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About The Hague

Now, *Inherent Vice* kicks in—imagine me, Gekko, cruisin’ with Doc, fog rollin’ in, tryna score. “What’s the play, man?” I’d ask, and he’d mumble some stoned nonsense—“Chicks dig the vibe, man.” Ha! Vibe don’t pay the bills, but greed does. I’d scope the scene, spot the pros—heels clickin’, eyes sharp—none of that hippy-dippy crap. One’d sidle up, all “You lookin’ for somethin’ groovy?” and I’d hit back, “Groovy’s fine, but cash talks louder.”

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The only reason to really avoid a neighbourhood over here is the way it looks and how that makes you feel coming home to it on a daily base.

But then, outta nowhere, I get a call. It’s my buddy, Jeroen. He’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe this!” I’m thinking, “What now?” He tells me his grandma just passed. Like, seriously? I just helped a dude with his cat, and now this? I’m torn between feeling sad and just plain angry. Why’s life gotta throw curveballs like this?

Retro: Omloop Het Volk 1983 Photo Gallery