Beyond Axel Rose...

i saw the most amazing thing today. never seen anything like it. in feeble attempt to pretend i have a shadow of a social life, i went to watch a musician who found me on myspace music. i planned on getting early, of course i was late. i got to the subway just as the train was leaving and then i transferred onto the express train. ha, bad joke. there is a dude on the train with his face in the seat in front of him. not moving. and i guess since a few weeks ago some dude lay on the train for about 24 hours before folk figured out that he was dead, a passenger reported this guy to the conductor. so we were delayed while the conductor went to get a metal stick to bang right next to could-be-dead dude who turned out to be merely semi-comatose dude. so i was late, but that wasn't the amazing thing.

the show starts and i look up from my drink to watch the musicians and the man straight ahead is the base guitarist. sounding very good. looking, well, quite awful. but in all of this i was deeply inspired. i am thinking the man hears the music in his head, feels the rhythm and follows the beat and plays the bass guitar for all it's worth. but this same man moves to something else completely. dancing his heart away as he strummed away on his guitar. musically schizophrenic i tell you. i would be bopping away (and i believe i have rhythm) but as soon as i looked his way i would lose it. i never thought it possible - but there it was. how can a person have no rhythm and yet have it. and why was i inspired?

because it means that maybe i can have no drawing ability and yet have it. like this, i am thinking perhaps i can find that i may fail as an artist and yet succeed. possible? well heck, i saw a man bopping away to some techno beat in his head (looked like) yet playing stevie wonder's superstition, excellently. apparently, anything is possible.

"yes, even you can draw" here i come!! mom may just have to find something else to laugh at me about... watch this space!

A Toast

this morning as i was drafting this post, rebekit sent me an email about her posting today:
Dedicated to the happenings in life that make us smile. scary!

on my way to work this morning (late) i bumped into a neighbour at the front door. he held the door open and i smiled (thanks, nice to see you). he was off to a modelling gig and i was, well, late. i popped into the corner store to get seltzer water and he went across the street to get coffee and i smiled hello at the guy behind the counter. i grabbed the water and asked him how he is and he said, with a smile, better (cos last week he was bad - even though he was still smiling). i said well i hope you feel even better, have a great day.
as i was about to cross the street, a truck came round the corner and got the end of my goodbye smile. he smiled and waved and so i smiled back.
as i crossed the street, the guy driving the yellow school bus, he caught the end of my truck driver smile and smiled and said something. all i could hear was the melissa etheridge (i'm the only one) on my ipod. but i smiled back and mouthed hello. i am thinking about sophie and her inspirational smile post
i walked into the subway station and smiled and mouthed good morning at the lady in the booth. i walked down the platform, still with a ghost of a smile. a man looked up and nodded good morning. i smiled and nodded back as i walked past him. and suddenly a tap on my shoulder. i turned around and there was a woman. "excuse me, sorry to bother you but..."

now i am thinking, what what? all this bouncing about smiling at everyone and feeling fantastic - do i have a big-ass stain on the back of my skirt? is my shirt ripped? what what what??

she says - i just love your shoes.

well, whew. a woman close by, i think she can tell that i was expecting something else. she is giggling.

i say - oh, thank you. and smile.

then she asks - i have to ask; where did you get them.

i tell her and secretly hope that i will cuter in the shoes than she will, or at least just as cute. woman close by is really laughing now. i think she can read my mind.

shoe woman says - i saw you wearing those shoes the other day

i say - yeah, i guess i must wear the same shoes everyday (damn you imelda marcos) but they are really comfortable.

closeby woman sniggers. yeah, okay, so i wear the same pair of shoes more than once in a week. at least they are cute!

shoe woman continues - but i wasn't sure i could come over and ask. but today i just had to. thank you so much.

the train arrives. she thanks me again. i smile and wish her a great day and step onto the train.

woman on the train catches the end of that smile. smiles back and moves over so i can grab onto the pole.
so much nicer than the guy on monday with the gold-capped brown teeth who leered at me and said, "i'm watching you."

Just Another Bad Day...

maher arar. so there you are just hanging about at jfk airport. in transit. baggage already checked through all the way to canada - your home for the last 20 years. then as you are going through the tedium of check-in they ask you into a room. oh, it must be that random super check they do every once in a while. next thing you know you are in jail. in syria. being tortured. for a year. telling them everything and anything you want me to stay, just make it stop. i want to go home to my wife and two kids. and then, after that year, you drop me off in canada and, well, oops we made a mistake. wow, that's gotta suck.

It's The Red Edition, Silly!

i don't get it. but, apparently, it's art so i don't have to. apparently the photographer painted the model black and then adjusted the light so that the skin is actually the true colour of the model. silly me, here i was thinking that she looked as though she had been frolicking in a coal bin. it's the africa issue. next week, i hear, they are going to toss alec wek in a vat of flour for the european issue. i can't wait.

on a serious note, though i must say that the cover is really well done. at first glance i could have sworn that iwas my cousin mxoloqina from the african village. if they had not said so, i would NEVER have thought it was a kate moss in blackbody (which, since it is not blackface is in no way offensive).

carrying on, there was a great article in there full of fantastic statistics that compared the united kingdom to africa. and even though the united kingdom fits into less than two thirds of zimbabwe, it is not about space or numbers, it is about comparability. and, since the united kingdom is made up of england, ireland, scotland and wales, plus, plus, it is very comparable to the continent of africa which, we have already established is the most homogenous place on the planet.

so, it turns out that female literacy in the uk is 99.9% while that in africa is 53.2% (who cares that in nigeria it is about 91% and in sierra leone below 35%, it's all the same - it's a crisis everywhere!). oh, and then - shock, horror, dismay - only 13% of women in africa use contraceptives, compared to 84% in the uk. i almost missed the two little stars in the corner and the note that told me that this was actually not even the average of the continent of over 50 countries and 900 million inhabitants, but actually of ivory coast, population 19 million. but, we're smart people, we can extrapolate and expand and, you know, homogenise.

but look at me, i am missing the big picture. the independen africa issue is donating 50% of the proceeds from its sale to an aids charity. and i just know that people out there will see the cover of the waif-like brit blonde, covered in soot and think - africa, aids, orphans, widows and hopelessness. i know i did!

p.s. did you notice the bonus? a free poster of the 'africanised' kate moss!

At Least He Used Vaseline...

i'll tell you how it all began. it was a cool night, back in 1992. i was in someone's room (cos i didn't have my own television) and the arsenio hall show was on. and he introduced his special guest. i must have heard his name before, i don't know, apparently he was a little famous.

then he came out. in a suit. and shades (not sunglasses, baby, shades). and playing the saxophone. how did he know my achilles heel? how could i not fall in love? who knows what he played (i read later that it was heartbreak hotel -appropriate), all i know is that is when he took my heart. i am still waiting for him to give it back. bill clinton. i have loved him ever since.

oh yeah, sorry. politics. he was a politician (is that ever past tense) and a good one at that. to paraphrase a friend, at least when he screwed you up the ass, he used vaseline. all i know he was dead sexy - with his sax, his shades and smooth talk. and when i heard he was coming to zimbabwe, i had to tell my parents: if he is working the crowd, shaking hands and he says to me, 'round the corner, 10 minutes,' don't look for me because i WILL be round the corner in 5. hillary must have gotten wind of my intentions because all of a sudden she was the one who came to visit. but he feels my energy and he can't resist my pull. and i am patient. i have waited over 10 years and can wait longer. they moved to long island, then he got an office in harlem. i will wait. he'll be in brooklyn soon enough.

Meanwhile In Thailand...

so much for dreary talk that goes nowhere and is forgotten seconds after the traffic jams have gone. this week we had drama at the un! forget all the season premieres and new television shows, we had drama translated by a bland translator chick. i know i could never work as a translator at the un. i would be all - what? hugo, you did not just go there. woo!

"the devil was here"? and then you crossed yourself AND looked heavenward (we assume heaven is up). at that point i would have been pulling out my phone to frantically text a friend while still trying to translate the next bit. girl, you watching the live coverage of the un? you don't have that channel? no worries, i know it's gonna be on tv later, over and over and over again, like maybe every 15 minutes, cos you know that's how the news do. the president of venezuela just called george bush the devil. and he repeated himself, just in case you missed it. then he crossed himself (protection or in case he was blaspheming?) then he explained that he was talking about the president of the usa (in case you thought he meant ahmadinejad). apparently the podium still smelt of sulphur and, thus, he could not control himself. he had to speak.

well that chavez he has a problem cos he seems to think that george bush acts like he's the president of the world. pfft! where would he get that dumb idea from?

Shhh....

sudan has been weighing heavily on my mind for a while now. such a heavy weight on my mind. but i have decided to take the lead of, it seems, pretty much the rest of the world and say nothing, do nothing. i mean, if we wait long enough there will be no one left to help and then we can just carry on as we pretty much always have. and since we never got involved, we will bear no responsibility, right? hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil and soon there will... be no evil?

Don't Ever Wonder...

when i was a kid - after black became my favourite colour and before pink was the colour of my prison, i decided to make my mother a birthday gift. i did this partly because i made no money and thus had no money (no i just have no money), and partly because i had been told that making a gift showed i cared. now, what could i make now that i had just started learning how to sew but was still not allowed to use the sewing machine? i could not ask my mother to buy supplies because then the surprise would be blown. i had to use what was already there. fortunately, i found a rectangle of sturdy pink fabric and a ball of black yarn. i smuggled a darning needle into my room and set about creating my masterpiece.

on 12 september, i presented my mother with a pink pincushion, embroidered (that word is used very loosely) with her initials (P on one side and B on the other) in black and with a black embroidered border. "oh, this is beautiful, thank you!" is what she must have said, because that is the kind of thing she tends to say. but i have to tell you, the thing was hideous. as i have grown, i have looked at that thing and wondered what was going on in my head. and i have been able to wonder because my mother discarded her rather fancy store-bought pincushion and has used that pink and black monstrosity since. i have offered to replace it and she has always gracefully declined, informing me that it doesn't matter how i feel about it because it is not mine.

so, when we disagree or she straight up pisses me off and i wonder what kind of a mother she is and if she really loves me, i think upon that pincusion (now, i think, decades old) and realise that she, at the very least, can pretend very well.

Ahmadine..wha?

on saturday i was hanging out with my roommate's mom, who was in town for a meeting on migration at the united nations. since it had been all over the news, i asked her if she had seen ahmadinejad - the prime minster of iran. "oh! i was at the u.n. until 10pm yesterday. things got very exciting!"

the story begins with the iranian delegation presenting itself. this was apparently followed by the cuban delegation making a statement which turned into a criticism of the usa (big surprise) and a declaration that the usa has no right to accuse other nations of human rights abuses since they are abusers themselves. the cuban delegate referred to the travel ban that has been in effect for about 40 years.

of course the usa asked for the right to rebut cuba's statements. iran long forgotten, the usa delegate launched a verbal attack on cuba and so on until about 10pm.

and i'll tell you what i don't get. so we have the usa, champion of democrazy, land of the free, and home of the brave and yet they can decide whether or not we go to cuba. well okay, we can go but if we so much as, without government permission, spend a dollar or receive a gift, well, we just get fined. big brother, what? if cuba is such a terrible place, why not let us go and check it out and come back inspired to work towards the freedom of the cuban people (cigars in hand, naturally)? why not let us decide, on our own, not to travel to this awful tyrannical land. do you not trust the judgement of the american people - they voted for the current administration, didn't they?

It Can't Be Natural

how do people wake up feeling "refreshed"? it's a mystery to me. i wake up feeling totally groggy or less groggy. i am never cheerfully stretching my way into the day. and yet i am surrounded by these so-called morning people - my sister, my roommate, guests who swear up and down that they are not morning people (all a ruse to getinto my house, i tell you). and so invariably i find someone bouncing up and down on my bed, at some ungodly hour of the day, begging me to get up and do something. the only thing i really want to do then is strangle them but that would involve opening my eyes and that would mean i have conceded defeat. "go watch some tv or read a book," i mumble (i try to keep many distractions for the unnaturally chipper in the morning). "give me an hour, please." sister and roommate don't fall for this. they settle down and tickle my ear, stroke my arm, and "sweet-talking" me into madness. broken, i open my eyes and wonder what i did to deserve such suffering. then i wonder what the hell is wrong with these perky people. and these are the same people who will get into bed at 10pm and be asleep in two minutes. nothing will get them up (i have tried). they sleep so easily, they way too annoyingly. i'm just saying - HELP!

Maybe Next Time

i am thinking maybe they didn't think i was coming in today. i mean it was only the primaries. so no purple ink for my finger to celebrate this, my first time ever ever voting. the machines were so totally old school - levers and knobs and everything looked about 40 years old. it did absolutely nothing for my confidence that my voice will count. but i'm going back in november; i gotta give them one more chance to give me the ink.

Once They Learn English, That Is...

i know that many were saddened by the sudden passing of steve irwin - the crocodile hunter - and some have decided to do only what is right. these days, as we have seen, grief is best expressed as anger and anger is best expressed in the form of retaliation against anyone, usually the innocent and totally unaware. somehow this is supposed to punish the guilty. to hell with this propaganda about the nature of the stingray and how it probably felt threatened and only reacted as it is meant to. some steve irwin fans are avenging their hero's death and i tell you soon the world's sting rays will realise they decided to mess with the wrong man. so far it is 10 sting rays but those who love steve and love freedom will not stop until they can fly a mission accomplished banner from every australian beach. yes siree bob, until every last terrorist stingray has surrendered or lies dead and mutilated, they will not stop. and any so-called conservationists who condemn this killing only serve to validate the strategy of the terrorists. i am fully confident, in no time stingrays will be waving the white flag.

You Are EIther WIth Us Or...

today at night president bush addressed "the nation" on this 5th anniversary of the tragedy simply known as 9/11. i took that moment to wash my dishes. yesterday there were several specials about that day. i did homework and this morning the papers discussed who got the highest ratings - american football, apparently. and still it seems the best way for anyone to get ratings, sales or votes.

this morning i also had awful dreams involving planes being shot down by fighter jets and crashing into the ocean. and at work and talking to my neighbours (which i do on occasion) i got the sense that many were trying not to think about it yet couldn't forget. a metlife blimp floated by and a coworker commented on how inappropriate that seemed, on this day, in lower manhattan.

i thought about a story a friend shared with us about his ex-wife. she was lucky to escape the twin towers and took off, walking uptown. and walking. and walking. she kept telling herself - don't look back, don't look back - as though she was afraid she would turn into a pillar of salt if she did. when she was asked why she didn't look back she replied - i don't know. it just felt as though everything would be okay if i just didn't look back.

so today, as i was walking home from the subway station, i bumped into a neighbour who said, look at that, isn't that beautiful? i looked. two pillars of light, stretching into the night sky. and i thought, wow, a lot of people who had nothing to do with anything die needlessly.

when and how do grief and loss become so political?

You Can Ring My Bell

but the whole anonymous heavy breathing thing? that you have to quit. i don't get it. what is the whole deal with dialing someone's number to inhale and exhale for a good minute and then hang up without a hello, how are you doing? what? were you raised in cave? or that guy in the gym who is leering at you and taking obvious pleasure at your discomfort. but if i come over and kick you in the gonads then all of a sudden i am the one with the problem. i just wanted to get an idea of how it is to feel uncomfortable. if you feel that you love me or hate me, you just come over and let's talk it over. you may find out that i am a messed up bitch who is not worth your time and energy. alternatively, we may find out that we are meant to be together forever. either way, your gonads will still be intact.

What Are You Going To Do?

"want something interesting for your blog?"
so i am thinking her book is being published next week or she got a major scoop for her magazine. my roommate (the one who currently lives in nigeria and is chasing her dreams) had come online and sent me an instant message. of course i said, "yes please."
"i got jacked at gunpoint this evening"
"WHAT???"
and now i am feeling powerless. is this a conversation to be had online? really? but our fabulous global economy has us on opposite sides of the planet and talking to each other as though we are sitting next to each other. until it really matters. we are online now and there are time lags between the questions and answers and oen is always lagging.
me: oh man kai, are you okay
me:(again) what happened?
kai: shaken up a lot but okay
me: and your car?
me: (again) what did they take
me: (again!) what happened (yes, i do ask many many questions.
kai: mine and the one of staff's bag with everything in it
kai: and we those kinds of people who carry big bags with everything in it.

you get the drift. i am asking lots of questions and trying somehow to convey my panic and strength but yahoo's emoticons aren't quite cutting it. and she is about two or three questions behind, traumatised and exhausted and yet unable to sleep.

and this is what happened. kai was driving home. she usually drives alone but, luckily for her, one of her employees had asked for a ride home. so she is in her jalopy (a little red car with no air conditioning and a reserved spot in the repair shop) and she gets to an intersection. the windows are wound down (no aircon, remember)and a man with a gun runs up to them and demands their bags. and when he did all they were doing was "jsut begging for him not to shoot while we were reaching for our bags."

i am terribly relieved that she is alive to tell the tale but made as hell and feeling totally impotent. what can i do from brooklyn? she tells me that everything was in her bag so all her credit cards, keys, wallet, the works all gone. i tell her that she is a tough nut - cos i would probably be a shaking crying mess right now. she tells me "just had a terrible stomach ache while i was at the police station from the tension prolly".

i am glad she was not alone (though i am sure the employee was wishing she hadn't asked for a ride). but this guy picks a day when kai's cousin is out of town so she had no one to pick her up and take her home and make sure she was okay. just me, feeling all silly and kinda meaningless at my desk.

but folks, it gets better! they used her cellphone to call her cousin and demand a ransom for her cheque book and other contents of the bag! the nerve of it all. i mean, you ran up to my car, stuck a gun in my face and took my stuff. you are going to take all my cash, my cellphones and you have violated my space and sensibilities. and now you demand ransom? because the money you are making off me is not enough? and you know that i am feeling relieved to be alive because you know i have either heard the stories or know someone who has lost someone during one of these armed robberies gone bad.

and what makes me feel like a man in sore need of viagara (yeah, i'll even take the 4 hour erection) - they took her cellphones (all three of them) so i can't call her. so i have to sit on my hands and wonder how she is doing, if she got any sleep and if any of this has finally hit her. i am pissed off! and i shake my fist at those bastards! yeah, that'll really show them!

Pants On Fire!

oh coop, why do you play me like nintendo? last night you said see you tomorrow. but you knew you weren't coming? why did you have to lie? i mean, you are a reporter, i trust you! when you say see you tomorrow, i expect to see you. and then at 9:45 pm they said you were coming up. when did we find out that you were not coming? at 10:00 pm when larry king stated that john brown was sitting in for you. why, why, why? if i can't get the straight story from you about whether or not you are going to be there, then what am i to ever believe. it's the little things that matter, coop, didn't anyone tell you that?

Is Tension The Key?

yesterday i had the absolute best mani-pedicure EVER! i was hanging out in the country with rebekit and mom and we went to the salon for pampering. so i get the "special" pedicure which comes with a massaging chair. so the woman is kneading my calves while the chair is vibrating while kneading my back. and for all the shaking in the chair that i was doing, she still got the nail polish on alright. then i got the manicure AND a mini shoulder massage. bliss.

now, i have no issues or non-issues. nothing seems so bad right now. genocide? famine? pestilence? not a big deal. i'm chilled out man. no tension in my shoulders and i have to keep it that way.

only one thing bugs me today - but in a california, bummer kind of way. why are "as seen on tv" items NEVER as seen on tv? the plush robe was threadbare (from the start) and not even kneelength. the sweeper doesn't clean diddly. the face resurfacing system had my roommate bleeding. and yet i still itch to reach for the phone when she says "call in ten minutes and get the free mini popper free!"

Too Tired... Can't Compute...

after spending a very relaxing day and night with rebekit, i find myself completely exhausted with a totally fried brain. how does that work?

The Way Forward

i have realised something. people speak of africa as though it is a country, or perhaps even a village, do not speak that way out of ignorance or lack of respect for the many cultures and individual countries (i hear there are over 50 of them). it's not like any of it matters anyway, those borders were set up by a bunch of old men in berlin as they scrambled for the continent. no siree bob. they are being progressive. and i am now inspired to take it to the next level. no more countries. they only tear us apart. cultural identity is just an excuse to be a snob.

this is the age of globalisation. mcdonald's and coca cola pioneered the movement and soon there WILL be a starbucks on every corner. we love the marriott because no matter where you go, every one of their hotel rooms is somehow the same.

who cares if it happened in england, you're german and that's in europe, so you must know.

that is just the beginning of the revolution. and in time we won't even have time for continents. i tell you people, this is the way to achieve the true global village. today all africans are alike, tomorrow we are all africans!

We All Have Them

i have a guilty pleasure. perhaps with time we will find that i have more than one. but, right now i have a guilty pleasure - noah's arc. and no, i do not mean the ark and the animals by two by two. i mean noah and his hot friends on logo. i am talking about the gay drama series - a pioneer in its genre. i have to know all these things for when i try to justify why i watch this show over and over again.

but i just do it for the hotness. at times, the acting is atrocious. some of the storylines are totally unbelievable. but oh what a beautiful show. there are scenes where noah and his friends are in a nightclub, at a party or just at the museum and all one can see in the background is scantily clad men with near perfect physiques (i say near because no one is perfect, right?). and at the end of the show i am smiling and somehow more okay with the world.

i understand now why the rich go around collecting art and hanging it in their homes (sometimes hiding it all in a room underground). to just sit and gaze upon beauty - it is a a wonderful thing.

All Talk?

but today i will act. no longer shall munch's madonna sit in the shadows. if nowhere else, she shall be spotlighted here. scream schmeam!