“doin’ it for the fame….” – lady gaga (love, love, LOVE that song)
When I grow up, I want to be a Patron. I want to be the guy who makes dreams happen. An’ ting. Missionaries need money; artists need funding; people need a universal blood donor…. I need to be a Patron.
Of course, as I think on this, I ask myself (again) what are my motives? Is it to really help people or am I looking for thefame, (fame) doing it for the fame (fame).
Last yr I decided that I TOO wanted my medal. I wanted cameras to see me kissing babies and offering support to the masses. I want… my medal. you see, I believe in the Biblical concept of never letting your left hand know what your right hand is doing (or is it the other around? No I’m right) which basically means – try yuh bess and doh let know body know dat yuh do somet’ing fuh somebody. So, for many, many years, whenever I did anything for anyone (and I’ve done some things. things that have at times left me broke for example), I did it discreetly. And I di…
quite randomly (i think like a month/month and a half ago) i wrote this - if for no other reason than because i could... and since blogger or the internet connection here sucks right now, here (now) is that thought. pax.
she wears protection/in/colours and styles that you would understand/if you would just stand next to her/and shut up/keep your mouths closed/keep your mouths closed.../and your nose open/understand?/cause she bathe you know?/she real bathe/cleansed herself of it/and anointed her own skin/with sweet scents/a lotion that sinks deep into your pores/though she slathered it on top of hers.../and she do her hair you know?/it rests on her face not to hide tears/but to tickle her cheek bones/this hair of hers that just smells so good!
GOOD! enough of that!
but she smoking though/and is your lungs that getting the smoke... and is your lungs filling up with the air/and is your eyes that getting foggy/when Converse start walking/and Cream start rising/and you know what?/i going and s…
this morning i was thinking about fairy tales.jack and the beanstalk in particular. and the one thing that hits me is... beware of people with no vision. perhaps faith or hope too. jack's mother, concerned with their present situation throws the beans out of the window and punishes him for being gullible. when in reality, jack was a visionary. he believed that these beans IN HIS HANDS (what do you have in your hand?) held magical properties. he saw in his mind's eye the potential for greatness. i imagine, it wasn't until the gold started coming did his mother (his family) believe. and maybe jack was naive but sometimes holding all the answers is the key to our downfall (i can't believe i just said that). a little open-minded-ness please with a shot of faith...
First: Wake up this morning/get ready for work/that bra/for that shirt Burn as the soap corrodes in your eye... ASK YOURSELF HOW LONG MUST YOU HAVE TO CRY!!!!!
Chorus: and dance, dance puny mortals dance dance puny mortals throw your hands in the air pretend you don't care and smile for the camera cause your pants are on fire so you got to dance forever (and ever) dance, dance puny mortals dance, dance puny mortals
Second: Fairy tale endings/they swim in my coffee/Somebody spilled it/and now it's upon me How could we stand here and believe in a lie... IF IT'S GOOD FOR YOU THEN MAYBE IT'S BETTER FOR I!!!!!!!!
Chorus: so we dance, dance puny mortals dance dance puny mortals throw your hands in the air pretend you don't care smile for the camera cause your pants are on fire you got to dance forever (and ever) dance, dance puny mortals dance, dance puny mortals
(i'm sitting in the office writing something for... well the office and this happens. so let's discuss.) (i'm sorry: for those of you who aren't aware, Pennywise Ltd - Cosmetics Ltd i think, is like this chain of stores/superstores that sell from cosmetics to blank dvds...)
(daddy, where do thoughts come from?go ask your mother.)
1. Trapped between the stoic and the sublime, I laugh. I laugh at their thoughts. “Push. Push. Push.” “Breathe.” One has lived many years, one has yet to live. One is pure, one is sure. One a perfumed goddess, one a resigned god. But this one thread keeps them common… They are tired and are eager to reach their destination….
2. Behind the spectacles are eyes that saw the world being formed and sometimes wonder where creation went wrong….
3. Smooth skin, soft hair….The hard head child sleeps But her mind ponders Ponders, ponders and wonders – “how many decisions will I have to say no to?”
4. She pulled up her Christmas stockings. Right up to Christmas Eve. And if Santa ever decided to come down He’d find more Than a silly platter of milk and cookies.
A young human asked me – is the chameleon mischievous? I thought about it… and thought about it some more. Not being a scientist I decided to act like a philosopher. ACT being the imperative. I postulated (and promulgated) that yes, the chameleon WAS in fact mischievous. In order to achieve its goals, it employs cunning… stealth. It masks its true form to catch prey (and hide from predators of course but still…).
It is a tricky little thing. Playing mind games with its surroundings. Is it a branch or something more? Who knows. Certainly not its prey. The chameleon is mischievous.
Then I thought, the chameleon is NOT mischievous. It is merely following its nature. This is how it was wired. It was designed [designed] to be stealthy and mix with the environment under a guise. To be mischievous, to be excited, to be happy even is a behavioral stance guided by (for the most part) choice.
The child CHOOSES to be mischievous because he believes it will bring a desired effect. He reasons, …
(my friend Richard Rawlinsis working on a new project called AHSKWEDPERSPECTIVEZ. quite randomly i wrote this. well... NOT quite randomly but... ah phooey! read the ting)
every thing must fit tightly into a box. conform. become one of the loveable, faceless drones that lock their knees to their chest in fetal just to show that "YES I CAN... FIT INTO THE BOX.' A pressed smile stamped on their faces suggest their acceptance albeit one under duress (due rest not allowed here).
a woman walks into a full maxi. there is one seat left. unwilling to conform, she steps out of the box, unfolds her legs and says 'no'. she walks out. the people (loveable... faceless) grumble. they squirm uncomfortably in their seats. by her single action she has upset the box-cart of the soon-to-be-travelling herd who wonders, "oh gosh woman jus' take the seat an leh we go nah!". instead she returns to the stand till a change arrives that she could believe in.
90's boy love - Joey n Chandler.... a moment of randomness between Catharsis videos
There are boys I love. And they love me. And we’re open about it. Just last Saturday I got a text message from one of those boys who said “I love you too man” in response to something I said. My boys are artists, artistes, atheists, and agirl (who is in fact one of the boys so hence the addition to the category) fathers, brothers and high school musicals (Jed and Umar will get that one – lol). We share ideas, music, random nothingness and Brent Worthington . We approve, reprove and listen to each other. I think the girl that I end up with must in fact be like the boys I love. Good looks aside… please… have some substance. One of my boys is appalled that I watched Gossip Girl (if you’re going to bash it… know what it is first) and has for this [and other minor reasons] jokingly labeled me a homosexual. But he who looks like Miley Cyrus with rainbow bandanas should not talk [chuckles]. I love my boys…
last week, i had the pleasure of performing a bit of s-s-s-spoken word for PowerGen's Emancipation Celebrations. it was to say the least fun. but let me break it down a bit further.
a friend of a friend who works there needed a spoken word piece done for the company's Emancipation celebrations. they didn't need/want anything too militant and obviously something without the profanity that is usually attributed to spoken word. sidebar:i don't know how it started or why it started, but apparently people [poets/spoken word artistes] think it's necessary to have 12 expletives to every one sentence. have we become so...defunct in imagination that we have to cuss way the piece or rather, cuss way the audience so as for them to feel the intensity of our words? my grandmother... was an aristocratic kind of hooligan. when she was through telling you what she thought of you, you will gladly pray for the mountains to cover you. and she never used common expletives. because lang…
last year, i had this thought. i always get thoughts. thoughts that tell me do things. now whether it makes sense to do/continue those things is usually up to the fear in me. but i am slowly shaking off the dust and washing myself clean of it. one of those things was The Catharsis Experiment. i started the Experiment on Faceboys for two reasons: 1. Because EAP is not for me... and 2. People need to know that they can truly be honest without fear of reprisal. or maybe fear OR reprisal. speaking of fear, Mr. Christopher Cozier has this amazingly cool book on the Draconian Switch site called "FEAR" - download it HERE
my friend Rodell Warnerdid this wicked logo for me and here is the intro done with exit shots that he took, Photo Booth frames, Final Cut Pro and Thievery Corporation's "Indra" [got to love them]. i have 84 members - could be more if i update the project more often because i keep getting this messages from people saying thank u and looking-forward-to-mor…