ok ok ok nico

yes, i am a bad friend and bad blogger, so here's the post that saves me from being that bad person who only posts for flash fiction friday...
and truthfully, i meant to post earlier this week anyway, if for no reason other than to say grims finally posted again! he even posted a photo upon his return, and promises to write again tonight. i'm hoping this may become a regular thing for my own selfish reasons, but also in the small hope he may attempt a flash fiction friday or 3...
so here's my "in honour of nico" story (since he say i giving trouble and he lives in london, this is dedicated to him, and yes, it's all true): today i kinda met charles+camilla (british royals or whatever-they-are)- meaning that my shakespeare gig did a workshop for them and i shoulda met them, but hid instead because i hate that shit. the idea of shaking hands and smiling @ strangers i don't care about in the least, who also just shook hands with 300 other people and their germs between 7am and noon is not even slightly appealing to me.
besides which, the royals don't actually do shit- the positions are titular (heeheehehee) and financial, so basically, their rich asses are supported by the fact that their ancestors actually did the work of running a country, once upon a time, and so today they have to be rich, waste my time with protocol, visit the minions, shake hands and smile a lot, ride horses and play croquet and golf and shit, have their photos taken, and die publicly.
standing ovations are staged for their arrival/departure, in spite of their not actually delivering any performance beyond the handshake+smile-for-the-cameras, and as a performer, i find that offensive. i don't applaud people for being rich, or for shit their dead forbears did, and i don't shake hands and smile and have my picture taken with people who have nothing to do with my life.
i guess this is why i'd do better as a recluse and will never amount to anything, in spite of several trinis' desires and regularly lobbying me to become our first female prime minister (as if i could just wake up and decide to be it, and have it be). some think this "theatre thing" of mine will give way to a burning desire to do the right thing by my country, without realising that i already want to do the right thing by my country and always have, but just don't think i have enough hypocrite in me to play politics. i want nothing but the best for trinbago and i think i might have some decent ideas, but don't feel confident i could work the system. i think i'd cuss people and ride out in a rage way too early to get anything much done- you may have noticed, bureaucracy and protocol are pet peeves that really set me off.
case in point: i almost killed a woman @ the aussie embassy this week. the fucking shit they trying to hand me have me saying "fuck australia"- i seen enough pictures, so they can keep their so-called character judgements for themselves. how dare they, and who do they think they are anyway, considering that they're a country of exiled prisoners' children...
the only reasons i'm going to comply with their fucking non-specific bureaucratic bullshit requirements for the visa are that grims needs to see his sis (it's been 5-ish years) and we already paid way too much for the damn plane tickets. and believe me, if we hadn't paid that gross sum for those tickets, i'd be sending him alone and making a 3week trip to sweet trini instead- cheaper, and with less bullshit. i'm so over australia right now. and since, like i said, i've seen the photos, why the fuck should i deal with their ridiculous red tape?!
anyway, forget them.
me+grims have a quasi-weekend alone together, so i'm off. i should be back with flash fiction by the end of the weekend, and i'll be a better blogger from now on. i promise, nico.
walk good.