nice work if you can get it

when i occasionally have time to read online and get engrossed in those really good, thoughtful, well-written+researched, informed+informative daily dose blogs i wonder what they do for a living that affords them the time.
i think there's a conspiracy: the man is paying writers to be fulltime online readers+bloggers to make us feel like our issues are being talked about and we in good company. not all of it, just the good, frequently attended ones.
and as i write this i realise this is my 2nd post today, and i've clearly been reading online.
but i've been working and actually got a bunch done too and may still have time to weed the front yard before meeting with the realtor this evening. after having the luxury of being able to shirtlessly enjoy a juicy grapefuit sprinkled with brown sugar for lunch and just wash the stickiness off before getting back to work.
sometimes it's good to be me.
mmm.
walk good.

ok, my fff was weak

so i feel like i can't let too much time pass with it being my last post, although i hope my argonaut booty helps balance it out...
the first time i saw the ad that says, "this is the face of erectile dysfunction" while showing a close-up of some dude's face, all i could think was how tragic it must be to be the face of erectile dysfunction, and whether he knew in advance and the $ was just that good, or if they didn't warn this dude they'd slate him like that and he was none the wiser until people started pointing and whispering (or laughing out loud) on the street. but the other day i saw a new ad warning people about online predators targeting the underaged. now i guess raising awareness is good, but they actually had a dude playing the child molestor, saying things along the lines of, "it's all about getting the pretty young things to meet me in person"...now we know there is indeed something worse than being "the face of erectile dysfunction"...

one of the actors in the children's hour with me is a very pretty chick named abby. i mention this because when we met she said we'd met before, when i let her use my bathroom- about 5years ago, a coupla weeks before i met grims, she+i were both in line to sign up for league auditions (especially if you're non-equity, this is like lining up outside the ins for a greencard, or outside the cinema for star wars/trek tickets- without the costumes- retardedly early, just to get a number to come back later for the thing itself). i was homeless for a month between vacating one apartment and waiting for somebody else to vacate my next, and was crashing by a friend whose house was right around the corner. because we get in line so fucking early for this, nothing else is open- not the theatre itself, or even sparky's espresso cafe- and this cute chick had to go, so of course, i volunteered to take those who had to pee back to the house to do so, if somebody would hold our place in line. i tell this story just because when she reminded me of it, my only thought was, "wow, evidence of me actually being a nice person, and evidence that that shit really works and people remember!"
i might be a little inspired to start being nice.
at least to attractive girls.

i'm rethinking my views on cosmetic surgery. this is still a half-formed thought, but, what else is a blog for, right?
i'm thinking that maybe cosmetic surgery is a sick+twisted version of survival of the fittest- stay with me- the basic principle is that the traits in an organism that best enhance the survival of the species usually ensure the survival of the members of said species that carry it, thus allowing them to reproduce and pass on those successful traits to their offspring (naturally, those with the less helpful traits don't get far enough to reproduce and pass them on, so the lame shit is gradually weeded out of the genepool and the good stuff becomes more ubiquitous within the species, and survival ensues, of both trait and species). this includes traits that make a member of the species more attractive to its opposite sex, making it easier for this more attractive organism to find a mate (or several) and reproduce as much as its loins allow, thus passing on this particularly attractive feature (example seen in birdsong- males with the best songs get the chicks, and their babies learn their father's songs).
so if this is the case, then it seems that the desire to do whatever it takes to make oneself more attractive to the opposite sex would have to be a part of that survival-of-the-fittest instinct. perhaps gone slightly awry, but survival of the fittest nonetheless. i mean, bigger boobs and dicks, smaller noses and wrinkles, more hair up there and less elsewhere- it's all about being more attractive, which, on an instinctual level, is about survival of our species.
but we have sex for pleasure, and we have birth control. so now i'm thinking, maybe what i should devote my life to (outside of art) is ensuring that the cosmetically enhanced are all sterilised (unless we want our species to end up made of nothing but silicone as the desire to add it gets passed down to future generations). but then the problem is: if i don't wanna be a hypocrite, does this line of thinking mean i have to get off the pill or get a boob job?
maybe it'd be best if we just didn't survive...
walk good.

fff's back, and so am i...

so i know that i've been gone longer than usual, but rehearsals, performances, dance class+workstudy, plus a minor personal project that took much longer than i expected, kept me pretty busy until today.
so i'm posting my fff entry, barely-within-deadline; but 1st...
me+grims finally ate @ zengo in chinatown last week, and it was sooo goood! it's mexican+japanese fusion, and we liked it a lot- food, decor and overall atmosphere (especially some of the waitstaff), plus, they serve real caipirinhas. we ate tapas style for the most part, and brought home leftovers that inspired grims to cook some real gourmet shit to go with it on another night. he did some fabulous fish and perfect sides and his food was as good as zengo's. so zengo was yummy at the time, and future dinner inspiration- a little pricey, but if you really check out the menu, you can do it affordably (especially if you get sushi) because we ordered more than we needed, assuming the appetizers wouldn't be filling, but found they were.
then friday night, i hit the argonaut with the dance crew, and was pleasantly surprised by my 1st visit to our neighbourhood bar (yay for stumbling distance)- not too loud, not too smoky, cool vibe, good drinks+staff (while squeezing by me trying to make myself small against the bar, one of the guys said i should definitely have an argonaut jersey since their tagline is "the best booty in town" and he agreed that i do indeed have it) and i am now the proud owner of an argonaut crew jersey, with the obligatory skull+crossbones pirate motif (which i love), that proclaims, appropriately, right above my ass, that i have the best booty in town. needless to say, i'm thrilled. plus, it's a good quality jersey and fits really well (yay for people who understand the marketing value of baby-tees).
on the negative, we tried to see black orpheus @ the silver spring afi, on the encouragement of bucky and jj, and now i have to hate yet another fucking establishment! the silver spring afi told me on the phone that there was lots of space and i should just pay @ the door, so we metro-d and trekked up there, panting slightly from the rush, and got through the door to find one of those velvet-rope-but-more-like-elastic-band-barriers that only allowed us to go one way, immediately entering a line. so we assumed it had to be the ticket line, because nothing else would be logical- right? especially considering that after forcing patrons coming in the main door to go only one way, the silver spring afi didn't see fit to have an employee @ said door to possibly answer questions about how/where to go for any other services, or any visible signage.
so after standing in line for a few minutes we realised it was the food line, not the ticket line, and were looking around for a ticket-sale point because there's no fucking signage in the lobby, and then some dude finally comes up and says that all those needing to buy tickets should go over there (he pointed, and opened the barrier at the back end of our line for people to get there) at which point, everybody in line behind us rushed over, and we got there last in line. by the time we got up to the counter-with-no-sign-to-say-ticket-sales-here, they had just sold the last 2 to the assholes who'd initially been behind us, and got into this line ahead of us.
i don't care what they're showing- the silver spring afi is shit, and that's why they don't even get a link.

alright. onwards+upwards: big up jj for setting up this flash fiction friday and sometimes keeping my brain from exploding.
i don't know about my fff; it was already monday morning when i had a moment to write, then i was interrupted and completely lost my thoughts and had to start over. i made myself finish because i needed to jumpstart my brain, but my apologies if you find this entry unworthy:

Before you assume that I must be... absolutely sure, to be making this commitment in the first place, let me assure you that i suffer no such delusions. you can never be 100% sure about anything, really. i just aim for anything over 50% because expecting greater certainty would be pointless folly.
but i’m pretty sure – whatever that means.
i think that this could be beneficial to myself and my life, and with the lack of any glaring evidence to the contrary, believe that i can take this monumental step forward.
it is true that i have a deep-seated fear of commitment, but i admit and consider it fully as i make this choice – i think this is important and valuable enough that even my fears are saying that perhaps they could be wrong, and maybe i do need this.
besides, even my parents are happy with the idea, and they’re probably my harshest critics – after all, they’ve been witness to all my other mistakes and know my weaknesses, my desire to always keep my options open, just in case i find something else i want to devote myself to...
so i think i’m ready now, to sign away my soul. i suppose i can always cancel the whole thing if i change my mind – i mean, i know how complicated and heartbreaking that can be, but the option exists, so i have a backup plan, which is all i need to allow me to finally say, yes, i want to do this.
so sign me up.
i’ll give up my alone time. getting my ass back into pole-dancing class’ll be worth it. it’ll be good for me.
i think.

walk good.

horse vomit

apparently, horses are physically incapable of vomiting because their breathing and digestive apparatus are somehow connected, or shared, or both, kinda like shared equipment preventing a man from ejaculating and peeing @ the same time.
when i made this comparison, the radio station intern asked if women could.
i had to stop and think because i've certainly never tried, but i believe that it is possible for a woman to orgasm and pee simultaneously.
am i wrong?
if so, tell me, because i don't wanna lead the poor intern astray- he already seems to be lacking in sexual experience and i wouldn't wanna feed him incorrect info about female anatomy...although, if i'm wrong and try to right it, that involves telling the intern i was wrong, which i also don't wanna do...
there are also (apparently) more horses than people in mongolia, so i may consider moving there, depending on how few people we talking about. and weather permitting, of course (which i suspect will be more of a problem than the horse:human ratio).
walk good.

jenga

how can something inevitable be a game?
and now, a post balancing as precariously as that doomed tower of blocks (it's been a busy week and a long weekend and i'm just trying to get it out before i lose it):

@ 1 of our recent shakespeare gigs @ a hebrew academy we noticed this orthodox-looking-dude standing in the back of the house, eyes closed, waving his hands around and apparently praying fervently through our show. it was very distracting and disrespectful.
we were all perplexed, until cam asked around later and was told that certain orthodox forms of judaism believe that performing arts are evil. so this dude really was praying for the casting out of our evil presence.
now i'm all for everybody believing whatever gets them through the shitstorm, but his behaviour was bullshit: it was not the forum for protesting the administration's educational choices, and he was disrespectful to a group of working professionals contracted by the same school that presumably pays him too, to work with and teach their students. the school's policies clearly didn't define us as an unwanted or dangerous influence, and whatever his personal beliefs, we were there for the benefit of the students and it was neither his place nor the place to make a big show of his disapproval.
i also thought he was doing the students a disservice by creating a mixed message about a positive, enjoyable and educational experience- what were they supposed to think of what we had to offer with his extensive praying to cease our evilness undermining the value of the work? and what were they supposed to think of their school for exposing them to something apparently so bad that it required constant prayer to get us all through it alive and undamned?

in unconnected news, somebody brought it up the other day and i realised my shortlists are about equally short for jewish men and musicals.
i'm a theatre person but not a muffin (musical theatre person) and generally don't enjoy musicals because they require too large a suspension of disbelief to digest people simultaneously breaking into synchronised song+dance in the middle of the street, and i'm not that willing. but there's a short list of musicals i do like: hedwig and the angry inch, into the woods, sweeney todd, urinetown, tommy, plus the music from the gospel according to fishman. chicago's concept with underpinnings of the cult of celebrity is great, and has a few good numbers in it, but i can't say i love the show.
when comparison with potentially sexy jewish men came up, the lists were about the same length: adrian brody, jon stewart, leonard nimoy (although spock is sexier, i don't think he's jewish), jeff goldblum (that's an unconfirmed assumption), jeremy piven (because he cracks my shit up more than because he's cute), and then i ran out. i mean, there are prob'ly more, but i don't pay attention to religious affiliation, so i didn't know who else qualifies.
thing is, i feel like there must be more potentially sexy jewish men than musicals. i mean, i hate musicals, and i love men. so who am i forgetting?

and i know this is old news, but i just found out about the x-men being ruled not human in spite of their story's anti-mutant-discrimination stance and the irony hurts me. the whole thing about fighting to have them called inhuman/monsters because "action figures" get taxed less than "dolls" is saddening. grims says that marvel's about business and the anti-mutant-discrimination bit is from the artists creating the x-men, not marvel itself, but i still feel like the company should represent their shit correct.
i suppose i'm asking too much for artistic integrity and continuity to take precedence over sales...

this lady @ the radio station just made me all paranoid about dry cleaning. she thinks that the chemicals used in dry cleaning (which, due to its being "dry", i can only assume leaves chemicals on the cleaned clothing) may contribute to development of breast cancer. now she's not saying she has proof, but the theory seems logical- she points out that in the 80's-90's a lot of women went back to the workplace in positions that require business apparel. there was also a rise in breast cancer cases.
when men dry clean their suits, their shirts are often still laundered, so the clothing with the dry cleaning chemicals on it doesn't rub directly on the skin. however, women wearing silk or other non-washable tops under their jackets have just a flimsy bra, or no barrier at all between the chemicalised top and their skin. then sweat mingles with the dry cleaning chemicals, and who knows what that could lead to...
and i had to admit i could see the logic.
now i'm all relieved that i dry clean less than 5 items in my entire wardrobe (another shortlist) and wondering when they'll stop wasting money on studies that tell us shit we already know, like 'marijuana users report better moods and less depressive symptoms than non-users' and find out if i need to start wearing a bra again, at least under my dry-clean-only silk tops...

right.
i should try and sleep before the sun rises...
walk good.

listen!

visited spinning girl briefly and she had this, which i had to share, and simultaneously ensure personal link preservation...listen and enjoy.
walk good.

slippin

it starting to show because i'm worn away @ the edges. i feel the protective layer peeling back to expose my...disgust? scorn? overall fedupness.
it's this america thing.
i never counted on being here so long and i'm just not maintaining.
i'm losing my patience with the politically correct, self-apologetic, passive aggressive, overly nasal bullshit reverberating in my ears and cranium. i'm tired of standing in lines with people who think it matters if you wear white before labour day or after memorial day or whatever the fuck that's about, and believe in wearing certain colours in certain seasons rather than wearing whatever's clean that you feel prepared in. i'm sick of trying to avoid the stereotype just to counteract how often it's true. appalled @ the weather. ready to collect up the relatively few people i like and get the fuck out. this is why i don't like a lot of people- it keeps your family all on 1 travel-safe vessel.
i'm getting snappy with people i usually call friends but not because i don't like them anymore or never considered them friends. i'm just impatient with their americanness. i want to break them and put them back together with the same personalities, but a more comprehensive view of the world, a refreshed frame of reference, and better voices/accents (when i went to au i dreaded riding the shuttle because i felt like the sorostitute squeal was piercing a hole in my skull big enough that the tertiary education we were supposedly acquiring together would be moot. i hated every one of them). and being here in the 1st place doesn't put me in a very forgiving mental state to start with. every time i leave the house i'm unreasonably grumpy because i'll have to deal with people. even when i go to meet friends, i'm grumpy when i first arrive and it has to wear off as they remind me why i liked them enough to come out. the thing is, it's not about them. i know i always eventually enjoy these friends, which is why i go, but stepping out of my front door into america fucks up my mood. sometimes i don't answer the phone so i don't have to hear an american voice. but it's not that i don't want to talk to that individual caller, i just need a moment to ready myself for the conversation so i have to check voicemail and call back.
my snappiness is bad because sometimes i don't mean to be mean, i'm just in a bad mood because i'm in america. people ask me if i'm ok and i say yes and they doubt me because i seem irritable, but the truth is that i am ok except for the annoyingly concerned voice irritating me. and it's not the concerned party's fault.
but i think what bothers me most is what it does to me directly. after 8years and several directors schooling my intonation for american stage i hate the way i sound, harsher and less lyrical tones putting "r"s on the end of "her" and saying "stoopid". ugh. although, the latter i said only for the specific production in which i was required to call somebody "stoopid" twice. rehearsals and run only.
i don't hate americans. i just hate the symptoms of living in america.
i will try to stop harping on how much i need out.
walk good.

new fff

i'm so happy every time i complete a flash fiction friday entry. i can only hope anybody reading enjoys it as much as i do the writing...
big up jj for continuing to make it possible. here's my latest attempt:

The sound it made when it broke... was so loud i swore it echoed through the whole house. i froze for a second, trying frantically to think of how i’d explain if my parents came running in to see if i was ok. a moment later, relieved @ the conspicuously absent sound of grownup feet rushing to inquire about my illicit activity, i sprung into action, promising god – and now that i’m thinking about it, i’m not even sure if i still believed in god by then, or if it was just instinct and the need for forgiveness from anybody – that for this reprieve, i’d never do something so stupid and risky again.
i never undressed so fast, before or since…
but that was the first time.
i knew i had to do it, but that first scare made me paranoid.
i waited until i saved enough $ to buy my own.
buying my own – another big first – i walked into the underwear section in target, trying to act like i was much older and shopping for a girlfriend. it took me a long time to work up the courage to hit frederick’s of hollywood. guilt is powerful.
check-out @ target with my booty was an exercise in fakery to cover embarrassment – much needed – but then i could lock myself in my room with my full-length mirror and my own stuff that almost fit right. thankfully, i was given the off-the-rack gift at birth – no way was i actually trying lingerie on in a department store – then, anyway – not that i’d really call what i picked up that day “lingerie”…but then, then it was the most thrilling thing i'd ever done.
after awhile i got bold enough to add makeup – i knew i had an eye for colour going in, at least. i’d remade my mother a million times in my mind. i think she inspired me to do better. insipid cow.
anyway, college was when i found out how big my world could be. fell in with the right people and never looked back. when i graduated and went home to get all my stuff and run off to be fabulous in new york, i packed it all, except for the first bra and panties i’d bought @ target – i laid those out on my bed, got dressed in my pink+black candy-striped strapless minidress with pink-toed black stilettos and full hair and makeup, picked up my matching valises, and walked downstairs like the modern-day scarlett o’hara i’d become, and said,
“mother – remember when i was in high school, that year-and-a-half you spent wondering how come you couldn’t remember doing it, but when you tried to put on your red pumps for your women’s club awards, the left heel was broken? well, i wanted to tell you, i’m sorry. i know they were your power-heels, and i didn’t mean to ruin them.”
i set down my luggage, slid my black beaded clutch from my armpit, reached in for the $500 pulled from my scarlett account the night before and put it in her hand, limp and clammy with shock @ the magnitude of what she didn't know.
“you should replace them with prada.”
and then i left.
it pays so well to be me, i can remember it any way i want.

walk good.

they say you can never go back. they're wrong.

in my heart i've lived in 2 places simultaneously for too long: in trinidad+tobago and with grims.
originally i just resided in d.c. for university and still lived in trinbago (flew back @ least 4 times a year, never called d.c. home) but these days my loyalties are divided.
residing in d.c. is still secondary- the point is that i not living full-time in trini because i live with grims- but although i love what we've done with our house and would stay in it if it were moved to trini, it's only home inasfar as me+grims define and share the space within these walls+roof- this isn't the full package: location-wise, we could be anywhere; it's either living in trini or it's not.
and truth be told, i currently spend more time in d.c. than trini (the only thing i miss about university is cheap flights) but as far as i'm concerned only trinbago and grims are home (and the only thing i regret about marriage is that it's so much more expensive for 2 to travel but now it's not as much fun without grims).
me+grims love to travel, but when i don't live in trini fulltime the only place i crave is home, so setting up homebase in trinbago sets me up to travel the world again instead of just wanting to rush back home every time i can afford to fly- maybe even temporarily reside somewhere new, whatever, once my house and husband are all based in trinbago instead of dividing my homes with d.c. residence and obligations. i need to simplify my life such that my only obligations are in trini, and when i'm elsewhere, it's travelling and experiencing.
my 2 homes (heart+soil) will be united within the next 2years (and if not, grims will be single again when i ride out because i not staying for more than 1 more winter). i can't wait to set up our home in trinbago, although i fully intend for us to take advantage of my parents while we get our place organised...
problem is, sweet trini's urban folk tales is ready to move right now and is getting impatient. there are things happening @ home that i feel unprepared to discuss because i'm not there enough for truly informed opinions, and nothing happening in the usa moves me to write about it the way i long to write about home. my world is going on without me and i have to keep trying to catch up.
yes, some of my fiction is set in trinbago, but i need to be immersed in the reality of life there again, whether i'm working in fact or fiction. i feel not myself when i can't spend as much time as i need there to regenerate, which i haven't in too long. i feel not myself when the shit weather that passes for seasons here deprives me of the sunlight+heat that we living creatures need. i feel not myself when i spend too long surrounded by people who don't sound like me or share my frame of reference, requiring me to adjust even while i resist assimilation.
they say you can never go back, but 1winter and 2years from now, they will be wrong.
walk good.

a few items i been meaning to mention...(post-posting edit, 7.51pm)

1. jamaica has a female prime minister.

2. 2 americans were granted patent #6,212,772 on april 10, 2001, for the "process for the formation of a caribbean steel pan using a hydroforming press and the resulting pans".

3. trinidad+tobago played the most matches toward qualifying for the world cup finals.

4. fundamental question for the actor: what is the reality and how can i make it real to me?

5. the biggest part of white privilege is not having to be aware that it exists.

6. i'm a conservationist even in the letter-to-letter parts of my editing process.

7. you know tv's bad when you see an ad for a show that you assume must be a parody, then realise is taking itself seriously.

8. i've always assumed that my chewing's not as loud outside as it is inside my head. it only just occurred to me to check.

9. the asshole guest on the daily show who blithely assumes that the world must be cool with usa's tactics because countries aren't "ganging up" on them prob'ly thinks venezuela's threat to limit usa carrier flights based on "principles of equality, reciprocity and fair opportunities" proves his point, because his asshole tendencies don't allow him to see that many countries don't have the resources to counteract the kind of political blackmail that started the problem in the first place.

10. i turn up volumes in multiples of 9, because it's the magic number.

walk good.
edit: forgot to mention when i 1st wrote this that we saw dave chappelle last night as part of our anniversary celebration. he was great, but the audience shoulda shut the fuck up and let the comedian make the jokes. audience members were so obnoxious that i actually found myself wishing i knew dave so i could call him and tell him send me an advance copy of the dvd instead, so that i didn't have to suffer the fools around me to see his set. i guess it was a defining moment for me in my lifetime of people-hating. i considered skipping a live show just to avoid people...

flash fiction friday, plus festivities

although this fff doesn't reflect it at all, these are international celebration days for me: yesterday (april 2) was zed's+fred's b'days, in london+trinbago, respectively; today (april 3) is me+grims' anniversary (d.c.) and big-up chrissy day (germany); and tomorrow (april 4) is the skinnywhiteboy's b'day.
plus, i must big up jj for running flash fiction friday in the first place, even when he can't participate.
and this week, we have:

Disease? I suppose you could call it that…you could even work in “scourge” or “pestilence” for a good religious guilt. you know it never hurt to pull out some godspeak. once you don’t take it too far, most allow for personal belief, and the freaks will still swear up+down it was straight out the book. don’t smite nothing, but allude, man. allude to some shit.
but don’t pass judgement on nothing else. don’t cut off anybody who might be thinking how well-rounded you are, or noticing you mention their issues. they wanna like you – i mean, look what the alternative is…they'd be overrun...
just don’t push buttons and you safe.
arrright. and remember what i said about the agenda. work your way up slow. don’t skip anything on the list. we built it to smooth them through the inevitable answer, from don’t know if it’s too extreme, to full support, all in this one speech, so don’t fuck with it. we know what we about here, so don’t overthink it, just say what we told you.
and while you work through the talking points, remember the underlying message: they are bad people, such bad people that they don’t even really count as people – you know, the more i think about it, the more i like “disease”. you can definitely use it. put them on the same level as – no, not cancer – hiv – they’re contagious, and that’s why we have to eliminate the problem completely…
you see where i’m coming from? arrright.
forget the protesters. what they gonna do? throw their signs at you? they can’t affect you.
besides, our people should get them riled up enough to provoke some violence, so we’ll be jailing them with just cause by the end of today anyway. they’ll look worse and worse once we start running footage of them attacking police officers…you don’t need to worry about them. i told you we take care of everything. all you need to do is step out there when they call your name, come off mostly harmless, and say what we told you…
arrright, i think they’re announcing you now. you ready?
don’t forget, they are not human beings, they are a disease…

walk good.

and now it's back!

i am confused. and i wonder if this only happened to me. did anybody else temporarily lose kingdom of loathing?
just because i paranoid don't mean they not out to get me...
walk good.

what the?!

i just tried to play kingdom of loathing, and instead of being able to log-in, found myself @ their url, featuring a message from "site-pimp", who's apparently bought the domain?! who the fuck does he think he is?!
i'd been having a nice evening, too. fack!
anybody know what the ass is going on?
walk good.