Today is Sunday and the weather is absofuckinglutely fabulous! Yet I am indoors, listening to music and reading the paper. But I've got all the windows open so it's not all bad.
Unlike most Brits, I don't jizz myself at the sight of sunshine. I mean, I grew up in the bloody Caribbean. So I actually dodge the sun as much as the Brits embrace it. It doesn't help that I'm married to a complete sun whore, who, once we're in Trinidad, would happily spend eight hours on the beach...every single day! My response when people see the sun and get all excited is "No, it's ok thanks. I saw the sun once."
Anyway, I'm here today, iPod in the docking station/ speaker, soca blasting, sipping on various alcholic tipples and feeling particularly homesick. Mr Bunny is still in Libya, all my friends had previous commitments with other halves and what not this weekend, so I'm on my own, and it feels a bit rubbish. I've put on on my favourite playlist, which is of course packed with soca. And with the sunshine and me wearing not very much (but still enough to be seen in public in and not make anyone sick), I'm still feeling a bit down.
I get this way from time to time, not knowing where I belong, not having any 'roots' anywhere. I mean, I'm West Indian (which is what I tell people where they ask where I'm from. I sense disappointment when the answer isn't Nigeria or Ghana) and of course narrowed down to Trinidadian. But I've lived here for so long now and all but two of my friends are British. One of those friends has lived here since she was 11, so I don't always consider her West Indian (she's Jamaican), but she'd scratch my eyes out if she knew I'd said that.
A while ago, I had a slight panic attack when I realised that my future child/ children would not be fully Trini. It actually freaked me out. I mean, I knew they'd be mixed race, but it hadn't properly occurred to me that they wouldn't actually be 100% Trinidadian. My husband is half-Irish and half-Polish, and unless I have them in Ireland (the thought has crossed my mind), they'll be British. So it's fair to say that my kids will have a very diverse heritage. It worried me a bit. Are they going to feel at home anywhere? I mean, I know where I'm from, but will they feel the same way? I mean, what if they don't love soca or Carnival or pelau and macaroni pie and callalloo? What if they don't get how hilarious a meggie is and salivate at the mere mention of the word 'doubles'? And here comes the panic attack again!
One of my favourite songs is by a duo called Zero 7. It's called Home, and it is one of the most melodically pure and sweet songs I have ever heard in my life. And the chorus goes "Take me somewhere we can be alone. Make me somewhere I can call a home." And I guess in my semi-pissed, mega-maudlin state, it's resonating more than ever.
What's the solution? Well, right now, it would be to crack open that bottle of Cosmopolitan mix and get glugging. I mean, it's not as if I have to work tomorrow... ;)
Sunday, 23 May 2010
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
Well sober me up!
I was watching 'Grand Designs' last night. It's this show where people build their dream homes while a smug presenter makes snide remarks and hopes it all goes tits up. So, this couple in London were gutting their Victorian terrace and completely remodeling it. They were doing the inside, but couldn't touch the exterior because of planning permission laws that say the exterior of these properties have to maintain their traditional look. They'd put in this metallic guttering so Mr Smug was like "Are there going to be problems with this, seeing as this is a conservation area? Is it going to have to be painted black?" and the equally smug homeowner replied "Well I don't think so. Our previous guttering was painted black only because our door was."
I then realised that if I lived on that street, and these tits were putting in silver guttering, I'd be straight on the phone to the local council to complain. And I guess that makes me a bit of a tit as well. Who knew I was so cantankerous? Am I acting out my old-age before I even hit thirty?
Twas a sobering thought indeed!
I then realised that if I lived on that street, and these tits were putting in silver guttering, I'd be straight on the phone to the local council to complain. And I guess that makes me a bit of a tit as well. Who knew I was so cantankerous? Am I acting out my old-age before I even hit thirty?
Twas a sobering thought indeed!
Thursday, 15 April 2010
Today
I'm sitting here, in the midst of the most awesome green tea high and pondering certain things. I am mostly in a pensive mood because I have a lot of work to do, and according to the law, I must become distracted as soon as possible for as long as possible, until I lose the will to live.
I know I've been gone for a very long time. Well, first off, I spent five weeks in Trinidad, chilling out. I was meant to stay for only three weeks, but realised that I had nothing waiting for me here so I stayed. Good thing I did, because my evil granny popped her clogs. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but she was very difficult, to put it kindly. The odd thing is, I had a dream about her last night and I actually had a very good conversation with her. But she's at peace now, and my dad has one less thing to worry about, so it's all good.
So I came back, the husband came back, we spent two weeks together then he left. We went to view a house that we were both quite excited about. It turned out to be a massive disappointment. It was a gorgeous four-bedroom detached and it looked so good on the internet- ensuite, conservatory, garden, double garage. But the bedrooms were surprisingly small and the lounge was just awful! So it looks like it's a pass. Ah well...
What else has there been? Well my laptop seems to have retired from its earthly toil. Ok, it isn't really mine. It belongs to Mr Mjsbunny, but I had commandeered it. And it took its last breath yesterday. So I'm bashing this out on his other shitty laptop, which crashes all the time and is insanely slow. Much patience required, but little at my disposal.
I did have the misfortune to have to go into town on Tuesday though. I had to go to the Post Office to post off a package. I'd ordered some tights from Topshop, and they bloody laddered on the first day I wore them, so I was returning them. Let me just say that there cannot be many more depressing places on this earth, than Crewe town centre. I believe the bus station and the post office are the places where chavs are born and return to die. There are enough muffin tops, Croydon facelifts and tracksuits to last a lifetime. I actually feel a little part of me die whenever I have to go to the Post Office or pass through the bus station. Sigh! And to top it all off, the weather has been unseasonably warm, so there is now an abundance of flabby, white arms, legs shoulders and backs at every turn. These people haven't seen proper sun since their last trip to Tenerife in June of 2008 and the fake tan is always poorly applied and shit. So in between all the orange dimples, are stretches of pure whiteness. It scares me a little bit.
Then I had to go out to Hanley to pick up the dying laptop. I like the drive out to Hanley. And with the weather being nice, I was able to have the windows down and enjoy some 3Suns, Machel and Blaxx. But then that SWV song came on- the one remixed with Human Nature, and I actually burst into tears. It was so bad, I had to change the song. Sigh! Oh Mike!
I haven't left the tiny flat since Tuesday. It feels safe and secure. Plus I've been distracted by my new phone. Yes, I caved. I've jumped on the Blackberry bandwagon. I know I'm late to the party but it was there, so I took it. I mean, I'm paying Orange £30 a month, even more over the past couple months because I was roaming. My contract was due for renewal and I was eligible for a Blackberry, so of course I went for the newest one. It's been a bumpy ride thus far. I don't like change. I mean, I had a Samsung Tocco, which is a touch screen. I also have an iPod touch which I can get wi-fi on. So I've grown used to my touch screens. My fingers now feel uber-fat and it's taking me ages to tap out a simple text. It also takes great strength of will to ignore that little flashing red light. I don't want to turn into one of those people who sees the light flashing, and the rest of the world ceases to exist. They are the Pavolv's dogs of the 21st Century! But it is excellent being able to chat to my mates, especially my two best friends. I've known them since primary school and they live in the States and Canada. So chatting to them for free does kind of makeup for my terror.
So that's where I am today. Judge Judy is on, and I'm drinking my seventh or eighth mug of tea. I'm currently doing a taste test on different brands of green tea with Lemon. These are things that I do to fill my time. I am also excited because Waitrose will begin to restock my favourite apples in one week. So I have that to look forward to. Tis a simple life I lead.
The weather is nice, I have some nice soca on my iPod and school will be re-opening soon so I can go to the shops during the day without having to deal with shrieking teens. Plus Mr Bunny is back in four weeks and hopefully we'll be in a new place by July. So life could be better, but it could also be a lot worse. Here's to optimisim and contentment. Today.
I know I've been gone for a very long time. Well, first off, I spent five weeks in Trinidad, chilling out. I was meant to stay for only three weeks, but realised that I had nothing waiting for me here so I stayed. Good thing I did, because my evil granny popped her clogs. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but she was very difficult, to put it kindly. The odd thing is, I had a dream about her last night and I actually had a very good conversation with her. But she's at peace now, and my dad has one less thing to worry about, so it's all good.
So I came back, the husband came back, we spent two weeks together then he left. We went to view a house that we were both quite excited about. It turned out to be a massive disappointment. It was a gorgeous four-bedroom detached and it looked so good on the internet- ensuite, conservatory, garden, double garage. But the bedrooms were surprisingly small and the lounge was just awful! So it looks like it's a pass. Ah well...
What else has there been? Well my laptop seems to have retired from its earthly toil. Ok, it isn't really mine. It belongs to Mr Mjsbunny, but I had commandeered it. And it took its last breath yesterday. So I'm bashing this out on his other shitty laptop, which crashes all the time and is insanely slow. Much patience required, but little at my disposal.
I did have the misfortune to have to go into town on Tuesday though. I had to go to the Post Office to post off a package. I'd ordered some tights from Topshop, and they bloody laddered on the first day I wore them, so I was returning them. Let me just say that there cannot be many more depressing places on this earth, than Crewe town centre. I believe the bus station and the post office are the places where chavs are born and return to die. There are enough muffin tops, Croydon facelifts and tracksuits to last a lifetime. I actually feel a little part of me die whenever I have to go to the Post Office or pass through the bus station. Sigh! And to top it all off, the weather has been unseasonably warm, so there is now an abundance of flabby, white arms, legs shoulders and backs at every turn. These people haven't seen proper sun since their last trip to Tenerife in June of 2008 and the fake tan is always poorly applied and shit. So in between all the orange dimples, are stretches of pure whiteness. It scares me a little bit.
Then I had to go out to Hanley to pick up the dying laptop. I like the drive out to Hanley. And with the weather being nice, I was able to have the windows down and enjoy some 3Suns, Machel and Blaxx. But then that SWV song came on- the one remixed with Human Nature, and I actually burst into tears. It was so bad, I had to change the song. Sigh! Oh Mike!
I haven't left the tiny flat since Tuesday. It feels safe and secure. Plus I've been distracted by my new phone. Yes, I caved. I've jumped on the Blackberry bandwagon. I know I'm late to the party but it was there, so I took it. I mean, I'm paying Orange £30 a month, even more over the past couple months because I was roaming. My contract was due for renewal and I was eligible for a Blackberry, so of course I went for the newest one. It's been a bumpy ride thus far. I don't like change. I mean, I had a Samsung Tocco, which is a touch screen. I also have an iPod touch which I can get wi-fi on. So I've grown used to my touch screens. My fingers now feel uber-fat and it's taking me ages to tap out a simple text. It also takes great strength of will to ignore that little flashing red light. I don't want to turn into one of those people who sees the light flashing, and the rest of the world ceases to exist. They are the Pavolv's dogs of the 21st Century! But it is excellent being able to chat to my mates, especially my two best friends. I've known them since primary school and they live in the States and Canada. So chatting to them for free does kind of makeup for my terror.
So that's where I am today. Judge Judy is on, and I'm drinking my seventh or eighth mug of tea. I'm currently doing a taste test on different brands of green tea with Lemon. These are things that I do to fill my time. I am also excited because Waitrose will begin to restock my favourite apples in one week. So I have that to look forward to. Tis a simple life I lead.
The weather is nice, I have some nice soca on my iPod and school will be re-opening soon so I can go to the shops during the day without having to deal with shrieking teens. Plus Mr Bunny is back in four weeks and hopefully we'll be in a new place by July. So life could be better, but it could also be a lot worse. Here's to optimisim and contentment. Today.
Monday, 1 February 2010
Thursday, 21 January 2010
MJ and me
I'm sure the reader of this blog hasn't failed to notice that my 'pseudonymn' is about Michael Jackson. I'm a huge fan. Have been for about fifteen years now. Before that, I was just a fan. But when I was fifteen, my dad gave me HIStory for Christmas, and that was the trigger. That was also the year he gave me Prince's 3-disc epic, but that didn't have the same effect. Hmmm.
Anyway, I love Michael Jackson, and for a while was slightly obsessed. I remember downloading his autobiagraphy from the internet one afternoon. This was in the days of dial-up, so it took about four hours. I then stayed up until half-two the following morning reading it. I would record any little snippet of news or telly to do with Michael Jackson- three minute reports on Inside Edition, a mention of him on Hard Copy, a clip of an interview on regional news. Usually, I'd just program the VCR, but I didn't trust it when it came to MJ, so I'd actually set my alarm to wake up so I could go downstairs and press 'record' myself, if something was on late at night. I also used to set my alarm to wake up to watch porn, but that's by the by. Hey, I was a fourteen-year old virgn, going to a convent school. Gimme a break!
I'd visit all these fan sites and download and print off photos of him. I'd print off the black and white ones at home, and the colour ones at my dad's office. And because I chose to spend my allowance on other things, I'd do a sort of homemade laminating with scotch tape and lots of patience. I'd put these pictures up in my MJ corner, which was up by the head of my bed. I'd go to second-hand book stores and look for magazines or books that had his photo on the cover or his name in the title. I'd post in fan forums. And when we went to St Thomas on holiday in 1997, I found the most perfect video called Michael Jackson: The Legend Continues. I also ended up snogging the salesdude from the record store I bought it in. Go me! I ordered a Jackson 5 Anthology, which was effing awesome and which I listened to constantly. I made mix-tapes...about fifteen if memory serves. And my parents got me a walkman one year, because they were sick of me begging them to play my tapes in the car when we were on holiday. I'd make my dad bring me CDs or tapes whenever he went on a business trip. And for a few years, I signed all my emails and letters "Peace, Love and Michael Jackson". I think this lost me a few friends and a lot of respect, but I wasn't running for public office so it was cool.
I could go on, and on and on. I did it all. The only thing I didn't do was see him perform and I'd planned to do that when he finally returned to the stage in London. My Nigerian posse over here are huge fans as well, so we were all hoping to get tickets. But the fates were against us. I was even considering buying one of the VIP tickets at £730 a pop.
And then the news broke.
I was having trouble sleeping that night, because my husband was getting on my nerves...as per. And just as I was dozing off, he shook me to tell me that Michael Jackson was being taken to hospital. I was like, "Oh, ok. As long as he isn't dead." Then my mate The Princess texted me to say that Michael Jackson was dead, and I replied "Well, BBC News says he isn't, so I'm going with that. Talk to you tomorrow!" Then my ex (who is also The Princess's brother) phoned me to tell me that Michael Jackson was dead, and I was like "BBC News says he isn't, so I don't know. Can I ring you tomorrow?" This is all hazy because I was at that halfway point between sleep and wake. I was actually more annoyed that people were texting and calling me at that hour of the night, when anyone who knows me properly, knows that I don't like being disturbed after nine o'clock!
But then the next morning, when I switched on BBC Breakfast, I realised it was true. And I couldn't believe it. I didn't cry though, but I was just incredibly sad. Let's get one thing straight. I may be a bitch, but I do have a heart. However, I do not cry for celebrities. The only people that are worth my tears are my friends and family, or ordinary people who are going through extreme hardship. So as sad as I was, my eyes remained dry. When I went to the dentist that morning, the shop opposite was blasting a radio station that was obviously paying tribute to him, and taking calls from listeners. Good music all morning. When I came home, I knew that the music channels would be showing interviews and what not, so I kept the telly on them.
And then I became angry.
All these celebrities being interviewed, talking about how great he was and how sad they all are now that he's dead, and I just thought "Fuck you. Fuck ALL of you! Where the hell were you when he was going through hard times and all he wanted was a kind word and some support? Fucking bastards! Now all of you 'can't stop crying' and are 'devastated'. Fuck off and die, the lot of you!" And that feeling continued throught the day. But I still didn't shed a tear. My husband went back to work the following morning, and I was heading off to the Manor (which is where The Princess lives...obviously) for her anniversary party. As I was getting ready to go and packing my suitcase, You Are Not Alone came on the telly. And THAT was when I shed a tear.
All Michael Jackson did was love and he wanted love in return, and the world just shat all over him. And as cheesy as it was, You are Not Alone was very apt, because he was sort of alone. It just made me so sad. Sad is the only word I can think to describe how I felt. I have never in my life cried over a celebrity death. Never. But I think MJ was worth it. That Saturday in June, at the Manor, the Madams and our Nigerian posse paid tribute in our own way. We danced all day and all night to Mike, stopping to shake our heads in shock. But it was a brilliant day.
His memorial service was another issue entirely. I cried like a baby for most of it, and I even bought a copy of it in Trinidad. But I haven't had the stones to watch it yet. It's even on my DVR, but also can't watch it again. Sigh!
This post became even more relevant, because last night his 30th Anniversary Special was on telly. It was like a car crash. I wanted to watch, but I couldn't. So I kept flicking back and forth. And in the end I couldn't sleep. I stayed up way past my bedtime, just laying in bed willing him back to life. Let's see if it works...
In the mean time, here are some of my favourite MJ songs, from different stages in his career. I haven't chosen well-known songs, so hopefully dear reader, you will appreciate them.
He recorded this early on his career with the Jackson 5, so was between 11 and 13, and his voice is just amazing. I love the haunting quality of the first lines and remember when I first heard it. I couldn't believe that this song existed. I fell in love with it immediately, and was like "YES MIKE!!! YOU CAN SEE ME IN THE MORNING!!!" Oh my.
This song reminds me of nighttime in Spain. I'd have this song on loop overnight, to help me sleep. so when I hear this, I'm just reminded of me laying in bed in the dark, dreaming about the guy I fancied at work and MJ in alternate fantasies. I love his voice on this track. So smooth, so perfect. The tonal quality is excellent and when he gets to the end and is singing in the higher key, almost like he's pleading, it just kills me. Even listening to it now is a bit much. It makes me shake inside.
I first heard this song on that video I bought in St Thomas. I loved that it was a live performance as well, since until that point the only live video I could think of was 'Another Part of Me'. I'd never heard this song before, but I LOVE it and I love his perfomance of it and the irony is that this video is from the same tour as 'Another Part of Me'. It looks like he's somewhere in Asia and everyone's just bloody loving it. And the fact that he's enjoying this performance so much, even though it's an older song just shows that he was simply born to do this. I love that outfit he wore on the Bad tour. I think it's my favourite.
My favourite song from Invincible. I honestly can't describe how it makes me feel. I remember putting this on when I went to the Academia on Saturdays to work on lessons and materials. I'd sit there, eating pizza, drawing out clocks on sheets of bristol board, and singing along to this. He is voice on this track gave me butterflies. I think it's right up there with Don't Stop Til You Get Enough as my all time favourite MJ song.
I think Micheal Jackson's is the only celebrity death I've ever really cared about before and it'll probably be the last. I mean, I don't think I'll be that bothered when Justin Timbertesticles goes over to the other side or when Madonna finally does the respectable thing and surrenders what's left of her soul.
Michael Jackson was special and even though I've never met him and most like never would have, I honestly miss him.
Anyway, I love Michael Jackson, and for a while was slightly obsessed. I remember downloading his autobiagraphy from the internet one afternoon. This was in the days of dial-up, so it took about four hours. I then stayed up until half-two the following morning reading it. I would record any little snippet of news or telly to do with Michael Jackson- three minute reports on Inside Edition, a mention of him on Hard Copy, a clip of an interview on regional news. Usually, I'd just program the VCR, but I didn't trust it when it came to MJ, so I'd actually set my alarm to wake up so I could go downstairs and press 'record' myself, if something was on late at night. I also used to set my alarm to wake up to watch porn, but that's by the by. Hey, I was a fourteen-year old virgn, going to a convent school. Gimme a break!
I'd visit all these fan sites and download and print off photos of him. I'd print off the black and white ones at home, and the colour ones at my dad's office. And because I chose to spend my allowance on other things, I'd do a sort of homemade laminating with scotch tape and lots of patience. I'd put these pictures up in my MJ corner, which was up by the head of my bed. I'd go to second-hand book stores and look for magazines or books that had his photo on the cover or his name in the title. I'd post in fan forums. And when we went to St Thomas on holiday in 1997, I found the most perfect video called Michael Jackson: The Legend Continues. I also ended up snogging the salesdude from the record store I bought it in. Go me! I ordered a Jackson 5 Anthology, which was effing awesome and which I listened to constantly. I made mix-tapes...about fifteen if memory serves. And my parents got me a walkman one year, because they were sick of me begging them to play my tapes in the car when we were on holiday. I'd make my dad bring me CDs or tapes whenever he went on a business trip. And for a few years, I signed all my emails and letters "Peace, Love and Michael Jackson". I think this lost me a few friends and a lot of respect, but I wasn't running for public office so it was cool.
I could go on, and on and on. I did it all. The only thing I didn't do was see him perform and I'd planned to do that when he finally returned to the stage in London. My Nigerian posse over here are huge fans as well, so we were all hoping to get tickets. But the fates were against us. I was even considering buying one of the VIP tickets at £730 a pop.
And then the news broke.
I was having trouble sleeping that night, because my husband was getting on my nerves...as per. And just as I was dozing off, he shook me to tell me that Michael Jackson was being taken to hospital. I was like, "Oh, ok. As long as he isn't dead." Then my mate The Princess texted me to say that Michael Jackson was dead, and I replied "Well, BBC News says he isn't, so I'm going with that. Talk to you tomorrow!" Then my ex (who is also The Princess's brother) phoned me to tell me that Michael Jackson was dead, and I was like "BBC News says he isn't, so I don't know. Can I ring you tomorrow?" This is all hazy because I was at that halfway point between sleep and wake. I was actually more annoyed that people were texting and calling me at that hour of the night, when anyone who knows me properly, knows that I don't like being disturbed after nine o'clock!
But then the next morning, when I switched on BBC Breakfast, I realised it was true. And I couldn't believe it. I didn't cry though, but I was just incredibly sad. Let's get one thing straight. I may be a bitch, but I do have a heart. However, I do not cry for celebrities. The only people that are worth my tears are my friends and family, or ordinary people who are going through extreme hardship. So as sad as I was, my eyes remained dry. When I went to the dentist that morning, the shop opposite was blasting a radio station that was obviously paying tribute to him, and taking calls from listeners. Good music all morning. When I came home, I knew that the music channels would be showing interviews and what not, so I kept the telly on them.
And then I became angry.
All these celebrities being interviewed, talking about how great he was and how sad they all are now that he's dead, and I just thought "Fuck you. Fuck ALL of you! Where the hell were you when he was going through hard times and all he wanted was a kind word and some support? Fucking bastards! Now all of you 'can't stop crying' and are 'devastated'. Fuck off and die, the lot of you!" And that feeling continued throught the day. But I still didn't shed a tear. My husband went back to work the following morning, and I was heading off to the Manor (which is where The Princess lives...obviously) for her anniversary party. As I was getting ready to go and packing my suitcase, You Are Not Alone came on the telly. And THAT was when I shed a tear.
All Michael Jackson did was love and he wanted love in return, and the world just shat all over him. And as cheesy as it was, You are Not Alone was very apt, because he was sort of alone. It just made me so sad. Sad is the only word I can think to describe how I felt. I have never in my life cried over a celebrity death. Never. But I think MJ was worth it. That Saturday in June, at the Manor, the Madams and our Nigerian posse paid tribute in our own way. We danced all day and all night to Mike, stopping to shake our heads in shock. But it was a brilliant day.
His memorial service was another issue entirely. I cried like a baby for most of it, and I even bought a copy of it in Trinidad. But I haven't had the stones to watch it yet. It's even on my DVR, but also can't watch it again. Sigh!
This post became even more relevant, because last night his 30th Anniversary Special was on telly. It was like a car crash. I wanted to watch, but I couldn't. So I kept flicking back and forth. And in the end I couldn't sleep. I stayed up way past my bedtime, just laying in bed willing him back to life. Let's see if it works...
In the mean time, here are some of my favourite MJ songs, from different stages in his career. I haven't chosen well-known songs, so hopefully dear reader, you will appreciate them.
He recorded this early on his career with the Jackson 5, so was between 11 and 13, and his voice is just amazing. I love the haunting quality of the first lines and remember when I first heard it. I couldn't believe that this song existed. I fell in love with it immediately, and was like "YES MIKE!!! YOU CAN SEE ME IN THE MORNING!!!" Oh my.
This song reminds me of nighttime in Spain. I'd have this song on loop overnight, to help me sleep. so when I hear this, I'm just reminded of me laying in bed in the dark, dreaming about the guy I fancied at work and MJ in alternate fantasies. I love his voice on this track. So smooth, so perfect. The tonal quality is excellent and when he gets to the end and is singing in the higher key, almost like he's pleading, it just kills me. Even listening to it now is a bit much. It makes me shake inside.
I first heard this song on that video I bought in St Thomas. I loved that it was a live performance as well, since until that point the only live video I could think of was 'Another Part of Me'. I'd never heard this song before, but I LOVE it and I love his perfomance of it and the irony is that this video is from the same tour as 'Another Part of Me'. It looks like he's somewhere in Asia and everyone's just bloody loving it. And the fact that he's enjoying this performance so much, even though it's an older song just shows that he was simply born to do this. I love that outfit he wore on the Bad tour. I think it's my favourite.
My favourite song from Invincible. I honestly can't describe how it makes me feel. I remember putting this on when I went to the Academia on Saturdays to work on lessons and materials. I'd sit there, eating pizza, drawing out clocks on sheets of bristol board, and singing along to this. He is voice on this track gave me butterflies. I think it's right up there with Don't Stop Til You Get Enough as my all time favourite MJ song.
I think Micheal Jackson's is the only celebrity death I've ever really cared about before and it'll probably be the last. I mean, I don't think I'll be that bothered when Justin Timbertesticles goes over to the other side or when Madonna finally does the respectable thing and surrenders what's left of her soul.
Michael Jackson was special and even though I've never met him and most like never would have, I honestly miss him.
Wednesday, 13 January 2010
About two feet tall
Haiti. When I was at school, we learned about Haiti's history and about Toussaint L'Ouverture. This was all explained in David Rudder's brilliantly sad song Haiti I'm Sorry. And these words are no more relevant than today.
Haiti seems to be a country blighted by everything known to man. Rampant poverty and illiteracy, crime, corruption (Papa Doc and Baby Doc ruled for for years, draining any wealth out of the system) and now natural disasters. They've been hit by hurricanes, floods, mudslides and now an earthquake.
I feel particularly small today, as I've been so wrapped up in that blanket of myself lately. And here these people are trying to yet again, come out from a dark period. It's things like these that do make me question the existence of God. But I have to keep my sanity by telling myself that all things happen for a reason. And maybe this time it's to help the rest of the world put things in perspective. We seem to be not learning any lessons. There's a train of thought in Trinidad that goes "Some people need a tap on the shoulder, and others need a cuff in the face!" and it seems that we need that cuff in the face to wake up to the reality of our lives.
I just hope they catch a break soon. How much more can these people take? Haiti, I truly am sorry.
Haiti seems to be a country blighted by everything known to man. Rampant poverty and illiteracy, crime, corruption (Papa Doc and Baby Doc ruled for for years, draining any wealth out of the system) and now natural disasters. They've been hit by hurricanes, floods, mudslides and now an earthquake.
I feel particularly small today, as I've been so wrapped up in that blanket of myself lately. And here these people are trying to yet again, come out from a dark period. It's things like these that do make me question the existence of God. But I have to keep my sanity by telling myself that all things happen for a reason. And maybe this time it's to help the rest of the world put things in perspective. We seem to be not learning any lessons. There's a train of thought in Trinidad that goes "Some people need a tap on the shoulder, and others need a cuff in the face!" and it seems that we need that cuff in the face to wake up to the reality of our lives.
I just hope they catch a break soon. How much more can these people take? Haiti, I truly am sorry.
Tuesday, 12 January 2010
Doh hol meh back, ah feelin' RHELLL slack!
I am currently in love with 3 Suns' new song, Wine Low. I have ALWAYS liked 3 Suns and have been baffled by their lack of commercial success for Carnival. They have great songs and I luurrrve them! This year they come REAL good. RHELLLLLLL good. I don't know if it's as good as We Eh Leavin', but it's at least as good as Levitate, Elevate.
I downloaded it on to my iPod this morning for my journey into uni, and had quite a nice time listening to it on the train. It made me so happy, I was there wining in my seat. As far as I'm aware, Virgin Trains do not have a policy on people bussing a small wine in their seat, so I did so with reckless abandon. Luckily I was in the Quiet Coach and it was fairly empty. This, and the fact tha Thunder was on my playlist just before this song, made me so happy, even though it was all grey and cold and depressing. All I could see was me in my costume, Wining lowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlow!!!
So, take this and enjoy. :)
Oh gad-oh!!!
I downloaded it on to my iPod this morning for my journey into uni, and had quite a nice time listening to it on the train. It made me so happy, I was there wining in my seat. As far as I'm aware, Virgin Trains do not have a policy on people bussing a small wine in their seat, so I did so with reckless abandon. Luckily I was in the Quiet Coach and it was fairly empty. This, and the fact tha Thunder was on my playlist just before this song, made me so happy, even though it was all grey and cold and depressing. All I could see was me in my costume, Wining lowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlowlow!!!
So, take this and enjoy. :)
Oh gad-oh!!!
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