Wednesday, July 30, 2008

A Life in Wax

The Beginning of the End:
Another night alone in my bed. The thought of the way I had you beside me puts a shiver in my head.
Some days I am fine, some days I am weak. But not a day goes by when I do not submit to the way you made me feel.
Distances have abridged miles between us, emptiness seems to be the only sound that echoes between our two figures. The silence between us still seems so loud to me.
How come when I think of you, no matter how cruel you treated me, it never mends my broken heart?

The End of the Beginning:
I am so lonely. It feels so long ago that I felt good. I have succumb to the grace of love, the crazy craze of love, the truth of love. Only a fool is the one who really believes in love. If I could just make love to you one more time. This time I am sure we could make it right. You don't want me anymore. I know you are no good for me, you don't have what I need.

Then and Now:
Flashing lights of energies that have passed me by. Still motions captured in time, recollections flood the traps of my concave mind. Like a statue made of wax, to me you still seem real. Melted, disintegrated, aged and discoloured with time; is it normal that I still can't get you off my mind? I wish I could hate, beseech you, erase you. All I can continue to do is forgive you.

I am not sure if I am strong enough. Some days I feel as though I can never be the same again. I know I must try, or with the pain of abandonment and resentment I will die. For me, you must cry. With a steady drip, you must cool to dry.

Day Out, Day In:
The sound of a woman's voice comes through my headphones as I lay in bed. She talks about her struggle to grow beyond the pain. With the tragedy of growing pains she questions if she can survive. Misery is not sweet, it is defeat. I turn the music down and her voice grows louder. I turn the volume up and the pain seeps in quietly.

Concluding the Beginning of the End:
Look at what I have become. Not a day goes by when I do not think of you. Not a night goes by when I do not feel for you. I wish I could chase these blues away, but as every sad love song comes on, the smear of you across my heart seals my forever casted pain.

Rihanna : "Disturbia"

Hot, hot, hot! Her is the latest my Miss Rihanna. Under the direction of David LaChapelle, this video shows the influence of such videos as Marilyn Manson's "Beautiful People," Christina Aguliera's "Fighter," and Madonna's "Frozen." I will admit that I enjoy Rihanna more than many of the generic, younger female black artists coming out in the past two years. I still think there is room for her to develop her sound to better represent her island identity, but she is just beginning and I hope she enjoys success for time to come. That is, as long as she does not make a track as BAD as "4 Minutes!" Sorry Madge.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Figlio Perduto

We all live only to die.
But life is too short to waste a day crumbling with worries about feeling like death.
Today I heard the news of a young boy who has lost his mother. She is gone.
The idea of thinking what that boy is going through makes me feel sick in the core of my stomach, I feel lighter in my head and I feel the shadows of darkness fill the water in my eyes.
How can life be so cruel to those who actually try to be good people, kind people, people who give love as much as they receive it.
On some days like today it all just seems like a sick joke to me. Like we have all been placed here to see how human we can really remain amongst all the withdrawing hands, careless secrets that are passed on through a chain of burning ears, all the people that will choose themselves before you time and again. Sometimes it can be such a lonely road.

I can't help but wonder if this is really the way that things are meant to be. I wish I could hold that boy close and tell him that everything will be alright, but I know right now that is untrue. I can't comfort the loss of the idea of a memory that may fade in time, a touch that you may forget to feel, the voice that you sill struggle to hear the sound of tuck you in at night.

A child's pain is incomparable to our own because they already have to see so much pain and suffering from such a young age. A mother's touch is like a security blanket that hides away all the monsters and keeps the shadows at bay in the lure of the blackness of night. I think of how destroyed I would be if I could not have my mother beside me and I am not a child anymore.

We all live only to die.
I pray that there is some salvation of all the pain, all the struggle that is taken to elevate your mind at this endless game. Today my thoughts are with this boy, every second, every breath. I know that it is the time to mourn and cry, but I suspect that his mother will remain the apple of his eye.

Brother Brother

I can't seem to forgive you, for no matter how I try I see that you care for no one other than yourself. You are cold and calculated, you hold the lock but you watch to see others fumble with the key. Have you ever stepped outside your selfish ways to see that there are many more things to life other than your immediate fulfillment and concentration on winning over things that will surely pass.

Your a empty little man. You manipulate, you cheat and you lie. You have no empathy and you care for yourself as if you were someone who mattered more than anyone else. You are not. If you hear the things that people really think about you maybe you would see how little it has done to win people over as your friends. You can not keep a friend if you do not what it is to be one. Grow up, you are lame for acting like half your age. Communicate using words, not yelling at people like they are under your control and are to cater to the bar that you ask them to jump.

I listen to you yell and my ears bleed all the years of frustration and abuse I have taken from you. I know that blood runs thicker than water but it was not my choice for us to be so indifferent. I can not imagine that I would be as slimy and judgemental with my friends as you are. I think that if I was, I would at least learn with time.

I know from the measure of how I am with my sister that you have done nothing to encourage me, believe in me, help me or be there for me over the years. I use to sit quietly and watch you abuse me through your words and your insensitive actions. You teased me for being the way that I am. I am different then you and for this I am glad.

One day you will see, what a separation of mountains stand enforced, permanently between you and me. I would have hoped that you would have learned from the way that we saw our parents argue, the way that you saw the struggle of mom with dad. The bruises of skin and emotions led me to think you would re-consider your jaded devotions.

I was wrong.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

FUNNY Alicia Keys vs. Rabbit MTV Commercial Spots

These are a couple of my favourites of my boo....I laughed my ass off! Well...not quite? It's still there (0;

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Goodbye Golden Girl: Estelle Getty Dies at 84

This news is simply devastating, in the words of Blanche Deveroux. Dear, sweet and beyond cute, Estelle Getty passed away this morning at the age of 84, her son confirmed with a statement. Her family and friends were at her side in her home in Los Angeles home and 3 days short of her 85th birthday.

The time could not have been more odd for me. The Golden Girls have always been and remain one of my favourite shows of all time. Last week a friend of mine gave me season one on DVD and I watched 15 episodes in 3 days. So good people. The joy that Estelle's character, Sofia Petrillo has given me with her blunt tongue and through prancing around with her little straw purse and judging people is beyond imaginable. You can't forget her "picture it, Sicily..." stories. Though she was little, she packed a most hilarious punch and a mean left hand! Her comedic time was genius, her punch lines are unforgettable. I, in fact remember watching The Golden Girls with my Ba (grandma) and her telling me that "the old woman" was her favourite. My Ba had an appreciation for the funny when she saw it.

Getty had been diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia but she has been suffering from poor health over the recent years. In 1988 Getty won an Emmy for outstanding supporting actress in a comedy series for her work in Golden Girls.

Goodbye my golden friend, you will be missed and remembered.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Milky Rain

"Ya baby, keep your ass right there. You look so fucking sexy when you are loose like this. On your knees, dipped down low. Your stomach pacing in and out. Fuck I want you so bad. I just wanna..."

I saw her looking at me, peering so weakly at my control, the top of her head rested on the Egyptian cotton sheets as if she were trying to do a headstand. I watched the muscles of her stomach tighten and loosen and imagined what it would be like...what it would sound like when she released her sweetness on my face.

"I want you to cum. But not yet. Do you understand. First I wanna fuck your ass. Are you okay with that?"

Her legs shook wildly and she looked like she was in between ecstasy and trauma. She nodded obediently. Her elbows rested on the bed. Her hands gripped the sheets as if she were holding on for the ride of her life. I licked my fingers and traced around the edge of her ass crack. I could feel her tense. Her ass tightened its hold on me.

"Relax," I said. "I am not gonna hurt you. I just need to hear you squirm the sound that can only be released when you let me enter the forbidden passage to reach deep inside your secret, sacred zone. I want you to feel as though you want to scream and cry. Fuck baby, you don't know how much I want to fuck you in your tight ass."

I pushed her ass forward and she fell messily on to the bed, stomach first and slammed her head in the pillow. "No, no, up you go," I said. She obeyed.

She seemed more intent this time. She aroused up and this time with a grunt she said, "fuck me now from behind NOW" I was so damn agreeable. I licked my finger and tingled it like a Christmas bell and the edge of her asshole. She sounded pleased, I like that. I slowly slid it into her, slow and first, but gained stride like a marathon runner on her last leg.

She began to rock with me, slow and faster and faster. I grunted and I lost control. "Fuck ya," I said. Profanities slipped from my mouth like a dirty trucker who spits too much. I took my hand and wrapped it around her thigh, holding her so tight, I closed my eyes and felt her ass slap against the skin of my stomach. I lifted her up higher, as I slid the second finger in. She may have thought that I was trying to please her, but this was not the only desire I felt. I could feel the drip of my pussy start running down my leg and I wanted her ass to kiss my creamy extract.

"I am so wet baby. I want to take you there. I wanna feel your ass smash against my pussy. I want my juice to drip down your ass into your crack and I want to taste it," I murmured in dire need.

At this point I could have ripped her apart and it wouldn't have mattered. She was mine and I was hers. I thrashed my brown skin against her beautiful copper tone. She screamed my name and said "ooh baby, more, more! I want you to live inside of me."

When I felt the mixture of our juices combine on her ass, I knew it was time to blow her mind. I stopped fucking her and pulled my fingers out. I pushed down on her ass and stretched out her shaking legs. I told her to rest. I watched her lay there and I felt so content. But I wanted to devour more of her. Her and me, I was craving the tasting of our sweet wines combined. I slapped her ass lightly and she flinched. She shivered and flayed ever so still.

I kissed in between her thighs, but she tried to resist but pushing them close. I did not allow her to do this. I pushed her wide open again. I leaned down to smell her. She smelled like a combination of cotton candy and sticky sweets. Now was the time.

I took a breath and I went in for what I wanted. I licked her ass, first in one quick motion. She shook and freaked out. The taste was on my tongue and I wanted more. I wanted her all over my face to outline in white the shape of a dirty smile. I stuck in. I ate her ass for what seemed like hours, pulsing my tongue in and out, spitting and gulping her up like orange juice in the early morning. Now she arrived. Now.

She collasped even deeper. She lay still, I looked when I could glance a quick peek in my disorientation and her eyes were closed. Her body was experiencing some sort of possession, her face was in deep prayer. She begged for more and more. Eventually I returned to the cats den and licked her from bottom to top and top to bottom.

I looked over to see the time. 4:38am. I had to stop, my jaw could not open anymore.

"Wow baby, look outside," I said. "I think it beginning to rain."

Friday, July 18, 2008

27 Ghosts

Another year has come and gone.
Though I have grown older, instead I, the lioness-crab feel wiser.
I trace the lines on my tears and remember all the pain I felt, how I feel apart in my mind and heart. From a haunting end to start, all I can do is remain focused on displaying the writings of my heart.

Everyday. I can mostly still see her silhouette in the sun, like the touch of a breeze on a most perfect of days. I can't help but wonder why things have to come to an end when my only desire is for it not to end. Like an immortal trying to reach out to the otherside, I must except not being seen but sensed. Whether you except it or not, I am still here.

I still bleed and trickle down the front of your white dress with messy distress. I am still very much alive, I see red, though you may choose to see me as dead. A sound penetrates aloud that would frighten anyone to a sitting up stance in their bed. A most torturous, mortifying sound, thumps in my head. Here I ascend in myself, in my dear love. I will not let her slip away.

I touch my skin. I am still here. A tear drop, one single tear drop is all I can spare if I am to survive for deserts of time for more then a single year.
One tear drop continues to fall every day to pay dues for my burden, that I have chosen to carry along the way. It will not go away.

The truth in time has revealed itself to me in a mysterious form; so many that I have loved have gone astray, they have not even picked up the phone to wish me well on my special day. I will linger around them, like a memory that you can not forget. My face will remain their constant beyond my dying days. I will cross the river when my time has come to row away.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Strong Home

I know with each day I grow just a little stronger. Finally I am learning that I must set some boundaries and limits to my inherent sufferings and realize that I am set to endure a story that is worthy of being told. If I can just find the words. I speak of an interesting irony and baffling pain. Of bridges crossed and bridges burned. About the tenderness of the gentlest love and the lacerations that laid within the facility of my silent sadness of heart.

I miss you so much sometimes. I don't even know if you exist but on my best days I am convinced that you do. I hum a sweet melody at the thought of you being close to me in the night. I swear there are no other words that reflect the thought and feeling of you other than pure delight. I giggle at my foolish ways, imagine riding the streetcar and getting excited at the idea of becoming closer to where you are. Closer to you. I had it once, I wish for it again. I am strong enough to remember that I will mend, if the reality of our happiness was to bend.

I have fallen apart, I have rested my loose heart in front of me and interrogated her defiant and resistant nature. Why must she be such a fool, for the fool falls in delight for what is immediate. I love that reckless feeling. Love at first sight, basic instinct, two people that have wandered through life to find solace in eachother. Peace. Knowing that there will always be someone to see you as the woman you are.

I have learned that I must be brave enough to remember what it is that I deserve. I still wake up hurting so much to feel that kind of love again. Happiness is a choice, the trick is learning to say no when you realize something makes you feel bad. Love can be blind, but it's your responsibility to open your mind. Never sail away from the way you had wished it to be, or they way you were once happy. Educate and try your best to move on. Remember that you must be free. Here. Now. We all are human, we all feel pain, abandonment and illogical fear. The bitter is equal to the sweet. The bitter leaves you feeling much more sore. Sweet mercy.

The furniture looks cheap when it is cheap. The decor is not trendy, nor a redemption of a past fad when there is not thought put into a making it a home. She was never able to give me her heart alone.

Alone love can take away the sadness that is ever so true. In our hands is the power to create an art, a home between me and you.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Katee and Joshua - Bollywood by Nakule and Marla - So You Think You Can Dance

I was blown away by this performance. BROWN POWER! So You Think You Can Dance is always fun to watch and they manage to connect with finding some pretty amazing talent every season.


My Dear Friends First Curatorial Project! "Cake on the Icing"


8th Annual InterAccess Emerging Artists Exhibition
Featuring Serena Lee, Robert Lendrum, Melanie Lowe, Petrina Ng, Freya Björg Olafson and Scott Saunders

Curated by Shaun Dacey
July 11- August 9, 2008

Opening Reception with artists talk and performance by Freya Björg Olafson, Friday, July 11, 7pm
Emerging Artists expose their deepest personal thoughts...well not really...
InterAccess is pleased to present Cake on the Icing, the 8th Annual Emerging Artists Exhibition. Since 2001, InterAccess has mounted an annual Emerging Artists' Exhibition showcasing new media works by post-secondary students and/or recent graduates. This initiative aims to offer young artists professional experience and exposure.

Please join us on Friday July 11 at 7pm for Cake on the Artists: Talk with your mouth full. We invite you for fluffy cake and rich discussion as the curator leads an informal talk with the artists about their works. Followed by an opening reception and Björg Olafson's performance at 8pm

Curator Shaun Dacey brings together six artists who are about to take a bite out of the art world, Serena Lee, Robert Lendrum, Melanie Lowe, Petrina Ng, Freya Björg Olafson, and Scott Saunders in this delicious display.

With the emergence of various communication technologies we are forced into a constant game of keeping up appearances. With online social networking sites like Facebook, YouTube, and Flickr, and the ease of digital photography individuals can seamlessly recreate and re-imagine personal experience for consumption by a voyeuristic public. The artists in the 8th annual Emerging Artists Exhibition at InterAccess question the ways we share and process personal experience by using personal and private information and images to create dynamic and complex works through the use of everyday media. The artists are not exposing personal secrets but instead present works deliberately planned, styled and embellished for public consumption much like a freshly iced wedding cake.

These works from across Canada confront the urge to relate our intimate experiences publicly for debate, acceptance and validation. Serena Lee's musical installations playfully mediate the awkward and confusing experience of learning classical piano. Robert Lendrum uses images from his family album as a source for quirky re-enactments casting himself as his father and grandfather, while Petrina Ng animates and appropriates family images producing objective studies of intimate moments. Melanie Lowe's installation continuously collects and projects Facebook 'Status Updates' turning textual representations of self into a nonsensical, ephemeral, and surreal take on online identity and surveillance. Freya Björg Olafson weaves a compelling duet with her laptop in a multimedia dance performance using found audio from YouTube at the opening reception, while Scott Saunders' video installation distorts an intense private conversation into incoherent and confusing sound bytes between two television sets.

Cake on the Icing focuses on the power media offers individuals in creating and developing new and ever-changing identities in a public context.

Source: link in title

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Lake Ontario....OH HELL NO

Would you go swimming in Lake Ontario? That is what I want to know. My personal answer is HELL NO. There is something off putting to me about the colour of the water which looks like years of rubbish spillage and pollution have taken its toll on on one of North America's Great Lakes.

I was watching the news today and they reported that they has closed off an area of water as unsafe, along the Lakeshore. I think that is about enough for me to not ever want to go in the water again (not that I have in years). When I think of the kind of water that I want to swim in and pretend that I am Ariel or a dolphin, I think of a blue-green colour of l'aqua with lovely trees and flowers surrounding my view. A beach. Yes a beach. Not man made, but natural. Maybe I have seen too many Royal Caribbean commercials, but people you won't see me jumping into a gangsta's paradise. I would rather swim in a kid-pee, public pool!

Now I am not an expert on bodies of water, nor am I able to really say what condition of water is really "safe" to swim in. But regardless of whether this water is safe to swim in or not, I can not get past the odour of stench along the Lakeshore on a hot summers day. Honestly it is offensive. For those who don't leave Toronto, I say take a trip along the QEW West on a 40 degree day and you will know exactly what I am talking about when it smacks your nostrils like fowl roadkill. Gross. I feel bad for any of those poor souls who bought condos along that area and will probably never be able to open their windows for a breath of fresh air.

I am aware that there is a difference between an ocean and a lake or river. I would still rather cross and ocean, before a lake or a river. So the choice is yours but you won't catch me taking a skinny dip in Lake Ontario. The fear of growing an extra limb or turning white is too frightening for me to get past.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

WrItInGs On tHE WaLL

You can not underestimate the power of yourself.
You can control your circumstances by taking control of your reactions to your desires solidified outloud. Pain is elementarily built into our cores but our ability to have compassion seems like a bad translation of a foreign porno that is dubbed and reveals a bad director. I mean the words, sounds. Images. Images.

I like to watch how people react to themselves when they wound you. I can't find you likable if I am not on your side. When you are in need of the understanding you deserve, you can be shaken by how alarmingly quick you can see someone hastily get rid of you. Once you mattered, now you don't. Do you really know who cares for you? I'm learning to. I told you I am boss, first.

We all choose to be who we are. I choose to be my own boss and find my way through the long trails of hidden and lost and re-lost treasures, endless murky obstacles that seem to lead me in dizzy circles and with bleeding moments of fragments that lead me to feeling loved...disoriented. But not unsexed.
I am a woman. I can not be that which I am not. My body does not give me restrictions, it gives me endless possibility. As the sun rises in the moon's sleep, I can bare a life through the width of my hips in 360 sets and rises. I will exemplify my glory beyond the perfection I thought was my future.

Though at times I get scared, there is no reason to be afraid. If I am to be destroyed, I will be. If I am meant to succeed, I shall. But nothing will stop me from being.

The trails grow familiar, the obstacles are anticipated, fresh blood leaves you remembering of the potential of having love and happiness all at once. True love. True happiness. Illusion is the most visible ghost. I see the signs.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008


I am proud that when I fall, I can always stand back up in due time.
I am proud that I have a friend who loves me unconditionally and really sees the value of who I am.
I am proud that I am smiling even though I have died many times in this lifetime.
I am proud that my cat purrs with love when I rub her all over her grey fur.
I am proud that I am a woman that never gives up trying to better herself and appreciates the experience of the bitter and the sweet.
I am proud to have a brother and sister that can get on my nerves, but are by my side when I need them the most.
I am proud to be my mother's child.
I am proud that I am honest with integrity and kind with consistency equally.
I am proud that I have never lied to you, though I may have lied to myself.
I am proud that I have a new set of glasses and a restored outlook on my life.
I am proud that though I have been taunted by your fibs, I have never stopped knowing the strategy of your foolish games, or respecting the deep love I once held for only you.
I am proud that I have have so much colour that surrounds my heart, even on the cloudiest of days.
I am proud that I have fallen apart.
I am proud that I will never forget your strength and will for survival.
I am proud that I will be better tomorrow then I am today.
I am proud that one day you shall remember that I am the one who opened your eyes to the possibilities of life's journey.
I am proud to have a niece that reminds me of the simplicity of beauty and love.
I am proud to have fixated, learned and obsessed about the people, events and arts that inspire me.
I am proud to have music as the soundtrack of the crescendos in my life.
I am proud that one day I shall be gone and someone will remember the way I made him/her feel.
I am proud that I have grown to see that there is a light beyond the immediate darkness.
I am proud to know that I have laughed so hard that I have welled up tears in my eyes and felt pure joy in the pit of my stomach.
I am proud that I saw your beautiful smile.
I am proud because I mourned your loss as if you were connected to my own body and heart.
I am proud that I have inspired you with my words and devotion, even if we can't be friends anymore.
I am proud to say things that make you uncomfortable, but force you to think.
I am proud that I always say thank you.
I am proud that I would rather die before not knowing the embrace of a gentle love.
I am proud to be me. Unconditionally.