i love words, i love the form, i love the structure of them. i`ve been a voracious reader, well, since i learned to read. my first book was tootles the taxi. as i understand it, i got it when i was about 1. i learned to read it, then i ate it. cover to cover.
that would become my modus opernadi with reading. i spent my childhood in the company of books. when i left the primary school system, i donated all the books i`d collected to the school library. i used to lead expeditions from school to the public library. my mother encouraged this in me, i knew on the 23rd of every month there would be a book for me.
as i grew older other things caught my attention, but i always came back to the books and scrabble. i`m an average scrabble player now, i used to be better, when i played regularly.
i`m not a fan of the traditional classics, i have read dickens and the like, but i cut my teeth on stephen king and issac asimov, clarke. i was introduced rushdie, allende and marquez recently and i am richer for it.
i`ll read almost anything. i`ve tried bodice rippers, but they do nothing for me and i will finish a book no matter how much i hate it. there are books that i`ve wanted to fling across the room in frustration at how poorly it was written.
i enjoy etymology, the root of the words and language fascinate me, it`s allowed me a basic reading ability of german.
my books are most important and prized possession. when i left trinidad, the only things i took with me, were 4 boxes of books. vic now has them, for she shares my love of the printed word. since i`ve been back here i`ve managed to collect another boxful of books.
reading and words are my shields and my weapons. they`ve help make me what i am.
i seem to have a cat like ability to land on my feet.
there`s a standing joke in the advertising industry here about my penchant for leaving a job before i have something else lined up. to some it may seem irresponsible, but when i started in the industry i was setting type.
i`m going to date myself here, but i`m proud of my age. when i started in advertising, laser printers were the exception, not the rule. and types on an ad consisted of rubbing letraset characters. i was the new wave, we did the typography on the computer, using the 13 type faces that apple offered at the time. the artist would spec the type, we would do all of it up on the computer then send it out to the one lithographer in the country, who also owned the only laser printer in the country.
for the next five years, i grew with the burgeoning industry. from preparing artwork in full colour, to sending it for output to film, to going straight to the newspapers. we were on the edge of technology. our agency was the first and i was neck deep in it.
i helped production departments at the two major newspapers adjust to the new digital workflow, all the time learning and growing. my first marriage collapsed. i was distressed but i now had an excuse to spend 20 hours a day in the office.
this wasn`t a job anymore this was a career. and one day i realised i`d gotten as far as i was going to get where i was, so i quit. i had no job lined up, i was going to go home and be self employed.
and it was good. i made enough money to meet my commitments, i was happy and i made a decision, the day work ceased being fun i was going to stop. i try to keep that promise to myself.
i`ve left the industry in this country entirely for two years and now i`m back. working for a woman i have no respect for. in a job that pays less that i made when i left my first advertising gig.
i`ve been in this industry 12 years. i have enough experience to start my own business. why am i settling? why am i putting up with this shit? am i truly unhappy with my job or is it just my boss that i loathe? is it time for me to just walk away?
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design, advertising
believe it or not, this foul mouthed, arrogant, sexually starved, tattooed, pierced person before you was once and innocent, believing, unassuming wee lad.
i was a good catholic, i went to church every week, i was an altar boy, i even at one point considered joining the priesthood. i went to a catholic all boys school as well. my innocence was not lost to some sticky fingered, pedophile in the church. no i lost my innocence and childhood naivety in my caribbean history class, close the time i lost my virginity as well come to think of it.
i had a teacher who encouraged us to ask question. to defy convention and i started to wonder about the magna carta and why the native peoples of the americas were slaughtered in the name of god and why slavery was encouraged. basically why the church allowed so much evil to be done in their names.
at first i asked these questions of myself, but i had no answers, so i turned to my books and other books in the library but they only uncovered more atrocities committed in the name of `god`, so i turned to the priest who ran our school and they just seemed uncomfortable as the toed the line with rote responses. the more questions i asked, the more disturbed i became, i tried to be a good catholic but it wasn`t in me any more, how could i believe in something so corrupt.
i started reading the bible but the incongruities became more glaring to me and the questions i was asking began to reflect on the bible itself. i turned to islam but their track record wasn`t much better.
i realised religion on the whole was an opiate. the basic tenets were established by power brokers and politicians to help keep the masses in line.
i don`t take anything at face value, i don`t believe everything the news tells me to and i still question, on a daily basis. i question organised religion, i question politicians, businessmen, i question the news which is paid for by advertisers. but i work in a business where we sell lives and half truths for a living. it doesn`t necessarily get me the answers but it helps me perceive them better when they do appear.
a friend of mine once told me that the difference between nascar and formula one fans is in the quality of the inbreeding. i resent that.
i love formula one racing. not nascar, not irl, not formula 3000, nothing else. well, world rally championship, but my passion is formula one.
i got hooked as an adult three years ago in london. it was either formula one or footy on the telly on a damp sunday afternoon. yes they tended to be damp most of the time, but i had no company, no money and no interest in leaving the house. so i started watching the german grand prix and i`ve only missed a couple a couple of the races [well on television at least] since then.
i`ve been up at 2am to catch qualifying rounds from malaysia, raced home from formal dinners to catch the race from australia. i enjoy the racing. man and machine going around some of the most interesting of locations in the world at speed exceeding 200mph. what is there not to like?
when there is racing in europe, i need to get up early on a saturday [for qualifying] and sunday [race day] mornings, no matter what i did the night before.
this morning was no different, well it was. there was no racing. i forgot that there is a three week break between races. i never did manage to get back to sleep and that would explain the incoherence of this post.
i did nothing all day today. well work wise, nothing, zero, zip, zilch, nada, squat. the great satan did not grace us with her presence again and we were thrilled. those that had work were productive and i did nothing.
i talked to vic, i played around on the computer, but in terms of work nothing.
now why is this my personal hell? i`m afraid days like this always catch up to you. you`ll be praying for an extra 2 minutes to finish after a 36 hours day and you wont have it because of days like today.
compounding this is personal hell #12.
i have $66 to get me through the weekend. that`s at least three meals and travelling this weekend. that`s damn near impossible, i`ve been trying to remain calm about it and not panic, but here i am at 5pm on a friday afternoon with pittance in my pockets. what`s always depressing about this is people owe me money.
welcome to my personal hell
and i dream about sex.
lord do i dream about sex, of late my dreams have been partially of the last time i saw vic and fantasies based around the visit. loud sweaty sex, slow tender lovemaking, raw fucking, trying to devour each other, kissing, licking, sucking, nibbling, biting, moaning, screaming, seeing stars sex.
i like sex. no that`s an understatement, i love sex, i adore sex. and now i`ve found vic and we have a sexual chemistry that is amazing. it`s more than physical, there`s a mental bond. from the first time to the last time, it`s just gotten better and better.
my dreams are filled with textures and sounds and smells and tastes. i get up most mornings in shock that i`m alone in the bed because my dreams are so vivid. i have a tangible longing for vic, the taste of her skin, the feel of her skin against mine, our bodies intertwined, our voices intertwined. the changes in position, in tempo without thought, without words, just the two of us lost in each other, knowing.
that`s what i miss, that`s what i long for. masturbation can`t satisfy that kind of longing. and there is now way to recreate the feel of thighs pressed against my ear, vic`s hands in my hair, a melange of sensations – aural, tactile, redolent, palatable, visual, emotional…
i want it now. everyday. i don`t want to wake up alone anymore.
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wyf
sometime mid-afternoon i realised the internet connection was dropping. so like the good techno weenie that i am i called to inquire.
“oh nothing`s wrong”
“are you sure?”
“positive. have you cleared your cache?”
“yes and i`m pinging servers and none of them are responding”
“well it must be your connection.”
“oh really? well, l`ll reconnect.”
hung up the phone, reconnected, same problem, intermittent connection failure. struggled with it for the rest of the afternoon. called again just before i left…
“oh, we`re having network problems”
well of course you fucking morons, i told you that two hours ago. i really try not to be rude to tech support people but i`ve done tech support, i probably know more about their job than most of those phone jockeys, but at TSTT [hell yes, i`m calling fucking names] these fucking nimrods believe they are always right so when i call i always have to deal with the same fucking condescending tone. i hate that.
i`m using another account with another isp to connect but the problem seems nationwide.
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tstt
well that`s a bit of an exaggeration, i have an 80s playlist in itunes and i`m sitting at work with peter gabriel and general public and madness et al blaring out of the speakers. i am incredibly sleepy and there are all these very strange thoughts running around in my head.
if a straight woman who hangs out with gay man is a fag hag, what`s a straight[ish] man that hangs out with gay women called? {edit: a beard]
i just remember someone else who should stay home and enjoy their money, a couple some-bodies really. phil collins, lisa marie presley are two more people that should just fuck off and leave us to hell alone.
like i said this list will continue to grow as the names come to me.
and another thing, mtv and vh1, change your fucking names. talk about false advertising, when is the last time either one of these channels aired a fucking video. i thoroughly enjoyed i love the 70s and the 80s, but do i really to need to know about the glamourous life of j-lo and hot young pop stars? i think fucking not.
and what is this other piece of tripe that mtv has foisted on us the view. really who gives a fuck about jessica what`s her face and her equally forgettable husband. your reality cheque has bounced and the alarm clock on your 15 minutes has been fucking ringing for about 2 years.
i feel like a geriatric sometime when i complain about the poor quality being produced today. it`s a bunch of recycled garbage, i find myself listening to, more and more, the music i grew up on. everything seems so manufactured and commercial. i`m not saying there wasn`t manufactured and commercial in the 80s, do the names stock, aiken and waterman ring a bell? they foisted kylie [version 1], rick astley and quite a few soon forgotten one hit wonders but there was something about it, that didn`t seem so greedy and malicious as it seems now. or maybe i was still innocent then.
my boss is out today and i have fuck all to do. sweet. and no i didn`t kill her nor did i arrange to have her killed.
i continue to be on an even keel, even with all the bitching and moaning i`ve been doing. i don`t feel overwhelmed by it all. i`ve got problems but for the next couple of days at least they`re not going to get the best of me.
still unable to track down a non professional volleyball club, i`m thinking about doing tai chi. i don`t want to learn to hurt any in a physical manner, i think i have far too much experience at mental and emotional damage to add physical to my list of sins.
my thoughts are a little helter-skelter this morning, bear with me while i sort it out. i`m trying to budget money, i don`t have. it`s the fourth of the month and i don`t have money to get me through the weekend, far less the rest of the month.
i try not to stress about money. i try to work on the principle that when i need it, it will come to me. but days like today trying to plan out bill payments and paying what i owe, i wonder if i need to be more aggressive with the people that owe me.
i was up last night ironing [no, not for me, for my daughter, i`m firmly of the if it can`t be worn out of the wash then it should be, i loathe ironing]. when i was finished i had a back pain at which point i realised i need to creeping up to the 300lb mark again. that`s not good. most of the weight i`ve put on in the last 7 years is on my upper body. i got the back pains to prove it. my lifestyle is too sedentry. i can make all the excuses i want about the gym but at the end of the day, i need to work on losing this weight.
i don`t feel comfortable with it. i need to do something about it for me. not for the fuckwits that are quick to point out how much weight i`ve put on since they`ve seen me last [if you were a friend you`d see me on a regular basis], always quick with suggestion with what i should do. fucking idiots. do i care what you think? no [well maybe a little if it irritates me this much]
i`m not particularly thin skinned but people that don`t know me, harping about my fucking weight and how i dress piss me to fuck off. i dress how i please because i can. i can work whatever i`m wearing. from dirty jeans, to a suit, to a skirt.
time for me to get to work.
