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it’s midevening i’m sitting around the house by myself in darkness, well not complete darkness, the light from the monitors is enough, i can touch type… i’m looking for some kind of outlet to lash out.

the main phone line has been disconnected (well i can receive calls, but i can’t make any) because i didn’t pay the bill, well that’s obvious, what did i expect. well i expected, that i did a job and would have been fucking paid. this is the fucking annual report project. what is pissing me off even more, is the attitude of the fucking woman. “well i haven’t been paid, i don’t have any money.”


i spent 4 days and as many nights, quite a few of them on very little sleep to finish the job, she didn’t check the job on the press and it printed like shit and now i have to be suffering? and the only reason i haven’t tore into her ass as i rightly deserve to, is because she’s a friend of mine’s wife.


i am talented, skilled, i should not have to be scrambling to make ends meet in this fucking godforsaken excuse of a country. all kinds of idiots and morons with not a lick of talent are out there making money hand over fist. can i? NO! i’m difficult to work with! why? because i don’t put up with shit.

i think i’m really angry at myself, because i broke the fucking rule. half upfront. don’t deliver finished artwork with out a cheque in hand. so here i am 2 weeks later, still not paid. and what pisses me off even more this is the norm here. unprofessional fucks.

my eye is twiching, that’s never a good sign. i haven’t been this angry in a long, long time, i’m grateful that i’m home on my own. actually you know what, i’m going to call and demand my money now, let’s see how that goes…

i’ll be back later.

hot and sticky

May 30, 2003 — Leave a comment

it’s been raining on and off all day but it hasn’t done anything for the temperature. i frolicked in the rain a little earlier, which was fun, now i’m sitting in front of a fan, while i try to find some degree of inspiration for this logo… still no dice.

so i come here to my daily addiction, i’m missing vic, but i know she’s safe and with the phone bill i already have for the month, i’ll have to sell one of the children pretty soon. k just dropped the tickets for tonight and i’m pretty exicted about the party, i usually don’t get this excited about going out, but tonight feels good or am i just salivating over the prospect of more work on my tattoo tomorrow. i keep looking at the picture of the work done so far and realise all the pain, the itching is going to be worth it.

the annual report project is back like a bad rash, apparently it printed like shit, the colour was off and guess what…
i’m getting blamed. when i signed on for the project, i was told it was a mouse jockey job, i said ok, cause i needed the money. why am i being taken to task because the person who actually took the job:

1. didn’t check the colour swatch (as i instructed) against the stock
2. never checked the job on the press (now how obvious is that)

which brings me to how is this my fault? i  produced the job, didn’t pick the printer or the stock and gave fairly striahgforward instuctions. wait, i took one thing for granted… they knew what they were doing. oh dear, silly me. i asked to see a copy of the report to see what can be done at this stage, not because i care, but because the sooner it’s presentable and approved by the people who sign the chqs, the sooner i get paid.

i still haven’t been able to get in contact with my ride for tonight which is a little worrying not because i can’t get there on my own, but i’d rather not have to worry about it.

i’m off to be all girly in the interim and plan what i’m wearing and decide if to wash my hair or not. i have a 2 hour window before my hair will not dry.


today is indian arrival day in trinidad, although i actually call it ‘arrival day’ for all the pretenious, gauche, nouveau riche, skimming, scheming, pilfering audi/bmw/mecredes/quarter million minimum imported car of choice (exchange rate is $6TT= $1US, you do the math), politicians, ex-politicians, businessmen, no talent hacks, asslicking corporate climbers, back-squeezing cheapass-pearls before swine-clients… 

you have ‘arrived’ and this is your day.

now that i’ve gotten that out of the way, here is our guest commentary, all the way from brighton:

Indian Arrival Day is today. Wow, shouldn’t that be a mega-celebration, a smorgasbord of cultural celebration?
I wish for one Arrival Day someone will have the bright idea of bringing real live Indians to collaborate with the Indians in Trinidad so that they would figure out that their concept of Indian-ness is archaic and totally irrelevant. Ditto African Emancipation Day.
My biggest beef is that on Emancipation Day, the winner always seems to be the Syrians because of the brisk trade they do in mock-African material.
Amazingly, if most Indians stepped into Delhi, they would feel as Indian as I would. It’s like the way you feel when you meet an African, or to be more specific, a Nigerian and they go on spouting some of the most narrow-minded stuff and you instantly realise that the only thing you guys share in common is the high tolerance for sunshine.

thank you franka. (the views expressed are those of the author and totally supported by me.)

in other news, vic is almost safely at her destination, and seems in good spirits. i seem to be as well, i’ve got the house to myself and i’m getting ready to deal with a logo design job, that has been lurking for far too long. then tonight, it’s party time. but fear not, i’ll be back before then.