In honor of the posthumous release of Michael Jackson's Concert footage I have uploaded video and a picture saluting (one of) my heroes. Last night I discovered i was wearing an MJ-esque ensemble (white t-shirt/ black leggings) all i had left to do was grab my fedora (yes i own a man's fedora) and a glove. My friend snapped the pic et voila! Unfortunately i had no sequined gloves (who does?) I didn't even have a white glove. My brown kidskin leather was a fine stand in though. It would have been cooler if i had some white tape around my fingers though.
And the piece de resistance? Some video of me dancing to off the wall. Its very short, and not all that sweet, but it was the least i could do for the king.
Other than see the film.
P.S. sorry for the film quality... but its just as well. If rhythm is a dancer, then i'm a parapalegic. Yikes! You'd never guess i've been taking dance lessons for years! I suck at freestyle! This is a horrible development. That's why you shouldn't watch yourself on film. :-(
P.P.S. this video happened early this morning, as i woke up way early and had nothing better to do. I promise it will never happen again!
So last week i was on a much needed (dare i say, deserved?) holiday. I'll say this -- it isn't until you can release the tension that you realize just how highly wound you are. I know i thought i was handling the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune quite dandily. But without having to deal with my everyday stressors, i felt as if the rock of gibraltar were lifted off my back. And i didn't even know it was there in the first place. If there were such things as harmonic oscillators for the spirit/mind - i know mine would have read off the charts. I was like a tightly compressed coil. The first day of my vacation i slept the best sleep i've had in months! Woke up chipper and what not. lol. Unfortunately vacations don't last forever, so here i am -- back to life, back to reality.
And hey, what's with the rain?
Anyway, now that i'm back i figured i may as well tend to my very neglected blog. I don't have much to say, but that emo a$$ entry at the top of my page was bugging me. All naked and stuff. At my privy without even some fig leaves to obscure my dishabille! My goodies, my goodies, not my goodies! I experienced cognitive dissonance every time i saw the title. Nah.. i had to update. Someone new may stumble on this blog(yeah right. I think i've lost every reader), and think i have actual feelings! That i hurt! And even worse... that i care!
So what's new with me?
-I've decided i'm going to get serious and start penning my memoirs. As i was sitting on the beach, staring blankly at the horizon while absentmindedly drinking my vichy, I realized that my insanely boring, pedantic existence needs to be in print. No, seriously. Everyone needs to know how the sunlight dappled through the passing stratus clouds and caressed my metatarsals. And how as the day progressed, its heated fingers moved to my shin, and in a fit of daring moved up to the knee. I had to halt it from reaching my femur, because well, that's just fresh.
As i scrunched the densely packed sand in my right hand in order to form a crude sphere to throw at my friend's head, it dawned on me that everything i've experienced should be recorded for posterity. Like my so called life... in book form. And highly melanated. I mean, yeah, my stuff is rote, but its real! And honestly, who can tell my story better than I? (yes yes i know, who said anyone is even remotely interested in my story? I did. Now shut it.) Besides, now more than ever there is a market for the mundane. Look at what people are watching: The office, Curb your enthusiasm, thirty rock... Its practically a no brainer.
I've even come up with a working title:
"Moot: the chronicles of a woman always on the cusp."
It'll be a humorous retelling of all my life's mishaps, and how i finally found freedom when i stopped trying so hard, -- because, in the end, its all for naught anyway. I know, i know the theme reeks of absurdism with a piquant nihilistic base note, but I assure you that *i* don't have such a bleak outlook. Camus this is not. :-)
-I'm flexing my musical muscle again. I think i've mentioned this before but in case you didn't know, I took flute all through out elementary and HS. After failed attempts with trumpet and piano, flute was the only thing that stuck. However instead of picking up old faithful, i'm going in an entirely different direction and i'm learning how to play the upright bass. Yes. the big fiddle. An instrument i have always wanted to learn but for weirdo/lame reasons, i shied away from taking. My mom actually wanted me to learn it or Cello. But noooo. So now that i'm old as dirt, with a brain functioning at half mast, i'm attempting this feat of strength. I'm comin for you Esperanza! (albeit with creaky knees.)
Stay tuned for updates :-)
-I've accepted that i am boho. This is not easy for me, for even as fight for the right to label others... i hate being labeled myself.(there's a dichotomy there somewhere). I've fought against boho stamp for years... but i became resigned to my fate when on this recent holiday, over 700 miles from home, i was overjoyed because i found a natural shop that sold black soap(a MUST if you have dry sensitive skin) shea butter, and coconut oil(organic extra virgin and cold pressed). I was teased mercilessly because every morning i awakened and drank my elixir (apple cider vinegar, water and blackstrap molasses) and suggested for the days we cooked that we try, um whole wheat pasta and brown rice. I always thought i did these things for health, or at least claimed i did... but maybe there's a more sinister reason behind it. LOL. Not to mention... in the not too distant past, i was a regular at a coffee shop (i even eulogized it) brushing elbows with people who, without any sense of irony, use words like hotep and king in everyday speech. I thought i escaped their patchouli scented tentacles... but alas. It did indeed rub off. Bohoes are like phages! getting into my DNA and what not. Replicating on the low.
I will say i'm more of a boho/prep hybrid. After all, i still spell Africa with a C. I do love my flowy dresses and natural hair(um my hair has been the bomb lately but i'll spare yall that) sterling silver and semi precious stones... but i love my low ponytails, loafers, button downs and popped collars too. Take that take that! But wait... i also wear buddy holly glasses and will occasionally sport a two finger ring. Does this mean i'm a hipster too?? FOCK!
Slum Village (can't be boho and not love the EssVee)
Selfish
Climax (sexy beat...i mean, yeah. Who has an instrumental? )
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