Dont read if you got responsibilities….

this space if for chillers….people who cant at all get through one sentence with out spell check. people who wont be bothered to think through their own mind, people who just don’t give a damn whether the white sock on the left leg matches the yellow one on the right….

 

God I have become one of those people who spends more than they have….especially when they know they have nothing. I make trips that I cannot afford, I live in places I cannot afford, I am girl amassing debt after debt after debt… am soon declaring myself bankrupt, not like i ever had any bank accounts.

Am the kind of person who cannot handle extreme emotional turns…big highs, and low lows in a space of 46 hours…not my thing. I dont know how to do it. Yet, working in the place that i do, that is the first test one must pass….well, I am retaking the class. But then again, by the time I get used to it I will be owing money to the world bank. My sort of therapies are sinking me under. 

Living in Treviso means that every time I go out on a shopping therapy i spend my one month’s allowance in things like, well, a pair of under wear and a jacket….I need more for the shoes, – Never mind that i shop in the “moderately priced store(s)”.

I went online yesterday, after having one of those small self-chats “I cant do this”, I cant take this on. Not now”, So anyway, I went online to check flights to Bristol. I have an open invite…whenever your world is crashing phoebe, find Easy Jet…(well, its not exactly like that, but still).

flight money aside; I carry an African passport that is not a South African passport, which means, that with the over twenty people i live and work with, am the only person who needs a visa for every little trip outside of the EU that i am to make.

Its annoying, its expensive, its time consuming….I have no mind space for any of those. Especially when am trying to escape.

okay…I have to pack up and get the bus now. I have to work tomorrow. Alex’s farewell Party is tonight….this is another thing i can’t get used to; Saying goodbye. Its always some sort of death. 

ps; this is what I have resorted to doing for fun lately (this is the free therapy am trying to take on)! Thanks Jqln

Bouno Weekend

August 2008 Images…

 

 

I got sun burned on this day. Terrible sting. It doesn't show, with my dark skin, still it burns terribly.

I love them both deeply. Differently. Charlotte (Lottie) and Scott

 

 

My redpepper moment; I walked on along this street, hoping to find another- called Kandhar

 

 

 

It did feel like seeing his sketches on a huge wall

 

To Park Guell

 

 

 

Gaudi -(CBD)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaudi's workspace/drawing table, inside the Sagrada Famalia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entanda ya Gaudi; he would carry his lunch to work...in that bag-cloth

 

 

Dali's Museum. About two hours out of Barcelona ....we were staying in a town nearby (Calella- Pure Heaven) when we visited the musuem...so we had the time to go visit his (Dali's) summer house too, another one hour or so away from the museum. Dali's summer house very revealing of Dali/the detail in his work. He used to go their for his summers as a little boy (it was his family's) and it is where he started painting; it is a very surreal location. It makes absolute sense, that Dali would become the kind of painter he was....oh well let me post one foto from there....

 

 

Buoy; Barcelona Marina

 Dali’s Summer house (rooftop)

The location below is almost all that  neighbors Dali’s house

OMYGOD

The United States of America ’s president is black.

WOW!

am sorry, it just sank in….

fuck…some where in the white man’s world, there is a country with a black president.

wow.

Barcelona

the best city the in the entire world! 

In all  its mighty vastness this world is, Barcelona claims its place at the very peak; the very best city this world has got to show for itself; GAUDI.PICASSO.DALI. BEACH BUSKERS. MACBA SKATERS.  IN-IN TOURISTS. STREET ART/STREET PERFORMERS. THE RAMBLERS; seriously, just ask for it, and you will have it…if you have to go as far as ask for it anyway.

The seedy alleys complete with women(of african descent the ones i saw) grabbing one another in places that should attract attention, men in cheap summer jackets almost ‘accidently’ rumming into you to whisper loudly “Hashish”…

The entire city could just be those alleys; with people and people and people squeezing through, in all of the world’s shades, colors and languages……alleys that grow into streets which grow into private spaces that further grow into more streets that are continually exploding with a mass of people coming in  wheeling those little  suitcases, walking about talking loudly, naked girls lying round,  walking across from you, you can see their brests giggle.

“Barcelona is like: if Paris went ABSOLUTELY NUTS!”, Lottie told me  the first night she came in.

Barcelona is the place in where I fell in love….

I was tired everyday, stressed about money everyday, confused about my almost-relationship, still trying to  figure out what it is excatly I was doing in an art school which is not even a school to begin with. Barcelona was the  living, walking, talking chaos going on inside my head right then, in that extreme summer heat……..my life inside outside.

I have tried to forget Barcelona. I have worked on it…and it worked. The noises on streets fled from head, the stale rusty smells faded away, hesitantly, but they did…All the street names and shops eched in my head somehow vanished, i forgot the laughs, the tears, the days I just wanted to pack up and leave but couldn’t because I really didnt want to pack up and leave…….I forgot all the musuems and the bookshops…..AMAZING BOOKSHOPS, great exhibitions- to which i went everyday.

 I forgot about my first encounter with Picasso. The man i had heard so much about, but knew very little…and there I was little phoebe from kakoba mbarara walking about in his town, seating and settling in the places and spaces  he used to call home, wandering all over in his ”real” musuem and talking about him and his wives/mistresses like we’d been long time buddies…i forgot about that wtf-am-i-doing-here  feeling totaly.

I never got over the fact there wasn’t any grass in barcelona. A true beach city. Not one single patch of grass. This one time, i made a project of this, “Go Find Grass”. I thought, and cleverly too, that searching for a park would be the best chance of finding any; yes there were parks, with a few ‘decorative’ trees, but the ground was concrete. Cement. No grass.

I guess as is obvious, i didnt forget Barcelona.i havent. I can not. I let my mind absorb it, soak in it while flip-teasing in my attempts to forget….I remember every street corner. Every conversation. Every reactions. And with out the romantiscim.  I remember the heat, the sweat, tired, hungry, broke days….the shoping, oh the shopping. The Exhbitions…Amazing Exhibitions, the musuems…and the falling in love………

view of the city from Park Guell

That is (my) last summer.

My first summer

My first real encounter with Europe

oh poor baby...too many bags, too many stores?

Procrastinating is such a long word I need all day

this is what i do on my first day at work, a week  and two days after everyone else gt here, but  especially when there is a no nonsense 14days deadline of a work in a discpline a have zilch idea about; I need to read afew Baz Luhrmann’s; How to get it done- copy and paste but as a shameful mess …

well, back to things that matter right now, like my head thinks its night time; 

These guys need a typographer a hell lot more than i can’t think of any other in a worse- or even close- situation 

plus i know we are a MTV, yappie, wrap bubblegum, skim-thru generation, but seriously, zooming into words and everything else on the webpage only looks ridiculous and wont get anybody to read- an objective here, I assume—-they are likely to push me to dyslexia.. a place i visit quite frequently .

Did I mention the colors on said website?; ekya black, yellow, red mukiitute too far bagundi.

 then there is this page on there 

Photo editors needed over there 

Ps: whats Uganda love and sex? -(copywriter needed too)

 

Stopwriting.com is real website…

But this when you know that you need to stop writing for rio.

 

Ps: Ps: with no relation to the above—in relation with continued love i hold—read Arundhati Roy- I could  get deep into things and explain; read her work I mean, not her person…well, do whatever you like, whoever You are.

. Colors is searching for young (25  and younger) researchers, Another search is on for contributers for Colors-Online (website under construction), this one is without age limit (am sure seasoned writers, illustrators, photographers and all the arts that matter).

I wish I was being paid for this Kalango, but for some reason, not one single person from Africa-i have been alerted- sends their applications/portfolio to Colors or Fabrica… So this is me encouranging.

yea am bad at it, and thats why i don’t work in the PR or advertising office

www. fabrica.it

http://www.fabrica.it/projects/colors-magazine

http://www.fabrica.it/people

http://www.fabrica.it/apply

http://2005to2007.fabrica.it/blog/

..and you know what, ebindi mubyerondele, ah. 

Now the important kalango:::::Fixer- translator, location scout (helping with that) is needed for this fantastic documentary to be shot some place in Rwanda; storyline… a love story between this 17year old hutu girl and 21 year old Tutsi boy- and its forbidden to refer to them as hutu or tutsi, or those people… (Okay—thats not the real story, but i wish it were coz I can use a good old, shakespeare type   tough love story to work with)

back to the point, fixer from rwanda who speaks  english, french and kinyarwanda, and is available during the months of March and April….

Yes they will be paid and credited.

v – -

BazL is a fraud

I might open a whole new blog called Baz of Australia (the film) is a fraud. Or maybe i will simply, day after day, break it down, especially for myself on here, that Baz Luhrmann is a fraud…a fake ….a man who’s been giving me sleepless nights and interrupt my long abstinance worries very so often lately……

am in singapore yet again. and am so not looking to going home for what awaits me is crazy loveless chaos……..am in singapore daydreaming of the koalas, salty water in my eyes,  the pink skies and purple sunsets…….

I cannot cry. I am broken past the pot of tears. I am far gone to a place where I can’t find my heart, even when it thumps ridiculously out of pace. I am in a place where all souls float around mindless of themselves or anything else around them. A place that almost looks like Singapore.

I loved DownUnder….I will soon reconnect.

ps: Australia is possibly the worst pretend-artistic piece of work (advertisment.advertisment) of my time…….. 

I did flirt with it; found it extremely cheesy that i loved it…..then I saw real film from where it was ripped…..eeih Baz, seriously; with all that funding???????

anyway. i will have a real Baz is a fraud……..just not tonight. tonight i need to…i need to go and get lost within myself.;

I Will Sing you To me Mr. Boss

Down Under. A love lives. A horizon soo expanse it covers the world’s end. browns whites and blues….

A new year, a new you; sijuwii-nini; the world is still the same very little has changed. One name celebrities- for i don’t know why- still make the news, people continue to rum bullets into one another, there is a wine tasting here, a wedding over there, a Sangoma asking for Talcom Powder, Rum and some pieces of white fabric in a gibberish only his dog-bones can understand

A genuine Sangamo, pissed off into magic anger for he has no money—a thing he wishes his magic could make varnis (ME TOO)— to move to the city and actually do what he is meant to do, to prevent his sacred heritage from  what has become it today, a shame…to stop the psuedo city boy chemists from unashamedly abusing a respectable religion/hospital/culture/therapy……… a birthright

Hussein lives on as the name tag of a terrorist. A terrorist continues to be brown skin complexion, bearded —or with a scarf, black hair brown eyes….aka anyone not caucasian. An african state passport is as good as walking to a missionary school on foot; with little or no food and no water and nothing to protect your feet from the red hot earth and piercing stone….

Fascists still to drink red wine in the hope that by the time they are thru with one bottle a thousand communists will be dead along with the colors of the people of the world….even when they would, in a pretend drunken state, want to mate with the women of a people they secretly persecute…

Arudhati Roy is the queen of the world: Her Majesty Miss Roy, we refer to her as (the only flicker of light..so far)

I had something positive to say about president Mugambe and the unknown president of South Africa (separately)…obviously its swooshed out

There is a girl celebrating her sweet 16th birthday in the glory of tantrums and mom, I asked for Eminem not Cashe Tings…

JK Rowling still is the only one reaping the most out of letters, words and sentences….not that i care

The seasons come and go….Its another year, the seventh year, of Australia’s long drought…the vineyards flourish, farmers can’t live off of their land anymore….this is not researched info….

Tumwi rocks and I recently caught myself fantasing about her having: creating, leading, and running,  her own paper…News paper…sometimes am a romantic

And i still  hate that i love the dying communist…..for what use is a dying man to an almost broken spirit???

Triple questionmarking (???) still works for the one reason that everything else unexplainable still do

Uganda, the country, has one solo museum ONE….that i know of…..in which nothing new; artistic, historical or of any significance has been added since i unlearned to write and comprehend….that i know of

A girl  is lying on the floor at 3.30 am typing this withoutasense blog post because, as usual she can’t find that which they call sleep………

It is a new year and very little has changed but my age in March……..

May  you Bump, blunder and happily stagger through yet another one.

XXXXXXX

Darwin’s NightMare

-no voice over or expert narratings;

-little dialogues

-intelligent interviews, great quotes…intentionally stupid questions

-poetry in technique

-persistence on the one question to different individuals interviewed; in a by-the way sort of way

-taking time to know the subjects, understand them well enough  to respect their different individual situations, and to deal with it as one would, bathing their dead child….

-the art of visual story telling…..

-interaction with the film’s audience. respecting his audience

-skeleton crew….

himself for ours:

fake-smiles

touristy

mainstream arty- use a languange they all understand in but in the  way you understand it (TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE- i want to know, i ask you. you tell me….it is my story. you are telling me…you are doing me a service. you can do it in a way you think i will like it….or you can do it in the best way you know how to, and serve it to me…your purpose is to do….not to please. the process is important….

And Am Brainstorming/studing on my blog. Thats it. almost 4am…time to crawl next to the uneven breaths that deep some purpose into this new year….Them people call it 2009. I call it 25!!!!!