I cannot breath......

If life were fair, then I would not have seen the bullet wound on my younger brother's side resembling, Christ's on that fateful day. Or the ominous tale of a grotesque scar left by a  surgeon's knife as it trailed from stirnum to pelvis. I would not have seen his emaciated torso, evidence of new found religiosity or self imposed judgement. It was hard to see a mind so ravaged by life's cruelty that it made me understand how one succumbs to the hypocrisies of the likes of David “Moses” Berg,  W. D. Fard, Charles Taze Russell _at the promise of security and cleansing of a soiled soul. A mind empty of  memories of juvenile mirth but overcrowded with those of teenage deliquincy.
I believe even more now that it is true, having expectations of those to whom we are born is to volunteer for murder most foul. The cruelest kind where time seems to stand still, forever waiting for you to take your last breath saying: "I have had enough".

My soul is guttered. I cannot breath. 

Neil Gaiman Lost a Friend _ A sad tale

I got this from Neil Gaiman's blog and it is so beautifully written I was mush by the time i finished:

Being Alive. Mostly about Diana.

I'm in the UK right now, in the middle of nowhere, working on Monkey, about to go offline for a few days.

She's been my friend since about 1985, but I was a fan of hers since I read Charmed Life in about 1978, aged 18. I've loved being her friend, and I'm pretty sure she loved being my friend. She was the funniest, wisest, fiercest, sharpest person I've known, a witchy and wonderful woman, intensely practical, filled with opinions, who wrote the best books about magic, who wrote the finest and most perceptive letters, who hated the telephone but would still talk to me on it if I called, albeit, always, nervously, as if she expected the phone she was holding to explode.


I came over to do three things: to give the BBC a day to promote Episode Four of the next season of Doctor Who, which I have written; to see Hilary Bevan Jones, a wonderful producer with whom I've been working for years, about a couple of things; and to see Diana Wynne Jones.

Thursday I was interviewed about Doctor Who all day. Mostly the interviews would go like this:

Them: "So, can you tell us the title of the episode?" Me: "No."

It was a fun but sometimes frustrating day.

She adopted me when I was a 24 year old writer for magazines of dubious respectability, and spent the next 25 years being proud of me as I made art that she liked (and, sometimes, I didn't. She'd tell me what she thought, and her opinions and criticism were brilliant and precise and honest, and if she said "Yee-ees. I thought you made a bit of a mess of that one," then I probably had, so when she really liked something it meant the world to me).

For more: More on this story

It feels like a day for poetry

I suddenly feel like starting a Sunday off with poetry bodes well for the day.

For the fun of it.
The Inchcape Rock by R. Southey
(Only took one stanza from it)
He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing,
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rovers mirth was wickedness.

And then something very appropriate for the season. I love this poem not only because I get so excited whenever I read the first lines, as I did in class so many years ago but because of the memories it conjures. I had the best year of my schooling career in matric at Brackenfell High School.


Ode to Autumn by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

And one of my top 10 favourites of course: 

 The Queen' by Pablo Neruda

I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.


When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.


And when you appear
All the rivers sound
In my body, bells
Shake the sky,
And a hymn fills the world.


Only you and I,
Only you and I, my love,
Listen to me.


- - - - - - - - 

Spectacular Stone Angels

I finally made it to the Zimbabwean Stone Angel Exhibition in Greenside, Johannesburg and it was spectacular. The theme is Woman: hence the exhibition being titled: Rock Angels. It's a celebration of women in Zimbabwean life, interpreting their influence and presence everyday life and spiritual belief as spirits are often said to manifest in the female form.
What this exhibition did for me was remind me just how much we, Africans undermine ourselves and our abilities. We have somehow bought into every other person's definition of who we are except our own. This is a painful reality to revisit. I am however encouraged by the interest that the Rwavhi Gallery has taken to bring to the fore this talent when even the neighbours to Zimbabwe's artists are oblivious of their existence.

I learnt that the sculptures are all handmade, you only have to look at just one them pieces to realise just how much work must go into making it, all that chipping away at the Serpentine rock until some semblance of shape starts to appear. What's so special about this process is that besides them using this rock that's only found in a few places including Southern Africa, once the stone carvers have sculpted the stones, they polish them by hand using wax polish to bring out the natural colour of the stone that we see.

As I walked through the garden, looking at these magnificent works of art, i found myself not really concerned with what each meant or represented but rather wondering if their creators see the worth of their work and get due credit for it in all the ways that count. I asked myself this because when I looked at the profiles, I did not see anyone with a distinguished or even average background. These are rural, very rural individuals whom God saw fit to bless with this unique gift, using one of natures hardest elements as a means of self expression.
Unfortunately I didn't have time to take down information about the sculptures and so I will try to name those I remember and  update them all at a later stage. I tried to put as much as possible in this gallery for your perusal but there are many more left out, in total there are 75 sculptures being exhibited.

In closing: My dream is that we all (particularly my fellow Africans) undertake to actively support African artists in anyway or form, particularly the sculptures, painters and writers. These I think are the most undermined forms of art in our continent. Where will our continent be without an awesome imagination. We will not be in a position to create a continent fit for the gods and goddesses that we are because we will not see it where it matters most, in our minds eye.

This one is called Gabrielle's Ladder and you note that the grey area has
not been polished and the shiny section had.

She's called Never Been Kissed........how cute

Loving the wolf

I can't imagine how long it would take to create this intricate hair pattern.
Look out for other such styles.

the dancer

Windswept

Surprise

Listening to my ancestors

Sharing secrets

Under my skin

Precious Gift

Humans in nature

Gabrielle's Ladder

Madonna and Child

Hugging a shark

Independent

I can't remember the sculptures name but this is the Gallery Owner: Carolyn

Fearless Fourteen by Janet Evanovich: A Book Club Review

Another book bites the dust, dum dum dum...(singing)

This time its the hilarious Janet Evanovich's Fearless Fourteen. It isn’t one of her earlier work but it certainly has its moments, I can’t wait to get hold of one of her firsts. I think this one is a romantic comedy come crime novel where no one really seems to know what they're doing excepts that they know they will catch somebody doing something at some point. Its got the the odd kiss, a bit of lust and stuff thrown in, with the occassional toe or two being chopped off for ransom and a sidekick that reminds me of Mo'Nique Imes. What I really loved about this book were the orgasmically delicious descriptions of the male characters and how much it made me laugh (ref. to pg 77 - 80)....one morning I was catching up on my reading over breakfast at Mug and Bean, I must have forgotten where i was because the next thing,  as I got to the middle of page 54 (hardcopy) I gave off one of my unrepentant belly busting laughs. I mean I could not stop. The tears where running down my face and everyone else I realised was having moment of silence. A perplexed and yet amused silence for most and I suspect an irritated silence for others.

This proved to only be the first of such moments, they are liberally spread throughout the book. I’ll be honest, it does have sections where it wonders off from its intensity but it is worth keeping on reading.

I recommend that if you need a bit more than a little laughter and regular smiles, you're suffering from high blood pressure, stress, heartache and/or a bout of the “not my sexy best” feeling _ this book could go a long way in reminding you just how healing laughter is. I do believe that people who laugh more are happier (with the exception of Jim Carrey of course) and this book helped remind me of that.

 Fearless Fourteen: Stephanie Plum_She’s a bond enforcement agent with more luck than talent, and she’s involved in this bank-robbery-gone-bad disaster from day one. Security expert Carlos Manoso, street name Ranger, has a job for Stephanie that will involve night work. Morelli has his own ideas regarding Stephanie’s evening activities.

I really like this lady, I think she's as hot as her Stephanie Plum character with her cute quirkiness. 

(Time Magazine interviews Janet Evanovich)

Where can you find Fearless Fourteen?
Well, for one its available freely on line  for your reading pleasure and if you're anything like me you'll want a hard-copy too and it is über affordable @ kalari.net _R73.95.




Happy reading

Elizabeth Taylor

There are people who you come to believe that by virtue of their charisma, beauty, intellegence, wealth or some other characteristics_ have transcended and gained immortality, separated from the weaknesses that plague humanity and that, as gods, they shall live forever. Elizabeth Taylor was one such person to me. Her beauty always seemed other worldly, even with age.
May this legendary beauty, find love, peace and more beauty in her birth into the next world..