Fixes
No people with weird noses left. No one with sunken eyes. No gnome-like stranger at the railway station. With crooked noses getting fixed, face-lifts and cheek contouring being done in the lunch break hour, everyone is looking 'good'. Everyone is looking the same. There is something not right here. Weirdos look good. I would never have my chipped tooth fixed. I like it. Its me. Its me dancing naked in a bathroom to imagined songs. It me falling on my face, cutting my lip and chipping my tooth while red red blood makes a pool on the white marble floor. Scarred knees. Its not that great in a lil dress. But its me! The dress is me and so are the knees. I like people on benches to scare children. I like celebrities that look different. OK, but then there is Barbara Streisand too. I guess I am not being fair. But there is still something wrong there.
God & the City
If I were a city-God or a city-ringmaster or simply a have-it-my-way entertainer, what would I plan for people looking for fun? Maybe
SUNDAY
Puppet-show
The best death scenes by puppets
MONDAY
Play
A modern day Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The main character can be a girl who goes to college in the day time. She walks down Gerrard Street and Dundas to reach Ryerson. Her furry wuzzy hoodie is on and she takes quick steps in her flat-sole boots, attends college and returns to pizza and tv. Each day at 10 p.m she decides to finish emergency homework, due the next day. But sometimes, at night, she undergoes a change and is suddenly not scared to step out. This time her hoodie is pulled way down over her face to hide the madness in her eyes. This madness would finally erupt somewhere else that night - in the park, near a dumpster or in front of a closed shop shutter. She walks into night parties and nocturnal bars sometimes. She crosses the crack addicts and prostitutes showing off butt cheeks. The next morning, you read the newspaper and see - Here I send the newspaper boys out in the audience. Young boys with berets. They hand out newspapers fast and quick. You read the headline. You see what happened last night and you can understand what that girl on stage is. That college-girl blinking innocently is a MONNSSTAARRRHH..Ahh.. what a lovely time I will spend imagining the worst she could do - the ultimate act of gore - a hideous sin.
TUESDAY
History House - 3 D exhibition
The next place for people to visit would be a house where history whispers.
A humourless TV watcher in Canada
I have to admit, days pass fruitlessly with me staring at the TV and I have now absorbed the Canadian TV content. So much so, that anything new on TV looks like a repetition.
Oprah with all kinds of oddities - families where the father or husband changed into a woman. Dr.Phil with a Hobo who abandoned his family. The Hobo meets his daughter on TV after 17 years to face a lot of resentment from her. Child prodigies. Fighting newlyweds who try to solve their problems amidst hitting, pulling hair and sessions of talking. A tattoed one-armed guy talking to his ex-girlfriend who he left for a whore on the Jerry Springer show. A lot of talk shows where sympathy and sadism go hand in hand. Montel discussing infidelity in marriages and talking to people from www.ashleymadison.com - a website that offers romantic options to people who want to look outside their marriages. High Drama. After sometime you get immune to untimely marriages and pregnancies, weird occupations, anomolous families and magic grass mowers.
Then there is late night TV with young girls strutting their stuff and asking you to call on certain phone numbers to 'make new friends'. It's always girls. There is never a guy asking you to call up. One of the girls looked like a female version of Jerry Seinfeld
One of the times you dont feel like backspacing…
Sell your soiled soul to Lucifer and if it is not stained enough, he'll make sure he does it for you. The soul is bothersome, a boring thing to have. It snips your being in half. No man is a drag queen, no woman a callous lover with the soul attached, the tag of good, the tag of minimum decency. Throw it to the winds once - caution, controlled fun. Stop driving just fast - fast enough for thrill, slow enough to not die. Die. And die again. And each time live again. reinvent. there is no soul, no fixed you to preserve and protect. so each time it is ReInvEnt. Jekyll and Hyde. Faustus. Van Gogh. Later, sit with your head in your hands. mope. cry. despair. let your Mamma be happy. She warned you. She said "I told you so". And now you are in disrepair, torn and bruised and defeated. All that adrenalin rush and foolishness lead nowhere. Stronger people, cogs in the wheel are living life Kingsize now. Applaud the erstwhile bores. ANd then jump up, ReinVent. Be an imposter. Step on the accelerator. Go to Studio 54. Be a Lautrec if you like. The deafening roar of feeling Supreme. the blinding visions of being invincible, swirling, swimming around the world before it finishes one rotation. Sell it all. Believe in gypsies. kick them to death when they look at eggshells and call your life crap. Believe that a meteor will fall over you - a streak of divine shooting light - and will turn you into a Superman. Live in soap suds, Dreams and air light souffles. Step out from a movie festival, from a hall of darkness and 3 hours of losing yourself in a drama, into the harsh afternoon light. Harsh and white with zipping autos, oily and indifferent cigarette vendors leching at passing girls. Harsh light, so white, so bright. From spacious darkness to elevating whiteness. Don't bang into anything, just pick your way home. Or to Subhash.
Am I reaching you ?…
(Scream by Edvard Munch)
Sometimes you don't recognise your friends
You look at them harder and longer, recalling them..
You look through narrow slits as if they were headlights
You know they don't know, they have no idea
The general chatter, some talk is going on and they don't know the distance
Laughter, joke, chuckle, pause, chatter
You go out for a breath of fresh air
You have to carry yourself
You feel like you are finally in touch with reality
Out of yourself
Looking aerially at this Malvika Jain with whom you have to spend the rest of her life
So stuck in one person
Balloonface, slow motion, inverse colour, falling forwards flat on the face, Looped action, Never ever really falling and getting there with face on the table
I must write this down, record this reality
I grasp pencil and paper and write in an ugly scrawl
I remember people use pens and pencils to write
They write on paper
The human race had achieved this feat - this art of writing
Since quite some time
The magnitude of the accomplishment dawns upon me
I also remember that people laugh and people cry, a whole range of emotions
What is laughing and what is crying, why is it done, I cant figure out as hard as I try
This is so real and so scary and such a zap
So many thoughts running in my head, running ahead till they stumble, fall over each other, catapult and leap over each other's head to make it first
Which ones are reaching my mouth, forming words and getting spoken..
Which ones are only thoughts?
Of all the millions of thoughts which are words, which are in my head I have no idea
Its scary to wonder how much of my mental state is revealed and what is in me
What thoughts of mine do my friends know?
Am I expressive to them right now, am I being bold and insane or am I dropping pearls of wisdom
We so often continue to act according to the impression we are making
No reference point for my being in company when I don't know what i am to them
They look puzzled, they are prodding me
Maybe in all this deafening rush of thoughts nothing was spoken
I was silent all along
I want to speak
I want to say something
Having spoken I cant understand whether I just spoke or was that just a loud thought in my head
I feel stifled with thoughts
I want to speak
I want to get back in touch with that substance of yesterday and all the years before
I am out there in reality and can't contact Malvika Jain or the medium she uses for communication
I am too much out there, flung far away
They still shake me and ask me to say something
Later I discover that I was actually speaking and the people around me were just playing with my mind. Dummbfucks!