My way.... Or the highway?

So what do you do when life seems to be coming at you too fast?
Do you raise your arms in hopeless defense… surrender; Or do you raise your puny fists…. clenched in defiance. Do you try to duck… and hope and pray, that you don’t stumble and fall; Do you turn and run… as fast as you can, not daring to look back, lest you find that it’s right at your heels, and you about to be overran….. Or do you just stand there, eyes closed, gritting your teeth as you try to brace your body, looking to take it like a man…..

Me I say fuck the highway... am doing it my way

Candidly refreshing

I always wondered why people in New-England were so cold and impersonal.... figured it must be something to do with the cold winters. Now I think I know the truth. Its because they are not happy.

Nah.. I shouldn't say that. Perhaps they are happy in their own peculiar way. What I should say is that they have not known true joy. That joy that you can only find in the en(joy)ment of a good ripe mango.

I sat outside in the muggy heat at lunch today; armed with a knife, a bowl and a bottle of ice-cold water. I had me a medium sized mango.... perfectly ripened, which I proceeded to carve up expertly with the little pairing knife I had.

You should have seen the curious ogling I got from all around me as I proceeded to indulge myself in what I am finding out is a peculiarly 'third world' pleasure.... Three ladies (not together) actually stopped and voiced what all the rest must have been wondering.

'OMG Kei, what in the world are you eating?'

Now, in all honesty, if the closest you've come to having a tropical fruit is a pinacolada at your local watering joint, then you truly are missing out on some of life's greatest pleasures. That ten or so minutes gave me a refreshing satisfaction that can only be rivalled by similar enjoyment of equally firm and succulent mango shaped breasts of a young woman.

Ok... Maybe I shouldn't have gone there...

"What have you done lately?"

That was the in-your-face ending question in 'Wanted'; that new movie with Angelina Hottie Jolie and Morgan Freeman. I happened to watch it twice (the things we do for love) on that July 4th weekend... I'm counting Thursday night as part of that Oh so long weekend.

So what have I done lately?

Mmhmmm! Well, I have not shot anyone down in cold blood.... but I did shoot somebody's advances down coldly, though I doubt that it would count as the same thing.

I've half interviewed for a new job.... I know, its a really weird story.

I've learnt how to and DJ-ed for a crowd of over a hundred peeps - before the popos... literally rained on our par(ty)ade.

I've asked two girls out and been coldly 'shot down'..... Now that I think about it... it is the same thing, if not worse than being shot in cold blood.

But mostly I have chilled... yeah, I know that is literally not doing anything.... My point exactly. I have learnt how to chill and do nothing and how to avoid getting exhausted doing it:)

What have you done lately?

Book-Signing-At-Some-Point-In-The-Year-2010

Scree ...eech! The Limo abruptly pulls into the allotted space outside the bookstore. It's an 07 Cadillac Escalade... long and old in this day. The guy that I rented it from said it was the only one he had available... the pompous ass he was. Like I hadn't seen the fleet of brand new S-Class Mercs at the back... and he had the nerve to point out that I did not have enough clout....

Ati..... "its not that we don't think you'll be good for it.... blah blah blah!"

The nerve. Did he not know who I was... Acha tu! He'll see.

"Stay for a minute please" I yell at the driver.

I ignore the look of disdain he throws my way and survey the throng..... waiting outside. Its not what I'd pictured, in my dreams... As a matter of fact the reality of stardom is really not living up to what I'd envisioned. But then again, some might argue I was not a star...

One has to be famous, they'd say.

There is a few people milling about... mostly middle-aged mothers. No teenage groupies clamoring for a piece of the K........ and even worse, no photo-journalists. There can be no fame without the press...... Oh man! Perhaps I should have listened to the vultures and gotten me a publicist.

I guess I have not arrived yet. There is a short line through the door. The line is quiet... settled...... patient even. A patience borne of a lifetime of raising children and waiting for working husbands. It hardly stirs when the over-sized limo pulls up... I seriously doubt it will budge when I get out... I close my eyes and replay that dream...

"A large crowd followed and pressed around him. Grabbing at him and chanting his name , if only to get but a touch of his fame..."

"Ahem!" The driver's impatience snaps me out of my reverie... He really needs to be put in his place.

I adjust my shirt and put on my scratched Ray-Bans..... before stepping out. I smile my way through the curious ogling and am halfway to the door before a fast talking Ms. Chandler grabs me by my elbow .

Her name is just about the only thing I get out of her quick introduction as she walks me through the door and leads me to a table where the line begins. And there on the plain table-clothe..... standing out like the proverbial sore thumb, is the reason am here.

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I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself, did I? How lacking in manners. Well... If you've been reading my blog all this years, you don't need an introduction.... you probably know me better than I know myself.

If you haven't been? Well, you soon will... just tune in to Oprah these next couple of months... It's yet to be confirmed, but I have it from the grapevine... my book is being considered. Yap.... Rumor has it that she finally got a hold of one of the fifty copies I mailed her personally... That's right, my mother always said persistence was my key, that and the ability to tell tales...

So yes... I am a writer. Wannabe writer I should say. A famous wannabe writer: Or is it a wannabe-famous writer? Well, it don't matter really. Writing, I've found, doesn't make you a writer. Oprah and the New York Times do.

Is this the Summer season of my life?

My nights are getting shorter..... my days longer and my dreams weirder!
Three mornings now, I have woken up from dreams where my last thought has been.... "Why the hell am I dreaming with my workmates?"... only to find that it's barely 6 A.M. And that after having gone to sleep less than five hours before. And no, Crystal, this has not been after drinking the prev night.