Friends, Homes and other Stuff...

And here is the next little something for you, following on from Nappies, Vaginas and Walking Talking Johnny:

Lily arrived home to Matt and Fraser chilling on the couch. “Oh no,” she groaned under her breath as she hung up her coat and tidily placed her shoes on the rack. Fraser was a genuinely great bloke, a babe magnet and a great artist but unfortunately also a bit of a bum and had mastered the art of survival in the city with no money whatsoever too well. He really was a lovely guy but when he and Matt got together it was like the world around them disappeared and any appointment or to-do list went right out the window.
“Alright Fraser? How you doin’? Any news on the job front?” Lily muttered as she went about tidying the living room, teeth clenched.“Nah, not really… getting money for every job application though which is great, cos they don’t ever take me anyway!” Fraser laughed and his bright blue eyes creased up with enjoyment at the prospect of never having to work.“So what’s the plan in the long-run?” Lily probed further, ignoring Matt’s evil look.“Erm… Don’t know really. Got to do some washing I guess…” He stared down at his shirt, cross-eyed. Lily did wonder sometimes why it was that women threw themselves at him. Sure, he looked rugged, a bit like a man who had been out at sea too long with tanned hands and a friendly face; but his shirt said otherwise. His shirt said: man, what a night: what did I smoke and where did I sleep?!
“Oh, right: yeah, didn’t you want to do that last week already?” Lily fluffed a pillow somewhat manically, over and over again. The last time they had visited Fraser at home Lily didn’t know how to get through the living/bed-room in order to reach the balcony. It wasn’t that she was obsessed with cleanliness or obsessive compulsive about tidying. On the contrary, Matt and Lily lived in a cute little apartment in their own little creative chaos. There were postcards, memorabilia, hand-drawn sketches, baby photos, holiday photos and all sorts glued to the wall, lined up on windowsills, on top of bookshelves and anywhere they could find space. They had recently refurbished the bedroom with the help of Lily’s mum, Maggie, and were feeling quite comfortable in their own four walls. Of course, it wasn’t what Lily wished for in the long term, but it would do for now. They had made it homely, their friends felt comfortable and Matt was a born host who loved to cook while Lily entertained. They had also managed, after three years of always wanting to, to finally clear out the boxes left over from moving in together. It felt homely, cosy and Matt and Lily loved snuggling in with a glass of wine in the evening. Although they were both still young they enjoyed their time together and were seen as a bit of an old couple or even husband and wife by friends, colleagues and even the cashiers at their local supermarket! But what went on in Fraser’s four walls was beyond good and bad...

Nappies, Vaginas and Walking Talking Johnny

Here is the last titbit of the first chapter, following on from Fetish, Fun and more...:

... Just as Sonya turned around the corner from the bathroom where she had been hiding Walking Talking Johnny’s arm flung out from behind the curtain with the panty and thrust it crotch first in her face. Sonya yelped and Walking Talking Johnny dropped the panty. Lily watched and stifled a laugh as she calmly picked up the panty. “So, what’s the deal; are you going to take it?” she asked, staring at the intimidated little man. “Erm… I’m going to have to think about it again… You know, it’s just that I…” Lily hung the panty in the changing room and started marching Johnny out the door, a stern look on her face. “I just haven’t got all that much money and I…” They reached the door and Lily interrupted: “You know, don’t worry. That’s fine. Take care. See you soon. Ok?” Walking Talking Johnny stared at her, his Mac steamy from his excitement. “Erm, yes. Ok. Thank you… I, you know…” Without paying further attention to him Lily began closing shop. Sonya shot towards the door after having recovered from the panty situation. “What are you doing? We still have fifteen minutes.” Lily looked at Sonya: “No, we don’t. Matt is waiting for me at home with sushi and wine and I’ve had enough of nappies, vaginas and smells for one day. Come on, help me get these shoes inside.”

More to come the next few days. I'm on holiday, so not online as much. Sorry, folks!

A Train Journey in Hotpants

www.zaggora.de/hotpants/

Today I decided to wear my Zaggora Hotpants to work. But hold up: let me start from the beginning. A week ago I received my order from London. A pair of Hotpants with which I can apparently lose 2 clothes sizes in two weeks. Hey, it was reduced- so why not give it a shot! I'm lazy, lack self-control and hate jogging so why not try something where I actually don't have to do anything but put them on and go about my business. (Although even the thought of having to put them on and then also put trousers on feels one step too far for me. I'm telling you, I'm lazy.)

So this morning I thought yeah, why not. I have to walk quite a bit to work so hopefully it'll be worth it. The pants are relatively comfortable. Like a pair of riding shorts in wetsuit look, feel and smell kind of comfortable. But hey, losing weight isn't meant to be fun and games. It all fit underneath my clothes and apart from a slight diver smell it isn't noticeable either (nothing a little perfume won't cover).

And it proved to have been a good idea to put on a little more perfume than usual because my train journey was a nightmare. Packed like sardines and smelling like them too I clenched my bum cheeks together and braved the journey. Each stop emptied the train a little but also filled it a little more. I tried to concentrate on my loose knees trying to ying and yang my body in harmony to the start and stop of the train. It wasn't proving easy. The train jerked and I suddenly noticed a very foul smell. Like foul eggs; foul eggs that had been eaten by someone and let out again in gaseous form. I gagged. I've said it once and I'll say it again: my stomach is not strong in the morning. Quickly I grabbed my scarf and covered my mouth. It managed to stop the worst of it. A bike rolled over my foot. I love mornings.

Once out I gasped and breathed in deeply. It would be a lie to say I breathed in fresh air cos let's face it, this is Berlin. But it was a relief... And so I made my way to the bus station: fully aware that I would probably have to wait 15minutes. I walked in long strides trying to make the most of the hotpants. But my legs were still cold and frosty. And they still are pretty cold. But I'm sat down, the pants safely hidden beneath my trousers and can't wait for two weeks to check whether in two weeks I will notice a change.

Go, Zaggora, go! And only a few more days of stuffy, over-filled trains... yay.

Fetish, Fun and more...

Back by popular demand, here is the next part of my book or rather the first chapter. A follow-on from the Blog entry Monday Morning. Enjoy!

It thrilled Lily to encounter such interesting people for a large part of her time but at times like now she wished she could crawl under the counter and pretend she wasn’t there. This guy, nicknamed The Walking Talking Johnny was about 5foot high, average weight, in his fifties, ever so slightly socially awkward and a rubber fetishist. Lily and Sonya could already smell him at the door as they heard the shop bell go. “Evening ladies!” he drawled, hobbling towards Lily and Sonya like Harry Potter’s Dobbi. “Evening,” they mumbled back as Sonya elbowed Lily in the ribs. “Ow!” she hissed, “No. Not me, you! I went last time.”As he wobbled towards the cowering girls behind the till the stench grew stronger. “I’m not going. I feel ill already. I have a headache. You can’t make me.” Lily clenched her teeth together and leaned casually over the counter. “What can we do for you today, young man?” Walking Talking Johnny beamed from ear to ear: “Oh my! Young man? Haha… Not me. All set in my ways!” Lily held her breath as he approached the counter. “I’m sure you are, I’m sure you are,” she whispered. “So what are you after?” Sonya had escaped to the changing rooms at the end of the shop and watched at a safe distance with her hands wrapped around her Yogi Tea. “Nappies. The transparent, rubber ones; I saw them last time, extra-large. I’d like to try them on.” Sonya spluttered tea out of her nose as Lily sighed again, her hands semi-aggressively on her midi-length, silk-woven, jet-black-skirt-clad hips. “Sir, we can’t let you try them on. We explained that the last time.” His crinkly eyes lowered in disappointment and his arms fell limply to his side. “I thought, if I wash myself right and wear cotton underwear you might make an exception? You know, I haven’t got that much money, and…” He trailed off as he unbuttoned his rubber mac, “… I would just really like to try it. Or the underwear to tuck away my… you know. That looks like a … you know.” Oh goodness no, thought Lily, not the prawn-smelling underwear that made her shudder just at the thought of someone wearing them. There were things with which she was able to deal and others with which she could not. Nappies and penis strap-away vagina panties were definitely on the not List. “Really, I am totally clean and I went to the…” Lily interrupted him and stepped out from behind the till. Walking Talking Johnny’s eyes lusted over her from top to bottom; the spit rests in the corners of his mouth quivering with excitement. He blushed a little as he realised Lily was watching him (and shuddering with disgust). “Right, let’s just go downstairs into the basement and have a look.” 

Lily gave Sonya an evil stare as she lifted the rope out of its hook and ushered dear Walking Talking Johnny down the stairs. How long was she going to have to overcome this urge to turn around and run? Sure, it was great that every day was a surprise in that you never knew whether you were going to sell nappies, nipple clamps or ridiculously expensive, Swarovski-covered evening dresses. However, Lily was starting to want more. She had responsibility, talent, a wicked sales-speech, a great connection to the boss and the freedom to do pretty much everything she wanted to in the weird and wonderful little boutique; but she wanted more. Lately she had been craving more of a challenge; not in the sense of an over-weight, sweating man in search of being dressed like a woman with suspenders, heels and a basque; no, more like a higher position, the ability to work her way up. And at Real Life Taboo, the only raise she would get would be to become the boss and welcoming as such responsibility may sound, Lily knew it wasn’t what she wanted.Walking Talking Johnny made his way down the narrow steps into the “naughty” basement like a little child at Christmas time. He was mumbling underneath his breath but Lily couldn’t make out a word as the rubber catsuit beneath his clothes squeaked continuously. She stayed back a few steps as she watched him disappear around the corner and breathed in deeply before braving the dungeon of horrors. But only seconds later he emerged at the foot of the stairs with the pink, jock-strap similar rubber panty in hand and a huge grin on his face; “It’s still here, this one’s my size.”Lily gave up far too quickly; “Oh, come on then. Let’s get you in a cabin. But I’m telling you now: you have 15 minutes. If there is anything, and I mean anything on that panty when I get it back then you are buying it, ok?” Johnny made his way to the changing rooms like a dog that had just got a treat and was going to bury it in the garden. Sonya jumped as she saw him approaching and quickly disappeared in the bathrooms. “Thank you,” he mumbled, clutching the panty as if it were a gold bar, “I won’t be long.” 

What followed was 20 gruelling minutes of peeking into the cabin to make sure he wasn’t getting up to any shenanigans. He had sat down on the stool in the changing room and carefully placed the panty over a pair of long, woollen underwear. His stumpy, pale legs covered in sparse black hairs looked like the legs of flies in the harsh lights of the cabin. He didn’t attempt anything and instead just marvelled at himself in the mirror like a young Cher.“That’s twenty minutes already. Come on. Put your trousers back on.” Lily stood infront of the floor length mirror outside the changing rooms and tapped her Bottega Veneta heels on the floor impatiently. She could hear him shuffling nervously in the cabin. What happened next Sonya and Lily would not forget for a long time...

For more, comment below. That's the only way these delicious tit-bits are gonna keep on coming :)

A Weekend with the In-Laws (2)

I had avoided switching on the light in the bathroom because I was still too sleepy and wanted to wee, flush and go back to bed. But the checkered bathroom tiles were splotchy with blood... My boyfriend stood behind me and mumbled: "Was that you?" I looked at him incredulously: "What? You think when I have my menstruation I squat over the bathroom floor and bleed on it? For fun or what?"He grinned; "No, probably Dad right?" I scooted into the kitchen, I really wanted to wee... Disinfectant and kitchen roll. "Don't worry, I'll do it." He strolled into the kitchen while I got down on my knees and started soaking the blood, as it had dried already, and wiping it away. It only took 10minutes or so and I was finally able to wee.

We awoke to his dad knocking on the door: "Time to get up. It's ten o'clock." We both looked at each other: were we really being told to get up in our own home? Oh well... And so we got up. His dad was stood in the door: "Dad? Did one of you two hurt yourselves last night or did you slaughter a pig in the bathroom?". His dad looked at us: "Oh, no. I banged my toe. Was there a lot of blood? I didn't notice." Sleepily I started putting the mattresses back. Within minutes we had managed to put everything back but unfortunately also managed to break the internet cable off the plug in the wall. "Oh no..."

And so I showered ridiculously quickly and made my to the electric store and marched through, eyes barely open and totally clueless to the first salesman I could find. And within minutes I had the cable in my hand and was making my way home. It took a whole 30minutes and I was back home to notice huge crease marks on my left cheek. So I was still really sleepy...

But the weekend ended nicely. We bid them goodbye with freshly baked brownies and sunny weather and spent the rest of the weekend watching movies and going for a long walk on Sunday.

And now a new week has begun. And so has the countdown. Holiday, here we come...

A Weekend with the In-Laws

I had just spent a day with my mum as entertainment, a mood-lifter, call it what you like. I had made my mum happy. And so she had driven me home and I had invited her to stay so that she could see me make brownies (in the hope that she would take the recipe home and also try to make them). It was going well and I was in the final stages (and also most crucial) when the home phone rang. Argh! Erm... Mum, you have to pick that up, I can't! If I had stopped to pick up the phone it would have all gone wrong, there and then... We hadn't been expecting my boyfriend's parents until the next day but we had almost felt it coming (so that I had already cleaned the whole flat the day before). And ofcourse, it was the in-laws on the phone. My mum picked up: "Hello, this is Lisa's mum...", and on the other end: "Hello?". My mum again: "Hi, this is Lisa's mum. Lisa is baking and so she can't come..." My boyfriend's dad cut her off: "We're now in Wittenberg and my boyfriend is to call Gaby on her mobile phone." Now, bearing in mind that my mum has never met or spoken to my boyfriend's dad you can imagine the look on her face as she heard the phone go dead. I couldn't help but laugh: "Mum, don't worry. That's normal." And so the weekend began. In a mad frenzy my mum and I began cleaning the kitchen, washing up, tidying the living room, sorting away clothes, lighting candles. Roughly an hour before they arrived my boyfriend came home: agitated, irritated and not very happy. Not very happy about his day at work, not very happy about his dad and partner coming, not very happy that we were not going to have any alone time that evening. And he proceeded to not be happy about the fact that we had to go food shopping...

The arrival was imminent but neither drawn-out nor painful. Within a short period of time we had shown them to their room, caught up on the latest and done a tour of the flat. Speedily and with grumbling tummies we locked up and made our way to a little restaurant we had been craving to go to for ages. After a wonderful evening of delicious food, beer, wine, anecdotes and giggles we crawled home, fit for bed. But the evening was not over. We began to make beds, move furniture to make space for the mattresses for us to sleep on. It was half past midnight that I finally showed them where everything was for breakfast in the morning and fell into bed, utterly exhausted.

The next day was a work day so my boyfriend and I fled the scene nice and early leaving them to sleep in. It felt ok as I knew they had everything from fruit to juice and toast: we like being good hosts. I have to say I had a very long day... Enough said. And when my boyfriend called to say he was on his way I could hear the door go already and his dad was stood in the hall babbling at me about haircuts and food and his day... My stress was growing. I was still working and my boyfriend was telling me about his day when we were cut off. The next call I got was my boyfriend telling me to find a greek restaurant because his stepmum and son are hungry and want to eat somewhere. The hustle began. From searching for a greek restaurant to trying to convince my boyfriend to call the restaurant to try and find out whether it still exists to finding out where my mum was meeting us, if she was meeting us and so on, my nerves were wearing thin. But after sending them all off and spending a few minutes chatting to our hairdresser (and friend) before my mum picked me up and we drove to the greek restaurant we had found and booked I had calmed down and we were all able to enjoy a wonderful evening.

The next morning it all happened: at 7 a.m. I awoke to go for little girls and found blood all over the bathroom floor...

To be continued tomorrow...

From Neukölln to Charlottenburg: a Trip for all senses

My journey this morning must be documented. I know, many people witness (and survive) the journey too, every morning, but I have to get it off my chest.

Neukölln: 

So the journey begins in my hometown Neukölln; known for many things. Amongst others, multicultural, great food, fantastic markets, small families (and extremely large families), murders and döner shops. I have decided to split this into certain categories that I experience in order to show a comparison of both worlds: 

Religion: From my front door to the bus it is not unusual that I encounter several mums with headscarves and children. Religion is big in this area and the deeper you go into the heart of Neukölln the more elaborate and colorful headscarves you will see. The closer I get to Kreuzberg the more I encounter others. Particularly interesting is the probably around 65-year old woman standing at the Görli train station with some sort of brochure in her hand talking in strange tongues about the end of the world. But with music on my headphones I decided that today I am not going to let myself be converted. 

Clothes: It begins again as soon as I leave my front door. Most interesting is the football fan that seems to live outside the off-licence infront of our home. Come rain or shine he is stood there with a beer sometimes with an equally horrifically dressed woman in his blue and white scarves jabbering something about the team that no one really cares about. He is not the only one that cares for following a tribe of lemmings. At the bus station I encounter the typical young turkish man: jeans casually slung around his hips, sports jacket (smelling ridiculously clean) puffed up around his slender body. He's joking with his pals and they're mumbling incoherent, discriminating trash about each others' mothers. Once in the train the scenario changes ever so slightly. There is a young girl with a woolen orange headband, a norwegian, washed-out jumper, denim shorts, thick grey, coming apart tights and trekking boots. I look down at my tidy shirt and jeans and polished boots and sigh. Either I'm not going with the trend or I don't want to look like I'm about to climb Mount Everest and have a hippy party at the top of it. Either way: the fashion is eclectic in the train. 

Smells: enough said, actually. From the hobo in the corner of the row of seats with his minging foot, rotting under a blue plastic bag to the 80-year old, coated in cat hair, bedraggled and falling apart woman muttering to herself under her breath and reaking of everything from cat to perfume from a few decades ago. It triggers an urge to puke every morning: my stomach is just not that strong at eight a.m.  

Bus drivers: my final anecdote to the morning in Neukölln. It's not as if I want everyone to be happy all the time. But I like it when some people are happy most of the time. And it's not as if I skip and prance at 8 a.m. but when the bus driver cuts the corners and three kids and an old woman go flying through the bus and you're lucky if you find a seat before he sets off and sends you flailing from seat to seat in a mad frenzied attempt not to run into other people or trip and fall I wish for just one minute that somebody had given the bus driver a kiss and told him he's a good dog. 

So, it takes about an hour until I reach Charlottenburg. And the people coming and going certainly change over time. Here goes: 

Charlottenburg: 

Religion: upon arriving in Charlottenburg I immediately run into a nun. That was so predictable. On the morning that I am cursing and screaming blasphemous nothings into the cold autumn air I just happen to run into a nun. Damn it. Ooops. Needless to say, she smiles at me and I feel even worse for being such a bad person although hey, everyone needs to swear sometimes. And it wasn't my morning. 

Clothes: now this is the most obvious change. As soon as we hit the beginning of the shopping mile the scene changes drastically and I begin to feel like the girl with the norwegian jumper and denim shorts. From left to right all I see is Wellensteyn, Louis Vuitton, gold, Swarovski and heels. Clackety-clack with their underarm, sweat-catching handbags. Bleurgh. I hate them for their manicured nails and perfectly applied make-up. I want to chuck a bucket of water over them. Sorry, nun. 

Smells: these are also a change of night and day, urge to puke and urge to run. It doesn't get better: it's just different intense smells. The first woman to plop off the bus is doused in what smells like three bottles of different perfumes. Clearly her nose must be bunged up because she hasn't noticed that everyone in the bus is moving seats to get away from the putrid smell. And it appears as if her male pendant is stood infront of the BMW Showroom as I get out of the bus. In his Barbour jacket he also appears to have bathed in some ridiculously biting and intense cologne. I forget how long I've held my breath and quickly exhale and cover my mouth with my scarf to hinder any further stench seeping into my lungs and nose. Yuk. I can still taste it now...

Bus drivers: what shall I say- this is Berlin. Bus drivers are annoying, speed-raging maniacs everywhere in town! No difference in Charlottenburg!

From one world into the next. And the only thing that stayed constant was my smile. Because let's face it: what's the point of frowning? From one world to another I wish you a good day: whatever world you're in...

Blue Skies, Warmth & Words

So, the sun is out and the radio is telling me it's raining and that the weekend is going to bring temperatures of minus degrees: nice. I don't believe the weather reports anyway which is why I am now going to proceed to wash my winter wooly hats (grumble).

But Louis Armstrong is singing about a wonderful world so why not just ignore the rubbish truck banging away outside, the neighbor's shouting and screaming as he rides another drug-fueled trip induced by his drug-infiltrating neighbors, the baby crying next door and the very creative musician on the other side playing Hänschen Klein (a german children's song) over and over again on the tuba in a new, freestyle fashion that lets me believe he has just downed a bottle of carton wine and his fat, greasy girlfriend is watching daytime tv and shouting at him to keep it down. Oh, I do love my neighbors. And it is a wonderful world: if I could just drown all that out!!

In order to better my mood I have rummaged around in my pieces of writing and found something warm, welcoming and lovely. This should do the job:

ON BOBBING 

Three little old ladies 

Bobbing. Three of them; in and out of each other. Chattering; nattering; chirping sweet nothings. Legs wrapped in woolen stripes like Granny's jumpers from long ago. The long age has returned to now. A hustling, bustling trio with wooly bobbling hats and camel-beige, washed-out coats. Woven lace placed delicately around the collar and itchy-looking, mauve mittens covering skeleton-white, drawn fingers. They reach for each other; gathering their bodies and thoughts in unison. Three little old ladies, here, in the cold; bobbing. 

Baby; bob 

A cheeky, dimpled smile. Like a bun: puffy, sweet-smelling, warm and doughy; pudgy and without thought. With its bum stretched out and pom-pom hat bobbing in yellow. Up and down. Bob. Bob. Bob. Hands reaching for invisible hold in its hazy, purple aura; attracting everyone's attention. A gurgle, a cough and off it goes again. With button-nose and ruby lips; muffled noises and un-coordinated gestures he is having a ball. Bob. Bob. Bob. Not a care in the world. How much you wish you were a part of it right now. Up and down. I will remember it and re-create it. Bob. Bob. Bob. Baby: bob. 

Taking flight 

Their heads bob up and down; impulses ricochet off their glossy feathers. Their legs are like springs, a pendulum rests in the middle of their tiny bodies. Birds: as if in love they knock their beaks against each other, chirping and singing as the warm sun fights its way through the icy cold onto their puristic and wonderfully simple bobbing before they take flight into the crystal blue sky. As the caffeine hits in I wonder whether this rush is what they feel when their impulses lead them away from here? Do they think of coming and going as they bob up and down on the shivering branch? Within a split second they have flown away; in unison. After bobbing in the sun; in unison. Bliss.

© as indicated

Right, then I wish you all a wonderful day. Wrap up warmly if the weather has taken its toll your way. And if you can: watch what's going on outside. Because there is magic in every moment.

Chanel :: Vogue

VOGUE CHANEL BACKSTAGE ---> click here

... beautiful stuff.

Dismal, rainy, grey and yuk.

So today is not a good day... It started with the fact that you now have to turn the light on in the kitchen when you get up which is a nightmare cos it is glaring, bright and far from welcoming (must remember to fix light above oven which is not as nasty). This is followed by a peak out of the window into rain, grey, unhappy faces and the question of what to wear.

This morning I decided I couldn't care less: dress up and look pretty to beat the rainy blues. But oh, if I had known that that fine, drizzly wet rain would soak me through and through on my 15minute walk, I would have changed my mind.

So now I look, smell and feel like a wet dog... Good morning. Thank you, world.

ps. will start blogging about fashion soon, too. I know that has been neglected up until now. That'll change, I promise.

My Guilty Pleasure

Just a little note in the middle of the day: how bloody great is Johnny Robinson on X Factor UK?? I LOVE HIM! Ok: he was a bit wobbly here and there but hey, he is top notch entertainment, or as Tulisa so beautifully put it: "my guilty pleasure" ;) And since when is the jury panel so amazing and lovely albeit still pretty honest; Gary? The guy is the way he is and he lives it down!

So: here it is again just in case you guys missed it (get up and dance!):

Monday Morning

Good morning everyone.
So, the new week is here. My countdown is on until it's off for holidays. And my goodness, it has turned cold. It appears that overnight, a cross-breed of autumn and winter has crept into the city and decided to seep through every open crevice into the flat. What in the world is going on? Never mind autumn: we appear to have skipped it entirely and are getting the childhood stage of winter already. Out with the scarves and thick winter boots: hurray.
But anyways: I guess it is just a monday morning and I got the monday blues. So, I wanna give y'all a little something to start the day with a giggle. As I said before, I've started writing a book. It's kind of semi-autobiographical in the sense that I'm changing names and perhaps the chronology of the events but otherwise pretty much all of it happened. So, here y'are: the first few paragraphs of the first chapter, enjoy!

Having worked in a fetish store for over four years didn’t stop Lily feeling grossed out by particular characters time and time again. The variety of people she had met was huge: transvestites, transsexuals, cross-dressers, lesbians, homosexuals, wannabe-fetishists, full-blown-fetishists, anchor-men, basketball players, producers, politicians, businessmen, beauticians, prostitutes, artists, musicians, wrinkly women, plasticised women, urologists, proctologists, monogamists, misogynists, polygamists, playmates, playboys, rich, poor, skinny, huge, crazy, introverted, tattooed, pierced, old, young and not one was ever like the other.   

The day was dragging and Lily prayed that closing her eyes would make it pass quicker. Hunched over on the bar stool behind the till she could hear Sonya flicking through a magazine and chomping on a peach. Come on, she beckoned, one hour to go. Just one more hour until I can snuggle up with Matt and watch series all evening. Lily could hear Sonya droning on about some political, environmental, something-a-rather theme: “Isn’t it ghastly that the current, prosperous political stance …” Sonya was lovely and liked going to demos, knitting and baking, unlike Lily. Baking, sure. Knitting, maybe. But squatting in front of train tracks to protest against something that is going to happen come what may? No. Lily had better things to do. 

The droning grew quieter and suddenly stopped. Lily kept her eyes closed and her head nestled deep in her hands. Norah Jones played quietly over the speakers and the smell of PVC and rubber made itself noticeable in her nose and mouth again (she thought she had managed to control that). Yuk. Wearing it, ok; but the thought of it ruling my night and day? No thank you… And that’s when suddenly she realised why Sonya had grown quiet. Without lifting her head out of her hands Lily whispered ever so quietly: “Sonya, is it who I think it is?” Trying hard not to wobble on the bar stool Lily lifted her head up in slow motion and leaned back against the counter. Sonya sighed. “I’m afraid so. You? Or me?”

ps. drop me a line if you wanna read more or comment below if you wanna get something off your chest. Have a good monday morning, y'all!!

A new Week begins...

So, the weekend is coming to an end. A new week of work begins and I am eager to find out what it will bring. In a fortnight we're going on holiday (I'll tell you about who "we" are too at some point in time) and I can't wait... I have quite a few bits and pieces that I would like to show you all: excerpts of my book and other ramblings out of my life. I have so many written bits n bobs on paper (the good old-fashioned blog ;) that I should enter here. And as a matter of fact: I will put them on here; what a way to get it out. Writings where I was out in foreign lands, in love, out of love, tingling with anticipation, sick with anger and frustration... So many emotions that you can probably all relate with and have an opinion to. So many things I want to share with you all; as that way I can get it off my chest and get it out. Right, but that's it for now... Time to relax a little before the weekend. A final little nibble of my blurbs for the evening:

On feeling useless:

Home is the only place I feel worth anything. No matter what I wear, my man’s eyes sparkle. No matter how stupid, funny or nasty I am: he knows, it’s just me and I would never wish anyone harm. Here, the slightest odd tone of voice and immediately I am labelled as being in a bad mood and grumpy and not saying what I feel or expressing my anger. I’ve had it with pussy-footing around everyone because they’re “sensitive” today. People have lost the ability to say things as they are and not talk around the entire subject.

So when you start your day tomorrow, don't forget who you are at home: a strong, confident person that says what they think in a tuned, authentic and thought-through manner. Believe in yourselves and if someone crosses you, remember: breathe, relax and think before you speak. And it is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt (Abraham Lincoln).

KEEP SMILING.

(and singing and dancing)

A Candle Lit

Fair hair of tinted light


Sight lucid gauzy bright


Hands caress in unadorned skill


Heart: profound patience, replete with will.



Day had dawned


The morn was still


Song still hazy


from a night of chill.


A candle lit


from tears exhaust


Head still giddy;


The breath is lost.



A stifling smile,


though strained, is won;


four mortals in aching


four united to one.


For albeit affliction


and torment transpired;


A bridge has been paved


by her soul; t’ be admired.



Taken untimely


So much love was yet t’occur


Now candles burn in honour


Of all the times that were.



She will not be forgotten


for good-heartedness lives on


in each and every one of us


that she shone her spirit upon.


Let us not mourn


for she blessed us with her grace


Let us rejoice and remember:


her smile, her laugh and embrace.



Fair hair of tinted light


Sight lucid gauzy bright


Hands caress in unadorned skill


Heart: profound patience, replete with will.

22. January 2009

The Silent Passenger

Dear Silent Passenger

trapped in my heart:

I didn’t know where to finish,

Now I don’t know where to start.

I mean no harm

with these words core bound,

But I hear you lurking

in my heart; unfound.

With scarlet strength

and fervour lucked,

I beg you:

By Amour’s hand, be plucked.

For composed you sit

with an adamant smile.

Lodged like a thorn;

The devil’s course? A severed mile.

Now the strain of mirth mingling

in your lines, not abrupt,

leaves the rain harsh, not tingling

with our loss;

it must be stopped.

Be rid, pounding heart,

Long enough your purse clutched

my breath: tale unspoken,

my hope: left untouched.

Like ashen fruit decaying;

Mould and flies, take your turn.

I am done with the silence,

Heart imploded: a lesson to learn.

Throw back your storm-grey hair

and gaze to the time-lost sky.

I have sung the last love words

of our turquoise lullaby.

The fierce skies have gathered.

Their stare brought me to my knees.

Now I reach for ochre caring;

For he’s there, I know it:

Please

refrain from contemplation

and come back from our start.

Please leave me, silent passenger;

become a sealed memory in my heart.

28. August 2010

Let's start again...

So, it's been a while since I posted. And a lot has happened since. I'm writing a book. I've had a burn-out. I'm still with the love of my life. I lost my greatest mentor. My family has gone it's separate ways. I've started a new job. My life confronts me with new challenges, small and great, every single day. And all I keep thinking is I haven't found my way yet. I know I'm not alone. Steve Jobs' passing away has put his greatest words before me again and put everything into a new light again:

Keep looking, don't settle.

And this is what I wake up to each morning. I haven't found my way yet; but the words love, luck, career and fashion are those that make me who I am now. Which words will my future bring? I hope: family, fulfilment, helping others and fun. In whatever form, I want to give. And at the moment, I believe a book is the way forward: so much I have experienced could be of use and help to others who are experiencing the same things as me. It's worth a shot. And until that time has come that I can present my life in written form, I will write about the things I love and that bring me fun. So, until very soon.