Of late I have yet to see anything in fashion that has excited me. It has all been nice but nothing artistically Earth shattering - much like Beyonce’s 2014 Grammy performance. ….Then came Jeremy Scott.
As usual, his comical yet quirky cool clothes were slapped on a runway for us to see; complete with models as attractive as the apparel they had on.
Monsters, twrils, fuzzy maxi dresses, baseball sock dresses, Rihanna-ready mesh and slick hair reawakened the creativity that was lacking in this past NYFW. Granted, it isnt out of this world but it all looks so comfortably fashionable.
Without a doubt my favorite “oh ghad” momment was the band-aid print. I want that shxt…..and cant afford it. One day, one day.
Check out the full collection here: http://www.style.com/fashionshows/complete/slideshow/F2014RTW-JSCOTT/#1.
Always ///// Kwame
The New Django
I finally watched ‘12 Years A Slave’. It be ait.
The formula for a movie about African-American slavery seems to be: a white movie making team come together, draw up a good enough story that will give them the liberty to say ‘nigger’ with little or no music over 2hrs, several shots of actors just staring into nothing as they pray for an Oscar nom and a hell of a lot of whipping.
As I thought, Hollywood’s new contra-stereotypical IT girl Lupita Nyong’o, was the most interesting piece of the entire film. Her talent is not an in your face “I am a brilliant actress” sort of thing but something even more magical. Flawless….I mean, Lupita was not acting as her character Patsey, she WAS Patsey. I find it a little difficult to say Nyong’o played the role of Patsey but rather in some exceptionally brilliant display of true talent, managed to present herself as the blood, sweat, tears and soul of the character.
The main character of the film I grew tired of and forgot his name. But after the first hour the acting was stepped up and a Canadian Brad Pitt (who’s production company with ex-wife Jennifer Aniston, ‘Plan B’ produced the film), eventually saves the day. I found the vocabulary of the slaves to be a bit too broad if their intention was to play down their intelligence in order to survive. That aside, I must commend the performances of Michael Fassbender, Sarah Paulson, Benedict Cumberbatch and a pleasant surprise in the form of Alfre Woodard.
I found it interesting and shameful how people of that era would use the Bible to support their hate crimes. I also think it foolish that anyone could use something as trivial as skin color to be their reason for such a ludicrous basis on which to build the structure of a hierarchy. But alas, that was then and the discussion of such topics is for another day.
Always ///// Kwame
I am in Gaborone.
Much to my dismay. This place distracts me. The best way to move through it, like in many places, is to move in the same way I came onto this plant - alone. Loneliness isn’t something I regularly feel. I enjoy my own company and thoughts. If not, being social is within my DNA so meeting and conversing with new people is as simple as lighting a cigarette.
In a few weeks I will be traveling again. Salvation is coming with the clouds.
I have spent some time with a friend of a friend . He’s a French-Vietnamese backpacker spontaneously taking in the African continent. He doesn’t speak much which I attribute to the language barrier. He is a horrid dancer but enjoys the odd blunt or LSD.
We went to see the Nelson Mandela biopic last night. An eye opener for us both. He told me of how local dark-skinned people in France face racial difficulties in terms if employment, acceptance etc. Further, we discussed the struggles of a white man in Africa. Things such as the assumed image of wealth that comes with being pale faced man within African borders, the constant stares etc.
So if there is anything I have been reminded of by Madiba is that everyone, regardless of skin colour, appearance, finances, ethnicity and so forth; has some kind of struggle. We must open our minds to these things.
Die for the ideal.
Always ///// Kwame
I am in Windhoek.
This seems to be a place where every time I visit I tend to think a lot in the days leading up to my departure.
I’ve realized I could not live here. I feel unsafe and do not want to become a part of the social scene. It all seems very segregated with people constantly trying to be above each other when really they ain’t shxt.
There is the place called Warehouse that apparently is full if people with problems. Everyone there is basically drinking away borrowed money. Wannabe transgender social climbers, lairs, lonely fun seeking white men, etc. call it home. I hate it. I’ve probably been there 4 times now and I dislike that I am recognizable and probably the subject of ponder. It reminds me of Linga Longa in Gabz. (of which I am thankfully banned from)
Along with that, I have somehow found myself in a committed week long relationship. (a cuddle gone wrong)
Here’s what I’ve learnt; I like to protect and bathe people in affection and consideration. To have them as my own and to be their provider/confidant. Perhaps I should be a dad. But I have become so comfortable with my own space and myself that I don’t want to compromise. To be accommodating, yes but my standards like the view from the top.
It feels good to finally have the desire to write again though I haven’t got to experience much of what I enjoy doing so that is my mission for the remainder of these days. Plus I’ve discovered things about myself and people that have been brought to the forefront. I believe them.
I am closer to being aware of my AURA but still don’t know what it feels like on other people. Self-awareness is much healthier than cockiness.
Anyway, “Never a failure, always a lesson.”
Oh, and I still don’t give a shxt about poetry. Oops….
Always ///// Kwame