and when you fall get up and dance

My body has been trying to keep up with my mind but always seems to be a step behind. When I'm a Little hyper as I am, a little hyper manic (which I feel I wear really well)My body just cant be in sync all the time and as a result I become, well, clumsy. I am clumsy by nature anyway but if you were to watch me as I am now, dancing around as if in a music video, as if clubbing all day, the music in my mind are my thoughts with a beat and a tune and rhyme and I do feel as if I am on a stage, I have an audience.


So here some examples. Yesterday I was prancing round the kitchen as I do, but as my mind swirled around to the music in my head and I spoke rapidly to my sister I wanted to do a simple thing. Walk to the fridge,open the door and take out the milk. What happened was I somehow missed the milk , lifted a bottle really quick and as I spoke my mind didn't connect to my hand which should naturally grip and the bottle went flying. So I bent down and started to clean up the glass, only while I was doing that I was thinking of business venture 3062, so I stood up in a motion with a thought process not connected to the spill and yes a shard of glass was stood on, blood now joined the yellow juice spill. I was tended to by the 'safe brigade' as they checked how deep it went I was talking about my dog not eating the glass. Only then noticing the blood coming from my second last toe (and this little piggy had none)


This morning I wanted to take a drive to the shop to buy some cigarettes. so I get to the store , just up the road, I speed anyhow, I'm a racing driver you know. I stumble out the car (you would think I was drunk) for some reason I find myself flying to the ATM, as I get there i forget that when you reach a stair you pull your leg up and step with your foot. No.Not me,  I think I can walk through cement too. I trip,I break my fall with my right hand. I don't look around to see if anyone is looking because I am driven to draw money. The machine churns out R400 in R20 notes, I speak to the machine , "R20 notes! Really,You cant be fucking serious" a voice from behind, a voice that comes with a clean cut guy, "excuse me. What was that?" I turn and say, "that machine only gives R20 notes, It cant be fucking serious" I walk away. I enter the shop to buy my fags and it seems I am now a parrot as I say to the shop attendant. Oh no, I take out the wad of cash and wave it in her face, "that machine out there only gives R20 Notes! It cant be fucking serious?" apparently that was funny. I get home somehow and repeat the story. Twice!


I'm going on a bit here aren't I: welcome you to my colourful world. To me its colorful, reds and blues and whites and yellows and glitters and blacks and blues and light blue and purple and reds. I dance with my colors. They dance with me.


Most of my day was spent trying to get one task done, but that task took me everywhere. I didn't know How I ended up from a veggie shop to a toy store, to home ware, to 20 million different hardware stores and so on and so on, what felt like 20 minutes ended up being 5 hours and Finally I made for the dance floor at home.


My dog must love these moods because we go on very very long walks. I talk to people when I walk and some of them talk back. We have intense , fulfilling conversations. We laugh, we argue,we cry,we hug and then I realise I'm talking out loud and think maybe Its time to go home.


Home I go and begin to paint letters. Wood letters. I don't just start to paint , first I try all the colors I can and the colors converse with each other, a dance off and eventually I choose yellow. I paint out awake and stick it on my wall and awake I am: tomorrow Alive shall join awake and I'm thinking my mind might consider a dance in between.


Moving swiftly  to a catch my flight , the journey unknown, the sound track of my life changes with my thoughts and is carried by my feelings. I use my body and my feet and try to make my mind my partner while my heart does all the talking.




here it is:

My Mustang carpet ride

I bought myself a Mustang today...

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to drive either a fire bird trans am or a mach1 mustang.In my fantasies they were both black, like rogue stallions,stallions that swept me away like white unicorns.

So why not. Why keep resisting the temptation right? right....

There she is. perfect for me. She is not black but white and she is convertible. She is a dream. As I got in i sunk into her leather seats, moulded to my body, I melt into her ,entwined, we were one. My fingers feel the icy keys as i clasp them, push them in and turn. Start.She purrs.

I drive away slowly, clutch in, clutch out, clutch me free, I drive faster , she roars, i howl as the wind rushes past my hair through my my mind, bare!

I slowdown and park by the sea, Oh to make love in this car... This care, could it be... I look around and everything fades, i fall to the ground and its just me, no purr of her engine or seat weaved upon me, no.

why this mustang of mine is so flawless,so dreamy is because it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand, it fits in my pocket, I ride it with my fingers not my feet or my hands.

Be it a toy car, may it not be, either way its driven by me

days

ust a moment remembered from each day....

Day 1: Rickshaw Rush

We were taken for a ride by an insidious tacky jewelry man. The idea was for my mom to do business with him. Turned out he did business with us. His business was of dishonesty. Once he realised were disinterested in his very tacky over exaggerated jewelry, I'm not sure even the Williams sisters would wear dangling round there necks. But yes he promised a ride back to the hotel, 3 minutes in he received "a phone call" stopped on the side of the road and told us he had a meeting, "get out "

Here we were in the middle of no where in a part of town we knew not very far from our hotel . (wait,we didn't know any part of town) You would think one would be scared but I was not, as I watched him drive off, I chuckled and thought, "adventure!!!!!"

The excitement had kicked me in the gut before my foot reached the curb of the sidewalk, before I realise we were in a rather dark side of town, before My brain connected to my heart and said , "OK, fuck,what now?" well what does any woman do when with there mother when in a predicament, walk into the closest bazaar and shop. that's when I noticed my mom didn't seem to be too perturbed either.

After a bit of shop-lets pretend this is not happen-ing , we realised no cabs and to my utmost satisfaction we had no choice but to climb into one of the local tuck tucs with the help of the merchant we had just bought from.

Oh how pretty this ride was, zooming in and out of the traffic at the back of a bike with over bearing beautiful hooting in my ears, the beat of the traffic in sync to the the beat of my finger on the trigger of my camera, the trigger connected to the true view of my eye, freeee. my mom laughing every time she hit her head with every bump, then cursing,then laughing.

Until we reached the hotel, where they were not used to there clients taking joyrides in rickshaws,tuck tucs or any local means. Was the rush the ride or the expression of the concierge as i got out, the rush was being dropped in the middle of nowhere but knowing I was safe,believing I was true and seeing I was saved by a journey , journeys so few.

Day2: Good luck express to Taj Mahal

5am wake up call not always my strong point unless it has a purpose and today my purpose was to have the whole India train experience. Well including the train station this experience lasted all of 10.5minutes. To my surprise mom was actually quite excited, mom who I had to coax to get on my bloody train. We arrived at the station and me being half asleep couldn't really care less how we got to how platform, left mom to do all the work. Found myself climbing over people asleep spread out all over the floor, the stations smell best described as one huge male urinal. I followed my mom who took charge, she collected a couple of English back backpackers and we all made our way to the platform.

As the train approached I could sense my moms dis ease, I became excited until I slowly realised the concierge at the hotel had ripped us off. We were under the impression we were booked on second class , only to find ourselves in a dingy carriage of sleeper class. We climbed in, my excitement dropped at the pace of a small stone been thrown off a high cliff. we walked up and down, lost, confused. My mom was trying to humour me and sat on the bed next to a sadistically sleeping man with a stench as bad as the dirty station. I could not see out the window as it was black. we were in a moving slum. I could see tears swell up in her eyes, he voice broke as she spoke, " nooooo no no Carey, can you really see yourself doing this for 8 hours? , you cant even take pictures, no no no." I smiled, knowing I was defeated by a romantic Idea that was not romantic at all, I stood up and grabbed he, " no, I cant see this, lets go" we jumped out the train as it started moving.

It turned out to be a blessing, outside the station we met Sameer, "husband 2" who became our driver. We learnt much from Sameer as he drove us 4 hours to Agra. 4 hours though vacant lands. He told stories about his life, which I believe were just that:stories, but they were so mystically made up,I could not help but wait for the next word.

We had our own fictional magic carpet ride , filled with mystic potions(being the speed he seemed to be hooked on), stories about villages and sharing fires in huts,omens and cultures,we were led finally 12 toll gates later. a monkey taunted by a red haired wizard led by black magic, a pack of fags i smoked out the back window, mesmerising learning's of another, we arrived at the magical Taj Mahal.

I was overwhelmed by all these people,had a bi polar moment where i just wanted out,wanted to disappear, I sometimes couldn't handle my mother,nor myself, I wanted to evaporate.

Interesting enough I found solace in "fame"

I was stalked at first by young boys, who wanted my picture,then to shake my hand and before you knew it my mom and I were having family portraits with other family's. This to me is something more then just fascinating. Its unreality makes me disappear, into another realm, more than here or there, just less then me and more then I.

The Taj Mahal which is of course magical in splendor and rhymes to a place kept close, but the journey to this place of "love" the journey is the gift.

Check(me)out

j