Last Day of 2011

Oh 2011 please do hurry up and finish. Empty. Leave me empty.
Plans? For me no plans. Party? For me no party. I wait impatiently, in between my family who don't move and my greedy work mates that don't care. The year is changing and they just don't care. They are getting money and that's the colour with which they paint.
For me? I want things to happen. My heart beats like a hyperactive bird in too small a cage. All time. Like Love.
2011 forcibly taught me what really matters, what's important, what I should care about. Maybe its growing up. The thing is that even when you know what's important, you don't do what's right. You do what gives you pleasure, for the moment.
I want to suggest looking at 2011 with gratitude. I'm learning it every second of the way. so... thanks for this year of art just gone, heart breaks, so many, of philosophy and moving house, of my second year at University and thanks for an amazing 21st birthday. I started big things this year just leaving, like a Philosophy stall in Greenwich market and my new job which I hate so much but has given my resources and a shell because people get impressed and seem to respect me when I tell them where I work, even though I don't like it myself. My family has been doing fine too in 2011, my brother has overcome sooo many problems, my mum seems more tranquil and so does my step-dad.
The world is not so good though... 2011 was a year of big grief and a lot of greed. GREED. The word sounds like a taunting monster approaching us from the sea. That's why I need you to end 2011.
People have spent enough already, don't you think? its time for it to finish. Its time to wish and change and create and move all this stones (people) from their annoying stagnant state. So hurry up 2012, hurry up and blow it all new and fresh.
x
azile

THE REASON OF THE SEASON

Adventures of Stevie V - Dirty Cash (Money Talks) - Official Video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OkoQv9Onoc

This video in its deeply 90's style sings to my reason. Money talks. Dirty cash I want you dirty cash I need you. whoa. The things I want, to fullfill 'my soul's' true dreams cost dirty money. That's the situation at the moment, that's the season.

But we can't go about doing things just because they pay money in the end, or can we? Thing is, I hate my job. In there we are all prisoners in a marble cage. All dressed in black, attending the funeral to our creativity. WE are put there to look pretty and sell shit. Golden shit. Maybe I am too weak to resit a week in my job. Did I mention I hate it? I was put in the most disgusting place for my so called morals.
In the Harrods bubble of pointless unfair luxury, I've been working in Zegna, an Italian brand that basically sells insanely over-prized clothes dreamily hand crafted for 50 year old men. Imagine my face when I have to tell people that a jacket costs£22.000, I just cant... It feels ridiculous. Like a sick joke about inequality. So, who needs this clothes? I'll tell you: arrogant, ugly, short, rich, corrupt men. They do. When their youth and beauty are all gone and all they've done is accumulate money, they come here and spend it, the fools. The happiness you get from this shit experience of me selling you a shirt is not gonna last for more than 5 hours, a day tops. Its all artificially crafted so that you spend your dirty cash. I don't like them and I don't want to point fingers but I bet you they didn't make all that money selling hand-crafted toys, of that I'm sure. I must smell of violence. I feel so much rage, so much inner trapped rage when I see them walk up to the store, treat me like a servant or perv on me. WTF. Their necks stiff and heads held high, their wrinkly skin, they think they can buy it all. No you can't buy me. You can't even buy my kindness. I've decided to be mean. You can't buy my respect. No more.
Sometimes looking at those overly luxurious walls and thinking of the striking poverty of the rest of the fucking world, I hurt. My heart sinks. I try to imagine what else this building could be used for, I mean, for the world.
The less social conscience this place has, the more social conscience grows in me. I try to avoid it, I do silly things to pass the time and avoid hurtful thoughts... like trying to spot pretty people I could fancy or smile at children. But the children don't smile. Children from families with money are expected to act like little adults, its sad really, you can tell they are restless and that their behavior is not natural. I know it because I love children. I used to be a teacher assistant and stuff. Children are incredibly cute and just generally good people. I also really like kittens and puppies. I don't want to loose hope in the human species but it might happen if I stay at this place....
For now, in this end of the year season, dirty cash is the reason. I'm gonna go there, make it, collect it and run with it. Far, far to a land where greediness is not an attribute, is a fault.
anyway, Im not working tomorrow. Gotta say good bye to 2011.
azile
x

Diary-ing....

Webcam to gif

There's nothing I need more right now than to share with you the bizarre things I saw today in my very unlikely (for me) job. I am basically not great at life. I'm bad at relationships, I can be a shit friend, my family always looks at me with a slight air of mistrust, I'm disorganized, I dont always finish what I start, I dont eat well, dont have any timetables, I'm a pretty mess. But there are 3 things, 3 things that redeem me. 3 things I can do. They are: studying Philosophy, painting and working. I have a job at Harrods, a capitalist palace of absurd luxury and old rules. It doesnt match my ideology, at all, but they like me there and I get money. For the time being I have no choice. Today I went back to work there after a while (Christmas and fun stuff) it was bizarre. I forgot how painful their dress code is (try wearing heels standing on a marble floor for 10 hours), I forgot how rude people can be, and surprisingly, the worst are women, women with their husbands are awful. Gay men were mean today too. And you see yourself changing too. I dont think I will be able to hold this job I'm good at for long though... I felt my own voice changing when people asked me for directions and I go 'Oh yes of course madam, do you see that hall on your left?' Disgusting.
I had to distract myself counting how many men with orange trousers I could spot, turns out its quite a lot, at least 14. I mean, money earned in corrupt ways has to spent somewhere... colourful trousers!!!
Anyway, meanwhile this speedy, rich and pointless world was spinning and spending around me, I gathered a few life lessons that I hope you find useful (they definitely helped me not to hung myself)
Five lessons from my job:
1) Money definitely does not buy beauty, style or pleasantness.
2) Don't smile at men and bitches, it'll just make them more arrogant, most of the time it doesnt melt their heart; smile at the children instead.
3) Old people are the most uninhibited, if you need someone to ask an awkward question, ask your nan.
4) Everyone is different and deserves to be treated equally (this one is so cliche but I needs to be reminded to people often)
5) Good people are rare, appreciate them and keep them. Too many parasites lurk the earth.
Well, that's my lessons for tonight, now I'm off to rest my feet and get rid of the stink of perfume that haunts the whole store and surely has mind control powers.
Good night x
azile

all those faces pay for my education...

I have sudden urge to share. Yesterday.
My step-dad got given tickets to watch the final of xfactor. A 'reality' show to find a new pop act. It was so overwhelming and retarded. 10.000 people get together in a venue and wait to be entertained in exchange they give claps and shout.
The crowd is composed mainly of young kids, young girls and their families and people with a need to be part of something big and showy, empty and non-productive. Its distraction, deviation from reality to a big, big scale.
I felt sooo uncomfortable for most of it. I felt shame whenever a celebrity turned up or was mentioned, the crowd went w-i-l-d. WHY???
This culture has certain old unwritten rules on privacy and on repressing feelings... you have to keep and 'stiff upper lip' and be calm and look like a expression-less fish. This kind of events are escapism but not a healthy one, its not good to get those feelings out and showing emotions by shouting at a screen and creating paper idols. its sense-less.
I can appreciate artists and music, definitely, i love it, im not bitter, what I complaining about is how the herd feeds of fast entertainment in response to a lack of real direction.
THAT'S THE PROBLEM.
England, London are places with masses of opportunity for education, self-improvement even, but its too convenient for the mainstream media to keep us all stupid. This must sound like a cliche but its true. They like you when you're stupid, because you're more willing to give your money away in exchange of short term satisfaction. Like a drug the xfactor numbs you.and all that crowd, all those faces are there just to 'like' stuff and give money. tv watchers give them money.
The irony in my case lays in that all those 10.000 faces pay for my education. My step dad gets paid from the sponsorship company, very down the line, as an anonymous business man, and then me, i get the money and buy my own stuff and complain about the stupidity of it all. would I like it more if my money came from a different source? ABSOLUTELY.
x
azile

Given heartbreak

You don't get anything until you are... erm... given it.
You don't wait, waiting is an illusion, you really just prepare yourself. You make your body/mind/self/anything ready for whatever it is that comes next. Because it is nothing but a surprise. An awaited birthday and Christmas, every time. In my case... It came in the shape of an unexpected mini heartbreak. Oh did I not Expect to give it all away and stay trembling in the light of a boy who doesn't care. Not me. I have seen it all pretty much. I still remain naive. Now I sit in the light of a monitor knowing nothing but to spill what his brief visit to my insides did to me. If it stopped being his birthday (right now) for a very short time... and I could go back to my careless facce... and saying that that is a bad topic is a light. inspiration comes back in the shape of a rhyme or a rap. complexity of feelings, or future destiny and mind. so sharp. I always ignored what caused me harm, as the natural reaction that I think everyone does... I expected for him like valleys expect water. I gave him so much, but premature flowers never get to fill the quota. I am a lonely pioneer. Expect the new frontier and kip-nap all that's dear. Only alone I will ail the pain. Oh yes, it is you and me, we meet, again.

And his name is....

The first time I saw him when I got off the plane,
was when I knew, I would never be the same
and everything started with his scent.
He smelt of fog and fags
as the gentleman he is, he offered me a cab
he looked centuries old,
tall and historic
far to old for me, but well kept and heroic,
but when I got to know his corners,
he was a teenager doing graffiti
and a good skate boarder.
He took me to the same first dates, he surely takes all the others,
he shows his achievement and calls himself a monument holder.
He has plenty of jewels under a lock
and I'm sure everyone has seen his great big clock...
and his gardens are well kept,
worthy of a queen, he said.
He knows everything when it comes to the arts,
but when you get to know him better, you find he's also involved in gangs.
Its impossible to look at him and not fall in love...
he is tolerant and makes you feel at home
something about him makes you never get bored
and if you ride the tube, you find in his singularity,
every face and every story in the world.
He shines in the summer and stands proud,
he likes to seat in pub gardens and cue with crowds.
Just like me he loves music,
seeing him hold parties in the park is the most amusing.
When it comes to business he set a side of himself for it.
He wears a suit and stands tall,
I haven't yet cracked his billionaire number world.
He drinks larger and likes to party all night
he has a corner for every princess and every rat
and together we get lost and dance....
If you have money and you have him,
nothing is an impossibility.
Most days he goes to work hung over
and his dry sense of humour makes you feel lower,
but you have to understand his dark charm
to fall in love and get a flat, in his arm.
We moved in together,
his bad mood causes bad weather,
he takes far too much of my money,
some days makes me feel like its not worth it,
but then he insists and he is always on time
and I slave myself, just to be with him again.
But don't get me wrong, I'm not a masochist,
its just that with him,any dream can exist!
He makes you beautiful, he has everything I like,
he is packed with theaters and he is packed with brands
but he knows the rules in hand,
nothing with him is free...
I dance right in his hands but still feel free to be.
Some say he is unfriendly,
but I know this man
somewhere in him, there is space for everyone.
He speaks all languages and he also talks slang.
If you catch him angry he shouts in cockney
and he moves fast, fast for money.
He holds all the seriousness of an old gentleman on his shoulders,
but he makes you draw outside the boarders.
I'm afraid that if you make me choose,I will not let him loose
the sunniest beaches don't compare to his melancholy.
He's survived black death,
he survived chicken pox
and dare I say, also a few bombs,
and his name is....
well his name is LONDON.

azile x
photo by Ian Veretilo

the marathon results....

to see the previous posts results, visit my other blog, never too late's sister, the neon suitcase: http://neonsuitcase.blogspot.com/

Ready?No.GO!

Today my art marathon has started. I did a painting today after a long time. It felt amazing. I spent my whole Sunday night sitting on the floor painting. Kanye West's Lights Flashing was the perfect soundtrack for the finishing of the painting. The London MArathon was ran today too. Art-Marathon it is. It has started. Ready? No... GO!

Queens in the making

Isolation. Because the world around you does nothing but confuse you. You forgot what your own voice sounds like. You talk in movie quotes, slogans, old quotes, new quotes, streaming slang, anything.. but your thoughts. My thoughts, you think, and that makes you want to shut down. Hybernate. Plainly hide. Spend some much needed time, an eternity perhaps, with yourself. But that turns into a trap, if you immerse yourself too much into your self. So much that both the words you say and the words you hear in reply have the same tone, the same music, and come from the same mouth. You stop recognizing the world outside, the solid things that you fought for, desired, craved or feared...
Then you stop recognizing your own body. Your own hands look foreign... Your thoughts drift so, so far away.
I got out and paid a high price for a decent conversation. I gave up my kingdom. I let my bubble kingdom burst. That apple of knowledge looked so tasty. I thought I could do better if I knew better.
But what for do we need know more words to articulate the same feeling of being lost, loneliness, human-ness. Isolation threatens to be the only exit again. Run.
I remained a queen in the making, blow me another bubble. Waiting to conquer the inventions and questions of ancient minds. Craving the ideas built on ideas of ideas of ideas of bodies that don't even recognise themselves.
Needless words... I pursue your crown and not the crown of gold.
Daydream into a higher dream, day dream into can, want, wish.
I now pride myself in not trying normality, in not being grounded, in being alone and almost permanently misunderstood. Shine with your alien halo. Beautiful. I walk not knowing where I go. Walk.
That's when you let yourself know that you have a chase, to the kingdom of truth.
There are no castles, let alone buildings. Only uncertainty and an empty field, as vast as imagination can push it. Infinite. Filled up with nothing but potentiality, what will be? Let anything be. Possibilities fill your mind like water water the watery plant, a stream of possibilitites. That mind cant recognize its own hands, its own body, its own instrument of existence.
I wanted to tell you how I feel, but my mouth needs no human ears... it needs a heavenly microphone to shout out till my voice is gone and there's is nothing but silence, silence is the only answer now.
She will be queen, he will be king and then they will vanish and disappear, and progress will be a good name to tag the legacy of confusion they left us.

Give it a go today

you say its hard to get up from bed,
it seems that once you get used to something,
its time to change...
you drag yourself around, like a bag full of pains,
you don't want to look up, in case it rains...
you wrap yourself in layers of all kinds of stuff,
thicker and thicker each time,
not just in case of the cold
but you run from the touch of love.
you frown so much,
your forehead looks like a tree bark,
you are afraid of fires when you see sparks...
you do the same thing, again and again
and postpone your dreams, put them up in shelves
you walk around feeling small, tiny like an elf
I tell you, I ask you
give it a go today
don't drag your feet, run instead
stop looking for the sky on the floor, lift your head
don't frown any more, flirt and smile
sit on a sledge and let life slide.
to be numb is not better than to feel pain,
to be numb is to waste a heart, a life, time and a brain...
go out get messy, get some stains
dont stay in that bubble of cyclic thoughts
im here today, give it a go
you can go back to bed tomorrow if you didnt like the taste,
but please i beg you, dont turn your life into a waste.

Sometimes

Sometimes you just got to admit it to yourself, you need to stop working for somebody else.
Stop selling so cheap the precious seconds that life is made of. I want to know the stuff that you are made of.
Yes, I got somewhere and I did it all by myself, I said,
but I wasn't alone, not for one second of the game.
You need eyeballs in every side of your head,
don't miss the parallel stories, don't loose the plot
you might have to catch that train to remain sane,
come on, fill the spot.
As we keep playing the trading game,
we trade remarks, laughs, smiles, livers and brains we trade,
I keep thinking I'm too aware to loose myself.
Yes, to know the stuff that dreams are made of,
show me the stuff that keeps them close.
Once you get there you'll be happy for ever,
keep telling that to yourself
the biggest fattest lie Ive ever heard...
Sometimes I use some days just to let my thoughts breathe and they go for walks,
It may seem strange as this doesn't happen in the outside world,
But if I went to the street with my mind on a leash,
I would certainly choke.
The rain falls constant and steady,
follows a pace, as if the one before was ready
committing suicide against the windshield, pointless.
It looks like what the passing of time feels like.
DROP, SECOND, DROP, SECOND, DROP...
I offered my hand, again and again
they grabbed my elbow, whose to blame?
Sometimes I imagine,
what a soldier in the front line must feel like
you hurt like a bullet, straight to the heart.
You tried to grab time and keep it,
you spent every waking second
transforming empty instants into empty actions,
playing with the sand of time with no ratios.
You could not pace yourself,
you had to jump, straight ahead in the race...
You're running out of fuel,
but you still remained first
still vain and scared to age.
You told me that I should leave you to figure things out for yourself,
all I see now is a robot,
that doesn't make his bed.
You keep trying to lock time,
but time is fate,
it chases your ankles, not your success.
No jar can contain it,
No place can contain you
and no mind can contain me.
You ran away, again
I'm not going to wait for you... like a snail waiting for an arrow
your scape was narrow
but you lost your compass on the way.
Sometimes there is no place for a paced heart beat in your game.