RIP Alexander McQueen

Alexander McQueen was found dead this morning in his London apartment after apparently committing suicide.
With one month until the release of his next name, "McQ", set to be revealed in Paris, he called it quits. It isn't yet verified that the cause was suicide but rumours have been spread that he was found hanging from his ceiling, only nine days after the death of his mother.
It was apparent by the interactions with his closest peers and even by his twitter updates that he was extremely distraught by her loss.
He was only 40 years old.
He pulled the London scene out of it's turmoil in the late 70's after the punk movement and added his fantasy, avant-garde, deranged and delicate fixtures to the scene, working for various designers until eventually opening his own name in 1993.
He was even was recognized by the Queen in 2003, when she made him a Commander of the British Empire for his fashion leadership.
Being a genius is hard because people will keep expecting you to do genius things.

Did I miss something?

For those of you who don't know...

California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger is to carry the Olympic torch Friday morning on a final relay before the opening ceremony for the Vancouver Games.

Olympic organizers said Schwarzenegger will help carry the torch around Stanley Park before handing it off just after 7 a.m. to two-time British Olympic gold medalist Sebastian Coe, who is also chairman of the London 2012 organizing committee.

I'm not sure I see the relevance to anything.
He's the Governor General of California AND he tried to step down...
Is this Terminator some kind of intimidation factor for the anticipated terrorists?
It's sort of a slap in the face for me to see that he's carrying the torch through Stanley Park, kind of a very Vancouverish thing.
And I'm not even that gung-ho about the olympics.
It seems that they've put him in a very important position for our olympics.

Cat Head

My friend Evil Patrick Shannon took this photo.
I sure love it.
Sorry if the person or the cat in the photo stumble across this and feel weird like I'm pretending to be your friends.

Check out more of his work www.evilpatrick.ca

Good Cat

Just thought it was really important that I share this with everyone.
She's been fabulous since the surgical alteration.
And sleeping with me and having really weird fits of REM sleep that jiggles my whole bed.
It's actually really weird to watch...

MARC'd

Spring '10 (ready-to-wear) line for Marc Jacobs!
Tasteful, alluring and inexplicably sexy modesty.
Lots of leg.
Strained whispers of summer-to-come.
Celebrate pale!
Original patterns.
Alice in Wonderland bows!
Gladiators, silk, patent and canvas pieds.
Warning: may contain traces of the 70's.

It's so surprisingly wearable for me, for you, for your grandma, for your butler.

Uh oh...

Is it just me or does this give implication of rape?
Anyone?
Does this stiletto not look like a knife too close to - what Mom taught me in "Love and Life" - the place 'under your bathing suit' that that only doctors, parents and lovers should see?
And the concrete, flash-filled background is sort of daunting as well.
Sure the shoes are hot hot hot, but the direction of the photo is so distracting.
Agghhh okay, I know sex sells.
But rape shouldn't.

Black History Month

Yesterday marks the beginning of Black History month which is February.
It seems that now-a-days there are months for a lot of things.
The month of Mary, Drug and Alcohol Awareness Month, Plumber's month, Secretary's Month, How-to-clean-up-cat-pee-most-effectively-off-various-kinds-of-furniture - month and other great months.
But I think this one is really one to be taken seriously.
Recognize it, read about it, educate yourself - even a little bit.
Give thought to race as a whole - where people came from, what they experience on a day-to-day basis and what sorts of prejudices you have about those races however explicit or implicit they may be. And put them to the test.
Calling on Audre Lorde:

"I am a Black Feminist. I mean I recognize that my power as well as my primary oppressions come as a result of my blackness as well as my womaness, and therefore my struggles on both of these fronts are inseparable."

or maybe just watch Malcolm X,
or check out Tupac's 'Black Cotton' lyrics:

Black Cotton - A symbol for unrewarded struggle
Time for a little gospel tail
Ghetto gospel that is- listen
Robbin' Black Cotton in God's eyes
Speak

Black Cotton
Steady stressin' Smith and Wessons count my blessin's
Class is in session the worst question is the first question
Why do we work like slaves sweatin' blades to an early grave
Never got paid but still we slave (In the nine tre')
Answer that then answer this too-
Loves gonna get ya you know it's true life's a bitch true
You best to backtrack and try to act black and live
Not to be phony and positive but why be negative?
What's the matter G? Black cat got your tongue
Fat track gotcha sprung now your hung (Do ya feel me?)
Dum dum diddy is it me?
Attempt to reach each and every brother on the streets
If not peace then at least let's get a piece
I'm tired of seeing bodies on the streets- deceased
Lookin' through my highschool yearbook
Reminiscin' of the tears as the years took
One homie, two homie, three homies - POOF
We used to have troops but now there's no more youth to shoot
God come save the misbegotten
Lost ghetto souls of Black Cotton (In God's eyes)

Nobody don't care
(No matter how hard I try/Look to the sky/and I ask God why)
Nobody don't care
(Seems like my dreams/Drowned in by screams/No answer to my questions)
Nobody don't care
(Feels like I'm pressed/Why do I stress?/It's like I'm being tested)
Nobody don't care
(Seems like my prayers/Vanish to thin air/Please answer my questions)
Nobody don't care

In the belly of the beast I'm bubbling up
Running out of luck, about to self destruct
Old heads say live your life like such
Your sure to catch her witcha one day boy
I wouldn't listen to 'em
Your power movement was cool
But it ain't fix nothin'
So I just go with what i know
I dont trust none
Look what the 80's did
To what's Bebe's kids
And now we grown up
Nobody ain't own us yet

Black cotton, I'm plottin' on what they owe me
I'm workin' without a profit
They shacklin' all my homies
I'm hurtin' but keep the mind
And we ain't stop, its cutains, you try to rise and
Certainly we survive with Outlaw Ridas
What's the reward for a strugala
If the lord lovin' us then why they hate to see us comin' up
Runnin up, Gun cocked like nasty gloves
If you aint got a penny, mind the glove
No love
Waitin' for my 40 acas and a blunt to blaze
Biblicle times good hearts with milita minds
Black Cotton - I'm hoppin' over enemy lines
Black Cotton - I ain't stoppin' till they givin me mine

or re-cap on Rosa Parks' HUGE influence on the Civil Rights Movement,
or pay a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t by tuning in to Aretha Franklin or Billie Holiday,
or look closer at the recent discussions and acts of Obama who is making black history in front of our eyes, whether positive or negative.

Bus Karma

So I was in Victoria last weekend and got on a bus, paid my fare, stuffed my transfer in my wallet which I shoved under my armpit, and quickly proceeded to the upper deck of the bus.
I got off about half an hour later, to wait at this stop for 50 minutes.
I walked to the DQ across the street for somewhere warmer to read, and decided not to get anything.
I crossed the street 45 minutes later, just in time for my bus and got on.
I was fumbling with my backpack to find my wallet and the driver said, "Oh, don't worry about it. I believe you have it" *happy face*.
So I went upstairs again and was still looking for my wallet with my transfer.
I was frantically fingering through my bag and my backpack, and rushed downstairs.
The driver saw me and said,
"Did you find it? I said you didn't have to worry about it" to which I responded
"No, I have to get off, I think I lost my wallet."
So he pulled over on the side of the road, gave me a free transfer and directed me
to the last stop.
50 minutes of waiting to drive two blocks and have to walk back.
It was cold, my phone was dying.
I had to catch the next bus for sure to make the ferry to meet my friend and get home.
I had no numbers, no money, no I.D. and bad shoes.
I disrupted a couple at DQ to see if I could crawl around under their table. They giggled as I sobbed beneath their Peanut Buster Parfaits, banging my head on the table.
I hobbled back to the shelter to wait another 50 minutes.
After five minutes in the cold, I started accepting loss.
I made a list of everything that was in my wallet on the back of a paycheque envelope in my bag and looked at it.
There was:
real I.D., fake I.D., sin card, douglas student card, debit card, library card, starbucks card, sephora card, coquitlam centre card, love letters, rollies, a bunch of change, $35 worth of cash, a receipt to return boots I bought, a bunch of business cards, a drink umbrella, 8ish bus tickets, marble slab coupons and probably some other things.
It didn't take long for me to forget about it and know it was out of my control.
Mid-thought:
a homeless-looking man with a pony tail started talking to me. He was telling me about his day at work as a steel fabricator and how he really loves working. He continued to discuss the four wives that he's had and how every single one of them has left him for another man even though he treats them like gold. He just loves work so much, so he spends a lot of time doing it. And it wasn't even about the money. He threw all his money at his wives, made them happy, gave them things - anything.
He fidgeted to get out a little black book so he could tell me his phone number in case I ever got in trouble in Victoria again (after I told him I lost my wallet), and how he always protects his friends. Most people thought him an asshole but really, he only has a select group of people he cared about and do anything for.
He asked me if I had a smoke, I didn't.
He went up to a guy at the stop and asked if he could buy two smokes off him, the guy said
"Two?!" and Andy (was his name) said
"Yeah, one's for my friend".
So we smoked together until his bus came.
He dropped his smoke and boarded.
Another homeless guy got off the bus, picked up the still-ambering smoke and put it in his mouth, assuming the seat next to me.
He asked me if I was a model, told me I could be if I took my nose ring out. And I told him he could be too (haha) and then he got defensive. I told him I was joking and he said he knew I was joking but why was that funny? Wasn't he good-looking enough?
Then he clarified that he wasn't hitting on me - he had a wife at home two blocks away that he loved more than the entire world. She was 42, beautiful and had a laugh that sounded like birds.
He had two cats, thinks people are mean and was surprised to find good conversation these days.
He offered me a beer, I declined - my bus was coming.
He leaned into his sack that hung from a wire rack and pulled out a Lucky beer.
We had a cheers, I thanked him, finished my drink and got on the bus.
No time seemed to have passed.
I sat down in my seat and couldn't wipe the smile off my face.