The Fat Tax

Ryan Air is thinking of charging a 'fat-tax' for overweight passengers. They say because us big people will touch the one next to us. Go on I say, I wouldn't mind buying two tickets, but then just because of the fat policy I would never go on Ryan Air anyway. How about charging a 'stinky-tax'? Because some passengers reek of onion, I've had to sit right through a flight to London with a passenger whose body odour was so bad it made me retch. Or how about a black and white tax? Perhaps I do not want the passenger sitting next to me to be black or white for fear my arms would be touching them. Or a retarded-tax policy? Or a baby-tax policy? I would hate having a mum change a diaper right next to me ( and yes I've seen it happening) while I'm having my coffee. And what about an ugly-tax? A frumpy-tax? A priest/nun tax? A Jew tax? A Libyan tax? And about the fat tax, are Ran Air about to employ people with a measuring tape to measure people before they go on board? Or are they weighing them? And what if one big man or woman decides to introduce the 'smash-your-face' policy? We would only be throwing what is legitimately ours... our weight. Because it's ours and we carry it and it's none of your fucking business thank you very much. RyanAir actually rhymes with... BEWARE!

Belonging

Should I feel excited about tomorrow? Yes, I should. Am I? No, not really. Why? Because some people are silent kill-joys. And that's the hardest part of it, the fact that they are silent, unobtrusive and smile as if they were your best friend. Tomorrow will be nothing as difficult in comparison to the countless things I've done in life. But somehow days like tomorrow make me feel good, excited and so so satisfied. I am not talking about the Prosit tal-programm kind of comments. If I had it my way I'd do my stuff and just scurry off before the people start coming out and go home. That is antisocial me and I don't take kindly to change. It is an actual feat for me to know that I will be getting to meet people. But I try. It doesn't come easy, but I still try. Because although I turn social in the kingdom of little people, its difficult in the kingdom of adult people and all their accumulated baggage. Tension will also run high, and I am not about to become the one who people dump their tension on. Somehow, tension is a word I can never understand because I never experience it. As antisocial as I am I do not get tense, I only get afraid in a big gathering, but never tense. I guess the music underworld helps in that respect. You get tense during your first concert, when you've done some 400 of them, they become so very normal. And I am happy to perform, but I am not happy to stay for the praise. So like my mum. And so not like my dad. I could be the ostrich which drowns its head in the ground. My dad would be the colourful peacock who struts showing off all his colours. That different. But I must keep trying. And I must keep trying to learn some lessons off the school stage. Because the world is not very different to a jungle. And yet we must belong.

Red

I don't know what it is that makes a man angry, but my frail brain thinks that a lot of it is fuelled by suspicion. It was the same in the time of Adam and Eve, Napoleon and Josephine, Adolf and Eva, and ... today's man and woman.Some things never change, or better put; the world may have taken giant steps in so many spheres, but mankind remains the same. I have no answer as to why, it just is. And many a time it is unfair, yet it holds just the same. It is impossible for any man, as fit as they might be, to climb a flight of stairs in less time needed to say 'oh fuck!', well I know one man who can actually do that, but he is not in my picture as I write. And perhaps sometimes we should calm down and try and see it as it is; not as we think it is, and certainly not as we have made to think it is. I may look funny, seem weird and eccentric, but I do not fuel a man's anger just to bask in the glory of what? And there it goes again, it's a woman's world after all, the world of a woman who feeds on power but no glory. Behind a man who throws his weight around is a woman who throws her weight around better than him. Watch it because behind a man who barks is a woman who bites. It's all about role play which goes way beyond the safe, thought-free role play in s and M. People who suddenly see red are just the same as the partitarji Laburisti. They also see red. I see my own kind of red and have made my house one towering inferno. So I see enough tangible red, I don't need to see the metaphorical red. And then there are the shades of red. Although alas, they are all red. I'm still thinking why and how. Will get back later.