Friday, February 22, 2013

mean girls

a yoga class is a whole new level of mean girls. a room full of (mostly) women, supposedly all attending with the common goal of achieving spiritual harmony and all, beaming evil "i got here before you" half-smiles to fellow yogateers, showing off mediocre stretches to intimate they take private lessons on the side, and flashing the lululemon logo around like it's the prada triangle.
they show up to a yoga class with a full face of makeup, soldered onto their faces and sealed with aqua net, to ensure nothing drips as they're downward dogging, sit on their mat for pre-class banter, and position themselves atop a perky butt, boobs safely held behind the latest overpriced lululemon biodynamic yoga crop top and perform their warm-up stretches, reaffirming their mat placement every few stretches with a sly look that canvasses every square inch of the room.

yogabitches. ain't nobody got time fah dat.


Thursday, February 21, 2013


a thought crossed my mind today, and after i analysed it in my true, over-analysing fashion, i was quite happy with the diagnosis: if madonna were to ask me to dinner, i would not be nervous. i figured i am an interesting person--i am interesting--i am unique, and i have quite a story of my own to tell, so just because i'm not madonna doesn't mean i can't be appealing to madonna. ('cause that's basically what would give someone about to meet madonna a hemorrhoid). although we do have plenty in common. i am opinionated, loud, yet somewhat refined. so there's that.

i would most likely give her the liberty to begin the conversation, out of gallant consideration, of course, as well as the curiosity over the fact that she asked me to dinner (which is the way i saw it happening. this is my fantasy, remember). it would most likely be a result of something noteworthy i had done, like the book i would have written, that got her attention. and, as she is madonna, she fed her thirst to know more about the fascinating person that captured such attention, using the ubiquitous power of being madonna to simply request the presence of the person or the wordsmith or whatever, fully knowing they would respond positively and promptly.

i'd definitely tell her about the BRYANAMBITION phase and the senior thesis that hatched the phenomenon, but only after a certain amount of of alcohol had been consumed and allowed to work its magic because, after all, there's a certain threshold surrounding that woman that isn't surmountable without a little social lubricant. she's like medusa. she won't turn you to stone, but she can make the testicles reascend (another expectation of mine). ain't nobody got time for that!


where do i begin...

where do iiiii staaaaaart?

so it's been ages, and for good reason! i moved to a different country. shit's hard. and stressful. nuclear stressful. 

but after so much thought, procrastination, deliberation, and hesitation (in no particular order), i decided to finally start blogging again. i went through this phase where i thought, "why would anyone want to read what i have to write?" despite the fact that the gilded tongue is over 220 entries old. i suppose this phase was spurned by the relentless wave of "who gives a shit" statuses i read each time i check into Facebook. more specifically, the ones where people felt the need to rub in their good fortune, like "NYC to LAX in my favourite seat, Delta A1!" and the only people who actually comment are their "friends" who live in said writer's sad little hometown who are more jealous of than happy for them, but manage to passive-aggressively express both under the guise of a bland "have fun, mate!" (as if anyone in america ever says "mate," but if there's anything i've learned from living abroad, it's that americans tend to supplement their speech with foreign words and accents in times of shyness or anxiety, as if acting a part gives them temporary reprise from...nevermind). i just got myself in a bit of a tizzy explaining all of this, which serves as proof of the very entity that stood between my brilliant mind and my shaky fingers.

but back i am, i hope, and i feel lighter of mind, warmer of heart and, shall we say, possess shoes with bigger treads that allow me to easily trample over, rather than muddle in, the angst that drove a lot of what i wrote before.

so i shall say what comes to my mind without believing one day it will make a great book because, even though it might, that's not living in the present, and i didn't just spend £32 on a new meditation cushion to be thinking about some big publishing company payout that may or may not happen and allow it to stifle my speech. 

to the veterans, welcome back. to the newcomers, strap it on or snap it in or whatever one would do to secure oneself, 'cause it's going to be a bumpy ride. to all, thank you for being here. i am happy and honoured that you care what i have to say.

bmli ;-)