I don’t even know why I started singing that day. Boredom probably. Standing, hustling, shouting, trying to get a joke to catch a customer.
“One pound fish, One pound fish”
No one was biting.
All you ever need is just a second of time. A moment’s eye glance is enough. It’s like all the pop songs. If you have a hook, you’re all good, straight to the top of the charts for you.
That day the guy on the next stall, Phil, he’d been catching all the customers for approximately the last hour. I was getting sick and tired of him not hustling and while I was hustling. I wanted to hear some “lovely apples, come get yer lovely apples” to go with my “One pound fish”. I looked him dead in the eye and my fish chant just went up a tone. I had just enough time to see his eyebrows move slightly upwards and sideways, so I just kept it going. It’s just like talking to people really. Except you don’t need to halt your customer catching for just one person - you can keep winding them all in together.
“Have a look, have a look”
“One pound fish”
I like the singing now, it gets me customers. But what happens when I get bored of the singing?
None of this post was written or said by the actual one pound fish man.
Janelle Monae is the coolest woman out there. She is singlehandedly representing a different side of womanhood , of black womanhood, that is being completely missed out of mainstream popular culture. And what’s more, she’s totally rocking out doing it.
Her video for Tightrope is incredible (and was nominated for best choreography at the VMAs). No writhing around - no sexy dancing up against a man that makes me squirm in my feminist seat, no matter how much I might enjoy the song, because my brain can’t stop saying “Woah. Problem here”.
I’d like to think that Janelle is aware of her position at the vanguard of just generally being fucking cool and messes with this position. Let’s compare Janelle’s institutional corridor dance sequence in Tightrope with that most hallowed of institutional corridor dance sequences - Britney Spear’s Hit Me Baby One More Time.
The outfits alone say so much. Brit’s shirt is struggling to stay on her body (and this is before everyone got all interested in whether or not she had a boob job). Janelle’s - well I’m not sure anyone could guess whether she’d had a boob job between one music video and the next. COOL.
Brit’s dance sequence is all innocent shimmying and earnest eyes. Janelle is having the fricking time of her life and she knows what’s up. ‘Yeah, I’m shaking my foot in the air as if that’s an actual dance move, what of it? Do I care whether men think this attractive or not? Don’t make me laugh.’
I also want to compare Janelle Monae’s significance as a black woman, to another black woman often held up as ’feminist’ - Nicki Minaj. Nicki Minaj is out there dissing afro hair, as one commenter on Racialicious pointed out.
On her song ”Did it on Em” she said, “these Lil Nappy Headed Hoes Need A Perminator.” On “Stupid Hoe” which is repeated by millions daily and has millions of hits on Youtube she said “yall nappy headed hos but my kitchen good” meaning she has and is elevating euro textured tresses over afrotextured tresses.
Janelle’s hair doesn’t look like a white girl’s and she’s not insulting those who have the same hair as her. Nicki 0-1 Janelle.
Add this to the fact that Janelle’s songs manage to avoid painting herself as a brothel madam, or pole dancer. There’s only so far we can go with ‘playing with society’s ideas’ about gender by embodying them. So woop for the road less travelled.
Plus, she hasn’t identified as either gay or straight, saying she prefers androids (#hot). I don’t care who she sleeps with, if anyone, and neither should you. She’s saying the same thing all the way from her spats to what comes out of her mouth: I’m relying on my talent, not my body and love life, to get me where I want to be. There’s no confusion, no ambiguity of what her words mean, no saying you’re into powerful women and then obstructing the progress of feminism at every turn.
What a record label boss had to say about her, on first seeing her Myspace page
[He] loved her look, loved that you couldn’t see her body, loved the way she was dancing, and just loved the vibe. He felt like she has something that was different - something new and fresh. (From Wikipedia)
I’d love to say that this shows how great and welcoming the record industry generally is towards women who aren’t into being objectified (I’m going to give you some time to get your breath back after laughing yourself silly). It’s clear that the label boss liked her because she was different from everything else out there, and this was refreshing. Wouldn’t it be so great though, if one day, a label boss were to look at a female singer’s Myspace page that didn’t show off her tits and ass, and were to say - you know what I’ve seen this all before.
And that’s why Janelle Monae needs to hurry back onto the music scene sharpish. So that we can all get so neutralised to this idea of a woman dancing non-sexy that it becomes part of the wallpaper, part of the scenery, just something you see around a lot - just like sexualised images of women’s bodies are in music videos at the moment. Janelle, much as I love you, it’s time to get boring.
Buildings, cities and water fountains that are hallowed institutions in the US are actually about as old as your local ASDA.
2. Be a smart shopper: make sure you buy stuff in the right state.
Just like knowing that Tesco does the cheapest wine and Sainsbury’s the cheapest chocolate (don’t judge my shopping habits), things are different prices in different states. I know, I know, it’s only one country - that’s what I said, but Mr Sainsbury wouldn’t look too kindly on that argument would he? So buy your cigarettes in Massachusetts ($8) before you get to New York ($14).
3. Headphones are not an adequate defence against people talking to you.
Person: “Hey, how’s it going? Where are you from?”
Me, in my head: “Why is this person talking to me? Can’t they see I’m clearly wearing headphones thus not obligated to talk to them. Ignore. I could have really loud music on for all they know.”
Person (waving): “Hey, why don’t you take your headphones out? I was just wondering where you’re from?”
No, No, NO. Headphones=I’m busy. Headphones=I get to be alone now. Headphones=I don’t have to answer any of your questions or think of interesting questions to ask you in return.
4. Americans don’t have ‘phone voices’.
So you know when you have to call up someone you don’t know and you semi-subconsciously enunciate all your words more than usual? Americans don’t do that. Speaking clearly is a full time commitment.
There are some things that just make you so deliriously happy that it’s not really worth thinking about what the implications for your political stance they are on.
Some of these for me are:
Shiny leggings with fun patterns. (from Black Milk)
Honestly, if you knew the sheer joy that courses through me on experiencing each of these marvels, you’d know it’s not relevant that nail varnish is an patriarchal concept designed to make women’s hands unsuited to doing “man’s” work like building architectural models and signing important documents. You wouldn’t judge me for prancing round a bar covered in sequins like an ACTUAL FRICKING DISCO BALL/fish. And you wouldn’t even question whether Azealia should be calling people a cunt when she’s a woman and cunt totally shouldn’t be derogatory.
Also, I don’t particularly care whether galaxy legs appeal more to men or women and whether either of those is wrong, because, I have space on my legs, which, hello, can only be a good thing. QED.
This week is when womens’ magazines truly go into meltdown mode. Valentine’s week (yep, in magazineland it lasts seven times the normal amount of time just to drag out the pain) is the week when you not only need to be told what to do with your career, wardrobe, face, hair, anti-ageing and fitness regime, but also you must be with a man. Now, magazine peeps aren’t completely insane (ummm…), so you don’t need to actually be in a relationship for Valentine’s Day, you just need to have a dashing man on the horizon on whom you can pin all of your happiness for that week. So don’t worry, Single Ladies, you’re still totally included in the guilt-inducement (Wooo! This is gonna be soooo much fun).
For instance, if you haven’t heard from someone you gave your number to a few weeks ago, THIS is the week to really freak out about it. If he can’t even invite you to a weekend jaunt to at least a five star hotel, buy you some blingin’ jewellery that you will probs hate, fill your whole desk up with flowers (I’m not going to insult your intelligence by telling you the only acceptable variety) this week, of all weeks, he can’t really like you at all. So, basically you fail - go straight to Plan B (see bottom).
If you’re in a relationship, lucky you! We’ve saved the best guilt trips especially for you. What do you like doing with your partner? Write a list. Now make sure on the 14th of February, you do none of them. Instead, try to focus on shit like candles and massage oil so that you don’t have to think about what he really thinks of your cuticles like you do the rest of the year. Make sure he feels awful the entire day and knows that whatever he does will be a massive disappointment, sort of like a birthday that only he is required to turn up to. Congrats if somehow he manages to not drop dead under the strain. If he does, sucks for you – head to Plan B.
Plan B – listen to the cheesiest melancholic ballads you can find, drink too much wine (unless you’re the kind of so-called ‘woman’ that prefers beer or spirits. Er, what’s wrong with you? #notarealwoman), weep into a bowl of really fattening things that you don’t even like the taste of, just because you hate yourself/all men hate you. Most of all, you must feel sad and be drunk, because being Bridget Jones singing ‘All By Myself’ is the only way that it is acceptable to not be with a man you’re sexually interested in, today of all days.
Here’s a conversation I had with my housemate Rich last week about dying and shit. (we’re a real barrel of laughs in our house)
Me: Thing is, when you’re going to die, it’ll just be like the end of a really great night out. Your feet will be tired from dancing too much, you’ll have spent all your money and have drunk all you possibly can. It’ll be like, ‘OK, time to go home now’
Rich: But what about getting a kebab on the way home? I don’t want to go out if I can’t get food on the way back Josie.
Often, when you’re reading an article in a newspaper or magazine, you end up thinking “How cool is this awards party/play/fashion show that I’m reading about! Man do I wish I’d been invited”.
I guess a lot of the time that’s because you’re just not famous enough to get invited and couldn’t buy tickets even if you wanted to. But how’s this for the ultimate event you weren’t invited to:
John Cage had also picked up on all these ideas [about communication]. He convened weekly dinners during which he tried them out, as well as his mushroom recipes, on a group of young artists, poets and writers. I was fortunate to have been included at these dinners where we talked about media, communications, art, music, philosophy, the ideas of McLuhan and Norbert Wiener. McLuhan had pointed out that by inventing electric technology, we had externalised our central nervous systems; that is, our minds.
John Brockman, founder of Edge.org, interviewed for the Observer 8 January 2012.
Not only would I frickin love to have tried John Cage’s mushroom risotto, but I also think I would be an excellent listener-of-amazing-ideas. I might even be able to make the odd contribution (yes, it probably would consist of “Um, yeah, you’re so right”, what of it?).
So here’s the dilemma. If you want to be invited to a fashion show, you go work at a fashion magazine. Fancy going to a party with celebrities? Go scam your way in/become a PR/work as a waiter as a posh club.
Now, can someone, anyone please tell me how the fuck to get into John Cage’s dinner parties?
Man watches his mother go into a magician’s box of knives, which she never comes out of. Days later, she turns up as a celestial body, nagging and finger wagging in front of the whole of New York. Takes mother-hating to a whole new level.
A distinct non-headedness in which a disturbing amount of stuff happens without the patient actually having anything to say about it. Symptoms include gazing into space, sluggishness and a penchant for procrastination. This can affect those who suffer from this condition particularly over the festive period, or at times of especially good tv scheduling.
House with a heartbeat: Hannes Fischer x Oliver Tank
Lovely glockenspiel and a cheeky bit of vocoder on a wobbly minimal techno beat. What more could you want from a remix?
Berlin DJ Hannes Fischer clearly thinks so - his sweet reworking of Aussie Oliver Tank’s Up All Night is emotionalectro (yes I just coined a phrase there, no big deal).
Listen to this on the nightbus home with someone special.
