solitary lovers

i just couldn't resist, here's LIO's "Amoureux Solitaires"

she was like 17 back then! anyhew, here are the lyrics:

Eh toi dis-moi que tu m'aimes
hey you tell me that you love me
Même si c'est un mensonge et qu'on n'a pas une chance
even if it's a lie & we don't stand a chance
La vie est si triste, dis-moi que tu m'aimes
life is so sad, tell me that you love me
Tous les jours sont les mêmes, j'ai besoin de romance
everyday's the same, i need some romance

Un peu de beauté plastique pour effacer nos cernes
a bit of plastic beauty to erase the circles under my eyes
De plaisir chimique pour nos cerveaux trop ternes
chemical pleasures for our wilted brains
Que nos vies aient l'air d'un film parfait
so that our lives can resemble the perfect movie

Eh toi dis-moi que tu m'aimes
hey you tell me that you love me
Même si c'est un mensonge puisque je sais que tu mens
even if it's a lie since i know you're lying
La vie est si triste, dis-moi que tu m'aimes
life is so sad, tell me that you love me
Oublions tout nous-mêmes, ce que nous sommes vraiment
lets forget it all, even who we really are

Amoureux solitaires dans une ville morte
solitary lovers in a dead city
Amoureux imaginaires après tout qu'importe!
imaginary lovers what else matters
Que nos vies aient l'air d'un film parfait...
let our lives become the perfect movie...

La la la la la

belgique électronique

"belgique électronique" is pronounced "belle-zjeek elle-ehk-troh-neek"

meaning electronic belgium, the birthplace of technotronic haha!
OK, belgium also does the pop thing pretty well. here again, i give you LIO, belgian popstar since 1979 when her hit "banana split" took over the world, well mine at least... here's one of her biggest follow-up "sage comme une image" (pronounced "sah-zje cum un ee-mazje" meaning wise like an image). she was still a minor & sings about how she touches no one & no one touches her; she's just like a pic u look at, and that's where it end, cuz, u know, she's wise (or "untouched" & "uncorrupted" like an image on frozen paper haha). this is LIO's attempt to reassure us all that she's too young to be touched, and if you think she looks old enough it's just an affair of "maquillage" (mah-kee-ah-zje) i.e. make-up. uh-huh...

mickey-pooh & meggy-pooh

megan was in from new york city last week... awww!

i luv npr - to do list

check out A List Of To-Dos Before You Die
bonne nuit, m:)

keepon robot

I'M IN LOVE WITH A ROBOT:

ThanQ! pix 4 youie you

i really appreciate all the comments i've received via my blog or via my direct email. to indulge you in posting a pic of myself, here's one i don't mind posting for now. this was taken earlier in 07, with my 'addict' christian dior t-shirt my sista sara (my mother theresa) found for me:

kinda appropriate dontcha think???
since i found another one of caracas taken from the avila national park just above my former caracas residence, why not share it as well:

back in the 90s, caracas was surnamed 'irenelandia' aka the land of irene... irene saez was miss venezuela in 1980 then became miss universe 1981 before coming back to caracas. she took over the reigns as mayor of chacao , the district of caracas federal capital i lived in. imagine your mayor being a tall tan blonde supermodel looking creature who cleaned up the city, cleaned up the corruption within the police & military forces of the area & turned chacao into the safest & richest area in venezuela... now, fucking chavez and his elite of 'socialists' took over. as far as i'm concerned, chavez can suck castro's farts! for more on caracas, go back to a previous posting:
yoga \ chocolate / bridges

musique... only you!

france gall was the shit. i remember wanting to be her, how gay is that? the dancers who join in later in the video are the best!


here's the best video ever made by a drag queen, the incomparable Jer Ber Jones who was graciously introduced to me by philthy chorizo:

in love with klaus

in december of 1982, KLAUS NOMI performed Cold Song from Purcell's opera in Munich, the Bavarian capital. the audience was unaware that Klaus was suffering from AIDS. although frustrated with shortness of breath & fatigue, Klaus was determined to perform for his home crowd. this would be his last big performance. 6 months later, Klaus Nomi died in NYC. he was 39 years old. here you go:

earlier today i was listening to an old cd in the car, and Falling In Love Again was on it. i thought about how amazing he was, and how far our medical advances have gone since Klaus' untimely death. anyhew, here's the hysterical video to Falling In Love Again:

QUITO

conquistadores on pbs took me back to quito, ecuador, where i lived for 3 years. it made me so nostalgic. i loved it there. quito is the ancient capital of the northern realm of the inca empire, and today the capital of ecuador. i used to live in the area called "el quito tenis," as it was on the hillside at the foot of the active pichincha volcano around el buena vista tennis club where i spent more time poolside than on the courts! rather exclusive for local standards, the club was only 300 feet or so down the street from my house. it had the same view over the whole city than the one we had from the modern concrete block of a house i moved in. from the street side our new home looked like a massive brown bunker. i wasn't impressed... fortunately on the other side it was a 3 story high wall of glass offering a plunging view of the city below & the cotopaxi in the background. i loved it!!! only a 90 minute drive away from the city, the cotopaxi is often referred to as the highest active volcano in the world. our neighbors to one side were the uruguayan ambassador & his family; to the other side the cisneros family, the wealthiest mobsters in town. oh wait no, the cisneros were the biggest mobster family in caracas... i can't remember the family name of my quiteño neighbors anymore. i just remember how annoying it was when their younger kids drove their noisy as hell miniature ferraris up & down the street, and the scary german shepherds pacing & barking by the gates of their house... as my folks called it, here's the "golden cage" we lived in for 3 happy years:

here's a pic of quito and the pichincha volcano in the background:

and here's the view from my house with the cotopaxi volcano:

check out these closer angles of the inca's "throne of the moon:"


my mom & stepdad had settled in quito by june 1990 while my brothers & i spent a few more weeks on our own in brussels, then a month in oregon with my father & stepmother who had rented a place there on the beach. i can't remember much. but i remember flying back from oregon to belgium in late july for about 10 days. 10 days i spent with friends i realized i was leaving behind. 10 days where walking through the streets of brussels on my own, taking the metro or bus or tram on my own, became so intense. i saw things for the first time i had never seen before, because i was looking at everything more closely than i ever had. i appreciated it more --sometimes even for the first time-- now that i wasn't going to have all of it in my everyday life anymore. i was taking it all in one last time as the place i called my home for the previous 10 years of my life. i found myself choked up more than once. it hit me the hardest once the plane took off. i'll never forget that feeling of rupture when i felt the wheels of the plane suddenly hanging in the air instead of rolling on the ground. i was looking out the window to the belgian land as i had many times before, but only then understanding it no longer was the place i would call home, or where i had one to come back to. i remember whispering goodbye, and thinking of my grand-papa & my granny, hoping they'd still be around when i'd come back to visit. so i kept my face glued to the window to make sure my brothers, and no one else could tell that i was crying.
the plane took my brothers & i to germany, where we got on a 747 lufthansa to caracas, then bogota, then finally quito. the whole trip took about 20 hours. i remember being so impressed with the airport of bogota. it was grand, modern, filled with marble, military security guards with scary machine guns & dangerous looking german shepherds. that's when --drum roll please!-- i heard for the very first time mc hammer's Can't Touch This. woaaaaaaah!!! mtv usa was playing on all the monitors in the airport, and i remember locking eyes on one of the monitors & zoning out on mc hammer, his moves, his crazy pants in the middle of a jetlag, surrounded by shiny marble, machine guns & guard dogs. SURREAL! it was nothing like the colombian airport i saw kathleen turner in Romancing The Stone with michael douglas. that would be more like the retro chaotic airport in smaller remote quito, capital of ecuador.
we finally landed in quito a few hours later. no one had told me that the airport is the middle of the freaking city, and no one told me that quito even had modern buildings. all i found on quito in encyclopedias & books (it was before the internet), were pictures of colonial buildings and native americans, the descendents of the incas. i was a little worried i was going to live in some sort of backwards village with quaint plazas, lamas on the streets & crazy chicken running around everywhere. not to mention i knew very little spanish & it was a little unselttling to go somwhere to live (not vacation at) with another language i'd have to pick up...
when i saw all the tall modern buildings through the window, first i was surprised & more than that relieved. yay, there's an actual city down there. phew! then suddenly the buildings got closer & closer & my heart sunk, i thought we were slowly crashing into the city. and just when it seemed like the plane was only 50 feet above the tallest buildings (with red flashing lights on their roofs for planes to not hit them or guide them to landing strip who knows), the plane dropped. before i knew it, this massive 747 hit the landing strip nestled between mountains covered with houses. my parents later told me it was one of the most dangerous airports to land a plane. the planes can't make a progressive descent. they have to fly over the skyscrapers (if you can call 10 to 15 story high buildings skyscrapers) & get as low as possible then only have a few hundred feet clear of buildings before the landing strip, so they drop as much as they can when the buildings turn into houses, and regains some sort of control to not hit the land too hard. every now & then, jumbo jets still miss the mark & have to make a 2nd attempt at landing. some smaller ones have actually crashed into buildings!!! authorities used to put a cap on it & it barely made the news...

we got off the plane & walked on the tarmac towards the building, taking in the cold dry evening air of the andes for the 1st time. my stepdad greeted us & took us to my mother who was so excited to see us after 2 1/2 months apart she had tears of joy. no matter how long our separations would ever be, my mom always cried when we left her & always cried when we'd reunite; she still does! sometimes it gets so bad that my brothers & i will look at each other & try not to laugh. it's best we actually don't look at each other at such times or my mom will feel like we're being insensitive. she has a heart of gold, but it gets a bit dramatic sometimes...

it was late evening which at that point meant nothing to me. since we had diplomatic immunity, we sailed through customs, got in the car, and got to our new home in less than 20 minutes after landing. i was so confused as to how could we live so close to the airport but the city wasn't that big. as my brothers & i walked into the house for the 1st time, we decided with my mom's suggestions which bedrooms would become our new sanctuaries of sleep (and study urgh!), we explored the rest of the house, the gym & aerobics room (it had an entire wall about 30 feet long that was mirrored from floor to ceiling & one end to the other!). it became our playroom in which we had many parties for the following 3 years...
we weren't in our new house for more than 30 minutes, when i was standing by the floor to ceiling windows of the living room, looking at the amazing view of the city that was now my new home, when the windows started vibrating & making a low bass-y sound kinda like you hear when you inhale too much nitrus, which i never did by the way, but i can imagine... i thought i was hallucinating, like when you've had some mushroom tea, which i never had either for the record... next thing i knew everything was shaking. i think i could see the reflection of myself turning white in the tinted windows. first i dismissed the whole thing, telling myself there must be some metro line under the house or something, and how annoying that was. then realized i wasn't in brussels anymore & there's no way that could be possible anyway. i remember noticing people running out of their houses into the streets far away in the distance. then my brother jonathan who was only 9 went a little hysterical & was begging everyone to go back to the plane & leave cuz he didn't want to die. my mom tried to calm him down & then my stepdad & her told us that we now lived in a highly volcanic & seismic area & it was nothing else but an earthquake, and there was nothing to worry about because our house was built to withstand earthquakes. greaaaaaaat. this is what happens when the pichincha not only shakes things up but exhales a little:

my mom grew up in the mountains of central africa (in bukavu, by the shores of the lake kivu, boarded by zaire/congo, rwanda & burundi) where she had experienced earthquakes, and my stepdad had lived through a massive earthquake in santiago (chile) back in the 70s, where all the windows of his pad exploded. so to them, it was just a part of life. a fucking part of life??? ok, sure, why not! i guess i'll just have to get used to it. c'est la vie! jonathan had to sleep in my room for the 1st week, and each time there was an after shock he'd jump, and finally at one point that 1st night he fell asleep & was so exhausted he slept through several after shocks. my very 1st earthquake was around 5 on the richter scale if i remember well, and that's no small tremor. it brutally changed my take on life. nothing had ever made me feel so small & powerless before. never had i felt so strongly that i was part of something way greater & bigger than me: planet earth, the universe, nature, the freaking volcanoes... i had always been aware of all these things, and was educated about it all. those damn european international schools i attended stuffed my brain with so much data & info, but not a lot of experience. somehow the world evolved around me, and i had learned how to control my immediate environment, or at the very least spin things in a way that made me feel safe. from that day on, my 1st night in ecuador, i accepted --reluctantly sometimes-- that i evolve around things too, that i am part of something i can't always control, and that everything could just one day crumble under me... holy fuuuuuuuck!!! rude awakenings rule!

yoga \ chocolate / bridges

today's yoga class focused on this god of the dance & how interesting it is that he's all about extreme opposites in constant flux, which is some sorta metaphor for life, which is filled with transitions, and we so easily get wrapped up in the extremes & forget about the bigger picture, that everything is in constant flow, and that even when we feel stuck or upset, it's just part of a cycle. so if we remember that it's just part of a much bigger picture, we can better relax & cope with it, and better enjoy the moments between the extremes... urgh, it all made sense somehow while i was in class & now that my neurotic kookoohead is trying to explain it all i'm totally confusing myself. am i even making any sense here??? look, i swear i'm not turning into a dirty hippie, but shit, i'm really into this. i'm just annoyed now i can't explain it simply. it must be all the chocolate i'm eating getting to my head.

if u want fresh authentic pralines in LA, this is where you go:

L'ARTISAN DU CHOCOLAT

3364 West 1st Street, LA 90004

213.252.8721

i mean you just can't go wrong there & this is why... fyi, leonidas in belgium is considered the praline shop of the poor. it's the cheap place to get pralines. then again stella is to the belgians what budweiser is to the americans, so we don't exactly have the same standards. ok, well here's the problem, pralines from neuhaus or leonidas are much better in belgium than the ones you can buy here in LA. they actually add sugar to the recipes of the pralines they make to export to the usa because it lenghtens the chocolate's shelf life & the chocolate travels better when it's sweeter. so you're paying a fortune for a sweetened watered down version of the original. now a place like L'Artisan Du Chocolat was opened by an older french guy & his cute asian partner several years ago here in LA. they both have excellent training on how to make chocolate in the same way the belgians do (even if their training was actually in paris; close enough), except they make them here & you get them the way they were meant to be, as if you were back in europe. this being LA of course, they went a little crazy with experimenting with flavors but trust me, they're all really good. go check them out, try the best chocolate you can find in LA, and chances are if you get a box of pralines as a gift it will be more original --and tastier-- than getting some from leonidas. hell, get me a box just for tipping you on this!

on a much sader note, what happened in minneapolis st paul today is extremely sad. horrific. it's sooo "third world" i might add. not to make a tragedy all about me or anything, but it reminds me of caracas, where i lived for a while in the 90s... except the bridge we all thought was going to fall under us never did. and what would be expected to happen in a corrupt "third world" country happened right here in one of the wealthiest & safest nations in the world. amazing!

back to venezuela's capital of caracas, a city of over 4 million right along the carribbean but 3000 feet high in altitude. if you take the sea port of maiquetia & suburbs into account, it's a city of almost 8 million people. after the oil boom in the 50s, caracas blew up into one of the most modern & wealthiest cities of south america. once the city airport became too small, the larger simon bolivar international airport was built right on the beach, by the port of maiquetia. with the rising traffic, in the 60s, a large bridge connecting 2 mountains was erected, as well as tunnels were dug, to pave way for a connecting freeway that would cut the drive between the city of caracas & the simon bolivar airport to 35 minutes instead of almost 2 hours of dangerours windy mountain roads. cut to 1993, i move to caracas. as we drive up the freeway from the airport to the city, we get to this massive bridge that towers over an extremely deep & scary ravine. as we get to the bridge, i notice that suddenly all the cars accelerate from what seems to be a steady 70 miles an hour to over 100. i think i was jet lagged that first time & didn't really give it any thought. over the years, i drove over that bridge many more times. for some reason i never questioned why everyone accelerated so much over the bridge. one day, my stepfather broke it to me. here's the deal, since the 60s, most of the money awarded to the bridge's maintenance had been diverted into the private bank accounts of city officials (duh!) and engineers had warned that the foundations of the bridge were so damaged by earthquakes or hurricanes that it was just a matter of time till the bridge collapsed. everyone knew about it, but chose to take a chance rather than taking the safer & longer route. CRAZY! so we all took the chance. and it was kind of exciting in a way, to make it to the other side as if we had defied death. you almost get that kind of feeling at six flags when you get off a roller coaster, except you know there's no chance in hell you're gonna die at six flags. and if you do, you can sew them for millions. well your relatives can! anyhew, i miss living on the edge like that, that kind of collective state of mind of living in the moment... take a chance, live it up, cuz u could just die tomorrow. whatever you own today could be worth nothing tomorrow. spend it all before u go to bed! then again, i'm way too americanized by now. i'm kinda liking "safe" lately. i want safe! i'm tired of not feeling safe. i'm exhausted actually! hey, living on the edge was fun. i miss it, but i don't... anyhew, here's a pic of plaza altamira in caracas, close to where i used to live:

the waterfall in the middle of the stairs falls into the metro station below. this plaza was the center of a rather tranquil part of town, if you compare it to the rest of the city with skyscrapers against one another & insane traffic everywhere... the mountain in the background, el avila, is a national park. my house was right against it & we had a great view of the city from up there. the closer you get the the mountain, the greener it gets, and the area has tennis clubs, a large country club & golf course, etc... el avila is a national park, with tons of trails. it took about 4 hours to reach the top from my house, & from up there i could look back on the whole city to the south, and to the other side i would look north onto the caribbean sea where the international airport was & the port of maiquetia lied below...

ps: they finally did all the maintenance work on the bridge later on in the 90s, so if you ever go, don't be scared; if cars still speed up, it's probably just outta habit. that's how traditions are made!