Saturday, 2 June 2012

Luvly Jubilee!

–Bunting, Bangers and Boats


The inauguration of Liverpool's Cruise Terminal (props to anyone who signed the e-petition I placed in the sidebar) took place on Wednesday, on Thursday I discovered a shop – here in France – that sells my favourite brand of vegetarian sausages and today marks the start of celebrations for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. It's been a good week.

Sixty years on the throne is no mean feat. And I know I say tit, fuck, wank a lot but I'm extremely grateful to Her Majesty for being a constant in my life. I've got mad respect for her (click here to send a message to The Queen).

I'm particularly looking forward to the Thames Jubilee Pageant at 2.40pm (GMT) tomorrow, when the Queen, in a Royal Barge, will join 1,000 other vessels travelling down the Thames and I'll defo be doffing my baseball cap to her.

Luvly Jubileeeeeee!


COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Disabled Dog: Before & After Wheelchair

–Parapuglegic

For your enjoyment!



COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Free Flicks #1

–'Blind' (2011)

What with the recession, I've had to place austerity measures on my entertainment budget. So it's goodbye iTunes and hello iTubes. Yep, the YT has a slew of full length flicks pour gratis (for free).

Tonight, with a €2 microwave meal and a tub of sliced pineapple, I watched Blind. Totally enjoyed the experience. Click here for the trailer, or below for the main feature.

Monday, 28 May 2012

The Omar Roadshow: Aix-en-Provence

–A Pound of Flash

For your enjoyment…


Train Ticket: 1 Adult, 4 Pets (chien).



COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Thursday, 3 May 2012

Astronauts & Juggernauts

–The Omar Roadshow: Cactus Falls


My happiness is not a weapon. Some people, especially celebrities, on Twitter and Facebook et al. seem to use their happiness as a weapon. They only post pictures of holidays, new shoes, celebrations and the such. It's one of the reasons I rarely use social networks–happiness is not a weapon.

The post I wrote when I left France needs to be amended, I didn't tell the whole story and by failing to do that, my words created an unacceptable lie. I'll revise the post, I promise.

***

It was meant to be Sicily. But I'd read an article about a region in Spain that had voted to outlaw bullfighting, so I decided upon Catalonia.

A meal with Joan and family
The little fishing village just outside Barcelona had a flat-roofed train station that wouldn't look out of place in one of them ole black-and-white westerns. The town is Caldetas and I was the tumbleweed that rolled into town. Man, I was truly happy there.

I don't know if it was the kindness my landlord Joan (pronounced: wan) and his family showed me, the sea air or the spirit of the bulls [past and present] but Caldetas made me strong.


Caldetas

my yard, on the left
The town has many virtues: bucolic little parks, sandy beaches, rows of spice-coloured houses and a picturesque tree-lined high street, but it is also bisected by a huge fly-over, below which runs the coastal main line to Barcelona. Caldetas is the kind of place where both sides of the tracks are the "right side".


Despite the town's aforementioned attributes, I often put my dog in his little basket on the back of my bike and cycled to a patch of waste ground (pic above) at the edge of town. We hungout between the trains and the juggernauts. I like it up there; no one bothers and the flowers have an amaranthine quality (pic, left). I set the dog free and sat on the wall, just thinking 'bouts how lucky I am. The lorries wailing as they pass, like ghosts that can't cross over. And me on the wall at the foot of cactus falls, happy.

Remember when you was a kid and folks would always ask: what are you going to do when you grow up? And you'd say: lawyer, writer, singer, actor, arcitect (sic), astronaut etc. etc.. Well here, in a Catalonian pit stop, I realized I'm probably not going to make it in any of those fields. Thing is, I suspect the question is often misinterpreted, cos the answer should ALWAYS be: I'm going to survive.

My dad was a lorry driver.

–Cheyelle



Ps. Remember about a year ago when I spent a night in Aix-en-Provence and loved it so much that I pledged to return? Well, on Monday I left my magical, little, Catalonian fishing village and rolled into "Aces" – thus making good on my promise.

COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

One for the Books

–Return of the Mac


Some of you may remember my old iBook, Delores. Yeah, you remember - I wrote a post about her when I retired her to make way for my MacBook Pro, Millicent?

Anyways, last week Millicent died. God knows what happened to her? All I know is the bitch got riga mortis, so I suspect the problem may have been with her hard drive. I'm disappointed in Apple cos she was only 2.5 years old. SMDH!!!

Truth be told, me and Millie never really hit it off; my heart always belonged to Delores. Remember how I made a pledge to Dolores to make her: Honorary Lifetime Director of Archives? Well, true to my word, all these years post retirement she has remained by my side. Matter of fact, sometimes I'd fire her up and we'd just kick it. Often behind Millie's back. Perhaps that's what killed Millicent, perhaps she died of a broken heart?

As displayed in the picture in the top right-hand corner Dolly – true to form – has come to my rescue. Note: If you're wondering why there's a big black lady next to a little silver box on Dolly's display, I'm currently watching 'The Wire' box set.

I won't be posting much or making any vids due to Dolly's lack of camera, her age, fire-up time and dementia. Sometimes she just won't wake and other times her keyboard locks in Caps or Greek Symbol. If this happens, don't worry I'm not shouting or speaking in tongues.

Despite Dolores being, as illustrated above, literally held together with tape, me and old girl are doing just fine. We been reminiscing and shit - bouts the old dayz.

***

In other news, Monday here in Catalonia was La Diada de Sant Jordi (St. George's day). The tradition here is that women buy their partner a book and men, their partner a rose (God knows what the gays do?).

It was a bloody lovely occasion. The streets were lined with book stalls and children sold roses and cookies up and down the avenues (pictured, below). I cycled up the coast to a picturesque town called Arenys de Mar and, because I'm single, purchased myself a rose plus TWO books (what else am I gonna do come nightfall?): Robert Louis Stevenson 'The Isle of Voices' and Oscar Wilde 'The Canterville Ghost' (pictured below, left).


The brilliant day was all the more significant because I had read a headline in the MailOnline lamenting the lack of national pride in St. George. I didn't actually read the article cos I find whingers incredibly dull.

But I gots to thinking about the hoopla that they make over here for La Diada de Sant Jordi, and I wondered if the English have missed a trick?

Perhaps what the Anglo-Saxons need is a gimmick? Maybe what the English should do is replicate the Catalonian tradition of exchanging gifts? You know, celebrate the day by exchanging with their loved ones something quintessentially English: I thought maybe a pasty and a magic mushroom might make a good pairing.

Just imagine all the little English cherubs on estates up and down the country making a killing knocking out them mushrooms. And who doesn't love a Ginsters?

Thought we could call it Spores Gorge's Day and the anthem could be set to the theme tune of the Magic Roundabout – in Estuary English, of course. Just an idea.

–Cheyelle

 COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Monetise on YouTube: A Moral Dilemma

–Addcents


Yeah, so what happened was, today, YouTubes (click on image to enlarge) sent me the following email…


…and now I have somewhat of a moral dilemma.

Enjoy!



COPYRIGHT ©2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  CHEYELLE OMAR

Sunday, 8 April 2012

Günter Grass: "Persona Non Grata"

 –The Singing Sod


What must be said

Why have I kept silent, held back so long,

on something openly practiced in

war games, at the end of which those of us

who survive will at best be footnotes?

It's the alleged right to a first strike

that could destroy an Iranian people

subjugated by a loudmouth

and gathered in organized rallies,

because an atom bomb may be being

developed within his arc of power.

Yet why do I hesitate to name

that other land in which

for years—although kept secret—

a growing nuclear power has existed

beyond supervision or verification,

subject to no inspection of any kind?

This general silence on the facts,

before which my own silence has bowed,

seems to me a troubling lie, and compels

me toward a likely punishment

the moment it's flouted:

the verdict "Anti-semitism" falls easily.

But now that my own country,

brought in time after time

for questioning about its own crimes,

profound and beyond compare,

is said to be the departure point,

(on what is merely business,

though easily declared an act of reparation)

for yet another submarine equipped

to transport nuclear warheads

to Israel, where not a single atom bomb

has yet been proved to exist, with fear alone

the only evidence, I'll say what must be said.

But why have I kept silent till now?

Because I thought my own origins,

Tarnished by a stain that can never be removed,

meant I could not expect Israel, a land

to which I am, and always will be, attached,

to accept this open declaration of the truth.

Why only now, grown old,

and with what ink remains, do I say:

Israel's atomic power endangers

an already fragile world peace?

Because what must be said

may be too late tomorrow;

and because—burdend enough as Germans—

we may be providing material for a crime

that is foreseeable, so that our complicity

wil not be expunged by any

of the usual excuses.

And granted: I've broken my silence

because I'm sick of the West's hypocrisy;

and I hope too that many may be freed

from their silence, may demand

that those responsible for the open danger

we face renounce the use of force,

may insist that the governments of

both Iran and Israel allow an international authority

free and open inspection of

the nuclear potential and capability of both.

No other course offers help

to Israelis and Palestinians alike,

to all those living side by side in emnity

in this region occupied by illusions,

and ultimately, to all of us.



Click here and here for full story.

† Translated by Breon Mitchell