Looking at the ten rules of crowdsourcing identified by Jeff Howe in Crowdsourcing: Why The Power of The Crowd Is Driving The Future of Business, few questions come to mind:

1. Pick the right model. Are you trying to create a platform for volunteers to contribute to a worthy cause or are you looking for cheap labor?
2. Pick the right crowd. Do you think that being bilingual qualifies a person to translate or do you believe that professional translation requires professional translators? How would you feel about surgery done by an amateur surgeon?
3. Offer the right incentives. Is it right for a venture capital funded company to offer a token payment for professional services? Is there a difference between that and the same token payment offered by a charitable non-profit organization?
4. Keep the pink slips in the drawer. Can you attract volunteer professionals who will deliver at the same consistently good level you are accustomed to from your paid staff or freelance translators?
5. The benevolent dictator principle. Can a volunteer community function without a community leader?
6. Keep it simple and break it down. Can you divide the work into the smallest possible components so that the crowd can divvy up the tasks? Will it work to have a collection of individual sentences translated by different people?
7. Remember Sturgeon’s Law. According to the science-fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon, 90 percent of everything is crap. Can you achieve the desired quality?
8. Remember the 10 percent, the antidote to Sturgeon’s Law. Can you identify the best and brightest in the crowd to work on your project?
9. The community is always right. Who is in control? Is it possible to guide and control an online community?
10. Ask not what the crowd can do for you, but what you can do for the crowd. Does the project meet the needs of the crowd or rather the needs of the requestor of services? Will the crowd participate if its needs are not met?

Jiri Stejskal

P.S. WordPress is also using the crowdsourcing model to translate its interface .

On their European tour, I’ve had the possibility to make photos of this great and fast rising group from ‘Nuevo York’ USA… La Excelencia. With their ‘Salsa Dura’ and incredible rhythms they put the whole crowd on fire! The location this time was the ‘Harmonie’ at Bonn, Germany. On their tour they also played in Berlin, Stockholm and Rome! For more info you can always look at their website!

Thanks guys… and enjoy the pictures!

Also a special thanks to Jean and Christopher to make all this possible!

I was sailing in the ocean of thoughts,

I was away from the rumbling of leaves,

at the centre of the crowd yet so alone

in the middle of nowhere, I was before

the smile that caught me by surprise,

the smile that told me it will never suffice,

the warmth that can be felt only with those eyes,

it’s the heart that speaks only when it’s touched.

It’s your touch that dawned upon me,

Now I know this is what was just waiting to be,

It’s etched in the memory & the mind,

It’s a change that is one of a kind.

there is no tomorrow now, it’s for given..

though I just know, I want to hold on.

PARMA [WMAT NEWS] – An enormous crowd of bargain hunters lined up outside the Toys R Us store on Day drive in Parma.

The line stretched almost half a mile, with a crowd estimated at anywhere from 800 to 1000. It was so crowded, people began parking across the street at Parmatown Mall, due to the lack of parking at the store itself. Parma Police were also called to assist the store workers in crowd and traffic control.

The rainy weather certainly didn’t damage the spirit of these shoppers. Even those towards the back of the line remained very enthusiastic.

Not only were there several hundreds of shoppers. The huge line also drew dozens of spectators as well.

The person who was first in line at the store told us she had been waiting in line almost six hours before the store opened at midnight, and that she was shopping for her grandkids and some of her family members.

According to the store, the majority of their yearly revenue comes from Black Friday, and the four weeks leading up to Christmas.

©2009 Westcom/WMAT News

Darkness covers the city

And we are playing with it

You whisper my name

Telling, I’m to blame.

Your words cut like a sharp knife

As if they were taking my life.

They are oh, so loud

I got lost in the crowd

Now I see your hands taking

Mine. I see them truly faking.

They are so proud

I am lost in the crowd.

I feel you coming closer

I see us growing older

We are so very bound

I am part of the crowd!

I feel your face next to mine

I feel you breathe it’s so fine

We were all too soused…

I belong to the crowd.

Now you kiss my trembling lips

And then you shout those killer hits:

My name, my name, my name

Tells me I’m to blame

And darkness turns into light

Our Sins are getting too bright

We all whisper a name.

We are all to blame.

I feel you getting colder

Hands get off of my shoulder

My eyes seem to shout:

Once, I was part of the crowd!

Once,

I was

Part of that

CROWD…

by Nabila Rahman

As an avid music fan, I love anything to do with music. The other day, I was at a small “unplugged” session held at my school. On that particular day, I found myself more interested in the crowd than the music itself. You see, in a crowd, diversity is the key-different people, different faces!

What i found amusing that day was all the not known and misheard lyrics all around me. It’s fun to be a part of the crowd in a music session. It’s uplifting and highly amusing! Ever heard what the person next to you is singing? They start off humming, not quite sure of the words. Then, sings loudly just as they get the hang of it. Some hits a high note only to scream out the wrong word. While some shrug it off and keeps singing the wrong words others get back to their humming tone. It is funny, really, if you can catch what they are saying. I mean, who wouldn’t smirk if the person next to them is saying, “we don’t need no education, we don’t need no birth control!”

Of course, someone who sees me smiling like a goof during a Pink Floyd song will question my mental well being but if only they knew. So, the next time, if you ever find yourself at a music concert, do keep a look out for misheard lyrics. You might be standing next to the next Weird Al Yankovic!

The KKK is sure doing a lot of protesting and marching this past week.

 For a racist organization who routinely mocks the marches,protest, and boycotts organized by the Reverend Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton that they pattern after the Civil Rights protest organized by the late Rev.Martin Luther King,Jr. , they sure are acting a lot like the legendary iconic African-American freedom fighters, with all of their marching and protesting this week.

The protest staged by Dr. King  proved to be  effective in defeating the Klan in the 60’s.

The Klan,just this past week, held two days worth of rallies in Kennett,Missouri in protest of the Heather Ellis versus Wal-Mart case.

http://jerrybrice.wordpress.com/2009/11/19/the-kkk-and-wal-mart-in-memphis-join-forces-and-support-a-15-year-sentence-for-cutting-in-line-down-in-dixieland/

…and on Saturday they held a rally outside the Ole Miss vs. LSU game in protest of Ole Miss dropping  the lyrics and fight song ”Dixie”  from being chanted at their games.

Chancellor Dan Jones had ordered students to stop chanting the homage to the states racist past. After they continued chanting, he ordered the song From Dixie with Love to cease being played.

The Ku Klux Klan came out to rally in lieu of the chant “The South Will Rise Again.”

The medley, combining “Dixie” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” was often followed by shouts of “The South shall rise again.”…reports the UPI.

Charise Van Horn of the Examiner.com reports…Chancellor Jones sent an address to the student body of the University of Mississippi. It reads, “We cannot even appear to support those outside our community who advocate a revival of segregation. Consequently, I have asked the band not to play ‘From Dixie with Love’ at upcoming athletics events. The absence of this song will send a clear message that the university is neither facilitating nor indirectly condoning the chant.” The order to stop playing the song, From Dixie with Love, was issued on November 17, 2009 to stop playing the song.(http://www.examiner.com/x-12837-US-Headlines-Examiner~y2009m11d21-Ku-Klux-Klan-protest-at-University-of-Mississippi-over-the-South-will-rise-again-photos-video)

The counter protesters outnumbered the klan 10-1 on Saturday, and their ranks included faculty,staff,students, citizens, and alumnae.

They all read  the student creed aloud, including a call for belief in “the dignity of each person.”

“Our major concern was to show that this is what we stand for as a university,” said Artair Rogers, the Associated Student Body president.

Ole Miss, fueled by the insults from the klan, defeated the game LSU 25-23 in the historic rivalry.

http://msn.foxsports.com/cfb/story/10404452/No.-10-LSU’s-late-confusion-boost-for-Ole-Miss

From the looks of things, the klan needed to be on the sideline helping the LSU coach manage his time a lot better than he did, with those last three plays, as he messed up an easy field goal kick with his loopy clock management and ultra-strange play calling at the end.

I mean,LSU fans…didn’t you expect your team to kick a game winning field goal with that last play, rather than the one they ran to lose the game? …Seemed to me to be a pretty easy play to call, and you would have won that game.

I think, as I have been pondering that play all night,…maybe, just maybe, the LSU coach did not want to actually win the game, as it would have been celebrated as a win for the Klan, instead of what it would have been, just a win against Ole Miss.

Who knows, but that had to be the case, because that call was just as bad as the one coach Bill Belicheck made last week, to lose the game against Indy and Peyton Manning….it had to be something like that!

The Klan will never learn.They always support the losing side, and the failed causes like racism and the defeated and humiliated Confederacy that their ancestors supported with their lives.

Many of their ancestors did foolishly in their futile attempt to preserve slavery here in America, and if the scorched earth of General Sherman’s march did not convince them, them they all are truly ignorant and insane.

I watched this game between these two great institutions that at one time denied black players a chance to compete on their teams,…but all that is in the past.

Someone needs to let the klan know that.

The Grand Dragon of the Klan Shane Tate stated that …”We aren’t coming there to cause problems or cause trouble. Trouble has already been caused by a handful at Ole Miss, including the black student body president, who wants to shape Ole Miss into yet another liberal sodomite college.”

What is a sodomite college…together these words mean nothing!…I find this statement to be whimsical and nonsensical, much like gibberish.

Gibberish sounds like a fair  description of the Klan.

Follow the story here…

http://www.examiner.com/x-17321-AfricanAmerican-Sports-Examiner~y2009m11d22-KKK-used-the-Ole-Miss-vs-LSU-football-game-as-platform-for-protest

http://www.upi.com/Top_News/US/2009/11/21/Counter-protest-outnumbers-KKK-at-Ole-Miss/UPI-42151258850426/

November 16th

When we got to Japan we were devastated to hear that sumo season was over. Between that and only spotting one geisha, our to do list was looking pretty meager. Luckily Giles and Anne , in their infinite wisdom, informed us that the sumo tournament was only just beginning in Fukuoka so, ignoring Lonely Planet’s advice that people start queueing at dawn for the special (and cheap) ‘on the day’ tickets, we picked up our Japanese Rail passes and massive backpacks and headed straight for Japan’s second city.

We managed to blag the cheap seats for that day for 2,100 yen (around 16 euro) but it being only 11am, the stadium was pretty empty so we had someone else’s ringside (sweat splatter) seats until around 2.30pm. The tournament runs from 8.30am until 6pm every day for the duration of the festival, starting with the lower level sumos and moving onto the world’s best in the afternoon. Surprisingly, there are only around 800 sumo wrestlers currently competing, as Japanese boys move towards the country’s latest craze – baseball.

I had always imagined sumo to be an epic battle between two massive forces of nature so when the first few competitors came into the ring, weighing little over 14 stone, I was a bit disappointed. Fortunately as the day progressed, they got bigger, until they weight around 1 kilo less than a fully grown sperm whale. I was also surprised by the amount of ceremony involved (apparently sumo was originally part of a religious ritual).

The first person to enter the stage is a man in traditional dress (looking a little like a medieval squire) who sings/chants the competitor’s name. The sumo then hauls himself into the ring, a circle with a diameter of around 15ft on a sand platform. They stretch, lifting one swollen foot over their head before stomping it down on the ground and repeating with the other foot. Then they square up, squatting down, before standing up and walking out of the ring. The referee (also in traditional dress) dances about a bit and the sumos return, squat and sometimes, leave again.

After around 10 minutes of this the fat (or sometimes not so fat) men finally get to it. The referee starts yelping like an injured seal (apparently shouting encouragement) and they rush at each other, colliding and sending all their rolls of fat (and in one sumos case four boobs) quivering towards their rear in fear.

Oftentimes this is all it takes. One puts his shoulder down lower and the other, defying the law of gravity, soars over his back, suspended gracefully mid-air in a backflip for one terrifying moment, before he hits the floor/judge/closest audience member. And that’s it. After all the ceremony, chanting and prancing, they hobble back to the stage, bow and exit the room demurely. Sumo wrestlers, unlike Irish football fans, are not permitted to show emotion after winning or losing a bout.

The best fights are the ones where the wrestlers weigh about the same and have similar strength. When their shoulders meet, neither gives way and they wrap their free arm around each other. This leads to a standoff which, after a few minutes, starts to look a bit more like the world’s fleshiest cuddle.

You would think that seven and a half hours of watching a foreign sport in an unintelligible language with a seemingly endless routine of unrecognizable religious rituals, would be too much of a good thing. But its not. As the day went on it got more and more exciting and, as the more successful sumos arrived, the crowd got more and more excited. A queue of people waiting to greet the world champions formed outside the stadium and with all the screaming teenagers and swooning women, you would have been excused for thinking that you were at a Take That concert.

We left feeling like kids who had spent the day at Disney, practicing our squats and splits and stamping on the bus, just daring people twice our size to take us on. And why not? Sumo has it all – morbidly obese men, thongs, long flowing locks, bear hugs, elaborate costumes, injured sea creatures, gravity defying belly flops and the ever present fear that the next time they fall, it could be on you. What more could you want from a sport?

More photos of sumo in Fukuoka are available in the gallery.

Alright, this is semi-weird since I went to school with these guys [they're a year younger], but I can’t deny that they’re pretty awesome.
I Will Be King hails from Portland, OR and consists of Josiah Marshall [vocals and bass], Brennan Hickok [guitar], and Julien Ehrlich [drums].
They currently have two songs on their Myspace, so be sure to check those out. They also have a show tomorrow [November 21st] at Hawthorne Theater in Portland, OR. Show starts at 7 PM and tickets $10 at the door. You can also contact the band and get tickets through them for $9. I, personally, would buy through the band since it looks good when they can draw a crowd themselves.
Anyways, I really dig their sound, and their group shot is pretty awesome as well.

I was kinda racking my brains about what best to buy for my little nephew, niece and cousin (yeah when you have the (mis)fortune of being the first-born in the family on the paternal and maternal sides, you end up having cousins who’re as old (young) as your nephews/ nieces!) . Yeah, so I wanted to buy something nice for the li’l ones, at the same time I didn’t want to splurge on something which they would soon outgrow and would thus get wasted. So I thought I’d buy some stuff which could be really useful (atleast for a year or two) and which we wouldn’t normally spend on, back home. Well, this was at the back of mind all the time I went into any shop here.

So my eyes scoured for this something when I was at one of the touristy places last weekend and was taking a walk around the neighbourhood - there were a lot of small shops with ‘SALE’ written across them and that made me happy! I found one shop which seemed to have some stuff for the infants and kids, I went in to take a look. It was a sale alright – there were heaps of all kinds of clothes, jackets and other wearables and people were pulling at it, obviously wanting what someone else had in hand. I spotted these cute little winter jackets – complete with a hood, mittens for hands and feet and I thought – this is perfect! I’ll buy three of these and my gift’s ready! Little did I realize, it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

Firstly, it really was a heap and there was no separate heap for the jackets. And since it was for kids, I had to check the sizes before choosing them – the tiny little tag which says – 6 months, 9 months, 12 months etc. and which is not very easy to spot. Now two of these kids are nearly a year old and the girlie is 6 months. Apart from the different sizes, I had to be careful about the colours I chose – I couldn’t end up with pretty pinks for the boys and dull browns for the girl! So my task became all the more complicated. Well, let’s say, after 45 minutes of non-stop scouring and pulling out tiny hands and legs (of clothes, of course!), I ended up with 3 jackets – I partly lost patience after that and partly decided – a gift is a gift, what they do with it later is surely left to the parents!

So then, with my arms loaded with these three heavy jackets, I walked deeper into the store between aisles filled with clothes of all kinds - for women mainly. That’s when I realized how big the shop actually was and how many people it held! I picked my way amongst them and finally managed to reach the billing counter. A woman of African origin, said ‘Oui‘ with a question-mark writ all over her face. I pointed to my armload and pointed to her machine and said bill. She again said ‘Oui‘ and pointed towards something behind my back. I turned my head and saw – a serpentine queue whose end seemed to be lost somewhere in the other corner of the store – all women waiting with basket-loads of clothes they’d bought to be billed on that Saturday afternoon! They were snaking up to the counter in a round-about fashion, which I’d failed to notice. I caught my jaw from hitting the ground and quickly went past atleast thirty ladies to stand in the queue.

And then started the ordeal of waiting.  It being a ladies queue there were a few cat-fights here and there, about people forming invalid sub-queues in the wrong directions – but nothing which wasn’t settled amicably in a few minutes. As I stood between that throng of French women who were chattering away in a language which I couldn’t remotely understand, I felt lost! I did contemplate leaving behind the jackets and coming away, but then thought the better of it - having invested nearly an hour of my time, I wanted to buy it that day. Standing in that queue I realized why men tend to get annoyed when they shop with us. Those ladies, even as they stood waiting, wouldn’t let a piece of cloth alone – they checked each and every piece of clothing in every counter of every aisle – irrespective of the colour or size or pattern or anything. They wanted to take it in their hands and see it for themselves! There were times when I wanted to scream – aunty! please move on! I want to get these 3 damn things billed and get away, can you please let me go?! But I did nothing of the sort, you don’t go to a foreign country and voice your strong opinion amongst a group of people whose language you don’t understand! I grit my teeth and counted sheep as the line woefully slowly moved on. It was a good half hour before my turn came, I paid the cash and rushed out.

Phew! It really had been years since I’d shopped for anything like this by standing in such a long queue! For all the trouble I took, those babies better coo and be nice about their jackets!

This is long overdue, but I’ve been pretty busy.

Anyways, general info:
Date: November 13th, 2009.
Location: Roseland Theater in Portland, OR.
Line-up: All Time Low, We The Kings, Hey Monday and The Friday Night Boys.

I got to the venue while Hey Monday was playing, so I can’t vouch for The Friday Night Boys’ performance that night. But, I can say that I saw them earlier this year and wasn’t impressed at all. I don’t know if it was an off night or not, but I was disappointed.

Hey Monday, for lack of better word, rocked it. I’ve seen them once before back in April, but I don’t think I saw them at their best since the WaMu Theater is quite massive. Anyways, Cassadee’s voice seems to have improved a lot. I was really impressed. The whole band had the crowd so pumped and into the set, you can really tell they absolutely love performing. I know a lot of people don’t like Hey Monday because Cassadee is “trying to be like Hayley [from Paramore]“, but I honestly don’t see it. They have such a stage presence, and they really are awesome performers. Yeah, Cassadee and Hayley are both female vocalists, but come on.

We The Kings. Oh, they never get old. I think I’ve seen them a good 6 times now, and I am nothing short of impressed each time I see them live. Granted, it’s getting a bit old since they only have one album to play songs from, but they have so much energy. I’m fairly sure Travis was ill, but he didn’t let it slow him down at all. They started off the set with their new song entitled “Heaven Can Wait”, and they rocked it. They also did a cover of Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle” and the crowd ate it up. They performed it really well. For seeing them so much, it’s a lot to say that I would still see them again. I think the biggest reason I keep seeing them is because I love the things that come out of Hunter and Travis’ mouths on stage, so funny.

All Time Low, what to say. This was the 4th time I have seen All Time Low, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a crowd more into their set. Alex was ridiculously sick, and Jack had warned the crowd that their set would have to be cut a little short due to that. As far as I can remember, Alex did about 4 songs with the band before leaving stage to go get sick. Cassadee from Hey Monday and Andrew from The Friday Night Boys came on to fill in for vocals on about 3 more songs. Jack brought 2 people from the crowd to sing along to their cover of Blink-182’s ‘Dammit’. I absolutely love seeing them cover Blink, because you can tell how much they have influenced and inspired them. By the end of their set, I’m fairly sure all the bands were on the stage, along with a crazed dancer man, singing along to ‘Dear Maria’, and I absolutely loved it.

Overall, it was an amazing show. If I only went to see All Time Low, I’d feel a little gipped, but you can’t expect a super-sick vocalist to bust out a whole set.

Videos:
I didn’t take any of these, just so you know.

So, another week, another ex-Premiership team swimming in relative cash for the Swans to pit their meagre resources and plentiful wits against.  Granted, Derby hardly covered themselves in glory in the most recent foray into the Promised Land* – the only promise seeming to be the oath they took to lose pretty much every game they played – but at this lower level the sheer financial clout that Derby wield means that they simply have to be taken seriously as a force, no matter how bad a season they appear to be having.

Swansea, for all our great football, upwardly mobile trajectory, good will from neutrals and general great reputation, could never just go out and buy Kris Commons, for example; it just isn’t (and probably never will be) the way a club of our size is able to operate.  We have to be shrewder than that, in the way we work and the way we play.  Luckily, in Huw Jenkins and Paulo Sousa it would seem we have two of the shrewdest about.

When I say shrewd, I don’t mean Niel Warnock “shrewd” – forming great swathes of total rubbish into a rock hard unit of drilled, sledgehammer precision who are able to bruise their way to results against teams far superior to themselves.  No, our “shrewd” is infinitely preferable.  We can match any team in this division for skill and good football, that’s not the problem.  The clever bit from Mr Jenkins is in somehow finding the money for the players to do this, and the clever bit from Mr Sousa is instilling in them the nous not to let teams like Warnock’s Palace – who did the double over us last season –  force the result of a game come down to anything other than who the better team is.

The media of course, has been way off the scent with regards to Swansea this time.  You kind of expect that with the BBC  – when they talk about our “slow start” to the season and imply it was more to do with Sousa finally discovering a “winning formula”, rather than the fact that first-team players finally returning from injury meant he was able to “discover” players other than the youth team to actually put on the pitch on a Saturday afternoon., you can forgive them because that’s what it looks like from the outside.

The Evening Post is more of a worry.  before the Cardiff game they still referred to us as “struggling”.  I’m not one for conspiracy theories, but it seems to me and many others that the knives are out for Paulo Sousa over in SE1, and you get the feeling that they would much rather him to be falling flat on his face than leading the triumphant charge he has been recently.  Why is this?  In many ways Sousa is a journalist’s dream – stylish, hip, successful and with a rich history in the game to draw from on a slow news day.  He doesn’t pull his punches in interviews either – this week he pretty much came out and said that Swansea crowds were shit most of the time, but we Jacks still love him because we know that, well, he’s right! 

Oh don’t look at me like that.

I love being a Jack.  I’m proud to be a Jack.  I’m proud of pretty much every other Jack I’ve ever met, but let’s not pretend that we are a good crowd because we are not.  We are fickle, tetchy and generally unloyal.  We turn on players at the drop of a hat, are quite happy to sit in relative silence during a game if the excitement level drops anything below “pulsating”, and idiots still phone in to the Football League Show to complain that they’re still “not sure” about Paulo as manager. 

So when Sousa criticises us a crowd, that’s fair enough really, and we know it.  While there are still people in our crowd who will even now insist that Jason Scotland is lazy and rubbish I don’t really see how we can argue.  When Roberto Martinez used to bang on about what a “great crowd” we are it felt a bit embarrassing in that it clearly wasn’t true.  It made me think of that Shakespeare sonnet:

When my love swears that she is made of truth,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     I do believe her though I know she lies

But I digress.  And one thing you can never knock us Jacks for; we love to win.  Man, we love to win.  Most clubs of our size who have won as little as we have seem to develop a rather mild acceptance of the fact that they never win – there’s none of that with us.  Luckily, winning is something that we’ve actually been able to enjoy recently rather than just optimistically (and rather ridiculously) demand.  The Liberty will be packed on Friday night, with 16,000 tickets sold already and the match promises to be a good old fashioned night time game.

Most Jacks expect an easy win, which in itself is just stupid.  If half time comes round and we aren’t winning (or God forbid LOSING!), you know that small but vocal minority will boo.  You just know it.  Our tremendous win in the derby – far from buying our team and manager the patience and admiration they deserve – only really serves to raise our already unhealthily-high expectations to the kind of levels where disappointment will always be just around the corner.

So my fingers will be crossed on Friday night.  N0t just for a Swansea win, but in the hope that our bumper crowd doesn’t let itself down at the first test.  The Evening Post would just love that.

* Promised Land – do we even want to be in The Premiership?  I mean of course we do, but do we really?  I think on this quite a bit, and it’s something I plan to address in a future article.

i find myself killing time with strangers, breathing fragrant air. this city has no limits – it is spoilt, cold and strange. it is full of strangers but perhaps they find me strange as i sit here alone. gathering crowds impose upon my personal space. i am not invisible – although i might as well be… they enter in twos and threes and hunt in packs. they are social and territorial.

a fleeting glance in my direction – they see right through me. they look at me but don’t really SEE me. who is stranger? strangers see the stranger in me. i am a girl interrupted by other peoples’ thoughts outspoken. i am alone, but not on my own. others come and kill their time in my comfort zone – slowly devouring the circle that i have drawn around myself for my own self-protection and self-preservation. i want to be alone. fragments of their conversation build to a crescendo of pink noise. pink noise buzzing in my head.

the girl next to me is loud, screaming to be heard irrespective of the close proximity of her clones. siamese twins – inseparable. same hair, same lipstick, same shoes and plastic handbag. she nestles into her comfort zone – infringeing and eating into mine. does she care? does she fuck. her hand moves closer to me and i realise that there is a very fine line between intimacy and
invasion. i become more self-aware, opening up slowly – others become loose really quickly, alcohol infused and loose. they lose their inhibitions – only thinking of themselves. i am not invisible – although i might as well be… i am just another face in the crowd. breathing in and out and as alive as everyone else around me; those that surround me. the air feels brittle and it’s getting hard to breathe. they suffocate me – they suffocate me and i want to come up for air. i need to come up for air. my lungs are filled with their pungent yet resplendent exhalations. i want to surface, gulping lungfuls of fresh air and scream “do you see me? do you hear me? do you see me? do you fucking see me…!?”

i am alone in my built up zone, surrounded by the hum and prattle of chatter and the ringing and blipping of mobile phones. i sink deeper into oblivion in this cacophany of sound. pink noise. a wall of sound surrounds me. the beat of the background music betrays me slumping deeper into the wallpaper. the kitsch and gawdy wallpaper. i am detached. yet strangely attached. i am singled out. i wait for his return. i wait for my lover to return. how much longer will i have to listen to the psychotic babble as the nauseating smell of siamese twins’ perfume makes my head swim, dulling my senses and making me feel sick. time goes tick – tock – tick – tock ad infinitum. what am i to them? what am i to the others in this post-modern palace of perfunctory pleasures? i am nothing. i am stood up. i am stuck-up. i am not invisible… although i might as well be… for all it means to them. that girl touched my thigh.

incidently. unintentionally her hand brushed my thigh. i am not invisible – although i might as well be… i sit and wait for him. i don’t like this. i am hemmed in. stuck in the middle – amidst their words and laughter. i wish they’d turn it off. i wish they’d go away. i sit and wait for him. and i wait…. and wait. and weight. i bear this weight for him. i can’t bear the weight. the air is too heavy. heavy, crushing down on me. constricting me. the boom-boom bassline of the music moves in closer, i can feel it pump my chest – like this city’s heartbeat. bodies – now there are too many bodies, encircling me. closing in on me. closer. closer. i can smell the intimacy. the craving. tensions are building. i can almost taste it. a tangible
expectation and anticipation of sex. that’s what they come for. sex. sex for boys and girls. that is why they come here – so they don’t leave alone. i wish they’d leave me alone.

i watch faces come and go. i close my eyes and listen. voices are singled out and rise above the drone of mumbles of the masses as their words cut through. bodies that thrust words like daggers into your heart. bodies that thrust and impose their lives upon everyone else in the room. with just one word. i sip my gin and tonic. how much longer will i have to wait? time passes by so slowly and i can feel myself growing younger. they glance around at me. a passing glance with unseeing eyes – yet eyes that judge. just as a passerby glances at a homeless person. i am not invisible – although i might as well be… quietly confident, i sit and observe my surrounding surroundings. i wait for him to return – to uplift and remove me from this… this… this. this place. settled, yet unsettled i wait. and they close in.

the ice melts, diluting my tonic. i sit and wait. wait for him to refuel my diluted spirit and free me from this zoo. this circus. feels like i am inside a goldfish bowl and forced to look outwards – faces glower inwards, scrutinising, judging – as they jostle and bustle and chip away at my personal space, nibbling slowly. like rodents, like vermin. i refuse to accommodate their attempts to invade me and take over. i was here first. this is MY graze post – i was here first motherfuckers. i was here first enjoying the solace and serenity of my own company. that girls perfume wafts over and my stomach lurches. she is loud. loud and gawdy – like a strutting parrot. her voice hurts my brain. every vowel sound mauls my skull as she poaches on my home ground – my personal space. slowly, inch by inch, they close in around me. disrespect me. i am not invisible… although i might as well be… i will not flinch. i will stand my ground. i can be as hostile as they are. i can be hostile to your unwanted advances. you can just fuck off. i WILL beat your brow. i slip outside myself and watch. i really do not want to be here. feels like i am going to ‘crack’ wide open.

it will be hideously poetic – and messy. very messy. they made me what i am on this day. today. and what i am going to become if i am subjected to this Hell for much longer. if only i could escape my body. let me be free – let my soul break out of this prison cell – this living Hell and circle, swim around the Heavens and leave all this behind. simmering with hatred and wretched inhumanity my impatience festers with every ugly minute that passes. i wish i could leave my body in suspended animation. slow things down to stop and play with space time continuum. scream and spit in their faces, piss in their drinks, pull down their pants and expose them. i would fly through the door and soar. soar into the sky – swirl and whirl, soar and dive. i would fly past peoples’ windows and up around the rising spires. but i am stuck here. leather upon leather. alone in a crowded city bar.

it feels like it is going to explode – or implode. perversely, i enjoy this voyeuristic journey. i am watching from afar. i am tired of waiting. tired of being weighted down. down.

the air is sweet and heavy. so heavy. a thick sweet barrier. i wish i could carve a way out through the stench of cheap perfume, stale cigarette smoke and garlic prawn. voices and noises surround me, pull me down. sound, thick sound – peppered with a spray of interjected words and peals of laughter of other peoples’ conversations and conclusions. they have no regard for others. loud
raucous laughter spiking the wave of this aural orgy. this. this. discomfort. i don’t want to be here. i am not invisible… although i might as well be… self-obsessed beings craving their self-satisfaction. a voyeurs paradise. people watching people, watching. judging and being judged. assumptions fill the air, weighing it down, filling the void. polluting the air. i look out the window. respite. escape. the sun has retreated to bed. i am tired. tired of waiting for my angel to return and save me. wrap me up in his large and beautiful wings and carry me out of this place. this ugly place. this Hell on Earth. i wait for my angel to take me.

i exit the flesh and blood and hover in the ceiling. watching the mortals play. i watch from above to overcome these feelings of boredom, frustration and inertia. free of the anger and overwhelming desire to kill someone. i watch them play. watch the actors play – act – on their social stage. watch them acting up. putting on their own act for each other. how fitting. do i fit? i am not in the crowd. alone. i sit alone. i sit and ponder my position, and juxtapositions and impositions now thrust upon me. this poses further questions. where is my lover? where is my angel? i try telepathy. try to transmit thoughts. thoughts float out the door in their millions and soar into the night rain… i try in vain. i am restless. almost at breaking point.

the noise. the fucking noise. please make it stop. please. please come get me. i am tired. i wish i could silence them. silence the fuelled up girls and boys. i wish i had a remote control to shut it off. i close my eyes… i am not invisible… although i might as well be… retrospective. i think back to the solace i enjoyed an hour ago. two hours ago. i was generous with smiles today too. i had plenty throw away smiles to give. i never got any back in this miserable place. not one smile. until i open my eyes and find him… my lover. standing before me with outstretched wings…

i am not invisible. he sees me. he smiles. he loves me. he makes me feel loved; like i am home. and i belong. i belong. anywhere.

just so long as it’s with him…

with him, i am not invisible.

Words (c) Kat McDonald 2004

Beyonce wrapped up her London tour on Sunday and did the unbelievable.  She jumped right in the arms of her screaming fans and kept singing while they passed her around.  You go B!  Check out the YouTube footage of this performance!

Pigeons on a telephone pole in Ottawa’s west end.

Web site: www.robhuntley.ca
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