To soap or not to soap?

i was reading an albanian post of a short story. why albanian? because i know the language. why literature? checking out the competition of course. it is those pesky foreign writers that take honest readers away from aspiring americano wannabes like myself.

anyway it goes like this: a girl calls god but she only finds his secretary (voice mail) one day she goes over to her old lovers house, gives him the b-day gift she never gave him when they went together and then gets hit by a car and dies, thinking this time god heard her and granted her a quick death. of course there is the requisite fatzilla wife of the lover who tortures him with her crazy requests for massage to her elephant legs of a pregnant woman and ice cream cravings.

now come on. the writer is good without having to resort to so many soapie thingies. i mean, four paragraphs, five tragedies, each one more gripping , more tearjerking and dazzlingly bad than the rest. what is he/she thinking? why does she/he need so much attention drawn to this piece (and it is a bad one) it reeks of soap opera.

truthfully, i do not know why i have such an aversion to soaps. maybe because they set such impossible life limits for people. maybe because they throw a romantic rosy lights on the ugliness of life. like when was it ever cool to sleep with your father-in-law after you marry your boyfriend’s long lost evil twin who turns out to be your mother’s brother gay lover’s son, only to betray all of them and become pregnant by your transvestite high school lover-cum-beauty queen who you met in a stormy night in the streets of the rough city after you had decided to kill yourself with the your husband’s gun that will turn out to have wounded your maternal uncle’s first wife that you will end up eventually remarrying in a lesbian ceremony in texas?
or maybe because, even though i have tried, nothing like this ever happens to me. I mean i am pretty normal, healthy buxomy heroine. Do I save my boyfriend’s birthday gift for 8 yrs? heck no! Am I enough of a stalker to know where he lives and knock on his and his pregnant wife’s door? (i’ll only admit to obssessive googling) as for the car part, yes, I am actually absend minded enough to get hit by one because i never look before I step. I guess God must be too busy watching out for me to answer the other womna’s calls after all, so that part must be true as well.
writers do cut corners and put tearjerkers because they are addicted to emotions of their readers but do not want to work for them. nowadays everybody wants instant gratification, and in this case they jerk emotion out of their readers or at least make them guilty for not liking the piece or not having any emotions to jerk. we’ve been wringed out you nazis!!
writers do not want to take time and cajole that tear out of the corner of the eye, arouse that emotion from the weary heart, built up to a crescendo, a culmination point. oh no.
this part sort of leaves one raped back and front with a popsickle (See what i mean about captivating attention).
and yet, i might still write soaps. steady money you know.

Mis Bjeshka 2008

for those of you who do not know Albanian, this is a beauty competition tradition that has been sort of revamped. Used to be the Men Beauty Contest.
but hey, it is still delicios even without a swimsuit segment. Enjoy!
originally brought to my attention by the delightful twin:

Updates on EH

I guess y’all be happy to read the following…brought as a comment by Non Aligned Movement
Regarding Ervin Hatibi, needless to say that he represents currently the ultimate achievement of the Albanian poetry. Furthermore his complex personality as a writer and artist has already established a new school of poetry writing in Albania by inspiring a whole new generation of poets, trying to revive decades long dead Albanian poetry (which in my modest opinion represents at the same time the soul of Albanian gemeinschaft). And this is the main difference that Hatibi has with most of the known writers in Albanian language including Kadare. This last, albeit of his good semi-fictional narrative has never managed to become an inspiration of change or spiritual upbringing neither in underground nor in popular culture. In sharp difference from Kadare, Hatibi has mastered an in-depth understanding of the shades of the Albanian society and has sacrificed his talent by representing it. The best proof of this is the high intricacy that his work represents for any translator in any given language. In any case, if anyone is interested in reading something from Hatibi in foreign languages I would suggest visiting Hatibi’s own web site http://www.ervinhatibi.com . I presume it is still under construction but I believe it serves the purpose.

 

 

cheatersmitergirl IV (rated ED)

I am perched on the stool of the very swanky ICILICIOUS bar, waiting for my drink and my customer to arrive. she sounded kind of funny over the phone which is why i asked to meet her and get the assignment in person. I have to be careful not to smite innocent people, even though it is getting so hard trying to find even one. And my radar started beeping as soon as I heard the teary voice of Michelle (my client) over the phone describing me how her fiancee had repeatedly cheated on her with several girls for the whole time they were engaged. and she’d been so heartbroken, so miserable, and would i please smite him so that she could stop crying and get on with her life?

suspicious! and i wanted to try ICILIOUS and find a way to write it up in my tax returns so here I am, sipping on a frosty mojito and watching a very busty and wawawoom brunette making her way over.

(F.y.i. ICILICIOUS is one of those ultracool places where they not only allow you to come in drag, they encourage it, sort of a Diet S&M or lightly peppered perversion, therefore my usual Queen of the Pathetic, Punisher of the Pencil pusher crowd raises no eyebrows, whether shaved or tattooed)

it is indeed the heartbroken Michelle. she sits next to me and pushes my own flier over:

-Did I speak to you on the phone? -she asks, her feathery voice carrying over the house music.

-Yep – I say – In all my grandeur. How do you do?

another day jewel

Ok now it is official, men are superficial and women will do anything for beauty
read the story and tell me it ain’t so.
now if only i could find some skates…

day jewel

somebody searched the thing below, and they got my blog. boy that must have been a sight to see!

Search Engine Terms
These are terms people used to find your blog.

Today
Search Views
kerkoj vajze fshatare ne usa te virgjer 1
(I am looking for a peasant girl in us, and a virgin)

Any takers ladies? Hook an albo up!

Found my dream man [not for the faint of heart]

topsy turvy MTA

was on the number two train today, going to Harlem for a healthfair. all of a sudden, the announcement started: “all passangers, number two is going lexington express number five route. for all passangers wanting the west side, number five is going broadway local number two route.”
and ther you have mta in a nutshell.
what is the sense, i ask, in switching routes for two and five? if there was another line involved, like making nr 1 run crosstown or express instead of local, i would understand.
it is the same with the BX12 express and local buses. they put these machines up in the bus stops and i was happy because i thought i could fill my MTA card in them and not go to the train station anymore.
guess what, it ain’t happening. all you can do there, is pay with the mta card you already have and get a receipt which you need to show to the driver when you get in the bus. which you previously did inside the bus in the appointed machines that now stand unused and sad and stuffed with old transfer cards.
of course the MTA has no more money and wants to raise the fare. if they keep implementing innovative ideas like this one, they’ll never have anything. unless they are being paid to keep up the alert levels of new yorkers. which, in a way, explains why new yorkers are so very alert and quick thinking. and why it feels as an accomplishment when you finally learn to navigate the subway and get to your destination without either:
1. paying double
2. waking up at the last stop not knowing how to go back.
3. losing the past three trains because you want to get the express line and nobody told you it’s all local service today
4. trying to unscramble that PA announcement which is supossed to make your navigation easier, instead of frantically asking the other passangers: what’d he say? what’d he say?
5. all of the above.
anyway, even for veteran commuters like myself, there is the occassional “jolt of mind” like the one above. i suppose i should be grateful my brain is not yet on vacation.

in case you want to live in NY though, here are some pointers for the subway:
there is always another train coming and they usually run every hour. for this reason, the boss can be surprisingly understanding when you show up late at work.
do not be afraid to ask the staff even if they are grumpy.
never get out of the turnstile if you have not yet reached your intended stop. this way you will not lose the fare money.
you can transfer from train to bus but not from bus to train with a metro card.
visit www.hopstop.com if you are not sure what train to take, and map out your commute. i love this site!
always look at the seat before you sit down.
subway maps are free.

breakdown of energizer bunny

i have finally managed to be so swamped with work that my hands are literally gnarling over the computer board and my brain refuses to work anymore without sleep and burn its cells on coffee.
i have been working like a maniac on my day job, trying to manage on my night job, plainly killing myself on my translation project, maintaining contact with beautiful girls of Albanian Woman Exposed and our charming curator who is starting to understand that having a harem (loosely defining a group of pretty accomplished and smart artistic women juggling duties, family and work) is not all that it cracked up to be, translating and editing my friend’s stuff, going out for a friend’s birthday party and generally keeping abreast with the daily gossip/blogosphere environment.
and no there is no declaration. (you know who you are!)
i broke down and allowed myself this little posting before i go nuts and attack the squirrels mocking me outside the window. jsut to justify my irregular disappearances there are several good things to come from them:
1. more money,
2. promotion (or at least job security)
3. Albanian Women Exposed, our wonderful show to happen on September 19. you are all invited!
4. these little verses in my head that refuse to disappear.
beautiful putty
by his rough hands molded
he thinks it’s the hands
she thinks it’s the putty

of course bad things might come out of them as well:
1. aggravation of client, alienation of family, commitment to psych ward
2. murdering of squirrels
3. total food and coffee binge
4. lapse-in-judgement boyfriend (brrr)

so anyway, see ya when i am a bit more coherent

grabs and catcalls

i was walking down 3rd avenue today when this man bumped into me head on. eehh it happens i thought and made to walk off. then i felt his hands moving fast, trying to feel my boobs. as my brain stood shocked, my body reacted and pushed the man away so strongly that he almost fell. then he walked away without a peep, while my temperature went to 170 degrees. i just not could not calm down for the longest time. it was a small stupid event after all. it is just that it hadn’t happened in so long that i forgot how it felt or to even watch out for it.
on the train, i was trying to balance my high heeled wedgies with my coffee and shoulderbag when i felt a definite brush against my tush. it did not feel crowded in the station, so i turned to see who it was. it was a handicapped guy, who leered at me. or maybe he was just cross-eyed, i don’t know. but he definitely copped a feel and was going home happy. what to do?
later, i bought an ice cream and was eating it while going back to the train station. it was hot and i was enjoying my soft-serve to the cone. and then somebody yelled at me, several times until i stopped. i turned and this guy asked if he could lick it too. now, it caught me by surprise again. normally i do not get such brazen catcalls. in true albo style, i flipped him off and went away agitated, dropping the ice cream at a garbage bin.
at first i was mad. then i said that he did not deserve the bird after all. he was not grabby guy, he was catcall guy. he probbably paid me a compliment in his weird and stupid way. i could have possibly handled it differently without being vulgar woman.
1. i’d shake my head when he asked me to lick the ice cream, snigger and walk off.
2. i’d get closer, right in between his stupid friends, give him the ice cream to lick, then drop it in his trousers after he was done with it.
3. i’d hand him $3 and walk away.
4. i’d continue ignoring him and walked away enjoying my ice cream.
5. i’d go to him and thank him for being so kind to an old lady.
i was surprised that i paid so much attention to this incident. the truth is, i do not get many catcalls anymore, not even from construction people. possibly because this is New York and girls way prettier and younger walk the streets every minute. possibly because men are a bit smarter and less attentive than the other cities. so, i should have been grateful. it is just that catcalls are grating to the nerves. they do not make the subject laugh. they are intimidating. one has to have balls to go through a noisy group of men and not react to catcalls. and sometimes, when i have already gone through boob-grabbing guy, touchie-feelie handicapped guy, dirt-mouthed techie and what not, my patience ends, and i snap. and then the dirt-mouthed techie gets it.
so that is it, i am mad still.