I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
Umberto Eco
Skins is one of those shows like the Sopranos that you know are bad for you but you can't help yourself. The British drama now famous for its unabashed portrayal of Youth in Excess is now gearing up for it's 5th season. The show is also famous for changing up its cast every two seasons keeping the story lines fresh and perhaps a tad realistic,something their saccarine American counterparts (ahem One Tree Hill) can learn from. The show is also renown for the its large ensemble of young amateur writers which reinforces its relevance and Pop culture credentials.
Since I first watched skins I've seen the kids, for they are real kids, battle drugs, depression, homosexuality. drugs, sex, death and abortion with real human passion and feeling. Problems are not quickly solved with a text to Gossip Girl nor are petty rumours and that new dress integral to the show's plot. All in all, a good effort though the constant profanity and delinquency raise the PG rating of skins way above the PG-13 of most teenage dramedies. Plus the show has a cool indie Brit soundtrack.
Generation 1: The pioneer cast from Season 1 & 2.
Generation 2: The Cast from Season 3 & 4
On a sad note, an American remake of the show is in the offing. Needless to say it will be bland and tastelessly adapted for American television.
It's been 6 years, dozens of episodes and scores of arguments on philosophy and the Dharma Initiative but this year we said goodbye to one of the most enigmatica and iconic shows on television.
In case you didn't know the Kwani? Literary Festival is on this week. The festivities kicked of yesterday at the secluded Kifaru Gardens, Lavington. I dragged a friend of mine there and what a lovely afternoon it was. Speakers included Micere Mugo, Marjorie Oludhe as well as performances by a suprisingly dashing Mukoma wa Ngugi and Binyavanga Wainaina. The event was not complete without Atemi's husky sweetness wafting deletable carols across a cool Nairobi evening. The full programme, which ends on Saturday can be accessed here. Also on show yesterday was a slightly embarrassing and barely heated exchange between an inebriated Tony Mochama and Wambui Mwangi which got a bit to personal and for me, quite funny. All in all a day well spent in intellectual immersion.
In an aside, I spotted the great and benevolent Ngugi wa Thiong'o in the audience and nearly passed out!
Undoubtedly one of the greatest albums ever made, and one of those Cuban gems that are so nostalgic and sentimental you can't help not liking it. The handful of songs in achingly poetic spanish and the afro-spanish guitar riffs that speak of a melodeous fusion of culture and history. I say buy it now, it's brilliant!
The Road was the first McCarthy novel I read a couple of years ago when it first came out. I was amazed and astounded by the books themes and McCarthy's voice, the simple narrative that had a god-like, almost biblical conviction. More recently I decided to write an academic paper trying to uncover the underlying themes that made this book of loss, post-apocalyptic societal decay and the strengths of the human will. In ten full readings and numerous other references, I examined closely and critically the images of darkness and light, the Christian myths and allusions, the parallels between the books protagonists and the story of Christ were almost uncanny but not in a way that seemed contrived or convoluted. By the end I should have hated the book, deconstructing the words and squeezing out the meaning, like watching the Special Features of a movie and finding out that the special effects were not that special and the actors merely human. Instead I loved the book even more and had a quite respect for McCarthy as this is a work of a genius, timeless and ever so relevant Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
for an increasingly misanthropic world. A Classic worthy of any Canon.
Here is one of my favourite lines in the book:
Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
Copyright: McCarthy, C. 2006. The Road. London: Picador.
I featured some of STINGO's work earlier this year over here. The magazine has grown since then, churning new, exiting and original photo spreads for a hungry public. They have also showcased some of Kenya's emerging design talent such as Sheila Amolo, Kardi Kepha and Cyrus Kabiru not to mention their beautiful models. A uniquely Kenyan concept by a young and talented bunch.
Other than the unfortunate album cover, the group brought back the Kenyan Ballad, and on top of that made it cool again to serenade women with cool vibes and fancy guitar work. Their universal appeal is further heightened by the number of Tusker Project Fame wannabes that did their songs (and failed) and the fact that it is the only CD that my whole family can listen to on road trips and all. My mum even did a little whoop when they performed on TPF last Sunday.
Discover BONK for their serious trendy slim fit tees as well as their solidly coloured fitted polos. The brand, wholly Kenyan and all, has built a small cult like following and they don't skimp on the quality plus everything is made in Kenya so it's good for the economy.
Browse through their exiting catalogue at www.bonk.co.ke or visit their sole outlet in Mpaka Road, Westlands (below Red Tape).
For the first time in year my family and I sat down to watch a movie. Conflicting schedules as well as international boundaries meant that we were never together throughout the year. Anyway there was nothing to watch on TV and anything after 9 o'clock does not pander to my father's conservative sensibilities. I finally found 'Singin' in the Rain' playing on TCM - a musical with a good ol PG rating-. The plot of the movie was straight forward, the acting and dialogue whimsical and a tad over thee top. It's true what they said they don't make them like they used to. At the end, there was a happy ending, the guy got the gal and everything was as it should have been. Here's to Gene Kelly with his ludicrous choreography and kitschy singing, he really made my day and reinstated family Movie Night.
While browsing in a bookshop I stumbled on a rack labeled Moleskine. The neatly ordered books sat in their racks unassuming but there was something about their bland exterior and unassuming looks that screamed sophistication. My first Molskine I bought was the Pocket Ruled Notebook in hard cover. On the from it read "The legendary notebook of Chatwin , Picasso and Hemingway" and almost immediately my writers curiosity was aroused fueled by my vanity. My second Moleskine was a large red diary for 2011. It seats unopened on my desk but I can't help but admire the clean design, the vivid colour or the over the top price tag. But I like the books maybe because I'm vain or perhaps because writing everything down the old-fashioned way has a genuine charm to it, as if my writings will be eternal like Hemingway.
I don't buy clothes often but when I do I try to buy clothes with timeless style or something I'm going to wear for at least a year. My father, a well-dressed man, always emphasises the importance of quality and style. For instance he still wears the same pair of wingtips he bought 15 years ago. Sure it costs a bundle (and could probably employ a couple of Grade A government employees very happy) but a good pair of jeans like a good shoe should last for many years, weathering all sorts of seasonal or even cyclical fashion fads.
After months of searching I finally found the pair by Gap for their 1969 Premium Jeans collection. The jeans were moderately priced, for some, for me they blew right through my clothing budget for the year but they were worth it. I like the simplicity of the construction, the jeans are not unnecessarily faded, distressed or torn making them a truly versatile component of ones wardrobe. So there you have it. This seasons must have item - the perfect pair of jeans. Pair these with a good blazer or slim leather jacket and formal boots. A pair Converse would also be fine.
I stubled upon this picture on the website of American GQ and lingered for afew seconds or hours. 18, year old Taylor Lautner is certainly a fine specimen of a human being. Shame he can't act, but that does not stop my sister from obsessing over his films or me drooling like newborn.
Now that we've come to the end of the year, I like Oprah, would like to do a series of my favourite things this year. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to write but I'm going to do it anyway.
Nothing says Gospel/ Funky Soul like the Staple Sisters. Respect Yourself was a feet thumping hit in the pre disco days. Their father, Roebuck 'Pops' Staples (the kast S was dropped due to the particular difficulty in pronouncing Staples Singers.) Pops benevolence could be heard throughout many of their songs like 'Respect Yourself', every note they sang rang true as they were ebbed on by their father and his guitar.
Unfortunately for them, disco hit towards the end of the 70s and Stax, they're label, folded leaving them without a niche to hold on to. The legacy of the Staples Family leaves on through their music - easy to listen to, egalitarian, all encompassing and comforting. ''I'll take you there' was an undeniable hit but there are more mellow tracks like "I See", "It's a Long Walk to DC", "Slow Train" and "Got to be Some Changes". Some are mellow, melancholic and wreaked with unspeakable sorrow, others are uplifting, a funky island in the turbulence of the American 60s and 70s. For me what I like most about the Staples was the way they mixed good old fashion church gospel with subtle yet hard-hitting political confrontation. They remain as relevant today as they always did - angels whispering it's going to be OK.
Also worth a listen is Mavis Staples' -the groups husky-voiced lead singer's- brand new studio album "We'll Never Turn Back".
It's been two years since my guka died. It was sudden, for me a least but then again his medical history had not been good. The man, a quiet enigma, was the sort of person I pictured everyones granddad to be; benovelant and quitely proud of his grandchildren. He was one of the people who fostered my love for reading. The first book he ever gave me was an old African Writer's Series, Peter Abrahams 'Mine Boy'. I was about 13. The book was simple enough that it could be read and enjoyed in my youth and innocence. Subsequent readings brought about deeper shades of meaning. The main plot never changing, the characters growing more complex. The second book he gave me was A Long Walk to Freedom, a collection of political letters and essays by the then imprisoned Nelson Mandela.
He was a teacher and a pacifist, a man who watched the country he had helped build crumble into mediocrity and utter despair yet he never had a bad thing to say about anyone. His wisdom was sought by all but most of all his children. Despiter their shortcomings he loved his children unconditionally and mostly did not interfere in their lives. The third and final book he gave me made me question the man he was, the man that was. The book is now misplaced, my mother, no doubt found it and destroyed it, I have since forgotten its title. Briefly, the book was a coming of age tale about a handsome but akward young man in 1950s America. The protagonists name, with an obvious sense of irony, was Gaylord and yes he was very gay. Well, the story was touching and it helped me through some stuff I was going through at the time. It gave me a sense of hope, and that perhaps my grandfather was a liberal.
So Guka here's to you, a son of a clergy man, father, grandfather and friend. But most of all you were a friend of mine.
