Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Soapless Cities

Just when you thought Jane Austin's Marianne Dashwood reflected the ultimate in unrequited love, in Soapless City, by Jamesola Langola, we witness Nigel, an ambitious dry cleaner in the south of London, who has fallen for Mary, a voluptuous marketing assistant at Clive Christian perfumes. With heart-rending tension from the families who oppose each other for political beliefs (Mary is out and Nigel in) this sexually charged novel is peppered by Brexit: with all european trade deals gone bonkers neither Nigel nor Mary (nor any Brit for the record) can wash themselves. Mary qualifies her fiancĂ© as a "stinking mule" but she falls in her own trap because she starts to stink too. Can they both go on stinking and hating each other? Who can save this relationship? Questions and mysteries abound and the ice becomes constantly thinner between the protagonists as time goes on.

Yet somewhere in a dark basement in Sussex a certain Tony, a scientist with a big ambition and even a bigger mouth, is working frantically to produce a new soap. A soap that does all. A soap that washes all. A soap so powerful it calls itself "Powerbull". 




Still, will this soap get on the shelves of the Icelandic frozen food chain before Mary and Nigel separate? And what about the English national football team? What about it?
As Brexit turns London and other metropolises into "Soapless Cities" and tense battling fields, Mary and Nigel's egg-breaking relationship is just a detail like a painting of Bruegel's.




Langola's  writing courses like a river, sometimes black with mud, sludge and stains, sometimes bright with moon bleach. Danger of love is omnipresent, even after combat recedes; nature careless and the lack of soap is monumental. "This is the novel of the century" offering hallucinations caused by privation, be it physical detergent or hunger or erotic yearning of the soul they are unapologetically evoked in this masterpiece. Langola exploits Brexits aftershocks in the sumptuous futuristic dystopian novel that one loves as an allergy loves a sneeze. Not since Tale of Two Cities has literature reached such a level.

A Booker Prize runner up. The Gardian.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

FBI love song to Apple











 Based on the song, “You Don't Bring Me Flowers”
Barbra Streisand & Neil Diamond
1978


[FBI:]
You don't 
bring me code
You don't sing me love songs
[Apple:]
You hardly talk to me anymore
When you run through that text at the end of the day...
[FBI:]
I remember when you couldn't wait to love me
Used to hate to decipher me
Now after cracking the whip late at night
[Apple:]
When it's good for you, babe
And you're finally in a plight 
[FBI:]
When you just roll over and turn out the light...
And you don't bring me code anymore
[Apple:]
It used to be so artificial
[FBI:]
It used to be...





[Apple:]
To talk about forever
[FBI:]
Mmm...
[Apple:]
But the judge says it don't count anymore
She just lay on the floor
Till we encrypt our customers away
[FBI:]
And baby I remember all the things you taught me
[Apple:]
I taught you how to double slash I taught you how to
[FBI:]
Laugh and cry!Well, I sure know now how to lie
[Apple:]
So you think I could show you the fucking door?
[FBI:]
So you think I ditch an say u goodbye?
You don't bring me code any more...
[Both:]
Well, you think I could learn  to say “encrypt me”...
[Neil:]
'Cause you don't say you need me;
[FBI:]
You don't crack me phones;
[Both:]


You don't bring me code anymore...


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Humpty Dumpty about to propose




He wanted to be sure. It was time to propose. A wedding yolked in love. If she was the right one, would she pick up the pieces?
(He chuckled to himself, thinking he had picked her up only six months ago)
Now it would be her turn
Only he had a doubt

He had tested her
taste, style, energy, desires
Perhaps more time was needed to mould her
Only there was no time
Now he had to test her heart
And in two minutes she was to arrive at the wall

Mr. Humpty thought: after all two broken legs, some broken ribs
was a relatively small price to pay
for Eternal Love
The music and the refrain sounded in his head
"Hear comes the bride, here comes the bride"

He saw her car,
rocked his body and pushed himself off the top
His body crumpled in a dash as it hit the ground
"And all the media coverage and all the wise men,
couldn't put Humpty together again."