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generally, i am of the least-possible-effort school of fashion.
there's no particular difference between me working and me sitting around--i try to tuck my shirt in for work, but i forget most of the time.
i dont do yards.
i dont go near lawns. they scare me. so uniform.
when i've lived in paris, i noticed that everyone--and i mean everyone (except for americans)----i saw was dressed better than i was.
i remember passing a bus stop and seeing a guy passed out on a bench who had pissed himself and who appeared to have spent ALOT of time outside.
this made me think: "homeless people here dress better than i do."
it was just another step in my recognition that no matter what i did, and no matter how long i tried, i would still not be french. i hadn't been terribly occupied with the idea of becoming french, so this did not upset me. it just confirmed that there was no point in trying. which i wasn't. i even found a way to be happy about not feeling like i had to expend the effort to do something i wasn't expending the effort to do.
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a gramophone its corrugated trumpet silver handle
spinning dog. such faithfulness it hear
it make you sick.
-kamau brathwaite
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