Currylingus

Love, We Must Part Now

2009-11-14T12:20:00.003-05:00

Love, we must part now: do not let it be
Calamitious and bitter. In the past
There has been too much moonlight and self-pity:
Let us have done with it: for now at last
Never has sun more boldly paced the sky,
Never were hearts more eager to be free,
To kick down worlds, lash forests; you and I
No longer hold them; we are husks, that see
The grain going forward to a different use.

There is regret. Always, there is regret.
But it is better that our lives unloose,
As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light,
Break from an estuary with their courses set,
And waving part, and waving drop from sight.

- Philip Larkin

Godspeed

2009-07-12T13:16:00.011-04:00

This past Friday, my parents moved from here:

To here:

They took with them thirty years of their own memories, packed tightly alongside my sense of a place called home.

Porbandar simultaneously devastates and grounds me. It's just that kind of town. I'm hella excited to get reaquainted.

Dubai, well, Dubai is nothing to me without the friends it now holds ransom from me. In the late, great Dorothy Parker's words:

Oh, seek, my love, your newer way;
I'll not be left in sorrow.
So long as I have yesterday,
Go take your damned tomorrow!

And so we part. So long, sandlands...

Come play

2009-05-22T11:19:00.003-04:00

My friend G ji and I are throwing a do to introduce Toronto to Chiraag's Pardon My Hindi magic. Koushik of Stones Throw is spinning. Oh. Yeah.

In Loving Memory: Hiralaxmi Thanki, 1933-2007

2008-01-02T17:04:00.000-05:00

Dear Ba,

It was only a few days ago that you were telling Bhairavi and I the story of how you got your tattoos. For as long as I can remember, whenever I picture you in my mind, I always picture the seven dots on the back of your hand as well. I regret that it took me so long to ask you how those little dots came to be. I used to think that they served some vague religious purpose because I had seen the same designs on so many women in Porbandar. To my surprise, you contradicted that idea by telling us that you got your tattoos because it was the cool thing to do when you were a little girl. You told us how you used twigs, dye, and some strange plant powder to give yourself the tattoos. I remember being shocked and thinking that that was just about the coolest thing I had ever heard! You laughed when I told you this.

You laughed, as always, without judgment and with a soft abandon that made me feel as if all was right with the world. From my birth onwards, this was the effect you had on me. You could calm me when others could not. You told me that when I was a child, all you had to do was run your index finger from my forehead to the tip of my nose and I would stop crying. You were too sweet to say this but I was a horribly stubborn child, and the fact that you could calm me with such a small movement speaks to your wisdom and to the trust you inspired in all of us.

Whenever I saw you playing with Darsh, and then Aryan, I was reminded of my own childhood and of Bhairavi's childhood. The simple purity of your actions made me grateful that we have been lucky enough to have someone like you in our lives. I regret that I was never able to tell you how much I appreciated your tel maalish, your cooking, your hand's grip on mine when crossing Bombay gullys on those long ago summer vacations. In recent years, I regret that I wasn't able to see you more often. I hope that when you heard my distant voice over the phone you felt as loved as I did. I wish I could have made your winters warmer, your pain disappear, and the doctors unnecessary. The last few days that Bhairavi and I spent chatting with you will forever remain fresh in my memory.

Through you, I was better able to understand myself. Through you, I was better able to understand my family. Through you, I was able to see the world in the light of unconditional love.

I love you, Ba, you live on within us. May your soul be blessed and kept safe.

Mister Lonely

2007-12-05T10:29:00.000-05:00

There exist, on this wondrous dynamo of a planet, elitist thugs in every cranny. I am such a thug because many of my tastes have been lovingly culled from obscurity. I am also elitist because I value - actually, I'm downright proud of - my attraction to the...ahem...common circus (cheap ANTM thrills and The Hills). Having had the absolute pleasure of spending oodles of time with the quality-snob type of thug (cough), I have become quite protective of my trashy sensibilities. They really do complete me.

Circus is a good word to describe the lunacy I controversially partake in on a regular basis. Thank-you, Tyra Banks, for...EVERYTHING, and then some. I do believe that the unabashed pleasure I am comfortable in receiving from obviously rubbish programming, invaluably informs my ability to enjoy other types of absurdity. Specifically, the type that is critically discussed and is hence qualified as Good Taste.

The prettiest boy in the whole wide world, Diego Luna, plays a Michael Jackson impersonator who meets Samantha Morton's Monroe personified at a retirement home gig. He is convinced to fly away with her to the Scottish isles where her husband's hokey crew of impersonators is building their own Galt's Gulch. Like stereotyped Somewhere Born Confused Somethings, the impersonators seem to hold steadfastly to their alter-egos and gulching ambitions until real life begins to spider its way to uncomfortable proximity.

Oh yeah, Werner Herzog appears in priestly garb surrounded by nuns from Panama who deliver food aid by plane. He sometimes throws them out of said plane. Clearly, these occurrences form the best parts. CLEARLY.

Mine eyes were glued to the screen like mine mouth to strawberry Kit Kats. This is a departure from my viewing of Korine's previous effort, 'Gummo', which I liked but will never be able to watch without turning away at some parts. Bad boy is all growed up and spending time on creating wildly entertaining yet disjointed images. Even more disjointed is the nature of what Korine is trying to say. Identity and faith and community and iconography. Gratefully, the narration steers clear of the preachy path. In fact, it tends to get scandalously flippant.

From the precious opening sequence of a masked MJ riding a mini-bike with Bobby Vinton crooning in the background to SKYDIVING NUNS. This film is an exercise in quality absurdity. I would watch it again and some bits, yet again. Sometimes, shit doesn't have to be deep or mature or intellectually accessible to only the top 97th percentile to be good. Imagination is a funny thing. It equals the playing field for me. Watching blue habited nuns jump out of planes on BMXs becomes just as rewarding as watching Tyra's starving slave hopefuls posing in stilettos while climbing a rock wall.

Below is a clip of one of my favourite scenes, MJ doing his thing:

Fixating

2007-11-15T23:15:00.000-05:00

I am weak in the face of such hotness.

Margot at the Wedding

2007-09-11T17:18:00.000-04:00

As if I needed reminding about the nature of my misanthropic, corroded, husk of a soul.

Hai Bhagwaan, I hate everyone in this movie. Margot, the didactic bish; her son Claude, an amazing piece of Styrofoam, formed of freak amino acids; his estranged aunt Pauline, in all her moody and gutless splendour; and, her fiancé Malcolm, the resident buffoon. Any remaining characters don’t really matter, and serve only to further my disdain for all humanity as seen through Baumbach’s eyes.

Taking on unsavoury pasts and bitter sisters, the plot turns predictable but its specifics are humorous. In a particularly catchy first half, the two sisters are seen openly melting into cesspools of passive-aggression through varying stages of sobriety, aided wonderfully by the extended clan. Hooray for neuroses. I was never one to resist the charms of catty wenches.

Done-to-death family dysfunction works in this flick for two reasons: Acting and style. The casting is divine. Nicole Kidman is perfectly believable as a self-absorbed asshole. Jennifer Jason-Leigh can never harm, in my opinion. Jack Black, is, well, funny. Also, John Turturro needs to be in every film that is ever made. These players are complemented by wicked harsh shot-cuts. Chopping into the middle of dramatic crescendos, handheld shaking, dark autumn colours that made me shiver with thoughts of East-coast wind. All of this created a mighty tempo to push along a script that is happy to meander, albeit in interesting ways.

I was disappointed with the ending. It was probably trying to make some sort of mysterious, open-ended statement, about happiness or such, but I got none of that. It was left incomplete. I feel this way because the first half left me longing for more evil dialogue, more funnies, and more absurdity. As the film slipped into convention, I fell out of blind love and into affectionate “meh” territory. I mean that as a glitterati “meh”, which is to say that I quite enjoyed my viewing experience but have my head stuck too far up my own arse to make more of an effort with my adjectives.

Sad Vacation

2007-09-10T22:17:00.000-04:00

Blah, blah, Kenji lives an orphan's life. Performs odd jobs. Manages to saddle himself with his dead friend's delusional sister and a Chinese stowaway child. Finds the mother who abandoned him at an early age, and her new family, by chance. Mum is bat-shit loco. He struggles with vengeance issues.

I only started tuning into the plot about forty-five minutes in. And, really? With characters like these, fuck a plot. Also, this is the first Japanese movie I've seen in a cinema hall in many years, so I'm completely biased.

The first of two Japanese films on my ballot, Sad Vacation made me want to laugh and kill. But not at the same time. First, I wanted some blood. Not because of uncontrollable rage but due to insensitive annoyance on my part (Kenji's mother's neck needed a good wringing). Then, right after the kill, before the blood splatters turned cold, I wanted to laugh. Not due to dissociative identity disorder but because bubbles make me giggle. How else would plot resolution be possible in contemporary Japanese cinema if it wasn't for bubbles?

So, like, such as that, was, like, essentially, a good review.

And another thing. Meet my/your new favourite Japanese import: Tadanobu Asano. He has played "Kenji" in every one of the five flicks I've seen him in, but he's good at that sort of humorous brooding. Get thee to a Survive Style 5+ viewing, stat.

All in a T.I.F.F.y

2007-09-09T10:09:00.000-04:00

The Toronto International Film Festival is here. Five days. Five films. All is full of nub.

Let the nerdery begin.

"In love, as in gluttony, pleasure is a matter of the utmost precision"

2007-06-14T15:26:00.000-04:00

One month and four years ago, I embarked on post-University life with only one mission in mind: To bake a cake. My epicurean activator and muse extraordinaire, Baneeya, had taken to seducing my oven-phobic Indian kundi with sugary dreams. My sweet tooth ached with longing, and whiffs of freshly-baked moistness, simply slathered in cream, haunted my every waking move. After tearing my diploma out of some dude's grip and shaking Ian Handsome-man-singh's hand for a second too long, I got the hell out of Dodge and rode into Baneeya's city with my life's belongings and a one-way ticket to the Middle East.

What followed was a blissed out week of friends, goodbyes, trivial pursuit marathons, drunken arm-wrestling, and eating cake for dinner. While playing sous to her chef, Baneeya guided me through the various intricacies of baking a perfect triple-layered carrot/maple/ginger concoction. Something like this. Evidently, I'm still talking about that cake.

My culinary skills have improved since then. I now fall closer to the "knows what she's doing" marker, as opposed to "fumbling". But I am nowhere near chef status. And I need another lesson in baking. Slippery slope, that. I can't bake on the regular lest I give myself and my loved ones coronary disease. A special occasion is needed.

Baneeya says:

I'm hoping to take a train to T.O. on Thurs. Aug. 16th.

Actually, I just realized that what we should do is make another cake!! We'll make a feast!

I recently created a peach-avocado-serrano chili salsa to eat with grilled chicken, fish, or just nay-chose. Delicious. Also, I made strawberry icecream yesterday...

Good lord. Like being taken to church by a sinner.

"Universe, you've done it again!"

2007-05-15T13:59:00.000-04:00

The hardest lesson I've ever had to learn involved opening my gob and asking for input. Instead of, you know, pummelling head-first and solitary into big, bad life. Now, I ask all the time. Better watch out with your emails, 'cause I'll ask. I'll ask you, your moms, your pet, your man, no one's sacred. This is not to say that I'm brave. I'm scared witless to ask questions directly relating to my personal future/state-of-mind/happiness. Nevertheless, when I ask such questions, even flippantly or in jest, I get some kickass answers. Perhaps not answers to solve my every dilemma but answers that will make them appear that much less daunting.

If you, like me, feel yourself adrift in a sea of maddening options then read some comfort in the below expression of solidarity:

I hear the 20's crisis, I still can't believe that I'm not a cowboy or a movie star or something like that. Instead, I am living in the enemy's country and working as a social worker, getting my ass kicked by little kids.

Also looking for a way to make money and travel. The problem with that seems to be that they are contradictory life items. I think the trick is to work and THEN travel, but its hard to do on a regular job. I'm not in the place right now when I can go quitting jobs for 3-4 months and then going back to work. That's just no way to get a stable career.

Part of me wants to travel to Peru and live in the forest and kill tigers, while the other part of me wants to buy a house.

Jesus, the nomadic people had it right. Let's liquidate all of our assets and move to Mongolia, live in yurts and use horse shit as fuel.

On the bright side, I am buying a hybrid car in a few weeks, so I am becoming slightly green which somehow seemed like an important decision when I was more socially conscious....I think I remember what being a Canadian is like.

Sorry for the disjointed message, I was up late last night snorting coke out of some dude's prostate.

Thanks, Shaggy, here's to the great wide open exciting piece of shit 21st century...

On a related note, if I end up in Ontario post-retirement then I need to build a yurt in cottage country. That much is certain. If anyone knows the pre-retirement "how to" then, yes, I am open to suggestions.

Prolix

2007-04-24T13:00:00.000-04:00

-:- Salubrious -:-

In healthy aches we trust. Bodystep Mondays.

-:- Mellifluous -:-

I was going to go with 'prurient' but I feel like playing nice for a change.

-:- Resplendent -:-

Summertime above St. Patrick Street; Food, drink, and hot concrete.

-:- Plangent -:-

Panda Bear + The Besnard Lakes

Kings of Leon + Grizzly Bear

-:- Vocabularious -:-

World Wide Words: Higgler extraordinaire.

Pissy Peripherals

2007-04-15T19:26:00.000-04:00

I just got fucked. No really, my new external hard drive is malfunctioning and my heart is broken. Not a huge deal in the scheme of things but fuck off, I was going to back my life up today.

...And then this dearly enraged voice (not in my head, thanks) asked me to stop messing about. So, instead of throwing this sumanabitch against the wall I'm going to practice my karaoke, and dance like LV does at about 2:30 into the following:

Repeat x 10.

Ain't Nothing but a Hr0ndog

2007-04-11T14:52:00.000-04:00

A technophobe mostly talks to you in person, but a geek is happy to be with you by texting your phone, flirting with you in a chat room, Skyping you, Twittering just in case you're on your vibrating couch (NSFW), sending funny cell-phone snapshots to your e-mail, playing online games, commenting on your blog, Digging articles that interest you, seducing you by instant message...[Link]

Regina Lynn is my hero. If you have been ensconed within a cocoon for the last three years, then take this link to her Wired column archives, and abuse it nicely.

The Rhythm Method

2006-12-16T03:33:00.000-05:00

A tip of the hat to Besque.

Dancing Dora the Explorer? Yeah, cute with that something phenomenal is the order of the day.

*scuttles off to practice*

In which I walk around with a hand over my crotch (Updated!)

2006-12-15T13:41:00.000-05:00

Neha says:
want to hear something horrible?

Youngflizz says:
shoot

Neha says:
two hours ago, i unzippered the fly on my 4 yr old jeans and now it won't come back up, i've tried everything

Neha says:
and i'm at work

Youngflizz says:
bahahaha

Youngflizz says:
bahahaha

Youngflizz says:
yeah

Neha says:
hiding behind desks and binders like a 12 yr old boy with a hard on

Youngflizz says:
that does suck

Youngflizz says:
hahahaha

Youngflizz says:
safety pins are your answer

Youngflizz says:
that or your jacket or a sweater tied around your waste, just so

Neha says:
i'm not wearing a sweater. i tried my wool jacket and just looked like a dumbass

Youngflizz says:
you'll note that, exercising gentlemanly discretion and sensitivity, i did not ask why your zipper was down.

Neha says:
in fact, your discretion is so gentlemanly that you've just indirectly asked me that very question

Youngflizz says:
bahahaha

Youngflizz says:
not asking

Youngflizz says:
i'm sure

Youngflizz says:
it was something innocent

Youngflizz says:
the using of the bathroom

Youngflizz says:
for example

Youngflizz says:
and that is fine

Youngflizz says:
NOT ASKING NOT ASKING

Neha says:
what can i say, i volunteered for fem testing an alien prototype

Neha says:
ahahaha

Youngflizz says:
hahahaha

Neha says:
yes, the bathroom, and then i spent like 20 min in the stall with my pants off trying to make shit work

Neha says:
and my colleague was like "umm, neha, what're you doing?" and there were exasperated grunts escaping my mouth and it was all just really awful

Youngflizz says:
hahahaha

Youngflizz says:
that does suck

Youngflizz says:
safety pins?

Neha says:
got none, i've asked around

Youngflizz says:
yo, that sucks

Youngflizz says:
BIG TIME

Neha says:
if i stand completely straight it's ok

Youngflizz says:
just don't move

+++

Who's a classy broad now? Can't wait for the metro ride home. Stupid short jacket. Note to self: Wear more skirts.

+++

Pum-paa-paaaa...there was a tooth, it had bent upwards. A snaggletooth, if you will. So I held it between a pair of large scissors and poked at it with a thumbtack till it came out. Now, easy up and down no problem. Snaggle Attack™, coming soon to an infomercial near you!

Michel Gondry: Skills Galore

2006-12-13T12:15:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'm not really into feet but I sure love smart people. And this is some crazy shit, courtesy of Michel Gondry:

Love Mix '06

2006-12-06T16:19:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I go to Texas for a long weekend, for a session with my sisters (Nova Kitty and Chums). I'm expecting hugs and kisses and soul-warming goodness. In light of this fantastic occasion I wanted to make a mix. And a mix is indeed what I started to make.

It began with an idea of cyborg love. I'm big on that idea as of late. Serious, Computer Love, vocoders, and trying to find God between mechanically timed notes. Utopia, indeed. So then I found that most of the tune selection included sessy female vocals. Maybe cyborg love needed to be more specific, female cyborgs with inexpressive voices pretending to feel love. Tried that for a bit then started listening to some dudes with soothing voices and got a bit hot and bothered to tell you the truth. At this point I decided that a MISHMASH was the best way to go. And it will make you want to sex, dance and cry at the same time. Now that's healthy!

Mix, lovers?

xox06 - Best heard while taking a bubble bath. Scroll to mid-page to find the link in teeny font. Drop me an email if you can't open it for some shitty reason.

Tracklist, my sweets?

1. Lindstrom - Music In My Mind
2. The Sisters Love - Give Me Your Love
3. Cassie - Miss Your Touch
4. Uffie - Pop the Glock
5. Ciara - Promise (Siik remix)
6. INOJ- Love You Down
7. DJ Rupture feat. Sister Nancy - A Little More Oil
8. Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
9. Mary J Blige - You Are My Everything
10. Robin Thicke - Got 2 Be Down
11. Slum Village feat. D'Angelo - Tell Me
12. Vikter Duplaix - Nothing Like Your Touch
13. Sylvester - I Need Somebody to Love Tonight
14. Sade - Cherry Pie
15. Miss Kitten - Dub About Me
16. Ada - Cool My Fire

Please listen in order. No, really, I mean it. It isn't really a mix, no mixing happens, it's a "mix tape", treat it as such.

Enjoy. Pray that I return safe with at least a dozen items covered in the confederate flag. Also, pray that I don't get stopped at customs and probed in awful ways. USA!USA!USA!

New, in Haiku

2006-11-28T19:40:00.001-05:00

Shiny new templete
Please help my archive drop-down
Die H T M Hell

Feel Real

2006-11-19T16:38:00.000-05:00

No place to be ending but somewhere to start

The longer I stay away the harder it becomes to find my way back here to this space. I'll just jump right in then, ignoring my necessary guilt for depriving myself of doing something I love.

Am I healthy? Yes. I've been gymming at least three days a week: treadmill, bike, stairs, weights, dance. Am I OK? A few days ago I thought maybe, later I thought maybe not. Regardless, I have finally allowed myself to realize that shit's going to be OK even if it's not. And that feels just fine.

Every note, comment, email, hug, thought, wish and word of advice has made feel invincible. Thank you. You make me feel...Mighty Real (download and turn it way UP).

I'm raising my bottle of Perrier to your health and happiness. To my future plans and new friends. To blogging like a motherfucking maniac on the floor.

And if all else fails, I have a Plan B. I'm going to become a Qawwali clapper:

Ruminating

2006-10-14T20:11:00.001-04:00

I was feeling sad. My parents just visited me, see. You already knew that. It had been a year since I had seen them, last year it had been two. Welcome to the life of a 1st generation NRI has been. If home was a hero he'd be making filmi pulling motions with my arm. Me, I'd be getting all fake-oo mad. Singing some sainya mori bainya shit.

I wrote the above a few weeks ago. But other pressing matters are now informing my fingers. In these five years past...

...I wish I had cultivated more meaningful relantionships rather than aquaintanceships

...I wish I had spent more time in the world, outside of my personal sphere of existance

...I wish I hadn't given so much thought to things that made my nights unbearable

...I wish I wasn't wishing that I had fucked around

...I wish I had done an NGO internship instead of moving to Toronto

...I wish we had remained strangers

...Most of all, I wish there was something I could have done so that this bitter post need never have been written

Now I shall take your leave and continue pouring my eyes out over some Rumi.

I said, Thou art harsh, like such a one.'
'Know,' he replied,
'That I am harsh for good, not from rancor and spite.
Whoever enters saying, "This I," I smite him on the brow;
For this is the shrine of Love, o fool! it is not a sheep cote!
Rub thine eyes, and behold the image of the heart.'

What It Is

2006-09-11T19:31:00.000-04:00

In a city continually propelling itself to the other end of the spectrum, all I see is days of old, baby. It could be that this is the first time in 14 years that I'm here together with my parents. Over 16 years ago I stepped off a plane and into almost instantaneous adulthood. My parents, into recession. I finally got the chance to be a younger sibling here. It has its ups and downs ;-) This town ain't the same without my brothers from another mother here to hang out with.

During my last visit 7 years ago, I was an exuberant freshman with two braids, a penchant for fitty cent navel tattoos and a superhuman zest for all things social. The latter being the only remanent. Thanggod! Those two weeks were some enchanted, by. They bore fruit in the form of a most unlikely friendship, the feel of which I had never experienced before nor in the ever after.

This morning at 6 we spoke again for the first time in 3 years. While talking politics and whatnot as the sun came up, I felt at home, happy. My nostalgia vanished as we inadvertently recreated many a scene from our past. Whispers, giggles, and ragging on each others voting choices. Furthering communication between the granolus stinkamus and cowboyus triggerhappius kinds. We are an anomaly.

This afternoon my friend moved to Baghdad.

Due to pesky circumstance we never got to say goodbye - or hello for that matter - in person. I'm not much of a believer in divine guardians but I do believe in the principle of Pratītyasamutpāda. And I hope that his actions may lead him to an end of his choosing. And that they may safely carry him back home.

Calgary would mean nothing to me without its ability to put me in touch with awesome human beings.

I couldn't meet dear Bird this afternoon due to the fact that I live on the edge of the world and the transit system is shitty. I did have a good chat with her before she left for the wilderness of Fort Mac. Christmas time she is mine.

Tomorrow I shall meet the onliest blogger on the menu for this trip...*drum roll*...Badmash!

The Mothership Arrives

2006-09-04T19:20:00.000-04:00

My bluds have landed. How mummy-daddy and Bairoo made it through customs with so much food I will never know. Thank you Canada for not checking their bags. I am in chevdo heaven. If you are ever in Harrow, Middlesex make a stop at Pradip Sweets and eat everything in sight. It's my fai's (father's sister) shoppe, their chocolate barfi is to die for.

Ah yes, the fam, they are here. Finally. I haven't seen them in over a year but this reunion is bittersweet. While I will now have Bairoo back in my life to hug and bug my parents will return to an empty house. I'm worried that they're going to be lonely. I'm scared that this will make me want to move back :-)

SWEET BABY JESUS, NOW I DON'T HAVE TO SPEND MONEY ON MOVABLE TYPE

2006-08-15T14:59:00.000-04:00

Blogger gets blizanged in beta.

Dynamic serving, controlled access, MOTHERFUCKING LABELS Y'ALL, more site feed options, drag & drop layout changes (no more html/css!) spell check using Gmail format, and more.

Take the tour or start a new blog in beta to check stuff out. Dynamic pages make a huge difference to the overall experience. Especially with layout edits, which appear automatically as if by magic. Magic, I say!

I lowe you Google.

Seat Sale!

2006-08-13T16:12:00.000-04:00

Sat, 09 Sep 06 Flight 14:15 Depart Toronto, ON (YYZ)16:26 Arrive Calgary, AB (YYC)

Sat, 16 Sep 06 Flight WS 672 17:05 Depart Calgary, AB (YYC)22:46 Arrive Toronto, ON (YYZ)

Off to Calgary on 9/9, yeehaw dingly dangly rootin' tootin' honky tonky Calgary. Go see my grandpappy and grandmammy and uncle/aunty/cousin and YOU. That's right, alla you. Y'all are reading this and you are about to email me to tell that "Yes!" you are indeed going to be in cowtown between those dates and "Why, yes!" you would love to show me around your sessy town.

One more YOU, you who I haven't talked to in years and whose January email I haven't replied to because I'm feeling akward and who I would love to see again, you need to send me another email and take a day off because I'm coming to ruin your city.