A little bit of Calcutta colour to start the day, and now I will begin writing. To recap the sordid details of my life, last night, I went to my last Intermediate level 1 Salsa class, and start level 2 next week. Mad twists and turns, inside and out. Sometimes I feel like a spinning top in that class.
Post class, brother T. and I went to Article 8, a gorgeous little store on College Street, where his friend Maya was exhibiting some of her graffiti photographs, taken over ten years in different parts of the world. There aren’t too many on display, given the store size, but the lovely thing about them is that they are highly personalized, with little notes that attend each photo to explain their context, both in relation to the space and the photographer. It was at Article 8 that I also discovered the rather fetching brand fbpbbp, a tongue-in-cheek take on fubu. fbpbbp is an acronym (although, try pronouncing this vowel-less word) for “For Brown People By Brown People.” (Another brilliant, and extremely-funny-for-those-who-get-the-joke desi t-shirt designer is Bosedk designs. Wicked, wicked, wicked. Wickeder than fbpbbp.) Anyway, fbpbbp has a really cool t-shirt with all these brown people’s faces on it, and I need to own it. I checked out their site, and discovered that they had committed a cardinal sin. They spelled Gandhi “Ghandi.” Nothing chaps my hide more than people spelling his name wrong. And given that these designers are supposed to be brown, the crime was made worse. So of course, last night, I dashed off an email to them about it. What resulted was a very entertaining verbal sparring match between a stranger at the other end of the internet ether and me at home on my couch. We both acknowledged each other’s very large egos, declared a truce, and moved on.