the matt kennedy show

everything olde is new again

wow.
i cannot feel my feet
they tingle
not like pins and ether
it’s not quite real

like the feeling in my feet
which might be a simile
if i used like or as
but i didn’t….

and i don’t remember last night.

pretty sure you were there
as mischiff, as armchair and as a drag and ko.

this morning
i don’t remember.

do you ever want too?
you know
bring the rightousness of your fury
down?

mental health be damned

I feel a little bit more Holden today than I have in years…and you know it sort of feels nice in a sad way.

Just finished helping some of our illustrious students put the final touches on a cultural showcase. They have basically taken the show I wrote and directed in December and done their own version of it, mainly because some of them hadn’t realised how much fun we ere having when we made it. Good for them and good to know that the impact sits in. They thanked me and my partner ( we are the Performing Arts Department) publically, then hauled us onto the stage and “forced” us to learn a big dance number, much to the amusement of the audience. I’m certain it’ll be on youtube under the title “White Morons ruin event by trodding all over Nepal.” Look for it. It’ll be as big as something with kittens.

Still very busy and trying desperately to move forward with my work with the CHAOSCOMPLEX brotherhood. For those of you out of the loop, some very hyper talented mates and myself have created a production company. Still early days but we will eventually take over the world. it’s nice.

In other news a local theatre here has contacted me and wants me to speak about performance and then actually do some. I agreed but now i actually have to put something together. which is what i’ll be doing next seeing as they want me to do all this on Thursday. yikes.

so good night to the eat me beat me lady, goodbye to conan, goodbye to JD, and so long to the thing from cloverfield, whatever the hell that was.

mK

yes that’s right everyone, we are back. alot has happened but long story short- I went to thailand for new years via North America.

lots of exciting times and good tales, which will continue tomorrow.

Till then, Fuck Jay leno.

Sorry everyone (anyone?), I realize that my posts are less frequent than promised but there is an actual reason or two for it.

First and foremost I have been very busy. Maybe too busy. Things are in full swing and it’s exciting to work with such eager young minds who believe that higher education is a privilege and not a right. These young women and hopefully future leaders crave knowledge and my most frequently heard phrase is, ‘ excuse me Mr. Kennedy sir, but WHY…”. It’s pretty awesome and a little awe-inspiring. It makes me work even harder. That being said I don’t know if they are learning but I’m giving it my all, which is the absolute least i can do.

Secondly, I am currently without a computer. That’s right gang, my PC has died. Bit the big one. Choked out. Toast, done and done. Of course I knew this day was coming and had done some creative rearrangement to get a replacement and all signs pointed to yes; I had procured from the university a brand new macbook that I’d streamlined for my (and your) needs. But alas, the proper owner of the computer needed it back suddenly for a multitude of reasons that i don’t really need to get into here.

Long story short, I am shit out of luck and out of a computation device for the time being. It’s problematic for a plethorah of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I work at a University and need a fucking computer to do my job. Sigh.

Now, as an employee of the University (man i just got a shiver like someone walked over my grave. hmmm i wonder what that means…) I am entitled to a desktop, which has actually arrived and is somewhere in the building. Of course the IT department has no actual idea as to where that someplace is, but I digress. It’s Bangladesh, this seems to be the way things work here so really, what can i do?

In other news:

I watched a building being built the other day. Umm yeah. Hindsight being 20/20 i wish i hadn’t because if my apartment was built using the same standards…like yikes scoob, that’s so not up to any code i know. Well except maybe the Wile E Coyote school of gravity. hat goes up will come down indeed. In-fucking-deed. Bangladeshi construction means danger. yes, yes it does.

Also saw what was left of a guy on the side of the road yesterday after he was hit in traffic. The human body only has 8 pints of blood in it. I am absolutely certain most of this mans eight pints was pouring out and pooling around him. Then there was the way the lower half of his body twist and swayed when they picked him up to put him on the back of the bicycle/platform/ambulance. Like a broken thing. Not natural. Not living. so uhh yeah.

I will try to write more as soon as I resolve this computer situation.

mK

the best part about being me is being me.
for the the record like, for those of you who like to keep quantatative-like score…it’s me touching you that makes it mostly real, most of the time…but all that being said, they mostly come at night, MOSTLY.

MOISTLY. MOS EISLEY?

Just got back from a week in Thailand having earned some time to process and reflect on everything that has been happening in my life recently.

Jesus what was I thinking?

Ever wake up one morning and wonder where the hell the time has gone? I swear to Christ I updated last week, but apparently that was last month. O.K. so it was more like two weeks ago but two weeks ago was last month… Jesus, blink and a lifetime can happen.

So here there has been some forward progress in the overall development of the university. Inside my own department I deal daily with the diplomacy and bullshit that happens in comitees and groups; making sure everyone shares their opinion, however useless, uninformed and off topic it may be. Most days I feel like I’m playing a game called two steps forward one step left. I’m a firm believer in making decisions and acting on them, efficiently and quickly. Make a choice, exhaust the possibilities and if it isn’t working, make the switch. Of course you can only do this if you are making actual decisions…not a lot of which seem to happening these days. At the end of the day all you can do is put your head down and try not to get any on you. It’s like I’m in the movie business again. Oh well fuck em if they can’t take a joke.

Speaking of not getting any on me, today’s topic is all about beggars. Here in Bangladesh begging isn’t as rampant as you might think. This isn’t to say it doesn’t exist, but there definitely seems to be varying levels, age groups and locations.

The young ones. Lets start with them. Here in Bangladesh there is a very real problem with “homeless” children begging in the street. These are the most persistant beggars I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived in the downtown east side of Vancouver! Last week as I was walking down the street, I watched a kid of no more than nine see me, put out the cigarette he was puffing on, stand up, intentionally mess his clothes and affect himself with a cough. He half walked and half staggered towards me, planting himself in front of me. He looked at me in the eye, coughed a little more and physically motioned from his stomach as if to say “i’m starving, please rich white man give me money for food”. I couldn’t believe it. I mean it’s not like he didn’t see me see him. I just kept walking and he followed. Soon enough this guy was joined by about five other kids of varying age begging. (And it’s the type of begging that constantly walks with you, runs ahead and gets in front of you, then walks with you again, using deep puppy dog eyes with the I’m starving hand motion.) So this kid who had spotted me first suddenly turns on the other kids, grabbing and pushing them away, screaming at them in what I figured was a “I spotted him first, the rest of you fuck off ” move. After some minor resistance they did indeed leave off. Then he turns to me proudly like he’s done something amazing for me. I nod, smile and keep on walking. The guy then walks with me for a few feet and after realizing I wasn’t going to tip for the assistance, runs in front of me, re-applies his I’m so weak, I’m a fixin’ to die from starvation affectation and starts begging again. All I could think was, I’d like to thank the academy. What a performance.

The interesting thing is that the kids will never touch me, never. They will however grab the hands and arms of the women. I was amazed by this. One of my colleagues here crossed the street and was swarmed by nine kids, all of them clamoring and grabbing at her. And these kids are filthy. Not like I was playing at the park filthy, but I was eating dirt in a mud shower filthy. I walked over and grabbed one of the kids away from her as his hand had grabbed a bit too close to her bag/wallet and told him no. He looked at me with his dirt face and shrugged as if to say “I’m a kid asshole, what are you gonna do about it?”. I let him go and he started again. I put myself beside my colleague and reached into my pocket. All the these beggar kids immediately lost interest in her and focussed on me. I took my hands out of my pocket, looked them all square in the face, smiled and said:

” FUCK OFF. ALL OF YOU.  REALLY, FUCK OFF.”

I gotta tell you there is nothing more liberating than telling a bunch of filthy kids ages 4 to 9 to fuck off. And before anyone gives me shit about it, they don’t even understand English. They just stood there and looked back at me. Then a Bangladeshi man came out and yelled something at them. Most of them ran off except the kid who had looked at me previously ( I’m a kid..). He tried the same look on the Bangladeshi man, and this man stepped forward with his hand raised ready to knock this kid into next fucking year. The kid ran his ass off. It was awesome. Now most of women I work with walk with there hands close to their sides, or in the air when the hordes come running.

Then there are the old ones. These cats are old, like Stonehenge old. They all have the same beard( both men and women), white and hanging down to mid chest. The men usually have some sort of cane that they lean on especially hard when they see me coming. The women usually have a baby in their arms ( from what I can tell it’s the same baby used by all of them, kinda like the baby from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? actually) and they make the hand gesture for I’m starving, but instead it goes from their stomach to their baby’s mouth. Sometimes they travel in packs. I’ve actually seen the men give orders to the women and they’ll split up and hit you at all angles. Unlike the kids, they give up much more readily and chases usually last half the amount of time. That probably has something to do with the canes and the baby but I’m not sure.

Then there are the most powerful of the beggars that I’ve encountered. These have the patience of the old ones, the persistance of the young ones and the hook of being the broken ones. By broken ones  I mean the ones with physical abnormalities-missing limbs, shortened appendages, you name it there is probably one of them here. The broken ones travel in packs and usually hang around the larger traffic circles.  Every time there is a pause in the traffic, they hobble into the lanes, beating on windows, stumbling about, almost maiming themselves further when the traffic starts and they scramble back out of the way.  Eventually they will see our ride full of white people and they converge en mass on our vehicle. It reminds me of a zombie picture. They all pound on windows and we just pretends they aren’t there, which is of course bullshit. We all know they are there, it just the way things are here. You simply can’t give all the time.  The broken ones,  rather than focus on how hungry they are, they use their physical ailments. I have no money I am blind; I need money because I have no legs. It’s shitty but then again the world can be a  shitty place.

The most powerful of the broken ones I’ve encountered was while I was in a CNG on my way across town at night. We got stuck behind a stalled truck and that was when he struck. He began low, calling out to me “boss, boss, brother brother brother boss”, not thinking I looked out and saw a man approaching. He wore all white that seemed all the more white as the surrounding headlights cascaded off of him, bouncing and  shimmering. His shirt was open revealing a white undershirt beneath. His skin somehow a golden brown in the amber of the head lights…his right arm out stretched in the jesus christ pose ” brother brother boss boss boss brother” he kept saying. That was when I saw his left arm. There was no arm to be found, rather just a hand attached at his chest/shoulder, also out stretched, or as outstretched as something like that can be. The hand only had three fingers on it. I was spell bound. “brother brother brother boss boss boss” he kept repeating like a mantra, hypnotically. I couldn’t take my eyes off that hand. Then to illustrate how bad off he was ( not that he needed the help) he brought his right hand over to his left, pointing out the abnormality. Then he waved his left hand at me, and the spell was broken. The Flipper hand slammed flat against his chest making a smacking sound and instantly reminded me of a cross between a penguin and Casey of Casey and Finnegan fame from the Mr.Dressup show. ( For those of you who don’t know that reference think of Punch and Judy style hand puppets.) I looked away to conceal the smile now forming as I imagined a giant Casey  puppet begging in the street. Then I wondered how this guy ties his shoes…hell even velcro might be hard for this guy…and that was it. My brain was running a mile a minute- How would he make a sandwich? How would he peel a carrot? How would he use the toliet? Crazy thoughts leaping madly into my brain- and I actually thought, what’s wrong Flipper? Is something wrong with Timmy?

Now I wasn’t laughing at this guys plight or circumstance, it was just that the whole scene took on a surreal hallucinogenic overtone and my brain looks at things very differently from most peoples . I’ve always seen the lighter side of the world. It’s part of what makes me as awesome as I am, politically correct or no.  And all the while Flipper is still repeating “boss boss brother brother boss”. Realizing his hook wasn’t working he turned to my friend beside me and began  “sister sister sister sister ma’m ma’m ma’m”. She being world wise just ignored him and continued talking to me.  Soon enough the CNG was surounded by more beggars. Then  traffic started and the CNG was moving again. The whole incident lasted no more than 2 minutes, but what a two minutes.

Now something to bare in mind here is that there are begging scams here. It is kind of like Slumdog Millionaire, where they give the kids a home and then put them to work. Several of the locals have told me that most of the money these people make doesn’t go to them but instead goes to the local gangs and mafia in exchange for the food and shelter they owe on. I have never seen a local give money to any beggar. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, I’ve just never seen it.  I ‘m sure there are some legitimate beggars here and I would gladly give if I could tell them apart, but I can’t. Because if you give to one, you have to give to them all.

So instead I support Amnesty International, Doctors with out Borders and PlanCanada.  You have to pick your spots.

mK

my oh my how time flies when you are on the run. been a busy week here for me on a professional level (guffaw), so I haven’t had a chance to write much. All apologies, but thats how it goes sometimes.

Being here becomes less and less difficult with each passing day but no less surreal. The University has done everything in it’s power to alleviate any potential problems. For example to give us time to learn the lay of the land there has been a regular rotation of day trips to markets and house ware shops. These will be ending soon as everybody pretty well knows where they are going ( which is not to say that people know what they are doing by any stretch of the imagination). This again is the difference between travel and living. The development of routines versus the freedom of  exploration.

These trips however, lead me to a topic that I should discuss.  Driving in Bangladesh.  How best to explain the roads and the negotiation inside them and do the chaos the justice it so truly deserves…Ever seen a river clogged with salmon on the way up river to spawn ? I’m not talking the hinterland who’s who triumphant leap of the majestic salmon erupting forth from the water and pushing forward meter after glorious meter to the promised and fertile land, no no no we’ve all seen that before. I’m talking about the nose to nose bloated, tired chaos of all those creatures headed in one direction simultaneously.

Now take that image and multiply the numbers by about a gazillion, take away the whole travelling in one direction thing and you start to get the picture. On the road, let’s remove all lines and lights, hell  just get rid of any semblance of traditional rules.  Need to turn into oncoming traffic on a one way? Feel free. Need to turn around? Just stop in the middle of the road you are on and start to turn. Eventually you’ll be sideways and over far enough that traffic will have to stop for you. I swear this is the absolute truth. ( jj you would be lose it here.) Add to the mix of cars, buses and SUV’s, a myriad of other types of vehicles: bicycle powered multi-coloured trishaw;  A three wheeled motorcycle powered by compressed natural gas called the CNG, all painted green. Yes folks hundreds of rolling explosive devices interweaving with reckless abandon, some with brakes and headlights that even work. Let us not forget the random carts overflowing with everything from fruit and vegetables to bricks to random metal/machinery. Then there is the sheer number of people mixed in for good measure. There are no discernable crosswalks here so people just walk as they will, ducking in, out and around vehicles that move at breakneck speed.  Pedestrians NEVER have the right of way here. NEVER. Cars won’t stop but will slow if you hold out your hand, get in their way and then keep moving. Crossing the street is not easy. In fact it could be likened to Homer’s The Odyssey, or the 1979 film The Warriors (come out and play) if you aren’t down with the the classics. Either way, epic.  Ok I think we’ve got a pretty good picture going here, now mix in lots of dirt, dust and pollution, some curious, and some rank smells and you’ve got it. Oh and the HORNS.  Horns here have evolved into an entire means of communication, from warning sign, to “get out of my way” to “hey did you see that white guy on the corner trying to cross the street? He’s going to get killed!” They do not stop, except between 3 and 7 am, which it seems is the only time nobody is going anywhere. And the word HORNS includes but is not limited to bells, whistles, hollering. the population is so big here the activity is constant. It often feels like everybody is going somewhere all of the time. Which is sort of strange as there really isn’t all that much to do.

Since I have been here I have been very close to two accidents in a CNG, and know of two other people who actually have been in accidents. Nothing major mind you but still. The most interesting thing about all this chaos and the vehicular madness therein is that I have yet to see any form of road rage. It seems very much like driving here has been this way for a long time, a very matter of fact” well that just kind of how it is” attitude., so people don’t get carzy. That, I think is pretty cool.

More soon as I must away and try to nurse the bites I received from some kind of crazy insect last night. It’s like something took a bite and decided to come back for more. And then more still. It wouldn’t bother me so much if it weren’t for the fact I can actually see where bits of flesh have been removed. Well that and the swelling. Parts of my body are now written in brail. really.

Pictures soon.

mK

I must begin with an extraordinary thing that happened to me last night…well I dunno if extraordinary is the word I want but it definitely warrants comment.

After a long day of development and ACTUAL DECISION MAKING, a four kilometre run and wondering how big David Cross’s pay cheque must have been for Alvin and the Chipmunks, we decided we would try this “burger joint” that had been pointed out to us earlier in the week.

So into the Bangladeshi night we walked, again more hand shakes and thanks (I still don’t get that, but what you gonna do) we arrived at said joint.

The place sort of looked like a KFC in design and colouring. A huge sign on the door said, “pressure cooked chicken” on it. We entered and were greeted by a multitude of stares (everyone still stares every single day. Imagine if I were a ginger!) and given a menu. It was at this point we discovered that everything, and I do mean everything in the way of food items on the menu was deep fried. Chicken? fried. Fish? fried. Salad? well you get the idea. At this point we contemplated moving on to another joint when we noticed that the light shower that had started while we were en route had erupted into a full blown downpour. And this a South Asia downpour, somewhat different than home. When it rains here its more akin to Noah building an ark. So we swallowed our pride and stayed.

Now I know for most of the “homer simpson-ites” out there, the idea of an all deep fry all the time joint sounds awesome, (mmmm crispyyyyy), however the food was horrendous. the “chicken burger” didn’t look like chicken, tasted like fish and could have been used as either a coaster or a frisbee. The “two piece” meal, called a double broast-I shit you not-had chicken parts that I’ve never seen on any chicken, EVER. Anyways, underneath the mountain of skin and eleven herbs and spices the Colonel nor any other mortal has ever even heard of I found something that at least resembled chicken…or some kind of white meat.
Anyways, the best part of the whole thing was that while we waited for this horrendous meal to arrive, they fired up the cd player to play some “white” music for us, I think to create a 1950’s style diner vibe. The first song that played? Summer of ‘69 by Bryan Adams. I’m not kidding. I’m literally on the other side of the planet from home and they play Reckless. The whole record. It was awesome, albeit surreal. Incidentally did you know that Bryan has sold like 79 million records? 79 million. Think about that.

What else? My ant problem has been solved through the use of carcinogens and boric acid. Next time I reckon I’ll drop a little napalm into the mix just to see what kind of cocktail I can build. (The first rule of project mayhem is you do no talk about project mayhem.Tyler Durden would be proud.)

Speaking of cocktails, did I mention that Bangladesh is a dry country. There are places to find booze, but they are usually in five star hotels and go for full on US prices. They have no local brew whatsoever which is proving…can’t type….hands are shaky…vision bleary….umm yeah. So a quick note for all those of you thinking about visiting and you know who you are, I have two words for you:
DUTY FREE DUTY FREE DUTY FREE. say it with me, DUTY FREE.

As work goes, the feeling out period is over and almost everyone is on the same page. No easy feat as there is a lot of energy and a lot of brain pans to co-ordinate. It is taking alot of time and limits my ability to concentrate on other things, but it is a necessity right now. I’m assuming that will all change once classes begin. Then it’ll be a new type of work.

Right now the hardest thing is accepting that I’m not actually traveling but living here. I still find myself waking at 6 or 7 am ready to strike out and discover some new place, some new market or whatnot, but then I remember that I live and work here and have more time than I think. Still adjusting to say at least the least.

Tomorrow I’m part of a day trip to a place called Cox’s Bazaar. I have no idea where or what that is, but I’ll let you know.

By the way, Alvin and the Chipmunks was really charming. they remix the harmonica song and witch doctor to make them much more fresh. I’ve just read that they are making a get this, a sequel call skweakwell.

Hurray or David Cross!!!

Wow. Been a while it has it has,but best not to dwell on the passage of time, because really it’s all about the direction that one is facing. Looking forward or tripping backwards..in the words of Ferris Bueller- life’s fast, if you don’t stop and look around every once in a while you just might miss it.

Since my last post life has gotten an overhaul. I’m older than I was by a year, I’ve packed up my life and relocated to another part of the world. Bangladesh. Yes, you heard read correctly, I’m now part of that powderkeg of excitement and third world culture, Bangladesh.

I’m here to help develop the inaugural academic year of the Asian University for Women, a new school located in Bangladesh that helps educate and empower women so that they can become leaders, in not only their respective communities but also on a global front.  It’s actually pretty noble cause when you think about it.  They have assembled a group of instructors/staff/professionals from around the world, literally from Hong Kong to Harvard and back again. Pretty exciting company to be keeping, although that being said I have little to contribute to conversations about Robotics. Except what I’ve learned from Asimov, Roddenerry and Lucas. (But in grade 8 I did a science project about the Canadarm that made it to the district finals. Even had a model of the space shuttle and everything.)

We’re all in the feeling out period, getting to know vibe. Everyone has strong opinions but no one wants to ruffle feathered toes and what not, but i know that soon the push will be on to make more concrete choices. We must as the train has already left the station.

I am one of four men on the faculty. and currently, the token white guy. The culture here is both interesting and curious as when I walk the streets (and I use the term streets loosely) everyone stares. and I mean stares. I have to nod and smile to get any change of engagement from them, and even then they go from peering to aghast to surprised to smiles in a micro second. Also strange is that fact that coming from North America, more specifically, Canada, and even more specifically the theatre I try to use eye contact as often as possible as a way to connect with the people around me. Here in Bangladesh ( I wonder if that will ever be comfortable to say?), the use of eye contact is considered rude. A thought never far off. So I must offend the people to make a connection to illicit a response and change the way in which people engage. Fucking wild. and rude. and wild…

Also, all the men want to shake my hand. Really. If the connection is made and they realise I’m not the white devil (although I think I might be) they want to touch you. Yesterday a policeman with an automatic weapon stopped me in the streets to shake my hand then said thank you. Like I’d something noble or was of some importance…maybe given him more status, I don’t know. Truth be told it was a very Bono moment and I did feel a little like a rock star or maybe the Pope. Although at the end of the day it also felt a tad dishonest because although I am Matt Kennedy and awesome, I’m still just a guy, like Bono is and just like the Pope is when no one else is looking. It’s a bit of a trip to wrap one’s head around but I imagine it’ll get stranger before it gets easier. Still though, fucking weird.

The week goes from Sunday to Thursday here. Friday is a holy day, much like Sundays used to be growing up. Nothing is open and the day seems to start a little later so there is a slight lull in activity. However, every morning @ 5 am there is a Muslim call to prayer (this call happens about five or six times a day) and it ain’t subtle I can tell you that. I sort of think about it in this way: imagine the old RCA record label, the one with the bulldog on it next to the gramaphone, except the gramaphone is thirty times bigger and bellowing out a sound not unlike a drowning giraffe-a constant warbling invitation. It’s pretty cool but the timing comes way to early.
Again, different culture and different worlds.

I currently have a carpenter ant infestation so I have to split and try to talk the landlord out of using insect killer laced with carcinogens. Exciting times indeed.

Feel free to email me at matt@themattkennedyshow.com. It’d be nice to hear how the rest of the world is going, because here I’m a day ahead and a world behind.