Disclaimer: The following is reflective of my reality and does not necessarily apply to all Cambodian contemporary dancers.
I've noticed something recently. Actually, I noticed it at the end of last year, but have only been able to articulate it recently.
When I was in Malaysia for the festival, I was talking with the choreographer of the Korean group and asking him how he got started. He said that he had just gathered a group of friends to start training every day, and then found a producer along the way to hunt for gigs, and now whenever they perform, he pays the dancers. Otherwise, he doesn't. He said, "why don't you do that in Cambodia?"
The thing is, according to my experience, such a thing would be completely impossible in Cambodia, as I have yet to meet a dancer who will voluntarily go through training/rehearsals without a firm guarantee of a performance or payment. They might agree to something in theory -- such as my dancers did in the fall before our performance in October -- but in reality their commitment to such a thing is very minimal and I always felt like I spent more energy getting dancers into the studio than actually creating.
Don't get me wrong: as an artist, I absolutely agree that art should be valued and that the idea that artists love what they do so there's no need to pay them is both disturbing and dangerous.
However, I also believe that being an artist also includes a practice of training and self-development, a practice of questioning oneself and abilities. You can't just slap the title of "Dancer" on yourself and leave it at that -- there is always more to learn, always room to improve. The second I decide that I'm a good choreographer and that's that, I stop learning -- and I stop being an artist.
It feels to me as though the Cambodian contemporary dancers have looked out to other countries and seen artists being paid, and as such are demanding the same (which is perfectly legitimate by the way), but have missed the other side of the coin -- the endless hours of doing things for free, or paying to do them, to become better artists and dancers.
For example: my dance partner and student, Dara, recently told me that he would not join the festival in Malaysia in November (a very big festival with lots of groups and fantastic exposure) for less than $200. I had already offered 50-100 and all expenses paid. His reasoning was that it was his second time. There was no thought in his head -- at least, as far as I can tell -- about what he might gain from the festival. Only the money. Regardless of the fact that 99% of the dancers in Sibu -- and probably that again for the next one in November -- have several years worth of training on him.
Yes, I'm angry about it -- I'm trying desperately to be reasonable about it, and questioning if I'm the one being ridiculous here. But Dara was really the last dancer here I really wanted to work with, and I'm out of options. I am a young choreographer -- it's going to be a while before people pay me enough so I can pay dancers at the rates Dara is asking. The dancers here are out of my budget, and the disinterest in experience and professional development is the chief factor in making me want to leave. Even Cambodian Living Arts, which remains one of the coolest organizations I've ever worked for, recently nixed an idea for a second choreographic development workshop because of the "lack of hard skills" offered in the workshop goals.
Yes -- I want to leave. There is nobody left I can afford to work with, and I know that there are many other places full of dancers who are hungry to learn, hungry to gain experience, and willing to board a train without seeing the destination. Those are the people I want to find -- not the people who simply hold out their hands and say, "Okay, but how much are you paying?"
I'm not getting on a plane tomorrow. But my focus has shifted, and over the course of the next six months or more, I will be looking to move onto a place where I can grow as an artist, surrounded by other people with the same vision. At this point, I don't see it in Phnom Penh.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Friday, May 30, 2014
America and Unpopular Opinions
I don't often like to post on politics, especially American. But I was thinking about this subject the other day and especially since a friend asked me for my thoughts on America now that I've lived abroad for close to two years. My thoughts change and evolve and will continue to do so, and I feel like I always need to make a distinction between America The Country and the America I knew growing up, that the Grand Culture is not necessarily life and people on a daily basis.
It's also true, however, that America The Country cannot be ignored, and in light of recent events, I want to post this -- two honest, and probably unpopular, opinions that I'm still hesitating if I want to publish or not.
There was another mass shooting the other day. The shooter was young, disturbed. All three of his automatic guns were purchased legally. In the aftermath, people act surprised that it's happened again, this thing that has become a cultural archetype and occurs regularly, every few months or so. The media gleefully portrays the grieving families, does exposés on the shooter, his parents, his life. He becomes famous. His writings are published. People cry that this must be the last time.
It won't be the last time.
The NRA will push for more guns. Legally concealed weapons. People will shout that guns don't kill people, people kill people. The issue might reach Congress, but the politicians will hem and haw, occasionally take a strong stance, but back off when their campaign funding runs low when half their constituents disagree and gun rights groups void their checks.
Sound and fury. Nothing will change. Take away our guns, people will say, and you might as well open our borders, pull back the military. We Will Not Be Safe.
Cambodia is a crazy country. But I confess to feeling safer here than I do in the States. The culture of gun rights, which has fabricated an entire cultural archetype of mass shootings, makes me sick.
That brings me to another very unpopular opinion, and one which I actually do hesitate to bring up here or anywhere. That's on the subject of the military, and this pervasive glorification of military might that is rampant across America. Criticize Washington all you like, but the moment you open your mouth against the military, best watch out.
I have no doubt that the soldiers serving in the military are, for the most part, respectable and courageous individuals. I just question the fundamental reason why America needs such an enormous military. I used to hear people say, all over, thank you to the brave men and women out there keeping us safe.
I don't know what the military all over the world does on a daily basis. I don't know what would happen if they weren't there. I don't personally think that life as we know it would collapse and the next world war would start post-haste, but I don't know that.
But what I want is for someone -- honestly and without the blinders of pride and glory -- to explain to me Why. Why having an enormous military all over the world and playing protectorate in countries in an attempt to make them mini-Americas and unanimously and unquestioningly supporting whatever they do actually keeps me safe on a daily basis.
Sometimes I look at America and I do see the land of opportunity. Rarely these days, and at the moment, all I see is a nation run on money and arrogance, with military might, guns, and violence held up as the pillars of security and prosperity. I'm not even going to get into the education system and how it spits out millions of young graduates every year in huge holes of debt, already in over their heads.
Sure. That's not the whole truth of it. But it's reason enough for me choose, simply enough, to take my feet from those shores and settle my roots elsewhere.
It's also true, however, that America The Country cannot be ignored, and in light of recent events, I want to post this -- two honest, and probably unpopular, opinions that I'm still hesitating if I want to publish or not.
There was another mass shooting the other day. The shooter was young, disturbed. All three of his automatic guns were purchased legally. In the aftermath, people act surprised that it's happened again, this thing that has become a cultural archetype and occurs regularly, every few months or so. The media gleefully portrays the grieving families, does exposés on the shooter, his parents, his life. He becomes famous. His writings are published. People cry that this must be the last time.
It won't be the last time.
The NRA will push for more guns. Legally concealed weapons. People will shout that guns don't kill people, people kill people. The issue might reach Congress, but the politicians will hem and haw, occasionally take a strong stance, but back off when their campaign funding runs low when half their constituents disagree and gun rights groups void their checks.
Sound and fury. Nothing will change. Take away our guns, people will say, and you might as well open our borders, pull back the military. We Will Not Be Safe.
Cambodia is a crazy country. But I confess to feeling safer here than I do in the States. The culture of gun rights, which has fabricated an entire cultural archetype of mass shootings, makes me sick.
That brings me to another very unpopular opinion, and one which I actually do hesitate to bring up here or anywhere. That's on the subject of the military, and this pervasive glorification of military might that is rampant across America. Criticize Washington all you like, but the moment you open your mouth against the military, best watch out.
I have no doubt that the soldiers serving in the military are, for the most part, respectable and courageous individuals. I just question the fundamental reason why America needs such an enormous military. I used to hear people say, all over, thank you to the brave men and women out there keeping us safe.
I don't know what the military all over the world does on a daily basis. I don't know what would happen if they weren't there. I don't personally think that life as we know it would collapse and the next world war would start post-haste, but I don't know that.
But what I want is for someone -- honestly and without the blinders of pride and glory -- to explain to me Why. Why having an enormous military all over the world and playing protectorate in countries in an attempt to make them mini-Americas and unanimously and unquestioningly supporting whatever they do actually keeps me safe on a daily basis.
Sometimes I look at America and I do see the land of opportunity. Rarely these days, and at the moment, all I see is a nation run on money and arrogance, with military might, guns, and violence held up as the pillars of security and prosperity. I'm not even going to get into the education system and how it spits out millions of young graduates every year in huge holes of debt, already in over their heads.
Sure. That's not the whole truth of it. But it's reason enough for me choose, simply enough, to take my feet from those shores and settle my roots elsewhere.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Finding the path, and the dance
Today marks the end of seven weeks on the 100 days of dance project and the halfway point. I wasn't really sure if I wanted to post this there or here but decided on here -- the other place is just for the pictures. I wanted to write this, however, to talk about the interesting fact that the 100DOD project comes at a time in which I'm feeling less and less confident in the amount of dance actually happening here.
We are now in the fifth month of the year, inexplicably (where HAS this year gone, anyway?). In two short months, I will celebrate my two year anniversary of living here, a full year and a half longer than I originally planned. Clearly something has kept me here -- but that "something" continues and will most certainly continue to evolve.
One of the reasons that I originally decided to stay longer in Cambodia was because I felt like there were an incredible amount of opportunities in dance. Because contemporary dance is so new, I felt like there was huge opportunity for me to do some very cool things, things I wouldn't get the chance to do elsewhere.
That is all true, and remains true to this day. I choreograph for national television on a weekly basis and have had the opportunity to choreograph and perform for numerous occasions. That in itself is huge.
However, I'm beginning to understand something: there isn't actually that much contemporary dance here, and very few trained dancers. The main power is Amrita and apart from that, there isn't much. Some of the Amrita dancers have their own small groups -- mostly with other Amrita dancers -- that perform in clubs or at other special events. Of the five dancers I was working with briefly last year, I realized that three of them were already established artists and were extraordinarily busy -- a mix of singing, classical dance, classical singing, their own contemporary groups, etc. Another was in the same boat, except in the hip hop/pop singer universe. As such, they were completely unreliable and managed to come to the absolute minimum of rehearsals required. It was only one -- Dara, who remains one of the most talented dancers I've seen to date -- who I was really able to work with.
Another reality -- and I don't think this is just Cambodia, but all over the world -- is that people talk a lot. Things seem more doable here because it's cheaper, but the fact remains that a great majority of the projects I was so excited for this year fell out from underneath my feet. People -- including me -- have big ideas, but then something happens or something comes up, and they just don't seem so doable anymore.
I can't deny, however, that Cambodia is growing ridiculously quickly (the amount this city changes on a daily basis gives me whiplash), and there are great opportunities. But it is interesting to me that in a year in which I feel much less certain about what I can do here is when this 100DOD project came to mind -- a project designed, in fact, to showcase the amount of dance.
Maybe in some ways I needed to remind myself.
I'm also not rushing for the airport. What's keeping me here is not necessarily the promise of fantastic opportunities, but the simple fact that Phnom Penh is home. Somehow and inexplicably, it is. It's chaotic and messy and completely corrupt and crazy, but it's comfortable (I don't know how that works either).
Instead of focusing on Cambodia, now, however, I'm looking out -- to international dance festivals in the region for the moment, maybe in the broader Asia region later. Whenever I get my showreel together I'll start trying to get some residencies or short term work with companies. But in the meantime, keep Cambodia as a base. A place to settle -- for now.
And as this 100 days of dance project has shown me...there's still plenty to do here.
We are now in the fifth month of the year, inexplicably (where HAS this year gone, anyway?). In two short months, I will celebrate my two year anniversary of living here, a full year and a half longer than I originally planned. Clearly something has kept me here -- but that "something" continues and will most certainly continue to evolve.
One of the reasons that I originally decided to stay longer in Cambodia was because I felt like there were an incredible amount of opportunities in dance. Because contemporary dance is so new, I felt like there was huge opportunity for me to do some very cool things, things I wouldn't get the chance to do elsewhere.
That is all true, and remains true to this day. I choreograph for national television on a weekly basis and have had the opportunity to choreograph and perform for numerous occasions. That in itself is huge.
However, I'm beginning to understand something: there isn't actually that much contemporary dance here, and very few trained dancers. The main power is Amrita and apart from that, there isn't much. Some of the Amrita dancers have their own small groups -- mostly with other Amrita dancers -- that perform in clubs or at other special events. Of the five dancers I was working with briefly last year, I realized that three of them were already established artists and were extraordinarily busy -- a mix of singing, classical dance, classical singing, their own contemporary groups, etc. Another was in the same boat, except in the hip hop/pop singer universe. As such, they were completely unreliable and managed to come to the absolute minimum of rehearsals required. It was only one -- Dara, who remains one of the most talented dancers I've seen to date -- who I was really able to work with.
Another reality -- and I don't think this is just Cambodia, but all over the world -- is that people talk a lot. Things seem more doable here because it's cheaper, but the fact remains that a great majority of the projects I was so excited for this year fell out from underneath my feet. People -- including me -- have big ideas, but then something happens or something comes up, and they just don't seem so doable anymore.
I can't deny, however, that Cambodia is growing ridiculously quickly (the amount this city changes on a daily basis gives me whiplash), and there are great opportunities. But it is interesting to me that in a year in which I feel much less certain about what I can do here is when this 100DOD project came to mind -- a project designed, in fact, to showcase the amount of dance.
Maybe in some ways I needed to remind myself.
I'm also not rushing for the airport. What's keeping me here is not necessarily the promise of fantastic opportunities, but the simple fact that Phnom Penh is home. Somehow and inexplicably, it is. It's chaotic and messy and completely corrupt and crazy, but it's comfortable (I don't know how that works either).
Instead of focusing on Cambodia, now, however, I'm looking out -- to international dance festivals in the region for the moment, maybe in the broader Asia region later. Whenever I get my showreel together I'll start trying to get some residencies or short term work with companies. But in the meantime, keep Cambodia as a base. A place to settle -- for now.
And as this 100 days of dance project has shown me...there's still plenty to do here.
Monday, March 17, 2014
#100DaysofDance -- go check it!
Right.
So something got into my head, and I decided to start this project, called #100daysofdance (v. Cambodia).
Basically it goes like this: I love dance, and I live in Cambodia. In fact, I live in Cambodia because of dance. So I decided to marry the two, and out came this idea to take one dancing picture a day, tell a short story about why I took it, who's in it, etc, and do this for 100 days.
I got so excited about it, I made a whole new blog to accommodate it: 100daysofdance.blogspot.com.
Check it out, share it, enjoy it! This blog will go dormant while this project is happening (more so than usual that is), but be sure to check back when the 100 days are up!
Cheers.
So something got into my head, and I decided to start this project, called #100daysofdance (v. Cambodia).
Basically it goes like this: I love dance, and I live in Cambodia. In fact, I live in Cambodia because of dance. So I decided to marry the two, and out came this idea to take one dancing picture a day, tell a short story about why I took it, who's in it, etc, and do this for 100 days.
I got so excited about it, I made a whole new blog to accommodate it: 100daysofdance.blogspot.com.
Check it out, share it, enjoy it! This blog will go dormant while this project is happening (more so than usual that is), but be sure to check back when the 100 days are up!
Cheers.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Beyond the Borders: Musings on the expatriate life
Across the world, for whatever reason, millions of people are living outside of their homeland, just as millions are living the same hometown in which they grew up, maybe the same as their parents, and their children.
As you can see from the progression of posts on this blog, sometimes I don't understand, sometimes I really have no clue why I'm here, sometimes I feel like an unwelcome and unneeded observer, sometimes I'm ready to pull all my savings from the bank, buy a one-way ticket to wherever I can afford, and flee. Some days it's just too far and my family is gone and I'm alone on the other side of the world.
And on the other side, sometimes everything is so rewarding, sometimes I'm accepted and welcomed more than I can believe, sometimes I just can't imagine leaving.
It's a choice I make, every day, and when things go wrong, I always make myself wait at least a couple days. Talk to a friend or two. Just keep living, day by day, and I never regret it.
Sometime last year, I was talking to another friend, who said that people like us who travel a lot and live elsewhere start to belong nowhere. It's true, in a sense. I no longer belong in America, but nor do I belong here. Even in France, the place where I've felt more at home more than anywhere else in the world, I don't belong fully.
But I look at it differently. Now, these days, I belong everywhere.
For me, that's enough.
People immigrate for all sorts of reasons: the promise of a better life, forced circumstances, a job, a family, the need for adventure, whatever it may be. Over Christmas, when I was in America, I found myself thinking about this phenomenon, which is so daily -- but really, it's interesting to me, why some people leave their own country for other shores.
I was thinking about it for a number of reasons. The first is probably that it's been a year and a half now that I've lived in Cambodia. The second is that I knew that trip to the States would be the last in awhile -- the ticket is just too expensive and I can think of some other places to use extra money. Although I don't necessarily see a long-term future in Cambodia, it had become quite clear that I no longer have any interest in living in America.
Of course, my beloved family is there, and I would spend time in Colorado for their sake -- but not to live. Living is different.
So why did I leave? It's not the easiest question to answer because right now, I can say that, simply enough and for whatever reason, it's just not my country. It's not "home". It's familiar, but not home. But that's not why I left when I did -- I left and came to Cambodia because someone asked me to come here and teach.
And so I did, and that's that. It's just that living abroad has agreed with me, and now I can put words to it.
It's not always easy. I'm quite convinced that "cultural DNA" is a thing. I spent my childhood -- a very, very impressionable time -- in America. All of my cultural references, societal rules, history, background, etc, was programmed into me from birth to adolescence. In Cambodia, there are very few common "genes". It's the West, not the East, third world, not first, and those are just the big labels.
As you can see from the progression of posts on this blog, sometimes I don't understand, sometimes I really have no clue why I'm here, sometimes I feel like an unwelcome and unneeded observer, sometimes I'm ready to pull all my savings from the bank, buy a one-way ticket to wherever I can afford, and flee. Some days it's just too far and my family is gone and I'm alone on the other side of the world.
And on the other side, sometimes everything is so rewarding, sometimes I'm accepted and welcomed more than I can believe, sometimes I just can't imagine leaving.
It's a choice I make, every day, and when things go wrong, I always make myself wait at least a couple days. Talk to a friend or two. Just keep living, day by day, and I never regret it.
Sometime last year, I was talking to another friend, who said that people like us who travel a lot and live elsewhere start to belong nowhere. It's true, in a sense. I no longer belong in America, but nor do I belong here. Even in France, the place where I've felt more at home more than anywhere else in the world, I don't belong fully.
But I look at it differently. Now, these days, I belong everywhere.
For me, that's enough.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Gillian's Adventures in Wonderland
Some days I think -- stop the world, I want to get off!
Except I don't, and I'd probably be bored.
My life in Cambodia has descended down the rabbit hole, and down there is a Wonderland -- but I do not mean in the sense of Disneyland. I mean, in the words of Alice herself, "Curiouser and curiouser." Things move in waves here, separated by periods of still water, but when they come they come like tsunamis.
This is abstract, because as usual I don't have the words to begin, wouldn't even know where to begin. I rarely write on this blog exactly what I'm doing or working on, and the backstory alone would take me longer than I care to spend. Writing is stupid anyway when life is so full, but with the waves of Wonderland literally driving me to distraction, I'll give it a go.
I'll try to put it as simply as possible: Somehow, some weeks ago, the world of fashion/film/glitz and glamour in Cambodia decided to notice I exist.
I couldn't say why and I'm not even going to pretend I had anything to do with it. A meeting here, a recommendation there, the collective unconscious suddenly getting the idea at the same time and transmitting it to several different people.
It's not substantial right now -- a few discussion, a few requests, a shoot here, the waffling possibility of a commercial and a movie dancing in the background. In fact, I'm quite convinced I shouldn't even be talking about it, because tomorrow everyone might get distracted by the next set of pretty lights and all these doors will slam, and I'll quietly go back about my business. If people say "you'll be famous," my first instinct is to be skeptical. Promises and prophecies are nothing until life makes them real, and only then.
Of course it's not just that, because that alone would be enough to deal with. CTN has opened another door for me which leads into a whole other house (I don't know what to say about that except that it involves branding my team and building it into "something"), and in the meantime I'm still attempting to pretend I'm a professional choreographer and trying to build something that looks like career in that regard.
It means -- to use yet another metaphor -- that I seem to be carrying three separate trees, all of which are growing like time-lapse videos and branching off in a million directions, while I am the gardener trying to water them, choose which branches to cut and which to keep, which to follow.
Enough metaphors -- but in the end they're the best I can do. To return to Wonderland, I find myself in a world somewhere beyond the looking glass where things are curious and lovely, mad and uncertain, and I'm not sure at all what of it really exists when the dreams all fade.
I suppose I'll just have to follow the White Rabbit to find out.
Except I don't, and I'd probably be bored.
My life in Cambodia has descended down the rabbit hole, and down there is a Wonderland -- but I do not mean in the sense of Disneyland. I mean, in the words of Alice herself, "Curiouser and curiouser." Things move in waves here, separated by periods of still water, but when they come they come like tsunamis.
This is abstract, because as usual I don't have the words to begin, wouldn't even know where to begin. I rarely write on this blog exactly what I'm doing or working on, and the backstory alone would take me longer than I care to spend. Writing is stupid anyway when life is so full, but with the waves of Wonderland literally driving me to distraction, I'll give it a go.
I'll try to put it as simply as possible: Somehow, some weeks ago, the world of fashion/film/glitz and glamour in Cambodia decided to notice I exist.
I couldn't say why and I'm not even going to pretend I had anything to do with it. A meeting here, a recommendation there, the collective unconscious suddenly getting the idea at the same time and transmitting it to several different people.
It's not substantial right now -- a few discussion, a few requests, a shoot here, the waffling possibility of a commercial and a movie dancing in the background. In fact, I'm quite convinced I shouldn't even be talking about it, because tomorrow everyone might get distracted by the next set of pretty lights and all these doors will slam, and I'll quietly go back about my business. If people say "you'll be famous," my first instinct is to be skeptical. Promises and prophecies are nothing until life makes them real, and only then.
Of course it's not just that, because that alone would be enough to deal with. CTN has opened another door for me which leads into a whole other house (I don't know what to say about that except that it involves branding my team and building it into "something"), and in the meantime I'm still attempting to pretend I'm a professional choreographer and trying to build something that looks like career in that regard.
It means -- to use yet another metaphor -- that I seem to be carrying three separate trees, all of which are growing like time-lapse videos and branching off in a million directions, while I am the gardener trying to water them, choose which branches to cut and which to keep, which to follow.
Enough metaphors -- but in the end they're the best I can do. To return to Wonderland, I find myself in a world somewhere beyond the looking glass where things are curious and lovely, mad and uncertain, and I'm not sure at all what of it really exists when the dreams all fade.
I suppose I'll just have to follow the White Rabbit to find out.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
A random collection of thoughts for a Saturday morning
Because I can't think of anything else to blog about and because I sort of want to pretend like I still update and run a blog.
Actually, I'm just not finding words easily these days. My journal notebook is busy collecting dust and I haven't dared to write anything remotely poetic recently for lack of anything poetic to say. In short, all my usual methods of pulling crap out of my brain in order to clear it up have not been working so well. Maybe that's why I can't sleep properly right now, and my dreams are insane, night-long epics that vanish in the daylight.
Okay it's not that bad, really, but I have noticed it.
Anyway, so here are your Random Thoughts for a Saturday morning:
1: In English, you have six question words: Who, what, when, where, how, and why. And then you have these: Someone (who), somewhat, sometime (when), somewhere, and somehow, but there is no somewhy. Why is that??
2: Even my doodles aren't as crazy as usual. My brain, last night:
Actually, I'm just not finding words easily these days. My journal notebook is busy collecting dust and I haven't dared to write anything remotely poetic recently for lack of anything poetic to say. In short, all my usual methods of pulling crap out of my brain in order to clear it up have not been working so well. Maybe that's why I can't sleep properly right now, and my dreams are insane, night-long epics that vanish in the daylight.
Okay it's not that bad, really, but I have noticed it.
Anyway, so here are your Random Thoughts for a Saturday morning:
1: In English, you have six question words: Who, what, when, where, how, and why. And then you have these: Someone (who), somewhat, sometime (when), somewhere, and somehow, but there is no somewhy. Why is that??
2: Even my doodles aren't as crazy as usual. My brain, last night:
3: People ask me a lot what's the craziest thing I've seen on a motorbike in Cambodia. But you know, that's an old story -- 4 people, a baby, and a stock of something, or a pile of half-alive chickens hanging from their ankles, or an entire pig, or an enormous bundle of bamboo, or a few hundred cartons of instant noodles. Yes, everyone sees that.
But the weirdest thing I've seen in Cambodia is a random carnival ride on the side of the National Road. It was one of those things that's like a carousel but the horses are actually suspended off the ground and kind of fly out to the side when it spins. It was literally just on the side of the road one night when I was driving to CTN, with a couple of people riding it -- and next to it was a smaller version, for the kids I guess. A couple weeks later, it was gone.
But how does that happen??!!! Those things are big, they can't just fit on a motorcycle. Where the crap did it come from, how did it get there, and how did it go away so fast????
I don't understand.
Ponder that on your Saturday, my friends.
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