#xl repubblica

[signoranubi]

ANUBI ha bisogno di te! Votalo nel sondaggio di XL di REPUBBLICA per incoronarlo Miglior Fumetto del 2015! http://xl.repubblica.it/articoli/xl-top-fumetti-2015/30616

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA: AN ODE TO CULTURE'S FAVORITE MUSE, JUST DON'T TELL YOUR MOTHER

December 2013

I met Carolina in my early twenties in Miami. At the time, my collaborator Jodi Marr and I would beg and borrow studio hours wherever we could get them. In exchange, we would lend our voices to bad Latin pop records or Jodi would translate lyrics. We were prostituting ourselves for studio time and for a way out of obscurity. We were making my first demos and money was non existent. This meant we often got the studios after normal working hours, from 7pm to 2am. Unable to drive, Jodi would pick me up and drop me off at a gas station in North Miami where I would then be collected by my sister or a friend. Carolina was always there waiting for customers. I quickly realised this wasn’t such a good thing as it meant she wasn’t getting work, which wasn’t surprising as she was passed it and not in good health. I became fascinated by her, but mostly fascinated by her incredible strength. One day she disappeared and I never saw her waiting there again. The song just happened. I didn’t plan it or think it particularly clever, but I wrote it for her.

What is it about the oldest profession in the world and the arts? Musicians, writers and painters have been inspired and fascinated by prostitutes and courtesans for thousands of years. The works have been displayed in palaces, cathedrals and the songs have even been played at weddings. Places where the people that inspire them would not always be welcome. From The Police’s Roxanne to Guercino’s Mary Magdalene, Degas and Manet’s female portraits, La Traviata and Anna Karenina, all have used the moral quandary of sex versus profit as their springboard. To me it is actually the courage that it takes to engage in a meretricious relationship that is fascinating and admirable. Buddhists believe in the separation of the mind and the body which would imply that prostitution of the mind is far more questionable and dangerous. In a capitalist society we regulate “the mind” by regulating peoples actions and transactions. It seems a logical extension to regulate prostitution. The exploitation and suffering would be aided by decriminalising and supporting those working in the industry.

The finest prostitution pop song of them all has to be Killer Queen written by Freddie Mercury. In his own words which I truly believe in he said that «We are all musical Prostitutes my dear». Indeed Freddie we are, however Churchill wasn’t afraid to get his hands a little more dirty. At a high class party Churchill famously asked a socialite if she would sleep with him for five million pounds. Blushing, she replied that the terms would have to be discussed. He then asked her if she would sleep with him for 5 pounds. «Mr Churchill! What kind of woman do you think I am!» she replied. «Madam, we’ve already established what kind of woman you are. Now we are haggling about the price». God, we could use a leader like him again today.

[fyeahmika]

XL Repubblica Column Preview: An ode to the favorite muse, but don't let your mother read it.

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA: MY FAMILY AND OTHER ANIMALS

October 2013

The idea for my holiday this year was a pretty normal one. To get into a car from London and drive through France and Italy, stopping in various places along the way. The only unusual thing about my trip is that I took my whole family with me, all 18 of them, and not only that, but my Dog came too as well as a few friends, my goddaughter, her parents, my grandmother, her nanny (I’ll come back to that) and of course a couple spouses and partners. The grand total? 26 people, 8 cars, 48 suitcases, 1 dog bed and a Magi-mix (for the dog). The story about the boy, is one that I used to read often as a child. Clearly it had more of an influence on me than anyone could have predicted.

To be fair, of all the places we have been in this enormous group, Italy has been the most welcoming and un-afraid of my Godzilla sized family. In France, I couldn’t help but feel like we were as welcome as a barbarian invasion. The only Barbarian in the group to be fair is my grandmother. Although she is more like a Trojan Horse. She enters a room with a coy smile and hobbles with her walking stick, as slow as possible so as to maximise exposure. Slow movement is one of the more refined weapons in her arsenal. As soon as the stranger, often a waiter, is out of site, she accelerates like a lizard in the sun, devilishly cruel and funny in equal measure. This time round I decided to temper this duality with a professional nanny. So I hired a trusted, former Soviet Block drill sergeant to keep her in check, it has worked a miracle.

Looking back on my trip and all the places we have gone to, I realise now that I did something that is extremely Italian. I displaced myself for the summer and brought almost a whole town with me. However the way we did it was very Lebanese. Where as other more sensible groups would have travelled in a coach with a guide, we all wanted to feel independent and free. However, we all wanted to be together all the time and we all wanted to have whatever the other had. You cannot imagine the scene we caused when we would descend upon a small gas station or invade a local coffee shop, demanding espressos, all at the same time. The dog: water; the granny: a toilet; the aunties: space; the walking sticks (three by the end of the trip): always left behind; the secret smokers: behind a bush; the secret eaters: also behind a bush; the under eaters; the over eaters. We were a moving tornado of functional anarchy. What we lost in organisation and calm we gained in joy and that was worth far more. Did I mention the best part of it all? Out of our army of 26, there was only one person who actually spoke Italian and that was me. I am Lebanese, French, American, English and after this trip I can’t help but feel like I have become a little Italian also.

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA : AN OPEN LETTER TO MY OLDER SELF (TURNING THIRTY)

September 2013

You may wonder why I’m writing this, but the reason is quite simple. A lot of noise is made about someone turning 30. Yes, you can laugh, you’re about to turn 80. The only reason why I think we care is that childhood along with adolescence has been eroded. The normal transitions of life before adulthood don’t exist any more. We live a sort of ‘kidulthood’ for far too long and suddenly we hit 30 and have no more excuse. A 30 year old, a hundred years ago, was approaching the twilight era. You however, at 80, are probably not even considered old any more. I wonder how your health is and how long you might actually live? 100? 120? Perhaps you live in an augmented reality, which covers up all the destruction of the last 100 years. I hope that’s not the case. I hope things are still green and there is still winter and summer. What scares me the most, is that now as I turn 30, I don’t believe things as basic as seasons and fresh air are guaranteed in the future.

As those around me have been making a fuss about my 30th, this is my retaliation. As a boy, the only secret power I ever wanted was to freeze time. In order to relish a little longer in moments I loved and to reap vengeance on those who hurt me. This is me freezing time just for a moment. Like a capsule or a message in a bottle. Beyond that I don’t care about my age, as long as I am free.

I am writing this from the basement of my house in London’s World’s End. There’s a car engine outside making noise. My mother has just popped over to have a cup of tea and my dog is asleep in the corner. They will all be gone when you read this. I have never faced death, you have. How lucky you must think I am to have those I love around me in the flesh. Don’t romanticise too much however. They are not so perfect up close you know? So far I have seen terrible things happen to people I love dearly, but I’ve never lost any of them. You have and I’m sorry for the pain it caused you. I’m sure you’ve made some pretty amazing friends though. Not just the glamorous famous ones. Those ones I know already, come and go so fast, but real friends. I hope they are strange and keep you weird. Please stay weird.

In the world right now, the US and the UK are spying on us and no one can do anything about it. Even Obama is unable to take a hard line on the subject. The Middle East is in turmoil and the incredible city of Aleppo which you visited at 25 is pretty much destroyed. In Russia, the government is turning viciously and bizarrely anti gay, as a result of the bigotry of the powerful orthodox church, but marriage in Europe and America is looking positive. Except in Italy, God knows about that! I wonder if you have children and how you got those, as I already know for sure that you haven’t hooked up with a chick. I hope you have kids, I hope they look like me. And what about Music!? OH GOD I wish I knew what that would sound like in the future.

I could go on for ever, but I must stop. Please remember, we are not so different you and I. If you read this, and do not recognise the hand or the voice, something has gone terribly wrong. If you feel a little embarrassed, that’s OK. In the words of Doris Day, “che sera sera”. That’s true, but I can’t help but feel, that in the chaos of cause and effect that forms our future, the tiny action of writing this letter might change something further down the line. One thing, I hope your not bald, if so, wear a hat.

With all the love in the world, You x

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA: THIS IS WAR, YOU JUST DON'T KNOW

July 2013

They make you feel as worthless as a piece of shit and you act like one. They are companies, corporations, governments and individuals, who collect data and behavioural patterns, without your knowledge or consent. We are the droplets of water that make up an ocean.

When dealing with the issue of our individual privacy being infringed, we deal with it psychologically by telling ourselves that we are not significant enough to matter. If our slight indiscretions and secret habits are being logged and spied on, what does it matter? Our caprices and secret habits are not threats to national security nor do they threaten lives. I feel that we have been dangerously desensitised towards our own privacy.

The recent Datagate scandal has been fascinating for me. Not only because of the fact that the US and UK government have been intercepting our emails and phone calls but also for the overwhelmingly muted response of the general public compared to the extensive media exploitation of the story. This is not the first time, nor the last, that we will deal with scandals of this kind. The Google and Facebook privacy and data collection policies have been questioned by European authorities. The new X-Box, with its intelligent camera that learns our habits and watches us when on and off, is just another chapter in the war between the individual and his darker, more invisible, big brother.

On my official website, I have been forced to collect basic data as well as notify the user that its happening. This, unfortunately, is beyond my control, but a Universal policy (who own’s the site). On my fan sites, I collect data only from those who sign up to being part of the fan club. We are often told that by posting details of our daily life on Twitter and Facebook, we are eroding our boundaries when it comes to privacy. The essential thing that is forgotten is the importance of choice. We chose what to share, what to show off and what to bury in the closet.

We are not nothing. It is easier to make us forgive and forget and let the problem get worse when we feel like our private lives and communications are inconsequential. Alone, our data may not have power, but to the ones collecting, we are a collective gold mine, and we must absolutely realise our value.

I believe that each one of us is angered and infuriated that the details of our life and habits are no longer our own, and that the choice of what part of our private lives we want to share, is no longer ours. In this ocean of people and information, it easy to forget the real consequences that a single user of the internet out of billions can have on another individual. How many more teenagers must cry in private after being humiliated on Facebook in front of their whole high school. How many young men risk committing suicide after being outed by near strangers online. Our huge numbers make our actions colder even if we aim to warm ourselves up reading up on gossip and placing our eyes and ears where they are not supposed to be. This warmth is a false promise, a cheap drug that comes with a price and this cruel ratio will never be resolved until each of us accepts our mutual responsibility towards each other’s privacy. Only then can we stand united against governments and corporations, the two of which seem more and more like the same thing than ever. Only then can we stop this violent whirlpool towards an Orwelian shit hole of a world

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA: Italian Lesson Nightmare: I Dream of German Nannies Named Simona

JUNE 2013

Starting in October I will be putting my new language skills to the test on live television as a judge on Italian X Factor. If that isn’t motivation enough to learn a language then fuck it, nothing is.

After performing on X Factor for the third time last December, I was asked backstage by a very excited producer if I would ever consider judging on the show. I laughed and thought she was joking, or completely crazy, I wasn’t sure. As it turned out, she was serious and at the beginning of the year, to the astonishment of my management I accepted her offer. My managers could not believe that I was going to judge on a talent show (a position that I had recently turned down in other countries) and that I was going to do it in Italian! My reasons were simple. Over the past few years I have become closer to Italy in my work and have spent much of my time off there. Italian X Factor, felt more un-hinged and less controlled than any other show of its type. In my opinion it fits into the tradition of talent and songwriting competitions that have been part of Italian popular culture since the late 40s. Also I would get to learn Italian, with a deadline. For those reasons I have thrown myself into this crazy challenge and this is why my 24 year old teacher is traveling with me as I continue to tour around the world.

How will this all turn out? I have no idea, but I do know that I intend to enjoy it as much as possible. It’s a bit like a roller coaster ride. At the moment I’m on that really boring bit where you are being pulled up to the top of the ride and are terrified of what’s to come but you still want to keep going. The endless vocabulary and grammar lessons leave my head feeling like its been squeezed between the legs of a sumo wrestler and I have started to hate the one person most important to this challenge, Isabella. Last night, in a moment of jet-lagged terror, I had a nightmare. I dreamt of the hotel lobby we had been in the day before in Jakarta. There were a group of noisy Indonesian children running around. The nanny started to scream at them in German and they froze as did I when she turned around only to be Simona Ventura. She made the most glamorous nanny I have ever seen, with perfect hair, Prada from head to toe and diamonds on her neck and ears. She spoke to me in German and I kept telling her in Spanish that I couldn’t understand. I think I’m loosing my mind. And of all people, Simona was the nicest to me on set and the one judge that I spoke the most with.

I don’t want to speak Italian like a brute. I hope to speak it well. Isabella assures me that I have a chance of succeeding without sounding like the Spanish ambassador’s wife, whatever that means.

[fyeahmika]

XL REPUBBLICA: After all the humiliation, now my america is nicer

APRIL 2013

Twenty years and a lot of countries later, my parents meet waiting to cross the street on 5th Avenue. After only a week, they get engaged. Shortly after the birth of my oldest sister, they move to France and then to Lebanon, where I was born.

From the outset, my mother had decided that her children would not be raised in America. She felt that the country she had loved so much growing up, had changed. Its emphasis on wealth and competition did not appeal to her. Yet, despite never having lived in the US, my siblings and I have always held America as a major part of our identity. Our vision of the States and our family city, New York, was not shared by any of our classmates. Growing up in Europe, there was a lot of racism towards the US. American’s were “fat and stupid” or “rich and mean”. It is clear to me now, that things have changed. That anti Americanism seems to be softening in Europe. Why are so many of my classmates, who spent their time mocking Americans, now waiting for visa applications to move over there? Could it be that the US is more likeable than its ever been for my generation?

The US has been humbled. Eleven years of military engagement in two countries has knocked its confidence and forced it to reconsider its position as “defender of the free world”. At the same time, domestically, it has suffered from the worst finical crisis in generations, which has seen people thrown out of their homes and loosing their jobs, whilst in stark contrast, China has grown from strength to strength. It seems to me that America is viewed as being as messed up as the rest of the world, if not more so, and thus is not seen as intimidating as it once was. With a less arrogant image, people in Europe are able to focus more on what is good about the US. It is almost as if, the world has found a new country to pick on, China.

Things appear to be picking up in the US economy – unemployment is dropping, there are green shoots of growth and when compared to Europe this is promising. It’s estimated that America will be energy independent by 2030. This could be a turning point for US diplomacy, especially towards the Middle East.

It’s hard to view America in definitive terms anymore. In the past it was portrayed as good in a fight against an evil Soviet Union and even post 9/11 George Bush labelled America’s opponents as an “Axis of Evil”. Such characterisations appear far too simplistic to most people, and those who speak in blindingly positive terms about America are viewed as ignorant cow-boys. An equal measure of pride and being self-defacing are what is most fashionable now. Looking at film and TV, from Team America to Family Guy, the US seems to be OK with making fun of itself. It’s hard to think of any American TV shows in the 80s that ever did that. A new “Brand America” is being sold to us, whether it’s in speeches by Obama or in episodes of Homeland, as a country that can admit its blunders and is striving to make good on them. This humbled, but as a result wiser, America like a prodigal son, is being accepted by the rest of world once more. In many ways this re-branding is actually just a return to older values – the ability to adapt and improve oneself is at the core of the “American Dream”. It’s clear to me that America will look very different over the next couple of decades – for example I expect to see a Latino president within my lifetime – but if its central beliefs manage not to be clouded by arrogance again then it will continue to attract people to its shores in the same way it drew my grandfather from Syria in the 1930s.

Mika