Doda - Pop Princess

One of the great things about being a big country like Germany, Spain or Poland is that you have a population big enough to sustain a home-based entertainment culture. Small countries, especially English speaking ones like Ireland, suffer from the tendency of artists to quickly outgrow their domestic market or at least try to. The phenomenon known as Doda is a uniquely Polish affair but is fascinating to observe as a foreigner.

In the music world in recent years many female artists have followed the Madonna template moving from being a singer to being a brand. Gwen Stefani, Fergie and Kylie all follow the same basic formula with great success. Doda is doing the same thing in Poland and doing it very well in my opinion.

In Poland she is denounced by some a blonde bimbo and she certainly doesn’t go out of her way to quash this stereotype. She has been in the Polish Playboy twice, her latest album is called “Diamond Bitch” and a previous album was called “Bimbo” and every time you switch on the television she seems to be on one or more channels.

If you don’t listen to her music the over-exposure can be off-putting but once you listen to her albums you realize that she has an amazing voice. She also knows how to use her looks. The sleeve booklet inside of “Diamond Bitch” CD is basically soft porn. This is one lady who knows how she wants to market her brand.

For me Doda is representative of the energy of new Poland. She has taken a western template and made it her own in the same way that many Polish rap acts are showing that they can put a different spin on an international theme. This is aspect of Poland makes me proud to have Polish speaking children and very excited about what kind of people they will become being able to fully engage with Polish culture in the future.

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Autobiography

I take my coffee black
I hate to dream at night
I never break the speed limit
My past keeps coming back.
I return my library books on time
My blood boils waiting in queues
I never take a sick day
Nobody would like to read my mind.
I have no tattoos; I’ve never dyed my hair
I hurt you, didn’t I?
I’ve been forgotten more than remembered
If only I had known what to say
I was scared to be different.
If only I’d acted differently
Things wouldn’t be this way.

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The Party Dresses

Princess Maisie was asleep in her beautiful princess bed dreaming of ice cream and cake and chocolate. She woke up with a start when she heard a tapping noise on her window.
Tap – tap – tap! Tap – tap – tap!

She pulled herself up and stood up and stretched and yawned. What was making that tapping noise? She looked out the window and saw a little bird banging his beak against the window.

She opened up the window to find out what the bird wanted.
- What do you want little bird?
- I’ve come to take you to the shop to buy a new dress. Today is Donna’s birthday.
- But you are too small to carry me.
- No, I’m not just look.

And in front of her eyes the little bird changed into a little plane with a seat just about big enough for Princess Maisie and Doggie. Maisie climbed in and off they flew to the toy shop.

When they arrived at the shop the little plane let Maisie out and changed into a beautiful angel. The angel held out her hand and said:
- Come with me princess. Let’s find a dress fit for a queen.

The toy shop was full of smiling children and colourful toys. In one section there were dresses and costumes with every pattern or shape or colour you could think of. And then Maisie saw it. It was a beautiful pink dress puffed up like a delicious pink meringue. When Maisie tried it on she felt wonderful, as though this dress was made for her.

- I want this one, please. Can I have it?
- Of course you can. Now let me see the price. Yes, I have just enough money for it.
- But what about Lucy? If there’s no money left she won’t have any dress.

So Maisie took off her favourite dress and went to look at some others. She found another pink dress that was not quite as nice but still very pretty. And do you know what? There was a matching dress in baby blue in Lucy’s size. Maisie said:
- Let’s take these ones. I can’t wait to show Lucy.

The angel paid for the dresses and outside of the shop she changed back into a plane. Maisie got in with Doggie with the shopping bag folded on her lap. They arrived back home and Maisie went back into her bedroom. The plane changed back into a little bird and said:

- Goodbye Princess Maisie. Have a great party at Donna’s house!
- Thank you so much little bird. See you again soon.

When mama came to get Maisie she was very surprised to see the dresses. And when Lucy put on her dress she was as happy as can be. Princess Maisie and Princess Lucy went to Donna’s party in their beautiful new dresses and it was the best party ever.

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Home (1991)

In my heart, my land,
In my soul it haunts me,
Its nature taunts me.
Walking around Aylevaroo
Or by the sea in summer
Its spirit smothers.
It never loved me, never an embrace,
And yet it clings like humid air.
I breathe it, I smell it,
Or in reverie, I live it.
No spite have I for this, my home,
Although it burdens my constant roam
But long ago one stormy night
I must have sinned,
I must have murdered this - my birthright,
To feel such malice on the streets of Limerick.

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How Maisie Met Doggie

A long long time ago in a very small shop an old shopkeeper was tidying up the things on his shelves. He had many soft toys for sale, there were bears and giraffes and elephants. Some were small and cute, other were big and cuddly.

The shelves were a bit of a mess because the shopkeeper could not always keep up with the children and adults who came in to buy things. He was bending down to straighten up the toys on the bottom shelf when he heard a little crying sound.
- Ow, ow, ow. Ow, ow, ow.
He stood up and looked around and decided that he was just hearing things. He bent down again and he heard the sound again.
- Ow, ow, ow. Ow, ow, ow.

Now he was sure that something was making that noise. He went down on his hands and knees and tried to follow the sound. He crawled along until he was beside the big basket of toys that was labeled ‘Sale 50% Off’. These were the toys that he had had trouble selling before.

He started to take the toys out of the basket and the crying got louder and louder. Right at the bottom of the basket he found a soft rag toy in the shape of a Doggie. The Doggie was crying and looked very upset.

- Oh my, oh my, what’s wrong with you little doggie?
- Boo hoo hoo, boo hoo hoo. I don’t like it at the bottom of that basket. It’s all dark and the other toys are squashing me.
- Now, now, now. Don’t cry little boy.
- Please Mr. Shopkeeper can’t you find me a little girl who could mind me and be my friend?

The shopkeeper was quite upset to see one of his toys looking so sad. And then he thought of an idea.
- Little doggie I am going to make you my star of the day. I’ll put you beside the cash register under the big silver star.

The shopkeeper moved the magic monkey toy that was under the star and put doggie sitting proudly in its place. Doggie was not crying any more and the shopkeeper went back to his tidying.

A little while later a young lady called Matilda came into the shop. She looked around a little bit and then said:
- Mr. Shopkeeper, my friend has just had a baby girl called Maisie. Do you have any toy I could give as a present?
- Why my dear, I think we have just what you are looking here. It’s our star toy of the day, this soft and pretty doggie.

Matilda picked Doggie up. He felt so soft and looked so nice and friendly that she decided to buy him.

As the shopkeeper was wrapping him in gift paper Doggie gave him a wink. Doggie was happy because he had found a home at last.

And so Doggie found Maisie and Maisie found her Doggie, her star not just for a day but for always.

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Normaal

Zo ben ik eenmaal
Eigenwijs
Niet goed wijs
Mijn ergste vijand
Mijn eigen taal.
Zo ben ik, scherp en
Pijnlijk
Over eerlijk
Losse canon
Te gevaarlijk.
Zo ga ik door
Blind en hopeloos
Wensend radeloos
Om normaal te zijn.

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Met z'n tweeën

Was dat wel zo poëtisch geweest?
Dubbele zelfmoord na een frontale botsing tegen een muur
Of met z'n tweeën van de Severn brug afgesprongen.
Je was gestoord maar ik was misschien gestoorder
Om mee te doen in zulke discussies
Alsof een vroege dood mijn lot moest zijn.
Ik zat toen in een diepe dal en daar trad je op in.
Was dat nou liefde of obsessie?
Wat wij deelden met elkaar
Twee verdwaalde geesten
Verenigd in depressie.
Liever nu dichten vanuit mijn burger leven
Dan samen met jouw van de aardbol verdwenen.

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La Soledad

Pienso que en este momento
tal vez nadie en el universo piensa en mí,
que solo yo me pienso,
y si ahora muriese,
nadie, ni yo, me pensaría.

Y aquí empieza el abismo,
como cuando me duermo.
Soy mi propio sostén y me lo quito.
Contribuyo a tapizar de ausencia todo.

Tal vez sea por esto
que pensar en un hombre
se parece a salvarlo.

Juarroz , Poema Vertical 9

Mi profesora me preguntó en clase definir la soledad pero no pude. No tenía bastante tiempo para intentar describir algo tan frío, evasivo, visible e invisible, objetivo y subjetivo. La soledad tiene muchos sabores pero, en esencia, hay un ingrediente inolvidable; un dolor dentro, a veces un dolor que se traduce en un pequeño infierno.
En su poema Juarroz sugiere que pensar en algo puede salvarlo. Si nadie piensa en mí, no existo más, estoy en soledad. Pero incluso si tuviera muchos contactos y, en la superficie, mi vida estuviera llena y contenta podría sentir el dolor terrible de la soledad. En su poema “Not waving but drowning” Stevie Smith describía a alguien que pide ayuda pero a lo lejos se piensa que está saludando. En las ultimas líneas aprendimos que el protagonista llamaba toda su vida pero nadie lo oyó “I was much too far out all my life and not waving but drowning.”
De verdad la soledad tiene muchas formas; el matrimonio sin amor, el emigrante atrapado en un país extranjero o el introvertido ahogandose en un grupo. Sin embargo, para mí, la historia de Ishi, el último de los Yahis ejemplifica la soledad más extrema. En 1911 se descubrió a un ‘hombre indio salvaje’ cerca del pueblo Oroville en California. No hablaba nada de inglés y ningún indio podría entender su lengua, su origen era un misterio para las autoridades. Por suerte dos antropólogos, Kroeber y Waterman, de la universidad de California oyeron sobre el hombre y lo tomaron a su cuidado.
Durante cinco años Ishi vivió en un museo y los profesores aprendieron todo que fue posible sobre él. No había otros hablantes de su idioma y, por eso, la comunicación era muy difícil y Kroeber tenía que aprender Yahi en lo posible. La historia de Ishi era la de una gente desplazada, toda liquidada ante de la fiebre del oro de California.
Ishi era un "Último mohicano" de verdad. Era en conjunto el pasado, el presente y el futuro de una civilización entera. En sus últimos cinco años Kroeber y Waterman documentaron todo que pudieron sobre los Yahis. Es casi imposible imaginar la soledad de Ishi, sin cualquiera o cualquier cosa de su patrimonio.
La muerte de Ishi era también el fin de los Yahis. No había nadie para cantar su canción de la muerte, un agujero negro de soledad.

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Onontplofte Bom

Mijn liefde voor jouw is als een onontplofte bom
Van buiten ben ik grijs en kil
Mijn binnenwerk verborgen
Maar druk wel eens op de juiste knop
Dan zie je de reactie ontketenen.
Mijn woorden bereiken zelden hun doel
Ik worstel met de liefde
Ik wens dat mijn passie dusdanig was
Dat ik wat romance zou kunnen bieden
Maar zo'n wezen ben ik niet
En daarmee moet je leven
Tot de dag dat de bom ontploft
En ik mijn hart eindelijk kan delen.

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The Chocolate Girl

There was once a girl called Lucy who really loved chocolate. She loved it so much that she would eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she could, if her mama would let her. Her mama gave her chocolate sometimes when she was a good girl but she always ended up wanting more.

She loved chocolate so much that she could start to think about it at any time at all. Mostly she thought about it just before she went to sleep. She thought of a world where everything was made of chocolate, chocolate flowers and chocolate animals, chocolate houses and chocolate cars.

And her chocolate thoughts would turn to chocolate dreams in which she was a princess living in a chocolate kingdom with a chocolate horse to draw her chocolate carriage to bring her back to her chocolate palace.

Then one night she had a very different dream. She found herself in a chocolate swimming pool. The water was chocolate brown and smelled wonderful. The little girl decided to go in to the pool take a swim. The water was very warm and felt nice. She decided to drink some of the chocolate water. It tasted just like her favourite type of chocolate.

She drank some more and then more and more. She was soon full of chocolate but she couldn’t stop herself. She kept drinking more because she loved chocolate so much.

But then things started to go wrong. Her tummy could not take any more and she started to feel pain. She got out of the pool and started to puke. She couldn’t stop being sick because she had swallowed way too much chocolate.

Her chocolate dream was becoming a chocolate nightmare. Lucy was crying started to wake up. She felt her mama’s arms around her and she realized that she was in her bed and not in a chocolate swimming pool.
- Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?
- Yes, I had a horrible nightmare about chocolate.
- But you love chocolate, why were you so scared?
- Because I drank way too much chocolate and got really sick. Mama, I never want to have that much chocolate again.

Lucy still loves chocolate but she knows not to eat too much because she remembers her dream and how you can have too much even of a very good thing.

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