In case anyone got a crazy idea in their brains that I'm a racialist, I've decided to let you in on me average routine over one average day:

9AM: Radio gently wakes me up with music by me favourite African artists. Most of them are friends of mine. Friends with senses of humour.
 

9.30:  A lovely breakfast of halwa puri cholay, prepared by me Pakistani cook, who I love like a dear sister. She makes the puris extra crispy. 
 

10.30:  A visit to me favourite gay Japanese florist. Sometimes he invites me in back for sake and tells me how persecuted he is. Makes me cry. His delivery boy is also gay. I hugged him on his birthday.
 

11.30-3 PM:  Voice training with these brilliant Vietnamese scale charts I discovered. Well, it's the ink that's Vietnamese, but I can feel it in the music. Actually, I still have to check on that ink part. But my God, did I love Indochine.3-6:  I relax with some Beethoven. He was The Deaf Genius, wasn't he? If that's the music deaf people make, then deafen me up.
 

6-8:  Over dinner of lamb jalfarazi, peas and tandoori cauliflower, I type out liner notes in braille. Why should the sighted be the only ones who know who played bass on that one song?
 

8-?  Big night out with everyone I mentioned above. (Except Beethoven.) We bask in the smoky good vibes and get toasted... on tolerance.
 

Bedtime. Big Mama Thornton's ghost (also black, but paler) tucks me in and I dream of a better world for our children.
 

Did I leave anyone out? Oh yeah, I got a mute cousin. Crisis fixed!