Our second edition of Quickie Reasonings. These are items/things that either don’t merit my full attention, or where my opinion can be summoned in a brief snapshot. So here we go…
1. So Tiger was sexting Joselyn James. Joselyn James. Come on, Tiger. You sure you didn’t get your James pornstars mixed up, and were actually going Jayden? Then again, a cutass from Chuck Lidell for fucking his girl off camera ain’t cool and ain’t cute…
2. John Terry broke some basic man laws, and is getting everything he deserves. Your best friend’s baby mama is off limits. Period. Not even the “you can date my sister, but you better be marrying her” rule applies here. Ashley Cole simply need to watch Bill Bellamy in “How To Be A Player.” Over and Over. Until he learns how to not get caught. Then again, I don't think even James Bond could teach this dude how not to get caught...
3. As a matter of fact, no multimillionaire athletes should even consider marriage before they turn 35 and/or are retired about 3-4 years. I have never seen a more perfect marriage of temptation, opportunity, paparazzi, too young and dumb to have a pre-nup, and let me just give up 50% of my total worth, in my life.
4. I think Kobe needs to have a sit down with Ben Roethlisberger real quick…
5. FCB employees are covered by NATUC, but NGC’s aren’t??? WTF??? How does that work???
6. The speed at which a woman is allowed to cross the road, is relative to her hotness. In short, if you’re Zoe Saldana in a short skirt with pumps, you can take from now till December 21, 2012. Don’t worry, I’ll wait. If you’re Mo’Nique in Precious, you need to step lively, sister. Men simply need to jog at all times. Better to be safe than sorry…
7. You got the smoking law passed. It’s now in effect. Rejoice. That being said, DO NOT come into my designated space, and tell me my smoking is bothering you. In fact, do not even imply that maybe my smoking is affect your enjoyment of a relaxing evening. You have decided to leave the comfort of your legally-defined, safe zone to enter my free space. As such you will deal with my choice to fill this space with second hand, nicotine-laden gas. And no, I don’t care that your elderly grandfather is being bothered by the smoke. His place is inside. Along with your selfish ass.
8. And watching me cut-eye and whispering to your peoples ain’t gonna make me feel ashamed or apologetic either.
9. Payday needs to come fast, and my back pay with it. Brother got bills to pay…
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Soul Reasonings: A Box Of Chocolates...
(Note: This argument is made using the sole variable of sexual experience. All other variables (looks, personality, common interests, etc) are all held to equal, and thus disregarded. It is also not mean to rag on the “good girls” out there.)
“Why should I settle for one kind of chocolate, when I can have the entire box?”
“Chad, hear this…”
It was the usual beginning to the debates a partner and I normally have from time to time. Over the period of time that I have known him, I have found him to be equally pragmatic and dogmatic, often within the same conversation. So my interest was instantly piqued. He started with a story this time. Apparently, he had recently limed with an old acquaintance of his. And I mean acquaintance in the purest of terms. He knew her through a friend, and did not know her all that well. However, that first introduction had lead to a one night stand. Afterwards, she returned to lands afar, and they did not keep in touch. Therefore, this chance meeting came completely out of the blue. To his confusion, she was cool. To be specific and more clear, she acted more social (as a trini you know what this means) than friendly. This then spurred my own confusion. What was the problem? It was just a one nighter, right? There were no expectations. In his mind, due to the fact that they had slept together, there should have been more familiarity between them. He even admitted that his ego had been slightly bruised by her reaction. I grew even more confused. Then, came the debate-starter: “Whaeva, yes. That probably just mean she is ah bad ting…”
The quote at the start of this story came from an unusual source. I was living in the Atl (shawty) at the time. While hanging out with a friend of mine, I met an interesting young lady. No sparks ever flew, there was no mutual attraction, but the simple conversation was engaging. In the course of the discussion, the topic of male-female relations and sex came up, as it always does. The young lady was single, and completely happy so. A bit confused, I asked her why. Her response is now immortalized at the top of this blog post, as well as in my memory. Why? It was surprising, and refreshing, to hear a woman speak so openly about her sexuality. And it is here; sadly, that debate often turns into mud-slinging and name-calling.
It never ceases to amaze me how taboo the subject of female sexuality can be, even today. Even if one throws out the traditional gender roles that have been ingrained in society, there are still religious biases with which to contend. Personally, I have never conformed to any these. The concept that a women is beholden to a different set of sexual conventions, based solely on the fact that she is a woman, has always rung with me as being hollow and hypocritical. What makes a woman a slut, a whore, or a “bad ting”? Is it numbers? Disposition? Attitude? And why is it that the concept of a woman enjoying sex purely for the enjoyment of sex’s sake provokes such a strong response? In short, why is the idea of a sexually-liberated woman such a big deal?
I will avoid my view on the religious aspect for the simple reason that I’m not comfortable with dragging religion into this particular argument. I’m sorry but, in my experience, nothing makes people more irrational or judgmental, than arguing anything based on religious grounds. It’s like all common sense or rationality gets thrown out in the trash when you start introducing religious elements. (I’m spiritual btw, not religious). So why are sexual gender roles hypocritical in my view? Well, skipping past the well worn, feminist argument, there is the simple fact that we happen to benefit from it. I’m sorry, but if I may be so blunt, if I have to chose between a demure “good girl” who is still figuring out her sexual identity, and a “bad ting” who is familiar and comfortable with her body and her sense of self, give me the “bad ting” anyday, and twice on Friday nights. (I consider it a bonus if she drinks). Why? Because she is 10x more likely to know what she wants, how she wants it, and when she wants it. There tends to be an open-mindedness which invites open discourse on “adult” topics. Sex stopped being taboo about 40 years ago, people. Deal with it.
So for the second time of asking, and ultimately, what makes a woman a “bad ting”? I don’t think anyone truly knows. I have heard arguments run from specific numbers (I’ve heard numbers as low as 4 partners), to the asinine argument of “she cyah have more numbers than me.” My opinion? Who cares? I’ve been with women who had more partners than me, and I have been with a woman where I was her second sexual partner total. I have an ex who (before she met me), made a bet with one of her liming partners to see who could sleep with a man from each state of the US in a certain timeframe. And you know what? I did not care. Why? More than being a woman, and being constrained by silly concepts of what women can’t/shouldn’t do, I just saw her as an adult making an adult decision. As long as she was safe and responsible about it, who was/am I to judge? Besides, that thing she does with her tongue that makes your toes literally curl? Chances are it was perfected on not just one other person, but a couple other persons. Really. Go ask. I’ll wait while you find out. Ok. Feel any better or worse? And do you really care how many people it took for her to perfect it? And if so why? She’s doing it to you now, right? I’m telling you, this has to be the only situation where quality control has an inverse relationship between numbers tested and satisfaction gained. It makes no friggin’ sense.
I didn’t try to change my partner’s opinion on whether his one night stand was really a “bad ting” or not. I know him well enough to know that trying to do that is a lesson in futility. On the flip side, another partner once had an interesting take on the matter. According to his thesis, a prostitute is open about the fact that she has sex with multiple men, she tends to be safe about it, and she isn’t ashamed to showcase her skills or where she learned them. That’s more than you can say about the average woman. (Let’s ignore the obvious payment factor for argument’s sake). Who has the more mature and progressive mindset in this case? And you know what? His argument has a lot of salient points. So even though it will probably come to an end one day, I hope that young woman enjoyed her box of chocolates while it lasted. Because we are really too quick to lambaste women for having the courage to figure out which flavor really tickles their fancy. Now excuse me, there’s a “bad ting” I’m eyeing that I’m trying to convince to try out some mocha chocolate…
“Why should I settle for one kind of chocolate, when I can have the entire box?”
“Chad, hear this…”
It was the usual beginning to the debates a partner and I normally have from time to time. Over the period of time that I have known him, I have found him to be equally pragmatic and dogmatic, often within the same conversation. So my interest was instantly piqued. He started with a story this time. Apparently, he had recently limed with an old acquaintance of his. And I mean acquaintance in the purest of terms. He knew her through a friend, and did not know her all that well. However, that first introduction had lead to a one night stand. Afterwards, she returned to lands afar, and they did not keep in touch. Therefore, this chance meeting came completely out of the blue. To his confusion, she was cool. To be specific and more clear, she acted more social (as a trini you know what this means) than friendly. This then spurred my own confusion. What was the problem? It was just a one nighter, right? There were no expectations. In his mind, due to the fact that they had slept together, there should have been more familiarity between them. He even admitted that his ego had been slightly bruised by her reaction. I grew even more confused. Then, came the debate-starter: “Whaeva, yes. That probably just mean she is ah bad ting…”
The quote at the start of this story came from an unusual source. I was living in the Atl (shawty) at the time. While hanging out with a friend of mine, I met an interesting young lady. No sparks ever flew, there was no mutual attraction, but the simple conversation was engaging. In the course of the discussion, the topic of male-female relations and sex came up, as it always does. The young lady was single, and completely happy so. A bit confused, I asked her why. Her response is now immortalized at the top of this blog post, as well as in my memory. Why? It was surprising, and refreshing, to hear a woman speak so openly about her sexuality. And it is here; sadly, that debate often turns into mud-slinging and name-calling.
It never ceases to amaze me how taboo the subject of female sexuality can be, even today. Even if one throws out the traditional gender roles that have been ingrained in society, there are still religious biases with which to contend. Personally, I have never conformed to any these. The concept that a women is beholden to a different set of sexual conventions, based solely on the fact that she is a woman, has always rung with me as being hollow and hypocritical. What makes a woman a slut, a whore, or a “bad ting”? Is it numbers? Disposition? Attitude? And why is it that the concept of a woman enjoying sex purely for the enjoyment of sex’s sake provokes such a strong response? In short, why is the idea of a sexually-liberated woman such a big deal?
I will avoid my view on the religious aspect for the simple reason that I’m not comfortable with dragging religion into this particular argument. I’m sorry but, in my experience, nothing makes people more irrational or judgmental, than arguing anything based on religious grounds. It’s like all common sense or rationality gets thrown out in the trash when you start introducing religious elements. (I’m spiritual btw, not religious). So why are sexual gender roles hypocritical in my view? Well, skipping past the well worn, feminist argument, there is the simple fact that we happen to benefit from it. I’m sorry, but if I may be so blunt, if I have to chose between a demure “good girl” who is still figuring out her sexual identity, and a “bad ting” who is familiar and comfortable with her body and her sense of self, give me the “bad ting” anyday, and twice on Friday nights. (I consider it a bonus if she drinks). Why? Because she is 10x more likely to know what she wants, how she wants it, and when she wants it. There tends to be an open-mindedness which invites open discourse on “adult” topics. Sex stopped being taboo about 40 years ago, people. Deal with it.
So for the second time of asking, and ultimately, what makes a woman a “bad ting”? I don’t think anyone truly knows. I have heard arguments run from specific numbers (I’ve heard numbers as low as 4 partners), to the asinine argument of “she cyah have more numbers than me.” My opinion? Who cares? I’ve been with women who had more partners than me, and I have been with a woman where I was her second sexual partner total. I have an ex who (before she met me), made a bet with one of her liming partners to see who could sleep with a man from each state of the US in a certain timeframe. And you know what? I did not care. Why? More than being a woman, and being constrained by silly concepts of what women can’t/shouldn’t do, I just saw her as an adult making an adult decision. As long as she was safe and responsible about it, who was/am I to judge? Besides, that thing she does with her tongue that makes your toes literally curl? Chances are it was perfected on not just one other person, but a couple other persons. Really. Go ask. I’ll wait while you find out. Ok. Feel any better or worse? And do you really care how many people it took for her to perfect it? And if so why? She’s doing it to you now, right? I’m telling you, this has to be the only situation where quality control has an inverse relationship between numbers tested and satisfaction gained. It makes no friggin’ sense.
I didn’t try to change my partner’s opinion on whether his one night stand was really a “bad ting” or not. I know him well enough to know that trying to do that is a lesson in futility. On the flip side, another partner once had an interesting take on the matter. According to his thesis, a prostitute is open about the fact that she has sex with multiple men, she tends to be safe about it, and she isn’t ashamed to showcase her skills or where she learned them. That’s more than you can say about the average woman. (Let’s ignore the obvious payment factor for argument’s sake). Who has the more mature and progressive mindset in this case? And you know what? His argument has a lot of salient points. So even though it will probably come to an end one day, I hope that young woman enjoyed her box of chocolates while it lasted. Because we are really too quick to lambaste women for having the courage to figure out which flavor really tickles their fancy. Now excuse me, there’s a “bad ting” I’m eyeing that I’m trying to convince to try out some mocha chocolate…
Monday, March 8, 2010
43 Ways to Drive Yourself Batshit Crazy...
(Warning: This is loooooong…)
Literary lockjaw. Creative constipation. Writer’s block. They are all the same thing. And I have it. Badly. The strange thing is, I have ideas on what I want to write. I just don’t know how to get it out. I concede that my best writing normally comes out when I am emotionally invested in the subject. I believe that’s how it works for most artists. My problem is that I have so much pent up emotion right now, that my creative spigot is clogged. Everything is rushing to come out all at the same time. So, in the hope of jump-starting my flow, I have decided to simply list out everything that is weighing on me right now. Besides, who doesn’t love lists? Who knows, I may be able to pick the topics one by one afterwards and deal with them then. But as it stands right now, I need release. So with that diatribe out the way, I now present to you, Triniyute’s Guide to Creative Constipation, aka. 43 Ways to Drive Yourself Batshit Crazy for No Good Reason Whatsoever…
1. Bring in New Year walking an emotional tightrope.
2. Give ex-girlfriend who you still love space to sort out her emotional upheaval (which is unrelated to you) on her own, knowing full well she has a new S.O. (who you secretly wouldn’t mind braining with a full Carib bottle) who is in the right place at the right time.
3. Attempt to convince friends that you are doing the “right/mature thing” with regards to situation detailed in point 2.
4. Attempt to convince self that you are doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.
5. Resist urge to brain self with above mentioned Carib bottle, when ex’s new S.O. solidifies position due to your doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.
6. Start Carnival festivities with short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.
7. Receive news from friend that potentially crazy woman is running around Toronto telling people that she has a man back in Trinidad (with the understanding that you are the referenced “man”).
8. Avoid one of better fetes for the year when practically all of your crew is going, because it is held by the work place of your ex’s S.O., so you know they will be there.
9. Ironically, go to birthday lime of another ex who was big bone of contention in your relationship, in order to have excuse for not going fete. (Score bonus points for feeling completely awkward and out of place, since the two of you now have basically nothing in common, and you’re wondering why you were invited in the first place. Extra, extra bonus points for noting irony in situation )
10. Hangout with ex at annual Carnival house lime. Watch new S.O. pick her up from your house while noticing demon rage etched on his face.
11. Hang out with potentially crazy woman at free drinks fetes.
12. Cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete.
13. Regret alcohol-induced decision to cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete, very next day.
14. Go funeral of cool cousin.
15. Have panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.
16. Not make reception due to panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.
17. Go to cooler fete with potentially crazy woman that night.
18. Meet completely cool woman (funnily also from Toronto) and connect while at cooler fete.
19. Notice potentially crazy woman flashing you strange looks while connecting with completely cool woman at cooler fete.
20. Be informed by friend that potentially crazy woman has cancelled all plans to lime with you all for the rest of Carnival weekend.
21. Upgrade potentially crazy woman to probably crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
22. Play Jouvert with completely cool woman, and discover what may be legit connection there.
23. Play Monday Mas. Have a time. Palance with friends who own /operate a bar. Get wasted. Have a woman palance on your big toe with the heel of a pair of high-heeled boots. Run into probably crazy woman. Get snubbed.
24. Upgrade probably crazy woman to crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
25. Get up at ridiculously early hour on Carnival Tuesday to carry friend to make up appointment with ex.
26. Realise that ex is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Be confused.
27. Play Tuesday Mas. Be wasted by midday. Recover in time for evening festivities. Realise there may be a serious problem with toe that was palanced on day before. Ignore pain. Substitute alcohol for ibuprofen. Get snubbed by crazy woman again. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
28. Spend rest of vacation limping around on one foot because of severely bruised toe.
29. Spend completely cool woman’s last night in country with her. Realise she is cooler than you previously suspected. Promise to stay in touch and just see where things lead. Wonder if God is catching jollies at your expense.
30. Have discussion with aunt, detailing fact that fund set up to cover college loan expenses is now tapped out, due to ever increasing interest rate. Realise you have only covered about half of loan.
31. Return to work. Get promptly put on desk duty for 2 weeks due to severely bruised toe.
32. Receive short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.
33. Have 2 birthday limes, plus various other ridiculous, unforeseen, expenses pop up on short check.
34. Run into ex while hanging out at favored bar. Confirm that she is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Have cousin and liming partner confirm it. Notice certain new facets of behavior that is now a little worrying. Resist urge to brain self with Carib bottle.
35. Have good friend show up crying on doorstep with baby-daddy issues.
36. Have baby sister pull down blog, which is one of her pride and joys, due to unspecified events.
37. E-mail, text and talk on the phone to completely cool woman who is back in Toronto. Realise there is room for growth if you let it. Realise that she lives in another country. Realise you are still emotionally invested in your ex. Realise that you are dangerously close to recreating every single horrible relationship decision you have ever made.
38. Really wonder if God is catching his jollies right now.
39. Find out you are being blacklisted from potential advancement opportunity at job, for unknown reasons.
40. Explore options. Find out that your best advancement opportunities now lay in the UK…and Canada.
41. Tell God he has a cruel sense of humour.
42. Realise that crazy woman didn’t really delete you from Facebook, but had merely blocked you, and has now unblocked you. Upgrade crazy woman to serial nutjob. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
43. Write list, and post on blog.
And that is my easy 43-step Guide to Creative Constipation. All standard disclaimers apply.
(Please note, the author is not responsible for the effects of following the instructions on this list. Side effects may include, hair loss, wailing, gnashing of teeth, high blood pressure, increased drinking, increased smoking, inability to sleep, want/need to sleep more and general anti-social behavior. Pregnant woman should not follow this list, nor should the easily depressed or worked up…)
Literary lockjaw. Creative constipation. Writer’s block. They are all the same thing. And I have it. Badly. The strange thing is, I have ideas on what I want to write. I just don’t know how to get it out. I concede that my best writing normally comes out when I am emotionally invested in the subject. I believe that’s how it works for most artists. My problem is that I have so much pent up emotion right now, that my creative spigot is clogged. Everything is rushing to come out all at the same time. So, in the hope of jump-starting my flow, I have decided to simply list out everything that is weighing on me right now. Besides, who doesn’t love lists? Who knows, I may be able to pick the topics one by one afterwards and deal with them then. But as it stands right now, I need release. So with that diatribe out the way, I now present to you, Triniyute’s Guide to Creative Constipation, aka. 43 Ways to Drive Yourself Batshit Crazy for No Good Reason Whatsoever…
1. Bring in New Year walking an emotional tightrope.
2. Give ex-girlfriend who you still love space to sort out her emotional upheaval (which is unrelated to you) on her own, knowing full well she has a new S.O. (who you secretly wouldn’t mind braining with a full Carib bottle) who is in the right place at the right time.
3. Attempt to convince friends that you are doing the “right/mature thing” with regards to situation detailed in point 2.
4. Attempt to convince self that you are doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.
5. Resist urge to brain self with above mentioned Carib bottle, when ex’s new S.O. solidifies position due to your doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.
6. Start Carnival festivities with short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.
7. Receive news from friend that potentially crazy woman is running around Toronto telling people that she has a man back in Trinidad (with the understanding that you are the referenced “man”).
8. Avoid one of better fetes for the year when practically all of your crew is going, because it is held by the work place of your ex’s S.O., so you know they will be there.
9. Ironically, go to birthday lime of another ex who was big bone of contention in your relationship, in order to have excuse for not going fete. (Score bonus points for feeling completely awkward and out of place, since the two of you now have basically nothing in common, and you’re wondering why you were invited in the first place. Extra, extra bonus points for noting irony in situation )
10. Hangout with ex at annual Carnival house lime. Watch new S.O. pick her up from your house while noticing demon rage etched on his face.
11. Hang out with potentially crazy woman at free drinks fetes.
12. Cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete.
13. Regret alcohol-induced decision to cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete, very next day.
14. Go funeral of cool cousin.
15. Have panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.
16. Not make reception due to panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.
17. Go to cooler fete with potentially crazy woman that night.
18. Meet completely cool woman (funnily also from Toronto) and connect while at cooler fete.
19. Notice potentially crazy woman flashing you strange looks while connecting with completely cool woman at cooler fete.
20. Be informed by friend that potentially crazy woman has cancelled all plans to lime with you all for the rest of Carnival weekend.
21. Upgrade potentially crazy woman to probably crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
22. Play Jouvert with completely cool woman, and discover what may be legit connection there.
23. Play Monday Mas. Have a time. Palance with friends who own /operate a bar. Get wasted. Have a woman palance on your big toe with the heel of a pair of high-heeled boots. Run into probably crazy woman. Get snubbed.
24. Upgrade probably crazy woman to crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
25. Get up at ridiculously early hour on Carnival Tuesday to carry friend to make up appointment with ex.
26. Realise that ex is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Be confused.
27. Play Tuesday Mas. Be wasted by midday. Recover in time for evening festivities. Realise there may be a serious problem with toe that was palanced on day before. Ignore pain. Substitute alcohol for ibuprofen. Get snubbed by crazy woman again. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
28. Spend rest of vacation limping around on one foot because of severely bruised toe.
29. Spend completely cool woman’s last night in country with her. Realise she is cooler than you previously suspected. Promise to stay in touch and just see where things lead. Wonder if God is catching jollies at your expense.
30. Have discussion with aunt, detailing fact that fund set up to cover college loan expenses is now tapped out, due to ever increasing interest rate. Realise you have only covered about half of loan.
31. Return to work. Get promptly put on desk duty for 2 weeks due to severely bruised toe.
32. Receive short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.
33. Have 2 birthday limes, plus various other ridiculous, unforeseen, expenses pop up on short check.
34. Run into ex while hanging out at favored bar. Confirm that she is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Have cousin and liming partner confirm it. Notice certain new facets of behavior that is now a little worrying. Resist urge to brain self with Carib bottle.
35. Have good friend show up crying on doorstep with baby-daddy issues.
36. Have baby sister pull down blog, which is one of her pride and joys, due to unspecified events.
37. E-mail, text and talk on the phone to completely cool woman who is back in Toronto. Realise there is room for growth if you let it. Realise that she lives in another country. Realise you are still emotionally invested in your ex. Realise that you are dangerously close to recreating every single horrible relationship decision you have ever made.
38. Really wonder if God is catching his jollies right now.
39. Find out you are being blacklisted from potential advancement opportunity at job, for unknown reasons.
40. Explore options. Find out that your best advancement opportunities now lay in the UK…and Canada.
41. Tell God he has a cruel sense of humour.
42. Realise that crazy woman didn’t really delete you from Facebook, but had merely blocked you, and has now unblocked you. Upgrade crazy woman to serial nutjob. Thank God for blessings bestowed.
43. Write list, and post on blog.
And that is my easy 43-step Guide to Creative Constipation. All standard disclaimers apply.
(Please note, the author is not responsible for the effects of following the instructions on this list. Side effects may include, hair loss, wailing, gnashing of teeth, high blood pressure, increased drinking, increased smoking, inability to sleep, want/need to sleep more and general anti-social behavior. Pregnant woman should not follow this list, nor should the easily depressed or worked up…)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Through God and Beers
I did an interesting thing Sunday morning, around 2am. I came home from liming by the bar, and was looking for an interesting yet concise way to summarise my night into my FB status. What came out was a simple 3-line conversation that I supposedly had with God, over some drinks. While I know this style is used heavily in I Just Febrezed My Dog and 365 Days of Silence, I do remember at least reserving the right to borrow his style for at least 1 posting, from Mr. Ross. Now if this offends you, sorry, it wasn't meant to. And bear with me, this is my first attempt at a "script", so please be gentle with the criticism, :). So that being said:
Thru God and Beers (Or in my case, JWB)
Setting: An upscale bar… Chad drinking JWB, God drinking red wine…
Chad Hall: (looking slightly lost and forlorn) *Sigh*
God: (struggling to contain laughter) I dunno what yuh sighing and looking like yuh dog dead for, yuh know. I fed up talk to yuh.
CH: And? Yuh point is?
God: Yuh blinking harden, dat is meh point. Right now you running like a “B”-movie. The story now start, and I already seeing how it going to end.
CH: Oh really? And how this going to play out?
God: Come nah man. All yuh peoples seeing it. Sin seeing it, Wiles seeing it, Ko seeing it. Hell, I pretty sure Ze and Ging seeing it and would tell yuh, but Google doh have a canine-to-english translator. You really not seeing it?
CH: Yuh know, I’m glad one of us seeing the comedy in this…
God: So I’m supposed to deny my sense of humor because you being stubborn and playing the ass? How that helping me or you? Because I trying to teach you a life-lesson, doesn’t mean I can’t laugh at the situation. Ah mean, the situation funny and you did create it…
CH: (Watching God strangely at the use of the word “ass”)
God: What? Because allyuh make “ass” a kinda “dirty” word, I can’t use it? I have a book with the word printed about 3 million and one times in it. Look, allyuh ‘llow me, eh…
CH: See? Is dat kinda outta timing… I does really wonder how we does lime sometimes yuh know…
God: Cuz is ah love. And I look out for you. And yuh owe meh more favors than yuh think. And you does invite me to lime, anyway. With that, your rounds. And get some bread to go with the wine this time, feeling a bit peckish…
End scene…
Thru God and Beers (Or in my case, JWB)
Setting: An upscale bar… Chad drinking JWB, God drinking red wine…
Chad Hall: (looking slightly lost and forlorn) *Sigh*
God: (struggling to contain laughter) I dunno what yuh sighing and looking like yuh dog dead for, yuh know. I fed up talk to yuh.
CH: And? Yuh point is?
God: Yuh blinking harden, dat is meh point. Right now you running like a “B”-movie. The story now start, and I already seeing how it going to end.
CH: Oh really? And how this going to play out?
God: Come nah man. All yuh peoples seeing it. Sin seeing it, Wiles seeing it, Ko seeing it. Hell, I pretty sure Ze and Ging seeing it and would tell yuh, but Google doh have a canine-to-english translator. You really not seeing it?
CH: Yuh know, I’m glad one of us seeing the comedy in this…
God: So I’m supposed to deny my sense of humor because you being stubborn and playing the ass? How that helping me or you? Because I trying to teach you a life-lesson, doesn’t mean I can’t laugh at the situation. Ah mean, the situation funny and you did create it…
CH: (Watching God strangely at the use of the word “ass”)
God: What? Because allyuh make “ass” a kinda “dirty” word, I can’t use it? I have a book with the word printed about 3 million and one times in it. Look, allyuh ‘llow me, eh…
CH: See? Is dat kinda outta timing… I does really wonder how we does lime sometimes yuh know…
God: Cuz is ah love. And I look out for you. And yuh owe meh more favors than yuh think. And you does invite me to lime, anyway. With that, your rounds. And get some bread to go with the wine this time, feeling a bit peckish…
End scene…
Sunday, February 28, 2010
New Look...
Ooooooh, we sexay nowwwww...
More seriously though, I figured it was time to upgrade from the "toolbox" template that Blogger has been so kind to provide us. Think of it as growing up in blog terms. I also wanted the blog to have a more personal feel. After all, it is my space for my thoughts. So, in keeping with the contradictory asshole that I am, I turned to an outside source to design a banner and redesign the layout for me. So now that the sighing, head-shaking and steupsing has died down, all I have to say is, damn Spotty Cuss, you do good work. (Who else did you think I would turn to?)
In the short period of time that I have known Tammy, I have found her to be stubborn, out-spoken, and to literally have no cover for her mouth. In short, I value her friendship dearly, and consider her to be a little sister. I have a rule for my friendships. I don't keep my friends because they are sycophants. I keep them because they have the fearlessness to pull me aside and tell me squarely "dread, yuh fucking up." Tammy fits this mold perfectly. She is also kind, loyal and thoughtful. So when I approached her to redesign my page, I simply told her to go with whatever feelings my blog inspire in her. I then gave her my login and password, and told her to run wild. No limitations, complete creative control. And I love the result.
So thanks, Cuss. As usual, you pulled it out again :)
More seriously though, I figured it was time to upgrade from the "toolbox" template that Blogger has been so kind to provide us. Think of it as growing up in blog terms. I also wanted the blog to have a more personal feel. After all, it is my space for my thoughts. So, in keeping with the contradictory asshole that I am, I turned to an outside source to design a banner and redesign the layout for me. So now that the sighing, head-shaking and steupsing has died down, all I have to say is, damn Spotty Cuss, you do good work. (Who else did you think I would turn to?)
In the short period of time that I have known Tammy, I have found her to be stubborn, out-spoken, and to literally have no cover for her mouth. In short, I value her friendship dearly, and consider her to be a little sister. I have a rule for my friendships. I don't keep my friends because they are sycophants. I keep them because they have the fearlessness to pull me aside and tell me squarely "dread, yuh fucking up." Tammy fits this mold perfectly. She is also kind, loyal and thoughtful. So when I approached her to redesign my page, I simply told her to go with whatever feelings my blog inspire in her. I then gave her my login and password, and told her to run wild. No limitations, complete creative control. And I love the result.
So thanks, Cuss. As usual, you pulled it out again :)
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Broken Promises
I owe all 8 of my followers (well those that I know of) an apology. I promised a series of articles over a period of time and failed to deliver them. This is inexcusable, and you deserve an explanation. But one is owed a bigger apology than the rest. Not for me failing to post some random scribblings, but for failing to be there as I promised. This is not me asking for pity. This February was a crazy month. It was supposed to be my time to palance (and for those fed up of the term, I promise it’s the last time you will see it in this space). I had grand plans. The Hurricane was coming in. The festivities were set to begin. And then I received another brutal reminder of the mortality that rules us all.
I normally take vacation from the Monday before the arrival of the Hurricane, till the Friday after her departure. It’s normally difficult to keep up with her when I have nothing to do, much less when I have work the following morning. The night her flight was to touch down, I received a call from my sister. Her cousin, Roger, had died. To say I was disbelieving would be a minor understatement. This was a guy who I had just partied and celebrated with at her wedding. A proper month had barely passed since I last saw him. He was a young guy too. Had just turned 40, the day before my sister’s wedding. And he hadn’t been ill either. “Pulmonary embolism leading to sudden cardiac arrest,” they said. In layman’s terms, he had a blood clot, and it found its way into his heart. And suddenly, the previous month and a half all came rushing back.
I have been to 4 funerals, between the dates of Christmas Eve 2009, and Carnival Friday 2010. I have known each of the deceased personally. 3 out of the 4 were young lives that ended too soon, and the 4th was a life that deserved to go on forever, in my humble opinion. I cried after the first one, when I did not even know I had tears that needed to be shed. I manned up, and made it through the second and third, without waterworks. Roger broke my spirit. I promised to return to his parents’ house after I left the funeral. I spent 45 mins in the shower alternating between dry heaving and hyper-ventilating. I couldn’t do it. I went out the night and tried to get completely sloshed. I was halfway successful. And then I basically ghosted through the rest of Carnival. I think the only person who knew something was wrong, was the Hurricane. And I thank her for helping me hold my shit together, when she knew I was falling apart.
Things haven exactly lightened up either. The biggest thing is that my mother’s cousin is in a NY hospital, and is in the endgame stage of his fight with cancer. This man helped raise me when I was young. I consider him to be one of my father figures. My great aunt has already dreamed that he came to tell her goodbye. I’m struggling right now. As old folk say, plain talk, bad manners.
I haven’t been honest to the intent of my blog. I have been holding shit in, in the misguided belief that I would be fine. That I did not need to let it out. Well I’m not. And now I don’t know where to begin.
I owe my eldest sister the biggest apology. I reneged on a bigger promise to her to come back to the house. J, I don’t know if I can make up not being there. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.
Chad
I normally take vacation from the Monday before the arrival of the Hurricane, till the Friday after her departure. It’s normally difficult to keep up with her when I have nothing to do, much less when I have work the following morning. The night her flight was to touch down, I received a call from my sister. Her cousin, Roger, had died. To say I was disbelieving would be a minor understatement. This was a guy who I had just partied and celebrated with at her wedding. A proper month had barely passed since I last saw him. He was a young guy too. Had just turned 40, the day before my sister’s wedding. And he hadn’t been ill either. “Pulmonary embolism leading to sudden cardiac arrest,” they said. In layman’s terms, he had a blood clot, and it found its way into his heart. And suddenly, the previous month and a half all came rushing back.
I have been to 4 funerals, between the dates of Christmas Eve 2009, and Carnival Friday 2010. I have known each of the deceased personally. 3 out of the 4 were young lives that ended too soon, and the 4th was a life that deserved to go on forever, in my humble opinion. I cried after the first one, when I did not even know I had tears that needed to be shed. I manned up, and made it through the second and third, without waterworks. Roger broke my spirit. I promised to return to his parents’ house after I left the funeral. I spent 45 mins in the shower alternating between dry heaving and hyper-ventilating. I couldn’t do it. I went out the night and tried to get completely sloshed. I was halfway successful. And then I basically ghosted through the rest of Carnival. I think the only person who knew something was wrong, was the Hurricane. And I thank her for helping me hold my shit together, when she knew I was falling apart.
Things haven exactly lightened up either. The biggest thing is that my mother’s cousin is in a NY hospital, and is in the endgame stage of his fight with cancer. This man helped raise me when I was young. I consider him to be one of my father figures. My great aunt has already dreamed that he came to tell her goodbye. I’m struggling right now. As old folk say, plain talk, bad manners.
I haven’t been honest to the intent of my blog. I have been holding shit in, in the misguided belief that I would be fine. That I did not need to let it out. Well I’m not. And now I don’t know where to begin.
I owe my eldest sister the biggest apology. I reneged on a bigger promise to her to come back to the house. J, I don’t know if I can make up not being there. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.
Chad
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 2... Hot Sun and Riddim
Ok, so we’ve gotten an early jump on my project for February 2010. It’s all good though. Sometimes, when the spirit moves you, you can’t do anything other than go for the ride. With that being said, this post is a bit different from my previous entries. For the first time ever, I have a guest writer. Even more strangely, I didn’t ask him to write a damn thing for me! (Go figure). But Kory is more of my baby brother (who dwarfs me physically, but I digress) than my baby cousin. So if ANYONE gets free reign and first choice in submitting unsolicited material, it would be him. (Btw, unsolicited submissions are always welcomed, helps out when I have writer’s block, but I’m digressing again). Anyway, Kory is the baby cousin who, ahem, “accompanied” me on those lovely 4am trips down to Jouvert. And this is his take on the moment he fell in love with Carnival. I present to you:
All We Need is Hot Sun and Riddim! By Kory Hall
After reading Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 1... Carnival Baby, I was hurtled into a wave of memories that reach its crescendo at approximately 5:30pm on carnival Tuesday back in 1989. Only 8 years old, I was witness to one of the few truly magical moments of Carnival; David Rudder, Charlie’s Roots and Minshall Mas outside De Mas Camp Pub. Any Trini who’s worth a doubles with slight knows exactly what that means. The haunting yet enticing blare of the brass, the beat of the drum, the chant of a man who’s talent is unmistakably blessed, all combined to create a connection to the Tribal roots of this diverse nation of ours.
Now most eight year olds are usually concerned with their next Mario bros fix, but not this day. That day I became one with my country and my culture. It enveloped me. Hugged me and told me I belonged. Like my alcoholic cousin (fuh sure we related), I was often irritated by the grown up need to drag us everywhere they went, but I realized now what they were doing. The intent behind the upheaval of our clueless childhood was to create two more full blooded, mad ass Trinis who would Palance their way into the future with the sole purpose of spreading this seed of bliss to our children. Almost sounds like a body snatchers flick, but who cares.
Well said, Kory. Well said.
All We Need is Hot Sun and Riddim! By Kory Hall
After reading Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 1... Carnival Baby, I was hurtled into a wave of memories that reach its crescendo at approximately 5:30pm on carnival Tuesday back in 1989. Only 8 years old, I was witness to one of the few truly magical moments of Carnival; David Rudder, Charlie’s Roots and Minshall Mas outside De Mas Camp Pub. Any Trini who’s worth a doubles with slight knows exactly what that means. The haunting yet enticing blare of the brass, the beat of the drum, the chant of a man who’s talent is unmistakably blessed, all combined to create a connection to the Tribal roots of this diverse nation of ours.
Now most eight year olds are usually concerned with their next Mario bros fix, but not this day. That day I became one with my country and my culture. It enveloped me. Hugged me and told me I belonged. Like my alcoholic cousin (fuh sure we related), I was often irritated by the grown up need to drag us everywhere they went, but I realized now what they were doing. The intent behind the upheaval of our clueless childhood was to create two more full blooded, mad ass Trinis who would Palance their way into the future with the sole purpose of spreading this seed of bliss to our children. Almost sounds like a body snatchers flick, but who cares.
Well said, Kory. Well said.
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