Wednesday, November 08, 2017

breathing space

too much not good enough and the stress suffocating, so even though is the las' ting i should spend time on right now, i clearing some tabs because is the only space i seeing in front my eye that could clear 1time. and it eh even plenty, so a quick clearing; i shall breathe easier, resources shall be archived:
starting with joan didion's on self respect [vogue1961] and vahni capildeo's microtravel: home and away both for great writing and the latter also because the reconceptualising of travel writing too sweet...
and this eileen myles poem peanut butter, such a strong example of playing with form creating the feeling...
aaand supercool space sounds, listen to the universe!
plus some intrigue to carry away in these fbi files on the late dr. eric williams, 1st locally elected prime minister of trinidad+tobago...
look ting!
walk good.

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Wednesday, October 11, 2017

elephant

short choreo film entirely produced by women of colour against street harassment.

walk good

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Tuesday, October 03, 2017

a reading/writing+resources post

i have tabs of useful reading+writing, so let the resources begin:
out of moko jumbie conversation, collection of supernatural collective nouns;
the supremely valuable how to show and not tell in writing;
documenting queen street on occasion of it becoming janelle penny commissiong street, port of spain, trinidad;
how americanisms are killing the english language, provocative read/idea, absorbing other versions of one's language loses oneself;
and, about "losing oneself" and wha' tha' might even mean, science reading brainwaves and reconstructing faces directly out of memory without one's active participation is terrifying; if i cyah remember someting, nobody else supposed to be able to dig around in my mind and pull wha' i can't!
lemme follow with someting way more enjoyable to consider, back in 1982 i was dealing acid at jim morrison's grave and that's when i first met vladimir putin...delightful read, but also inspiration for how to handle tings writing...
and to close with further inspiration, plus beauty+movement, raised by krump
Raised By Krump from Maceo Frost on Vimeo.
brokenness continues but so does life.
make/art/wuk
walk good

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Thursday, September 21, 2017

in all fairness...

i watch we flim, the lies we tell, and not only am i definitely still in it (playing sooo far from type...heheheh) it wasn' nearly as bad as i feared, although the awful script still shone through as such...
but it need to be said after yesterday's rant, that mostly due to decent-to-good performances (admittedly, with a few exceptions) and strong camera work, the flim turn out to be a totally watchable bacchanal. not brilliant but definitely watchable. and audience enjoy it enough to call for a part2 (possibly mostly the desire of a people starved for quality local representation to finally see our selves onscreen, but still...) look ting!
walk good

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Wednesday, September 20, 2017

the love that doh love me back

this evening i skipping technique[dance] class to watch a flim@ttff despite hating both the idea+necessity because is 1 of only 2 opportunities and i suspect i performing sunday during the other. the fact that on wednesday i still eh know if/when i performing sunday is a whole 'nother post about a whole 'nother setta fuckery, though, because right now frustration rooted in skipping necessities for someting i cyah technically afford [dance doh pay bills here] because it concern me, all while knowing my [non]career in this place suggests i'll do all this to find meself cut from said flim and thus unconcerned, anyway...
i am an actor, and a good one. i know this, but nobody else in trinbago except the canals+blkbox[+sondu] does because i've had so little opportunity to do so. this is a flim with a script so bad i almost bow out, and didn't only because i needed to make money, and was cast in a small enough role to minimise embarrassment at my involvement...the latter being why i could easily reach+find my wuk left 'pon figurative cuttingroom floor.
i put down, as always, the best wuk i could under circumstances (once i commit to a wuk, i going through hard giving bes' performance, shitty script and all) but in the moment was directed to deliver wha' i consider a way more 1dimensional+basic performance than i come prepared to give; they clearly wanted a 1note evilbitch with no actual character, and demanded i remove all subtlety and attempt@realistic motivation (difficult as it was to find in the 1st damn place) from her terrible, terrible lines (and i mean terrible! even after my suggesting to writer/producer that even a woman who hates women generally wouldn't make fun of someone being gangraped+hospitalised) leaving me to hope their good sense prevailed+led them to cut my scenes for the sake of their movie. because being a decent human being leaves me to hope my 'career' suffers. and i eh even sure if that, or not being cut, worse, with a flim of suspect quality...
but wha' really grinding me is the more+more unshakeable feeling that this is as good as it gets for me as an actor here (was in more plays+films in 10years in d.c. in spite of being an accented outsider). this place rarely, if ever, doing ting that call for the likes of me (hence diablesse diaries; creating my own show/wuk) and the few times it has, other shit get in the way. the 3 instances where it technically on me for refusing a role or not auditioning were casting calls i chose to ignore or offer turned down because my interest in the production couldn' override wha' i knew to be poor choices of creative team, and the heartbreak of getting excited about a potential show then crashing when you hear the director or choreographer's name is almost as upsetting as cast-as-lead-but-eh-perform, like both carnival medea and this love, where directors had hidden agenda and fucked me over for it (to their own detriment because it severely negatively affected the quality of both productions [not just my opinion]; both ended up being shit shows, the former bad enough that we were jealous of the friend who wisely left@intermission!) or moksha, my 1st local flim, which after all the wuk (plentyplenty takes of jump-filled choreo, on sand) still never see a screen, we never see a single frame of footage, and we still eh know why 25years later...
i debate posting about the bullshit sometimes, but eh enough of a bacchanalist, oui, plus too busy trying to make wuk for me to make/art/wuk since this place clearly doh give a shit and is all one me for meself...
walk good

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Thursday, September 14, 2017

reality check

this might be a slight ramble, but wha' the fuck, is my blog, ent? plus i always saying i doh write here enough...
my whole life people telling me i need to lower my standards. needless to say, i eh trying to hear that. well, i guess i cyah say "needless to say" since people bother to utter such nonsense to me in the 1st place thus making me say ting now, but i feel anybody who know me even a little should know better. i consider my high standards a good ting; if you wanna roll with me, rise and meet them, raise yours, even; high standards should be the norm. why condition oneself and the world to do worse and accept lesser? how that good for anybody out here? i doh even think it good that my standards considered that noticeably higher than the norm because i think we need to raise the bar on the damn "norm", at least in sweet trini.
that said, with the understanding that i find lowering standards an unacceptable way to choose+do friends+relationships+life, i now finally trying to face the harsh reality that i may have no choice, where writing concerned, to pay bills.
allyuh. i eh facking know wha' to do with meself. i feel like this shit killing me (plus, i jus' eh very good@it) every second i agonising over it but i am a grown-ass woman with a parent to eventually mind (yeah, that whole no-chirren-because-cyah-afford gambit nullified by the way-longer lives parents living, ent) and diminishing options for making money if i eh willing to write fluff, or about shit i eh care enough about to write well enough about to meet my standards. and i know plenty shit i write that eh meet my standards and meet delete instead woulda be accepted and paid for by somebody, somewhere, but i have severe limits on wha' i willing to put my byline on and send out into the world.
but. bills hadda pay, ent?
so wha' i go do? watch others make money i need doing wha' i and everybody who know me know i could do better, because it fall below my standards of wha' i wanna do? stay too broke to celebrate my 40th birthday? be unable to mind the mother when time come?
i always a realist an ting, eh, but facing this reality hard like life, dread...
walk good

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Tuesday, September 05, 2017

best of my possible worlds?

life just keeps on keeping on at an alarming pace, and the more mine complicates, the less i write of it, directly, here. sometimes i hadda remind self that i writing elsewhere and lack of it here doh mean lack...even if it still make me feel guilty sometimes...
speaking of which! i finally get to hear bits of diablesse diaries draft voiced out loud by others, and the difference from inside my head is as great as i feared, but editing is another love and it on like a socks...plus, my readers even like elements so at least i know i eh crazy. the wuk worth pursuing. which i need. someting need to wuk right now. someting hadda feel good out here, in these times of not nearly enough...
[that said, out loud against my better judgement, thank goodness for vitamin q!]
milestones cropping up and climbed over, clumsily, not at all the way i'd like, but survived and learned from as best i can, and yet, knowing as much, i feel underprepared, like i know nothing at all. which is about as much as i know, i think...see how convoluted? 1step forward 2steps back too mucha the damn time...this year's major project fall through after booking my time to the exclusion of others, leaving me broke+underemployed las' minute, once again, so the world in a mess as my world in a mess and all spiralling out of control while i jus' trying to finally complete the 2projects i wukkin on for me for these last few years, in between trying to pay bills. to reach so close to having both diablesse+other done by the end of carnival season then be thwarted by columbia ruining my money and machine (and thus, ability to earn more) then have this year's major income fall down on top of that making this year a punishment...at least q keeping me company...hm, 2mentions, living dangerously...or finally learning to trust?
riiight...sound like is time for better words, before i embarrass meself; wish i could cut+paste the txt right here so any passerby could experience immediately, but it more than worth an extra click, gabe moses, queer poetics: how to make love to a trans person.
and more words to check out later, how the beeb taking the new world on board@bbc pidgin.
plus this talk on the human brain hallucinating one's conscious reality, because, existential crisis, always, ent...and right right now, as i now type the words "existential crisis" i suddenly feel like doing the very writing i open by saying i do less+less of over time...mouth open 'tory jump out? maybe...living dangerously, indeed...
walk good
oh! ps: goodworks/resources; 25,000 old records digitized and made available for download!

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Thursday, June 22, 2017

"everyone knows i am a haunting", by shivanee ramlochan, goddess...

everyone knows i am a haunting does not go gently.
it burns, slices razors through layers of self wrapped warm+tight for protection, drowns what you think you know in seas of blood, lush canefields of desecration, jungles of sadness and immortality...these poems are elemental, are of kali, ganesh, shiva, ifa, j'ouvert, obeah, sargassum, douen, soucouyant, faith, immolation, desire, teeth, hair, sinew, wings, womb, knuckles, jawbones, blood...
these poems do not let you go gently. they snatch your insides, sparking the fires of mothers, daughters, and would-be daughters deep in your belly, becoming strength to cultivate a life that knows love is a festival even on the blade of a 3line. these poems will take you to your knees, splintered with the broken pieces you salvage in the wake of shattered expectations; these poems know out-of-body as both deliverance and destruction; these poems brandish orgasms as weapons. these poems may bruise your soul but make you want to breathe inside them still, scar tissue forming against the darkness, thanking the universe for life+lessons. these poems are the tears you need to cleanse, the bush bath, the blue soap. these poems speak of their origins and ours. these poems are already in your blood and your everything is waiting to hear their song...
read.
dance.
live.

walk good.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

speechless from words above... and below. glad you made most from cold columbia; even in pea peacoat weather. herehear ting that'll keep you eternally warm; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-l5EIcNyo0
go hear whole album.

9:18 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

oh yes, ah know she some time now...

3:51 pm  

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Wednesday, June 21, 2017

archiving/ideas

catching up done. now is the time; make/art/wuk.
thus, threads need archiving; more sooncome.
just because this thread too funny: change 1letter in movie title, to hilarious results, hundreds...
2different takes on feminism and the world: america made me feminist, different places/cultures treating differently with women makes certain mental response more/less necessary, depending, through exploration of being woman in different countries; and feminist science fiction's exploration of "dystopian" realities predicting the future long time...
because i been saying octopi could run the world, collection of octopi escape stories/videos.
information about this place always important to me, even trinidad+tobago crime statistics. and our local leper island, chacachacare. but always trying to remember the positive, this sweet pan piece for national geographic, hear the song of trinidad.
and closing local/regional, trini maya cozier's documentary on bajan artist sheena rose:

Sheena Rose from Maya Cozier on Vimeo.
walk good

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Wednesday, June 07, 2017

colombia, carnival, life, nah...

dread. tha' colombia trip was a fucking trip. in a surprising twist of events, my self-volunteered host, originator of the idea and instigator of the whole trip in the 1st place, turned out to be a controlling asshole, and in a complete unsurprise to anybody who know me even a little, i remained and continue to be the uncontrollable person i was when we met and entire time we spend in communication. it went very poorly, to say the least. plus the damn place was freezing the entire time because in bogota and mountainous regions like la calera (halfhour outside bogota) where i stayed, temperatures drop low enough to effectively be winter, but as a country, they have no indoor heating. none. not in homes (except fireplaces of those wealthy enough), not in stores, not in restaurants, there is no reprieve, no relief from cold, no coming home and taking off layers, ever; i wore my coat and was miserable the entire trip; tha's why ponchos+ruanas shape so: they expect other layers underneath. but...2+weeks in colombia was great! i loved being in bogota even though i was having a terrible time; i even use my cameraphone for the 1st time and take [well-captioned, if i do say so meself] photos, for the 1st time, and even think i did pretty decent. i walk all over, saw some good art and cool architecture, reach functional spanish...although, the food...sigh...just like the costa rica trip, i come back skinny, lose real weight because the food was good in theory, but kinna bland in execution; is like some latin american cuisines need an introduction to green seasoning, oui...
carnival was...well, you done see the photo [our jouvay selfie courtesy ty] and i couldn' wish for a better 20th anniversary of blue. plus nico was here for a hot 2weeks earlyseason...'twas a bes' jouvay and 3canal2017 was a bes' show. but, life...my machine hated colombia and never recovered; it blacked out on me the day after i reach and refuse resuscitation for a week then turn on again for a hot few hours before the nex weeklong blackout, then upon return home would only turn on intermittently and when it did the screen was doing weird fuckup tings, and eventually stop wuk. i have had shit-to-no machine since december, none at all from midmarch. i have been losing my little mind to frustration and dying inside over diablesse diaries lingering...but i shall not dwell. we here now. make/art/wuk.
walk good.

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Monday, December 12, 2016

haiku to my 1eternal true love

sheets of powdered dhal,
fluffy pillows of
pumpkin, bodi, slight pepper…

walk good
biglove

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Monday, November 21, 2016

jojo abot "to li"


wine low.
walk good.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

love this tune here! its been a minute longer than i like. but check this too:
http://www.electronicbeats.net/the-feed/gorillaz-release-female-mix-anticipation-new-album/
music for music. hope tings well. where your columbia post?

9:34 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

you ask 'bout colombia post when i back barely 12hours?! you's a beast, dread! but also, my laptop refused to turn on while i was there so i freaked out for 2+half weeks and intended to see 'bout it tomorrow, but had such a glorious night tonight i decided to try, just because the universe feeling me, and get lucky...sooo...me eh know 'bout that colombia post just yet, nah, and because, also, that trip was a trip...but thanks for music, shall check it out, and yes, this jojo abot is winner, eh :]
walk good.

4:07 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

sweet trini, you're loved. and missed. columbia? carnival? life, nah?
in the meanwhile, these:
https://youtu.be/XOX9O_kVPeo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvTRZJ-4EyI
second music video have a old school late 90s feel/effects, right?

1:49 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

thanks for the love, anon, i missed it too; feels good to be back. and yes, the kendrick totally does, but a refreshed, better version, ent...tenx, much enjoyed...
walk good

12:39 pm  

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Thursday, November 17, 2016

decrypted

cyah lie, i real cyah complain right now. big tings a gwan, colombia in less than 5weeks and plotting+scheming cuba2017 underway, writing+dancing coming to come as they should, projects to look forward to, and i eh minding nobody. i even looking to post some fiction here again...but while i edit+whatnot, tab-clutter accumulating, plus my fear of losing before archiving grows, so...
because i paranoid but busy right now i need to find this again in a few weeks when i finally get around to backing up+encrypting my life. privacy. is. everything.
and speaking of my paranoia, brilliant+terrifying as my favourite art/science endeavours always are, deep learning is xackly why i fear a.i. even if we already have a few acknowledging the inevitable determination that jobs are for machines and studying wha' we go do...
future fears but i need resources that speak of our past: timeline of major wars through history.
also for said present needs, ting i done forget i learn about how to search more effectively when i was working in the media...
and a breakdown of the big 5 u.s. trade book publishers.
and the history of the ouija board, for the experiments demonstrating that people seem to "know" more when they think some external force is giving them the answers rather than their own minds...
and just 'cause i find the artwork for nasa's faux travel agency a loveliness; enjoy...
walk good.

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Monday, September 26, 2016

noos [2015]

because this piece, choreography+execution all2both, too amazing to not have at my fingertips from this moment.

walk good.

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

at times to push through tragedy, it is bes' we appreciate the culture. and so i offer this: https://vimeo.com/182706453
seems something you would enjoy.

11:02 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

anonymous, you flirting with me or wha? thank you for, again, attention to my tastes; been following this since they start production...good looking out; hoping you continue...walk good

10:52 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

also, anon, tragedy you speak of is my not-writing-well-spell, or the state of life, the universe, and everything? just realise i forget to ask...plus, yuhknow the real reason i ask about identity is not to unmask, per se, but simply because using comments here is a particularly inefficient way to communicate...talk soon. walk good.

12:09 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

yes, i flirting with you. and i speak of the state of life, the universe, and everything. more inspiration soon come.

11:13 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

@anon
:]
walk good

12:39 pm  

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Friday, September 23, 2016

when it doh fit, doh force it...

should be wukkin but words eh coming and tabs need closing, sooo...attempting this other productivity...
lemme start with the most upsetting. because i need to archive this so i can find it when i need to remember. or remind somebody. women endangered out here and men will blame everything but themselves...
then this, because reading it make me feel somewhat better 'bout life as part of another endangered group; i hope becky becomes a slur.
still dealing in reality but less depressing, local history for my research+writing, woodbrook (plus the rest of that best of trinidad site to investigate and maybe sidebar) and the mystery of the galfa graves.
and in unreality, theatre practitioners' joy, hilarious rehearsal notes re:chair...and [semi?]reality, hadda be the best costume shop evahhh in a place i'd never go for no other reason except for the treasure of unclaimed luggage sent there (alabama, though, seriously?) and, with a bang, my kinna madness, potential reality [written by sean crouch, directed by devon avery] one-minute time machine

walk good.

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Friday, September 02, 2016

birthday: best time for existential panic, no?

but 1st: anonymous commenter on my previous post, wham dread? you must know me because the tiny handful who bother coming here do so because they do, plus, you nail my musical tastes; i love the track and wanna know who to thank and you not 1 of the 2 i assumed you'd be, so...big question mark!? talk to the i, nah...
that said, is apparently my birthday. seems the appropriate moment to try+archive the ongoing noise in my head that is my aforementioned constant state of existential terror, no? i say so. so here we go...
txt 1st: evolutionary argument against reality...then someting tha'd usually drive me bananas: videos, then closing with more reading...but this is the order that make sense. and small disclaimer: 1st 2 (very short) videos are technically covered in the following trilogy, but use examples not in the others that i wanted to archive, too; worth watching all, in order, none that long...





not quite the same, but for me, related concepts, identity+communication:

and finally, also related (for me, anyway): what cringing at your own voice says about you; not that i didn' already know the biology, but because this read brings self-awareness to the equation with identity+communication, plus, relief...i can kinna let go of my years of voiceover anxiety...kinna...
so. is my bday. now i going and wine low...
walk good.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

i offer this instead: https://socialfeed.info/perfectly-fused-bharatanatyam-popping-by-poonam-and-priyanka-4060301
and a very happy belated born day.

8:42 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

actually saw this the other day, but thank you, and for the bday wishes, too...and since i sure you know me, you must also know this does nothing for the anonymity issue...hmmmph...mwah. walk good.

9:46 am  

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Friday, August 26, 2016

plus a nex' post sooncome...

hear nah. the tabs ridiculous. just ridiculous. i have no excuse. so i not even going+play; in whaever order:
patricia smith's the 5 stages of drowning, because i keep going back to reread, still, again+again...
because in some ways, i really am a big nerd, the kind who wanna know other languages not for the ability to communicate with more people, but because i wanna read things in the language they're written and be my own "translator", and now, because i know 'bout this translation joust business and i wanna play!
another someting i simply enjoyed reading more than once, cleverly written throwback to my d.c. days, alexandra petri's the state of metro is a gothic nightmare.
story of the late, great ras shorty i, who i love as family as much as for his musical contribution...up there with tanker...
and some more oldschool trini, with angelo bissessarsingh's guide to rumshop-spotting.
dread. watch daft punk's aerodynamic played using just code!
and the boundless beauty of pi features some lovely visuals but best is that the piece includes linkage to the original pi day art maker's work, a sweet 1stop in a 1stop post...
because it useful as fuck, including video, courtesy the smithsonian, the difference between england, britain and the u.k.
because i need to be able to listen to charanjt singh's raga bhairav anytime, all the time...

and death's politicians in my eyes

and gorgeousness from san francisco ballet in forsythe project: 2016 pas parts excerpts, to end

Forsythe Project: 2016 Pas Parts Excerpts (San Francisco Ballet) from The Music Center on Vimeo.
ah lie! look a lagniappe, because the sweet ease of the [jerijah west]choreo+performance is real vibes...
https://igcdn-videos-e-0-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xat1/t50.2886-16/13894610_1762858120660560_67153053_n.mp4
walk good.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

check this: https://youtu.be/Gyh64A_lXhM
you need to know her.

8:12 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

anon, the track wicked (love the riddim) nd you clearly know me but i wanna know who to thank...tell me someting, nah...walk good.

1:07 pm  

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Monday, April 25, 2016

the plasticene age

not so much here, but i swear, i writing feverishly elsewhere; cyah remember if i say here, but i complete diablesse diaries 1st draft, revising already, excited still...which feels good in+of itself, to still be excited in this stage...
wha' really bring me here was thinking about this anthropocene epoch we might be already in (i inclined to think we are) that i think i wanna reference as the plasticene for script purposes, but now that i here i eh sure that i need to say anyting about it just yet, except for the delivered link...
so as i here i might as well archive some local hiphop, a mix my pardner jillionaire drop on sway in the morning show with some tracks i quite like, especially now discovering rock city; i'd buy a rock city album...
but them 2links archived, i actually kinna just wanna get back to diablesse diaries, so, ahm...i gone dey, yes...
more+better posting sooncome...and at least i making sure i doh go completely silent meanwhile; sign of my commitment...
make/art/wuk
write fresh
walk good.

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Sunday, March 27, 2016

random everywhere but inside my head...

gathering threads while others think they stringing me along; i know wha' i for, wha' i know to be true...so now i eliminate them who would be dangerous forces, revising diablesse diaries and getting back to some paying wuk while physio takes care of this ankle injury keeping me from dancing too damn many weeks now, lemme also get back to this space, 1st by clearing space, as always (with a brain full+noisy like mine it always necessary to cut+clear)...links to put down, thoughts to percolate; these 1st just because they delighted...[and hopefully i eh misquoting or misaccrediting; i admit to using the interwebs to pull some]
.what the french call a really bad thursday? trajeudi.
.motorcycle gang of ancient bisexual norse monarchs= the bikings.
.snobbish criminal going down stairs= condescending con descending.
.bought a friend an elephant for their room so when they said thanks i could say, don't mention it...
.when corals get stressed, they die. what does coral get stressed about? current events.
.why are blonde jokes so short? so men can remember them. this took an unexpected turn. not if you just asked for directions...

"the ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't" douglas adams
"the night sky hangs overhead like a sadist's boot, stretching out the moment of terror before it falls" glen cook
"above, the stars shone hard and bright, sparks struck off the dark skin of the universe" stephen king
"if you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you" oscar wilde
"and meanwhile time goes about its immemorial work of making everyone look and feel like shit" martin amis
"(read it as a warm, wet kiss but think of it as a play)" claes oldenburg
"i took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart; i am, i am, i am." sylvia plath
now this, because is a collection of gorgeous+striking but also because i do+will interpret shakespeare again...graphic designers take on shakespeare's show posters...
and because i cannot live by images alone, free junot diaz stories online!
and reminder of the creative impulse and carnival mandate to make+claim a space i inherit, as a person of this place...
useful tools; intending to link smallpdf permanently on sidebar, too.
more useful ting (and highly interesting, even if you have no apparent uses awaiting)- investigation of how people feel about+interact with lies+lying, what they find morally/socially acceptable+why...
and speaking of lying, mfa vs cia feels so much like what i imagine my experience in similar circumstances might be like (were i willing to give up green to access said experience) plus articulates some writery tings i been percolating...
and, this: this piece so i went home with a lesbian last night is how i feel about life, clearly put; dude is my new hero.
bonus! google doodles archive! maybe sidebar that, too...oooh! and in honour of such fun, i may never use emoji beyond "live long+prosper" but these vagina emoji too perfect...
more writing, less archiving, sooncome; as of now, outstanding archiving done.
walk good.

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Thursday, February 04, 2016

alla-we is 1 [later edited]

thought i woulda post about 3canal carnival2016's blkjab nation (or at least the experience of performing nightly in just charcoal and x's taped over my nipples...oh, plus the charcoaled ankle-bandage to support the fibres i tore in my ligament las' monday's run, that i shouldn' be walking, far less performing, on) but as per usual, being in it mean i eh stopping to write 'bout it.
i is a vengeful jab
a come-down+mash-up-the-town jab
a strike-down-all-inequity jab
smiter-of-all-ignorance jab
i is a vengeful jab
come-down+take-over-town jab
restoring-rights-to-the-wronged jab
blk jab-bless all jab...
that is all.
but this, i had to make sure+post before i lose linkage, this song+video trilogy by ghanaian blitz the ambassador, in reverse order 'cause i like it so; running, shine, juju girl:



walk good.

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Thursday, November 12, 2015

recovery process?

maybe my inner archivist will be how i get [sh]it done, because i didn' think this w/could happen and as fast as it is, i seeing how this urge advancing and will continue to push diablesse diaries [sooncome, my biglove]...
anyway, as ever, no ado nor order; lemme start with someting benefitting alla-we: freerice donates food everytime you answer correctly and seem to have science+humanities as well as the default vocabulary questions.
when thinking font, losttype@sidebar; bonus is this story about a local signpainter i wondering about for years, wondering if anybody else find he should be credited with designing a locally ubiquitous font, thrilled to see this happening...
while on resources, taino names for caribbean islands.
and a different kinna resource entirely, temporary (10minute), self-destructing email addresses!
different kinna destruction, no matter how many times i read[glasnost/anon] it...
different kinna amazing use of words/imagery in this graphic novel dissertation on the relationship between words+pictures and ways we construct knowledge.
musical research on we ting now, the roots of rapso; soundin' like weself...
and research/roots of [my]self: research tools+methods so you don't outsource your thinking, reminder that storytelling is everything! and because i live in constant existential terror, what makes you you? you are not your brain or your body...and because the existential-actual-crisis part of me is the writer who struggles with story and sometimes need reminding, this collection of txt remind me of editing the storyfountain but in the bes' way, because this stuff works better [inside joke; told you, is for me]:
1. When she tried to sing, it sounded like a walrus giving birth to farm equipment.
2. Her eyes twinkled, like the moustache of a man with a cold.
3. She was like a magnet: Attractive from the back, repulsive from the front.
4. The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
5. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room temperature Canadian beef.
6. She had him like a toenail stuck in a shag carpet.
7. The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.
8. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
9. Her eyes were like the stars, not because they twinkle, but because they were so far apart.
10. His career was blowing up like a man with a broken metal detector walking through an active minefield.
11. The sun was below the watery horizon, like a diabetic grandma easing into a warm salt bath.
12. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes at a 7:00 p.m. Instead of 7:30.
13. It was as easy as taking candy from a diabetic man who no longer wishes to eat candy.
14. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes before it throws up.
15. Their love burned with the fiery intensity of a urinary tract infection.
16. It's basically an illusion and no different than if I were to imagine something else, like Batman riding a flying toaster.
17. If it was any colder, it would be like being in a place that's a little colder than it is here.
18. Joy fills her heart like a silent but deadly fart fills a room with no windows.
19. The bird flew gracefully into the air like a man stepping on a landmine in zero gravity.
20. He felt confused. As confused as a homeless man on house arrest.
21. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.

write fresh.
walk good.

1 Comments:

Blogger Jake MacMillan said...

#1 and #2 are my favorites. Another one of my faves is "She gave me a look I could feel in my wallet." Chandler, I think.

5:01 pm  

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Monday, November 02, 2015

shift

loss changes you. and sometimes loss that seem minor from the outside is heartbreak.
i suddenly realise since i lose that huge collection of ting-to-archive i stop blogging. writing still, yes but not blogging, because i slightly scared to reach where i was before and lose big again; was done feeling like enough loss had come my way for a few years well...
invisible loss brings existential crisis; i read, i read writers, read writers reviewing writers, read, and write...and wish i felt like i think like them, write like them, like the "real writers"...i can truthfully say i am a dancer but is that only because of specific circumstances allowing for somebody who doh have all the things to be a dancer, to get away with doing so? because as much as i am idealist, i am realist, and i have long known i doh have all the things...
loss, this rounds, no matter what, must propel. forward progress. build on foundation i know strong: make/art/wuk. is all.
walk good.

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Wednesday, September 09, 2015

fokn bois present "coz ov moni"

allyuh know i always maintain i not of musicals because that spontaneous synchronised song+dance stretch my willing suspension of disbelief too much, but this one hadda add to my shortlist (alongside hedwig, orfeu negro, and some sondheim, about as far as i go); 2ghanaian rappers (M3NSA + wanlov the kubolor) in wha' they say is the 1st pidgin musical (plenty of which sound/feel plenty like trini...):

walk good.

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Monday, September 07, 2015

...and we go set yuh free

been awhile because i gong through it, again, but this is always me way, ent...but couldn' let this day go unmarked...
went+vote like i was going in the bank (or any other line-up i this damn place): carrying book+water+sweater for the wait-in-line; only to become the gyul holding up production with too much shit in she damn hand while they (in spite of me) move me quickly+effortlessly from station to station to verify my non-i.d.-having-arse and lemme vote+ride in 6minutes flat, including the time it take for 1lady to ask if i's a baddest when she watch my passport photo and me give her the story about being vex because the jackass man refusing to take my picture, talking 'bout, the beads in my hair[!] would apparently affect facial recognition [nevermind that the soon-to-expire passport i turned in to initiate process and several before it clearly acquired/renewed with said beads in place]...them so efficient today i end up telling the lady i feeling slight letdown by how unmomentous the moment was, oui...[to which my mother would steups+say, "look how yuh cyah please black people, eh..."]
walk good.

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Thursday, August 13, 2015

njoy now before even more gone...

recent times, i learning plenty. wasn' looking for alla this, least not right now when i have so much work i want to make and for a change, have the resources i want to make it, but so it go, so it come, life happens, loss happens, life keep on happening, ent...not loving that all recent losses coming large+unexpected, human+emotional+otherwise, but tha's the learning coming, ent? and i cyah say the losses eh (thankfully) punctuated by my being my kinna productive plus able to treat myself to said resources plus some fun, including an njoy11, at looong last (pun so very deeply intended, as was this double entendre...teehee) so i'ma go with: cyah complain; engaging lessons learned 1time.
1major loss was information. while resource-poor (machine issues felt neverending for longer than i care to remember) i was saving links+ideas i wanted to investigate+explore further when capabilities permitted in a draft post; by the time this machine reach this year it had already been at least 2 so i been working through the years+ collection simplest 1st, just to get ting basic-archived asap. until the other day i accidentally lose the entire ting.
so right now i eh saving-for-later again; tabs hadda close so look ting, with nobody to study, no particular order, rhyme, reason, or apologies for whaever anybody else might think un/worthy:
because i need to read later, the pnm draft policy statement plus the word manifesto to make sure locating it easy...
kei miller on plagiarism in poetry; looting in laventille; carelessness in the caribbean.
excellently useful writing advice from chuck palahniuk, plus 2more links to batches of his essays on craft!
also been thinking 'bout how the way people[+netflix] watch[+thus make] tv changing with the advent of binge-watching, and how storytelling evolving, and/or need to...
this i link in spite of not being impressed with the article, because i just want access to the sharpest and most diamond-crustedly-expensive [+beautiful?] knife in the world...
and wrap with a buncha [music, yay!]links i manage to re[dis]cover post-loss, all of which come with warning that the reason they eh post previously is, i prefer to go through each in entirety to see if it worth posting 1st and these need time i eh have yet, but i refuse to risk losing them before i can check for value and/or other possible coolness; so from the vault of wha' the macomere gimme, it have oldschool trinbago funk+disco plus some random not-soca, vice's oral history of dubstep and a herbie hancock tribute mix...someting in there bound to tickle the senses, ent...
walk good.

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Wednesday, August 12, 2015

fff#66

finally. and in spite of taking forever to start, i thoroughly enjoy writing this flash fiction friday #66; trigger: …last two [people] [pronoun] ever expect…

the 1st time stush jump in the old sunny with me she get shake. i could see it had never occur to her. but then, why would it? and since nobody know us before bois+biggie buss on the scene, nobody know the true connection, she woulda only hear my name+rank, and wha’ everybody else know, fresh legend: bois+biggie tight like evostick from 1st time anybody make we out on the block; we come out cool, come up deadly, take we territory the oldfashion way, and if anybody was surprised to find he the brains and me the brawn, them soon find that division of labour play surprisingly successfully to my strengths. and after the way i eh hesitate to handle markie with my 3line the day he try to oppose my bois up covigne road…
that wasn’ the [only?] las’ time I shake stush neither. me eh know where/when/how bois find she but she come in when it was real pace and we had to be too many places same time to always roll together like we was accustom. so he fucking it a few weeks well and i know all about it but never see the gyal in person yet, when he ask me to pick she up westmoorings and bring she down by we so he could handle a scene meanwhile and not lose out on the bull later. when she open the car door asking, “biggie?”, and see me, to her credit, she was savvy enough to not visibly jump; bois done say biggie’s he right+lefthand both and always go with biggie, and i answering to that name and driving this vehicle; she know to trust.
and then i, personally, make it my business to earn her trust from that moment on.
nobody had reason to suspect me making nice; everybody know bois is my eyeball and if he on she, then i for that. plus, i sure them fools figure i was glad to have another female around sometimes…nobody never know me+bois’ true true connection…
nobody knowing we’s brother+sister mean they cyah guess the true depth of our commitment. and nobody knowing we grow up so, but not actual blood siblings mean they cyah fathom how i really feel ‘bout that gyal. or how i feel when i realise my bois fucking the ganja farmer daughter when he go tortuga every month. and why i decide to sellout my brother, my heart.
when bois tell me ‘bout stush, wasn’ no pretense. we know from jump what between us stay in we bedroom alone and in public we cast as strictly bredrins so he, especially, hadda bull outside, too; stush, and whoever else, was necessary from time to time. but bois keep the country-bookie secret from me. every month he gone tortuga overnight for business, leaving me, right+lefthand-both, running tings smooth but the rest of fellas only running their mouth ‘bout the pleasures of the farmer teenage daughter, reputedly force-ripe+rosy, and bored with nothing to do in the bush besides get high and scheme how to keep her clueless father convinced of her long-lost virginity until she could find a town badjohn brave enough to snatch she and control of the farm. so when after some months stush get suspicious and ask, woman to woman…i deflect, then deny, hem+haw appropriately, and eventually, reluctantly, spill.
and this the 1time she ever shake me. just for a minute. i tell stush about the country-bookie and how long it going on expecting she to get vex 1time because i know she on some bougie true-love-monogamy shit, but the gyal only look vex for a split second, then get quiet. she stare at the dashboard for the longest few minutes, then turn+watch me straight in my eye and ask, cool cool, you think you could get in touch with her for me? so i eh show no face and just ask why, and stush is to tell me she studying to give bois a 3some for he birthday and figuring maybe bring out the country-bookie for a weekend…
well, i believe that for a hot minute, my bois get through…but then study if he really safe with this gyal…but then with my intents+purposes i could just use she set-up to execute my plan before hers get chance to come off…
i make the arrangement; use stush 3some idea to inveigle contacts for contacts for contacts who could get me the country-bookie without bois knowing and i went+see she meself. wanted to see if she know my name, know bois’ other half. she didn't. talking her into the weekend+3some was suckeye; she was seeking new shenanigans to indulge and wanted to test the father.
i bring them 2gyal to my bois, and before any of the3 could say surprise i step to bois, draw my 3line between them and show him, you see how bitches plot behind your back? is only me watching it for you, babes…
i turn back to stush and the country-bookie and almost down the 3line to reach for my phone because they suddenly, suddenly so beautiful standing there, the las’ 2people you ever expect clinging to each other, discovering impending death brings strangers closer than any 3some ever could…

walk good.

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Friday, July 31, 2015

flash fiction friday #66

inside the hour, at least; flash fiction friday #66 trigger: …last two [people] [i/she/etc.] ever expect…
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, structural challenges, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, song or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don't need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).you may join in at any time prior to deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whaever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there's a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines 'cause i'd rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read...if nobody fffs i'll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*
write fresh!
walk good.

1 Comments:

Blogger sweet trini said...

in+done@ http://urbanfolktales.blogspot.com/2015/08/fff66.html
walk good

12:06 pm  

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