flash fiction friday

it's that time again, so big up jj for the setup:

It was just a bad feeling... it meant nothing.
at least, that’s what i’ve been trying to convince myself since i followed, down the eerily-dark-passage to nobody-knows-where. but the nagging “you don’t know this person” followed by “was this wise?” wouldn’t let go.
usually, i listen to these voices. i figure they know better and are trying to help me out, so i should take advantage of the free assistance. but when you’ve officially made and signed your deal with the devil, those nudges can no longer be your guide. you’re on an alternate path with divergent rules.
so i kept following quietly.
down the twisty stone steps, my high hopes for what was below getting lower with each step down, i didn’t know if it was encouraging or creepy that the stairs were so worn, but hoped it was a sign that those who went down did come back up.
“is this necessary?”
“how else could we guarantee your presence when he came to claim his payment?”
that didn’t sound so much like i’d be back up. and besides, didn’t he have to give you your desire before claiming your soul? i’d thought a soul would be prerequisite in the fulfillment of a dream.
but here i was, headed down and suddenly scared.
when i first found the ‘we want your soul’ website i was sure it was just elaborate satire, so i took the test. i mean, somebody offering a quantitative quote on the monetary value of your soul- i had to take the test just to see what the criteria were- how could i not?
they asked some decent questions, and all in all, i found it highly entertaining. then i got my quote and started taking it all a little more seriously. i mean, to pay off student loans and mortgage…i had to consider it.
of course my sister said no. and i didn’t dare broach it with mom. and dad would’ve thought me silly, and a disappointment to his great expectations. but i couldn’t stop thinking about how vastly it could improve my lifestyle, and how i didn’t really believe in god anyway.
did i even have a soul? and if souls exist, do you have to believe to get one? if i were lacking that’d be their loss, because i wasn’t actually expecting to need one. and if i was wrong about the whole god thing, it’s not like i would’ve been let in anyway.
and it seemed that being soul-less would probably result in a more complete enjoyment of my new financial easement.
but still, i thought about it for a long time. even after 9 tattoos, selling my soul seemed such a permanent choice. and i’d been wrong before. and i still wasn’t sure of the extrication process…
still going down, i wondered if i was walking all the way to hell. that’d be proper punishment for a non-believer: sent to hell and an eternity getting there.
then, an unexpected end to the staircase, as presented by a door.
i knew i didn’t want to go in, but i didn’t see any other options and my guide looked very displeased at my hesitance.
i’m still trying to dismiss it as a meaningless bad feeling brought on by unfamiliar surroundings, as i wait in this dank, dungeon-like room and hope that’s not a hint of burning flesh in the air.

walk good.
ps: since i refuse to acknowledge daylight savings bullshit on my machine, this is the first post of the season where trini-time and dc-time are 1hour off...

egotrip

so immediately below is something i wrote and didn't post last friday night but my ego wouldn't let me let it go. so here it is, sloppy and irrelevant:
don't know how i manage to find myself even slightly thinking there might be a warm chance in the tight cold asshole of winter that my bathroom could be returned to me tomorrow, in the paid-down-on condition i requested, just in time for me to feverishly, sweatily-in-spite-of-the-cold-windows-closed-evening-into-night finish scrubbing it with my life just in time to make it down to crossroads to see machel and wine until i fall down in a coil on the floor.
but somehow, i have this stubborn twitch of hope.
so when next i blog i will be utterly despondent.
it's been 10 "working" days, and remember, this is the barely-42-square-feet bathroom, costing more than $100 per square foot to remodel.

there is a connection. that old post was about my ego, which is exactly what makes me leave the above, week-late statement intact.
moving on to the rest of my self-involvement, also several days behind the times:
my ego asserts itself again. we been begging alyfromcali to move back here for-ev-ah. she's finally doing it, coming here this weekend (for a trial bath in our unique bathroom and some job+apartment interviews), and it made me realise that me+grims been saying since we bought this house 3years ago, that in 5years, we out. now it's only 2years left. i know she's coming to be close to other people (and theatres) besides me, but i have ego, therefore i am- thus i guilt.

and day-before-yesterday:
i wade through puddles with impunity until stopped by the tragic sight of gummi worms carelessly spilled across the pavement.

now that i've got that outta my system, i can post what's on my mind currently.
this is the first time i've felt like i had downtime in too long.
can't wait for sunday, and i'm worried that the bathroom dudes coming to "finish" tomorrow will somehow ruin it.
i haven't read anybody's blog in long, including the last flash fiction entries (including mine) which makes me sad but simultaneously provides anticipatory thrill. i hope i can dig in on sunday, when i'll have 2weeks of reading. maybe i'll even manage an entry for the upcoming one, if the contractors find their brains soon enough to save my 1-day weekend.
zed learned to knit. i getting a hat with ear flaps that'll tie under my chin and a matching scarf. i lost both my scarves last winter, a sure sign that i should never live with that evil season- 2 more. can't wait for it to be over.
we saw the opening of rorschach's beard of avon with alyfromcali and i really had a good time and randy gave us our australia tickets.
i met author ernest gaines this week @ the radio station and that was cool, except for a vague feeling that the segment (which i prepped) was hijacked by the guest host, resulting in too much time spent on a lesson before dying which might be the favourite, but is kinda talked out at this point. i guess i'm officially invested in this work.
oh well.
i miss trinidad, even with tsunami-esque waves washing 'way maracas and bake+shark, and bombs in st.james. it's cold where i am and i don't like it.
i just tried something called 'cricket cola' and i love it. and easy-squeeze-no-drip bottles (caramel sauce+ketchup).
alyfromcali got a job offer, found an apartment she likes, gave her 2weeks notice, and moves back to dc in 3weeks.
i'm tired.
chrissy, i haven't forgotten or erased that email. i'll be back.
walk good.

ps: if anybody managed to read this post before i fixed the link fuckup and reinserted the appropriate text, i apologise. it's better now.

flash fiction almost-black-friday

rules and set up for #13 over @ purgatorian(jj), here's this week's (albeit slightly hasty, and i do apologise, but life gets in the way sometimes) effort:

With money in my pocket and a... grin to match the crescent above, i bounced along happily, so proud of myself for pulling it off. karma didn’t enter my thoughts- i was too busy with the thrill of my skill and success.
i should’ve noticed i was being followed, especially with that tightly-curled nouveau riche begging to climb out of its 5th-pocket holding cell, but my plans for it were tearing my mind from safety...
new home in a new country, paid in full. no need to look back, and no mortgage ruining the forward view either. i would take nothing and tell no-one.
with so much to consider, the woman catching up to me escaped my observation until she pulled up alongside and honked and waved me over. and maybe if she were less attractive i wouldn’t have stopped. but i suppose everything for a reason...
i pulled over and just barely cracked my window as she got out and walked back to me- no need to expose myself too hastily- and quick double-checked the wonderfully uncomfortable bulge poking into my hip.
she leaned over to the gap between the glass and metal and whispered,
“they took you.”
“what? and why are you whispering?”
“they’ll have sent somebody out to follow you home so if you find out it’s fake before they move off tonight, the tail can radio and tell them to cut out before you or the fuzz can make it back.”
“find out what’s fake?”
“when they cashed you out they gave you a roll, right?”
“right.”
“did you check it?”
“the guy counted it out in front of me…”
“then he reached down for the rubber band, right?”
“yeah.”
“and switched the wad in his hand for the fake bills below the counter.”
i couldn’t squeeze any words out of my suddenly-constricted throat so instead i shifted in my seat so i could finally free the roll that had been crying against its tight, dark quarters. by the time i unfolded it and looked up to ask her the best route to sneak back without the tail selling me out, she was pulling away fast.
i grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and called jerry.
“jer…”
“yeah, man.”
“business. you and the boys each grab your favourite pipe and meet me…”

walk good.

reveal?

so i realise that i'm rapidly losing anonymity.
when i started this blog i intentionally made it so i could be contacted, but my real name wasn't available on it. i keep most names in my chatter to first only so as not to implicate the innocent, and i think i've only referred to my gigs by pet names.
yes, i'm a tiny bit of a privacy freak, but just as a manifestation of my control freak-ness.
but as time passes i realise how easy it's become to attach a name (and face) to my originally-faceless prattle, and i'm trying to decide if i care- although, admittedly, it's far too late. but you know i couldn't just let it go without having an opinion.
it started with friends linking me using my real name. and it's cool because i never told them it wasn't- i wouldn't want my silly fetish to interfere with anybody's comfort zone of expression. i safe. and i figured people finding me that way prob'ly already knew me anyway.
but then i think i let a few things slip because i wasn't really paying attention, and i was planning to try and remedy that, but then this last trip to trini i gave up on that whole effort. my excitement actually beat back my paranoia.
not that it matters, like i said, i just couldn't let it pass me by.

and big-up nano for letting me know that if you start circling your right foot clockwise from the ankle, then try to draw a #6 in the air with your right hand, your foot can't keep circling clockwise...
act like yuh know!
walk good.

we fetein' whole night, fetein' whole day

aye allyuh!

T&T ignite near the end
13 October 2005
by FIFAworldcup.com

Trinidad and Tobago waited until the bitter end to show their class andbook a historic spot in the Germany 2006 play-off with Asian upstartsBahrain. Just one step from the glory of a debut appearance at a FIFAWorld Cup™ finals and becoming only the second Caribbean side to do sosince Jamaica in 1998, the islanders can take heart from the fact that they saved the best for last at the tail-end of their qualifying campaign.
Up and down throughout a consistently inconsistent final round of qualifying in North, Central America and the Caribbean, Leo Beenhakker'sarrival as coach in April 2005 seemed to settle a few nerves and see amore organised and disciplined side emerge than under former boss Bertille St Clair.
"We are a new T&T since he arrived," young striker Scott Sealy remarked after the arrival of the well-travelled, ultra-experienced Dutch trainer."
We play a different way now, more disciplined, more organised."
Beenhakker's tactics surely paid off for the tiny dual-island nation and its football-mad populace. After a crucial win over already eliminated Panama on Saturday 8 October, all the Soca Warriors needed was a win midweek to see them into fourth place and seal up the all-important play-off date with the fifth finisher from Asia. A simple enough task, but there was only one problem: they would be facing CONCACAF powers and historic giants Mexico.
Though the already-qualified Mexicans fielded a weaker-than-usual side, it was a still a large hill to climb – especially with Guatemala pushing T&Tfor that final place. Knowing only victory would ensure them the play-off berth, it looked like lights out when Jaime Lozano chipped home extravagantly to give Mexico the lead on 38 minutes.
And when Stern John saw his spot-kick saved, the fans in the packed Hasely Crawford stadium fell suddenly silent. Surely all in the ground could remember back to 1989, when in that very stadium and needing only a draw against the United Sates to qualify for Italy 1990, it all went so horribly wrong on the final day of qualifying.
But John, who remembers watching that game as a boy in 1989, would have none of it. Making amends for his earlier wasted chance from the spot, he scored a magnificent brace to see the islanders through. With celebrations going on in Port of Spain well into the night, Beenhakker and the boys will need to gather themselves soon and prepare for the two-legged play-off with Bahrain.
"The manner in which we fought during the whole game to turn the result around was amazing," the 63-year-old Beenhakker told a Mexican radio station on Thursday. "It was an historic win which has left the doors open for this little country to go to the World Cup."
The first leg will take place on 12 November in Port of Spain and the second four days later in Bahrain.

walk good.

this week's flash fiction friday

the last time i completed an fff piece this fast, it got panned, and i re-learned the value of editing, even for a piece that looks much to short to possibly need a word-dump.
but i really believe this one is ready, and even though grims didn't quite feel me the 1st time around, he agrees that this is improved. and i think it's done, so if i'm wrong, please be constructive.
as every friday, courtesy jj in purgatory:

The children are gone... and i can’t wait to play.
waiting for this moment was like waiting for the bus when you really have to pee and it’s freezing and windy and you’re underdressed and have to transfer to get where you’re going to pick up this 1 thing for your mom and then turn around and take those 2 buses all the way back home before your bladder can finally let go.
so now that i’ve allowed myself to go completely limp with that breath of release, i can pull myself together just enough to get set up to indulge.
i pour myself a larger-than-a-host-would jug of bug juice and ease on down the corridor to the bedroom, tanker’s “bassment party” buzzing happily in the back of my mind – not the wine, just anticipation, for now. i lose my chuck’s and collect slippers as i glide over, set down my glass, and dump my jersey on the bed.
my bug juice and i regroup and find the master bathroom, prepared late last night when i gratefully realised i’d have this time alone, and i feel the tingle in my toes, running up my body like static electricity. i make my feet slow down, trying to delay gratification for one more thrill of almost-not-yet-sooncome, but as they bring me to the blue, fuzzy-but-not-shaggy bathmat i find my breathing has already picked up their prior rapidity.
i pull back the seethrough plastic curtain glowing with the diffused aura of my delight, slip out of my slippers, and step in, one slow metatarsal at a time.
as i lower my ass into the inviting pool, i smile with gentle amusement at peach jell-o squishing up between my thighs.

walk good.

stuff an tings

big up spinning girl for directing me to some groovy touching. and for reminding me that sometimes you can just say what's circling in your mind like a flock of corbeaux without being pressed to string words together like decorative beads.
i'm sitting @ home wishing i didn't have to make an excursion to bathe. i've dreamt of tile for days now and still see none in my sad bathroom. i am prepared to kill, grind them up and dispose of their remains via the new pipes they're supposed to have installed.
i finally took this opportunity to reclaim the half-bath (realtor-speak for 2nd toilet) and was then embarassed about not cleaning it before people came over last sunday, because i'd assumed they'd all use the regular one upstairs (that's why it's being redone this week instead) but they apparently all thought we were having the bathroom done and the regular one was out of commission. so they all went downstairs.
i'd like to be on the same work schedule as grims sometimes.
i feel very radio station accomplished right now, but haven't learned my lines for my shakespeare gig yet. and we're apparently doing something for charles+camilla in november, so i need to get on it.
i don't think i should have to give up grass.
i did 3 things in primary school that i'm still ashamed of, and they, plus nku, are my only regrets.
i don't have regrets anymore because now i always know why i do something, even if i know nobody else will like it. and also because i'm not afraid to lock off people when i decide they aren't worth my time, even if it hurts their feelings.
there's more, but i must get our shower-shit together so i can take it and myself out to the car as soon as grims pulls up so we can go bathe without keeping people waiting up for us too late. just because we're being inconvenienced doesn't mean i want to inconvience friends trying to help us out.
walk good.

how bizarre

one thing i forgot to mention was the weird recognition as i was leaving trini. now, people always said me+zed (a.k.a. the gremlin) resemble bad, but i begged to differ until now, when i feel that i have been soundly disproved. (not that i let the person who accosted her in miami, thinking she was me, faze me in my denial, but this new incident was more serious.)
i was in piarco (airport) leaving trini, and the flight leaves @ 6am or something equally disgustingly early. the lilliput show'd been the night before, and from queens hall we went limin, trying to hear 12(theband), who we missed, of course, and i still haven't heard, and will have to settle for inhaling what i've been told is their amazing-ness over @ caribbeanfreeradio's 12 interview instead- but anyway, so we went limin, resulting in my getting home after 3.30am, when i needed to leave @ 5.30am. so basically, i took off my heels, drank some juice, packed my bags, lay down for less than a half-hour, didn't fall asleep (prob'ly for the best), put the heels back on, and left. didn't even change- went to the airport wearing what i'd worn onstage the night before- didn't bother to remove my contact lenses either...
so as i'm boarding the plane, darkers keeping my eyes (and most of my face) from betraying my condition, this dude in a ground-staff uniform says, "excuse me, are you zed's sister?" (except he called her full name). so i stop, surprised, and say,
"yeah. where you know her from?"
"school."
"what school?" and i'm expecting him to say "college", because we both went to an all-girls high school, but instead he says,
"happy vale montessori"
and i am floored.
"man, you tryin to tell me you went to montessori school with her and you remember her well enough to recognise me, who you don't even know, as her sister @ 6 o'clock in the morning, with half my face covered by darkers?! she musta made quite an impression on you! you know our mother works for the airline too, and is on my flight?"
and then it was old home week. he came on board and met mom (who's a purser) who promptly said the same thing i did about zed making an impression, but followed it by asking the poor boy if he needed friends.
lester took it in stride, which is the only way to take my mom (a.k.a. red ants, if that explains anything) and i was horrified the rest of the day by the sudden forced acceptance of our shared face.

in other news- and i'm making no effort to verify truth, just sharing this with you as a joke in the aftermath of my brazilian wax episode- got this from a friend, it isn't a literal epilogue to my wax story, but i hereby dedicate it to georgia, for being wonderfully appalled in the past, and the lovely chrissy, as a promise of things to come:
"all hair removal methods have tricked us with their promises of easy, painless removal- the epilady, scissors, razors, nair and now...easy wax. my night began as any other normal weekday night. come home fix dinner, played with the kids. i then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: maybe i should pull the wax out of the medicine cabinet. so i headed to the site of my demise; the bathroom. it was one of those new cold wax kits. no melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand and then they get warm and you peel them apart, press it to your leg (or wherever else) and hair comes right off. no muss, no fuss. hey, how hard can it be? i mean i'm no girly-girl but i am mechanically inclined enough that i can figure it out. *YA THINK!!!* so i pull one of the thin strips out. it's two strips facing each other stuck together. instead of rubbing them together, i get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. cold wax my rear end!! (oh, how this phrase haunts me!) i lay the strip across my thigh. hold the skin around it tight and pull. ok, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. i can do this! hair removal no longer eludes me! i am she-ra, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire.with my next wax strip i move north. after checking on the kids, i sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. i drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. using the same procedure i apply the wax strip across the right side of bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (yes, it was a long strip). i inhale deeply and brace myself. RRRRIIIPPP!!!! i'm blind!!! blinded from pain!!!!.... OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! vision returning, i notice that i've only managed to pull off half of the strip. &^^%$S&%T!!! another deep breath and RRIIPP. everything is swirly and spotted. do i hear crashing drums??? ok, back to normal. i want to see my trophy- a wax covered strip with my hairy pelt that has caused me so much pain sticking to it. i want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. i hold up the strip! there's no hair on it. where is the hair? WHERE IS THE WAX??? slowly i ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. i see the hair. the hair that should be on the strip. i touch. i am touching wax. i run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. then i make the next BIG MISTAKE...... remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet. i know i need to do something. so i put my foot down. ######!!!!!!!! i hear the slamming of the cell door. vagina? sealed shut. butt?? sealed shut. i penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "please don't let me get the urge to poop. my head may pop off!" hot water!! hot water melts wax!! i'll run the hottest water i can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax covered bits and the wax should melt and i can gently wipe it off right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!* i get in the tub- the water is slightly hotter than that used totorture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment- i sit. now, the only thing worse that having your nether businesses glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub. in scalding hot water, which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. so, now i'm stuck to the bottom of the tub!! god bless the man that convinced me i should have a phone in thebathroom!!!!! i call my friend thinking surely she's waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. it's a very good conversation starter. "so, my butt and who-ha are stuck to the bottom of the tub!" there is a slight pause. she doesn't have a secret trick but does try to hide the laughter from me. she wants to know exactly where the wax is located on bottom. "are we talking cheeks or hole or what?" she's laughing out loud by now... i can hear her. i give her the rundown and she suggests i call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! right!! i should be the joke of someone else's night. while we go through various solutions. i resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and THEN dryshaving the sticky wax off!! by now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and i slip into glazed donut land. my friend is still talking with me and my hand reaches towards the saving grace.... the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. what do i really have to lose at this point. i rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! the scream probably woke the kids, scared the dickens out of my friend, but i really don't care. "IT WORKS!! it works!! i get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. i successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair ............ THE HAIR IS STILL THERE ...... ALL OF IT!!!!!!! so i shaved it off. heck, i'm numb at this point."

hope you laughed. walk good.

at last...

alright. so i'm finally here to do the deed. catching up tonight.
i got home and had no water to wash the dishes because the dudes working on the bathroom, but at this point i'm just so fucking glad it's getting done...
grims wukkin' until later and i think i have enough time to blog and do the dishes before he gets here to take me off to covey+ganz's to bathe.
so, since we on the topic, i'll start with the bathroom drama.
i was busy enough getting it together before i left for trini that i don't even remember if i had time to blog about how much i had to do to get everything in place so the bathroom could be remodeled while i was in trini and grims @ his gig in chesapeake so it wouldn't matter that nobody could bathe here for 3 days. i ran my ass ragged and had to drag poor grims along for post-work excursions too- is the first time we paying somebody to come in and redo an entire room for us, ceiling to floor, and i had no idea how much more there is to organise when you have to organise it all in advance. we usually decide what cabinet handles we want after we install the cabinets and realise we need handles...
we ran crazy, got estimates, chose a contractor, chose floor tile, wall tile, tp holder, towel rack, pedestal sink, toilet, medicine cabinet, over-toilet-cabinet, ceiling colour, wall colour, 2 light fixtures, tub faucets+showerhead, etc.
i gave the man my keys and $ and went off to trini, knowing that grims'd go to chesapeake on monday and return thursday night to a nice new bathroom, then pick me up on saturday and take me home to bathe together in our nice new bathroom, no longer like bathing in a condom.
instead, grims called the man wednesday to check in before his return, and the man called back thursday to say, "we haven't started yet".
i will not try to recreate my mental scream upon hearing this news in trini.
the excuse seemed valid- head crew dude had a heart attack- but why the fuck did our man not call and say something since monday when they didn't start?
so we both return, and i tell the man that grims' b'day business was this past weekend, so they needed to start bright and early last monday morning and be done by last friday evening- the bathroom is, after all, only about 45 square feet- and the man is to tell me he can't guarantee it'll be done by friday evening. so i say, is there even a slim chance that i could not have a working toilet when the guests arrive (yesterday)? and the man said yes, so of course, we had to wait until this morning to start the shit to ensure that people could drain their alcohol reservoirs in comfort (yesterday). and this week is a much bigger inconvenience for us to not have a bathroom than last week woulda been, but without the flush-by-weekend guarantee...

onto other things- i had the good fortune to stopover in barbados for 2days on my way to trini to see an old friend (dani) and her new house. we yakked nonstop from the time she picked me up @ (the new) grantley adams int'l, until she dropped me back. it was the best. until the subsequent friday night, half-hour before curtain, when my face that i'd previously considered too black for sunburn, started peeling. i managed to make it pass muster for the night, but between b'dos beach and maracas bay in trini, when i got back to dc, my shoulders peeled so bad the skin made a noise as it came off like rice paper- which might mean it was for the best i didn't get new ink.
trini and b'dos sweet as ever- me+nico hit maracas early one morning after nearly getting killed because neither of us realised that the road going into maraval off the savannah is now one-way during rush hour, we ate doubles by george-x, limed with the canals and cheewah, and i had nuff curry goat roti and royal extra stout. and seeing dani after nearly 10years and being back in trini with nico after about 8 was the best. the only lame part was grims not being there- and to add to that lameness, when he not in my bed insomnia returns with a vengeance, so i didn't sleep for shit the whole week, and crashed+burned when i got back saturday instead of making it out for knol's b'day.
but say wha'- it was well worth it.
if you didn't vibes the link previously, my boy nicholai has been developing music for some time now, and finally decided to let us in, so his shit-hot debut album is available to download (free) @ honeythedogmusic.com and i especially recommend army of one and reasonin, although it's all good.
and since we were home for the 30th anniversary celebration+gala of lilliput theatre (which brought us together as best friends, and to the work we both love) caribbeanfreeradio (big up georgia) interviewed us about lilliput, my shakespeare gig and blog, and nico's music (with some of his tracks played during the podcast, including the 2 i just recommended) and work in london. it was fun and the picture's even funnier...
we both also got interviewed by dave after the lilliput gig, but that was for local tv and i don't have any other info, except that dave's a cool dude and amazing artist trying to bring something about art, other than celebrity bullshit, to an audience.
i was gonna talk about the beheading video i recently saw, but have decided i no longer wish to think on that...
i want to talk about the lilliput gig, but it's a little mental for me still, so more on that and aunty noble later.
also coming later (haven't had time to do any research yet) is anything i dig up about a new gravitational theory being posited by a trini that may be under consideration...and in the meanwhile, i recommend "coincidences, chaos and all that math jazz: making light of weighty ideas" by edward b. burger and michael starbird. i prepped it for today's radio segment (2nd hour) and it was much fun. and they invented a game they call "infinite dodgeball" (no actual ball, it's on paper) that's the clearest demonstration of how there can be an infinity bigger than infinity i've come across to date, and explain why the weather forecast just doesn't go as far into the future as i'd like...
also sooncome, review of the 3canal album jab jab say (from the 2005 show jab in de box).
alright. grims just called to say he on his way, so i need to go gather up my shower shit. and no, i didn't get the dishes done.
walk good.

fff, post-grims' b'day

so perhaps the weekend grims celebrated 30 wasn't the best one to try a stylistic exercise, knowing i'd be pressed for time. but this is how it came to me, so stylistic trial it is.
i recommend a deep breath before reading, and if it didn't work out, oh well. sorry.
here's my attempt @ this week's flash fiction friday, courtesy jj in purgatory.

Loping along through the moonlight...
the words come unbidden to my mind as i watch him roll by in the slo-mo replay in my head where he’s dressed a little snappier or cooler or smoother or whatever and i’m cuter sexier more laissez-faire mysterious and of course it’s romantically night time so we can be outlined in those skinny auras like we so perfect not real people at all like we are in the world outside my brain in the middle of the day hot sun blazing and me not wearing something i set out to ever be seen in because i just thought i was running to the grocery down the road to get that can of pigeon peas for mummy to make the pelau she promised me when i said i would come home for christmas and stay to help her
and as i bend down and pick up the can from the low shelf and stand back up and shift my ass cheeks in the hopes of dislodging that wedgie without having to do the obvious in the middle of the aisle he pass and catch me holding the peas and wearing the wedgie discomfort face that nobody but family supposed to see instead of the tiara he shoulda make sure was in place when he rounds that corner to finally discover me waiting knowingly

walk good.

sorry nico...

ok. i know i said after making the list i'd actually post about stuff, but when i got home from work yesterday, blogger was being a bitch and wouldn't let me log on to post. so i had to be lame again.
but assuming i can get in this evening (@ the radio station now, presumably wukkin' hard) i'll finally get some shit writ.
i also forgot to mention b'dos and now my wicked bad sunburn on that list...
hopefully more tonight.
walk good.

catch-up, kinda, a start...

so before i delve into this post i'm gonna make a list (mostly for myself, not you, because you prob'ly won't care) of shit i wanted to mention because it's late and covey's coming over, so i may be distracted, then fall into bed and forget where i left off. so i'm all about:
my trip to trini
the lilliput show and aunty noble
nico's album
being interviewed (actually twice, unexpectedly)
reviewing 3canal's jab jab say
not sleeping
the beach
nico
missing grims but missing trini
the bathroom not getting remodeled
infinity that's bigger than infinity
a possible new gravitational theory posited by a trini
beheading

covey just arrived, so i'm out. thank goodness i made the list.
walk good.

quickie

so i was up ridiculously early and wanted to take the opportunity to blog about trini and the show and nico and being interviewed on caribbean free radio and still not seeing 12 and everything, but blogger's a bitch and moving too slow this morning, so instead, i pledge to finally post about the whole shebang this evening when i return from the radio station.
i spent saturday night and sunday-post-shakespeare-rehearsal recovering, then was back @ the radio station as of yesterday morning, and found myself still exhausted after work and the grocery last night. but today, after work i should have nothing doing, unless the dude finally comes to redo my bathroom- that's right, it didn't get done while i was in trini like it was supposed to, and i'm very fucking angry, but more when i post later.
in the meanwhile, nico, i'm sorry. i'm lame. more sooncome.
walk good.

tired, post-trini fff

so i got back from trinbago on saturday and crashed and burned and missed knol's b'day because i was exhausted, but late last night and this morning i had to try because i missed last week's (fff#9, with storm) due to my trip...
so it's rough, but it's here, set up by jj, over in purgatory:

“I had no idea that’s where that goes.”
“well you’ll be no help at all if you don’t even know that much.”
she’s right, of course, which is why i’m making conversation, rather than an effort to assist in the installation of the new plutonium breakout. i’m wisely leaving that to the expert (and at this juncture, i hope for her expertise even more than she does).
i’m still not sure why she thinks i should be a part of this, but then, nothing about our association thus far has been what i’d call ordinary.
we met while simultaneously chickening out of hot-air-balloon rides (stranger the longer i know her)- her husband and my wife, respectively, apparently had had lesser expectations of our respective desires to stay alive, and unexpectedly found themselves flying away together while we waved tinily and with relief from the ground- and found ourselves kissing madly by the time our spouses returned.
this illegal kissing wasn’t on anybody’s itinerary for the day, and we were all somewhat taken aback, but it was obvious that something had to be done.
brief explanations were made, more satisfactorily from the perspective of the kissing parties, i’m sure, and we were off. some might say we were hasty, but there was no going back from whence we’d come.
since taking off together, in the 2 weeks i’ve spent in her company we haven’t had what i’d call a normal or quiet day. she’s both addictive and exhausting and it seems i’m chasing her dragon without a single lingering look back.
but over the past 3 days things have turned scientific on me, as i find myself subjected to endless testing of a device that she claims sends me time-traveling, but which merely makes me temporarily invisible, during which time she thinks i see other eras but can’t bring the memories back with my body, and i simply visit her bedroom and go through her diary and other personal items. the tingling that accompanies my return to visibility helps a lot with my not ruining my secret window into her brain. and after 3 days of snooping, i’m aware that i need to remove myself from the current situation, since it’s apparent that she has no idea what she’s doing. and i don’t dare tell the truth about becoming invisible, for fear she’ll want to do more experimenting along those lines and not be able to bring me back after messing with her various variables.
so while she installs this plutonium breakout thing (and really, shouldn’t they teach children in school not to play with plutonium? isn’t it one of the more dangerous elements of the periodic table?) i’m patiently awaiting my next and last invisible episode so i can slide out the door while she paces and waits for my return from 1492 (her idea, not mine). while i might miss the possibilities that invisibility affords me, i’d rather be alive than a victim of some faulty calculation on her part, since it appears that she is indeed, crazy.
as i stand here now, preparing myself for my silent departure, i feel oddly like i should at least leave a note, to say i’m running off.
i find myself telling her i’ll be right back (because i’m not sure if i’ll be invisible long enough to write a note and make it out the door) and heading to the bathroom, where i empty my pockets and find half a green crayon, some loose change, a slightly used tissue (crunchy in one corner), a grocery list that i hope my wife had been able to remember, a lipstick i hope she hadn’t needed, and the blank back page of the diary i’ve been reading.
i’d use the lipstick on the bathroom mirror, except i think it’d be weird, because any woman would instantly know whether it was her lipstick or not, and you’re supposed to use the lipstick of the homeowner in these cases, aren’t you? and besides, what if she has to pee before i get in the invisibility/faux-time-machine?
ok. so green crayon butt it is then:
“dear satya, i’ve enjoyed our time together- the tiger episode, the hash, the dead sea, your grandmother- but i really must go. i realise that running out on my wife with so little explanation was wrong and unfair, and i should at least go back to allow her to shout at me properly, now that the shock has worn off. thank you for allowing me to take part in your experiments, but i think you should try 1492 yourself- columbus was never my favourite part of world history. maybe we’ll see each other again in the future. sincerely, duane.”
beautifully timed- i hear the hum of the machine, so she’ll be calling me any second now...

walk good.