Friday, March 31, 2006

...fries with that?

so within 24hours of hearing about the genetically engineered "healthier" bacon, i read that elsewhere in america, they've already engineered low-carb potatoes as a side...
guess you're in luck, jj...and i won't mess with whatever's keeping you around.
walk good.

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Thursday, March 30, 2006

engineering bacon?

so i was watching jon stewart last night (yes, even after his betrayal, because who else is there to watch?) and he brought up the fact that american scientists are genetically engineering pigs to produce the fatty acids that are supposed to be healthier for human consumption (usually found in quantity in fish) than what pigs're naturally endowed with.
somehow, it doesn't surprise me that america, rather than moderating intake of bacon, ham, and other delicious pork products and actually trying to eat a balanced diet, would simply decide it's easier to genetically alter the pigs to provide the obese masses with healthier bacon.
eat right.
walk good.

4 Comments:

Blogger Christopher said...

also why don't people just eat more fish? when i found out that the omega-3 fatty acids could be gotten from fish oils, i resolved to eat more fish. This is overengineering for a population with fish phobia. If you don't like fish just take the fish oil capsules.

2:50 pm  
Blogger JJ said...

Speaking for the Society of Guys Who Have Recently Had a Heart Attack, I would like to say that if it means I could have bacon again, they can play all they want in God's domain.

Hi, Trini! Missed you. I got lost.

3:15 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

i been missing you too...
walk good.

10:27 pm  
Anonymous zed aka ( only by my sister ) gremlin said...

speaking of obese - i read in the free lite standard, free and early shortened version of the evening standard, that they have to overhaul all the ambulances in i think some town in texas and make new ones with wider and stonger equipment for lifting patients due to the fact that in the past month they made calls to 75 people who are obese.....sad...

7:17 pm  

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Tuesday, March 28, 2006

pirate porrrn: rated arrr?

big up jake, to whom i'm eternally grateful for providing me with the opportunity to see 2hours+7minutes of something i otherwise prob'ly wouldn'ta...
pirates!
features full opening credits and an original swashbuckling score. promising @ the outset, starting ironically with some pirate ho getting dressed to begin the 1st sex scene- i'm sorry, she wasn't a ho yet, that 1st scene was between her and her recently acquired husband.
they were both lame and her boob job was atrocious- apparently a theme in this movie- plus, i'm not sure that condoms are historically correct, unless they're sheepskin...
now here's the thing about pirates!: it comes complete with grizzled dudes, far too old and just so excited that they're anywhere near a porno @ this stage in their lives that they're even attempting accents and (necessarily short) bad swordfights; it comes complete with a legless tattooed assassin and multiple multiply tattooed lusty wenches in cleavage-amplifying corsets; it comes complete with a wannabe glass eye (which then proved to be a contact lens that moved in conjunction with the "good" eye throughout the movie, just like a real glass eye wouldn't); it comes complete with men wearing ruffled shirts and rings on all fingers and thumbs and with teeth that suggest scurvy, a pirate's wife wearing a pearl necklace for a little symbolism, and an asian dude to train the pirates in the use of gunpowder and cannons. and "shiver me timbers" and "ahoy/avast matey" were said, more than once each.
however, as a pirate flick, the skeleton scene was too short and uninvolved, and the movie completely lacked parrots, peglegs and hooks-for-hands.
as a porno, there were only 2 sex scenes in the 1st 37minutes, no fucking-with-peglegs at all, no advantage taken of the skeleton 'bones', and the only guy who warranted the "captain hook" moniker (who looked like vincent dinofrio with eyeliner) didn't have a hook-for-hand; as grims said of his hook, he could cum on his own face (is there a reason for "cum" being spelled this way in this context? oxford dictionary says it's a preposition meaning with, together with, also used as: eg. bedroom-cum-study, which is a very apropos eg., but oxford doesn't include the ejaculatory meaning, and it couldn't be for prudishness, since "cunt" is lower down the same page) but we figure dinofrio-with-eyeliner got cast 'cause he cums like a cannon.
pirates! dialogue included lines like, "when the time comes we'll do what the doing needs done," (followed by the slicing of throats), and following a cumshot in a church, the pirate hunter said, "i'm the greatest pirate hunter in the world!" which the 2 bad boob jobs repeated, in chorus. and no, that was not the conclusion of a mentionworthy menage-a-trois because it was more like regular heterosex, with a bad boob job occasionally playing with herself on the side. and the dude in the scene felt it necessary to comment on how good he looked (i disagreed) in his ridiculously-ruffled pirate shirt (disguise for pirate-hunting, i presume) and kept blowing his long hair off his forehead like the little mermaid does when she's sitting on the big rock.
i was, however, later amused by lines like, "you have forgotten the most important passion. lust. without that you are nothing. lick it!" (and that dude, for having a relatively small package, delivered on time), and even later, "rid me of her scurvy vagina!" and after a cannon battle on board, some dude said, "i think i shit in my pants".
in my opinion, jesse jane is lame and unsexy with her bad boob job, as is (again, for me) the expression "choke on it". also unsexy was the large number of cleft chins in this movie, men+women's alike. plus the inclusion of random asian dude, i thought, made room for a pirates+ninjas scene, an opportunity director "joone" wasted.
now this is not an overall pong. there were several points of interest:
1. i'd never watched a sex scene go down in a burning building- jake pointed out the implication that the blowjob was good enough to die for, but all i could think about was what a singed scrotum must feel like, since it was dangling low enough to make me believe the fire in the room was real...
2. watching the hair-shaped-heart on some chick's snatch made me wonder whether a brazilian (or any other) wax would be period either (responses from those who know, please), and then we were entertained by some bad boob job whose wax missed one extremely long (at least an inch) blonde hair that seemed to have a life of its own in her sex scene.
3. pirates, at least the ones in porn, greet wenches by shaking their breasts instead of hands.
4. girl-on-girl scenes were straight-up violent (not my style, but noteworthy), including lusty wenches bitchslapping, breastspanking, and spitting on each other (not spit-on-the-snatch-for-germy-lubrication, but spitting at each other's faces and shit).
5. even in pirate porn, wenches keep their shoes on while otherwise naked. ugly boots, in this case...
6. in pirate porn, the clothing magically disappears, literally, maybe because the "talent" isn't capable of gracefully or rough+sexily untying and unbuckling the elaborate costumes...
7. the finale- another violent lesbian scene, but it involved something i've never seen before and prob'ly never will again- double penetration with lit candles...
i'll leave that to your imagination, but yes, the lit ends were sticking out, not in...
walk good.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

it was fu the chinese dude who said he shit his pants after setting off a cannon shot large enough to rip the other ship in two like the titanic. Just thought you might like the clarification.

Grims

9:04 pm  
Anonymous Castle Megastore said...

I'm imaging every actions in your story and damn, makes me feel like ahh I wanna fuck.haha That said, it would be great to use adult sex toys to add pleasure and romance.

9:51 am  
Anonymous B Swish said...

When they shake their boobs instead of shaking their hands to greet you. LOL That's a clear intention that they want to have sex on you.

10:34 pm  

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Sunday, March 26, 2006

is flash fiction time again, carnival time again...

revisiting a voice not often heard for flash fiction friday, because this one is actually a combination of several real experiences, so this was the only voice.
big up jj for providing trigger and impetus.
i also realised while writing this, that when i posted my carnival flash fiction friday piece i didn't tell those who may not know me that well that there's a trini dictionary or 2 on my sidebar if you need assistance with the parlance.

In the purple and gray morning... i pause by the cemetery and look up @ the brightening sky, then at myself, also on the verge of illumination in blue, silver and white paint. i smile and jump back in the band as they start chippin’ down the road. i chippin’ too, smiling to myself, smiling at them boys up on the truck.
thinking about how life good sometimes. so good you can’t remember why you was feelin’ blue the other day in the first place and you inspired again. i was feeling the way i felt back when we shot the video for the tune carrying and cushioning our feet now after hours on the road.
and as i just enjoying jouvay and enjoying enjoying myself again after so much time, i start to feel shitty. can’t breathe, feeling that frightening, tightening pressure on my lungs, squeezing until i can’t enjoy the jump no more.
tell my boy i need to siddown. paint truck. he and the crew half-lift, half-drag, half-push me up into it. i siddown, slightly relieved now, try to balance my roundly complimented ass on the too-skinny rim of the tray. hang my chin against my chest. and breathe, deep as i can.
start to feel a little better just as we finish cross the savannah stage, but like a traitor too, for riding over it in a fraction of the time instead of wining slowly across, milking every moment onstage but safely off-camera.
consider getting down and rejoining the revelry, but decide to wait until we reach the mas camp and make the most of the final jump.
i ride back, and wait long enough to lose momentum before the band come down the road. feeling like it was good while it lasted, but wasted. but then i look up and finally see the hordes in blue+silver+white roundin’ the corner with the rhythm section – take ten thousand to bar me one…i jump up and find the crew for the wine down and make the most of the rest.
of course we was the last stragglers in the yard when the sun bounce the rest of the way up into the sky, waiting for them boys so we could take a dip down macqueripe.
then as i getting in the truck, last, i see a small man holding daddy hand for dear life and staring at me, the only sign of jouvay still exposed, and realise i about to be somebody first ever blue devil. so i better make it count, sick or no sick.
i let my head turn the rest of my body towards the boy, reach out a claw and hiss,
“o-lay-o-lambe! gimme a copper…”
he dress back in horror, adrenalin-rush of fear almost taking daddy with him. daddy smile and wink at me and scoop up small man, asking him,
“you ‘fraid the devil?”
i switch my tail at them and spin and dive into the tray when i hear colin mash gas, pleased at participating in tradition.
we come back from the beach salty and mostly unpainted, and find my clothes locked in the office. the boys roll me into one of them 5-foot-tall spools of red cloth and i’m dressed with a long cut and a quick tuck.

i step outside for lunch and am blinded, even behind my darkers. i remember my hair, saturated in silver paint, shining in the mirror when i washed off the sea.
now both me and the sky at maximum brightness.


walk good.
ps: pirate porn review sooncome.
pps: weird thing- today i was organising and searched purgatorian for "flash fiction" to check my chronology. jj's fff #26 setup on friday february 24 2006 is listed in the (abovelinked) search results as having been posted on friday february 27 2006, although there was no friday february 27 in 2006. and when you click on the link, it takes you to the correct post, bearing the correct date of friday february 24- so what little error makes it come up with a wrong and nonexistent date?

4 Comments:

Blogger Trinifood said...

Ah feel like ah was in Trini dere.
Listen, I like how yuh teach yuh husband could steups and ting but why oh why is he a Spurs fan?? Ha!!
Take care and WALK GOOD!

4:45 pm  
Blogger James said...

Very vivid and fun. I think I'm starting to get the hang of your dialect now.

Good stuff.

11:21 pm  
Blogger justacoolcat said...

What a great glimpse into carnival. I felt like I was there.

12:25 am  
Blogger JJ said...

That was beautiful. If you get an extra moment, could you send me maybe an email that tells more about the tradition you described? At first I was thinking it was like the funeral marchers I used to see in New Orleans, but it's something else, isn't it? A festival of some kind? Forgive me for being dense and provincial.

2:05 pm  

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Friday, March 24, 2006

since you asked...

i not sure why seepoy. i think it was just a chinee-esque designation without having to go with wong. especially since something like wong wouldn't really be funny, due to the relatively large number of wongs in trinbago. nobody would get that it was a joke and not his actual name. half our wongs don't even look like wongs, so who would doubt his wong-ness? and even seepoy is better than his son getting stuck with alpacino...
but there's a whole name thing anyway: basil's family started out as ho's. and when the first ho came to trini on the boat and officials asked him his name, he didn't speak english and couldn't respond, so they just renamed him smith (john, i believe). my grandmother's maiden name was kondika (her parents were indian missionaries- i think- who came over as young adults) and my mom never forgave her for trading in kondika for something as lame as smith. but coming from smiths, i feel relatively confident, with full knowledge of how many people there are on this planet, that nobody else carries the same 3 names i do. when i was younger and hadn't realised the beauty of non-conformity, i actually didn't like it much, because i spent too much time repeating my name and its spelling for people who'd never heard it before. it felt like a burden. to date, i've only met 2 other people with the same 1st name. my middle name is my fanti day name (father's from ghana), and my last is a european slave owner's name bestowed up some bastard child. my mother only calls me by my 1st name and my father only by my middle name (he said my 1st name once, in my late teens, and it sounded funny so i asked him never to do it again). i can't even pronounce my middle name quite right because my dad's ghanaian with a slight british accent when speaking english, and i was born+raised in trini, so we don't have the same accent. i never tell americans my middle name because inevitably, they try to repeat it, which becomes a trini trying to teach an american to say a fanti word. it gets ugly and i can't stand to hear it.
and now that i think about it, i can think of a coupla friends (just a couple), all trini, who have very unique name combinations, partially because in trinbago so many ethnicities mix, joining together 1st and last names that barely know of each other's existence in the wider world and never come into contact, making new people who look nothing like any of their names (ent, keif)...

anyway, i actually came here to say something else, but i read jj's comment and it set my brain running.
what i initially came to say is: jon stewart disappointed me for the 1st time last night, and i'm heartbroken.
he had this dude on talking about his book (goliath-related title, can't remember the author because i got too upset) who was basically saying that america's the world's goliath and that even when other countries complain about america's tactics/policies, they still support the ends if not the means because if they didn't like america's agenda, they'd all get together and gang up on america to stop it. and i was stunned that jon stewart, who i'd previously loved so passionately, went along, and never pointed out to this dumb dude that many of the countries who do disagree with america's everything are smaller, less developed countries who fear for resources and infrastructure like trade agreements, or simply fear the wrath of goliath and possible political blackmail. grrr! how could you forget us, jon?
then stephen colbert followed by opening his show with that song "this land is your land, this land is my land, this land is made for you+me", which was, of course, in his usual satirical vein, but that song pisses me off so fucking much! this land was not fucking made for them! they stole this blighted continent!
breathe.
alright. i have to bathe now, before my head explodes.
the jon stewart betrayal just re-upset me in a way i did not expect, and i plan to have a good friday night, so i bathing and heading out to lime and possibly fete after.
walk good.

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Thursday, March 23, 2006

zoom

the first job i ever got paid for was a commercial for a local clothing line, and we got paid in clothing. it was the 80's, so while my compensation seemed very stylish @ the time, in retrospect, it was hideous. the sad truth is, however, that the person i am will not allow me to get rid of the hideous, oversized, pastel+flourescent jersey. i haven't worn it in more than 15 years, and never will again. but it's in my closet. as much as i'd like to, i am unable to part with this sorry item of clothing.
i only wish the work-related dilemmas i face these days were as harmless, or even as easily acceptable.
the past few days @ the radio station were an exercise in duality. i prepped 2 (celebrity)segments, the previously mentioned anna deavere smith piece, and another on tony hendra.
now, i admit that i didn't realise who tony hendra was until i started the prep- we having him on air about his new novel, the messiah of morris avenue- but as soon as i looked @ his photo+bio, i recognised him. he played ian faith, the band manager in this is spinal tap.
needless to say, the assignment started looking like a lot more fun @ that point. he went to school and performed with john cleese+co. pre-monthy-python, contributed to saturday night live, edited national lampoon and spy, etc.
but just as i started to enjoy it, i read about his previous book, a memoir called father joe, about the monk who "saved his soul". it was apparently a spiritual confession of his drugs+debauchery days in the 70's+80's, crediting father joe for bringing him out alive and a better person.
sound good?
problem is that when father joe was published, hendra's daughter jessica very publicly (like in the new york times and then in her retaliatory book, publicly) and in indelicate detail, accused him of not confessing to his greatest sin, of sexually abusing her as a child. he, of course, denies it.
the statute of limitations on the alleged child molestation/incest has long expired, so there is no chance that this situation will be resolved before he's on the show, so i was left with the dilemma: softball it (which no self-respecting journalist wants) and try to ignore the elephant in the room, knowing that since the show involves listener call-ins, it'll be brought up anyway, or try to delicately address it head-on so that it can't sneak up on our host...
of course, the managing producer, who would make the final decision on matters like this, was the person i was filling in for this time. she's diving in belize, and called me in to help cover her workload.
this was my least favourite prep ever. and my least favourite ethical call ever.
so, since i'm just a freelancer there, i did the prep for the book, made notes and pulled articles about the drama, and left it for her to figure out when she returns. i'm assuming she booked this dude not knowing all this shit, so this'll be the worst return-to-work-after-fabulous-vacation surprise ever...
sigh.
i still feel shitty about dumping it on her, and dirty, after reading all the gory details.
to keep or to chuck the ugly jersey is no longer the question...
walk good.

2 Comments:

Blogger JJ said...

That's a hard day at work. I watched a show about a guy whose daughter falsely accused him of molesting her and how it ruined their family and took ten years to clear up. On the other hand, there is no worse crime than taking advantage of someone who depends on you for love and guidance. Tough call.

1:55 pm  
Blogger Mad Bull said...

Thats the thing... It may be true, and it may be a lie. Give him the benefit of the doubt. If listeners bring it up, he'll just have to deal with it, won't he?

8:20 am  

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Wednesday, March 22, 2006

brain in a tangle

now, this exercise is largely dependant on your knowing people with dreadlocks at all, but i'ma throw it out there anyway (and keif, i really wanted to link up your rules about people with dreads, but you have no search function i can find, damnit): do at least 60% of all the people you know with dreadlocks also wear glasses, or is it just me? i swear it applies to all the people i see, even...
and i think i just finally, as i wrote the above paragraph with no forethought of what it was gonna say, unexpectedly but happily decided which spelling of dreadlocks is best. yes! that makes life so much easier.
walk good.

ps: i'm gonna see pirate porn @ a b'day thing this weekend! full report to follow! and big up jake for bringing it to pass, although i don't know why i'm linking him since he doesn't post anymore. goddamnit.
pps: i don't know why but that reminded me of my weird uncle keith, which reminded me of his strange brother, my uncle deryck, which reminded me of their was-secretly-married-to-his-secretary-for-5-years brother, my uncle seepoy (his real name is russell but we'll get to that when we get to him).
one @ a time, boys:
my uncle keith has a gate outside his house, but no fence. when coming or going, he unlocks the gate, opens it, walks through, gently shuts it behind him, and locks it back. he makes you go through the gate when you go there.
my uncle deryck has gorgeous, long eyelashes. when he was small, he got tired of people saying he had lashes like a girl, and cut them off.
problem with that is, while one's eyelashes are growing back apparently the eyelash-stubs jook you in the eyeball every time you blink.
that's plenty.
my uncle seepoy's real name is russell. they call him seepoy (and i mean, everybody, all the time, to the point where i thought it was his real name until i was in high school and this girl in my year was the niece of his then-girlfriend-soon-to-be-wife-in-secret-for-years-before-the-family-knew, and she came up to me in school one day and said, my aunt lystra is going around with your uncle russell, and i said, i don't have an uncle named russell, and everybody in their family thought i thought i was better than leslie-ann-niece-of-the-woman-who-was-secretly-married-to-my-uncle and was just denying her a link between us) because he looks so chinee, and when my mom and 12-5 siblings were growing up, they had things hard because my grandfather, the beloved basil, had left my grandmother to marry aunty janet and have 2 more (legit) children, so they had to send seepoy to stay with basil's brother in venezuela and his kids, and seepoy never quite got over it- but he speaks fluent spanish- and he was secretly married to his secretary in his office that he shared with his father, my grandfather, the famous basil, for years without telling the family, and now he+lystra have 5 children who all have japanese middle names because he does a lot of business with japanese dudes and has a lot of respect for their culture, but their first boy's first name is alpacino, because lystra, the toonts, really likes the actor al pacino, so this youth's name is alpacino narojito smith.
ppps: this post now officially contains more "ps:" than post.

4 Comments:

Anonymous keifel said...

it was in the right hand column, here is the link:
http://keifel.journalspace.com/?entryid=795

8:20 pm  
Blogger JJ said...

Yes, yes, yes, but why "seepoy"? What does it mean? That was some of the best family tree shaking I've seen in a while, Trini. I should do mine some day, but it's so East Texas hillbilly I think everyone will lose what little respect they have for me.

2:00 pm  
Blogger JJ said...

Okay, Blogger is acting crazy so this may be a double:

P.S. - As you can tell from my new photograph, I am no longer wearing dreads.

2:02 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

gotta love family! seepoy was just something chinee-sounding, i guess. doesn't mean anything i know of...
and thanks for the link, keif- i suggest everybody check it out.
walk good.

7:07 pm  

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Sunday, March 19, 2006

flash fiction friday, born on a sunday...

in spite of being in purgatory, jj manages to set up this fff thang, for which he deserves a hearty big up:

I never said you were... the only one.
when i said those words, they didn’t end with “…and only you.” so why should you think you’d be the only recipient, the only beneficiary? what makes you think you’re so much better and more deserving than anybody else? do you even know these people? no! so who are you to judge their worthiness?
i can’t believe you’d actually have the gall to say something like that after, what, maybe 3 months…but maybe it’s my fault. maybe i allowed you to get too comfortable too fast, didn’t make you fight hard enough for it to start with, so now it’s too easy for you to take this shit for granted.
i can accept that. that it might be partially my own doing. but even so, what would make you assume anything about me? don’t we have an understanding about who i am?
i mean, now i almost feel bad. like maybe i led you astray about what this was while i was busy thinking i was introducing you to something you might enjoy. and yes, i did say, what this was. your reaction to your assumption’s unraveling clearly shows that i made an error in judgement when i thought you could handle the way i conduct my relationships.
i’m sorry. my bad.
and i really am sorry too, because i was having such a good time…
but, such is life, i suppose. live and learn, and all that shit.
well. i guess i’m out then.
see you.

i. meant. her.
hers. don’t. know.


walk good.

3 Comments:

Blogger JJ said...

Interesting. I want more. It sounds like the end of a complicated relationship that was supposed to be simple.

2:11 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

exactly.
thank you.
walk good.

12:40 am  
Blogger justacoolcat said...

Setting expectations is more complicated that it should be.

Why mess with a good thing?

1:45 pm  

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Saturday, March 18, 2006

been scarce because...

your blog is a creative space all yours.
i know people who write but hate editing, but i love the whole thing- starting with just thoughts, then putting them into words, then stringing the words together in a way that pleases me, then creeping toward perfection in expressing what was in my head as i tweak those words. i love nothing better than when i write then edit something down until it's a concise, but evocative representation of what i'm thinking. it's so satisfying to read it back and know it says, and suggests, exactly what i wanted, in every shade of meaning (that is, when i manage to get it right).
so if i love it here, why have i been so absent since carnival?

i've been asking myself that question, but ironically, as i was finally ready to be here again and done being sick, my father-in-law came to visit. so between evenings attempting the family thing (i'm no good @ that stuff) and stage managing the shakespeare festival and being back @ the radio station, i was beginning to think this'd have to wait until my day off next thursday.
but i feel like yesterday, working on the anna deavere smith segment for the station, some things came into sharper and more urgent focus, so here i am, trying to squeeze this in (and, simultaneously, out) before we head out as family this afternoon.

love is not enough.
relationships are hard, interracial relationships even harder, and crosscultural relationships more complicated still. and people fall out of love in as easily as they fall in it. or continue to love knowing they're not what the other needs in their life and can't provide what's necessary either. this is the minefield we all navigate and some days we feel more capable than others, but we keep trying because love is what we're all about.
but knowing love is not enough is not enough. we need to know when it stops being worthwhile. we need to recognise whether we're at that point, because sometimes those days when we feel less capable become weeks which slip into months which slide into years. we need to remember that when one person in the relationship doubts (anything) the other can surely feel it too- they are (presumably) equally invested and involved, so not saying out loud what those doubts are only make a partner worry more about that wall they can sense but know nothing concrete about.
love is not enough. but it is also everything. and sometimes we're so fixated on the ones we love that we forget if we're not good to ourselves too, we're no good to them either. and sometimes 2 people can each be so concerned about the other that they can miss each other entirely. we want everything for those we love, but can never give it to them because it's not all within our control.
sometimes loving someone becomes synonymous with having the whole world to lose.
often, love is as scary as it is fulfilling. because we know it is not enough. but it is everything.
love hard.
walk good.

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Sunday, March 12, 2006

flash fiction!

as always, big up jj, the purgatorian for the setup of this piece of weekend fun...not sure how i got this from his starter, but hope you enjoy, nonetheless:

The realization slowly dawned on me…
it hung in the air, very still, for a moment after she said the words, and it took me a little longer to really digest what it meant. the ramifications, if you will, of her announcement.
but once i realised what was up, i was on it.
i snapped into action. it could not be allowed to be.
i stepped out of line, turned to her, brought up my knee, and slammed the heel of my stiletto into the toe of hers. i snatched the bouquet and little notecard from her flapping hands, tore them into a hundred tiny pieces of swirling petals and paper, then turned my wrath on the others, still standing in line, shocked and awed.
i grabbed the closest two by their french-rolled-hair and smashed their heads together. then i grabbed the third one’s sash and dragged her toward me. i quickly slid it up to her neck, and cinched it tight with one hand. i wasn’t sure how long she’d take to pass out, so i also punched her in the gut with my free hand for good measure. but as she doubled over it got too difficult to keep the sash pulled tight, so i let that go, held the back of her chignon, and brought my knee up into her face instead.
with their “number one” dealt with, i turned back to the other 2, who were still trying to get a grip on themselves and stand up straight like they’d been trained – i guess their heads were harder than i’d thought – but i realised i didn’t really have any fight with them. they hadn’t usurped my rightful title. and i’d dealt with the one who had.
who i needed to take issue with now was those damned judges…
i ran down and jumped off the edge of the stage, twisting my ankle something awful on my landing in those heels, and tearing the slit in the front of that gorgeous sequined dress the rest of the way open, and as i dove across the table, aimed for the throat of the first judge, i heard somebody scream,
“run! her talent was kung-fu!”


walk good.

5 Comments:

Blogger Princess LadyBug said...

w00t! Hit 'em with your tiara, girlfriend!

10:28 pm  
Blogger chelene said...

Oh, that last line cracked me up! You're awesome, trini. really.

11:45 pm  
Blogger Terri said...

great story! lol!

2:11 pm  
Blogger JJ said...

Excellent story, Trini. Great punch line - nudge nudge. Sorry I haven't been around much lately, drowning in story problems.

4:52 pm  
Blogger cookie wonton said...

Oh I love it!!!

1:14 am  

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Saturday, March 11, 2006

another petty theft

was reading some spinning girl and was introduced to gizoogle.
so, of course, i promptly gizoogled sweet trini's urbanfolktales.
and yo, yo, yo, check it out, here is the new+improved shizzle...
walk good.

1 Comments:

Blogger Attillah said...

this shizzle is off the hizzle!

1:56 pm  

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Thursday, March 09, 2006

back in black. and blue, and silver...

yes, people, jouvay was the best.
i flew home for 3days worth of carnival because i knew jouvay would be worth it, and it was. yes, i know it's almost 2weeks late, but i've been sick, and stage managing. and washing the last of the paint out my locks.
i didn't see all of the 3canal show because i touched down on closing night and had to rush to the little carib theatre to catch the end of it, but made it in time for their tribute to the late great john isaacs, which (of course) reduced me to tears. what i saw (and heard) was as good as i knew it'd be, and the canals' being backed by a live band only makes a good thing better.
i was, however, a jouvay warrior (for those new to this blog, trini dictionary on sidebar) with 3canal on carnival monday morning, and that was my mas- until i got too sick and manwarren had to put me in the paint truck before the savannah dust rendered me completely unable to breathe. but it was more than worth it for my precious hours of riddim-section-and-body-paint-bliss; a delight that pretty mas just doesn't provide.
i unexpectedly saw sheldon blackman and the love circle (more of my amazing extended family) perform, through a wonderful coincidence of my sistren having to pick up her sister @ their gig that i knew nothing about, having just flown in outta nowhere. seeing them onstage again was more than i coulda hoped for on an unplanned carnival jaunt, and sheldon even sang my song, reducing me to tears for the 2nd time in 24hours back in sweet trini...
apparently, new band members were also moved to finally meet the person who 'inspired the song' so by the end of the show i was completely humbled by questions i had no words to answer, about what it was like to be that person. i still can't explain why it's humbling, but that's the closest i can come to a response anytime somebody asks me about it...
also ran into rentaempress @ their gig and ended up liming with her from that evening through jouvay, which was most cool, since i'd just been hunting her down and getting reacquainted before leaving d.c. and since she's better about these things than myself, i highly recommend checking out her carnival (and other) photos (4fingers+thumb, sidebar). actually, you should also check out caribbeanfreeradio's carnival coverage...i may not be good about these things, but i know people who are (sidebar).
also this carnival, my "little cousin" chad got married, prompting me to venerate him here, in the fashion to which we've made him accustomed: chad (who the girls apparently believe to be quite sexy) was a red sugarhead boy who had to grow into his nose. it's a family nose, but he definitely was the recipient of its definitive version. we affectionately called him "bignose" (among other names) as children in st.lucien gardens- it was his own fault for being the youngest of us.
chad was the kind of boy who, when he dropped his icecream from its cone onto the gravelly carpark, calmly squatted to lick it up. he ate many things that others would not.
needless to say, as he got big enough for his nose to work for him and girls to start throwing sexual favours in his lap (i mean that in every way possible- they looove our chaddy-boy) we made sure he could never forget that we know who he is, regardless of his newfound sexiness.
i don't know if this is a trinbago thing or if all children had this, but remember that 'toy' that was a tiny tube (like travel toothpaste) filled with colourful gooey stuff, with a small, red plastic straw taped to the side- you'd basically squeeze out a small amount of the gooey stuff onto one end of the red plastic straw and blow through the other, making a rubbery bubble...in retrospect, i'm not sure what the entertainment value of this was supposed to be- doesn't seem like much- but i guess enough people liked it...
anyway, when chad was small, he decided to experiment by shoving this gooey stuff up his nose. he pushed too far and naturally, it got stuck, and he became the only person we know who went to the hospital to have a self-inflicted gooey mass removed from his upper nasal cavity- he ended up in the bed next to randall (brother of dionne, of barbie-bathing, house-flooding fame) who had a real injury (hernia, i think).
so as i remember growing up with chad, on the occasion of his marriage, i wish him all good things, and remind him not to forget the boy who kept us constantly entertained in st.lucien gardens back in the day.
walk good.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Georgia/Caribbean Free Radio said...

So you're the "Elisha" of Sheldon's "Elisha" - should have known. Great song. I played it once on CFR and the response was fabulous.

And thanks for the link.

11:30 am  

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Sunday, March 05, 2006

feeling flash fiction friday

this is the first time since i started writing again that i'm putting something out there for the world to read without grims reading it first. but if i wait for him to get home i may change my mind, so i'ma post it while i'm still feeling ok about exposure.
big up jj for the fff set-up, and here goes:

The transom. I forgot the transom…it’d been used against me before, too. if you leave those alternate entries open then anybody can get in and take what they want from you. you’d think i’d know by now. if you leave any way in unprotected, somebody’s bound to sneak in, make themselves at home, make you feel all comfortable with them, then the next thing you know, you’re attached. and the next thing you know after that, they’re leaving with pieces of you in their pockets. you think you just need to lock your doors, but people are sneaky.
you’re going about your business and you meet someone. and you think you’re all locked up tight so nobody can get in, but he persists in talking to you. and your mother raised you polite so you respond, but immediately let him know you’re not an option. and he says, that’s ok, he just wanted to talk to you because you seemed interesting, different, mysterious, whatever. and he’s not trying to get in, but it’s a beautiful day and he just thought you might enjoy coming out to frolic in the front yard.
and you think, ok, he seems innocent enough, and if your company makes him happy, it’s not intruding on your space too much.
so you talk. and he talks. and you spend a little time out there with him. you remember how much you love being in your front yard with the sun in your face. and he seems ok with not being invited in. so you continue to play in your yard with him.
but then, you start making play dates.

it’s still innocuous, but you’re spending more time out in your yard with him, than holed up in your home spending quality time with yourself like you’d planned. and then you start forgetting to lock your house up as tight when you venture into the yard to meet him – after all, you’re not going anywhere, and he’s not trying to come in…
soon, he’s peering in through the splits between your curtains. he’s knocking on your windows under the pretense of helping ensure you’re as protected as you think. he’s your friend, and just wants to make sure you’re safe in there, all alone, when he’s not playing in your yard.
then one night, you’re in bed and hear a noise, and you jump, and he’s standing in your room, looking apologetic, but so sweet. you gather the sheets around yourself and ask him what he’s doing here and how did he get in?
and he says your transom was broken and he just wanted to let you know.
and you ask, didn’t he need a ladder to get in that way? and he smiles and apologises and says he was concerned about you so he brought one, and climbed in to make sure nobody else had snuck in and disturbed you. he half-thought he might need to scare off an intruder.
and it’s so endearing, his concern, and your mother raised you polite, so you offer him a glass of water, or hot tea, or whatever, and he accepts. you pull on your kimono and head for your kitchen, dragging him along by the hand so he can’t look around too much on the way. the kitchen’s safe. you can wait in there for the kettle to boil.
he inspects everything in your kitchen. touches each item. he loves it. it feels comfortable to him.
he also loves tea.
you sit with him, trying to relax, snatching glances over your uneasy shoulder at the rest of yourself, your home, while trying not to draw his attention to all of you suddenly exposed…
while the tea’s steeping, he asks for the tour, and your mother raised you polite, so you say ok. he’s safe, right?
you’re feeling vulnerable, but find yourself asking him to stay – after all, the transom’s busted and any stranger can get in. at least you know him, you can trust him, he’s your friend.
3 years later, he’s leaving, through the transom, the way he first came in, and as he wriggles through, something falls from his pocket onto your welcome mat.
you bend over to retrieve this last piece of him, and find the broken-off piece of the latch that’d been missing all this time...


walk good.

8 Comments:

Blogger Display Name said...

why? why can't I write like this? how do you manage to be emotionally evocative yet remain so succinct? very nicely done.

2:45 pm  
Blogger justacoolcat said...

I love the figuratives. This piece could speak about so many situations in life, I attached it to failed love.

Nice work.

5:30 pm  
Blogger chelene said...

I liked this very much. The fact that I'm not entirely sure of the context made it even better.

8:08 pm  
Blogger Debby said...

I'm in total agreement with coolcat, this has so many layers and subtexts going on, it's truly an amazing piece of work.

8:35 pm  
Blogger porchwise said...

A little slice of mixed emotion.

11:19 pm  
Blogger Terri said...

Wow, for some reason that made me want to cry.
That's a compliment, btw...

9:34 am  
Blogger James said...

Oooh, I liked how circular the tale was. People are not always what they seem, eh?

10:06 am  
Blogger angel said...

hmmm, makes you think doesn't it!

3:39 am  

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Friday, March 03, 2006

irony's wishlist fulfilled

so i got my wish.
both of them, in fact: i made it home to sweet trini for carnival, and lost weight.
but the irony (with me, it's prerequisite) is that i got home for carnival still pudgy, feted, played jouvay, and crawled home with the nasty fever that heralded my sickness. i ate nothing solid between sunday lunch and thursday's dinner and have thus lost nearly 10lbs. i guess fate missed the part where i wanted to lose it pre-carnival...
anyway, i am indeed back, and will indeed tell the tales that must be told of the wonderful time i had. just gonna sleep a little more first...
walk good.

1 Comments:

Anonymous pottevil said...

Welcome back! I'm sure you brought back traces of blue mud you thougth you washed away. Happy that you made it back home!

10:15 am  

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