Wednesday, December 29, 2010

requiem

my brother is dead. weeks. nearly a month now and i still unable to think of and focus on much else. it penetrates everything i think, say, do, every wine i have wound in an attempt at defiance of the fact and distraction from the unbearable loss. i have lost others valued enough to remember always: basil. john. shorty i. i am irreligious because is too obviously about controlling the masses and i have issues with authority and because i believe energy cannot be created or destroyed, only converted from 1 form into another. i do right by people and doh business if it have god(s) or not, doh care wha' religion or the religious think; i hold down my corner and leave them theirs, and keep doing right by people. but unnecessary suffering propels me from not caring to demanding: what the fuck kinna god(s) allyuh really supporting out here?
i told myself loss could not hold me anymore as i gladly filed divorce papers this week, and is true for impending loss in court, but not for darren. i still wearing chucks+boxers i took from him 15years ago when we were invincible. why his things here and we here? why his siblings here and he not here? why i here and he not getting ready to turn 30, wining on top the world?
only the good die young. my brother is dead. overs these bullshit gods and their petty, ridiculous ways.
walk good.

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Tuesday, December 21, 2010

clearly not walkin' good...

epic fail photos - CLASSIC: Multiple FAILS
epic fail photos - Frog Fail Gif
try allyuh bes'...walk good...

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Sunday, December 19, 2010

our pom videos

went back-in-blog-times looking for something for a pardner the other day and now my inner archivist insist we hadda finally embed and postmortem this project; in post-just-linked the final link included is to the video-director's post, process+postmortem, storyboards-to-videos; at the time it seemed better to let him explain, but in rereading his post and realising i should also embed the videos here, i also discovered i agree with his notes and my clear favourite of the 2 has technical as well as creative+sentimental reasons.
the crazyfool brought the project as director approaching actor with concept+storyboard+resources+deadline. i inveigled my favourite then-local(d.c.) bassist to provide original score, which he did, beautifully (as he did in another collaboration with tap-dancing pardner i linked with him; if you ever in d.c. needing boss-bass, holla). i got to be part of the process of refining the sound and am still, years later, very pleased with the result and thrilled that glen let me play and guided us well.
i totally agree with the crazyfoolish director's verdict of where+why the originally conceived ad doh quite wuk, so much so that here's a direct quote about his original concept (renew. reuse. recycle) and intention to "fill the cabinet so much that the woman has no other choice but to recycle the glass. but the last four frames fail to read, leaving the concept lacking. maybe the cabinet needed more glasses, maybe the video needed more frames - or specifically cabinet frames. i haven't figured that part out, but i do know that if the recycle concept fails it's only because my other gripe is that the reuse concept doesn't read as i had hoped either. again, more glasses might've helped, but ideally i think i should have listened to advice to fill more of the glasses with greater variety than the existing glass of straws+glass of chopsticks. the now considered good advice was left behind because i wanted to believe that the viewer could see an empty glass and know without being shown that one can put things in it. i see now that had i listened to those smarter voices, the reuse concept would've hit harder and the ad would've been stronger..."
true, but is still 54seconds of worth-watching, so:
my favourite (below) was a random idea i had and inveigled the director and the ex(then-current) to create images+movement for as well, and our bassist to score, once again, brilliantly. i like it more because of sentimental reasons, because i genuinely love both the creative impulses behind it and finished product musically+visually, and partly because of the small failings of the 1st piece to fulfill intentions; enjoy:
walk good.

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Friday, December 17, 2010

flash fiction friday #35

flash fiction friday #35 (inclusion)trigger: spank, drank, thank, stank, rank.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, 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, 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 the 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 whatever, 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.

3 Comments:

Blogger Ishara LeGreat said...

http://isharalegreat.blogspot.com/2010/12/flash-fiction-friday-34-traveller.html
last week's fff a little late, haven't started on the new one yet.

3:01 am  
Blogger Ishara LeGreat said...

http://isharalegreat.blogspot.com/2011/01/flash-fiction-friday-35-rites-of.html

new fff

haven't seen much of you, hope you're good :)

3:16 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

in+done, finally.
off to read legreat; new trigger tomorrow. walk good.

2:22 pm  

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fff#34


“i’m serving dinner for 9 to-night…” her favourite sesame street singalong plays on a loop inside her head as she readies herself, interrupted only occasionally by the mantra “all things are possible”.
“we’re going to dine by can-dle-light…” she hums+giggles through the hot wax then bites down on lyrics as she tears strips now forested with tiny hairs from her legs. real audio ends at her bikini line where true grit begins, happy little ditty reduced to wordless melody in her head. but the rewards will be handsome; she knows well this pain pays dividends. tonight brings no ghost of christmases past or future, just presents.
she inspects her work in the mirror, wishing again for better light, knowing she knows this routine intimately and leaves nothing ungroomed, unoiled, untended. she turns slowly, triple-checking.
“i hope that every-one brings their appetite…”
she briefly pouts over the dinner ruined, roasted beyond recognition while she fought with demetrius’ father on the phone when he tried to back out of keeping him, then shrugs it off. it won’t matter. hunger is tonight’s menu.
she blows a kiss over her shoulder at the self trapped on the closet door and smiles appreciatively at the sight of her ass, anticipating his spank of approval. she maintains herself well in spite of often rough use accepted as occupational hazard, prides herself on skin+physique that boast none of the marks of abuse so many others in the trade carry.
before donning panties she downs a miniature bottle of hennessy to warm her cockles, a silent toast to holiday-wish-fulfilment. silky black briefs with white lace trim whisper over thighs, then she dips a finger dipped in musk into her navel and is ready to host the nicest naughtiness of a working girl’s year.
tonight all things are possible. even love.

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Friday, December 10, 2010

flash fiction friday #34

flash fiction friday #34 (inclusion)trigger (literal, figurative or allusion; although literal uses the rhyme): ghost, roast, boast, toast, host.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, 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, 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 the 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 whatever, 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.

3 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

This roast fowl not working out good at all. It feeling like if i ramping with a ghost. I dunno what do this man nah, and why i believe his boast. Clearly i am very drunk, this always happens when i go weddings. At least this time i am not a bridesmaid and he is not the groom...what can i say 1999 was a helluva year! Steups he still going yes, and i more than fed up, i doh think he could find my pim if it had a big red arrow pointing it out. Steups sex yes, the potential always seems to be greater than the result these days...this is why my ex does watch me and grin, cause he know somewhere deep down inside me i does be craving him. That bitch.
I really can't crawl back to him yuh know, i just can't, even though he knows how to find every single part of me that makes me....oh geez finally he done..."Mih cell number? Nah daise ok...yeah yeah is ok...yeah bye!"
Man does play ting but they does catch feelings when they not suppose to all the time, lemme go wash this man off me in the bathroom yes.
Sigh when will i learn. I want to go home, scrub myself from head to toe, and lay down in my own bed and finish what this fool could not even start. Watch a lil blues and cool mihself.

"And now we will have the opening toast from the mother of the bride..."
Shit that is the host calling for me...time to slip back on my "butter cyar melt in this mouth" face and go not embarrass my daughter with the speech she made me write two weeks ago, while trying to ignore the big stinking smirk that will be on her father's face. I wonder if he go still be smirking if he know what he brother just try to do to me...heh, i guess some things doh run in the family genes yes, but then again looking at how happy my new son in law seems to be with his new bride...maybe some things do...

1:21 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

in+done, above this on blog...walk good.

1:05 pm  
Blogger Ishara LeGreat said...

http://isharalegreat.blogspot.com/2010/12/flash-fiction-friday-34-traveller.html

cuz i realize u didn't see it yet

1:58 am  

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Thursday, December 09, 2010

fff#33

i kinna cheated. when i started writing i was feeling miserable (trinbago sense, not sad) and decided to allude to trigger words, instead of literally using them; even the 1 instance of using the triggerword, the expression's not literal. i know tha's not the exercise, but i at least tried to do it well...still playing with voice of dude; bear with me...walk good.
flash fiction friday #33 (inclusion)trigger: wet, match, chain, trigger, rendezvous.
when phone ring late on a evening like now, is nutting good. nutting good, trust…is dismal drizzly evenings like this pardners does find out they getting horn from they woman, or getting leave by they woman, or both…
men does call- they know we winding down by brooklyn and they could tell us wait, wait to hear they sob story and buy more beers to drown sorrows alla-we know only going away as far as the las’ one, ‘cause men still hadda reach home, alone. empty house. no amount of consolation beers by brooklyn bar changing dat.
and too besides, men does get dotish.
demetrius find out keisha was hornin’ when she tell him the outside totie was better as she jump in the hornerman car outside she wuk a friday evening, and he come and pelt back a 5guinness quick-sharp…eh heh? nex’ ting i know, we on murray street- me, eh, crawling murray street, friday night, fadda- because why? ‘metrius need to break. somewhere in he heartbroken drunk-ass logic he figure he hadda break with somebody else to break keisha hold on him and restore he manhood or some shit so. i jus’ high enough to want to see this go down insteada rocking back and hear ‘bout it in a half-a-hour.
so, murray street here now, scoping out wha’ the park have and them gyal eh looking nice at all at all…i mean, i expecting, if you tryna make a money you tryna look bes’, ent? apparently not. belly! if you see guts! and cellulite, oh geed, man. they letting it all hang to fuck out. nastiness. wha’ men who like hos really for, dread?
anyway. i looking to tell demetrius this a waste-run but same time he grinning in my face like a jackass, talking ‘bout, look one for each a we, as we approaching the corner of the street with the police station- see wha’ fuckin’ woman plus alcohol does cause? one for each a fuckin’ we? mad or wha’? i tell he i only come to make sure nutting eh happen to him and he doh do anything too much more stupid, ‘cause i studying too, where he go go? the car back by brooklyn, not that he should be driving in his condition, or picking up hos in his mudda vehicle neither…i was thinking a speedy suck-prick behind the playground section and i stand guard as there closer to the police and fire station- i woulda handle soldier, eh- but i when make out 2vagrants playing chess in the main pathway i leggo tha’ idea one time. me eh tryna have no vagrant feeling they could have nutting to tell me when i pass in the road- scene?
as we reach the corner here now, 2 nex’ gyal crawl up same time, a straight-hair spanish with fake breasts and a thick dougla…eh heh? i done finish the stag i had walk with and crack the nex’ one i had stick in my pocket and chase it- jus’ high enough to take the chain-up now it have prospects. ‘metrius step to the spanish and i see he point at me and the thick ting. me eh know wha’ deal he make but nex’ ting we following them.
turning back onto roberts street toward brooklyn bar i put a hand on demetrius’ shoulder- me eh tryna have alla brooklyn bar in this- but he jus’ smile back and we cross roberts right after we rounds the corner from murray, into a dark abandoned-looking yard. the spanish take ‘metrius down in the back, dougla take me behind a bush and before i have time for second thoughts, she kneel, drop my pants and have my wood in she mouth.
i jus’ high enough to ‘llow she; i mean, we done here and i hadda wait on achy-breaky-heart, ent? eh heh? nex’ ting, outta no-fuckin’-where, pax-pax-pax! shots buss somewhere down the road, a setta parrots wake and fly out the pommerac tree screaming bloody murder, i jump back so fas’ i lucky i eh sandpaper meh wood on she teeth, and as i pull out i see ‘metrius pelting toward we, pants open and falling down. the las’ ting i want is to get ketch in this shit, so as i see he see me, buss out one time straight for the gateway, he behind me grumbling ‘bout how he prick still hard. shock wear off now he cyah overstand why we leaving without receiving. but me eh even watch back at he. not me+he again, fadda! nex’ time he gyal done him, he drinking+hoing alone as she leave he arse.
i showing you, doh answer, fadda; you go regret it. take wha’ i telling you: he calling back because he figure you eh hear the phone over bar noise first time…unless you want to find yuhself in some murray-street-esque intrigues tonight, let it ring right to fuck dey on the table…

1 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

this was entertaining fun lol! Loved reading it :)

12:50 pm  

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Friday, December 03, 2010

flash fiction friday #33, plus empress diablesse

sorry this trigger late, didn't realise legreat fffd; actually came to blog my choreographic debut and discovered i was late, so i giving you video+trigger...
las' weekend @ coco dance festival i premiered my 1st real attempt @choreography, set to my empress diablesse burlesque fff. my solo's a different incarnation of the empress diablesse character i wukkin' with lately, also still work-in-progress, and as such, i called the piece that instead of directly referencing diablesse in the title yet. i voiced my text (prerecorded, big-up kesh) and with the idea of recycling plastic bottles from sonja dumas (who i try to chain-up to choreograph the solo based on my empress, and instead she make me do it, thanks, eh) paul kain design+build me this stunning costume so i had was to choreograph...work-in-progress currently about 2minutes long, but since i dunno how to edit, after you watch the opening 15seconds, skip to 1minute in and watch the rest (tech rehearsal mobilephone video; long wait for sound cue). for performance there's no leotard under the bustier, jus' skin+plastic and thin strips of velcro across my open back. when it done it will be a proper empress diablesse burlesque...sooncome...video under...
flash fiction friday #33 (inclusion) trigger: wet, match, chain, trigger, rendezvous.
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, 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, 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 the 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 whatever, 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.
video

5 Comments:

Blogger mystie said...

Well de man buss a stink chain up on all of the boys from roun' de ole road and say fete match this sunday, everybody coming down, lime fuh so!
Sure enough sunday reach, people filling in the savannah ready pump up and waiting, cause is long time them ole road fellas say they have a cut ass waiting for we. Cause the last time we make this lil cricket rendezvous dem say we cheat and was in cahoots with de drunk umpire and that final call that decide de game was NOT OUT!
So the teams line up on de field, we in we bess blue and dem in sporty red fuh power!
Wickets ready, batsmen ready and the bowler, tall freddy, miss marva 3rd linghey son about to start he run up.

All of a sudden we see a man running at break neck speed around the corner, he clothes soaking wet sticking on he chest and legs like he just lie down and roll around in a pool of water and then decide to run round fast fast to see if he could get it dry. People start to laugh cause we couldn't understand what was he real point, and then we realise he shouting something while he running and trying to signal to us in the savannah as he coming speeding closer.

ELROY COMING!!!!!!! MAD ELROY COMMING!!!!!!!

Well boy as soon as the local crowd understand what he was shouting, man woman and child leave everything behind and start pelting running out de savannah and as far away as possible from oncoming Mad Elroy. Dey eh even wait to see him running towards them, because they KNOW once he temper trigger is madness in the place an anybody who eh look sharp go get it!

9:58 pm  
Blogger Ishara LeGreat said...

last fff was just difficult for spite and bad mind, but this one is good and done

http://isharalegreat.blogspot.com/2010/12/flash-fiction-friday-33-rendez-vous-sil.html

3:07 am  
Anonymous brent said...

wet, match, chain, trigger, rendezvous

It was a box of wet matches he had sitting on the hill, the sea like a broken plate soaking in the dish liquid of sunset. Not one match would light, so he gave up and listened to the banana leaves turn back and forth, long paper-weight oars moved by the breeze, cigarette limp at his lips.
Waiting for the trigger, the twitch in his eye, the memory of the rendezvous in the hull of the boat down where the sea licks itself with a thousand tongues that all say shhhhhhhhh…

In the empty house on the stilts next to the sea, the hens lay eggs in the corners and on top a pile of wet clothes. No one will touch them. The broken hull of the boat beneath the house, ploughed into the earth, where lovers touch hidden by the sides of the vessel.

He used to lay back in the hull of the boat in the waters of Venezuela, watching a doorway open in the clouds he says, but too many men with their fingers on triggers these days, he says, we can either live like this or we can live in fear…

He remembers her in the boat and the slipping sound, like links of chain falling around him, as the moorings broke in the highest tide and he started to drift. For fear of pirates, and gun men and taking license under the moon, he bit into the flesh of a Portugal unskinned not knowing why his flesh was triggered by that flesh to do such things. But he bit, and the sea sounds even up here, on top this hill, cigarette unlit in his lips, the sounds of boats bucking against their chains.


That’s it for now…thanks for the ff stimulus…Brent

egg, witch, cave

"The egg is considered an embodiment of obeah...so when Jane Patterson was observed burying an egg in Smith's Village in 1893, she was accosted by another resident of the area...For her trouble Patterson was sentenced to six months in jail..."

Theorizing the link between witches, caves and eggs…?

12:55 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

in+done above this post on blog; off to read allyuh + trigger fff#34...walk good.

11:32 am  
Blogger sweet trini said...

mysti: yuh well crack me up, felt like i see this happen.
brent: beautiful+evocative, and thanks for the eggs/witch/cave bonus...
walk good

12:06 pm  

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