misspoken, but still 1 step closer...

i know i said i'd start the paris posting today, but in my haste i forgot the "catching up" that has yet to happen. as such, this post is a mishmash- apparently my enormous ego will allow no random thought to go undocumented, and thus i must use these notes before i move on to paris...
small world: the other day somebody called my mobile and asked for peter (my uncle peter is dionne's father) so i confusedly told him he had the wrong number, wondering if i were in trini where our phone number and the dacosta's were once close enough to be mistaken- confused not that someone might misdial, but confused because when a call reads "unknown" i assume it's my parents calling from trini and as i said to derek(sp?) alexander, he had the wrong number but right accent- he managed to dial the mobile of this unknown fellow-trini from a random call centre in trini, while trying to reach another trini in the d.c. metro area whose digits differ from mine by one (one of the 10digits differs from mine by a value of 1). this was within days of randomly chatting with a french youth on the train en route to the radio station because he was listening to something in his headphones that sounded suspiciously like soca- i was eyeing him, trying to figure out how this unlikely character happened to be bubbling to soca, and when he caught me looking he blushed and turned down his music; so i said it was nothing but curiosity about what he was taking in. he smiles and starts trying to tell me all about this cool trini music, i laugh and tell him where i'm from, find out he's from france, tell him we were planning a trip to paris, come to find out he got turned on to soca, calypso and dub while kicking ball with some west africans in high school in d.c. later that week, walking from the station to the metro, arms overladen with literary booty, i see this beautiful dreadlocked man walking toward me. as he comes up on me, he smiles (even more beautiful) and offers to help me carry my shit, and my smile back is one of pleasant surprise @ his mellifluous trini tones. d.c. was feeling like home home for a hot minute there.
less cool: delineating a rape "timeline" is so fucked up- somehow, the state of maryland has decided that a woman can only give or deny consent at the very beginning of sex, and no later, regardless of the fact that any human interaction can shift radically in a moment. or the fact that there are things that a man-cum-rapist may opt to not disclose until well after the beginning of heated activity.
and an academic accent-related question: where are you from, and how do you pronounce the name "alyse"? elise? marcia? aaron?
something interesting before i go: foundmagazine, and this illness, which sounds like one of the biggest causes of daily stress i can think of (post-paris, even going to rehearsal is too many people for me, far less if i knew i was supposed to know them, but didn't).
walk good.