Thursday, August 28, 2014


Schools gon re-open soon, and nowadays-children gon be suffering again.

Why they have to carry, in giant backpacks, every single text-book that they own, instead of taking the particular text-books for those particular lessons for that particular day? (Our teachers used to say, "On such and such day, bring such and such text-book, that’s the one we will be using.")

Why school-children have to have extra lessons? Don't the teachers give sufficient lessons? A young school-friend tell me, "The teachers don't teach everything in the classroom. They say, you will have to come to my special private lessons (for a fee), to learn the rest."

Why aren't children allowed to play during school-term while they're studying? Why can they play only during the holidays? What kinda ignorant parents they breeding now that say, "They must not play. They must sit down and do their work." All day? All night? For months? They never hear that play is one of the most important ways to discover? To learn? To think?

Why so much home-work? It gon make children smarter, more inventive, more creative, more thinking, more analytic, disciplined than students of the past?

And! Passing so many exams gon prove what? That they can sweat the books really well...and...what else? It gon make them more articulate, wiser, more creative, inventive, more thinking, more analytic? Really? If that is the case, why is it so many o' them can't even write a proper sentence in English? 
(Know the rules so you can break them when doing creative writing, but half o’ them children don't know the rules).

People...grown-up people in charge of education all ever hear about burn-out? It ever occur to y'all that y'all creating a generation of repressed, uptight...?

And WHERE is my readers list, dear Blogger??

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Sunday Morning, the year is almost done…

...and here me is, lazing, lounging, lying in, doin’ nothing but listening to The Who, Led Zepplin, that type of thing.

Been a long, odd illness, like I had muddy water in me body, and in me head was fog that stretch far to that place where the eyes can’t see, and me legs was like wet grass shivering in the wind.  Every now and then, I would regain me strength like rain thundering, then, bradaps, it would drain outta me.

So, here me is, lazying-about and the year is almost done but the manuscript ain’t done editing.

And I think, as painful as the lesson is, that is how life is.

We dream, we plan, we feel invincible, full o’ joy, full o’ charm, like beautiful gals on stage, but we drop-down, and get led to places we never thought we would be.

And I wonder if, maybe, we have to go to these places to see things in we-selves that we never would see otherwise.

Even now, I ain’t know fully what I’m supposed to see, I see only some of it.  But maybe, I ain’t supposed to see it all right now.  I’m supposed to feel it, memorise it.

Like land lying fallow.

Absorbing, resting, waiting... 

Monday, August 11, 2014


Dear Everyone,

Been some long, scary, lonely weeks this past month. 

Viral infection, pretending to be flu but it ain't, is not fun, lemme tell you all.

But, li'l bit, li'l bit, 

I beginning to feel like the big-fat super moon everybody talkin' about; 

like the wind after the rain wash-out the dust from me face, 

and the sea at 4 o' clock in the afternoon, sun and waves doing a jig, evening waiting in the wings. 

A li'l bit of that is how I feel today. 

Thursday, July 24, 2014



Could you repeat that please?

I didn’t hear you…!


I come back to Guyana and me got ear infection.

Been to the ENT.


All advice accepted but you all gon have to speak up.

But y'all pleeeease don’t tell me about pouring crapaud oil, big-fat frog oil, in me pretty, little shell ears!!!

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

Florida-ing again!

I’s in the state of Florida again! I should say “I’m Florida-ing.” Present continuous. Taking in, talking, listening, hearing, watching, doing, going, phewing!

Sunday afternoon, at my sister and brother-in-law house: five hungry, growing, video-game-competing, running, basketball-thunking, sweating boys, age 16 to 10; me, emailing; sister talking; brother-in-law upstairs watching football; mammy asking to watch Netflix.

Mammy saying, “I’ve never seen Forrest Gump.”

Suddenly, silence in the house apart from the movie.

I look up.

Along the curved, long settee, five boys and my mother-the grandmother with the white-white hair watching Forrest Gump.

Five boys, various shades o’ grunge, sweat and odour. One o’ them, a neigbour son, though pale as milk with brown hair, look exactly like the other four, like they been bathing in oil and heat and dirt, hair pointing north-south-east-west like weather-vane.

“Look,” I tell my sister.

“I feel like taking a tin o’ Febreze and sprayin’ them,” she say.

I join them on the settee, carefully choosing a spot to avoid sitting too close to the grungeS.  The movie is going good and there is a lot o’ laughing, knee-slapping, from the audience.

Then Jenny in the movie start taking off she top.

Awkwardness is flying from them young chappies, fidgeting, shifting, turning they heads away, one or two giggling, ‘til one by one, they sliding off the settee and disappearing outdoors. (And de prude in me is feelin' real grateful.)

The war-part come on again, I watch them drifting in… 

Monday, June 16, 2014

De big ole home by de sea.

Near de sea 
is we big ole home
that we father did build for we.
There are windows all around, 
lettin' in de sunlight, 
de trees, 
de bird-songs, 
de cry of the hawk,
de water from de sky, 
de flowers-perfume from the garden after de soaking rain,
and de shadows that play between sunshine and shade.

I didn't need science to tell me this...

Internet trolls are sadists and psychopaths.