Argh… the long silences.
By the time I remember I mean to be writing regularly on this blog, a month or two have flashed by.
By the time I think to comment further on what’s gone by – politics, for example – it’s already stale.
By the time I sit to write, everything I want to say has left my head.
Something must be done about this!
Indeed.
…But what?
Finding time to find time
Where do we manufacture time, where do we fabricate industrious vocabularies and magnificent splendour in literary etchings on the Web?
I don’t know.
But forget the normal blog rules about needing tags and categories and links to other sites, and all that.
I don’t have time to find time to have time to come up with wonderful ideas for blogging anymore!
From now on I will just write.
Today I thought I would share something.
Those who know me will be well aware of the very few times I will make a nice comment on my country.
So here’s one for the books (and in Trini slang, screw the Grammar Nazism rules!):
A Trini tale
Rainy season hit. You know we don’t get rain all the time so when it rain it rain plenty plenty.
So me on meh way home ah day, I sit down in a maxi-taxi, rain pounding de window and de roof and all kinda ting.
A woman, few seat in fronta me, she start frantically searching thru she bag.
Like she eh find wat she lookin for so she tun round and ask a nex woman, “Aye excuseee… you have a plastic bag I cud borrow?”
The next woman give she a plastic bag. Then she tun to a next fella and ask for piece of the papers he reading. So she get that too – he give she the front and last page leaf, coz that not important: “same shit different day, only politics and crime,” he say as he hand she.
So Miss Lady now, she proceed to start folding up the piece of newspaper into a funny shape.
Then she wrap the funny shape round her hair like a turban, and put the plastic bag on top of that.
She find some clip in her bag to hold the whole contraption to her head.
Then bout two minutes after she finish, she press the bell to stop the maxi.
And if you see meh girl, walking out high and proud, crossing road, cool and calm, getting soaking wet… but the hair covered.
Nobody in the maxi bat an eyelash.
The woman who did give her the plastic bag smile as she look out the window at Miss Lady.
She know the feeling, yuhknow… who care bout rain, as long as you don’t waste your trip to the hairdresser!
Only in Trinidad.
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes… you just got to love it.
A TRINI TALE…
July 7, 2010Argh… the long silences.
By the time I remember I mean to be writing regularly on this blog, a month or two have flashed by.
By the time I think to comment further on what’s gone by – politics, for example – it’s already stale.
By the time I sit to write, everything I want to say has left my head.
Something must be done about this!
Indeed.
…But what?
Finding time to find time
Where do we manufacture time, where do we fabricate industrious vocabularies and magnificent splendour in literary etchings on the Web?
I don’t know.
But forget the normal blog rules about needing tags and categories and links to other sites, and all that.
I don’t have time to find time to have time to come up with wonderful ideas for blogging anymore!
From now on I will just write.
Today I thought I would share something.
Those who know me will be well aware of the very few times I will make a nice comment on my country.
So here’s one for the books (and in Trini slang, screw the Grammar Nazism rules!):
A Trini tale
Rainy season hit. You know we don’t get rain all the time so when it rain it rain plenty plenty.
So me on meh way home ah day, I sit down in a maxi-taxi, rain pounding de window and de roof and all kinda ting.
A woman, few seat in fronta me, she start frantically searching thru she bag.
Like she eh find wat she lookin for so she tun round and ask a nex woman, “Aye excuseee… you have a plastic bag I cud borrow?”
The next woman give she a plastic bag. Then she tun to a next fella and ask for piece of the papers he reading. So she get that too – he give she the front and last page leaf, coz that not important: “same shit different day, only politics and crime,” he say as he hand she.
So Miss Lady now, she proceed to start folding up the piece of newspaper into a funny shape.
Then she wrap the funny shape round her hair like a turban, and put the plastic bag on top of that.
She find some clip in her bag to hold the whole contraption to her head.
Then bout two minutes after she finish, she press the bell to stop the maxi.
And if you see meh girl, walking out high and proud, crossing road, cool and calm, getting soaking wet… but the hair covered.
Nobody in the maxi bat an eyelash.
The woman who did give her the plastic bag smile as she look out the window at Miss Lady.
She know the feeling, yuhknow… who care bout rain, as long as you don’t waste your trip to the hairdresser!
Only in Trinidad.
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes… you just got to love it.
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