seems i was a scrapped out and scrapped down computer
to nothing but its framed metal (of what zero value?) to be recycled. used, taken to the scrappers or the dump.
period
but appears as though the point came after, the decision of which or both i am not clear. i just know the two conclusions or derivatives existed:
one, gratitude. overwhelming gratitude. maybe the issue was i was scrapped down to nothing empty of no use and consequence and yet still, i am filled of gratitude
two, empty to nothing so, of no value in the world, I was still, invaluable
weird huh. I know
even my dreams are riddles and puzzles to put together
i ponder whether to share a conversation i had with a long time friend yesterday who is now a minister. i really feel, now, today that trinidad is missing out on not hearing the inner views, insights and thoughts of this person/ on our society (it is brutal full of personal trauma where children suffer it from small and grow up under it, that is their nourishment), on men ("you ehnt hear the Minister say 40% of the population mentally ill"; "I do hear that a lot about the men - bipolar schizophrenia". "listen the men are hogs and the women have come to that assessment" on women: they have come to the understanding of how hoggish the men are about what they want so they have decided to use it against them and so relations are nothing but negotiations to get what one wants" on relationships: dismal. On work: "I was shock to see the level at which sex pervades the office" " the women there are parlaying and using it to promote, survive and maintain" "I have long said this is a highly sexualized society" "how the desk banter and conversation in any office is empty mopshit separate from the heavily infused sexual inuendo at the watercooler amongst and amidst all...and even as he went on to tell me how difficult i am because i am not contending these things, how men would not have the patience to get to know me because men here do not know women are specialized, each individually, and how I do not mix in with people's vibration at their level...all about all the things I dont do to make me not fit. He tells me all the sordid things that imbues, pervades, emits, grows this place that validates staying away. It was amusing. I gave that feedback...his response is that all must survive and the fact "that i was not grown here I never "acculturated" to the madness, so that is why it is almost impossible for me" and how much I am like his wife, she having given back a contract for she did not want to hear any story about minister's wife...he says, "who does that?" "nobody does that here" but for her and me, "we are absolute morality people"
i cant begin to tell you how deep this exchange, how much underground is its foundation - full of irony, tragedy, personal disappointment, long life friendship, drama, past resentment and anger...LIFE...just nine years worth about...
but it was that richness and the insights squeezed from it, i feel I wanted to share to show you how much you miss from looking at people and not never knowing who they really are, and what they have to offer. and I am not talking about me but him. he needs to be on a show, giving running commentary, with quiet interviews with someone sensible who knows him to elicit the information out for consumption.
then when i pondered whether to share this content, I imagined...to you the reader the trinidad public: you have a minister, and could not even imagine his personal story...that man was unemployed for years before now. that these are pictures and truths about our society..
it made me wonder the personal life stories of the other members in public life/ and in juxtaposition to other people/
but he might be unusual. He like me, spent some years outside and abroad. there is a few of us who may need to be rounded up, corral for a purpose. what i am not sure
there is the seen and unseen and then, the world cosmic between
i think too between all these night thoughts and yesterday experiences my universe gave me who will see me and relate to me. for some reason a white man, of no particular identity, but he has a face, appeared on my screen..perhaps as I have been writing musing and insighting about men and relationships so much these past days, he showed up. daylight will tell
another random thought: fb is just another blog to me.
I write to no one in particular. but myself. just myself. just releasing and emptying the cup to myself. Kind of like going to the river in the back every morning...you live one consciousness at sleep and prepare for the other consciousness during daylight..of sorts...as it is becoming clearer, I am not prepared or equipped to deal with my current daily realities, and so i took recluse as an option. we talked of that too..how I used to be an opposite. a butterfly socialite from barataria, "Until trinidad battered me"
leading leaving me to morph into the snake medicine moruga company merikin obeah intergalactic sephirot lightworker universal wombmyn of port of spain
this is all validating. i am being real and authentic to myself and not playing to the crowd or society...uhm something else he said too that comes to mind...:how i saw people were selling their souls to survive here and I decided that was neither my pot nor spoon: something like that...
i write a story, a personal testimony of a place where I currently stand...
Good Sunday July 8 Morning
stuff makes no sense until you start writing
you should do the same
lets write for those who cant or dont
Marquez.
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