Jameel
Mohammed : "PP, PNM is d worst thing in my country both bring down this
country and stupid people falling for it,so anyone who could find them
self fighting for anyone of them just as bad as them,what a messssss"
there is a grand and gross irony going on here. perhaps many
what a few days ago was the rage against misogyny by a few, against a few.
is now a collective national hew, put across by all manner of disgusts and diatribe
and the culprit is not seen as a despicable human being, but as a woman first, so all references to --low p****y, and inhumanity is flowing, substantiated and condoned. the whole verbal nation. all the fb well to dos. the cliques. all one voice
but a few days before they were talking about women's care and proper protocol, which was a farce/ and i say a farce because this is how trinidad and trinidadians are. there is no where you dont see this behavior, fallout, eventuality. cross someone and they will cuss you 'stink'...i was actually thinking the other day is only here such a simple what used to be innocuous word became almost the worst thing my ears could hear: 'stink' . the way trinidadians pronounce that word, you all not from here would believe and people from here so accustomed hearing it they probably dont hear its vibration and the vituperation in which it is almost always uttered, given too, the context it is almost always used. not to describe the smell of something, but often to describe or extend a characteristic of a person.
i wrote and said for years before elections and politics took over trinidad with this pnm loss of 2010 and pp unc government subsequent, when people complained i was always amused because the politicians are none other than the people the citizens went to school with, the same prestige schools they all flock around...the cults. which is something i have been musing about in recent days, given the same debacle in the states and my own experiences in a sorority and taking it back to trinidad politics. it is all cult. all of it. our culture most of all. and this is the culture. this culture is of the same stinkness everyone is up in arms about. the behavior you watch your friend treat another and laugh instead of stop. the denouncement of others who are different from you, think and behave different from you and your clan, you backstab, joust stories and lies to validate your own smallness. it is all the same. there is no separation. and no one sees it. they are all railing against themselves, their identity, their source, form, mores and structure. they rail against the system they were born under and to. it is deep to me.
no one has done anything any body else hasnt done/doesnt do. some do it by bullets, some by cutlasses, some by words. most on the streets. some in their bedrooms, the corridors of their homes, which are often in a stink array, unclean, unkempt, piled up clothes, clean and filthy mixed together, and some do it in the boardrooms at clico, or in parliament that for some reason the myth exist is some place hallowed when from day one, it was only the same ilk and mix of the bane and the few who aspired to transcend into genteelness of a kind...but in some way shape or form, if you scratch enough the scabs fall off. masques. i guess as in the death of carnival, perhaps so the death and the falling off of all masques to anything other than the beasts and the filthy mud we see going pass the bay at sea lots. what is common here.
only here. i sit back and watch it all
here there and everywhere, including my own life passings
i wish there was a photograph sans any faces to depict what i am writing here. the shot of port of spain at night from ft george perhaps, and then another shot perhaps of sea lots when the tide is out. those two photos together, imagine. it is here.
there is a grand and gross irony going on here. perhaps many
what a few days ago was the rage against misogyny by a few, against a few.
is now a collective national hew, put across by all manner of disgusts and diatribe
and the culprit is not seen as a despicable human being, but as a woman first, so all references to --low p****y, and inhumanity is flowing, substantiated and condoned. the whole verbal nation. all the fb well to dos. the cliques. all one voice
but a few days before they were talking about women's care and proper protocol, which was a farce/ and i say a farce because this is how trinidad and trinidadians are. there is no where you dont see this behavior, fallout, eventuality. cross someone and they will cuss you 'stink'...i was actually thinking the other day is only here such a simple what used to be innocuous word became almost the worst thing my ears could hear: 'stink' . the way trinidadians pronounce that word, you all not from here would believe and people from here so accustomed hearing it they probably dont hear its vibration and the vituperation in which it is almost always uttered, given too, the context it is almost always used. not to describe the smell of something, but often to describe or extend a characteristic of a person.
i wrote and said for years before elections and politics took over trinidad with this pnm loss of 2010 and pp unc government subsequent, when people complained i was always amused because the politicians are none other than the people the citizens went to school with, the same prestige schools they all flock around...the cults. which is something i have been musing about in recent days, given the same debacle in the states and my own experiences in a sorority and taking it back to trinidad politics. it is all cult. all of it. our culture most of all. and this is the culture. this culture is of the same stinkness everyone is up in arms about. the behavior you watch your friend treat another and laugh instead of stop. the denouncement of others who are different from you, think and behave different from you and your clan, you backstab, joust stories and lies to validate your own smallness. it is all the same. there is no separation. and no one sees it. they are all railing against themselves, their identity, their source, form, mores and structure. they rail against the system they were born under and to. it is deep to me.
no one has done anything any body else hasnt done/doesnt do. some do it by bullets, some by cutlasses, some by words. most on the streets. some in their bedrooms, the corridors of their homes, which are often in a stink array, unclean, unkempt, piled up clothes, clean and filthy mixed together, and some do it in the boardrooms at clico, or in parliament that for some reason the myth exist is some place hallowed when from day one, it was only the same ilk and mix of the bane and the few who aspired to transcend into genteelness of a kind...but in some way shape or form, if you scratch enough the scabs fall off. masques. i guess as in the death of carnival, perhaps so the death and the falling off of all masques to anything other than the beasts and the filthy mud we see going pass the bay at sea lots. what is common here.
only here. i sit back and watch it all
here there and everywhere, including my own life passings
i wish there was a photograph sans any faces to depict what i am writing here. the shot of port of spain at night from ft george perhaps, and then another shot perhaps of sea lots when the tide is out. those two photos together, imagine. it is here.
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