It's Thursday today, and I'm meeting a friend for lunch. It's a lovely spring day and I'm in the mood for glamour, so I'm donning my new maxi dress (again), some huge sunnies, fab earrings and my MAC shimmer. Why the hell not, eh? I mean, yesterday was Budget Day and the Chancellor has fucked us in the arse, while stroking our shoulders, and people have totally fallen for it. I mean, people celebrating because he knocked 1p off a litre of petrol? Steups. All the retailers have done is put up their prices by 1p on Tuesday, so they can put them back down today. Some douchebags fail to realise that Unleaded is still £1.36 a litre and Diesel is £1.40. But whatevs. These nice days don't come along very often here, and my need to enjoy them comes along even less often. But just to be on the safe side, I'm stuffing my blazer into my Picadilly, for when the clouds inevitably roll in. But until then, I'll put on my happy face.
Thursday 24 March 2011
Friday 11 March 2011
Oh, woe is me!
I posted this on another blog I used to have in another life. It's something I wrote all the way back in 2005 or even in 2004, before I became all embittered and hateful. I only posted it on my blog in 2006 though. I missed Carnival at home this year, for the first time since 2007, and I was surprised at how hard it was. I really thought I was ready to stop playing mas and be a grown up. But it turns out that I know fuck all. I was ok at first, happy at how mature I was being and what not. But that was the calm before the storm. Things came to a head when I put on my Carnival DVDs, while I was down in the kitchen sorting out our lunch (kitchen telly ROCKS!). I'm clearly a masochist, but I thought I could handle it, like some sort of aversion therapy or something. Bad move. I ended up standing in my kitchen, knife in my hand, weeping at the fact that I wasn't going to be a part of the best thing in the world. Mr Bunny came in, and was like "What the fuck's happened? What's wrong with you?" Ah, his caring ways are why I married him. Anyway, down below is a decent explanation of why I feel the way I feel about Carnival. But instead of 2007, I'm aiming for 2012...finances and health permitting. There was a sort of happy ending to that though; I did play mas in 2007 and it was BRILLIANT! I came home feeling like I'd been through the wars, wearing one shoe and greasy as hell. But it was then that I knew playing mas was for me.
It's in my blood, it's in my veins. Cyah wash it off, I'm forever stained.
I wrote this ages ago, while I was still at home. Laziness has prevented me from posting it until now, but seeing as today is Carnival Monday in my country, and I’ve been listening to soca all day while feeling mighty homesick, I decided that today was an appropriate day to put it up. I’m back from home (ages ago!), but I’ve been otherwise engaged. Ah well… Here’s hoping I get back into my flow!
While on my flight home, I listened to about six hours worth of music. This was very lucky, as I thought my battery would only last for about thirty minutes. Anyway, it got me thinking about the part music plays in my life. I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember. I don’t know a single Trinidadian who doesn’t like music. It’s such an integral part of our culture and our being. We’re raised with music practically from the time we’re born. I was doing my hair yesterday, and my hair girl just had a baby. By the way, he is absolutely beautiful! Anyway, her mom was looking after him while she did my hair, and she kept dancing around with him, or bouncing him on her knee in time to the music. And I realised that this goes on in practically every home. I’ve seen pregnant women in parties, jumping up and carrying on, passing on the music to their babies. From Carnival to Christmas, people write a song about everything. All the proper calypsonians write social commentary about the state of the country. We took part in music festival every two years, and had school concerts. Music is as innate in us as breathing, or walking down the street. We even walk down the street to a rhythm!
But I digress. I was listening to all the songs I had on my mp3 player, and I realised that nearly every single song on there, brought back some memory or the other. When Girlfriend by Alicia Keys came on, my mind instantly went back to the time I spent living in France. I’d borrowed that CD off one of the guys living in my halls, and listened to it quite a lot. I liked it so much, I went out and bought a copy. Then there’s Africa, by D’Angelo. Once again, another song from my time in France. I played that a lot on a Saturday morning, before I went into town. It’s such an amazing and beautiful song. I listen to it, and I’m instantly transported back to Saturday mornings in Evires. Evires was the halls I lived in. I’m coming out of those horrible communal showers, back to my room, fearing I’ve picked up some horrible infection from one of the societal rejects that lived there. I’ve just washed my hair, and I’m drying it, while dancing to D’Angelo. We Need a Resolution by Aaliyah came on, and right away, I was back in my room in Spain, getting ready for work on a morning, or killing time in between classes. I bought that CD on one of my weekends back to England, and listened to that song over and over again. Whenever I hear Butterflies by Michael Jackson, I think of early morning or late at night, since I usually kept that song on loop overnight, to help me sleep. And when any soca song comes on, my pores begin to raise and I get all homesick and nostalgic.
I’m back in town on Carnival Monday or Tuesday. My band is crossing the savannah stage. My section is waiting to go on, and we’re all pumped up and rearing to go. The security men are holding us back, waiting until they get the all clear from the stage managers. The music band on the truck next to us is getting us really worked up, and we’re practically going mad. I’m with my friends, Delise, Nikki (even though they were playing in another section, they crashed ours), Solo, and Christianne. Then, suddenly the security men break links, and let us on stage. They were singing Stampede, and it really was like a stampede. Those ten minutes we were on stage were like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life, before or since. The feeling is totally indescribable. Saying it was amazing is not nearly enough. You feel euphoric. You’re running and dancing and jumping and wining across that stage. You’re laughing and shouting at your friends and singing along to the song. You know you look good in your costume, and you feel like some sort of goddess. Some man has come behind you, and is wining and grinding on you like there is no tomorrow. You don’t know who he is, but you wine back on him. Another man might come from the front, and suddenly you’re in a “you” sandwich. But you don’t care. You might even raise up your leg and throw your head back, and get totally lost in the moment, because you never know how long it will last. They could stay there wining with you for a few minutes, or get bored after ten seconds and move on to someone else. Either way, you love it. You might lose a piece of your costume in all the melee, but that’s inconsequential. The entire year has led up to this point. You’re on the savannah stage for fuck’s sake!! I swear to God, I am playing mas in 2007, if I have to sell my body on street corners to pay for it. That may take some doing, as I don’t think anyone will really pay for my body, but if needs must… All I have to do is hear that bull horn and the opening bars of “Toro Toro” and I know I have to be there, come what may.
Like I said, I also find it very hard to sleep in silence, so I always have a radio on, keeping me company. While I was growing up, it was Music Radio 97, which plays adult contemporary and older music. Of course, growing up black in the Caribbean, this wasn’t appreciated by my sisters or brother or most of my friends. They were all heavily into dub (dancehall) and hip-hop. It was all you hear out in the clubs and stuff, and people might mock you or look at you strangely if you mentioned that you liked Al Green or knew the words to Midnight at the Oasis. I rather liked hip-hop myself, but didn’t feel the need to be bound into listening to only one kind of music. So I listened to all sorts, and I still do now. It makes me feel free, which I guess is a bit cheesy. But it’s true. Music is probably the only thing I really and truly enjoy. One of my most favourite things to do in the world is drive around in my shitty little car, listening to music. It’s great. Sigh!
So now I download my music from the internet, legally of course. I love it because I’ve been able to find all the songs that no one here has ever heard of, and freak them out by playing it really loud in my car. My latest additions have been Les Fleur by Minnie Ripperton and This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush. Two absolutely beautiful songs, that bring back amazing memories. Let the good times roll!!
It's in my blood, it's in my veins. Cyah wash it off, I'm forever stained.
I wrote this ages ago, while I was still at home. Laziness has prevented me from posting it until now, but seeing as today is Carnival Monday in my country, and I’ve been listening to soca all day while feeling mighty homesick, I decided that today was an appropriate day to put it up. I’m back from home (ages ago!), but I’ve been otherwise engaged. Ah well… Here’s hoping I get back into my flow!
While on my flight home, I listened to about six hours worth of music. This was very lucky, as I thought my battery would only last for about thirty minutes. Anyway, it got me thinking about the part music plays in my life. I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember. I don’t know a single Trinidadian who doesn’t like music. It’s such an integral part of our culture and our being. We’re raised with music practically from the time we’re born. I was doing my hair yesterday, and my hair girl just had a baby. By the way, he is absolutely beautiful! Anyway, her mom was looking after him while she did my hair, and she kept dancing around with him, or bouncing him on her knee in time to the music. And I realised that this goes on in practically every home. I’ve seen pregnant women in parties, jumping up and carrying on, passing on the music to their babies. From Carnival to Christmas, people write a song about everything. All the proper calypsonians write social commentary about the state of the country. We took part in music festival every two years, and had school concerts. Music is as innate in us as breathing, or walking down the street. We even walk down the street to a rhythm!
But I digress. I was listening to all the songs I had on my mp3 player, and I realised that nearly every single song on there, brought back some memory or the other. When Girlfriend by Alicia Keys came on, my mind instantly went back to the time I spent living in France. I’d borrowed that CD off one of the guys living in my halls, and listened to it quite a lot. I liked it so much, I went out and bought a copy. Then there’s Africa, by D’Angelo. Once again, another song from my time in France. I played that a lot on a Saturday morning, before I went into town. It’s such an amazing and beautiful song. I listen to it, and I’m instantly transported back to Saturday mornings in Evires. Evires was the halls I lived in. I’m coming out of those horrible communal showers, back to my room, fearing I’ve picked up some horrible infection from one of the societal rejects that lived there. I’ve just washed my hair, and I’m drying it, while dancing to D’Angelo. We Need a Resolution by Aaliyah came on, and right away, I was back in my room in Spain, getting ready for work on a morning, or killing time in between classes. I bought that CD on one of my weekends back to England, and listened to that song over and over again. Whenever I hear Butterflies by Michael Jackson, I think of early morning or late at night, since I usually kept that song on loop overnight, to help me sleep. And when any soca song comes on, my pores begin to raise and I get all homesick and nostalgic.
I’m back in town on Carnival Monday or Tuesday. My band is crossing the savannah stage. My section is waiting to go on, and we’re all pumped up and rearing to go. The security men are holding us back, waiting until they get the all clear from the stage managers. The music band on the truck next to us is getting us really worked up, and we’re practically going mad. I’m with my friends, Delise, Nikki (even though they were playing in another section, they crashed ours), Solo, and Christianne. Then, suddenly the security men break links, and let us on stage. They were singing Stampede, and it really was like a stampede. Those ten minutes we were on stage were like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life, before or since. The feeling is totally indescribable. Saying it was amazing is not nearly enough. You feel euphoric. You’re running and dancing and jumping and wining across that stage. You’re laughing and shouting at your friends and singing along to the song. You know you look good in your costume, and you feel like some sort of goddess. Some man has come behind you, and is wining and grinding on you like there is no tomorrow. You don’t know who he is, but you wine back on him. Another man might come from the front, and suddenly you’re in a “you” sandwich. But you don’t care. You might even raise up your leg and throw your head back, and get totally lost in the moment, because you never know how long it will last. They could stay there wining with you for a few minutes, or get bored after ten seconds and move on to someone else. Either way, you love it. You might lose a piece of your costume in all the melee, but that’s inconsequential. The entire year has led up to this point. You’re on the savannah stage for fuck’s sake!! I swear to God, I am playing mas in 2007, if I have to sell my body on street corners to pay for it. That may take some doing, as I don’t think anyone will really pay for my body, but if needs must… All I have to do is hear that bull horn and the opening bars of “Toro Toro” and I know I have to be there, come what may.
Like I said, I also find it very hard to sleep in silence, so I always have a radio on, keeping me company. While I was growing up, it was Music Radio 97, which plays adult contemporary and older music. Of course, growing up black in the Caribbean, this wasn’t appreciated by my sisters or brother or most of my friends. They were all heavily into dub (dancehall) and hip-hop. It was all you hear out in the clubs and stuff, and people might mock you or look at you strangely if you mentioned that you liked Al Green or knew the words to Midnight at the Oasis. I rather liked hip-hop myself, but didn’t feel the need to be bound into listening to only one kind of music. So I listened to all sorts, and I still do now. It makes me feel free, which I guess is a bit cheesy. But it’s true. Music is probably the only thing I really and truly enjoy. One of my most favourite things to do in the world is drive around in my shitty little car, listening to music. It’s great. Sigh!
So now I download my music from the internet, legally of course. I love it because I’ve been able to find all the songs that no one here has ever heard of, and freak them out by playing it really loud in my car. My latest additions have been Les Fleur by Minnie Ripperton and This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush. Two absolutely beautiful songs, that bring back amazing memories. Let the good times roll!!
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