Down low

I feel a bit down today - not even sure why; I think it's partly because of this message from Sofie this morning - it kinda upset me. I may be over reacting here but the tone of the message just did not sit well with me. Perhaps there are other underlying factors; like insufficent sleeo, don't know cant't really put my finger on it - but I think mainly it's because of that message or how I perceived it; it came of a bit dismissive, when I honestly did not feel what I said prior warranted the tone of the message. Oh well such is life...right now I feel like being home in my bed just wallowing...probably had it not been for the fact that J is at school; home is exactly where I would be right now.

Lent vs Carnival...

I had mentally penned a rant about the latest and most preposterous notion that carnival should be moved back to it's pre-lent time in any effort to make the faithful be more aware, and some how bring about respect for the observance of the lentan period; but my aoringal train of thought had since been derailed; but I am still sufficiently incense by the proposition that I feel incline to document my outrage. I have a few succinct and choiced words for the proponents of this notion/discussion; fucking poppycock, bullshit, hogwash, fokry - and in the local palance shate.

The idea that lent and carnival are ostensibly appendages is to say the least not logical not remotely grounded in reason. What to me makes more sense - I would like to think from a reasonable perspective (being mine) that if you are one of the faithful - fervent in your catholic of religious belief, you would not require the end of what many have deemed a pagan celebration to usher in or remind you of this most holy a repentful period - a pillar of your faith. To say that premise is asinine would to me be an under statement.

Further to add insult to injury (and the foolishness of this argument continues); is the demand by the faithful and self proclaimed christians that people (in a secular society) respect the lentan celebration. Hold on, has any one disrespected lent, has anyone said do not celebrate lent or move lent - what de ass. So what of respecting the people who do not observe lent; what of the non-believers - carnival was moved, what de ass; you'll to godly to care about the bachannal, why you'll want it closer to you'll holidom.

I think it's time people start exercise their grey matter, stop talking and repeating shit and above all else truly start to respect people right to be individuals and not conform blindly to dogma. I don't bother you when you eating your fish and praying - leave me alone when I drinking my rum and wining...Amen!

Rum...

I’m digging this new song by Machel Montano right now – Bottle of Rum...it’s catchy, fun and I can identify some what...especially the lines “...no need to wine on me in de party, I’m already drunk...I love me rum and me rum it love me...sober overrated...” But I had a flashback...well at least fragments of a flashback from my last episode with this vixen called rum aka alcohol (note how I ascribed a sex of female orientation to this enjoyable yet bothersome spirit – ostensibly most things which cause some angst in my life are of a female persuasion, sigh, can’t help but love to hate them sometimes; but I digress, back to topic).


I enjoy a good drink, but I can’t very well be in love with something that when we get so intensely involved with it leaves me with shards of memory; and multiple what the fuck moments aka Steve Urkel moments; you know that moment when an event flashes back in your minds eye and you go, what the fuck! Did I do that?...Without fail every time I have one of those alcohol induced what the fuck moments I say to myself I am not drinking any more – but invariably that seems to translate later down in the not to distant future as “I will not drink anymore than I drank the last time...” which by drink number X I can’t remember how many drinks I had the last time. It’s a fucking vicious cycle I tell you. On the bright side I don’t have what the fuck moments every day, or every other day – just random weekends.

So I had a what the fuck moment sometime on Monday when I had a brief flashback of drinking a flaming Sambvua on Saturday – what the fuck was I thinking; shit I wasn’t my brain cells had been disabled – those motherfuckers went off line by the fourth drink of my mixed poison. My what the fuck moment was upon realization that I had apparently burnt myself on the hand – then it all came back, in a hot flaming flash. I lit the drink; tried to blow it out but instead only succeeded in catching my hand on fire – but that wasn’t the kicker believe it or not – I stood there in amazement watching my hand aflame because it reminded me of Ghostrider, yes yes yes  – you know that Nicholas Cage movie; I was in awe at my flaming hand; fucking idiot. Like seriously, what the fuck was I thinking; oh yes I wasn’t.


In the words of my colleague the prophet Haggai – rum glorious rum, when I call yuh yuh bong to come...except I think this time around rum did the calling, I did the coming and my brain left...rum

Failure is not an option

It is either that I am getting numb to the feeling that follows failure - having experienced it too many times; or I have come to terms with the fact that it is a nromal part of life; yet another hurdle in this tumultuous existence that I must muster the fortitude to overcome.

Alas, I must confess I feel some what defeated, broken, down to my knees - worn from the battle scars; resigned to surrender. This battle has taken much from my - like wars of old, it has depleted me - left me questioning my resolve to press on; question my decision to trek down this path in the first place. As the battle wanes, the end in sight, the strength to carry on is fleeting - tenacity is the last leg on which I stand - faith gives me courage; to know that I am not given more than I can bare - and the knowledge that I am not in this alone.

Yes, failure is but another hurdle, a stumbling block to success, and as long as I do not succumb to the repeated pummelling of the agents of failure I have already succeeded. My destiny is mine and will not be taken from me; nor will it be determine by any force out side of me - success is mine.

Cob webs

Why do I find my self pre-occupied with thoughts of having no thoughts worthy of gracing this page...I long for a muse; a healthy distraction to jolt my brain back into functionality. My cerebral cortex has been having a Rip Van Winkle moment for too long and it bothers me...I need a jump start...some one help.

Small death

Beautiful, simply beautiful the way your body quivers beneath me
Sound muted...no clemancy from pleasure mixed sweetly with pain
Skin flushed with ecstasy, shades of sensual euphoria
Eyes wide shut, taken in everything, seeing nothing
Involuntary utterances of a crescendo of profanity on the cusp of la petite la mort

Sleepless in Desablon 1

It's been a while since I've been here, but I return reluctantly at the call of the witching hour - the glow of the screen the sound of my fingers striking every key. Once again slumber has abandoned me; but like many unpleasant things in my life I have grown use to the experience and it no longer vexes me. I'll be here till it;s ready again to drop in and say hello.

But it serves a purpose, a purpose of which at this moment is unclear, but a purpose all the same. Perhaps it is to tell me that it is time for a return to a different side of me, a side where I continue along my path of growth, learning, writing - back to my path of enlightenment. A new day dawns, as does the new year and it is time I rediscover me...