Noodle

It’s not just that I loved this album, and it was part of my steady soundtrack from April 2005 to December of the same year, and hence, part of the soundtrack leading up to Dayo’s conception.

This song in particular was one of my “keep pushing” tracks, and contributed greatly to Gorillaz still being in my Top Twenty artists on last.fm.

I love the video too–as I do almost all Gorillaz videos–with all it’s little subversive touches, Noodle shaking her pen and ink little butt, and Murdock’s scary dream within a dream.

This track remains high up on my list of ‘keep pushing baby’ tracks…. I just need a new iPod now, and enough distance to travel to justify spending the money. Read more…

As I type, the little boy who was made in South London is clambering across the back of my chair, and talking into my ear and nuzzling my neck. Off to find more mischief…

As I look at the photo above, taken not far from where I first stayed when I moved to England — North Greenwich — my heart aches for the beautiful city I loved living in.

I LOVED London. I loved everything about it, even the grind and the harsh reality of it, I loved my life there. In London, I was more me than I have ever been, and every day I have been in Barbados has been a day deep inside, I wished I was still there.

Go visit the gallery, the photos are amazing…

I’ve come up to London for the day. My cousin’s girlfriend works in London and she stayed the night last night and brought me up this morning.

Plenty cheaper and well, I got into London at 7.30am this morning.

She parked her car near her house, and we ran for ten minutes to the train station so we could get the train on time. It was quite funny.

I got into Waterloo Station, and spent a frustrating fifteen minutes trying to call a friend of bluey’s who said he’d help me if I needed a place to stay.

I couldn’t get through. So I called the very lovely likewise instead. likewise–who is a Londoner by all accounts–and I met up for a coffee and ciggies near Waterloo Station this foine, er, afternoon.

The first thing she said to me was, “I thought you were going to be taller.”

I had to admit it, “I am a smurf.”

And I am, for anyone else who is wondering, I am five foot two and a half inches tall. Although, I’m told that I give off an illusion of height.

“Well you’re wearing blue, so that fits in. Smurfs are blue.”

However, I felt I had to point out I was wearing pink, having abandoned myself to London’s pink madness. Only my Levi’s jacket was blue. (That led to a whole side discussion by itself.

We walked down to the river side, very near where she works, and we chatted for almost an hour and a half, sipped coffee and she rolled her cigarettes (quite proficiently might I add) while I just whipped them out of the Richmond Kings packet.

She is my kind of people. I’m supposed to crash at her pad tonight, because I can’t get a ride back into Kent tonight. My cousin’s girlfriend isn’t going back, and well

I walked her back to her office building, then made my way back to Waterloo.

Earlier, in the day I got a phonecall from Wildegirl, one of my Tribers (never mind her ‘lurker’ status)and we talked on the phone while I sat in Green Park.

She told me about this West Indian lime tonight (I don’t know where) and invited me to come. I readily accepted, because you know, up here you need to connect with your people however vicariously.

While I was heading back down into the Waterloo tube station, I got a call from this guy who has a printery around Aylesford, in Kent where I am staying.

I called him after pulling off an ad for an ‘Experienced Mackintosh Operator’ from a Jobpoint in a JobCentre in Maidstone on Monday.

He said I should call back today and he would let me know about an interview. Except, I clean forgot about it when I took off into London this morning. I’ve had cabin fever and have been most eager to get out of Kent and you know, connect with someone.

I thought he’d forget about me. He didn’t.

“So what can I tell you about a job?” He asked.

I was falbbergasted. “I’d love for you to tell me something about a job!”

So we set up an interview for tomorrow! So there you go. I’m currently researching how to get to his location via Kent’s expensive ass bus system.

Then Wildegirl is going to come downstairs in a minute and fetch me (I believe I am in the basement in the computer room) and we’re off to this lime full of West Indians!!

How can this day get better? Unless there’s a divine man I can flirt with at this lime and dazzle with my wit and intelligence. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Wildegirl even made me dinner. I’ve been wandering around London today with ten pounds in my pocket, which will not get me back to Kent and to this job interview tomorrow. However, I know something will work out.

I’m going to get there if I have to walk from the train station.

I’m feeling better. See what JS Love and Tribe Love can do?

SPEAKEASY
Monday 5th June (and on the first Monday of every month thereafter)
Doors open at 7, show starts 7.30 sharp
Marie Lloyd Bar – 289 Mare Street (next to Hackney Empire) London E8 1EJ
FREE
—

SPEAKEASY RELOADED: T’Bone Promotions present the re-launch of “SPEAKEASY,” north London’s premier poetry and
spoken word event

The centrepiece of this month’s relaunch at this revamped venue is a special, one-hour showcase featuring Arts Foundation nominee Zena Edwards, with her inimitable blend of poetry, music and song. The Warrior Princess of the Spoken Word scene teams up with Henrik Jenses (bass), Moss Velez (percussion & pan pipes), plus vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Randolph Matthews. Together, they are Trouba.

Special guests: young gun Yemisi Blake and rapidly rising star Julia Hendricks, Ian “Hasty Orisons” Cameron, Donal Dempsey, Alex Josephy and Geoff Parker

Getting there: nearest tube Bethnal Green; BR Hackney CentralBuses D6, 26, 30, 38, 48, 106, 236, 242, 253, 276 and 277

Info: T’Bone Promotions (Baden): 07946 776 952

Today, I found yet again the depths of the wickedness I have endured at the hands of monilove and preciousc.

I’ve cried no tears over it. The things they’ve chosen to destroy are things that can be replaced. I shed no tears when I confronted either one of them either, and in fact, it’s one of the few confrontations I have had with people who push me over the line, where I was perfectly articulate and where my anger overwhelmed my sense of loss or hurt over the situation. In short, when it really hurts I cry. When I am blue fucking vex, and righteously so, I never cry. And I didn’t shed a tear for either of those two snakes. When a snake bites you, you suck out the fucking poison, oui?

I don’t even know which one of them took something sharp and destroyed my Star Wars Trilogy, my copy of Finding Nemo… who took a pen knife and went through my copies of Song of Susannah and The Dark Tower, and cut pages out. I am quite sure it was monilove who stole my copy of “Love Actually” and who’s to guess which one took the first DVD in my extended version of Lord of The Rings.

The point is, in addition to fucking me over to the tune of about £1000… I can add that which ever one it was that took the knife and did this, is a sick twisted individual. This is a person who has some deep seated issues. Shades of “Single White Female” anyone? Can anyone say Bunny Boiler? There’s an almost sexual fetishistic perversion in it.

As my brother pointed out to me, “This is the act of a jilted lover.”

Whatever it was, who ever it was, monilove or preciousc, both of them are guilty. It could be that one did it and the other one watched and laughed. It could be that one of them did it hiding from the other… they’re both guilty because they enabled each other. And no matter which way you slice it, cut it, dice it… no matter which way you look at it, the act of destroying my possessions in that sinister way, hacking and slicing at it, kind of indicates to me that it was a way of slicing and hacking at me because my physical body wasn’t there for it to be done to. Does it strike more than just me that that is a kind of twisted mental person that would do that.

I search my mind, search my past experience with both these girls and wonder what I could have possibly done to incur that kind of low, classless, sociopathic, slightly psychotic behaviour. Okay, maybe it could have happened when I cuss they ass coming and going. I had to though, I RARELY lose my temper sufficiently to cuss someone out to their faces. It’s also only when I’ve been seriously wronged. So I called you a deceitful, dishonest, duplicitous betrayer of people you call friend? How are you going to give me evidence like bills, leases, council tax and destroyed DVDs, CDs, books? To prove it. To prove that you are selfish users and abusers?

The thing I find personally amusing under my anger, is how this was supposed to hurt me. These things that were destroyed, were my favourites. Books and movies I loved. Like I haven’t bought the same books, wouldn’t buy the same DVDs over and over again. I wonder how many times I have bought music or books not once, but up to four times, because I loaned them out and never got them back; because they were stolen from me or destroyed by someone irate and irrational. And didn’t I get it all back and better? So what was the scratching and slicing really meant to give them? Some satisfaction? What kind of need does that kind of satisfaction requires.

I try to see if I did anything other than help both of them. Because surely there must be something about me that really pisses them off, to even get to that point. I am not without my faults, mates. I am a bit of an intellectual snob. I know this, and accept it about myself. Trust me, some of the stupid motherfuckers one comes across in daily living, sometimes one really has to reserve some kind of pride in being able to think for myself and reflect some kind of gratitude for being fortunate in my non-standard education.

I search to see what I am guilty for in this situation and I see it before me clearly. I am guilty of two things. The first, I am too naive. I am too trusting. I do not understand why I am still this way after being screwed over by so many people for exactly that reason. Maybe it’s because all that about seeing the good in the human race, and in the people I encounter often leads me to give others the benefit of the doubt, even when they don’t deserve it.

The second is that I do too many favours. I give and give and give, share my things freely. Shit like scratching up someone’s shit wouldn’t even occur to me. I might want to fuck someone up, but I won’t do it, because I think karma is fucked up… so I will tell you how I feel, but to hurt you.

And these were two women I had made sacrifices for without thinking, more than once.

So funny… just things.

I went to the doctor this morning, hoping for a little check up.

They in fact sent me back to London College University Hospital again for another ultrasound.

On the way there, ya girl almost pitch over in Oxford Circus, and chile… vomit, vomit, vomit… one set ah bile just upchuck… it was disgusting! AWFUL!

Fortunately, a traffic cop was standing right next to me, and he came around and took care of me. I didn’t think I could walk, and had to sit down right there on the pavement.

He called an ambulance, but they wanted to take me to some other hospital’s Accident and Emergency, and what were they going to tell me? That I was pregnant and had morning sickness.

I was already on the way to the hospital for the scan.

So I made it there, and was only ten minutes late (a small miracle considering the delay in Oxford Circus).

One of my friends came down and met me there, and we sat down and talked while I was waiting to be seen.

It was just so good to have someone there, because apart from feeling sick, I was worried about the baby after my little adventure in grocery shopping on Saturday and the extra blood.

So they scanned me eventually… and they finally saw where the blood was coming from, but told me it wasn’t serious, the baby wasn’t in danger…. no sign of a miscarriage.

Of course, I was relieved. I saw him on screen. He’s BIGGER! Like he has a head, and SHAPE! And I saw his heartbeat much clearer this week. It was like a little race car… beating so fast. Aw man, I was amazed… awed that it was happening in my belly, and you know…. I was just so relieved that the baby is developing okay.

I was warned that the plane ride home might increase the amount of blood I’m discharging, because of the pressure in the cabin during flight. However, the doctor said she couldn’t tell me not to fly, because clearly going home was the best thing for me. She told me just make sure I walk with enough padding, and just take it easy and not panic. She also said as soon as I go home go to see another doctor so I can get enough pre-natal care.

:sigh: I’m just glad the baby is okay…

I think one of the reasons I’m so tired, is because I’ve been bleeding for almost a month straight, and… well yeah, ah pregnant too.

My friend got me home, and then went out and got some food for me which I deeply appreciated, because my non-eating, lack of appetite and inhibitions about eating the food of the people here where I am staying, has not made for a healthy diet last week. The fruit run on Saturday, although fraught with pressure, has improved the situation. Fruit is for the most part all I can safely keep down.

Like I said, Angels are all around me right now.

Point is, all is well today.

I just had a really wonderful dream.

I had gotten off the plane in Barbados, and I was sad and upset. My mother was there and she embraced me and kissed me and told me not to worry that everything was going to be okay.

After about a week or so in Barbados, my mother said, alright enough of this moping, we’re going on a little holiday.

She didn’t tell me where we were going until we were at the airport, but my brother came with us as well.

In the dream, I remember looking out of the window and flying over a city with a huge river running through it, but we didn’t land there.

When we emerged from the plane we were in Ghana, Africa.

My mother had booked a house for us on the beach… it was kind of interesting, yet another manifestation of my Dos Aguas in my dreams.

The house was kind of on a isthmus, and there was a fresh water river running outside of the house… you crossed a bridge, and then you were on the beach with the marvellous sea beyond.

The house, was part of a kind of resort run by a European man who had settled in Ghana.

We were there for one night, when Ms. G and her daughter A showed up.

The house was huge, with loads of rooms, and I wandered around and found my mother taking a nap in one, and my brother watching TV in another.

Ms. G and I sat on the back verandah and talked.

Then I woke up…

I think everything is going to be okay….

Okay, so I’ve been freaking out a little.

I’m trying to keep my head together, rather than devolve into tears at every turn.

I can’t help myself sometimes; the tears do come, but I don’t let them or fear take me over too much.

I am trying not to worry myself into an ulcer.

Today, my cousin went to court or something. They (and it’s an amorphous ‘they’ at that) are threatening to take away her house.

She doesn’t have enough money to renew her road tax for her car (£40), but last weekend managed to buy her daughter a £50 camera phone, after said daughter blatantly and willfully manipulated my cousin into doing so. Chile, meh never see nutten so. If it was my mother, after the second whine she would’ve cussed me and told me ‘that’s that’. And it usually was. But I witnessed it, and couldn’t believe it. The child (the girl) does no dishes, no laundry, does not do any chores that I can see.

See, part of the thing is, my cousin could be me. I could be her. If I had made different choices I could be where she is.

Personally, I don’t understand why she won’t go and get a job. She’s a registered nurse for God’s sake!

So, I’ve been in deep observation, because when she takes pot shots at me, I say nothing or very little and this is probably why I’m having stomach problems. I have sat back and watched this woman’s wretched life, and the thing is, she’s always moaning about ‘Why does my life have to be like this?” or “Why can’t I find anything?”

It’s always at the tip of my tongue to say, “Your life is like this, because you keep making fucked up choices and not learning from your mistakes.”

or

“You can’t find anything because this house is filthy and disorganised.”

But I never do, because more than once I couldn’t help myself, my grandmother and mother’s training came out of my mouth and I corrected her daughter a couple of times, and she (the cousin) looks at me, then rushes in to defend the kid, although, what the child was doing was clearly against all I had been taught to do. How can you give a child what you yourself don’t have?

:sigh:

So I keep my mouth shut. I also refuse to go crazy and clean the house from top to bottom, although it’s an urge I’ve had to suppress more than once. I won’t do it, because it’s not my job to save these people. Is it?

I do what I can, when I can, with what I can, right?

I doan business with that. Besides, even if I did set the house to rights, the fundamental ‘home training’ is missing and within days all will revert to filth and squallor.

So I am pissed off with my cousin, because I can’t believe she’s such a cop out. It’s like she doesn’t even what to take responsibility for herself.

Chile, I could tell stories.

Thank God for my dead tree journal. I’ve been pouring my frustrations into it, and well, there’s no one hour limit on access to it, so the posts there are longer and more detailed.

I am trying to get into London over the weekend.

Don’t know how I’m getting the money just yet, but there’s a London-based Santeria group meeting (casually, not for ritual or prayers per se) and I want to be there.

Besides, two of the best friends I’ve made since I’ve been in England are going to help me with a White Bath. To settle the energies around me, to bring clarity etc.

All I’m trying to do is keep holding on to my faith, and every morning, every night I pray for deliverance from all this, and for my living in England to begin.

I just don’t think I have it in me to give up.

Much love to Prettytrini for the donation to the cause. That’ll go to getting Tribe back alive….

Keep those prayers and good thoughts coming. Trying to keep my own negative thoughts at bay. Don’t want those negative thought forms to get too much shape.

It’s a few hours away from 2006 here in London, and I am taking stock of 2005 like so many people.

I don’t want to do a wrap-up of the year, much of what happened was blogged anyway. Yet, I feel as though this year I left something behind; something I was glad to leave behind. I believe it was the feeling that I didn’t deserve happiness…. that joy would never be mine.

I don’t know if I can articulate precisely what it is that I have left behind, but it definitely is fading away… shrinking into the distance between me and it. And this is a good thing. Whatever struggles this year brought me, disappointments and frustrations, I think that things have improved.

I have sustained myself one way or another for most of this year. I managed to keep afloat with a lot of help from kind people along the way, and although nearly every day brought worry that I wouldn’t get through to the next one… prayers and faith have sustained me. I suppose you can’t really ask for more than that.

I have made new friends, and I had to say goodbye to old ones. Some people reappeared at moments I needed them the most and gave their help and love wholeheartedly and without reservation. Other people I trusted and gave unselfishly to, disappeared when I needed them most and tried to steal my thunder, steal my joy.

I had to learn not to trust some people so explicitly and implicitly, and yet again I marvel at my Orisha horoscopes accuracy for this month.

Let me recap:

Ochun reminds you that you’re a person full of flaws and shortcomings, but also teeming with virtues. Being an excellent friend is one of them. Your feelings will be badly hurt because a close friend of yours is going to betray you. This will teach you a lesson about being more careful and less open for the coming year. Your guarding Orisha says you shouldn’t be sad because you aren’t the one who faltered. You were betrayed, so you must be at ease with yourself.

I have endured those betrayals, been surviving ongoing spiritual warfare and the abject selfishness, jealousy and self absorption of others, and had to learn to value myself more than that and not sink into the morass of other people’s mediocrity. I also learnt to stay true to myself and not surrender to helplessness, not to give in to anger. I also had to learn to trust again as well…. just to begin to chose better who I trust.

When I examine my actions over this last year, I feel that while some choices didn’t lead to everything I wanted, I acted with dignity and honour in everything and for that I am grateful. Grateful at least my character didn’t buckle under pressure.

In many ways I feel as though I have been rewarded.

This was a year I was surrounded and wrapped up in music… from January 1 to December 31 this was a year of MUSIC!! And I reveled in it… absolutely wallowed in the pleasure I derived from the music I have stored. I returned to the land of iPod and regret nothing.

I found love… real love for the first time in many, many years and that makes up for all the trifling bullshit I’ve had to put up with…. takes the sting out of some disappointments, soothes a hell of a lot of my frustrations. I don’t know what’s going to happen with this relationship, and we’re approaching an event horizon he and I, but I feel blessed, blessed to have had this time with him and have taken pleasure in loving someone again after so long. I also feel blessed to be in a position to consider a future with this man… a long future.

I thought it was a productive year. I got a lot done, made progress no matter how halting and I am in love; loved in return and moving forward head held high into a new year… knowing this year was a year I moved FORWARD inexorably!

Happy New Year ya’ll.

I know I haven’t been posting much this week, but some ass in this department mentioned to my line manager that I was surfing the net, and wondered if they didn’t have enough work for me to do. Hence, I have been busting my chops and resisting all urges to blog (some hard shit to do lemme tell ya).

My friends who know me are going to laugh when I tell them this, but I think I have a little crush on this Aussie guy who’s sometimes on the train to and from work. We have the same taste in movies, and we always seem to talk non-stop when we see each other.

He was the nice guy who paid my ticket for me the Friday night of my first week at this job.

Nice fella, but you know I don’t know if he likes me or not. Although he did give me a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day.

I’m sitting here on a fairly dull Friday afternoon, a little amazed that it’s been a month since I started working here.