Pilachi_Sketch [ BLOG ]

Finally taking the time [and mustering the courage] to go through my mother’s belongings [almost two years after her death]–specifically her personal archive of memories–I have found answers to questions that I have searched for [all my life, and most recently], by publicly flogging myself while parading way too much dirty laundry in public. [blogging reference]

Now, i have found–through very detailed descriptions and supporting evidence–every single thing that my mother experienced since her earliest recollections [including her own personal report cards from the 1950's]. Her records of names, dates, places, emotional responses, circumstances and doses are impeccable.

In addition to revealing in detail every circumstance pertaining to the “treatment” of her mental health, and my father’s involvement therein, I found a few very positive gems. One such gem, is the story that she was reading to me, at the time that we left her. [also in that particular parcel, was the packaging from the snack we were having at that particular moment, and a list of priorities that we outlined at the same time.]

Most significant of these gems to the reflection in this moment, is the story that I found, and its incredible relevance today; it is called “the hundredth smurf.” Read more

I now realize, good or bad… however my perception sways, I am my mother’s child. The sketch of hers shown below, is almost 30 year old; this process to her was, as this process is to me, a tool to self motivate and to prioritize emotions for action:

At age 3, in the year that we left our mother, she asked us–in a vain effort to engender hope–to make a list of the things that we needed, wanted or would [have] like[d] to have [had].

To her credit… my mother kept everything, carefully stored, catalogued and archived. [hence my retrieval of the mint condition, 27 year old sheet of notebook paper below].

This was my list of priorities. I feel the blood draining from my skin as I think about how vividly I remember that time.

God how I wish I could have made those days easier for her. Read more

It is increasingly clear to me that a stock blog layout is no longer the way to go for me… it was fun in its early incarnation as an experiment with Ruby on Rails… however it is pushing the “ugh” factor when I see this modified template applied to formal “corporate / professional” entities trying to make a quick buck on the internet tip.

It makes my skin crawl.

In a fleeting moment of ponder, sin was averted and obsession was born.

On an Albuquerque afternoon, in a purple sun island t-shirt, surrounded by fresas with flag tags on their matching suitcases, he thought that he was sentenced to his own personal hell. Then–as he would later learn was the signifier of his deep seated obsession–he met her; the one who he knew could never love him despite her best efforts to the contrary, in 8 months of purgatory, eclipsed only by a water fight over backpacks and pert nipples through sun drenched fabric. He knew she could never love him, because he knew her before she did; and that was his cross to bear. Read more

I am neither American, nor politically motivated; however–this is incredible!!!

I am proud to say… this is a small world… we are all here to fix it… and if I know that I am connected to at least four people in this video through 1 degree of separation… then what is to stop me from trying to impact positive change in my own homeland: JAMAICA?

We can do it too… we can bring about the necessary change. Enough of the bullshit already; let us be about people… and fix what we can.

Thanks to Uncle Norman for sending this to me.

Having made the effort to break the ten year dry spell, I went out and bought paper yesterday–a very expensive undertaking–but you can’t put a price on love.

A series of things brought this influx of wild untamed emotions back… listening to “fumbling towards ecstacy” again… tremendous emotional upheaval brought on by the time in Ghana… efforts to love me again… a dance troupe called Lalala Human Steps… and a very engrossing and interactive conversation with two women of ilk.

Now I cannot get their imaginings out of my musing; and I wake up having women of ilk for breakfast. That was figurative. Read more

Ten years ago, after a bitter fight with my father, I stopped painting and drawing entirely. Ok… so I had 4 or so interludes with difficult emotions thereafter, leading to a few bastard [paintings]; but none was a pure reflection. For ten years, my heart lay dormant… and now, it is back with a vengeance.

Awaken, Chalk Pastels on Paper 1998

This was the last official drawing / painting that I did in 1998. It was one in a series of three, that my then architect-girlfriend thought was her. It was not. This is an image of an exquisite Mexican young lady–senorita palofax–who for a brief moment in my recollection, danced in the glorious embrace of a sun basked sprinkler in Cuba, while we waited to hear Silvio Rodriques perform. She was one of my wonderful counter-cohorts without contact. Intimacy sin sin.

“Te molesta mi amor? mi amor de joventud?…” - Silvio Rodriguez

I am happy to say ‘mi Unicornio Azul’ is back, horn intact and kicking like a mule.

Ok… so I am making a sincere effort to come out [of my shell] again. It is exhilarating, frustrating, and every other -ating thing that you can think of. It is coupled with anger, shame, rage, frustration [I said that already], disappointment, and of course mis-understanding; nevertheless it is absolutely worth it… and I recommend it for everyone who is emotionally conflicted. I will warn you though, it is a lonely road to travel… then you find a community of like minded people who will embrace and support you and keep all of your innermost turmoil at peace in their hearts, minds, arms and souls. To this end, we celebrate.

Happy Love Day to you,

Happy Love Day to you,

Happy Love Day, all and sundry…

Happy Love Day to you.