Hmmm...

"We live in deeds, not years: In thoughts not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best."
~ Aristotle 

Word-Soul-Redbones Edition II

OMG!!!!!! *squeals in excite createment*

ok...well, no, I'm not known to be "starstruck" but this was cause for some excitement.
I got to meet The Awesome Ms Tanya Stephens!!!!!

Mario, TANYA, Davell and I after the show

  the second staging of Tribe Sankofa's "Word-Soul-Redbones edition" at the Redbones blues cafe was every bit as entertaining as i'd hoped with the double whammy bonus of seeing Tanya Stephens performing some of the standards I love from her rep, even bussing a piece of Boom Wuk *YESSS!!!* ***(((Pauses here to acknowledge the awesomeness that is Renee Imani McDonald, dancer extraordinare LOVE seeing her perform)))***, and seeing the awesome Michael-Sean Harris Perform -wait for it- Mountain! this song I LOVE! God hearing it live again was awesome, a shame Kevan wasnt there to play the necessary and very sexy kumina rhythm as accompaniment...then there was his singing wining on the table top *goes full retard in privacy of room*...all in all a splendid show, mad props to le bestie Hanief the group's musical director, and Davell Thompson, who is just a bowl of awesomeness...Special praise to Aldane and Javed, hard to believe my younglings from Ardenne are now out in the world *sniff*

Succour on a Dark Day...

Looking through some old files on my phones temporarily de-commissioned memory card had me in a bit of a nostalgic mood, then I stumbled on a mini clip of JYC learning De Cormier's Ride on from two years ago, brought a much needed smile to my face. I share it here with you, a few seconds of just singing for the fun of it. hope it brightens yours too

Short Story fever...*does disco move*

I dont really know what inspired this, was in bed unable to sleep and after finally getting to doze i jumped awake and THIS CAME...So I wrote it down..what do you think?

I slowly trudge to the cut-stone façade of the administrative building, my footfalls announced by the crunch of gravel. It had been years since the fire, and yet more since I had last set foot at Crowley Hall, vowing never to return. Inexplicably, I had been more drawn as successive years rolled, then slowly ground on, until the will to keep my oath vanished entirely. A sea of memories flowed in, and my conscience reeled. I chided myself at my idiocy in ever thinking that, by avoiding Crowley that I would escape the memories; the joys , sighs, the sorrows...and through it all -  Him...
       My imagination conjures his spectre, and he comes to stand before me: the arrogant set of his squared jaw, softened by that beatific smile, small yet sensuous mouth, and those eyes...those eyes the colour of aged  spiced rum, yet a thousand times more intoxicating, which could pin you to heated submission or ravage you with icy despair...I was a fool to have ever tried to forget. So lost in the past I was oblivious to the intrusion of another until I felt the soft touch on my shoulder, suspending but not shattering the spell of recollection.
 "I'll take a ride back to the hotel with Monty, you come back when-" he paused, a breath hitched in his throat, as i sensed more than saw his body loosen, resignation seeping into him. "just...come back...please?" he turned and headed back to the cars, not waiting for a response, for which I was grateful; I would have had no clue what to say. I watch his slump-shouldered retreat without really seeing him, my mind being transported back decades before the present. where now forests had reclaimed, memory repaired, transformed and transfigured reality, nostalgia creating an almost tangible thing of my regression...and I was taken back to that day, 20 years prior, when Octavion had done it...the day he drew his last breath in my arms

of Dances and growth...Panorama:The Next Generation

So...the Weekend of the third of November, The Company Dance theatre opened curtain on our 24th season of dance "PANORAMA:The Next Generation"...
LOVED IT!!!!

My Dance partner, Jo-Ann Morris and I in Wilson's "Whisper"(2012)

An about face in the 2nd Movement (men's dance) of
Wilson's "PANORAMA:The Next Generation" (2012)

I enjoyed alot of the choreo entrusted to me, and I especially was moved to deep emotion when I had discovered that I had been promoted to a Junior member of the company...I felt vindicated after the long-though fun- nights, injuries and fatigue while going through my subsequent days ... Mr Anthony Wilson, Artistic Director, I am immensely grateful for the Opportunity, Mr Ricardo McKenzie, for being the awesomest friend for making me tag along to join with you, I owe you the biggest hug in LIFE, Mr Sigmund Morgan, for the constant encouragement, Grazie! to Mr Jerren Chambers, for the talks and encouragement, Zurie Johnson, for lightening (and then infuriatingly darkening) the bad days...we've come a long way from being "those feisty UWI boys" and I could not ask for more awesome guys to be lumped with :-) I must mention the camaraderie of Mssrs Corve DaCosta and David Reid, a league above but still great persons to share a stage with and the up and coming Mr R. Barrett

The Company in the finale of the title piece of the show Panorama!

Of solos, concerts and SOLO...me Alone

So some weekends back the Jamaica Youth Chorale had our annual flagship concert "Ancestor Voices". I had been asked to submit an arrangement of the Jamaican Spiritual "Me Alone", which tells the story of Jesus' temptation and fasting in the wilderness. I was ecstatic the director loved my arrangement (though he wasn't surprised at that, his words: "give you anything sad or dark and it must come out good"), and the rehearsals devoted to it and my hearing it were very touching moments in my life...then terror struck
"...So Carl, go ahead and try out the solo..."
*Gasps* what? uhm, can I just ...not, please? I never write with myself in mind for a solo and would not dream of singing a solo I've written let alone premièring it! I was terror and awestruck simultaneously...and went on to be the soloist in my own piece at the concert...well received rendition even if it felt like an out of body experience...a friend/group of friends conspired to record my experience (did I mention I am slowly hating the Video feature of smartphones? *shakes head*) and proceeded to regale me of the mistakes odd nuances and (few) good moments of the piece...

Une Si Longue Lettre...from an Island boy who has ceased to dream

Aïssatou,
 It seems so fitting that I use this name and style with all that sits on this heavy heart...and yet I find the words will not come with the ease my tears do...appreciate my disjoint words and deep grief...may Ms Mariama Ba not look unfavourably on my doing from her resting place... semblance of composure regained, I begin


It seems Hestia really does not get the credit she so greatly deserves...

I see the slow trickle, a hellish descent, and all I can do is weep in my forced sequestration...I guess this talk was bound to happen, and sadly while the voice began in concern, its amplification rang a bit vitriolic in my ears... I guess this is a bad time to stop being the eternal advocate. so you were questioned, and you laid bare what was never hidden, and made light shine on things held only away from those who would not ask... you were already steadily losing faith in the institution to which you played the anchor, the last standing pillar in a glorious temple worn down by so many things, a restoration proving merely an excavation; in your eyes slowly growing dim and immune to hope's feeble illumination... "They've moved on, found other friends...I'm alone" you are not alone, but It always happens that the skeptic and the untrusting find it hard to invest further where no easy trail lie...We shared a lot, and bonded intensely, so it is no wonder that after resuscitation the things that caused its premature cardiac arrest, untended, should reclaim death's victim, a sacrifice for a sacrifice is needed to complete any circle...you were not put on the pyre, no matter how it may feel so, because what was done to you is what needs doing for all, and after this laying bare do we then decide to move forward together...or dissemble and in factions part ways... I will venture to say this, you were more centred in the resurrection than any would give credit for...you've sacrificed- stubbornly?yes unwisely? maybe- and now we draw ragged breaths because the whole body does not believe it lives truly...the heart can do nothing more than ferry blood, the brain must re-alert itself to its state as living, blood must re-absorb oxygen and nourishment and disseminate it to the other parts of the body, to renew them from a spell of deep grey otherworldliness...the process of resurrection so easily sours and makes a zombie out of a body that should either be a person or a corpse...but we have all lived too much in the "zombified" un-reality...lulled ourselves into strained embittered silence... when truly those save the heart who remained seemingly fully invested were in fact failing to launch from safe port from fear of stormy seas...I am not one to find a reason to question men's motives with a light as would give the unknown a negative light, in fact I eternally believe in the goodness of all people (much to the chagrin of several persons)...but it seems time for me to grow up, to open my eyes yet again to the world...and rip open wounds that have festered to the light of day... and try healing them the right way. I am misconstrued, misinterpreted as I myself misinterpret and I have unwittingly misled...but in their cessation may I begin to make penance... and you...you who sit and read with the lenses of many and the vision of none, who should peruse this letter written and shared with you... for YOU...you who have been loved and loved fiercely, you have been coddled and you have been given so much, such trust, affection, opportunity, and yet in respite for those things you repay with...your meagre and reluctant offering...Mene Tekel... but as yet...[Upharsin]?

Your Ramatoulaye,
gender time and country made irrelevant by our circumstance

Weeping Mary... A we say music!!!

Here I post a Midi and score of a Vocal Work of Mine...*glee til' I realise it sounds like crap because of the programme used to do the synth voices* You can follow the music cause I sync'd it with the sound (rae fa my skills *jumps around*) [for foreigners, "Rae" is a Jamaican Ideomatic exclamation of joy, assent or suprise] Feedback much appreciated, drop me a line, lemme know what u think below :-)
SIDE NOTE:  I don't like that nasty intro while the title is going up either, but...meh

Blessings,
Carl-Anthony

An Old poem fast returning to prominence in my life

I Am

I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost;
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;
And yet I am! and live with shadows tost

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
And e'en the dearest--that I loved the best--
Are strange--nay, rather stranger than the rest.

I long for scenes where man has never trod;
A place where woman never smil'd or wept;
There to abide with my creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:
Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;
The grass below--above the vaulted sky. 

John Clare          

So much...

Deep breaths,
In...out
inhale, and exhale
fight, breathe
think, breathe
push, breathe
extend, breathe
care, breathe
so much
such great tasks when I stand in the weakness of who I am, ravaged by my circumstance and shipwrecked on the isle of no identity...cutoff from persons who I've known all my life, cut off from the girl I helped raise and looked over with the care of every fibre of my being...my heart is broken, my soul is broken, I am BROKEN...and you are tired...rest well, and be refreshed, I had no idea I had held you captive in chivalrous self sacrifice, out of your element and in the abyss with me... someday you will realise, but til then, believe I never did enough and say it, and be happy that you say it, it makes no sense you say it and be miserable...til I can exist again, rest and heal...and If I never exist again...take care of YOU...

A Return to my love...

On Sunday (well, yesterday, lol) I had the pleasure to return to rehearsals with the Jamaica You Chorale, one of the choral concepts of which I'm apart. I had missed this group terribly, the camaraderie, jokes and laughter...and paramount, our collective SOUND! love ma JYC fam! here's us doing Hogan's Hold On! in rehearsal, no soloists yet (we've yet to know if we using tenors or sopranos, but I'm EXCITED-hopefully im considered? *crosses fingers* cant wait for AV 2012!!!)

(AV: Ancestor Voices, the flagship annual concert of the Jamaica Youth Chorale, which showcases mainly sacred choral works with an emphasis on Spirituals and slave songs of the world)

Voices: Ardenne High Alumni Choir concert

There I stand, before the Alumni Chorus, my first attempt at conducting A full first half...I shall now give wing to my immense exhaustion...

Ardenne Homecoming 2012

Well, it would seem there's no end to this year's artistic opportunities... Just having been relieved of the University Singer's concert season run, I am presented with the opportunity to conduct The Ardenne High School Alumni Choir at this year's Homecoming concert. It was with immense fear I had accepted, and I approached the appointment with more than a little apprehension, after all, I would not only be dealing with singers my own age, in fact the bulk of the choir will be singers who predate me by several decades! nevertheless, with some coaxing from Hanief, I stand before the choir, built on voices that shaped my choral existence and those which weathered high school with me... it was looking to be an awesome experience...Til' I actually got before them, and was greeted with the true difficulty of being at the helm of a ship whose crew may not exactly be "enthused" at your appointment, and unappreciative of your manner... I speak quickly when flustered, and I generally have a faulty brain to mouth connect when it comes to work to be done- I. Am.A. Stickler...bad combination...will keep you posted as it unfolds...

Of Concerts and Operas...UWI Singer's Concert Season 2012

Promo Poster for this year's concert Season
(Me extreme right as gentleman and below my wineglass as a "thug")

so...the summer is off to a pretty much bleak start, but there are little windows of hope/joy...sorta, lol... So this year, The University Singers of the University of the West Indies Mona Campus (you guessed it, im in this choir), is staging our concert under the banner of events commemorating the Jamaica 50th anniversary of independence. this year, a first for the choir, we attempt/present an Opera on the Morant Bay Rebellion titled "1865" written by our choirmaster, Mr Franklyn Halliburton. in the performance of this, I understudy two roles: 1; the spirit who opens with a dance, wielding a calabash as dramatic turns to the four corners of the stage to invoke the presence of the ancestral spirits, which I share with a good friend and fellow tenor in the choir J. Chambers, and the role of a gentleman of the gentry, who warns the Custos Rotulorum of the arrival of the disgruntled peasantry at the Courthouse, which I alternate with another tenor vocalist, O'Rain Thomas. I am proud to say I was apart of this process and presentatio of the work. I enjoy my roles and I enjoy the audiences reception of the undertaking, some nights bowled over by the standing ovation we receive. first CDT's Ballet and now an Opera...I am looking to see what else this season in life has in store for me...
Yours in the Arts (:-p)
Carl-Anthony

Me (Right) as terrified Gentleman, O Thomas as Custos and
Ms D. Nelson as a terrified but vindicated Lady of the gentry

Needed...yet feeling so infinitely unworthy

"Come, whoever you are! Wanderer, worshipper, Lover of Leaving. Come, this is not a caravan of despair. It doesn't matter if you've broken your vow a thousand times. Still and yet again, Come." 

-Rumi

Miserere....

I've discovered that as these past days have come and gone, I laugh less and less...my companion at nights isn't the tired yet sated "end of day" feeling...rather it is an anxious restlessness, an acute frustration and angst...and it attacks right at my core in ways I cannot begin to understand let alone communicate. It seems every bit of headway I make is lost and I am rolled right back to the bottom of the hill to start all over again...Its a broken feeling...like my spirit is slowly dying, and I am going through the motions of a life I have ordered to be on autopilot by sheer volume of activity...I press on...with all that makes my dark cloud hang that much lower...

I pledge, great music to tune to the heart of any patriot...

The video I upload here is something that is quite a beautiful and very much rough rehearsal video...its my Choir conductor's arrangement of I pledge my Heart Forever, solo for Soprano...It is to be performed in our season this year and I honestly CANNOT WAIT to hear the flawlessly rendered piece...just hope I don't freeze or tear up backstage when I should be changing costumes. *covers face* full credits for the video are typed below it, feel free to comment ...ENJOY !!! 

I Pledge... music Gustav Holst (I Vow to thee My Country), Lyrics Hon. V. Stafford Reid, OJ, Arranged for Soprano solo and piano by  Franklin E. Halliburton, AS sung by Marcelle Thomas, Accompanist, C. Whyte

Laying in my room, I stew in the malaise of another year of life lived, another year of loss and pain through the lens of the fifteenth anniversary of my mother's passing, it would be bad and not so bad if it were that this milestone did not occur annually in the week leading up to Mother's day (as it -being her passing away- had happened the day before mother's day in 1997)  but here I must every May pretend to be joyous and happy for everyone who will on this day celebrate their mothers, while secretly harbouring a bitterness I daren't  express and is non-existent in any other facet of my life...but I felt the need to sing, and on the morning, at around the time I was informed I could no longer stop it, and here it is, a mess that I in retrospect should not have made, but alas...Im bound by my word to post such forays...In a future post i will bemoan with words my day

...and with No one to say "weep not, child" but the urge of disillusionment for constant company...

Ever just feel like your life took a turn and you've become a textbook example of nihilism? I've found that mine seems to take that turn a little more than every so often...usually carving a deep swathe into my happiness, leaving almost no joy in its wake. I cryptically told my aunt of a major problem that always sends me spiralling into deep depression whenever it comes up; she looked at me and said (translated to English) "You have yet to make the connection  between being nice and caring and taking the persons weight on your own shoulders, whether or not you think it is your fault, you in reality help no one when you yourself respond to it the way you do...look at you at nights sighing into pillow and looking like when  your mother just died, you cant keep doing this to yourself...its not healthy, and it is upsetting." and yet I retreat to same form..I cant deal, I have tried very hard to make amends, tried very hard to not further be a cause of pain or discomfiture to anyone and yet I keep finding myself here...keep finding myself...here...why do I keep going back to this place? why...I am so tired...so very tired...some days I do not even want to move, and this is after more than eight hours of sleep, as opposed to my usual four, after which I would usually be sprightly and awake...I often contemplate the world sans my existence...and in my estimation, if they can survive without my sainted mother...why then would they need me? me the source of pain and a monument to bad memories...

I feel like all I push most times is "down"

The Sharing and Navigating of our "Personal Darknesses"

Today's emotion cannot be processed, user is tired and quite annoyed with the world at the moment, but will explore their feelings...Eventually

       A friend of mine was sharing some difficulty they faced going through a bad breakup...the hardest part for them was not simply that they weren't over the person...it was the spaces that they shared with them...he referred to his personal space as his darkness...heartbroken, he says he now has no peace because he made "my" (his) darkness "our" (their) darkness...and it got me thinking (of course, AFTER we talked and he was comforted while we ate and laughed) of personal space and our own each of us "Darkness", the forms they take and the effect they have on us...as well as the gravity of what happens when we share these things.
     I can relate and I am sure we all can, with the reality of each of us having personal "darkness", whether it take the form of a place, activity, object or an amalgam or several of the former; it is this "thing/group of things" which "centres" us, makes us able to survive the world, to face the madness around us with relative calm and bravery. For me the primary one of my seemingly numerous is the solace of reading alone at home, for you doubtless it will be otherwise. I now imagine how much it takes many of us to share this personal space with someone...here I do not mean "tell" someone about it, though it my take that form as well...but to have them engage in it with you or even be present while you enact this process (be it so) . this is tantamount to letting them have an unfettered view of your essence, often see directly into your soul (hmm, feels like over-romanticism? maybe, maybe not), and this delicate moment is one that can make you or infinitely break you (and to the rare few, it will not phase you, and in that instance, was it really ever that important to you?)...now imagine that person/those persons disregarding the gravity of being "let in" or even worse know the importance and ignore it in a fit of neglect, anger, antipathy or just.plain.stupid.? if you're like me or my friend, your response is unease or despair, a gloominess or heaviness fills you at the thought of the activity/thing now, often so much so that it makes you avoid it altogether. others however, lash out, they make the person (or often everyone-the rest of the world) pay for this crime, this invasion and infringement...I warn us all to not take the communion of  private worlds lightly; yes we are human and there will be times we "mess up" but we should as much as possible be vigilant, because we never know when in our moments of humanity we may damage a soul beyond recognition and often beyond repair

The UWI Chorale (and what should be) my farewell concert Season

Me Photobombing the ladies of the Alto Line picture :-D

So this past weekend Saw me on stage for the University Chorale's (UWI, Mona) Concert Season 2012. One of the many performing Arts concepts I'm apparently a part of. It was, despite all the glitches, last minute complications and little things, an excellent show. I got to perform several songs I've wanted to for years, Work's When I was Sinking Down, Thomas' Peter Go Ring Dem Bells and though I would never say it, Leckberg's Alleluia. We even did Noel Dexter's Psalm 24 which has only been performed once prior to this season...

Me and Kimmy, Stage couple in all our choirs *feelin the lovements*

This was an arduous journey to the stage...and one of the very few where I was absent for more than 40% of the preparations for the show due to the demanding natures of my jobs and other performing arts concepts (hides face)...Until February I was not even sure I would be allowed to or even take part in the show until the MD (musical director), finally exasperated and convinced that I was serious in my asking if I was to be doing the show relented and said that I was in "the cast" as it were. then began the back work to catch up with the choir, which I assumed was light-years ahead of where I was as it regarded knowledge of songs for the season having staged alot of pieces and set the "high-church" music...fortunately, I wasn't as behind as I'd thought and we pulled through and gave a stellar performance

Me and one of ma Besties, ANNA...love her!

Di 3 musketeers...lol

A scene from the Jamaican Folk Suite of the show Anna on Solo *Whoot*

Suprise Visits of awesomeness!

so, yesterday when roasting in bed with a fever and with no voice to even whisper, I lay wondering why it is that this week of all weeks I should get sick, the week of The University Chorale's concert season! bloody hell... a short prayer and braps what happens? GRAMS TO THE RESCUE!!! 

WELL, she made my day, it was a refreshing though short visit. Love you Grams!!!

more details to come 

A little nostalgia

He sits by the window, and stares out onto the sweeping lawns, his house an island in the lush and perfectly manicured expanse of green, waves of crimson and pink breaking at the front and back porches. in his hand he fingers a ring absently. it is an intricately decorated ring, a golden band on which is overlaid a silver rose, its leaves diamonds encrusted within the gold band. A tear falls as he remembers the small of fresh pudding, the air thick with the scent of baking, and the atmosphere full of the warmth that had nothing to do with the oven and all to do with the love so tangible as to incite pinpricks of Goosebumps and stir a contented excitement to overcome anyone within the house's confines...

Thinking on my days, and the escape from an almost fitful night...

      "...To send his precious peace to my soul, to my soul..." I lay in the almost tangible darkness of my room, the confines which keep the world in check while my thoughts reach out, passing over the minutiae of my existence, and the recollections of past and gone pain and grief, glimpses of moments of bliss and interwoven through each experience the emotional band that the memory evokes: from joyous hues of gold, violet and lilac to deepest black and crimson, my mind perceives it all as it transpires as if before my eyes. It is a 3-dimensional to scale model of my world, illuminating my dark corner of the universe with splashes of radiant imagination...
      and in the wee hours of this morning, it was blood red... a dark energy that incites and excites emotions I am unused to feeling so intensely almost unprovoked...and I feel the bile of rage bite at my throat, choking the ability to see reason...frantically, I take a lungfuls of air, and the vivid colour and emotion recede, to be replaced by sadness...the deep aching sadness that seems my eternal private companion...

And I give in to the oblivion of what apathy would feel like...and feel the freedom sap the resolve from my bones. thus comforted, I free-fall into a deep, dreamless sleep...

I guess i'm feeling... feeling.....

Defeated: the sensation of being demoralised.....
This sensation of it all...it all being truly and utterly nihilistic...of being totally hopeless...yea...it Needs to STOP
  -__-
like now...

Sincerely,
Someone with better things to do than be crumpled under this depressing weight...

Oh Lord, Big up to di Jing-Bang dem!!!

Aunt: "yuh lucky yuh neva come home come see di jing-bang* dem"

Me: " O_o jing-bang?"

Aunt: "yuh fada cayliss Ooman dem, full up di house one bag a igleness, mi jus go ova deh an look if yuh room door lock..."

...at this point the conversation turns to a "tear down" of his unscrupulous and lazy ways, me being silent audience...She is summarily joined by my cousin, who confirms it all, responding to her rhetoric and nodding at points where there is no pause. I am boiling inside, as I think of how he has his visitors, who walk through my room and trouble my stuff at will, often then seeing me on the road and interrogating me as if they'd known me all their lives (yep, THEIR lives) because they're intrigued by the wall (I should post a pic one of these days) or intimidated by all the crap he feeds em...then, as usual with scenarios such as this, in steps the accused, wide grin and searching eyes...

"Mi Hungry enuh, weh yuh have ova ya?"

...he proceeds to have the last fish patty (my aunt has half baked patties which she buys as labour-saving meals when she cant be bothered), devours the last of the cream of wheat cereal and again vanishes, off to cavort with the "jing-bangs"-but not before wondering why im not staying over my own yaad, and instead siddung over here a bodda di ole woman dem (He was smart this time to not mention that he had girls there half his age flirting with and would like his "junior" to come play wingman...becuz, fuck no way in hell i'm gonna help my father get into bed with anyone who I myself am older than, or worse yet have them switch and come on to me, as has happened in past *KMRT, ALL A DAT is  for another post*) I simply let my aunt answer...and she did, laying into him so he had only to smile and leave after making light of her stabs... Ahh Bwoy...dis family, *SMH*

* "Jing-Bang"; A young woman (or older woman, as defined by perceived or rumoured desirability) or a group thereof, who seek(s) the attentions, gifts and resources of an ordinary, often foolish man, often at the promise of future physical/sexual favours which they have no intentions of fulfilling.

<Above> A stylised representation of the Jamaican "Jing-Bang"

An Afternoon out...

Today was decidedly A vacation day from my usual topsy turvy pace... the activities began with a chat with a new-found good friend(well, with the makings of Awesomeness) , followed up with a trip to the pool, where I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of three good friends. we proceeded to go watch the Jamaica Defence Force Massed bands concert at the Amphitheatre (Shell Bandstand) at the Royal Botanical Hope Gardens. The music was in many places A.HOT.Steaming.MESS but it was entertaining, what with soloists botching through crowd favourites and the refusal of the horns to play in the same key as the woodwinds, who were determined each to play decidedly above or below pitch for many of the higher notes. It was a great day to step outside of the frenetic pace. I add a short video of us in our picturesque day and a photo, taken by Andre <<the one n the video who shows his tongue a bit too often for a 20 year old (._. ) >>  in which I was so intensely focused 'pretend conducting' (*sticks out tongue* NO one is NEVER too old to pretend conduct) the band in one of the better known pieces, that I look like a complete retard...as in seriously...I was scared by my expression...

but yea...all in all a fun time was had by all.

I am sorry...and thank you

I don't know...I truly don't know what comes in the future steps taken...but One thing's certain I will heed your words...

             "......You rejected my love...Don't reject my forgiveness..."

thank you...

A quote that moved me...

Shared by a friend earlier this morning I felt compelled to steal and share it here...


         "The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most. There is a return journey to anguish that few of us are released from making." — Lillian Smith, American writer and social critic (1897-1966)

...Eventually

This word, glorious in it's employ within my daily parlance to denote the time that I will generally take to perform any task or duty which will be of a manner that helps self...eventually...so often I put myself on the back burner with regard to the undertaking or completion of any task: I'll be fine, I can rest after, I will, eventually...Which would ideally be fine if not for the fact that with five choirs and two dance groups, three jobs and a desire to maintain my four hour a night sleep regime, "eventually" never truly comes...


"My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light"

 

-E. Millay, attr. to Roald Dahl

A Disconcerting encounter....

           While walking from my monthly obeisance of paying the bills ( a responsibility that my aunt pawns off to me when she doesn't feel up to being on the road -which is invariably all the time -__-), I spotted (well, was spotted by really...no, lie! I was accosted seems more fitting) Kevin, my childhood barber while walking by one of the more popular local restaurants in Half Way Tree. He had on a very...well downright bizarre expression as he  greeted and spoke to me in a rushed tone that was nothing like his usual self.
         "Yow how yuh do boss?" He ignores the concept of personal space as he walks right.up.into.my.face.
          "Mi good, long time no see, Aunty Donna didn't tell me you moved shops." Which was true, I hadn't seen Kevin for nigh three years.
          "Yea man, deh a Arcade now, did a lie low fi a likkle, all spen' some time inna jail still." This I could've observed. men who are incarcerated for any spell have a somewhat "tainted air" to them (in my experience). and he exuded it in his disconcerting stare and toothy smile - or what would've been toothy, had his teeth not been a yellowing deteriorating mass that I've come to associate with protracted drug use...My heart broke at the memory of his common law wife and son. "Eh," he hands me a card, "Keep di link. Aright? Lata boss." and like that he is gone, walking just as briskly away...and I notice...His gait has changed- which is expected, men who go to prison a rarely maintain a confident stride; his hair is less sleek-groomed, yes, but not "neat"...his clothes hang on him as if he has lost a large amount of weight, which I surmise he has... our exchange lasted in all roughly one minute, yet it shakes me still hours after seeing him...its on these days that I can see credence to the expression:

"...Life is hard...and then you die..."

Me In Movement...Here it goes

Here it is... that I should make a post that showed myself in movement was a suggestion by a friend (who I summarily gave the death stare before being made to do it anyway -__-) but here it is, THE WALK THRU : modern movement and Afro-Caribbean steps. The Music is from the album The Garifuna Women's Project.  Well, here goes nothing/everything then....critique away

An interesting quote from E. Lynn Harris...

Reading a novel Just As I Am by now one of my favourite authors, I came across the quote below, and was moved to share it, hope you find it an interesting sentiment as well...

"You don't think AIDS is God's work?"  I asked
"Chile, no. AIDS is some of man's shit. but I think when we come into the world, its already established when we're going to leave. my time is just almost up..."
"...Whats it going to take to find a cure?" I questioned.
"When they realise that everyone's life is worth saving: the men; the women and the babies.. when they realise gay men do more than hair and sew dresses." Kyle said.
"You think people still think its a gay disease?
"Oh yeah. they have to believe that. it makes them feel safe...."

Of Adele and an easy Tuesday Afternoon...

As I sit, I move through music and artistes I have not listened to in a while, I came across A song I fell in love with last week, Cheryl Cole's Promise This as sung by Adele. I have no real "emotional" reason why I love the song, it really is just a slower take on what was expressed in Rollin' in the Deep, (wait...umm...maybe less than no emotional reason, lol) but  this song moves me..it is just...wow...and I dont say that often of many things...I just love this song, and to top it off the song has in its lyrics "Alouette" nursery rhyme, brilliantly poignant juxtaposing "him" as the lark being dismembered and asking to be covered before the inevitable demise... for your listening pleasure, Adele with a cover of Cheryl Cole's Promise This =)

Feeling...tired

I run...
clutching that parcel so close to my chest
My breath ragged gasps
barely enough to sustain my effort...
I am sure I will expire soon
one can operate on borrowed strength for so long
and the miracle that I have not yet collapsed begs that I continue
that I hold on despite all that would have me expire
I owe it...
to wherever this energy springs from

...right?

Some post Christmas Season Nostalgia...

So The alumni of Ardenne Music Club (my alma mater) decided to, in a fit of our usual routine, to sing an old carol from the "good old days" (yes...its 90% of the time a christmas carol that we sing...there was always something about singing carols at Ardenne) Behold our Quintet rendition of "O Come O Come Emanuel" (and because I was Idle, A fanfare that popped outta my head while I was amassing the Pics to make the video.

(^_^') Hope you enjoy, and as usual, Feedback Welcome!

Of music and youth..."The Unfinished String Quartet"

When I first discovered that the wild hums and sounds I'd make while doing a chore, walking, or even reading quietly were subconscious forays into the realm of music composition, I was excited to get right into the process of notation...Here was my first attempt at electronic notation. I wrote this in grade 9 in High school, to myself saying I would write one of the shortest string quartets complete with all four movements. using a free version of Noteworthy composer. I'm embarrassed to say all I can find of this is my handwritten score of the first movement and the midis that the unregistered programme allowed me to save in... but every so often I listen and remember the fun early days of reading music theory, and sharing with my friends In Music Club, the hours of reprieve from the usual drama of adolescence...

Peaceful night...

Sitting in the afterglow...
mired in my post happenstance musings
I smile inwardly...
the glow rises from inside me
to make the duchenne* a physical manifest of my pleasure
I enjoyed my quiet evening, and look to the repeat of many to come
the calm that has its own fire
never an ember, and so easily made blazing...
Kyrie, Christe Eleison...
Mercy on my soul
for all my mind creates in the lull...
as I watch you...

(*Duchenne- genuine smile)

random scene...

We spent the day simply enjoying the cool of the river and the warmth of the sun, walked and waded, laughed and chased each other as the sun moved higher then lower in the sky...I sat by you...we reclined by the side of a clear cool spring, speaking of things not yet come, of our fears, of our joys, the sun falling on our tranquil forms, shadows falling on the serpentine water, meandering down and away from us...

"What of the evenings when you go off by yourself? what do you do then?" you gaze at me, face cocked to the side in that adorable why, eyes aloof yet intent. I reach up and put a lock of your hair behind your ear, from the vantage point of your lap I see the lines of life on your beautifully angled face, caressed as it were, by  the hands of time. I close my eyes and delay, allowing my face to slacken as if in absent thought, though we both know what I intend to say; this question is never new to our talks.

            "I go to commune with myself and nature..." I open my eyes and look bemusedly as the lock I moved falls right back to its place. "when alone, I feel lighter, disjoint from all the things that make me feel weary...its sort of like little retreats to recharge the energy supply I drain through interaction."
               "and do I add to the heaviness?" your grin is positively impish, as your hand is rested on my head and my cheek, framing where your sundress has not so I am surrounded by your touch and the heady scent of you...
               "you don't, and you're quite aware you do not, but if I ever take you with me there'd be no stillness my dear." a soft chuckle is stopped in your throat, you look into my eyes, and not for the first time I feel you see way beyond the surface of who I am.
                 "I often wonder if you think of me when you're in that space." you look at my hair, knowing you needn't see my eyes to know that my next words will be true.
                "always, my dear, you are my anchor, and so long as I am moored with you I have bliss." you find my gaze and we share a smile, joy illuminating your face until the sun behind the canopy of branches pales in comparison. we pack our things and leave our secret place, your arm in mine as we always travel, an easy grace bred of affectionate familiarity...

Another one...whoot...-__-

well, As I had promised, here is another installment of "aural assault with Carl"...Sang first two verses of the traditional Negro Folk Song (yep, R.Nathaniel Dett's classification of the melody) Pray On...this time with barely visible commentary! whoot...enjoy, comment and critique...*Antonio Banderas' voice* If you dare...


Respect,
Carl-Anthony

to the...New Year?

As I sat in wait of the approaching new year (despite already acknowledging its arrival as per my religious observance at sunset), I began to reflect on all that was: on the experiences I have had and the knowledge I have gained both of myself as well as of the world around me; on friends and the strength and frailties of human ties as well as how indestructible some bonds are and can be; the importance of being earnest (If you don't know why I chuckled as I wrote that then two words- Oscar.Wilde.); and most importantly, that I am human...VERY much human, I am not able to please everyone, and it seems that whenever I do try I please no one and end up depressing myself...so here come this year's "workable" solutions:
~I love music, everything about it (well....lets disregard that whole "aleatory" thing for a bit, lol), and I will explore further my abilities within it, as well as train myself in areas where I am sorely lacking, It is too much apart of my day and life to be relegated to a "hobby"...
~I love dancing, I cant help it, movement is truly an integral part of my existence, and I am going to fully work at enjoying this avenue of expression
~I can write...well, so I'm told (why anyone considers my rambling good writing is like beyond me, but meh), and I can say despite my opinion, I enjoy the activity and will work more on it over the coming year.

hmm...I may just eventually post more personal ones, who knows?