If you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, your eyes stop tearing up

I am heading home
home
so many feelings ring out of me as I ponder it, but not light things stay.
laughs fly by, anger gingerly sidesteps direct confrontation. But. But. But.

there is this heaviness
this weight
that settles in the pit of my stomach and makes me feel like i stare into an abyss from which there is no reclamation of self, no reprieve, no cure.

I can't see the happy inherent
I can't see the sunshine implicit
I can't feel the light

I am in a unique self perpetuating hell that I can't help hurtling toward

and I do not want to help it.

and I do not have any way to escape it
but I do not want to escape it

I wish I could...
How I wish i could,
but you can't follow me

so I make a pillow fort by the stygian depths
and as you replenish yourself from the Lethe,
while my other companion lies half alive, but fully awake - in a cycle I am just as impotent to break
I sing lullabies to sanity
and steadfastly look away,

urging Hades to grant me the mercy of the deal he struck with Orpheus
but lacking the talent that would make such a deal worth his consideration.

we three blindly sit.

Cerberus, eat your heart out

A farewell (Nov. 30 2018)

Eggbert Missa B, Prince, Bertie, Uncle Bertie, Tibby, Ol' Man, Stick Man, (No sir, sorry I wont call yuh stick man again *rubs arm, pink from slap*)

I still remember growing up, sitting with you, squinting at the small screen of the coloured TV when WIndies had a cricket match, you at the edge of your seat, me barely following the action but excited something was happening (years later it was discovered my squinting was not intense focus, but astigmatism). Everyone would know if they did you proud (which was not always that they won) when you would then spend the rest of that day/week humming Rudder's "Rally Round The West Indies" in the sweetest warmest tenor voice I have heard on a Jamaican. it drove several persons crazy. it made me want to learn songs that meant I was happy so I could drive people crazy too - but more importantly, so I didn't have to tell them how I was feeling, but show/ sing it. this man smoked every day God send him sun when I was younger. and STILL voice was sweet and resonant, like a sunbeam touching your face with blessed heat as you sat in an air conditioned office shivering.

you were the archetype of the masculinity I hoped to personify:

- you would get up every day without fail, and take on the tasks you set yourself, with no complaint and no need for acknowledgement.

- it began with a slow, meticulous sweep of the yard. Alternating with a push broom, and coconut brush while singing, with pauses to "run" us from underfoot as we would play around you.

- Then came my favourite part: you would lay out your woodworking tools to continue whatever job you had in progress.
 I was proud my Grandpa was a Carpenter, and took pride when you would carve a bed-head or make a "chester draws" (Chest of Drawers was reserved for adulthood). I especially loved when it was a bed. when still in early stages, not yet with outfitted with lathes, I would love to sit in the open box that was the frame and read or imagine myself as a pilot, ship captain or teacher in a classroom (this last one only ever in private, as my sister had a total monopoly on being 'teacher,' a game she relished in large part for the strop with which she would discipline students, and the red pen to "mark" work). you made my "big boy" bed, a sturdy no nonsense affair, made from hard wood and unadorned. That bed has seen me through moving from place to place, become awkward teen, to a mostly good man, and has supported me in many a quiet hour in reading, laughing, loss, pain, and in loving.

Then there's those things that just added to your awesomeness

- You never waited on Grandma to fix you a plate, and though rarely ever having to, you could Bubble a pot! (sometimes these forays were traumatic - watching the process of making Manish water is a standout here - but you cooking was always a fun affair...until the teasing resulted in an invented nickname - always hotter than a slap)
- You always romantic in private! Poor grandma here telling us how tender you are with her, describing your earnest proposal to her, ring-less but determined to keep her...and us seeing you with your grumpy one liners and "kissin' teet" whenever she would start to retell the story. I realised, after we found the picture of you two kissing for some anniversary, that we had never seen you refuse to kiss grandma when she would try to wrestle public sweetness out of you. your resistance was always for show, and short-lived, because a peck was sure to soften the moment before you walked off.

- Your use of a nickname was a level of savagery that had us always on our toes...and rolling with laughter when not the target. I remember a step-sister once came to stay over with us, and after an hour of her incessant chatter (which had also got on our nerves by then) you gave out:
"Zazu, yuh beak nuh tired fi clap?" Fresh from the Lion King VHS obsession, the rest of us were giggling up a storm, poor Dex- I mean, Zazu. Mid smile, dazed and not knowing what had just happened. Of course, our laughter further got you annoyed, and we scattered at the shout of "Kibba unnu mout!" knowing as we did that the fresh laughter that this would bring would end in some slaps. she was truly one of us that day, Zazu, Carl-Jackass-teet'-fuss-one, Duck-head, Donna-Pretty-Cross-yeye-Duppy, Dutty-Neck, Sandy-Yellow-one-him, and Ashia (who you gave her pet name and was never given another name by you).

- YOU COULD DRESS!!! Grandpa, bar none, was the most put together, handsome, carefully organised man about the town. Listen! de man starch even his jeans! I think watching him dress and take care of his clothes and Clarks had more of an impact on me in my formative years than even having both my parents being in fashion design. from early years of trying to iron my primary school uniform (and creating triple and quadruple creases) to tucking my shirts into my pants (before growing older and becoming aware that where Missa B had a muscled flat stomach I had a round pot), "Uncle Bertie" was the very image of style and clean-cut dapper-osity!

Then you both moved "To Country," a whole other series of misadventures, "Grandpa-isms" and surly mask hiding warm-heartedness continued.

To the person who I am sure I in large part got my ability to find humour in the folly that causes frustration:

I miss you more than I can say, and will take a while to get used to the idea that you are no longer here. no longer a hurried phone call away in between classes when I would call your number to "speak to grandma" (when really I just wanted to hear you shout "Shirley, Tasito pon de phone," probably with a mumbled cuss that she going to done your battery now, and when you coming back down here again?), no more hurried 1-2 day visits to Manchester to reset while watching you move about tending goats, chickens and crops, humming snatches of melodies and wishing you would sing louder so I could harmonise, now older and FINALLY knowing the songs you always sang - Thanks Mr D for at least three of these - and able to join in.

"Sing Christmas Green, Poinsettia red,
for in a lowly manger bed,
a Little child was born."

wade slowly

He pours himself into the high-backed barstool, eyes maintaining steady contact with the bartender. A nod is his acknowledgement, and a smile of assent to the the usual. the radio, more static than coherent sound, is giving a just bearable rendition of Lauryn Hill. Elbows resting on the bar, he palms and supports his head on left and right sides. 

it has been a long day

short check in

Ever lay in bed and miss someone?

I do not mean the kind of 'miss' that people fleetingly claim when their minds happens to wander to someone (yet mysteriously stops shy of actually sending a message/calling), but an ache for their presence.

I feel it at some points during my day and night.
for him.
and it's mostly okay, an acceptance that I have allowed someone into my personal sphere in a space that family and friends cannot fill. I hope the homesickness is not for naught.

til then:

Please Don't...

there is a way that people will hold you to the mold that they envisaged for your life. Sometimes, this is a good thing - they keep you in line, on track to being the best self you can be. but other times, please, just don't

DON'T:

 - exclaim that you thought I'd be half way to PhD now. it is clear I am not there, and not yet close if ever to it

 - ask me if your suggestion of praying the gay/ the depression/ the dark thoughts/ the PHYSICAL situation away worked, or worse yet, come with a gloating air when I have (probably with help of meds and a therapist) made it to the other side, assuming Jesus, your last minute suggestion was the answer all along.

 - come around me with an air of condescension for others expecting to find a kindred spirit. I have no patience for those who hinge their self worth on the devaluing of another's self esteem.

 - try to stop me crying when it happens. life has been pretty shitty, let my soul acknowledge it for a bit. it is very hard for me to cry in the first place; if you witness it, just leave. you will likely know if you should stay. if you do not know, succinctly ask.

 - Advance toward me with conquest in mind, hiding behind courtship or gallantry. you're getting blanked anyway, practice candor.

 - compare me to younger relatives/ childhood friends. yes he is now a lecturer, yes she is now a chemist. I am not. I am a disappointment in so many more ways than you can imagine, leave me in peace.

Life has been such a painful, Topsy-Turvy experience. while not without it's happy instances of light, it is a hard road to travel. Not every observation shared is helpful, not every jibe is seized as an opportunity to show strength, and I am tired.

So...

So here you are. 

You're awake again, full consciousness blossoming as you open your eyes to take in the sight of your space. Another day. Another long stretch of disjoint interactions and the feeling of being isolated. But you're aware of that. You are actively cordoning off your emotional response and perception of reality. You can't possibly afford the humanity you crave. You tell yourself the time is not right to be vulnerable - that it isn't yet the right moment - but you know better. You feel the real reason. You can feel the helplessness deepening, taking up your consciousness and crippling you slowly as your body fights to move normally, to do normally. You project blithe fortitude as your reality. But you're falling apart. Again. And you fear you are irreparable. 

None of this is okay. 

You are at a place where you try your best, while aware that it is not at all your "best" but that you have no access to your optimum. You can't manage this on your own, but opening up to any one involves admitting just how much of this internal dialogue of resentment you've been hiding. And they have their own issues. 

And you refuse to cry.

And you refuse to feel.

And you refuse to submit. 

You know this is all foolish, so you strike deals with your trauma. 

"Let me get through this semester/concert/year/month/week/day" 

Because you know.

You KNOW 

The doors and locks that hold back the full effect of all you can't address... they are insufficient protection and you do not know when but you know each day brings you closer to being face to face with its unfettered ferocious devastation.

And that feat

You feel it 

And you know it to be real, where even love from others is mired in the doubt you know is baseless - 

But...."what if" 

The chain rattles. 

I wonder what it feels like

I look around and I wonder...what does it feel like?

 - what does it feel like to brook no counter to your logic?
 - what does it feel like to be closed to growing and changing?
how can these feelings aid one to be a better person? these moments are not questions of a slope of morality, but they certainly show character.

but my more pertinent question is for myself

what am I doing to ensure I do not calcify at the expense of growth and the growth and happiness of others?

taking notes for myself,

TonyC