Thursday, September 23, 2010


an after-lunch Manhattan.
raising its best
truth or dare questions
to a clouded blue
on top of
glass-houses are see-through
on days with enough light.
That they would frame a utopia
from steel and neon signs,
side-walkers use cigarettes
to incense city shrines,
floating on vapourized
nicotine like the sky fell down
on 33rd street.
I shouldn't have to breathe
easier underground.

Copyright © 2010 Arielle John

Sunday, September 19, 2010

The road to Ithaca.

There is the breathing easier this week knowing that he won't be working the long hours as in the last, but the straining thought of me possibly being the laden one this time. My weekend was okay. Filled with love as it grows into something more beautiful than yesterday,and less wonderful than it will be when I wake up tomorrow. He might be the sole constant in my life and I am thankful for it all.

In this last week, i had my introduction meeting to capoeira class. I've always wanted to learn the technique, and it's the latest in my 'oh women can do that too' ego-trip. lol. But seriously though. I enjoy the idea of becoming the foundation of something. This is the first batch of students that will do capoeira at this college and i anticipate growth in myself and the formation of a new community.

The coldness is annoying, just. Makes you (well, me.) counter-productive and dreary. I've not been getting time nor freedom of mind to do any writing. I hope that the upcoming writing workshops would be able to cure that somehow though. I do write a whole lot more of my opinion with this degree as compared to my first, but it still doesn't find the peace enough to fall into stanzas.

I should find a way or means of motivating myself to take this Latino diasporic class more seriously. It's a drag because of the fact that I feel disconnected from it and there is no emotional attachment between me and the subject matter. Then what of whites that have to sit through my African diasporic classes. If they can do it..

Menaremenaremenaremenaremenaremenaremen are men. and we should probably expect less than we actually do for them. I am tired of men and their ways. I promise I love my boyfriend and father recklessly, like it was what I was told to do with my being. but there is something about me that creates subtle havoc with the other sex, and that too I am tired of.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Falsetto. The Air.

The chill in the air, decides to show itself to me. It is drizzling tonight, thunder and lightening from a floating heaviness up there. He asked that I wake him up about fifteen minutes ago so he could get back to work. He works so hard and gets so tired sometimes, it feels like a greater sin to disturb that rest. So I will do that after I post this entry. I know no man more diligent, and I see all the time where dedication takes him. He loves just as hard as he labours. They might both essentially be the same thing.

There is a bothersome thing about the people of this country that has been taking my mind over in the past few days, ever since that show in the city last Friday. The way people look you in the eye and blatantly ignore all memory of previous interaction. The way people here pretend as though they've never seen you all their life, when you've worked alongside them, did a scene together with them in class a few hours ago, spoke to them, have them listed as a 'friend' on fb, competed against them. No recollection. I would like to call it a 'falsetto' even though the real meaning of the word has nothing to do with relations. Americans are a strange species.

I would want to read and think and write. but there is work to be prepared for classes, and those tend to have priority over most else. I am in another place and still fed up of the anti-female-secret-campaign back at home with respect to female performers. The "we don't promote tokenism" (end quote.) b.s. and the hypocritical advances of the same men who use their craft to 'promote' women. I hate to always have to think in gender terms, but I do it out of necessity. Just when you thought things have changed. They take it to the next level.

Tired. Goodnight.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Ten Things About.

Ten random things in NY that I keep forgetting to post.

1) The dollar taxi is actually two dollars.

2) Americans do not buy KFC.

3) EVERY item of clothing that seems to make less sense to wear in Trinidad, only for the sake of fashion, actually HAS a purpose here i.e. sunglasses- the glare sometimes is ridiculous, leggings- underwear in the cold, scarves- voice savers, boots- as boots. etc.

4) the high-pitchedness of the voices of American children trip me off.

5) Eat when you hungry. do not eat when you are not hungry.

6) it scares me that one of the most 'crime-ridden' cities as portrayed in mainstream media, is safer at night than Port of Spain on most given nights.

7) Americans don't get AIDS as much as we do in the Caribbean, because they get diagnosed with smaller, more trivial illnesses, maybe like kidney problems,flu, lung disease or something. Keeps the statistics down. damn liars.

8) Fruit and vegetables and the way they stalk you on every corner in them Korean green-grocer-shops, is a beautiful thing....also addictive.

9) Times Square is actually a rectangle.

10) Personal Space does not matter in Public transportation.