A li’l bit o’ madniss.
Sun. 13.Oct.24.
Hello, m’dear. I hope you’re high and dry. That’s not a pun in any way, okay? I only mean I hope you’re somewhere safe away from flooding, with all this bad weather going around, who knows.
This past week, I was worrying that Milton would severely hurt fambly and friends in certain parts of Florider. The fretting shredded my thoughts, scattering them all ovah me head-space. Lemme gather them together, see if I can make sense out of them, share them with you.
Wednesday, 9. Oct. 24.
Wata.
Wata niiiiice. Wata sweeeeet. When you thirsty, nothing like cold wata. Mama useta fill big glass bottles with wata and store them in de fridge for we. For years, I couldn’t drink room temperature wata. (That’s how you knew you were a privileged child.)
xxxx
Wata is all over the news. Can you imagine if a wata-mooma popped up on our TV screens behind the news reporters, whilst they’re out in the streets, talking about the hurricane? See de wata-mooma flashin’ she hair, battin’ she eyelashes, showing’ off she fish-tail, swingin’ she hands, spreadin’ she fingers an’ thumbs an’ closin’ them together like social media influencer. Only the viewer can see she. Soon as the camera person try to zoom in, and the reporter turn ‘round, she dive back into de wata.
xxxxx
Thursday, 10. Oct.
Milton took away electricity from the Florider fambly and friends. But, if Milton had rushed through my lovely native land, the people there would’ve been absolutely certain that it was Gee Pee Hell also known as GPL also known as Guyana Power & Light that was depriving them of power.
They don’t understand that GPL is the best company in 3 atmosphereS…I think I mean hemisphere…no, I mean atmosphereS. GPL’s power cuts last so long, the lengthy lack of electricity can repair damages caused by global warming caused by overuse of fossil fuel. That is, it would repair if the citizens don’t switch on those carbon-pooting generators.
(I can think of 1001 ways to earn a living with power cuts, but that’s another story for another day.)
xxxx
Cousin T. in Florider said that the eye of Milton missed his home by 3.5 miles.
“It eye-pass me,” he texted.
I could imagine his goo’-lookin’ face lighting up with glee at his wordplay. “That’s a brilliant pun,” I replied.
This is the first time evah that eye-pass (disrespect) has done a bit of good!!
In the days of Massa…Master…and the enslaved people, Massa would pass his eyes over the lined-up people that he wanted to own as His Personal Property. (I read this in a history article in one of our newspapers. Stabroek News, I believe. Or, it could be something I’ve made up about the origin of eye-pass, to see how many people of my lovely native land would copy it and spread it more than Gospel on TikTok.)
This part is true though…we the citizens in my lovely native land say, He take he eyes and pass me, if we want to explain that someone has disrespected us.
xxxx
Friday 11. Oct. 24.
Milton is old and feeble now and…hold on a second there, have they gone so far down the alphabet already?
Next hurricane name begins with N! Shush ya mouth! Let that die before it begins.
Who, by the way, names these storms? Haven’t the name-selectors of h/canes heard about call-names?
A call-name, rather than a birth certificate name, is your true identity, man. It describes your character or something peculiar about you. There’s Bucket-Hole-Man, Golyn (Golden, as in, you’s me golyn chile), Daalin. In one tragic news item, I read how Pumpkin was stabbed to death with scissors. Then there’s that fruit and veggies vendor - Jumbie. I ain’t want to tell you why people call he that, lemme just say that they say that he look like a dead-man-spirit in de night.
I most definitely think that h/canes should have call-names. We should give them the names of politicians - those that blow hot air, and the names of murderers, bad-Johns, criminals, and other wutliss…worthless…good fo’ nottens.
xxxx
See, my friend? See what happens to me when I worry? Me head does do all kinda gyminastics to keep down bad cortisol.
The Intellectuals and Anti-Laugh brigade can snub me all they want, they can hobnob with each other in heavy-curtained rooms and munch upon their ten-pound cakes of gloom whilst I indulge in a bit of light laughter. As Ma likes to quote: a little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men. That’s how the people of my lovely native land deal with woes even though plenty o’ them don’t nibble books so they don’t know about this quote. They boil down dealing with stress to this: laugh or you gon cry. That is the truth-juice they sip upon. Say what you want, it helps.
Speaking of help, could you give a hand to a sistah here?
A toilet is a basic human need, and her family could be fined by the health inspector if they can’t fix it.
(Have you seen that Indian film, Toilet, by the way? It is entertaining and thought provoking.)
Anyway m’dear, it’s time for me to hop out of bed and do as Brother Bob sang, wake up and live.
I hope you stay well and happy, friend. Remember to take care of you. Eat good food and dance up li’l bit. See you two Sundays away, plenty luuuuv, neena.