Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Memory Islands

The ancients observed that reversals were, in many ways, as important
As the victories their communities would accrue in the course of affairs
It would become their practice to find a way to commemorate the former
Even as even the most minor triumphs were what tended to be celebrated

They recognized, however, that it is hard to resist the temptation of the salutary
When the alternative prospect is of encumbering the mind with the unpleasant
After a long consultation with the gods, they devised a solution
The mist of memory became a safe haven

The contours of this terrain was replete with caveats
Overstuffed caves and secret chambers of detailed recall
Next to retreats to escape hatches of situational amnesia
Memory islands were the conflicted legacy of mankind

Too acute a remembrance and one is inhibited
For, if vivid and at the forefront of the mind, a memory can surely blind
Too raw a reminder of past hurt, and decision making would be tentative
They found that sometimes memories were debilitating and that forgetting was best

A fine balance was needed, however, to navigate this fraught life
For, on other occasions, the reverse would be summoned
In many perilous moments, prompt recall can be of the essence
And, even without urgency, precise action can be preferable to a blank slate

The moderns - we should not begrudge them, would now speak of hormones
And sundry glands and secretions that encode our instinctive responses
Yet the ancients would maintain that these textures of ancestral memory
Are merely the rivers that course through nature's memory islands


reflection water edge


Memory Islands, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version) See previously: Decision to Forget. Cultural memory is my enduring theme.

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Writing log. June 9, 2022

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Celestial Visitor

Venus would appear in its first guise as a morning star
Paving the way for the sun to rise a few hours later
And casting a faint shadow in its greatest illuminated extent
A waxing crescent state in the predawn hours
The liminal twilight before sunrise

In modern times, adjustments were needed amidst the man-made glare
To favor eyes unaccustomed to discerning such distant objects
How best to perceive its shape during the fleeting apparition
The advice was to first stare at the receding horizon
To habituate the senses to behold the roving vision
For the eye to truly gather a full glimpse
We had to learn anew how to see the wonders of this world

Still, the ancients would take its journey as an omen
In their urge to understand the paths of nature's higher bodies
A reminder, in its elliptical motion, of the proper order of things
Mankind's gaze recorded that Venus would precede the sun

Thus it was their practice to wake at the crack of dawn
To savor the quality of the light of the early morning sun
And they would make sure that those bearing the very young
Would be shielded in the shadows from the later burning sun

And the word was passed down, the stories were retold across the ages
Grandmothers would explain as they called you in, mine would speak in this way:

Spirits are often contemplated in the dark, messengers of the night
And Venus, in its full grandeur, visits humanity before sunrise


ghana stamp pioneer venus space project multiprobe spacecraft 1979 39 pesewas


Venus, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
Bonus beats: Happier than the morning sun by Stevie Wonder

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Writing log. June 9, 2022

Tuesday, December 03, 2024

Rub-A-Dub Style

I'll confess that my intentions in your regard are not what you'd call honorable
That the ache that I feel points to a rather earthy origin
Pores, skin, flesh and ultimately sweat are what I envision
In the moment, you can bring the laughter, I'll make sure to bring the heat
We can go Dutch, rub-a-dub style, you do know what that means

The highlights, we'll never forget,
And even a mundane touch will be remarkable
Stay with me, whatever fits the bill,
I'll lay all my cards on the table
These words may be intense but are a mere testament to my ambitions
It's about the great longing, rub-a-dub style, you know what I mean

Nights exchanging whispers and then screams of passion
Surprising ourselves and watching each other's reactions
But, first things first, can I hold your hand?
Let me not get ahead of myself, may I have this dance?
Let's make memories rub-a-dub style, know what I mean?


wiz - calabash chorus (1994)


Rub-A-Dub Style, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note, I favor a direct approach in accordance with the style. 25 odd spins on the rub-a-dub notion starting of course with Johnny Osbourne's One More Rub-A-Dub and the great Dennis Brown's Rub-A-Dub all the time. (spotify version)

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Writing log. June 7, 2022

Tuesday, November 26, 2024

Forever

The child understands that your love is forever
As permanent, that is, as the smile that overcame you
As the tongue you snuck out as you played peekaboo
The child sees clearly, trusting in this truth
And worries not
Forever is your burden to share
No, the child does not worry
The duty of worrying is yours alone

And so child, I worry about what you might learn about forever
That the things that God creates only approach forever
That the pleasures of the senses are best appreciated in proportion to their rarity
That even hugs and kisses have their limits
That your very presence is not guaranteed
That your very smile, mischievous at that, might be fleeting
That your roving mind, lively and inquisitive, might enter autumn
That those unending questions could one day be silenced
That, in this land - prone, you could be brought low for a nothing
That there is a difference between forever and eternity
That here on earth, we can only promise forever
That indeed, we are only promised forever

But my child, even if eternity is foreclosed to us by fickle gods
Know that my love is forever
Know this, my child, forever
Forever and a day


Aso Oke bronze


Forever, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note, one of my favorite playlists, quietly devastating soul (spotify version) File under: , , , , , , ,

Writing log. June 6, 2022

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

The Voiceless Past

A terrain of uncertainty
And a time of imposition
It was rough going, to be frank,
Fraught days best left forgotten

We eked out a strange kind of life
The small mercies sufficient unto themselves
When dread was a daily intruder
And our only defense was a stare

Branded itinerant, of no fixed abode
Still we fashioned temporary shelter
Falteringly, we laid our bed of unease
Always wondering when we would next hear laughter

But even in the most precarious moments
We remembered the words of the ancestral songs
And even if we could only sing them softly
We were comforted by their blanket of soul

Serene about the way forward, resolute about the challenge
This interlude shall pass, and we will leave our mark
And the elders' refrain will resound
Full throated, all parts sung in harmony:

In those painful hours, our hearts were hoping
In those silent days, our eyes were watching
In those dark years, our wounds were healing
For even with the tears, we knew our time was coming
The spirits returned our voices, truly the world will remember
And we shall tell everyone the story of those dark chapters
How we never gave up the struggle and proved our mettle
Remember: there is more in the mortar than the pestle


kbaka-water-huts-night


The Voiceless Past, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
After Talking Drums

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Writing log. June 6, 2022

Tuesday, November 12, 2024

The Corner of 12th and Chicon

Transitional you may call it these days, the corner of 12th and Chicon
A far cry from its salad days as an out-and-out combat zone
When hardened hookers used to walk the streets barely causing a shrug
And the weary cops turned a blind eye to the open air markets of drugs

Change has been long coming but it creeps up on you all of a sudden
Places betray only faint traces of their previous reputation
Located just a mile from downtown, no wonder there's been gentrification
The inescapable reality of commerce and real estate transactions

Suffice to say in this case, that there has been a whitening
A rebrand now that the corner is no longer so frightening
And as a fitting testament to the changing face of East Austin
On the mural, they painted the face of Bad-era Michael Jackson

Still, the other heroes are there, defiant:
   Bob Marley, Nina Simone and Prince
Thurgood Marshall, James Brown, Sade,
   Sly Stone (or is it Jimi Hendrix?)
The conscience of a certain tribe: Dick Gregory, Muhammad Ali
And, keeping it real, conflicted martyrs like Tupac and Biggie

Throughout, the nearby Eastside Community Church aimed to provide shelter
Modified latterly to host, on its premises, a Pregnancy Resource Center
You never know in Texas, this was ground zero for maternal mortality
Where Barbara Jordan fought for civil rights, they try to preserve her legacy

The last holdouts remain but now no longer hold sway
Just a few transients holding on to faded glory days
Rough trade, ambling in the early morning to the liquor store
Passing, as they do, the fresh-faced women out walking their dogs

Lululemon leggings, some carrying their yoga mats, nubile young things
Or the others now heading to work out on the shiny exercise machines
Complicated tributes to physical perfection, elliptical witnesses
On their treadmills to modernity, edifices of health and fitness

The parking lots where the Guinean immigrants would sell African clothes
Trinkets, carvings, dashikis, herbal oils, and the like are now mostly closed
Once their steady remedial work was done, the developers moved in
It's a safe neighborhood now, and on a few plots they've started construction

A couple of desultory food trucks, beasts of burden, now stand alone
On the way to middle school with the 11 year old past 12th and Chicon
No crossing guard here, those who walk these streets are on their own
Eyes wide open, we take it all in. Then a quick hug before I turn and walk home


12th and Chicon


The Corner, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
Bonus beats: Street Corner Hustler Blues by Lou Rawls

See previously Inman Square Still Life and Coyote Point

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time

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Writing log: August 31, 2022

Tuesday, November 05, 2024

Academic Discourse

Informants were forcibly struck
     By inadvertent socio-cognitive barriers
Where assumed nuances facilitated sensemaking
    Within the same systemic design community

The organizers initiated the webinar
     Effectively problematizing group interaction
Playing the role of existential gatekeepers
     Making use of information and communication technologies

Informal knowledge is reinterpreted
     Within a group's particular context
Socialized to a degree by volunteers
     Providing practical learning experience

Demarcating, at once, well integrated empirical findings
    That a majority of members would endorse
Immersed in exploitation spanning boundaries,
    The sphere of academic discourse


from-stage



Academic Discourse, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
After reading some veritable word salad masquerading as jargon

See previously Eating People is Wrong and Duty of Care

from-stage


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Writing log. June 4, 2022

Tuesday, October 29, 2024

The Occasional Regret

Sometimes technology gets in the way,
There are ghosts in the machine, it seems
Or perhaps gremlins are the proper genus of the species
For when, in your haste to wish your interlocutor
Simple encouragements and the best of luck,
Your typed message got garbled by the darned computer
Transformed into choice obscenity before you could react
And now you wish that the whole interaction was something you could retract
Flush with mounting embarrassment
  And awkwardness that you're unable to deflect
All that is left is to bemoan it:
  The occasional regret of auto-correct

...

Sometimes when you're confronted with a choice,
You decide to take the easy way out
Unwilling, as you are, to listen to other voices
Or even entertain a scintilla of a doubt
You find yourself beefing up and promoting a patent scoundrel
Marshaling fraudulent arguments on the basis that he's a lesser evil
And now, without shame, he's hellbent on crudely screwing the pooch
The bodies are piled up high,
Unmitigated disasters while he cheerfully loots
  The uncouth rascal,
The hatchet jobs write themselves for even middling pundits
But now you have to stay silent as you were well and truly complicit
Call it buyer's remorse:
  The occasional regret of claiming to know what's best

...

Sometimes you decide to invade a smaller country
Might makes right and it will serve all your cronies
Fictitious claims, weapons of mass destruction
Vague but imminent threats and human rights violations
Ignoring, in your rush, all evidence to the contrary
Riding roughshod over any attempts at diplomacy
Wars of choice never lead to mission accomplished
After this catastrophic war on the wrong target, you are fully tarnished
Beyond the blood and lost valor,
  Your nation now entirely lacks credibility
Hell, even Putin can rightly accuse you of being part of an axis of hypocrisy
While badging his aggrandizing crimes with the same patina of manifest destiny
Oops, a cautionary tale:
  The occasional regret of the self-righteous mindset


At this point subsequent horrific events are still reversible - kodjo crobsen


Sometimes, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
See also Regret, a playlist

See previously: The Writing's on the Wall and Regret is all

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Writing log. June 4, 2022

Tuesday, October 22, 2024

The Ingredients of Catharsis

Release, when it comes, is best served with a grain of salt
For it's been so long brewing that anticipation is pungent
Sweeten to taste with local honey, something fit for a prince
Or substitute with some unrefined beet or cane sugar

Grind slowly in a mortar of regret
Using a solid pestle for the best blend
Crush and pulverize the sense of alienation
If need be, pound heavily and enjoy the sensation

Simmer until the stock in trade has been clarified
A half cup of consommé should be more than you need
Bitter fruits are to be avoided if at all possible
Not every guest can handle the likely fermentation

A few drops of concern should be sufficient to allay any anxiety
Pair with a tart topping of wist to highlight the sourness
Loneliness should sizzle to properly savor the contrast
If you prefer astringency, serve medium rare but use only the freshest cuts

Consider the sense of purpose and remember your roots
Answers emerge languidly from the recesses of the mind
Albeit golden memories make for the perfect pairing
Don't restrict yourself, indulge your imagination

Someday soon you'll surely return home and recapture the feeling
When you can drop the mask and, unfiltered, embrace normalcy
And testify in earnest conversation, a return to innocence
Relief and equanimity, the main ingredients of catharsis


El Anatsui


Ingredients of Catharsis, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version) File under: , , , , ,

Writing log. June 3, 2022

Tuesday, October 15, 2024

High Tech Luddite

High tech Luddite, you might well say
Finally fed up, it was was my then-fiancée
Who got me my first mobile phone that Independence Day
Tired as she was, frankly, about my anti-social ways
She put me on the Friends-and-Family plan and said "Say no more"
Reader, I married her, months later, and carried her across the door

I work with cutting edge software but continue to be a late adopter
Friends often remark about my puzzling inertia
Looks of concern and wonder, as if I were allergic
To all those shiny gadgets, must-haves, and flashy widgets
Those social networks, elite apps, and newfangled platforms
I'm always out of the loop and unaware of the latest norms
I guess that I'm altogether immune to the fear of missing out
And trust that when I do move they'll have finally worked out the bugs

Vinyl and hefty speakers, my sound system dates from a bygone era
When veritable dinosaurs roamed the land along with other chimera
The kids joke that I write in my dusty notebooks with ancient quills
Preferring manual over automatic as I do, an aesthetic of low frills
This studied indifference has served me well but sometimes beggars can't be choosers
Sixteen years later, I finally got the courage to ask to be an authorized user
For, with a cracked screen and sharp spikes that make it a danger zone,
Apparently I still need permission in order to upgrade my vintage phone

His and Her's



Old School, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)
high tech Luddite



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Writing log. May 15, 2022

Tuesday, October 08, 2024

Such Is Our Asylum

A carapace of insight
Built incrementally and revisited anew
An exoskeleton of wordplay
Whose affirmation frames our point of view

A dense network of thought
Fleshing out an informational mesh
Such is our asylum
There's no time for buyer's remorse

Snap judgements galore, we write our own stories
Judicious case studies, arguments by analogy
Feverishly devising impressionistic narratives
Changing the frame with our oblique perspectives

It's a reflection of these fragments of identity
Collecting pieces of a dream in search of community
Crumbs of solace gathered from probing conversation
Forging liminal links while chasing word fugitives

And so we weave together strands of allusion
Erecting barriers of layered protection
A comfort suite of irrepressible storytelling
Refining the mesh that is social living


hutton-mills sunlit hut palm trees 1998

Toli Theme, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note, consider this a musical manifesto of sorts. (spotify version) See previously: Such is my Asylum

...

The book is done.

This note concludes concludes another collection of toli, my fourth collection of poems, a year in the life. I started May 2021 with The Lobby and ending on May 2022 with another covidious folktale. It took in tragedy and its aftermath in South Africa and Ghana as well as my usual meditations on small things. Hopefully it will escape hypertext into physical form sometime soon... I call it Buyer's Remorse.


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Writing log: March 23, 2022

Tuesday, October 01, 2024

The Fleeting Canvas

While some record the imprint of history
Gathering impressions in weekly tallies
Others move forward without regret
The swinging doors closing behind them

Waiting chambers of yore become empty nests
Lines drawn with one stroke, resolute, with no makeovers
Passing murmurs, and no time for contemplation
The flowing streams wash over rough stones

Passengers in a season of migration
Pursuing the elusive gifts of time
Glimmers, flashes of the treasures of fate
Prospecting for liberation in the river bed

A glimpse of self with its fractured reflection
Instant love, living in the moment
A prelude to adoration and devotion
Swaying, rustling curves in motion

Recapturing sensations that once left you breathless
Luxuriating in the waning passions of seasoned flesh
To slow down, abide, and truly savor change
And in the aftermath, pause fitfully for reflection

Did you ever feel butterflies in your heart?
The lightness of the sensation, susurration
A whisper is ephemeral but love is lasting
And bold. To know its pathways. Recognition

Tracing patterns of exchange in coarse sand
The transient glow of bite-sized triumphs
Putting aside the slights and misunderstandings
A wave washes over the pebble beach

From silvery gray to deep black, gradations
Control measures, to master the brush stroke
Love again, weighed against disposable feelings
Love. The texture of a life, the fleeting canvas


a.k river scene



Liquid Soul, a playlist


A soundtrack for this grace note. Three hours of langourous, elliptical soul. Dissolve in the grooves, let them wash over you. (spotify version)

This note is part of a series: In a covidious time.


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Writing log: April 9, 2022

Tuesday, September 24, 2024

Buyer's Remorse (Part 5 Caveat Emptor)

Buyer beware... the conclusion of Buyer's Remorse

V. Caveat Emptor


Fifi had managed to procure a side deal
   offering personal protective equipment
His firm had no experience in manufacturing
   yet the profits he saw were indecent
The elders of the Ushers had vouchsafed
   his bonafides and competence
For excessive scrutiny on the contracts
   would betray a lack of confidence

Their scribes and linguists were keenly aware
   about the prevailing tendency
With trend-surfing alacrity, they were obliged
   to watch the mood of the country
The elders navigated the zeitgeist but, in this respect,
   their strategy was crude
For although they disposed of the reins of power,
   they did not create the mood

When in bubble territory, all was permitted
   so long as there was a greater fool
To be left holding worthless assets
   while you calmly counted your new jewels
It was explicit, every man for himself,
   they rather expected collateral damage
But, given that they'd been bailed out repeatedly,
   they felt free to take every advantage

It was a risk worth taking, in extremis
   they'd expect the treasurers to step in and lend freely
And as rule makers, nostrums about high rates or solvency
   would be ignored rather conveniently
As to survival checks for the common folk,
   they’d raise the issue of moral hazard and its specter
And jump up on their high horses,
   loudly bemoaning handouts and welfare in scolding lectures

The Ushers had gone all-in with leverage
   following a high risk strategy
But it turned out that they'd run up
   against a fearsome and capable adversary
The Wan tribe had reserves of strength and discipline
   that caused them to be underestimated
Inscrutable and hard working went the stereotype,
   but their savoir faire was often discounted

They'd paid lip service to the entreaties
   of the vulture capitalists that surrounded them
Opening up at their periphery but, as Ananse and Sika expected,
   they didn't let their guard down
Thus the flow of money would be bound to continue as promised
The possibility of a lucrative payoff would be hard to dismiss

Middlemen in a two-sided network,
   they collected their ample cut and transaction fees
It was now time to move on and,
   as they tallied the profits, they were very pleased
They pitied the Ushers' eminent braintrust
   of high officials with all their degrees
For these last had failed to perform due diligence
   and were now no longer at ease

Indeed the Ushers' soothsayer sounded the cry,
   "Cash, cold cash", and started a lament
As the returns came in and were reconciled,
   the scale of the disaster became apparent
They appealed to the Grand Treasurers
   to step in as buyers of last resort
But were surprised by the bankers' reponse:
"There's no buyer's remorse"
The lesson they were learning
   was that buyer's remorse is a funny thing
At the time that you bought something,
   you might have had some misgivings
But you went ahead, the impulse or the moment,
   for whatever reason, it just felt right
But then you encounter a seller
   who doesn't believe that the customer is always right

Later, you’ve changed your mind,
   and now there's a mountain of regret
Lamentations and suffering,
   but you can't say that you were misled
To turn back the clock and retrace your steps,
   the urge to recapture
Instead you're left rueing
   the wages of your myopic misadventure

...

The folks from the torrid zone stayed silent,
   as ever, they were reactive
Lacking capital, they’d had to keep their heads down
   and didn’t participate in this initiative
Those out of Agona had tried to heed the warnings of the gods
   and follow their advice
Still, many in their ranks found it hard to live this life
   of restraint and quiet sacrifice

The advocates of social living and the mosquito principle
   were faced with a great dilemma
Soul insurance has always needed better public relations,
   if not crises of power
Greed, expediency, and fear mongering
   were the things that moved the political needle
Restraint was a hard sell,
   the temptation was to seize the moment and veer towards the illegal

The gods observed the situation and gathered
   in the private chambers of the Supreme Council
The claims adjuster narrated the many ways
   in which the tribes had ignored his counsel
What with their philandering ways
   and flagrant violations of common decency and more
Heck they had even flouted conventions
   and needlessly initiated another cold war

Nyame and Nyankopon understood that further punishment was warranted
   and quickly gave their blessing
Odomankoma and Asase Yaa wavered (they had a soft spot)
   but saw the virtue of teaching human beings a lesson
The claims adjuster was given leave
   to continue putting humanity through its paces
He promptly unveiled a new variant that combined all the worst traits.
   He was off to the races

"There's a heavy price to pay for wishful thinking
   and this unseemly nostalgia
'Tis quite the pity, but you can't say you weren't warned"
,
   intoned the claims adjuster
"Recall the Angolan proverb,
   a woman who wants a child doesn't sleep in her clothes
It may sound harsh, but what one reaps come harvest time
   depends on what one sows"


Your narrator, an exiled soul from the torrid zone,
   must now take my leave, Dear Reader
And for the last word in this tall tale,
   we have the quip from Ananse the Spider
Caveat emptor foremost,
   then a piece of wisdom on buyer's remorse that never gets old:
The stone that lies at the bottom of the riverbed cannot complain about feeling cold


never too late



Buyer's Remorse, a playlist


A soundtrack for this note that frankly served as outline for this people's history. (spotify version)

Buyer's Remorse (Series Index)


A covidious folktale
  1. Buying Opportunity
  2. Tempting the Town Crier
  3. The Situation Thereof
  4. Fair Warning
  5. Caveat Emptor


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Writing log. May 9, 2022