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

Sometimes, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Sometimes by Bilal
• Sometimes by Erykah Badu
• Sometimes by Brand New Heavies
• Sometimes I Cry by Les McCann
• Sometimes (Mix #9) by Erykah Badu
• Sometimes I Cry by Eric Benet
• Sometimes by Mint Condition

See also Regret, a playlist

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

File under: humour, life, technology, culture, observation, hatchet job, rogues, failure, politics, war, Iraq, USA, Bush, England, media, Observers are worried, Buyer's Remorse, humour, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 4, 2022

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

Ingredients of Catharsis, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Kinshasa Mboka Ya Makambo by Franco
  A striking mood piece, if this was a concert opener, you'd know you were in for a very special treat.
• The Ingredients of Love by Angie Stone and Musiq Soulchild
• Salt by Lizz Wright
• I Want a Little Sugar in my Bowl by Nina Simone
• Testify by Sounds of Blackness
• Been so Long by Anita Baker
• Just don't want to be Lonely by The Main Ingredient
• I Shall be Released by Nina Simone
• The Pressure by Sounds of Blackness
• Nice 'n Greasy by Lou Donaldson
• At Last by Etta James
• Release by Hil St. Soul
• Kinshasa Mboka Ya Makambo by Franco (live)
  The live rendition always stops me in my tracks, the simplicity of the performance, the way he grips the audience taking his time to cajole, lament and celebrate his return. He never forgot his roots, his people and this city of many troubles. Franco is sorely missed, a legend in African music.

File under: culture, observation, perception, displacement, poetry, toli

Writing log. June 3, 2022

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

Old School, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• Old school by Lucky Mensah
• Obsolete by Mc Solaar
• A bit old-fashioned by Babyface
• Rock me tonight (for old times's sake) by Freddie Jackson
• Old fashioned by Cee-Lo
• I'm old fashioned by John Coltrane
• Flavour of the old school by Beverly Knight
• Old school by CunninLynguists
• Old school feeling by Rebelution
• Old school by Burning Spear

File under: humour, technology, adoption, culture, life, observation, perception, poetry, toli

Writing log. May 15, 2022

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

Toli Theme, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note, consider this a musical manifesto of sorts. (spotify version)

• Strategy by Archie Bell & The Dells
• Stories by Carleen Anderson
• Conception by Black Thought
• Searching by Roy Ayers
• Social Living by Burning Spear
• Weaver of Dreams by Kenny Burrell

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.


File under: culture, observation, perception, strategy, creative process, writing, Buyer's Remorse, poetry, toli

Writing log: March 23, 2022

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

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.

File under: sensory, culture, observation, perception, Buyer's Remorse, emotion, lyricism, life, love, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log: April 9, 2022