One of the problems of sharing a building is the enforced sharing of your deaf neighbour's choice of radio station. Like all now, as I take my out-of-house gorilla, cheroot by any other name, sitting on the steps I'm being blasted by the distortions of the local news.It probably goes something like this: "Tree dronk cyar, diss regardin an regardless of de law of de lan assiduously mounted Constable Vishnu Bhagwandeen while he was administering de bretaliser to six judge an a magistrate, on de Avenue in de wee wee hours of larse night. Five of de judge swear blue, black an green it was only two cyar and dey cyar see de sense in dat, while de magistrate and de larse judge say is bess tuh fugget all dat an go lime wit Johnny Walker.
Constable Bhagwandeen is warded somewhere between the Chirren horspittle in Central or the advanced health centre in St Joseph–which is really in Mt Hope. He may be in a stable condition, or in a stable watchin baby Jesus sleepin, or quite simply lorst. Sergeant Ebeneezer Riley is feverishly pulling stones to make sure no boulder is leff unturn, so dat nobody go say he movin like a Chinee and lapsing. De tree dronk cyar is recuperatin well in de stale dronk section of de impongded vehicle lockup an will not be out until de Chirren horspittle done finish."
A little digression goes a long way and to make mine even longer I can cite some illustrious antecedents. Take two of my favourite books– Laurence Sterne's 18th century Tristram Shandy and the voluminous and much more recent (1966) Paradiso by Cuban poet Jose Lezama Lima.
While both purport to be fictional biographies, neither stick with chronology, or even their supposed subject, but chase the tail of seemingly entirely irrelevant tales, which may or not have something to do with their elusive protagonists. All of which pleases me mightily, although I don't think Shandy or Paradiso would go down well in any Creative Writing course, as Sterne and Lima show scant respect for all the rules of fiction. But I never was too fond of rules, which to improvise on Oscar Wilde, are surely there to be broken, or as in the case of the three drunk cars, simply disregarded.
I began with "one" and slowly any unsurely I might get back there, but doh frighten, everyting happen fuh a reason ent, even if de reason geh lorst. Becor den it have no reason to be chasin after reason cep fuh wutlessness an Bon Dieu know good good dat man more wutless dan reasonable an wha good fuh Bon Dieu good fuh allowe. So hush, doh rush de brush and geh orn like dem mad mad people an dem on de road only blowin horn an tekkin horn an ragin an raisin up me pressure so ah feelin tuh come out de cyar an lie in de road an bawl–"Bounce me nah."
One can really only take so much, more than that is just plain greedy. So one time, lewwe return to one and leh de fun and rongabout continue. Ah comin; no ah lie; ah goin an grab anudder gorilla, so in troot an fack ah comin tuh come–buh doh look fuh me wit yuh farse self. Patience is a virtue we can all learn something from, although it's taken me a lifetime and I still ain't reach. Ah comin, ah goin, now ah gorn, but not troo. Hole strain or whistle, or go chase agouti.
Look me ah back an yuh ain't even know ah gorn. Huh, yuh feel ah easy? Well sometimes. So before I run out of words and time, it's time to wish you all–A Happy New Year. Because this is uno por uno time, your time and mine. I'm not too sure where the last week went and it seems like only yesterday or even tomorrow, that I was wishing you all Merry Christmas.
But like all the gifts I didn't get from the red Bimmer to the baby boy I'm still waiting for, doh worry wi dat. If I was a Rasta, like my sometime alter ego Ras Levi I would say–Praise Jah for a whole new year.
Me, I'm still giving thanks I made it through the last one and lucky enough to be in on the beginning of another. Everything is possible in the kingdom of this world, speculated my late partner, the original Cuban magical realist, Alejo Carpentier. I tend to agree. So many resolutions to be made–and possibly broken; but certainly all the possibilities we wish for ourselves.
As my small daughter told me the other night: you have five wishes but only one can be granted. What's your wish for 2015?