Sunday, 20 November 2022

Inside and out.

Hello me dear friends, it is a cool, grey Sunday in me mother new dwelling place. 

Rain, wait...rain falling, like proper falling. Not in sheets but I can hear it outside me window going splickety on concrete. The modern, generic battery-clock on the wall sound as if it marching through time slow-slow, like it is old, wearing heavy boots that go tick...tick...tick...

This is the kinda weather where we should be drinking hot chocolate and reading trashy magazines or rosemantic books.

I think I might do just that, haha, I got some ancient rosemantic books that an auntie send to me mother who refuse to read them. She busy reading Gogol and Omar Khayam and regaling me about them. What a thing, eh? I go to uni to study literature, and I emerge wanting to feed me mind with candy floss and sugar.

Anyway, me dears, before I go, lemme show you a few photos of what I been up to.

I stroll around the back yard.

I cut a piece o' dry banana leaf and doodle on it.

I pack away books on the windowsill.

I set up a cosy li'l space to hide away and write when I need total isolation. Welcome to me casbah.

Yesterday, me sister visit and bring these for me. Aiyyyye, me feet feel the love the whole o' last night.

This morning, I peek through the curtain and notice this for the first time.

Imagine that! Two weeks here and I only now notice this. 

Is as if we sometimes need the greyness of rain approaching to see colour.

Maybe it is a good sign.

Have a creative week and eat well. Take care o' you. Plenty lurve, neena.

Sunday, 13 November 2022


My dear friends, and any passers by...


This is a small, tired puff of phew.

Here me is, one week since I move with me mother to the sunny side o’ Florider, most o’ me puff poofed outta me.

Me dears, I decide if mama want to move again, I ain’t twitching a muscle again. I gon pay somebody to pack, unpack, repack. I ain’t care if I got to sell me toenails to pay.

As for me, I finally learning that other people choices ain’t got to be mine. 

It gon sound selfish but I putting me health first. Me creative writing, and writing as a business, is a priority too. (That is a story for another day.)

I realise this, friends...caring for others don’t mean sacrificing we-self, suffocating we-self, sealing up we dream in a box and shoving it into the back of a cupboard, taking it out to play with it every now and then, putting it away for a few days more with grief in we heart.

We must, we should, find a way to turn we dream into a garden.

Take care of you. Eat well. Think about this, if you can’t take care of you, how you gon take care of them who need you? Wishing you sweet dreams and plenty energy and love,  neena. 

Sunday, 6 November 2022

On the move.

My lovely friends and everyone travelling through…

We travelling too. 

I been packing boxes for days but it feel like months. Mum going to a new home…she going to live with she second son, me Florida brother. I guess I could leave she there but she need help with so many things, and he and he wife got they business to run…I ain’t got it in me heart to say, “Awright, I gone.”

Me friends, I am egg-zausted. Like broke-egg leave out in the sun, I feel like I am burn-out. Aiy yai yai. 

Hopefully, it is a place where I can meet plenty artists, writers, musicians. Weeee. I am excited. 

See you soon.

Home? Where is is home?

Take care of you, rest, eat good food. Plenty love, neena.