To be profoud or notprofound_ : Nova Trindade

25 Nov

ome awesome things are about to happen with art in Trinidad

via To be profoud or notprofound_ : Nova Trindade.



16 Apr

It had been a while.  Too long actually.

He felt the weakness in his legs as he stood up, as though his strength was deserting him just when he needed it the most.  The accident left his confidence shattered.  He thought he had finished his recovery, but his usual ‘doh care damn’ faltered.  He would now have to consciously do it.  And stumble.  And fail.

He walked into the office.

“May I have an application form?”

Sebastian’s First Day

29 Jun

Sebastian Corbin felt strange.  The HoneyPot was nowhere near the 5-year career goal he had created for himself.  However, layoffs at the publicity firm caused him to have to seek unchartered possibilities.  Here he was in his first marketing meeting.  Rowan was in the process of trying to retire, but how could she really let her baby go?

Rowan stood up and immediately smartphones were turned off and all eyes snapped to her.  Sebastian had never seen such proof of power.  No, not power, respect.  Simple and elegant.  It was rumoured that it was because of her that an old bordello could become such a beacon of decadence.

“Kalian, could you give us a rundown of our customer survey?”

“Our numbers are essentially the same as last month’s.  We did get hit in a couple areas because of the conventions, however, the bulk of these complaints did state that they were ‘extremely satisfied’ with problem resolution from front-line staff.”

“That’s great.  Of course, our House Manager stated that they would be making extra efforts to have some part-time staff so that we can assist with the rush periods.”

“Yeah, that’s a promise he’s been making for years.” Roger was always whispering.  Sebastian did not dare look in his direction.  Neither did Rowan.  For her, it was the ultimate insult to deprive you of her precious attention.  As much as Sebastian hated her for it, he craved her eye contact.

“Zaid, anything from the comment cards?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.  A guest stated that she really loves our lamps.  Mags in Reservations already emailed her the link.”

Sebastian made a little note of the link to check later.  Zaid noticed the new guy writing and decided to elaborate:

“Almost anything you like in one of our rooms, you can purchase online.  It doesn’t matter what it is: the bed, the lamp, clock, curtains, even our flooring is for sale.  I think the spa even sells our Aphrodisiac teas online.”

Sebastian was impressed.  He would have given a low whistle and was in the process of doing so when he stopped himself.  These people would surely smell his newbie blood in the water and eviscerate him with office politics.

Then the Event Director, Mr. Russell Thomas Dillon, had the floor:
“As usual, we have had an upswing in parties due to the upcoming wedding season.  The usual rash of bachelor parties are already being booked and quite the surge in bachelorette parties from last year. I have already sent the email with the event forecast for the quarter.”

Sebastian had seen the figures.  They were impressive.  He didn’t realise how much of The HoneyPot’s revenue came from events.  He was able to appear nonchalant.  It was clear to him that he had much more research to do.


After the meeting, Rowan called him to her office.  They sat on the low couch where he could see the water.

“You still have questions, don’t you?”

“You seem to be anticipating them quite well, too.”

“There really is very little difference in running a hotel, which is why I suggested the classes to you.  I forgot that you are a single father, though.  I spoke to corporate and they approved you for the online executive training.”

Sebastian was shocked.  No one ever suspected this woman of being pleasant.  When people introduced themselves in the cafeteria, they offered to pray that he survived his time with her.  She certainly did not appreciate slacking off, or shoddy work.  Neither did he, but she had quite a talent for surprises.  She then shooed him to go do some online training while she handled some paperwork.

The videos were rather boring, and he kept scoring the maximum points that he knew would impress no one.  He considered going for coffee, but he didn’t want to seem like a slacker on the first day.

Suddenly, a medium height man in a purple bathrobe with cream pyjamas walked into the lobby.  Sebastian had his hand on the security button, when he decided to man up.  It was a whorehouse after all.  This man was probably the head pimp or whatever when on in the ‘in room services’ division.

“Mr. Ironhouse!  Step into my office and make yourself comfortable!”

The man smiled and Sebastian was shocked.  Dipping into your own merchandise? Shocking!  Although prostitution was legal and widespread, the more bourgeois of society such as himself simply did not condone such lascivious behaviours!  He could not resist peeking through the glass to the side of the door.  Horny bitch didn’t even have the decency to pull the blinds for her midmorning tumble!

The sight that greeted his eyes shocked him almost senseless.  Rowan was on the computer showing something to Mr. Ironside or whatever his name was.  He was making notes in a spiral notebook.  Sebastian decided it was time for some coffee after all.  His low-class, judgemental mind needed a break.

Copyright 2012 ©

A Love Story

22 Jun

Evie couldn’t recall feeling such uncertainty.  She didn’t realise that she finally encountered the Good Girls’ Conundrum #1: Confronting your mother.  Her mother  had simple mind.  While you would think that simple minds were easy to change, one could be blindsided by the fact that they hold on to their precious little knowledge.

She considered the ramifications.  And that meant creating her Weighted Scores pros and cons list.

All signs pointed to pro: confront Anjana.  But something told her that it was a bad idea.  After all, when had she ever confronted her mother about something serious?

She never had any luxuries or fancy things.  But Anjana tried her best.  Her birthdays were 3-people affairs.  After all, when you’re poor, three people are a party.

With that memory burning a hole in her conscience, tears came to her eyes.  What right did she have to confront her mother?  After all those years of sacrifice working in a glorified whorehouse as a room attendant just so that she wouldn’t starve.  Not allowing herself a boyfriend so that she wouldn’t be molested – not that Mr. Jones didn’t try.  Really, what right did she have?

But Anjana needed to hear that she knew.  She was an educated adult and should be able to have a conversation.

That’s it, she thought.  It’s a conversation, not a confrontation.

An audible yawn pierced the early morning silence.  Anjana shuffled into the room and peeped at Evie.  Curiosity took over and then a feeling of dread.

“Why are you in a suit?  Something in school?”

“No mama.  I got a job.  The people I interned for last year offered me a job and I am going to take it.”

“Evie, there will be plenty time for work. You should be doing your Masters in two months.  If it is another internship, fine.  But you need to concentrate on your Masters.”

“Mama, you wanted to retire at sixty.  While you look as though you have another twenty years before you do that, you are sixty one.  Isn’t it time you retired?  Get the rest that you wanted?”

“Not with inflation making my savings look like chicken scratch.  I couldn’t afford food; much less send you to school.”

“But Mama…”

“It would be what? Two years?  I can hold out for that.  Don’t let money be an issue.”

This was a great offer, and one that she did not want to pass up.  In fact, it would shorten her 5-year career goal into three short years.  Why pass on that?

“Mama, you are not obligated to me, much less to put your life on hold for me.”

Anjana’s eyes grew big.

“How could you?”

“Easy.  I never felt different.  I just knew that I had a mother who loved me.  I didn’t know who my father was, but then neither did half my class.  It was the way Aunty Liza would treat me like if I had a disease.  It took me a long time to realise that in her own way she was right.  I did have a disease.  I didn’t have Alexsingh blood in my veins.”
Anjana stood up ready to argue.  Evie regretted her words instantly.  Tact wasn’t her forte.  No choice now but to hope she would blunder her way to a solution.

“It didn’t matter, because I had your love.  You are my birth mother.  My real life started whenever I came to live with you.  And you took care of me all my life.  It is now time for me to take care of you.”

“Evie, we have bills to pay, a mortgage that doesn’t seem to end, your schooling isn’t complete, and inflation isn’t going to let me retire anytime soon.  I am the mother here, I still have responsibilities.”

“To whom? I have a job now.  I will be bringing home four times what you make making up beds at the HoneyPot.”

Anjana’s eyes widened.  Evie should be getting that Masters.  Education was important, that much she knew.  Before she could frame a response, Evie spoke again.

“Of course, I would need assistance at home with coordinating a wardrobe for work, and breakfast in the morning.”
“I do that for you anyway.”

“Why not get paid to do it?  Depending on how things go with work, I might be doing my Masters anyway.  Then I would really need you.  Please Mama, think about it.”

Copyright © 2012

The Pickup

14 Jun

Kai stretched in the car.  Most likely he was working late.  To be fair, she hadn’t even told him that she was picking him up, so she sent him a text.  She also hoped that he had not hooked up with a female co-worker.  That was exactly how Debbie wormed her way into his heart.

To be fair to Debbie, Phil was unstoppable with the ladies.  He was a lovable mix of domestic skills with enough machismo to choke a football team.  He was the tiniest centre to ever grace a basketball court.  She smiled and stretched again.

She had already made up her mind that she was not going to tell him about her ex harassing her.  Even though she initiated the breakup, she still felt like a failure.  And with him harassing her, she felt like if she couldn’t even manage a breakup properly.

Phil hated him.  He often said if any of his women were half of Kai, he would have been a married man.  Kai laughed.  She often wondered what she had done wrong.  After all, it was in her nature to analyse situations to figure out right from wrong.  It was the only way to learn from experience.

In the aftermath of the breakup, she and Phil had become inseparable.  Even Debbie was sympathetic.  As a matter of fact. Debbie wanted to kill him.  Debbie and Phil on the other hand…

Then came a knock on the front passenger side.

“Kai, ‘sup?”

“Nun.  Couldn’t sleep, so I went driving.  When I realised I was close by, I decided to pick you up.”

“Do you want me to drive?”  He was always offering to help her out.

“Nah, I can take you home.”

“Stay the night, okay? Mom cleaned the guest room today.  So you can spend the night.”

“No clothes for work tomorrow.”

“Oh please, between Mom and Debbie, I can probably improve your wardrobe.”

“I don’t dress that bad!”

“Not for a boy.”

And on and on they went.  As a matter of fact, she never got to tell him that her ex was harassing her again.  Around Phil, problems like that didn’t matter.

Copyright © 2012


8 Jun

It was a traumatic break-up.  Her face was still sore from all the crying.

She wanted to move on, but she couldn’t conquer her fear of intimacy.  Her friends gave her a lovely leather-bound envelope and fled.  It was a sex coupon.  She hated them with a passion and avoided their calls for two weeks before she broke down and almost called her ex.  It was while reaching for the phone she saw the envelope which had not been lost in the chaos.  One phone call later and now she was waiting on a gorgeous bed with royal blue satin sheets.

She sat straight at the edge of the bed waiting for the knock…at least she hoped they would knock!  She didn’t want the absolute stranger that she was about to copulate with walking in on her unannounced.  She was all nerves with no defenses.  She regretted on ordering a drink.  Or a bottle.  Her hand was on the phone when the knock came.

Should she tell him to come in? Or should she open the door?

“Come in.” because after all, she was comfortable on the bed.  Or as comfortable as one could be when waiting to purchase coitus.

He walked in and turned so that she could appraise him.  Not being confident enough to bluff it like a veteran, she cried on the phone to the reservation agent and admitted her inexperience, and her broken heart.  Maggie promised to take care of her.  She nodded her consent and he closed the door and walked over to the bed.  He knelt on the carpet and kissed her hand.  It sent chills up her spine and she promptly did what she thought would have been a dignified thing to do: she burst into tears.

His face registered surprise, but he sat on the bed next to her and held her while stroking her hair.  She calmed down.  But then she fell asleep.  He covered her up and put her coupon back in her bag with a note:

When you wake up call me.

The Thriller Philler .

Phil remembered Kai’s heartbreak and how she would just cry.  It took a while for her to regain her footing, but he would never think of buying her a sex coupon.  She must feel so truly alone.  He wanted her though.  He just wanted her to enjoy it.  He had a reputation to think of, after all.

Copyright © 2012

Symphony of Bodies

8 Jun

An old poem to entertain while I slay the Procrastinator!


Movement I:

Adagio: Slow intro in continuously developing form
Let’s get in tune…
Place your lips against mine
And let us sing a song with no lyrics
In perfect harmony
For where your tongue leads…
Mine joyously follows
Your hands conduct and my body is the instrument of your passion…

Movement II:
Allegro: Fast movement in sonata
Our clothes fly like the notes of a violin
And the bed is too far away
So the floor is our stage
The full moon peeking through the curtain is our spotlight
And on and on we sing,
Now accompanied by trumpets
Me soprano, you baritone.
For apart, we are two voices…
…Together we are one song.

Movement III:
Minuet: Moderately fast movement in two-part forms
The melody of our song with no words
Driven by the unified percussion of our our hearts
And the rhythm intensifies till my entire body arches
To catch even the gentlest tones of the harp
You play with my heart strings and I quiver with each touch…

Movement IV:
Presto: Fast movement in sonata in a tonic or basic key.
Here we maintain a flame so hot it burns our very souls
But our spirits keep the beat up
Turning the heat up
Playing louder,
Harder…Until at the end
It is just the duet of our breaths
Bodies beaded with the sweat of each other
The only jewelery we will need tonight
For this, the grandest performance of our lives.

© Copyright 2008 Nichola Dinnoo

The Observation of Fernando J Max (or) Three Credit Cards

4 Jun

Three credit cards. None of them work.

Grace and I are amused by the… peril, the couple at the counter now face. There seems to be a problem with their cards, they are told. But really, I think they had no money to begin with. Look at his shoes. Look at her zirconium. Look at the poor fools trying to pay for services rendered with a personal check.

Grace giggles softly. “Do you remember?” she asks

“I’ve been trying to forget, actually.”

Why do people feel compelled to live beyond their means? Surely there must be some mom and pops establishment nearby that they could’ve gone to. It wouldn’t be a Honey Pot of course, but… if you can’t buy honey, there’s no harm settling for cane.

Before frequenting here, Grace and I ventured into a cosy little bed and breakfast type. The rates were reasonable. The service was above board. People said, “good morning” and they were actually appreciative of your business. And I never felt the need to slap the hostess… owner… hostess… whatever they’re called now. I digress, but the point is, there are ACTUAL places that afford customers a decent enough menu, based on what they could afford. No need to come here and embarrass oneself. Especially after you have had your belly full. Or is that ‘filled’?

“Fernando, sometimes, people just want to splurge.” Grace whispered through the giggling.

“Yes but splurging first demands savings, darling.” I could tell by Grace’s groaning that I had most definitely entered teacher mode.

“Or it could simply mean throwing care to the wind. And doing what you want.”
“I did throw Care to the wind. She was quite ambidextrous.”

“A gymnast I believe.”

We burst into uncontrollable laughter, causing the entire lobby to turn and stare. The couple seemed to jolt. They wore their shame like badly sewn underwear. I can tell they were still trying to negotiate their way out of this cock up.

“You think they’ll make them do the dishes?” I asked, more to myself that Grace.

“Maybe they’ll do more. She does have a nice figure. He’s not too bad looking either.”

“You want them?”

Grace shot me that look, took the keys from the counter, grabbed her carry on and headed upstairs.

I chuckled at the couple. I couldn’t blame them really. The platter here is excellent. I can see why they would risk the embarrassment.

So I walked on over and with a knowing smile, paid their bill. After all, it seemed the religious thing to do.

By Tracy J Hutchings


4 Jun

He had failed in his mission.  He was supposed to ask Mr. Fernando Max to read his proposal and get his feedback.  So what if he wasn’t Mr. Max’s niche industry?  He just knew that he was the right person to be a part of his new plan.

Nasia nestled closer to him.  Him being awake was messing up her sleep patterns.  He needed to lie down asap.  He woke her up just for her to fall asleep again with her head on his diaphragm.  Having trouble breathing, he was able to eventually manoeuvre her to his shoulder.  She lay curled up and he knew she wasn’t going to budge.

He should have just walked up to him and spoken.  Fernando Max’s arrogance was legendary. But he appreciated boldness. He was quite certain that his ego would have been tickled by the concept of mentoring him

He also knew that his thinking was wrong. He needed the help. And he needed to ask for it. Nasia woke up next to him. She asked him if he spoke to Fernando Max.

“Chickened out. I don’t know what why though.”

“We ‘ll talk to him soon though. Big things are going to happen for you soon babe. ”

And then she fell asleep. Nasia was his perfect woman. He remembered their whirlwind romance.  And he remembered discovering the scars. She looked so badass he didn’t ask for fear that it would turn out to be the worst case scenario. It was months before she would tell him. He would ask for answers and she would leave the room. If he tried to speak to her on the phone, she would hang up.  It was the mitigating factor in moving back home.

It was the abuse.  After the controlling and manipulating, followed by physical assault, it was just the breath of fresh air that she needed.  She was afraid of him though.  It was not knowing where the next blow was coming from that was draining her.

He knew all this now…but so much time was wasted because she didn’t want to insult him.  He remembered kissing the still-raw scars although she could barely feel the kisses.  He remembered the nightmares.  She was a broken woman determined to heal on her own strength.  He was determined that his strength be hers.

It was a rainy Saturday morning when the text came.  He went outside to see her dripping wet outside his front door.  And the sweetest words he ever heard come out of her mouth:

“I need to tell you something.”

Copyright © 2012


18 May

It was a pleasant affair.  The sound of glasses clinking in the air and everyone was air kissing.  Phil didn’t come.  Samantha, disappointed, looked around and then went over to her rental.  She took his arm and smiled.  This one, Don, was good at conversation.  She just hoped that Phil wasn’t with that Kai person.  Kai was a tomboy, for crying out loud.

Don touched her face with the edge of his glass.  The chill brought her back to the room.  He turned back to his conversation.  It was then that she realised that he was speaking to Mrs. Gracie Max.  Her mouth dried up when she realised that she was in the presence of Fashion Royalty.  She felt rather out of place with her twice-worn dress and roadside pearls.

Mrs. Max was clearly sizing up her rental.  She did not want to leave alone tonight.  First Phil, and now Don.  Mrs. Max’s appetite was legendary at the HoneyPot.  However, corporate policy dictated client confidentiality.  She sighed.

“You are cute, but something tells me I have seen you before.  Tell me what you are wearing, darling.”

Now Samantha wished for death.  To enumerate: One, her date was all starry eyed over Mrs. Max.  Two, she knew she had worn that dress in public.  Three, she bought her pearl necklace from a guy who puts together beads on a Saturday morning in the market.  Four, Mrs. Max asked her what she was wearing.

“It is my new favourite dress.  My friend made this for me in class.  I wore it already, but I…”

“You know what tires me about people? Just because I made a killing in the fashion industry doesn’t mean that I am not human.  A great garment becomes a favourite, and you purposefully make sure that you are in a situation to wear it over and over again.  Why should you apologise?  Tell your friend to give me a call sometime.  Just take it off the HoneyPot records.  I would love to put this into production!  Anyhow darlings, let me get back to my husband.  I don’t want to disturb him with that angel he just snagged, but he has a flight to catch.”

Samantha was speechless.

Dominic watched Mr. and Mrs. Max from across the room.  His eyes were on them all day.  He left Nasia with her books at home.  He had his questions for Mr. Max.  For example, how did he become the standard for manliness while looking like a spider monkey and having a wife that publicly called him ‘Fern’?  How did he get someone as fiercely independent as Grace to marry him?  Was marriage worth the effort, or should he remain with medium-term contracts?  Would Mr. Max be so gracious as to look at his proposal for a business venture that needs investors?

Copyright © 2012

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