The Day After the Night that Was.

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By now the effects of the stewed fruit at breakfast has seen my waist shrink; I am grateful.  The morning after the night that was, I am still elated and humming away that catchy melody from Ludwig Minkus’ greatly composed ballet.  

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After breakfast I decamped at Leicester Square where it was time to enjoy the bright, cool sunlight and catch a movie.  The Vue cinemas are rather interesting; I was keen to know if I would have a repeat of what had transpired last winter. 

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Back then, I was upstairs at the same cinemas watching, Darkest Hour, which proved a real tour de force performance from Gary Oldman.  Sat in the back row, soon I became bloated and expansive.  Though not the least bit drowsy, I felt wide-open and lucidly self-aware.  Next, as the film progressed, I watched as several pure white humanoid forms simply stood up and walked to the sides and quite seamlessly walked through the very real walls of the cinema.  

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One of the things that Merlin and I always loved doing, was seeing a film during its opening weekend.  Naturally, so close to the anniversary of his passing, I was keen on seeing a film.  J. K. Rowling is among my favourite contemporary writers and having seen the first film in this series, it only made sense to go.  

 

 

Whilst waiting for the cinema to open, I caught a series of items; all are favourite actors of mine, especially Sir Kenneth Branagh.  

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The first screening of the day was a special affair with about one third of the theatre occupied.  A lovely Chinese couple sat to my right with their precocious son of about ten years stuck between them.  We chatted briefly and I thought it so strange that conversation with strangers is almost unheard of when attending a Canadian movie.  

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I emerged into the crisp Saturday morning in Leicester Square a bit teary eyed as thoughts of Merlin at one point during the film overwhelmed me.  It was after all the eve of his passing some 29 years earlier.  

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Slipping inside this tiny joint – I always favour hole-in-the-world, ma-n-pa joints, I got a couple of really good slices of pizza whilst pouring through the Times of London.  There was conversation close by, which struck me as interesting; it went from Theresa May and Brexit to Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex.  I soon realised that both persons were openly criticised chiefly for being women; in the case of the Ms. May, she is dismissed and not taken seriously chiefly for being female.  As for Meghan, like every woman who marries into the BRF, she is readily reviled, though, some of this has bordered on racial hysteria and seriously threatening.  

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In a bid to cleanse my very soul, after all that, I slipped from Leicester Square for the uplifting sophistication of the National Gallery where I deftly moved through my favourite salons with usual mercurial speed, taking the time to pause and admire the key works of art that bring me the greatest pleasure.  

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Well, after all that art, it was time for more prowling the decidedly unCanadian wintry streets of London.  Along Shaftesbury, I strode my Crockett & Jones booted and blistered feet into Neal Street where my favourite hippy-dippy (as Merlin would remark) New Age store, The Astrology Shop in Covent Garden.  Though, it most definitely does not have the best choices, I still love the feel of the place and their sagebrush collection is second to none.   

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Along with marvellous pieces of crystals and a wonderful Citrine, I really connected with this gorgeous agate ring.  The moment that I saw it, I really resonated with me and it felt so right. 

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After a rather warm conversation with a green-eyed, redhead, she was fascinated by my custom Reuben Mack messenger bag.  

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I then headed back to The British Museum for more shopping.  As it was the weekend, there was now a sizeable lineup to gain entry.  As though my impatience with crowds were not enough but soon, I had two Torontonian women doing what Canadians do best; they spent much of their time gawking at me, talking about me and cultural appropriation for wearing the custom Reuben Mack messenger.  Standing there in line, I was reminded of what petty, small-minded bigoted jackasses the average Canadian can be and god do they love being openly racially predatory towards blacks. 

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Never once had I experienced a scintilla of racial animus from a Briton or for being in London to that point; there you have it, the land where racism is enshrined in law: employment equity law of Canada: All employers must employ, Caucasians, First Nations persons, Disabled persons and visible minorities and therein is the framework of Canada’s own form of Apartheid – state sanctioned racism.  All employers, in particular crown corporations (government agencies – federal and provincial) employ visible minorities to the exclusion of blacks and if and when they do employ blacks, they then hire blacks only as casual workers which means they are not entitled to benefits, pension and guaranteed hours.  

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So smugly established is this state of affairs that the current prime minister refused to attend the 50th anniversary of Caribana – the nations West Indian community’s gift to Canada on its 100th birthday in 1967; however, he attends ever Gay pride parade in the same city as Caribana, Toronto, and has repeatedly been to India, to dress up and act a right clown because who gives a damn about blacks in Canada.  As one friend said, blacks over the past three decades have become as marginalised as First Nations persons.  But enough about aggressive young souls and their racialised worldview.  Meanwhile, as they were openly rude towards me whilst queueing to enter the British Museum, I grabbed my phone and pretended to film them to which one of them suddenly became enraged, demanding that I not film her…  You have to laugh or truly you would go mad.  In any event, I got the feisty Buster a nice but scary Egyptian stuffed cat – he is actually afraid of it.  

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On my return to the hotel, a couple of blocks from The British Museum, I slumped into bed and decided that my aching feet needed a break from the rest of the day’s planned events.  To that end, I stayed in that night rather than return to Barbican Hall to catch a celebration of the Windrush Migration.  At that concert were to have been Calypso Rose and The Mighty Sparrow; though it had been years since last seeing either performer, I just was not into it.  Moreover, I wanted to take the time to be with myself and reflect on the eve of Merlin’s passing some 29 years earlier.  

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As ever, thanks for your ongoing support and ever remember to push off and start flying.  

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©2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.  

David Bowie 1947†2016

David Bowie

Lazarus ©2015 Music & Lyrics David Bowie

Sweet and blissful dreams be yours.  Some of my best memories of living in Babylon/Manhattan involved hanging out with Philip Emerson for whom everyday was a good enough reason to play David Bowie’s music.

A true creative genius and someone whom it was also inspiring to have dreamt of.  Here’s a repost/link to a dream previously shared herein involving him and his beautiful widow, Iman, displaying for all the universe the sheer beauty of their enraptured love.

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Bowie, David 8/1/47 – 10/1/16

This fragment was a fifth-level mature artisan in the passion mode with a goal of discrimination.  David was a sceptic who was in the intellectual part of emotional centre.

David’s primary chief feature was impatience with a secondary chief feature of stubbornness.

David’s casting is the fifth position of the third cadence in the fourth greater cadence.  He is a member of entity six, cadre six, greater cadre 1, pod 404.

This artisan chose overleaves that would allow him to be more fluid in terms of personal expression whilst at the same time work effectively with the goal of discrimination, specifically in terms of not adhering social and cultural stereotypes and, as a result, he became an icon in his own right to other fragments who preferred not to follow the cookie-cutter rules and instead sought their own personalised self-expressive nature.

Of course, David was not the only fragment to break the barriers in this regard as others including but not limited to Andy Warhol, for example, who were also at the fifth or expansive level of the mature cycle and these fragments served as inspiration to others both in their own culture and across the pond.

It is not unusual for expression polarity fragments to seek visibility in this regard, though, we will say that this artisan, David Bowie, was in fact shy to some degree and was not as adventurous in his personal life as he might have been perceived to have been.  In other words, his stage personae were not in complete alignment with the true personality.  We do think, however, that he was well aware of himself as a spirited human being and did validate reincarnation as a personal truth as did his family by the way.

Too, this fragment was well aware of impending decline and death and did seek to express himself through his music and subsequently his fans.

*These overleaves were not exclusively requested by me but they were channelled by an authentic Michael Channeller and, in fact, the reliable channeller whom I always use.  END.

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©2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Mood Indigo.

Duke Ellington and Orchestra.

Nothing like some Ellington after a truly sublime dream.  These are our high-priests.  Happy Black History Month!

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© 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Autumn Leaves.

Autumn Leaves: Kosma, Mercer, Prevent.

© 1950-1958, Ballards and Blues, Blue Note Records

Miles Davis and various artists

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© 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

My Favourite Things.

John Coltrane Quartet, 1965, Belgium

Nothing finer…  Merry Christmas.  Happy holidays and thanks for your continued patronage.  I love you more…

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© 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Horowitz: Live in Vienna (1987)

A Good Photo Vladimir_Horowitz

A week prior to his passing, Merlin was allowed out of Wellesley Hospital to wind down his ennobled incarnation.  That first evening, Friday, November 10, 1989, we sat in our 20 Amelia Street living room and listened to Vladimir Horowitz as he had requested.

Earlier that week, on Sunday, November 5, 1989, Vladimir Horowitz had passed.  Enveloped in our waxing love, our souls were embalmed by Horowitz’s stellar artistry.

Shaman.  Genius.  Guru.  For both Merlin and me, there was no greater combo of these qualities than embodied in Vladimir Horowitz.

The following day, actor, Joe Morton would fly in from Los Angeles for 24 hours to say farewell to Merlin.  Though Merlin had not eaten in long weeks, his Candida precluded being able to ingest solids, he pulled up a chair and joined Joe and me as we dined on Chinese take-out.

This one act of Joe’s allowed Merlin to heal from the rejection of having been abandonned by his god-fugly Toronto so-called friends and leave this world void the bile of having been rejected – they chose to act as they did because, at the end of the day, a dog can always be counted on to lick itself and eat its vomit.

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Horowitz

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A good Vladimir and Wanda

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Photo: Vladimir Horowitz.  Vladimir Horowitz and Wanda Toscanini.

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© 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Glamour Crew.

Oil on Canvas 153 x 239 Inches © 1993 Attila Richard Lukacs Provenance: Private Collection Attila Richard Lukacs. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attila_Richard_Lukacs http://www.attilarichardlukacs.com/index.php http://www.dianefarrisgallery.com/artist/lukacs/love/index.html This is what genius is all about… on another note, add a bit of moss and a few Sitkas et voilà, you’ve got Stanley Park after dark. ________________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________________ © 2013-2020 Arvin da Brgha. […]