Making a rapid exit from a fcked situation in Little Bay to Negril, Westmoreland Parish, Jamaica (excerpts) on the back of a motorbike (classic Jamco), sometimes with one other passenger besides ace driver, saying hello to village folks along they way.
Music from: Festival Songs Through the Years, vol. 1, incl.
* Ras Karbi, I’ll Never Leave You Again * Toots and the Maytalls, Bam Bam * The Astronauts, Meck Wi Jam * Stanley and the Turbine, Dem Haffi Squirm
While i started enjoying haircuts when i found a barber shop which also offered libations, good tunes, pinball and the like, since “the illness” I made a list of things I can do which involves sitting down, but gets me out of the house, and leaves me with a feeling of satisfaction. These include: making scrapbooks, seeing matinée movies, sitting in parks under a tree, getting my beard professionally trimmed (rather than chopping at it myself) plus trim up the haircut,… as well as pedicures documented elsewhere.
While rambling, i like to seek out the hole-in-the-wall, no fuss, traditional barbers and enjoy a leisurely visit. Its hit or miss sometimes but ya know, hair grows back right?
Sometimes, not always, i grab a snap with the barber or the shop or me before and after… sometimes i don’t so you won’t see those. Oh sometimes i recall names and/or locations, this is not meant to be comprehensive, just amusing and vaguely documentary.
This assortment features barbers in international locations (meaning not Canada and USA), moreorless (pending).
High in Jamaica, Uncle Weed visits Black Ras’ abundant mountain growfield to discuss “swamp weed” grown in morass versus “hard land weed” grown in volcanic soil with bat guano, plus varieties of ganja strains – both domestic and imported. Plus background about his family teaching him the ways of growing most anything and living an Ital lifestyle.
Embarking on meandering natural healing journey around Asia, Indian sub-continent, Arabia, Mediterranean, across Canada, US rocky mountain canyons, and to Grateful Dead anniversary shows while emerging from a fog after chronic and complex illness diagnosis resulting in lost years due to prescription meds.
High up a mountaintop of ancient uplifted coral, unaccompanied by bodyguards, escalades or a single Marley (unlike “reincarnated” snoop), I found a happy place– surrounded by thousands of little ladies. I squeezed the buds to savour the moment and smells of mangos and papayas, limes and skunks.
Note audio recorder in hand. My wanders are different now. I still wonder. Snapped with a single-use disposable camera
From a cabin in Jamaica comes a spoken word song made from loops, samples and layers of spoken and sorta-sung vocals inventing stories about a workers’ boarding hall which burned down years back and the foundations sits, still.