Beyoncé & Beyond

Doing a step back in the alphabet for this recent mp3 collection addition filed under ‘b’ for Beyoncé: Beyoncé, Lemonade. While listening to Lemonade I decided to add her previous release to my collection. Self-titled, it is a fun set of songs which acts as a prelude for what comes later. Productions values are state of the art but it lacks identity – where as Lemonade is making a clear statement.On this cd is Linda Martell’s Color Me Country. Steel guitars & country standards from the first African-American woman to appear on the Grand Ole Opry in 1969. Sweet stuff. On the cd is also Peggy Scott & Jo Jo Benson’s Lovers Holiday: a best of collection by this duo that falls between country folk and soul. I really love the sitar sound guitar work on several of the tracks here.Also a full soul blast with Curtis Mayfield Live – he’s is fine form at the Bitter End. Hits, covers, some raps & an amazing version of People Darker Than Blue. To round things out I added a couple free ep downloads from EarthTone: GMale & New Balance -he’s a black, gay, hard spitting hip-hop rising star. No holds barred sexuality more political as opposed to raunch. Check him out on iTunes or here: (EarthTone) Added a couple of tracks by local rapper Nanu Alidina (he’s on iTunes). Solid, well recorded and proud to be in Toronto.Finally MRF’s latest ep release Yasko Sensei. Jazzy sexy and worth tracking down. As you can tell this is another of my era/genre spanning cds. I love the mix of retro, obscure, sexualities, politics and ultra current.

Reality

The smell of food cooking drifted out to the street. I stopped to figure out if it was steak or chicken, mashed potato or cabbage roll, food for four or just a single little plate for one.

A door slammed.

A dog barked.

A baby cried.

Children rushed past. Their feet thumped the sidewalk around me. One brushed my arm. They didn’t look back in their happy chase around the block.

Someone came out a front door to put garbage bags by the curb. Must be garbage pick up in the morning. I’d better remember to bring mine out. Once I had cooked my little meal – for two.

A car pulled up and parked. A man, woman, teenage boy got out. Words must have been spoken. A stale air of unfinished conversation hovered in their glances. The boy followed them up the steps and to a house. Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong .

‘I told you there would be no one home.’

‘Try again for Christ sake. We didn’t drive all this way for nothing.’

The boy’s eyes catch mine. A plea? An apology? He is older than I thought. Maybe in his mid 20’s. A nice ripe age.

The door opens and they are sucked into the dark house out of the light of day.

His look stays with me as I climb the steps to my house. I unlock my door. Step in.

‘Hello?’

Empty. As I knew it would be but one always hopes the other will be home first. The first one home get the joy of privacy for a few minutes. The cost of that joy is of course the preparation of an evening meal.

My feet are warm from the walk, the all day travel from one point to another and back to here. A circle. A life in circles, intersecting circles.

I circle up the stairs to my room. It is at the front of the house. I can look out on the street and I undress, as I shuck off my work day skin for my real flesh. Bare flesh for a few moments. Feet happy for release, waist glad to shed the belt.

I look out the window. The boy is on the steps. He smokes and looks up and down the street.

I send him a message. ‘I’m up here. Naked. You want a quick escape from this family? Look up. Look up.’

He doesn’t.

Just as well. I have my own household to look after, to satisfy, to clean up after.

I sit on the bed for a moment to peel off the damp socks. Through the open window I hear phones, another rush of children scampers past, laughing, screaming, happy and free.

Thank God I don’t have that fierce worry. That reality.