Late afternoon at the Africarib market,
  the brothers in the know were picking up some yam
(A fresh shipment of puna yam had just arrived from the motherland)
Man cannot live on bread alone

I was more interested in the kenkey
 that had also arrived that Wednesday,
Driven up from Houston by an ex-military man,
  his wife was the one who prepared the kenkey
Nigerians were out in force -
  yam for their swallow obviously, and much more:
Stockfish, herring and even snails.
  The shop was well stocked today

One of the elders recounted a long tale
 about how hard things were back home - believe him
We learned about the three year old child who was suffering,
  crying when he'd last called home
The story was that two ears of corn had been prepared in the morning -
 his share for the day
But that before it could be given out, a fowl -
  unclear whether it was a chicken or guinea fowl,
Had gone behind him, poor thing,
  and absconded with the corn

And the child had set about on the chase,
  and duly tripped and fell,
And was now disconsolate,
  bleeding, and still crying hours after the deed
And hungry too, for the corn was long gone
There was an object lesson in the tale
 about the hardship that our people were facing,
Inflation, poverty and worse - how for do? Na wow
Now even little ones have to compete with fowls for their daily corn

Just then we saw the headlines
On the screen above the check out counter
Breaking news, school shooting... CNN...
Two children killed... many injured... More to follow
"So these people...
School don open just this week and they go shoot am...
America..."
Shaking heads all around.

Our laments about the continent were cut short - these people
I quickly settled with Walter. And made my excuses to the circle:
"I need to pick up the kids from school"
Head nods. We all sobered up promptly,
The expected banter postponed for another time
I'll admit, I drove rather fast to the school

Defensive Posture, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. Musical protection. (spotify version)

Bonus beats: Immigrant by Sade

See previously Silt and Sediment, Action Items, Prone and Defensive Accounting

File under: immigration, culture, observation, perception, social, Africa, USA, blood, violence, modernity, guns, outrage, The Rough Beast, Observers are worried, poetry, toli

Writing log: August 28, 2025

Pink lines are the new shape of dread
The weary anticipation of the so-called rapid test
Faint traces of the untimely failures of our defenses
Or an unwelcome rejoinder to our wilful recklessness

Red lines that bellicose nations brandish
Their diplomats echoing aggressive rhetoric
Not to be crossed or we'll give you the "or else" treatment
The new warfare, like the old, is said to be indecent
By design, it's hard to trace the contours of these boundaries
Seeing as they are drawn up essentially to support a casus belli

White lines that crackle with the powder of addiction
Just say no, resist the temptation, said the erstwhile First Lady
"No Dope, No Drugs", for good measure, chimed in Mr T
For white lines mark the streets with broken dreams

Yellow lines outline a zone, never cross the double ones
Symbolic, indicating waiting or parking restrictions
The DC Metro one tends to shut down for up to eight months
The price of deferred maintenance, repairs and rehabilitation
Safety first, passing is forbidden in both directions
Prohibition, as inconveniences grow, try to avoid obstructions

Power lines, careful around them, electricity
The skeletal frame of our modernity
Infrastructure, what you realize in its absence that you miss
Prime candidate for what went wrong in the root cause analysis

Don't leave anything behind, always put it all on the line
Read the room, be forever mindful of the party line
Embrace euphemism, ambiguity and blurred lines
Careful as you go, tread warily, walk a thin line
Lines in the sand, drawing up lessons learned
Histories remade by the storyteller and promptly unlearned
Comfort suites of ephemera, until such time
Caution, take heed, where you end up down the line
For if the front line is where names are made
It is also where most of the bodies are laid

Lines, a playlist

A funky soundtrack for this note (spotify version)

• The Line by D'Angelo
• Blue Lines by Massive Attack
• Down the Line by Gregory Isaacs
• White Lines by Grandmaster Melle Melle
• The Groove Line by Heatwave
• Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke
• Lines by Eric Leeds
• Put it on the line by Lyn Collins
• Dub on the Front Line by King Jammy
• Front Line by Chuckii Booker
• The Line by Prince

File under: humour, whimsy, culture, observation, life, language, perception, poetry, toli

Writing log: September 14, 2022

Ground zero
The moon tower marks the spot
Not too far from the state cemetery
At the intersection where cable cars used to stop
A block away from the offices of the N.A.A.C.P
The mural is being restored as a kind of testimony

The blast radius
Gentrification spreads outwards
Progress, as viewed from one perspective
For many parts indeed had fallen into disrepair
But what is the fabric of communities?
And how much hollowing can a place bear
Before it loses its identity?

Change is turbulence
For the reverse is also true
Things - and places, are to be used
The inexorable logic of our economy
The foundation of land use theories
Displacement, a shedding of skin
The debates are about the nature of this new molting
Prosperity's impact on demography

Soundtrack for this note

• What Happened to Austin? by Lench
  A little heavy handed but quite accurate.

File under: gentrification, Austin, change, urban, city, displacement, development, culture, observation, perception, economics, USA, poetry, toli

Writing log: September 22, 2022

In June 1980 Amina Claudine Myers was in a New York City studio, recording a tribute to the great blues singer Bessie Smith, when she began to improvise a theme on the piano: slow, stately, swelling with emotion. Myers is a deeply religious woman, and as she played she felt as if a spirit had […]

Soul man, Paul Laurence, is more known as a producer and keyboardist than for his solo efforts. I always found it surprising that he didn't break out given his impeccable bonafides. The keyboard and bass-driven funk. Propulsive boogie dance music even when mellow. Even the ballads groove.

An interesting Rhythm & Blues column by Nelson George in Billboard 1985 discusses the roots of Paul Laurence's dilemma. Long story short: timing is everything.

1985 was Paul Laurence's triumphant year. Having written Rock Me Tonight For Old Times Sake for Freddie Jackson, he'd essentially assured himself a Grammy and a firm place in the black music pantheon. Entire careers never reach such heights.

By then, he'd paid his dues writing for the likes of Melba Moore and Evelyn Champagne King. The success of Rock me Tonight meant he'd finally get his shot at his solo debut album, Haven't You Heard. Only, then, for the first single, She's Not A Sleaze to stall on radio play.

Why, then, was She's Not a Sleaze not a greater hit?

It features both Freddie Jackson and Lilo Thomas on vocals having fun over an infectious beat. Sonically, it sounds like an SOS Band joint guaranteeed to fill dancefloors. What happened here? Why would Nelson George call Paul Laurence a 'victim of circumstance'?

The pull quote: "'Sleaze'-y lyrics create a problem for Paul Laurence". In a sign of the times, a few musical directors - browbeaten by the scrutiny of the Parents Music Resource Center, misintepreted an innocuous lyric, "They called her Loose Lucy", and pulled the track from airplay.

As Paul Laurence rightly noted at the time:

"Guys like Prince have made a fortune out of suggestiveness, saying things on record I would never say. Yet because of the fallout, I and other artists, are going to take the weight".

And yes, even as The Purple One smiled his way through those years and never looked back, Paul Laurence was, indeed, collateral damage.

He was not wrong. Darling Nikki, and perhaps Erotic City, the previous year, famously aroused Tipper Gore causing the furore that lead to those explicit content stickers you still see on cd covers or the Scarlett E letter on your streaming services. Moral panics and such prompted by Prince.

But perhaps the damage wasn't so bad. The royalty checks he started cashing from Rock me Tonight were very real. The For Old Times Sake guaranteeed nostalgia. You don't always win everything in the creative arts. And as a palate cleanser, he then produced Putting A Rush On Me for Stephanie Mills.

Furthermore, he also topped that by taking Prince's Do me Baby and produced Meli'sa Morgan's cover version and album of the same. He wasn't resting on his laurels and, in tipping his hat to Prince, proved that game recognizes game.

1985 was before Nelson George would turn to calling the music that made his fame Rhythm and Bull. It was a time when he actually paid close attention to that strand of musicianship. Perhaps it was the shenanigans of the record companies that irked him rather than the music...

Also note Nelson George's scoop in his column: "Janet Jackson is recording part of her next album in Minneapolis with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis"

Paul Laurence's craft is immense; his is a solid body of work. Evelyn Champagne King, Melba Moore, Freddie Jackson, Meli'sa Morgan, Kashif, Howard Johnson, Keith Washington... Legends like George Benson, Smokey Robinson, Stephanie Mills.

And when it was the dawn of the New Jack Swing era, he came hard, I Ain't Wit It remains one of my favorite swingbeat joints. The album title, however, does say it all however; it would be his second, and last, solo album: Underexposed.

In later years, he would continue writing for Freddie Jackson and others, producing much of the same quality. So Fine by Howard Johnson would be an exemplar. Along with Kashif he would blaze a trail in the vein of soul music with the songcraft, always tailoring things for the artists he produced.

And he's still bringing heat these days (see No Matter How You Rock It featuring Vincent Matthew). Again, however, that track was lost in our covidious lockdown. Foiled by the pandemic, a victim of circumstance once again.

In a sense, Paul Laurence could be considered in the same mold as Leon Ware, a legend more renowned for his production (and gifts to the like of Marvin Gaye) than for his solo releases even though those are no less excellent.

{And perhaps like Leon Ware, the singers he produced were better vocalists than him. Although I'd counter that I quite like when he deploys his falsetto - and I'm an aficionado of falsettos)

To conclude, Paul Laurence is not exactly unsung, but he was certainly underexposed. As a soul man who lives and breathes music, he deserves all the plaudits. He's also a minor victim of circumstance, perhaps, in terms of fame, but then timing is everything.

Paul Laurence, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note, a poor man's discography. Sadly I can't see any music videos so you'll just have to soak in the sounds of Paul Laurence. (a less comprehensive spotify version)


This note is part of a series, One Track Mind. See previously: Baby Me by Chaka Khan

File under: music, soul, appreciation, review, culture, observation, perception, adoption, One Track Mind, toli

Writing log: June 4, 2025

The problem is often couched as one of recognition
The difficulty, as it were, of sensor calibration
For if you can't measure a signal as a matter of first principle
If you can't detect accurately, you might as well be invisible

The auto-focus systems in cameras that can't detect those darker than blue
The pulse oximeters giving false hope - the all clear, to those with a darker hue
Training data, darker skin tones - unusual, light exposure
Biometrics, facial recognition, fingerprint sensors

Architectures of participation and control
Resigned to playing the tenuous outsider role
In this rigged game of life (and death) with ever changing rules
Arbitrary boundaries, when lines are drawn, borders can be cruel

For those excluded from the system, then, a matter of quiet advocacy
A liberation struggle of sorts, forever teaching others how to see
File under the banner of cultural sensitivity in technology
Sensor calibration and relief from the burden of invisibility

Sensor Calibration, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note, fodder for sensitive souls (spotify version)

• Sensitivity by Ralph Tresvant
• You Can't Miss What You Can't Measure by Clarence Carter
• My Sensitivity (Gets in the Way) by Luther Vandross
• You Can't Miss What You Can't Measure by Funkadelic
• We People Who are Darker than Blue by Curtis Mayfield
• Skin I'm In by Cameo
• Choice of Colors by The Impressions

See previously Cultural Sensitivity in Technology and Empire State of Mind

File under: technology, culture, observation, perception, history, race, localization, photography, health, design, software, hardware, sensors, best practices, exclusion, participation, poetry, Observers are worried, toli

Writing log: September 21, 2022