Crystal Evans talks about Life and Death in her book

Crystal Evans a quote from the Book, ©™®The philosophy of the Crystal Evans 

©®™ copyright by Crystal Evans Jamaica

Ever stared at a starry night, wondered if life was beyond this realm that we know and understand. Have you ever stared into the face of another human being and marvel upon the genius behind our creation particularly our perception of the world and state of consciousness? Have you ever wondered while at a funeral, ponder upon your own death  and become anxious for the afterlife? Have it ever occurred to you that a time will come wherein everything that you know now will pass away and a new generation of people will inhabit this same space who have no knowledge or recollection of whom you are. You are alive only for a flicker of a moment and then you vaporize. You can from nothing and you will become nothing again. 

Life even at its tiniest molecule is impermanent, transient, unsure and fickle. We try to make it worthwhile not by adding value to it but by improving our social perception, seeking validation in our interactional circles. Life cannot be valued for in the end, rich or poor, smart or dumb, popular or hermit, we are nothing but dust, vapor, blurry memories that eventually are soon forgotten. 

There is must be a purpose for our existence or do we just float through life aimlessly. It wouldn't seem fair when fiends live longer than those who contribute to the advancement of human race. Most if not all the founding fathers of our civilization are recognized posthumously and died paupers. 

 I imagined death to mean nothing but a mere transition. There are many things I know nothing of before my birth and so shall there be things I know nothing of after I am gone. In truth I have been dead years before I was born and was never inconvenienced by it. Why should I be afraid of what was on the beginning and will be in the end? 

I don't fear death. I fear leaving my people behind, my friends, my family and my children, I am afraid of losing the life I have invested heavily in, in the same breath we are mourn over the future, relationships and experiences death denies is when our love ones are taken from us. Death it may seem inconveniences  our dreams, it's sting wakes us up to the fragility of our existence, we are forced to stop in our tracks and face our inevitable future. 

We walk on the ground and give sparse recognition to the mud that will be the eternal homes for the bodies that we praise so much. Ground might not worth much but it holds billions of history and some of humanity's greatest treasures, One day it will become our permanent home. Maybe we should begin a mud religion and give reverence to the dirt, in the end, it is the dirt, ground and Mother Earth that wins and feigns supreme throughout the centuries. 

How Jamaican Men Date Nowadays?

#Excerpt from Crystal Evans New Novel 

# Night Nurse 

©™® Crystal Evans Book Club 

" Really so that is how people date nowadays ?" Rosie asked, fuming. 

Rosie shook her head. She dressed up, did her hair and nails expecting to at least parade her expensive outfit that she bought albeit she could not really afford it but is now being told that her investment was only good enough for a fuck. 

"Men in Jamaica don't take women out anymore.,. Everybody

Just up

And fuck?" Rosie asked again. 

Akiem shrugged " you not giving me any pussy?" 

Rosie asked innocently, " why should I give you my pussy? What have you done to earn the right to fuck me?" 

Akeim replied, a tone of levity to his voice "cause amma respect it and be responsible with it as I am with you" 

He cocked a brow and flashed Rosie a charming grin. 

" swear such a smooth talker" 

" no am honest and for real. Tonight I intend on knowing you in every way imaginable" 

Rosie coughed "wow and him witty too?"

He smiled " tell me something sexy and private" 

Rosie looked him up and down like a slimy rag on an outside bathroom zinc "I don't share private things with strangers"

He laughed and it sounded like a rumble coming up from his stomach "I'll soon be laying in yours arms,kissing you all over so I don't see how I'm a stranger"

Rosie quipped " you ambitious though?", her voice dripping with sarcasm. She didn't want to get feisty with him but right now, she was too peeved to care. 

" is that such a bad thing?" He asked. He shot her a serious look " who you say you live with again?" 

Rosie shifted in the passenger seat and fixed him an icy stare " the bunna man... How is that for starters?" 

Akiem laughed " No I'm not I can't really date a girl living with a man" 

Rosie clapped her hands and squealed " So I should make myself available for a man who is in a relationship or rather committed to a woman abroad. Okay then" 

Akeim flinched, muscled the staring wheel into a dark scheme. He relaxed and eased the vehicle in front of a gate, he retrieved a remote from his pocket and the gate glided open.  " I don't know you tell me?" 

Rosie sucked her teeth " sounds like pot cussing kettle to me" 

He fumbled with a bunch of keys " you ready for me to make you cum now?" 

He opened the door, Rosie waltz into the room and the lights came on. 

" Since we are on the subject of cum? What kind a tool you packaging?" 

Akiem snickered " you will soon find out. I want to put it in your mouth. It is big enough to fit anywhere and everywhere in you." He sat on the couch and motioned for Rosie to come sit beside him.

Rosie decided to play his game because this was becoming more and more of a sticky situation " yes I can fit all of it in my mouth including your legs too..." 

He chortled " wow, you a freaky girl and that make me love you even more" 

Rosie thought up something Apple would say " 

Awooohhhh... We will see about that... My ultimate fantasy is riding a dudes face on the beach" 

Akiem pulled Rosie into a sidelong embrace and offered her a glass of wine. " it will make you mello. What is the freakiest thing you ever do?" 

Rosie lied " stick my finger in a man's ass" 

Akiem queried, eyes darken with lust " what about your ass" 

Rosie recoiled " nooo... Mi batty have one route. Nothing no go in. Everything haffi come out" 

Akiem didn't like the path this conversation was taking and this girl kept sending him mixed messages " you ever fuck till you squirt?" 

Akiem continued "So u ready to suck one cocky and see where it goes ?"

Rosie scrunched her eyebrows " no" 

Akeim threw his head back " why you act like you still inna plastic young girl" 

Rosie shuddered in a pretense " when I find a man who is deserving of a head, then I will do it" 

Akiem grinned, the wine was getting to his head already " Well, you been here talking to him from evening so answer me" 

No legalisation of Abortion in Jamaica

This has always been my opinion on this issue and it is I fear that women will use a legal abortion status as a contraceptive. So people will just get pregnant and throw babies away at whim. I mean Jamaican clinics have a free contraceptive programme why can't our women use it? Then we have the plan Bs and postinors yet we are still having unwanted pregnancies. Abortion legalisation will only increase this lack of accountability and recklessness among our young people. Sex comes with consequences. I believe our current " unwanted children situation can only be remedied by education and reform thinking among our people and not by more contraceptives and counterceptives methods.

Imagine you have sex with somebody and it doesn't work out but you get pregnant and you decide to have an abortion. Sex comes with responsibility like any other behavior in life, we should strive to make good choices and wise decisions. 

I can't understand some women because I would never have sex with somebody I don't know that well or have an assurance of a permanent relationship with, without a condom. But life is not perfect and we make mistakes so take the morning after pill. Live your life with accountability. 

What if our parents chose to get an abortion, then where would we have been, you are not ready to bring a child into this world then have protected sex or take a contraceptive, it is that easy. There is no bandaid method to put over our recklessness. 

Women are having abortions albeit it is illegal, and we have heard the term " dash way too much belly"  many a times to know that abortion won't prevent a woman from making the same mistakes over and over again. 

A lot of our men use abortion like a fail safe method, so the girl claims she is pregnant and he offers her money for an abortion because he is not ready for a child, has too many already or sincerely does not want a permanent relationship with her. He can always abort pregnancies therefore he sleeps with as many women as he feels entitled to and then they abort pregnancies. How msny young men I hear saying " a nuff belly gyal dash weh fe me eenuh". Imagine what would happen if abortion was legalized... 

 

You should not be having sex with anyone you wouldn't want to have a child with period... 

Rainy Mornings in Jamaica, Excerpt Tim Book

Another excerpt from the Book, Night Nurse... ©®™ Crystal Evans 

The overcast morning cast a silence on the rural community, birds chirped and dogs bark and you could hear the night insects humming in the background. You could heard droplets of Dew accumulated on the zinc top making its way to the ground in a solid thub. Overnight Dew glistened like sprinkling of diamonds on the leaves of the trees, tipping their ends like fake fingernails on a woman's hands. 

The plants looked lazy, almost content as they had received more than a Bellyful of water during the last week's continuous rainfall. The tea bush paraded a deep green alongside lime green coloured leaves. The mango tree dazzled with deep green leaves, light green, golden, brown and orange leaves.  The mountains stood gallantly in a dark green dominance tracing the horizon into infinity, and the grey sky with cuts of silvery clouds masked a sunrise hidden in its silver lining. Coconut tree leaves did a slow dance like fingers on a piano and the breeze was cool, calming almost as if everything in the world at that moment was incredible perfect. 

Water sat in silent puddles in the yard and the pot holes on the road were like muddy swimming pools. The grass flushed standing tall and strong due to the cessation of trampling from feet that were force to remain inside. The ground begged for sunshine since the rains beat its surface to a brownish pulp, the dirt couldn't resist and folded inwards with even a slight press of child's finger. The hard "dutty" was pummeled to a soft giant. The ground was very powerful because in the end it will stand supreme since in time it swallows up all those who live on or trample it beneath their feet and roots. 

Nature stood in his regality as the humans sleep, their virve reduced by the frequent rains that put their daily schedule on a halt. A man passed the road way on his way to work and the gentle breeze assuage Apple's nostrils with the nauseating scent of his cologne. His body odor will turn musky by midday when it is mixed with perspiration. 

Break up 101 with your Jamaican Man

Always live your life to shame those who hurt you and rejected you, they should be so glad that in the future that they had a been with you in their past so they now have a nice story to tell. They should hung their head in shame when you past them. 

Your happiness is your personal responsibility. You have no control over the actions of others but you can influence how you feel. If a man is showing you that he does not value your affection then you need to become disconnected from him. Don't ever put yourself in a situation where a man has to diss you so you can get the point when it is clear to everyone except you that he is not interested anymore.

You might say he still loves you but you can't assume what he is feeling you have to judge him by the way he is treating you. Actions speak louder than words. He might still love you but it is clear that he does not want to be with you. 

Don't be impulsive, don't text his new girlfriend, you will come out looking like the trouble maker and he will have grounds to legitimize his leaving you. Don't let the new women in his life play games with you and play into your emotions. They don't have anything to lose but you do and if you want your man back then drama and nagging won't help. 

Don't call his phone and nag him to take you back, you will only push him away further and he will justify leaving you to John public by painting you as a crazy woman. People will judge you by your actions and not your intentions, you won't be able to explain your feelings and those on the outside will be very unkind and call it as they see it. 

I will tell you what I know is right. It's not like am running you away or I am trying to force anything on you. I am tling you what I would have told my daughter or my sisters.

I don't want you to destroy yourself over chasing a man who is running away from you...

If you didn't love him then you wouldn't miss him

How you are feeling is natural nothing to be ashamed of. So it is okay to cry. Don't Bottle up the hurt inside, you can grieve over the death of your relationship. Don't let sadness consume you so that it interferes with your ability to function as a person. If it is going that far, if you think you are going over the edge then you might need professional help. 

You are not the first female to get hurt and other women have been down this road before. They will you to get over it because the first time is always the hardest for some of us it's the first couple of times before we can effectively deal with a break up. 

You can choose to let this be an experience,You laugh at years to

Come or an experience that you are ashamed

Of... The choice is yours...joke or embarrassment...how will you look back at this moment in the future. 

Excerpt from New Novel Night Nurse

Excerpt from book Night Nurse 

Copyright © Crystal Evans 

Excerpt 

Apple had a wheatish complexion with her face being somewhat pallor. Her soft brown breasts spilled over her bra cups taunting men like two melons beckoning a vegan. Her vagina peeped from behind the V shaped laced front thong and her two batty pegs did a wobbly dance against each other as she paced back and forth in the seedy nightclub in a skin tight girdle ensemble. She had the prettiest pussy in the club, it hoisted above the margin of her legs like two hog seed from a back shot position and was clean shave, same colour as her legs with a silver vagina ring running through her clitoris that drew attention like a billboard on a light post. 

The club reeked of incense that killed the smell of weed, fuck and liquor. It was a run down building in the midst of Kingston, on the back road where respectable men took their Downtown Girlfriends and came for the occasional ghetto slam.  Men would be seen filing in and out of the club twenty four hours like an ATM and the Go-Gos came out in full swing to get some air in the daylight. 

It was a sight to behold, variety on top of variety of bodies from scrawny to mampy, every flavor of the week, different sizes and shapes for every male folk. In the daylight the bleacher's skin was not as pretty as it appeared last night under the disco lights nor is her face appealing without the lace wig. Wigs were available in every colour imaginable, for some women GoGo dancing was family career since mothers and daughters can often be found dancing at the same club.

It was not Fiction or Usain Bolts Tracks and Records, you did not need any status to be admitted to this makeshift sex shop. The cheap carpet had more holes in it than a test picture at a gun range, the sofas were scuffed with weed and cigarette burnt and the stools had seen more sexcapades than a porn director. The air was underneath the musky scent of smoke, a suffocating blanket of cheap colognes and condoms strew the outer back of the club like elongated balloons on display, some stuck to a piece of wood, others folded and with liquid still running from its circular entrance, paraded the sins of the night world for all to see

Chapter excerpt: the country gyal journal

Copyright ©®™ Crystal Evans

I knew what I wanted for myself even before listening to the Kelly Clarkson's song that mirrored the poignance I often felt staring out the window of my grandmothers house during a late afternoon shower that left the air with an earthy perfume. 

I wanted to break away but before that I was happily content with my life. Mama would bring back patty from the factory and we would fry them over in the frying pan and eat it with Gratto Bread. I remembered my sisters and I eating out the peanut butter in the fridge or licking out the milo tin that mama hid in the cupboard. We would pull the chairs and take down Horlicks from off the fridge top and eat it like there was no tommorrow. Our favorite delicacy for lunch was bread and sugar or condensed milk washed down with water. 

When Christmas time came we had roast breadfruit and fried saltfish, I particularly enjoyed using my finger to lick the grease from my plate and if my granny was absent, I would readily obliged the usage of my tongue in the same manner. 

We had jokes and Dolly house was nice. We married each other with Bulla Cake and Water, sometimes we had money to buy dollar cooler and suck suck to quench our thirst as we played in the sweltering son. 

Sometimes when the rain came down like a torrential downpour we remained inside and played jacks and ball or watch Tv. We didn't have Dolls but managed to find some old weaves and plastic bottles to improvised. We had plastic Dolls and our nieghbour Kiesha mother sent down Dolly with clothes set from foriegn come give her. We were not jealous but vaguely aware for the first time that albeit we were never hungry, we still lacked and want. 

Our favorite past time would be carrying water from the standpipe across the cow pasture, early in the morning when the only sign of the sun was a chalky, powdery pinkish haze on the skirt tail of the horizons, when dew water wash your foot like rain and the mist of the morning smelled by leaves. When you use dew water to drop inna your yeye from it's dollop accumulation on the dasheen leaves because your granny  said it would get the gunk out of your eye after waking two mornings with it glued shut with matta.

  We would race across the grassy surface at the same time the common fowls marched across the cow pasture in lines like a soldier and we avoided sliding, falling face down in a pile a cow shit. In the days when we were not staring in awe at the length of Brother Roach Donkey penis, we would be hunting bees, using paper and bottle to trap them, then setting them free. We were oftentimes stung but never deterred, because chasing bees and butterflies were the happiest moments of our lives. 

We had games like Chinese skip when my sisters, I, Doodo Pet, Quennae and Puuchie Loo would play chinese skip until the sun went down or our parents called us home for food. We enjoyed roast goat seed, hog seed and the only thing we hated about Pigs was cleaning out the Hog Crawl. 

Boys were rude but never as violent as they are today. Boys had work to do like tying out the animals in the mornings and my cousin once lost a herd of goats in the hills, he could not sleep in the house as my grand uncle ordered him to find the goats before daylight or don't come back there. He slept in the hills that night even when my Granny cried shame on Uncle Roy for being such a heartless brute. 

I hated playing with boys because they hurtle the ball with too much speed therefore the impact was often more excruitiating that when girls played alone. We got more jokes, winced and pleaded with the boys not to crack a bone when they caught the ball in our usual bat-and-run-a-bound- games. 

These boys were not interested in playing crickets and flying kites on the open field in the searing sun like boys did when I was a child. These boys wanted console games and smartphones like the American teenagers on cable tv. They wanted to drive chromes vans and date women with chrome skin. Everything they valued had to look like silver or gold, shiny and attention  pulling like the lifestyles of those in movies. 

I remembered how my first pickney boyfriend kicked a ball and pushed the bucket of water off my head. It was unponderable the intensity of the hatred he reserved for me up until adulthood. I think he is still reeling over the comment I left him with, one I overhead my grandmother telling a man one day. " even if you gave me you hood, I wouldn't know what to do with it". I didn't understand what my grandmother meant by that but between eating the Mangoes and Guinep he brought from bush for me in a crocus bad, I told my twelve year old admirer that I was not remotely interested in him and his Dolly House business. 

Now I leave this community, glancing up at the regal spread of the mountains posed above the trees, kissing the horizon against the serene blue sky, meditating over the very purpose of my existence. 

Being Ungrateful to those who paved the way for Us

They say that you must not be ungrateful but I don't believe you are expected to spend the rest of your life licking the shoes of those who helped you on your journey. I truly believe that nothing can preclude you on you from your destiny therefore if it was not them then it would have be someone else. A great talent, don't matter how long it takes will never be missed. 

So me don't understand why bounti Killa a gwaan like a some fool over Mavado'a success. To me it's just typical Jamaican badmind. In my opinion When you buss people, you must be always prepared that they might evolved and move on toe greater things, you will not continue the entire journey with them, there are places you cannot take them and therefore you must let them be so that they can find the heights of their own success. 

They might acknowledge what you did for ten inn the frontal stages of their successful journey, some might never publicly thank you but the still voice of their conscience will never let them forget that you saw something inside of them before anyone else did. 

It's not essentially a Jamaican thing to want people we knew from the floor down to recognize and pay respect to those who valued us when we were nobodies. Jamaican's take it way too seriously to the point where even people who didn't do anything for you but know you from way back when believe that they should accorded some kind of homage or special treatment. 

They are quick to tell the world about how them used to feed you when you couldn't feed yourself as if they expected you to be completely dependent on them your entire life. They get upset with you because you can now feed yourself, simply because they lost their bragging rights over you. They cannot control you using your lacks and deficiencies, your self sufficiency scares them and instead of congratulating you, they start a war with you so that you can look bad or feel bad about your success. 

Bring Back our Girls

There are people in this world whose central focus is to permeate cruelty with little regard for their own karmic penalties. Love is such a powerful emotion and overriding sentiment that it is unfathomable that life's most potent muse has escaped the psyche of so many of our men. 

I can't understand why somebody would think it is okay to rip two hundred and thirty girls from their families. I wonder who condones this type of behavior. I often look at children and wonder what they will become, I stare at school boys, babies and even the bareback boys on the street and wonder if in a few years one of these children might take my life. 

With that thought I am forced to wonder what might have gone wrong in their lives, what values did their parents impress upon them that made them morph into the brutish adults they have become. I wonder if their parents know about their atrocious acts and if they understand that they might be responsible for creating these monsters who in my opinion should have never seen the light of life. 

Bring Back our Girls... Stop this cruelty!!!!

The Country Gyal Journal

©copyright Crystal Evans 

Latest Novel 

Excerpt from The Country Gyal Journal! 

He slammed the door and I thought about all the people who slammed doors in my face ever since I was a baby. My mother who never gave me a dime in my life and had never been there for my sisters and I or my father who turned a blind eye while my stepmother verbally abuse us. 

I wanted to go back home but I could not face those bitches who would tell stories sprinkled with anything but the truth about how I left country thinking I was going to become somebody and ending up back there worst off than I was before. 

The men would have a field day and now that I was out of plastic I would not be expected to act like Ms Goody Two Shoes anymore. These bitches made me feel inferior my entire life while complaining that I acted superior to them. 

What a parody.  Me coming down Bucknor Lane with bags and belly big like a balloon, the women looking out at the spectacle, listening to the susso susso coming from the verandahs. I would be the brunt of female jokes for days and these women would relish in my failure as it would substantiate what they had suspected all along that I was never really better than them, just trying to be better like they did and failed miserably. 

I would join the ranks of the "has been", using my ass to wipe floor from sunrise until dusk, chewing on people's name like wintergreen, hoping that by bringing attention to the failure of others I would not feel as useless and inadequate as I really am. I would gain amusement from life's tragedy and spend my entire life as a gaping spectator.  I would prefer to lie beneath Andrew a million times and suffer his indignation than go back to those streets and join the ranks of the women there. 

I would prefer to fit in here than lower myself so that I can be one of them. I am never going back the way I came. I choose to be a maid and a concubines of my employer than to be another baby mother, lurking at the shop front trying to snare a man so that I can buy Lasco to feed my baby. 

Know your Jamaican Man Patterns

When it comes to dating a Jamaican man, he can say anything to you and you might believe, you are even entitled to believe his actions but you must never doubt a man with a glaring pattern. Am not saying that you should pull out your Nancy Drew glasses and start an investigation on your new beaus dating history. People do change but a man with twelve kids, seven baby mothers, a white wife in Pennsylvania and a side chick that owns the bar in the town is not a man you want to invest your time muchless vagina with. 

Another pattern you cannot turn your eyes away from is the man who is obviously in transition. The man who is separated from his wife, living with his baby mother and two year old son yet asking for your number is a guy who is a serial cheater and you are his next statistic. He is not over his wife since that baby is barely two and he lives with a chick that he will no doubt cheat on with you, he's basically feeding you the same bull crap he fed them. 

Patterns never lie. The guy who dates a slew of women who loom a certain way them suddenly decides he wants a change in his type of woman. He is either tired of the monotony of women he's been with or you have something he wants that none of his type can give him. A man with a track record of dating supermodel chicks don't just stir up an appetite for a plus size darling and her thirty inch waist. The plus size chica has something he wants wherein he is willing to overlook his tastes for, it might not be a bad thing but have to be alert. You cannot let your guard down. 

There's a trend among certain men especially those financially well off who dumped their thirty year old wife or baby mother that they have been with since she was eighteen for a college freshman with a round buttocks who is a schoolmate of his eldest son from his first relationship. This trend should tell a smart chick that this guy only dates young women and if you have no intentions of getting old then you can hop onto his lap. Whatsoever he did to them he will do it to you too even if it means he has one foot in his grave. 

Am not saying be specific about a dude because people do change along the way but at a certain age it takes a lot to break relational habits. Some of these behavioral traits are so entrenched that the chances of this man changing in this lifetime would be incredulous. Know your patterns, be an ace before you break a heart.