I was tagged into this by Aparna. Thanks, it was great fun!
Would like to tag "anyone who would like to give it a shot". I'd love to see where Sriramana, Parna, Hyde, Stark, Belzeebub, Maddie, Austere, Peg, English August, Jaded, Teleute, GreatBong, JAP take it. I'm a bit scared of tagging these days as some people get quite violently offended. Please dont get mad if I have tagged you and you dont want to do it ... just ignore me :)
Here's my attempt at the Dream Tree
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Burnt Offerings
i stand in a corner
cradled between to walls
and contemplate
on the floor,
strewn around
all my muklti coloured masks
which one will i wear today
which games will we play
i turn my head and look in the glass
acid burnt and ugly burnt
black, and drak putrid
ugly, vain, selfobsessed
attention grabbing seeking whining
week, social, playing games
ugly, unloving, selfish
trembling, fearful, shivering knees, quivering flesh
salt, mingles with blood, mingles with acid
weak, clashes with suffering clashes with bitter
tired
worn
undone
lost
past hope
past dreams
past lies
past touch
past tears
dry
empty
black
tasteless, but bitter
and looking for feet
to fall asleep at
looking for feet
to cry again at
looking for hnads
to hold again
looking for eyes
to see forgiveness in
looking for life
to live again
looking for heart
to feel again
cradled between to walls
and contemplate
on the floor,
strewn around
all my muklti coloured masks
which one will i wear today
which games will we play
i turn my head and look in the glass
acid burnt and ugly burnt
black, and drak putrid
ugly, vain, selfobsessed
attention grabbing seeking whining
week, social, playing games
ugly, unloving, selfish
trembling, fearful, shivering knees, quivering flesh
salt, mingles with blood, mingles with acid
weak, clashes with suffering clashes with bitter
tired
worn
undone
lost
past hope
past dreams
past lies
past touch
past tears
dry
empty
black
tasteless, but bitter
and looking for feet
to fall asleep at
looking for feet
to cry again at
looking for hnads
to hold again
looking for eyes
to see forgiveness in
looking for life
to live again
looking for heart
to feel again
Black
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
Mesmerised: Dazed and Confused
He had a way of talking, that made you think of the words stuck-up or fearsome or empyreal. the picture you draw depends as much on where you are looking from as well as, where you are looking towards.
He sat at a corner table and looked at his shoes, frowing, drowned in thought. flooded in thought.
I had spoken to him. His words, on paper, sounded smooth and glossy, with a patina of many centuries. Dark, like wood stained by years of having lived there, years after being felled and cut into shape.
[To be completed]
He sat at a corner table and looked at his shoes, frowing, drowned in thought. flooded in thought.
I had spoken to him. His words, on paper, sounded smooth and glossy, with a patina of many centuries. Dark, like wood stained by years of having lived there, years after being felled and cut into shape.
[To be completed]
Questions and Answers, on the beach
Found this online: what is rowing. I'm working on something, its a story about a boy but as usual I dont have the energy to go beyond the rough idea.
Its raining incessantly here - like the rest of the world. There's a bit of water logging at the edges of the street. They are planning to renovate Princes St. Huh?
I'm still out of anything meaningful to write about and I have enough spinayarnwithbitsandpeicesofurdaytomakepoliteconversation to do in real life, to keep on posting about it as well.
What's the point? I have no answers, just questions. The answers I am still looking for and working out. They come from everyone and everything you meet or find. Theres a path from Plath to Woolf to Frieda to Aviator to Herr Harry Haller to a Beautiful Mind. Moral of the story is, there is another way. There is a way. You can deal with them. You can even come back to them. maybe oneday, You can even make a tentative bridge of friendship, just dont test it too much.
I'm curious about why there was a traffic jam on Ferry Road at 5 in the morning. If I keep running down Ferry Road, will I eventually fall into the ocean? Today, I wish I could go to the beach and just sit there all day. I cant remember how it sounds: raindrops hitting the sea-skin. I remember the crunchy feeling of sand under lazy feet. I remember feeling drenched by the wet flying away on a wind. I remember the feeling of watching grey-white carbuncles growing on the rocks at the waters edge. Grossed out, but mesmerised. Theres a ringing silence, underlined by the whisper of the waves. You can hear your thoughts. If you listen carefully.
Another memory, hazy and fading at the edges: sitting out on the beach all night. A lighthouse. Some rocks. Talking about everything under moon. Amber lights, through rough green glasses, falling to the ground. Little red fires like fairy lights, glowing in the dark. Holidays at the seaside. Happy Families. Sun, Sand and Games.
I want to go someplaces. I want to see those strange birds they show on the telly, i want to visit the Berwick Islands, see if the waters is really that dark a blue. Like the night sky in day time. I want to go to the Highlands. I want to go to the Isle of Skye. I want to do that thing I have heard about where you go and watch whales migrating (I remember Joy talking about it). I want to see the Lake District. I want to go to Antarctica. Maybe someday. I've eaten out alone. I've watched a movie alone. Yet, actually going on a holiday alone sounds daunting. As does finding someone I could go with.
Also, found this about writing in scotland. There's a BBC website thing called 'where i live'. It gives you all kinds of local information. Its quite interesting.
Post Script:I've had the most magical morning. Is this runners euphoria? Or have I frozen into dementia? Woke up to BangBang and the KillBill OST and after that have been listening to one of my favourite songs almost at a stretch since 0500. That and running in the rain.
Its freezing cold, raining, the skies are silver grey, the trees shoot up in stark, clean, black lines, from the russet and yellow lined ground.
Why does liking someone make you feel so silly, or juvenile, or vulnerable? Depends on who you like and if they like you too, perhaps.
Finished Steppenwolf atlast. Feel a little sad everytime a book I like is over. Maybe this high is more from the ending of Steppenwolf. It is indeed like about a cure, rather than a disease. I'm back in Tender is the Night.
The point of this postscript was that I just wanted to add that I loved this post by WendyKat.
And some new snaps on Flickr!
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Its raining incessantly here - like the rest of the world. There's a bit of water logging at the edges of the street. They are planning to renovate Princes St. Huh?
I'm still out of anything meaningful to write about and I have enough spinayarnwithbitsandpeicesofurdaytomakepoliteconversation to do in real life, to keep on posting about it as well.
What's the point? I have no answers, just questions. The answers I am still looking for and working out. They come from everyone and everything you meet or find. Theres a path from Plath to Woolf to Frieda to Aviator to Herr Harry Haller to a Beautiful Mind. Moral of the story is, there is another way. There is a way. You can deal with them. You can even come back to them. maybe oneday, You can even make a tentative bridge of friendship, just dont test it too much.
I'm curious about why there was a traffic jam on Ferry Road at 5 in the morning. If I keep running down Ferry Road, will I eventually fall into the ocean? Today, I wish I could go to the beach and just sit there all day. I cant remember how it sounds: raindrops hitting the sea-skin. I remember the crunchy feeling of sand under lazy feet. I remember feeling drenched by the wet flying away on a wind. I remember the feeling of watching grey-white carbuncles growing on the rocks at the waters edge. Grossed out, but mesmerised. Theres a ringing silence, underlined by the whisper of the waves. You can hear your thoughts. If you listen carefully.
Another memory, hazy and fading at the edges: sitting out on the beach all night. A lighthouse. Some rocks. Talking about everything under moon. Amber lights, through rough green glasses, falling to the ground. Little red fires like fairy lights, glowing in the dark. Holidays at the seaside. Happy Families. Sun, Sand and Games.
I want to go someplaces. I want to see those strange birds they show on the telly, i want to visit the Berwick Islands, see if the waters is really that dark a blue. Like the night sky in day time. I want to go to the Highlands. I want to go to the Isle of Skye. I want to do that thing I have heard about where you go and watch whales migrating (I remember Joy talking about it). I want to see the Lake District. I want to go to Antarctica. Maybe someday. I've eaten out alone. I've watched a movie alone. Yet, actually going on a holiday alone sounds daunting. As does finding someone I could go with.
Also, found this about writing in scotland. There's a BBC website thing called 'where i live'. It gives you all kinds of local information. Its quite interesting.
Post Script:I've had the most magical morning. Is this runners euphoria? Or have I frozen into dementia? Woke up to BangBang and the KillBill OST and after that have been listening to one of my favourite songs almost at a stretch since 0500. That and running in the rain.
Its freezing cold, raining, the skies are silver grey, the trees shoot up in stark, clean, black lines, from the russet and yellow lined ground.
Why does liking someone make you feel so silly, or juvenile, or vulnerable? Depends on who you like and if they like you too, perhaps.
Finished Steppenwolf atlast. Feel a little sad everytime a book I like is over. Maybe this high is more from the ending of Steppenwolf. It is indeed like about a cure, rather than a disease. I'm back in Tender is the Night.
The point of this postscript was that I just wanted to add that I loved this post by WendyKat.
And some new snaps on Flickr!
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Explain it to a two year old
I'm working on something, but as usual, I dont have the energy to finish it. One day. In the meanwhile if u like it u can have it. Its a story about a little boy who dies and goes to heaven, in the earthquake, but once there, they discover it was a mistake. they have to send him back, but there's a technical problem. i'm not sure what that is, as yet, but basically the need to explain to the kid that there was a mistake, apologise and get a ok from the kid. kind of like a customer-complaint-fixed-sign-off. in the meanwhile ths mistake is causing (i know the details as to why - but no energy to explain) random natural disaster on below on earth. u see, they arent allowed to make mistakes. there's no handler for that exception. so, its all scrwsville and the whole sw-hw-mw unit has just short ckt'd and is blowing up. They are working on a fix urgently and this (the apology stuff) is what production support came up with. They are not sure it will work but its all they have to try. Major ego hassles. Big man doesnt wanna apologise, but finally he see's theres no other way. So he comes to talk to the boy. He is in the meantime waiting in their equivalent of the maharaja lounge, being entertained and distracted by everyone available (read hr). This is all background. The main stuff starts when the boy asks for an explanation, for the earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, wars, the world and they cant give him any and its abt the argument between them. Rational explanations, Blame share, Cause and Effect all against a small boy saying, why?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Explain it to a two year old
I'm working on something, but as usual, I dont have the energy to finish it. One day. In the meanwhile if u like it u can have it. Its a story about a little boy who dies and goes to heaven, in the earthquake, but once there, they discover it was a mistake. they have to send him back, but there's a technical problem. i'm not sure what that is, as yet, but basically the need to explain to the kid that there was a mistake, apologise and get a ok from the kid. kind of like a customer-complaint-fixed-sign-off. in the meanwhile ths mistake is causing (i know the details as to why - but no energy to explain) random natural disaster on below on earth. u see, they arent allowed to make mistakes. there's no handler for that exception. so, its all scrwsville and the whole sw-hw-mw unit has just short ckt'd and is blowing up. They are working on a fix urgently and this (the apology stuff) is what production support came up with. They are not sure it will work but its all they have to try. Major ego hassles. Big man doesnt wanna apologise, but finally he see's theres no other way. So he comes to talk to the boy. He is in the meantime waiting in their equivalent of the maharaja lounge, being entertained and distracted by everyone available (read hr). This is all background. The main stuff starts when the boy asks for an explanation, for the earthquakes, floods, tsunamis, wars, the world and they cant give him any and its abt the argument between them. Rational explanations, Blame share, Cause and Effect all against a small boy saying, why?
Two Types of People and Shades Inbetween
I'm sure no one wants to know abt my weekend, but I'm seriously out of inspiration. She's missing. Eloped. Resigned. Given notice. Run away. I'm out of words. i'm out of ideas. i'm out of things to say. So I'm posting this silly post, which I might change my mind and delete sometime soon.
Was moaning to the guru abt the fact that i have nothing to write. for a moment i thought we started a story abt a girl that goes missing, but then he went missing. So that was that.
Its been raining all weekend. friday, after work, rushed down to the gym for circuit. trg. it was a killer. i had expected more weight training but it was more killer jumpupon10feettallreeboksteppers kind of stuff. left you feeling good though. with the tiredness comes a slippery, effervascent, kind of selfestee, with a fleeting life span.
They went on to the pub, and dancing. Obviously not one for such merry pursuits, I came up with some interesting and colourful things I had to do at home, infact, was even latefor (reminding myself of thomas from book against god) or of course of harry from steppenwolf.
Somehow dragged my aching limbs home, and plonked on the floor with my orange security blanket. Nothing to watch on the telly. Nothing to eat in the house. There was some beef I'd planned for this weekend but too tired to cook. Weekly quota of movies has not arrived. Dmn lovefilm.com. So I watched 'Naach' instead. Is she awesome, or is she awesome. (note: no question mark)
Saturday, went to the library, got late for rowing, ran to the bus-stop and then to the boathouse. Rowed for hour (ish) with new crew, and on stroke side (2). I hate rowing on stroke side.
By the time I got home I was really tired, but happy. Slept till 8 in the PM. Woke up to choco bikkis and the new coffee. Arabic. Strong. Fruity. Aromatic. Suitable for after dinner. Soon buying coffee will be as spooky as buying wine. Made some nice beef curry and pilau, proper stuff with saffron and rose water and ghee and almonds and all that ... interesting combination. By now the movies of the weekend were here: Hero (Quentin T), The man who would be King, Mothman Prophecies and Igby goes Down. They were all boring, though I goes the last was the least. Called Mom. Called Dad. Called Sister. Called A for a long chat. He's sick of life. He's bored. He doesnt know where the f life is going. S (with better half and baby) is back home again. He didnt get to see her. C is really disgusted with him cz he couldnt be bothered to come for founders day socials. for heavens sake man ... can u now be blase abt School. Schocking. Schacrilege. Schmuck. however, all's forgiven now as he is on parole and has spent long hours of quality time with her and her newly found dude. Oh Dmn! I'm too bored and listless even to make fun. I dreamt of everyone last night:
It was raining. It was late afternoon, after an interact meeting. Chatts, Sauce, Addy and myself were sitting on that little red concrete thing (just outside the rawdon st. gate, on the left and brgging johnny the ice cream man to give us one free ice cream. Major mix up - we used to only do this really shameful begging act much before 'interact-and-all-that' (read boys) happened to us. Anyway, we were just sitting there and moaning about how we and our lives are competing for worthlessness.
Then we are in San Antonio and my patio, its dark. really late. no human sounds. theres the green wire garden chair. The rain falls in a glittering curtain from the parapet of the floor above. the air smells of loads of IK. the black, slick, wet road in front sends off a load swish of car wheels every some time. cz the road never sleeps. if u close ur eyes and throw ur head back, u can make blv its the sea.
Then I woke up. Does it mean anything? Does anything mean anything. Life? Dreams? Selves? When I was young I thought of people as one of 2 types. Those who realise its a game and refuse to play it, and those who think its real and get all into it. As I grow old, and older still, I see so many shades inbetween. My favourite is the ones who see through it, still play it, as if mocking themselves, or life itself.
Maybe I wanna go back in time. Or do I? Sometimes I think the ecstacies of childhood are really overrated. U cant support urself, u cant defend urself, u cant even really think for urself. Worst of all, it never really goes away, does it?
An open query: how does this comments thing work? Are you supposed to reply to comments people have left on ur blog or do they not really want an answer? If yes, then do u reply on ur blog or theres. If on urs - how will they know u've replied. If on theirs, how will they get the thread? i know its a little late in the day, but I'm really confused.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Was moaning to the guru abt the fact that i have nothing to write. for a moment i thought we started a story abt a girl that goes missing, but then he went missing. So that was that.
Its been raining all weekend. friday, after work, rushed down to the gym for circuit. trg. it was a killer. i had expected more weight training but it was more killer jumpupon10feettallreeboksteppers kind of stuff. left you feeling good though. with the tiredness comes a slippery, effervascent, kind of selfestee, with a fleeting life span.
They went on to the pub, and dancing. Obviously not one for such merry pursuits, I came up with some interesting and colourful things I had to do at home, infact, was even latefor (reminding myself of thomas from book against god) or of course of harry from steppenwolf.
Somehow dragged my aching limbs home, and plonked on the floor with my orange security blanket. Nothing to watch on the telly. Nothing to eat in the house. There was some beef I'd planned for this weekend but too tired to cook. Weekly quota of movies has not arrived. Dmn lovefilm.com. So I watched 'Naach' instead. Is she awesome, or is she awesome. (note: no question mark)
Saturday, went to the library, got late for rowing, ran to the bus-stop and then to the boathouse. Rowed for hour (ish) with new crew, and on stroke side (2). I hate rowing on stroke side.
By the time I got home I was really tired, but happy. Slept till 8 in the PM. Woke up to choco bikkis and the new coffee. Arabic. Strong. Fruity. Aromatic. Suitable for after dinner. Soon buying coffee will be as spooky as buying wine. Made some nice beef curry and pilau, proper stuff with saffron and rose water and ghee and almonds and all that ... interesting combination. By now the movies of the weekend were here: Hero (Quentin T), The man who would be King, Mothman Prophecies and Igby goes Down. They were all boring, though I goes the last was the least. Called Mom. Called Dad. Called Sister. Called A for a long chat. He's sick of life. He's bored. He doesnt know where the f life is going. S (with better half and baby) is back home again. He didnt get to see her. C is really disgusted with him cz he couldnt be bothered to come for founders day socials. for heavens sake man ... can u now be blase abt School. Schocking. Schacrilege. Schmuck. however, all's forgiven now as he is on parole and has spent long hours of quality time with her and her newly found dude. Oh Dmn! I'm too bored and listless even to make fun. I dreamt of everyone last night:
It was raining. It was late afternoon, after an interact meeting. Chatts, Sauce, Addy and myself were sitting on that little red concrete thing (just outside the rawdon st. gate, on the left and brgging johnny the ice cream man to give us one free ice cream. Major mix up - we used to only do this really shameful begging act much before 'interact-and-all-that' (read boys) happened to us. Anyway, we were just sitting there and moaning about how we and our lives are competing for worthlessness.
Then we are in San Antonio and my patio, its dark. really late. no human sounds. theres the green wire garden chair. The rain falls in a glittering curtain from the parapet of the floor above. the air smells of loads of IK. the black, slick, wet road in front sends off a load swish of car wheels every some time. cz the road never sleeps. if u close ur eyes and throw ur head back, u can make blv its the sea.
Then I woke up. Does it mean anything? Does anything mean anything. Life? Dreams? Selves? When I was young I thought of people as one of 2 types. Those who realise its a game and refuse to play it, and those who think its real and get all into it. As I grow old, and older still, I see so many shades inbetween. My favourite is the ones who see through it, still play it, as if mocking themselves, or life itself.
Maybe I wanna go back in time. Or do I? Sometimes I think the ecstacies of childhood are really overrated. U cant support urself, u cant defend urself, u cant even really think for urself. Worst of all, it never really goes away, does it?
An open query: how does this comments thing work? Are you supposed to reply to comments people have left on ur blog or do they not really want an answer? If yes, then do u reply on ur blog or theres. If on urs - how will they know u've replied. If on theirs, how will they get the thread? i know its a little late in the day, but I'm really confused.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Threads
Sometimes I get so tired of following strings, taking care of the child, trying to keep these wilting relationships alive, weave a family from these old, tangled, ragged, dirty, delicate threads. Sometimes, I wish I could gather all the threads of my life, collect all the people that I am, iwishtherewasonemoreicouldthinkof for symmetry, and dump the whole mass, trailing loose ends, knotted, jumbled, torn bits, hopeless pieces, colourful patterns, lost threads and all and dump it all on someones lap to sort out for me and say I'm sorry, I'm lost without a trace. Where would find someone like that: clever enough, grownup enough, who cared enough, strong enough. Would I hate them the next moment bcz deep down I'll know them to be false gods, false feet to fall at?
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Betrayal and Guilt: Incomplete
it keeps coming up in literature, movies, myth, legend, every spinning and dancing of the human mind like a motif, like a recurrant theme: spiderman tells off beloved uncle who brought him up, in a fit of rage, uncle dies, spiderman lives on racked by eternal guilt;
someone loves you. you enjoy and savour that unique and exquisite feeling which wraps around you like a warm, soft, safe blanket: a security blanket. that feeling of 'safety' and 'security' that can only come from being loved unquestioningly and unconditionally by someone, they way most childrean are loved by their mothers. some men, by their women. u take them for granted. theres an exquisite feeling which you can't get from anything else in the world. u dont have to earn their love. u dont have to be nice to them u can be urself. u can be mean. u can be nasty. they'll take any thing from you bcz they 'love' you. they'll never stop. they'll never leave.
maybe u love them too. but they know it. u dont need to show it. you dont need to work. u take them for granted and get on with 'ur life': u have a life of ur own.
but one day they leave. or they die. and ur so bereft u just break with this realisation, which hits u for the first time, that lives cant be separate and people joined. ur life was them too, in part. their life was u, too. it hits u when its too late. u cant have ur own life, all of u, and have families too. U must choose. Choose now and pay later. For the rest of ur life.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
someone loves you. you enjoy and savour that unique and exquisite feeling which wraps around you like a warm, soft, safe blanket: a security blanket. that feeling of 'safety' and 'security' that can only come from being loved unquestioningly and unconditionally by someone, they way most childrean are loved by their mothers. some men, by their women. u take them for granted. theres an exquisite feeling which you can't get from anything else in the world. u dont have to earn their love. u dont have to be nice to them u can be urself. u can be mean. u can be nasty. they'll take any thing from you bcz they 'love' you. they'll never stop. they'll never leave.
maybe u love them too. but they know it. u dont need to show it. you dont need to work. u take them for granted and get on with 'ur life': u have a life of ur own.
but one day they leave. or they die. and ur so bereft u just break with this realisation, which hits u for the first time, that lives cant be separate and people joined. ur life was them too, in part. their life was u, too. it hits u when its too late. u cant have ur own life, all of u, and have families too. U must choose. Choose now and pay later. For the rest of ur life.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Is it Love? No, its Dove
When i fall in Love
Actually, that should probably be whenever, but nevermind that. ever wondered about the phenomenon of love, crushes, attraction, or even plain simple liking? why do we, on meeting a group of people we know nothing about, subconsciously feel we like a few better? Why do we sometimes feel attracted to someone, we may not even know from adam? Why does one fine day, a fleeting moment come, when a old, loved friend feel like something special?
Suddenly there's magic, in the air and you're acting confused when he's close to you! You dont even know the first thing about him, but the the first thing you do on entering a room is check if he's there. You've never even held her hand, but just seeing a mail from her makes you smile: love. Why?
Away from their influence, you rationalise, you argue, you resolve to never again. You talk to ur inner child, you explain, you scold, threaten, cajole: Inner child nods sagely and hangs head shamefacedly ... but the next time he looks in ur eyes, or once again, she smiles, everything goes out of control all over again. U'r heart races a wee bit faster. U feel a atleast little bit happier. Inside, ur singing & dancing & smiling
Everytime is like the first time. U feel even when u know ur not really feeling it. U do the most irrational and uncharecterstic things. It just doesnt make sense. I once decided a certain someone guy was a soul mate and I he is the one I will marry and have babies with, after talking to him on the phone for 20 mins. In a few days it had passed and logic prevailed, but at that moment it was really intense! If he had asked, I'd have done anything for him right then! U feel it even when u're in love without someone. Reminds me of a line from chinatown "You see, Mr. Gitts, most people never have to face the fact. At the right time and the right place, they're capable of ... anything!"
Is it Dove? Naah. I think, its just Dust. OST for post: "you asked me whether love you, and i choke on my reply. i'd rather hurt u honestly, than mislead you with a lie. but sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much, and "
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Actually, that should probably be whenever, but nevermind that. ever wondered about the phenomenon of love, crushes, attraction, or even plain simple liking? why do we, on meeting a group of people we know nothing about, subconsciously feel we like a few better? Why do we sometimes feel attracted to someone, we may not even know from adam? Why does one fine day, a fleeting moment come, when a old, loved friend feel like something special?
Suddenly there's magic, in the air and you're acting confused when he's close to you! You dont even know the first thing about him, but the the first thing you do on entering a room is check if he's there. You've never even held her hand, but just seeing a mail from her makes you smile: love. Why?
Away from their influence, you rationalise, you argue, you resolve to never again. You talk to ur inner child, you explain, you scold, threaten, cajole: Inner child nods sagely and hangs head shamefacedly ... but the next time he looks in ur eyes, or once again, she smiles, everything goes out of control all over again. U'r heart races a wee bit faster. U feel a atleast little bit happier. Inside, ur singing & dancing & smiling
Everytime is like the first time. U feel even when u know ur not really feeling it. U do the most irrational and uncharecterstic things. It just doesnt make sense. I once decided a certain someone guy was a soul mate and I he is the one I will marry and have babies with, after talking to him on the phone for 20 mins. In a few days it had passed and logic prevailed, but at that moment it was really intense! If he had asked, I'd have done anything for him right then! U feel it even when u're in love without someone. Reminds me of a line from chinatown "You see, Mr. Gitts, most people never have to face the fact. At the right time and the right place, they're capable of ... anything!"
Is it Dove? Naah. I think, its just Dust. OST for post: "you asked me whether love you, and i choke on my reply. i'd rather hurt u honestly, than mislead you with a lie. but sometimes when we touch, the honesty's too much, and "
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Fool Forever
time, i'm ur fool
time and again, i fool myself,
one day you'll come
life, i'm ur fool
lifetimes pass: i'm yet to learn
what we're living for
Friend, i'm ur fool
friendships and Faeries,
i believed them all
Love, I am ur fool forever
Lovesick for a dream
Loath to give up the game
55 word poem
time and again, i fool myself,
one day you'll come
life, i'm ur fool
lifetimes pass: i'm yet to learn
what we're living for
Friend, i'm ur fool
friendships and Faeries,
i believed them all
Love, I am ur fool forever
Lovesick for a dream
Loath to give up the game
55 word poem
Fools Forever
Fool that i am, i dont even realise till i see the back turned. time after time i meet people trying to establish and feed 'good working relationships' and time after time i mistake it for real friendship. like ramu and rama. a mite for a myth. though, i think its only fair. as usual, i think and am sure that its i'm the one who must have gotten it wrong.
looking around, feel really ancient. its been so long, that the beginnings are beginning to blur. yet, i dont think i learned anything at all. sadder but none the wiser
Found my old friend, the musician, again last night raising spirits on rose street, as usual.
Its a big rowing weekend. We're gowing to glasgow, I think and have loads of stuff coming up soon. I'm tried of the way I never seem to find or fit into a 4+ properly. Maybe I should try sculling again? The whole point of the move was however that I wanted to learn team work. Bah!
Come morning I was on the run again. It was dark & cold. Even after one lap round the royal botanical: no sweat. Hands felt too numb to reach for my cell and check my time. I run past an old man with layers and layers of clothes and he gives me a strange look. I smile back and wave good morning. In the dark of the morning the whole world seems less frightening.
As I walk back, the surface of the pond is fading from lead to silver. The swans imperiously pulling out head tucked into wings and looking with coldly at the ducks who have been up and racketing a while. You can almost feel the raisied eyebrow. Overhead, the dawn flushed sky seems to gently smile. As I walk out of the park and onto the street, the shopkeepers are setting up their shops. The little cafes smell of something tempting. I look at my watch and start to hurry: dont want to miss the dog-who-comes-back-at-seven-thirty: i have a crush on a german shephard next door who looks just like a bleached version of Leo. Re-incarnation?
I pass into the the Water-Of-Lieth walkway. The canopy of trees overhead makes it darker than it is. Its deserted, as usual. A squirrel runs across the thickpile carpet of fall leaves ... rich russet, red, yellow all the shades I love best.
I just found out Edinburgh is the UNESCO city of Literature. Seven layers of city. Flocking with tourits, passers-through, immigrants and the happy and drunk. Everyone smiles. Everyone has time to make friends or chat a wee bit. Theres a castle bang in the middle and miscellaneous historical sites sprinkled over a overall city thats actually pretty miniscule. And the Lieth runs through it. As the end approaches, I realise, how much I have fallen in love with it.
Yet, South-Ave and Rawdon street beckons. School. Park Street. Rowing on the Lakes. Standing around on the hanging bridge. SPE. (egg mutton rolls, biryaani, chaap, kosha mangsho luchi). My Calcutta. My beautiful Calcutta. My angel. My love. The most special and sweet and unique of all ... is this how a guy feels coming home from mistress to love?
;@)
Originally Posted at Prerona.
looking around, feel really ancient. its been so long, that the beginnings are beginning to blur. yet, i dont think i learned anything at all. sadder but none the wiser
Found my old friend, the musician, again last night raising spirits on rose street, as usual.
Its a big rowing weekend. We're gowing to glasgow, I think and have loads of stuff coming up soon. I'm tried of the way I never seem to find or fit into a 4+ properly. Maybe I should try sculling again? The whole point of the move was however that I wanted to learn team work. Bah!
Come morning I was on the run again. It was dark & cold. Even after one lap round the royal botanical: no sweat. Hands felt too numb to reach for my cell and check my time. I run past an old man with layers and layers of clothes and he gives me a strange look. I smile back and wave good morning. In the dark of the morning the whole world seems less frightening.
As I walk back, the surface of the pond is fading from lead to silver. The swans imperiously pulling out head tucked into wings and looking with coldly at the ducks who have been up and racketing a while. You can almost feel the raisied eyebrow. Overhead, the dawn flushed sky seems to gently smile. As I walk out of the park and onto the street, the shopkeepers are setting up their shops. The little cafes smell of something tempting. I look at my watch and start to hurry: dont want to miss the dog-who-comes-back-at-seven-thirty: i have a crush on a german shephard next door who looks just like a bleached version of Leo. Re-incarnation?
I pass into the the Water-Of-Lieth walkway. The canopy of trees overhead makes it darker than it is. Its deserted, as usual. A squirrel runs across the thickpile carpet of fall leaves ... rich russet, red, yellow all the shades I love best.
I just found out Edinburgh is the UNESCO city of Literature. Seven layers of city. Flocking with tourits, passers-through, immigrants and the happy and drunk. Everyone smiles. Everyone has time to make friends or chat a wee bit. Theres a castle bang in the middle and miscellaneous historical sites sprinkled over a overall city thats actually pretty miniscule. And the Lieth runs through it. As the end approaches, I realise, how much I have fallen in love with it.
Yet, South-Ave and Rawdon street beckons. School. Park Street. Rowing on the Lakes. Standing around on the hanging bridge. SPE. (egg mutton rolls, biryaani, chaap, kosha mangsho luchi). My Calcutta. My beautiful Calcutta. My angel. My love. The most special and sweet and unique of all ... is this how a guy feels coming home from mistress to love?
;@)
Originally Posted at Prerona.
homewards bound
its one thing to know where the next step is, and another to step into it. its one thing to know what you want to do next, and another to ask for it.
courage?
on the personal front: the last (and first) time i packed my bags and got ready for a permanent move to my parents house was when i was 10; the last (and first) time i packed my bags and got ready for a permanent move out of my parents house was when i was 18; Its been 12 years since then; surely somethings will have changed?
anticipation!
Originally Posted at Prerona.
courage?
on the personal front: the last (and first) time i packed my bags and got ready for a permanent move to my parents house was when i was 10; the last (and first) time i packed my bags and got ready for a permanent move out of my parents house was when i was 18; Its been 12 years since then; surely somethings will have changed?
anticipation!
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Earthquake in Kashmir and Pakistan: Links to Aid sites
The death toll in Saturday's earthquake in Jammu and Kashmir has risen to 927, including 619 in Baramulla and 301 in Kupwara, the worst-affected frontier districts. The number of the injured has crossed 3,000 and 4,597 houses have been destroyed, as per official figures available till late Monday evening.
Not many volunteers in sight yet in Kashmir. You would have thought Kashmir, today, already had enough problems. You would have thought the world, today, had enough problems. It makes you want to cry and say please stop hurting my people anymore. How can people carry on the ancient inherited juvenile fights and argue that they deserved it? No 3 year old child deserves to die trapped under rubble for days, in the dark, alone because her grandfather belonged to a group of people who fought with another group of people. I dunno. I just know that its irrelevant. History is irrelevant Kashmir is irrelevant. How can you continue the Hindu/Muslim fight when you probably wouldnt even know one from the other if you saw them on the streets? Somewhere it reminds me of the child with two mothers, tugging at both ends for possesion - an old fable i had read somewhere, sometime. Corny? Yeah I know. Muddled? Probably. Back to objective and grown up, then.
If you want to help take a look at these sites through which you can donate online or via phone if you want:
unicef
redcross
action aid
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Not many volunteers in sight yet in Kashmir. You would have thought Kashmir, today, already had enough problems. You would have thought the world, today, had enough problems. It makes you want to cry and say please stop hurting my people anymore. How can people carry on the ancient inherited juvenile fights and argue that they deserved it? No 3 year old child deserves to die trapped under rubble for days, in the dark, alone because her grandfather belonged to a group of people who fought with another group of people. I dunno. I just know that its irrelevant. History is irrelevant Kashmir is irrelevant. How can you continue the Hindu/Muslim fight when you probably wouldnt even know one from the other if you saw them on the streets? Somewhere it reminds me of the child with two mothers, tugging at both ends for possesion - an old fable i had read somewhere, sometime. Corny? Yeah I know. Muddled? Probably. Back to objective and grown up, then.
If you want to help take a look at these sites through which you can donate online or via phone if you want:
unicef
redcross
action aid
Originally Posted at Prerona.
the little gypsy boy at another new school
the mind keeps mumbling out its stream of logic, but somewhere, the words are lost before the reach the heart, the eyes. it keeps shuddering and it keeps raining. somewhere along the way u get so tired, of keeping up pretences, being polite, civilised, smile ... just smile ... takes such a huge effort.
the commonest of common denominators ... death. a handful of mustard seeds. how did it help her? it doesnt help me.
today is the 6th day of the Pujo. Once the world used to stop. My world. Now my world has shrunk to a pinhead, inside my heart, dried and shrunken heart.
I prayed a few nights back, before I closed my eyes, as the tears ran salty, sweet ... let me be alive again, please god, let me feel alive again.
always She smiles, sarcastic. to feel alive is to feel the pain again. to be alive is to face the truth again. to remember, to hurt, to expect, to smile and then cry. hiccups, shuddering breaths, crumpled bodies, on the floor, in the corner, behind the doors, on the tiles, lying face down in a pool of ur own bile and tears ... thats alive. or the only kind on offer for you for today.
bits and pieces of old friends, good times long, long ago, movies well loved, books once cherised, footprints left behind in the cement of memory, random memories shoved into an all receiving, all holding desk - from which (like "her") you can pull out long forgotten old loves for a smile and a tear ... diamonds and rust ... a mix and mangle of "remember when"s and "the first time i"s
from some dark and dusty corner, a cloud, a memory floats up ... a frozen pool, sorrounded by snow, a man huddled in the snow, in front of him a fire and eyes ... such eyes. is that really Your true face? are You really so jealous? must be, seeing the way life went.
why does it hurt? i didnt expect any of you to be my friends. to comprehend. to know how tightly we must hold the lid above our cages, we who have boiling demons inside, and cold snakes inside. i kept my distance, so that u wouldnt discern my masks. i wore my masks, bcz i was scared of you. down the ages, in different days and different ways, ur type has burnt my type at the stake. i have so much to hide, bcz i have so much inside ... and my deepest hate springs from my deepest love. i stay away wary, dancing my little dance ... bcz though i want to be your friend and come and play with you, i'm scared u'll notice: i have raw edges, here and there and festering bleeding wounds. they cant be healed. i've made my peace, with the stink and pain. u'll try to make it better and i'm so scared to ur symapthetic look. u thought me cold? a hypocrite. the pretender. i guess i am. then why, am i so sad?
Originally Posted at Prerona.
the commonest of common denominators ... death. a handful of mustard seeds. how did it help her? it doesnt help me.
today is the 6th day of the Pujo. Once the world used to stop. My world. Now my world has shrunk to a pinhead, inside my heart, dried and shrunken heart.
I prayed a few nights back, before I closed my eyes, as the tears ran salty, sweet ... let me be alive again, please god, let me feel alive again.
always She smiles, sarcastic. to feel alive is to feel the pain again. to be alive is to face the truth again. to remember, to hurt, to expect, to smile and then cry. hiccups, shuddering breaths, crumpled bodies, on the floor, in the corner, behind the doors, on the tiles, lying face down in a pool of ur own bile and tears ... thats alive. or the only kind on offer for you for today.
bits and pieces of old friends, good times long, long ago, movies well loved, books once cherised, footprints left behind in the cement of memory, random memories shoved into an all receiving, all holding desk - from which (like "her") you can pull out long forgotten old loves for a smile and a tear ... diamonds and rust ... a mix and mangle of "remember when"s and "the first time i"s
from some dark and dusty corner, a cloud, a memory floats up ... a frozen pool, sorrounded by snow, a man huddled in the snow, in front of him a fire and eyes ... such eyes. is that really Your true face? are You really so jealous? must be, seeing the way life went.
why does it hurt? i didnt expect any of you to be my friends. to comprehend. to know how tightly we must hold the lid above our cages, we who have boiling demons inside, and cold snakes inside. i kept my distance, so that u wouldnt discern my masks. i wore my masks, bcz i was scared of you. down the ages, in different days and different ways, ur type has burnt my type at the stake. i have so much to hide, bcz i have so much inside ... and my deepest hate springs from my deepest love. i stay away wary, dancing my little dance ... bcz though i want to be your friend and come and play with you, i'm scared u'll notice: i have raw edges, here and there and festering bleeding wounds. they cant be healed. i've made my peace, with the stink and pain. u'll try to make it better and i'm so scared to ur symapthetic look. u thought me cold? a hypocrite. the pretender. i guess i am. then why, am i so sad?
Originally Posted at Prerona.
to the Sea: this is where I wish I was, tonight
its almost dark
i can hear the waves roar and crash below me,
like a frustrated monster,
trapped on the shore
i watch out for those adjectives,
as someone, in some childhood 'quiz'
had once said "how u described the sea
was how u see life".
So, its dark.
No birds.
Many stars in the sky,
they shine tauntingly.
Theres a lighthouse, somewhere,
and black rocks, for the beach
Theres no soul, living, dead or inbetween
anywhere
Theres a sharp, cutting wind
Its cold. The cold makes it feel clean, pure, cleansed
The wind is singing and laughing
Laughing at the each trembling, towering, inflated,
insurmountable, immense, human agony and flaw
The Giants of this moment,
Sand for the next.
Sad is funny
Funny is sad
Two sides,
of the same urban monster
U can hear ur thoughts in the foreground.
Against the backdrop of the sea-song
Ring-a-ring-a-Roses
Pocket-full-of-Poses
Hush-a-Bush-a
We'll-all fall-dead
Originally posted at Prerona
i can hear the waves roar and crash below me,
like a frustrated monster,
trapped on the shore
i watch out for those adjectives,
as someone, in some childhood 'quiz'
had once said "how u described the sea
was how u see life".
So, its dark.
No birds.
Many stars in the sky,
they shine tauntingly.
Theres a lighthouse, somewhere,
and black rocks, for the beach
Theres no soul, living, dead or inbetween
anywhere
Theres a sharp, cutting wind
Its cold. The cold makes it feel clean, pure, cleansed
The wind is singing and laughing
Laughing at the each trembling, towering, inflated,
insurmountable, immense, human agony and flaw
The Giants of this moment,
Sand for the next.
Sad is funny
Funny is sad
Two sides,
of the same urban monster
U can hear ur thoughts in the foreground.
Against the backdrop of the sea-song
Ring-a-ring-a-Roses
Pocket-full-of-Poses
Hush-a-Bush-a
We'll-all fall-dead
Originally posted at Prerona
TAGGED: 5/23
I've been tagged by Peggy! My 5'th sentence in my 23rd post is "the opposite of love is indifference ...". Thats kind of it. Hard to say for certain as I was going through a split with my old-friend, 'punctuation'. Also, had to pick from Ricercar cz I dont have 23 posts here!
Here are my offerings to the sacrifice:
Parna
Aparna
Arundhati
Austere
Maddie
and here are the rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.
Parting shot: an interesting post here: vulturo, on gandhi
Originally posted @ Prerona.
Here are my offerings to the sacrifice:
Parna
Aparna
Arundhati
Austere
Maddie
and here are the rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.
Parting shot: an interesting post here: vulturo, on gandhi
Originally posted @ Prerona.
Link List
Background Track: thats not me by the Beach Boys, from Pet Sounds.
Ghost from the past: had a phonecall from an old friend. Where are you calling from? A booth in Delhi. Someone I have written about often. He used to threaten to flush me down the toilet when he was 11 and I was 1 ... that old.
We drift in and out of touch, all of us. Bonds so strong, so magical, yet we stretch and pull them. Some stretch and then pull us back again. Some snap and break. Maybe it really does depend on the quality of the connection, because I dont even notice the ones that snap. Its much harder for me to make casual friendships than the average guy, yet much easier to make those immense, meaningful friendships where you really love, than the average guy. As a corollary, its hard to keep constantly in touch with all of even my inner circle of friends. I come and go (like the kkk KC ... another blast from the past). Some accept it and let me. Some dont and make me. Some just walk away.
Yet, inspite of it all, in some ways theres never anyone for anyone, really, is there? When you most want to talk, you wont find a listener. What you most want to share, noone will understand. When ur most hurt, noone will care. So why have friends? The JAP's were right: we all need somebody to love.
I really want to do a post on some new blogs I have discovered: they are really great. Maybe next week. For now, the guru of verse is back & I really liked this post from UC: the youngest human being I know & also, these:
Aparna, Nightfly, Chris & STARK
This last week my 'self' has been acting really strange. I woke up late(er). Broke my diet several times. Shopped for non-essentials twice and today have been horsing around the office all day cracking jokes with people I'd shiver in shoes to say hello to, usually. I daydream all day and stare into space. My output censor board is napping. My discipline enforcer is on holiday. I think my entire admin department is on strike. As a proper Scorpio I dutifully oscillate between all extremes, never touching the middles, but I havent seen this one in ages ... I smell something coming, its in the wind.
This morning as I left home for my morning run, 4:45 am it was - and dark as the night, I heard a eerie wail from down the street. A man and a woman, who looked like they hadnt been home yet, were having quite a show down. Impressive volume with the lady's voice. Considered saying excuse me, we need marshalls at our head races next w/e - would you consider to helping out?
Big sale at the Virgin! Bought a load of music, that I definitely knew I didnt need as soon as the guy at the counter told me the total ... but the Essential Ozzy is quite nice, and so is Damien Rice.
A interesting story on Calcutta from rediff - ignore his (mis)spelling. More and more everyday I am forced to realise, everyone has a personal copy of this city. Mine is so different from yours, but whichever way it is, once you've lived in it, it lives in you forever.
Interesting: How the brain sleeps (system processes on standby)
This seemed like the hottest topic in blogosphere yesterday and this what some celebs think: Why Paheli was selected to represent India in the Oscars: A Paheli. the word 'paheli' means riddle in 'indian'. Heated argument on Patrix's blog, I disagreed on a certain commenter's viewpoint but in the end could not muster up the energy to argue it. Typically. Why should China be forced to send Shaolin vs Ninja when it has exquisite movies like Spring time in a small town, just because it smells more like an american chinese takeaway, or conforms more to an avg american's image of what China should look like in film?
Interesting post by Kaps: Caught red handed
In other news, we are going mercurial, and maybe MahaRam? Whassat? Nevermind.
Originally posted at Prerona
Ghost from the past: had a phonecall from an old friend. Where are you calling from? A booth in Delhi. Someone I have written about often. He used to threaten to flush me down the toilet when he was 11 and I was 1 ... that old.
We drift in and out of touch, all of us. Bonds so strong, so magical, yet we stretch and pull them. Some stretch and then pull us back again. Some snap and break. Maybe it really does depend on the quality of the connection, because I dont even notice the ones that snap. Its much harder for me to make casual friendships than the average guy, yet much easier to make those immense, meaningful friendships where you really love, than the average guy. As a corollary, its hard to keep constantly in touch with all of even my inner circle of friends. I come and go (like the kkk KC ... another blast from the past). Some accept it and let me. Some dont and make me. Some just walk away.
Yet, inspite of it all, in some ways theres never anyone for anyone, really, is there? When you most want to talk, you wont find a listener. What you most want to share, noone will understand. When ur most hurt, noone will care. So why have friends? The JAP's were right: we all need somebody to love.
I really want to do a post on some new blogs I have discovered: they are really great. Maybe next week. For now, the guru of verse is back & I really liked this post from UC: the youngest human being I know & also, these:
Aparna, Nightfly, Chris & STARK
This last week my 'self' has been acting really strange. I woke up late(er). Broke my diet several times. Shopped for non-essentials twice and today have been horsing around the office all day cracking jokes with people I'd shiver in shoes to say hello to, usually. I daydream all day and stare into space. My output censor board is napping. My discipline enforcer is on holiday. I think my entire admin department is on strike. As a proper Scorpio I dutifully oscillate between all extremes, never touching the middles, but I havent seen this one in ages ... I smell something coming, its in the wind.
This morning as I left home for my morning run, 4:45 am it was - and dark as the night, I heard a eerie wail from down the street. A man and a woman, who looked like they hadnt been home yet, were having quite a show down. Impressive volume with the lady's voice. Considered saying excuse me, we need marshalls at our head races next w/e - would you consider to helping out?
Big sale at the Virgin! Bought a load of music, that I definitely knew I didnt need as soon as the guy at the counter told me the total ... but the Essential Ozzy is quite nice, and so is Damien Rice.
A interesting story on Calcutta from rediff - ignore his (mis)spelling. More and more everyday I am forced to realise, everyone has a personal copy of this city. Mine is so different from yours, but whichever way it is, once you've lived in it, it lives in you forever.
Interesting: How the brain sleeps (system processes on standby)
This seemed like the hottest topic in blogosphere yesterday and this what some celebs think: Why Paheli was selected to represent India in the Oscars: A Paheli. the word 'paheli' means riddle in 'indian'. Heated argument on Patrix's blog, I disagreed on a certain commenter's viewpoint but in the end could not muster up the energy to argue it. Typically. Why should China be forced to send Shaolin vs Ninja when it has exquisite movies like Spring time in a small town, just because it smells more like an american chinese takeaway, or conforms more to an avg american's image of what China should look like in film?
Interesting post by Kaps: Caught red handed
In other news, we are going mercurial, and maybe MahaRam? Whassat? Nevermind.
Originally posted at Prerona
Last night's TV: Dylan on BBC
BBC is celebrating a dylan season and this was a part of it:Arena. No Direction Home
For me Dylan has always been 'controversial', meaning I could never make up my mind about him. So many of the songs I like, when I trace them back, turn out to be written by him. Yet, I dont like them that much when I hear him play them.
Anyway, this show was more abt him than his music (once more bringing us back to the same point ... Immortality ... they are more interested in you than your Art, the *&%@'s), but the highlight, for me was when they showed this concert where he comes onstage and tries to sing like a rolling stone with electric, with really sad results, and gets quite badly booed by the audience. After the show, when asked about it he says "actually, i look at booing in perspective. it is possible to kill with too much kindness".
Other interesting quotes: When asked if he mainly thought of himself as a musician or a poet he reacts 'I like to think of myself as a song and dance man'. Or, this man in the audience, with a slightly defensive air, asks him 'i know u hate labels, but for us, definitely past 30 people, how would u label urself / music' and he says 'i think i would label myself as definitely below 30' and everyone laughs. Made me feel quite 'grownup' ... not sure if in a nice way!
Incidentally expert advice from Runners World on staying motivated ... choose the cutest running partner you can find :@)
Was talking about cliches abt countries in class and I thought, the whole world, the whole of society, is so different and we look at one little part of it and just blindly assume thats the all of it: just like the blind men and elephant. Actually, this is reference/ reaction to something entirely different, so ignore me.
Flag football this friday!!! Woke up listening to the old Lobo song: "who do u tell if u dont have a friend? these are the things that bother me. not a lot of thing across some sea" and the new pictures from Iraq. Be careful what you wish for, it might come true ... and never again say you wish you cried easy. i do.
Originally Posted on Prerona
For me Dylan has always been 'controversial', meaning I could never make up my mind about him. So many of the songs I like, when I trace them back, turn out to be written by him. Yet, I dont like them that much when I hear him play them.
Anyway, this show was more abt him than his music (once more bringing us back to the same point ... Immortality ... they are more interested in you than your Art, the *&%@'s), but the highlight, for me was when they showed this concert where he comes onstage and tries to sing like a rolling stone with electric, with really sad results, and gets quite badly booed by the audience. After the show, when asked about it he says "actually, i look at booing in perspective. it is possible to kill with too much kindness".
Other interesting quotes: When asked if he mainly thought of himself as a musician or a poet he reacts 'I like to think of myself as a song and dance man'. Or, this man in the audience, with a slightly defensive air, asks him 'i know u hate labels, but for us, definitely past 30 people, how would u label urself / music' and he says 'i think i would label myself as definitely below 30' and everyone laughs. Made me feel quite 'grownup' ... not sure if in a nice way!
Incidentally expert advice from Runners World on staying motivated ... choose the cutest running partner you can find :@)
Was talking about cliches abt countries in class and I thought, the whole world, the whole of society, is so different and we look at one little part of it and just blindly assume thats the all of it: just like the blind men and elephant. Actually, this is reference/ reaction to something entirely different, so ignore me.
Flag football this friday!!! Woke up listening to the old Lobo song: "who do u tell if u dont have a friend? these are the things that bother me. not a lot of thing across some sea" and the new pictures from Iraq. Be careful what you wish for, it might come true ... and never again say you wish you cried easy. i do.
Originally Posted on Prerona
55 Words (Disclaimer: Tagged)
Dying to be free
She looked down at her family and smiled. Childlike, gathered around the sofa, by the window. Some cried. Some stared. Some kept repeating: "i don't understand".
Only the body on the sofa stared straight up at her. in an unblinking, toneless gaze. like a tuneless song. she felt sad, guilty, but most of all: liberated.
Was tagged by Aparna. Will need to put a little thought into who I tag this time round. Since this was my second go, I really wanted to do something 'happy', but found it very hard. Will try again after a bit. These days my online time is really restricted.
Only the body on the sofa stared straight up at her. in an unblinking, toneless gaze. like a tuneless song. she felt sad, guilty, but most of all: liberated.
Was tagged by Aparna. Will need to put a little thought into who I tag this time round. Since this was my second go, I really wanted to do something 'happy', but found it very hard. Will try again after a bit. These days my online time is really restricted.
Was tagged into this by Parna, so here goes, in my bungling (55) words:
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
the weekend that was:
My horoscope says for today: Scorpio, ACCESS EVERYTHING YOU have ever learnt and put it all into action, then see where you want to go with more clarity than you have ever had before. Bah! Its always saying stupid things like that which could mean the world or nothing!
This sounded so nice in my head ... then between thought and paper, something was lost.
Been feeling nostalgic and sentimental: like I can smell a change on its way, borne upon the wind.
Nice weekend. Studied. Read. Cooked. Ate. Sat in the sun, with some cherised old memories, having taken them out to air, before I cleaned, polished and put them away again, for the winter, carefully packed with mothballs and dried flowers. Watched "Touching the Void", "Thin Red Line","Prelude to a kiss" and was enchanted by "Stand by Me". Its based on a Stephen King book called "The Body". Not his usual genre. A small story about 4 twelve year old boys who set off to find a dead body in the woods (of course the boy i liked the best would have to die, eventually. and for good measure, the actor as well ... River Phoenix). Called home: talked to Mom, Dad & my baby sister.
late on sunday afternoon, called a friend and asked her to meet me on Princes street for some 'shopping'. good lure. she loves it. i hate it. she knows. lured her into starbucks for some lazy gossip. we didnt shop ...
Originally posted @ Prerona
This sounded so nice in my head ... then between thought and paper, something was lost.
Been feeling nostalgic and sentimental: like I can smell a change on its way, borne upon the wind.
Nice weekend. Studied. Read. Cooked. Ate. Sat in the sun, with some cherised old memories, having taken them out to air, before I cleaned, polished and put them away again, for the winter, carefully packed with mothballs and dried flowers. Watched "Touching the Void", "Thin Red Line","Prelude to a kiss" and was enchanted by "Stand by Me". Its based on a Stephen King book called "The Body". Not his usual genre. A small story about 4 twelve year old boys who set off to find a dead body in the woods (of course the boy i liked the best would have to die, eventually. and for good measure, the actor as well ... River Phoenix). Called home: talked to Mom, Dad & my baby sister.
late on sunday afternoon, called a friend and asked her to meet me on Princes street for some 'shopping'. good lure. she loves it. i hate it. she knows. lured her into starbucks for some lazy gossip. we didnt shop ...
Originally posted @ Prerona
At Last
atlast i know i'll never find you
atlast, i know i'll never find you
now i know i'll never find you
now i know, we'll die alone.
in a lonely, crowded cafeteria
along some dusty path
u'll look into the distance and think of me
and wonder how life would have been
if u had managed to find me
would i have rescued you?
and late at night,
dancing with ghosts
to music that feels wet with tears
i'll sway in the dark
and glance at the moon
and think of the phantom i used to look for
and wonder if i'd been wrong?
this was just an idea ... if you want to take it and make it into something haf decent, pls feel free
atlast, i know i'll never find you
now i know i'll never find you
now i know, we'll die alone.
in a lonely, crowded cafeteria
along some dusty path
u'll look into the distance and think of me
and wonder how life would have been
if u had managed to find me
would i have rescued you?
and late at night,
dancing with ghosts
to music that feels wet with tears
i'll sway in the dark
and glance at the moon
and think of the phantom i used to look for
and wonder if i'd been wrong?
this was just an idea ... if you want to take it and make it into something haf decent, pls feel free
For Love
once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost once more
i ride the tired streets
from dalhousie
to the strand
there are no ships to see
or Gay to sit in
the boats still float around, with candles in tins
unlike in the movies, the maajhi never sings
i heard u loved the water ...
is there a river, where you've gone
in all these years, the second time.
gone. clear. dissapeared.
all the cliches talked about time
and how the pain will subside
it doesnt
it dulls and spreads and settles
claiming a little more, of my heart, as teritorry.
picture this:
you walk out
ur once long black hair trailing the floor
white and green and blue
soft, soft, clouds of cotton
float around you
i run, behind, legs still to short
gait still unsteady
once more, the lame boy
left outside the gates
rainbows from the rocks
stories like a littany
marking every hour, every day
dreams, hopes, forgiven little confessions
little steps, growing steps, tall steps ... and fly away
far far away
stretch ur hands ... u'll never reach me
wipe ur eyes, u'll never see me, again
till u run away
and leave me dry eyed. awake.
love. a dream.
friend, a dream.
dreams?
lies. illustrated.
i've gone in circles
around the world
never finding,
you. or ur shadow. or ur ghost
Coming Home
she was almost thirty. not pretty, but at times, she looked sweet when she smiled. black hair. she sat alone at the corner table of a cafeteria, a cup of coffee and a copy of "tender is the night" on the table. this was her first time. it was almost like a blind date, except that it felt different because they had been exchanging letters for so long. he, or his letters, had breezed into her life like a blast of fresh air. breaking the endless tedium her days had fallen into. relieving the underlines of dread her nights had aquired.
she was nervous. she fidgeted with the end of her hair. then remembering, put her hands back on her lap again. would he still like her as much in the flesh? would she love him as much in real life?
the door opened and he walked in. it must be him. he was just that height. red shoes. black hair.
he spotted her in her corner. their eyes met and they started laughing. i should've known it would be you, he said.
she was nervous. she fidgeted with the end of her hair. then remembering, put her hands back on her lap again. would he still like her as much in the flesh? would she love him as much in real life?
the door opened and he walked in. it must be him. he was just that height. red shoes. black hair.
he spotted her in her corner. their eyes met and they started laughing. i should've known it would be you, he said.
Ships in the Night: My friends and other strangers
Thinking about the 10K. Feel like it but it depends on if I can get some more people to come along.
As I walked home yesterday, late because the last meeting overran, I passed by my favourite stretch on the way home: the bit where I turn off princes street and walk by the small opening into "the world of rose street". I always like to think of it that way. It seems like so much is always happening there, anytime day or night.
Tonight there was someone singing floyd at the top of his voice, playing along a little badly on the guitar. There was something in his tone that just dragged out the reluctant grin. I walked past, but then walked back. Gave him a full pound. He grinned cheekily and sang 'just another beautiful girl'.
It was raining as I reached the bus stop. There was a man in glasses with a big black box and a massive canvas bag full of records. He was rolling a ciggie, in a way that always fascinates me. We talked about the weather. He was a DJ, on his way to work. He was late for work. Then we gave up waiting and ran to the next bus stop. It was so late, but there was no bus in sight. Some days I love Lothian. Then we talked abt Led Zep and Deep Purple. It was still raining. In front of the playhouse. All around there were people dressed up and going out. Dressed down and coming home from work. Dressed anyhow and just hanging out. A youth in a black jacket, immaculately stoned, smiled at us and said 'he's something else man'. Then he said something which no one caught and lovingly covered the black box with his jacket, to save it from the rain. Just then, the bus came.
Just another evening. Dad had come over. We were pub-hopping on Rose Street. We walked into a small one and sat down. There was a man sitting alone in a corner with a drink. He had tattoo's all over. He smiled at us and helped us shout aur drinks over to the lady at the bar. What do want? Surprise me: something bitter, maybe? not sweet or orangey. We talked for a while like that: The three of us shouting at each other over the music and across the empty chairs between us. Then he asked if he could come and sit at our table. He and my Dad told tales about the crazy places they had been to while I "really!'d" them on my cues. He was a writer. His first book was on its way out. He recommended a nice mexican joint for dinner next door. We smiled thank you's, but we didnt go there.
There's a nice lazy feeling that you get sometimes. Like you're not going anymore, like you dont need to be going anywhere, like time and place dont matter. Like nothing matters for a while: destinations, ambitions, the constant fight to be ur best possible self ever.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/ships-in-night-my-friends-and-other.html
As I walked home yesterday, late because the last meeting overran, I passed by my favourite stretch on the way home: the bit where I turn off princes street and walk by the small opening into "the world of rose street". I always like to think of it that way. It seems like so much is always happening there, anytime day or night.
Tonight there was someone singing floyd at the top of his voice, playing along a little badly on the guitar. There was something in his tone that just dragged out the reluctant grin. I walked past, but then walked back. Gave him a full pound. He grinned cheekily and sang 'just another beautiful girl'.
It was raining as I reached the bus stop. There was a man in glasses with a big black box and a massive canvas bag full of records. He was rolling a ciggie, in a way that always fascinates me. We talked about the weather. He was a DJ, on his way to work. He was late for work. Then we gave up waiting and ran to the next bus stop. It was so late, but there was no bus in sight. Some days I love Lothian. Then we talked abt Led Zep and Deep Purple. It was still raining. In front of the playhouse. All around there were people dressed up and going out. Dressed down and coming home from work. Dressed anyhow and just hanging out. A youth in a black jacket, immaculately stoned, smiled at us and said 'he's something else man'. Then he said something which no one caught and lovingly covered the black box with his jacket, to save it from the rain. Just then, the bus came.
Just another evening. Dad had come over. We were pub-hopping on Rose Street. We walked into a small one and sat down. There was a man sitting alone in a corner with a drink. He had tattoo's all over. He smiled at us and helped us shout aur drinks over to the lady at the bar. What do want? Surprise me: something bitter, maybe? not sweet or orangey. We talked for a while like that: The three of us shouting at each other over the music and across the empty chairs between us. Then he asked if he could come and sit at our table. He and my Dad told tales about the crazy places they had been to while I "really!'d" them on my cues. He was a writer. His first book was on its way out. He recommended a nice mexican joint for dinner next door. We smiled thank you's, but we didnt go there.
There's a nice lazy feeling that you get sometimes. Like you're not going anymore, like you dont need to be going anywhere, like time and place dont matter. Like nothing matters for a while: destinations, ambitions, the constant fight to be ur best possible self ever.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/ships-in-night-my-friends-and-other.html
Lullaby IV
pile of dead babies on the floor
mama dont cry anymore
pile of dead babies by the door
mama, pls dont go
blood of dead babies all around
daddy pls come home
blood of dead babies smelling so foul
daddy pls let it go
crying, wailing, bloody in my lap
an unborn little one crying non stop
blood and tears blend with phlegm
little brother come back once more
pile of dead baies on my corpse
my little one, all is lost
mama dont cry anymore
pile of dead babies by the door
mama, pls dont go
blood of dead babies all around
daddy pls come home
blood of dead babies smelling so foul
daddy pls let it go
crying, wailing, bloody in my lap
an unborn little one crying non stop
blood and tears blend with phlegm
little brother come back once more
pile of dead baies on my corpse
my little one, all is lost
The Birth and Youth of Bitterness
the moment
in which u gather
the courage to reach out
no one s there
the pain, is at times still
like a pond, of rotting, smelling, putrid water
at times it quivers, burns, dances and overwhelmes
sometimes i cant bear it
not another minute
this unbearableness
this knowledge
this burden
this pressure
to hold it all in
to know i have to spare them
to be nice
to every hand, with knives still dripping blood
to remember, they have no clue
what they are doing, how it hurts
the burning desire
for the freedom
of once ... just once, just letting it rip
letting go
the burden
of consoling u
for ur sorrow
in ur gentle, careful nurture
of my seed
from sapling, to bonsai, to cruelly, bitter poison weed
in which u gather
the courage to reach out
no one s there
the pain, is at times still
like a pond, of rotting, smelling, putrid water
at times it quivers, burns, dances and overwhelmes
sometimes i cant bear it
not another minute
this unbearableness
this knowledge
this burden
this pressure
to hold it all in
to know i have to spare them
to be nice
to every hand, with knives still dripping blood
to remember, they have no clue
what they are doing, how it hurts
the burning desire
for the freedom
of once ... just once, just letting it rip
letting go
the burden
of consoling u
for ur sorrow
in ur gentle, careful nurture
of my seed
from sapling, to bonsai, to cruelly, bitter poison weed
Rainbows
a little bird is chirping on a tree
i feel like, its singing to me
saw rainbow on my way to work
looked like a fairy world
somedays u feel like running away
take off on a holiday
the rain slick grounds seem to wink
everything conspires to make u think
sometimes laughing like a gurgling brook
sometimes smile like a shining secret light
sometimes lost
sometimes sad
feeling restless
along the way
like reading a story
and u want to know the end
such a pretty world
such a merry world
i feel like, its singing to me
saw rainbow on my way to work
looked like a fairy world
somedays u feel like running away
take off on a holiday
the rain slick grounds seem to wink
everything conspires to make u think
sometimes laughing like a gurgling brook
sometimes smile like a shining secret light
sometimes lost
sometimes sad
feeling restless
along the way
like reading a story
and u want to know the end
such a pretty world
such a merry world
Black
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
raw wounds
festering
bleeding
delicate
so hidden
still needing the dark
to form a crust
though inside, they will still be raw
sympathy
pity
love
affection
prying eyes
and fingers
acid
burns
hurts
voyeor
go away
dont watch
my deepest darkest pain
Friday Blues: Indigo Skies
A snug kitchen, coloured in dark reds and cream. A square table, at which, sat a young-ish girl, doing her homework; or so I assumed. At the oven, a lady, with a dark blue apron around her waist and tagging her, as no other word would would describe it, a little boy. From the distance and from the look on his face, a little boy in 'question-mode'.
Two houses down, a cool, elegant sitting room. In the corner, a dark blue sofa. In another, a piano with the top lifted. An elegantly dressed white haired lady, book open on her lap, leaning over to look at something that was being shown to her by a white haired man who sat on the carpet near her feet. He wore red shorts.
I like watching people: doing things, relating to each other, feeling feelings, living lives, being real. Throwing tantrums, losing tempers, letting go, giving in, failing, succeeding, laughing at little attempts: to soar, or sometimes, just float. Maybe even shadows are images; ghosts, people; solitude, company; silence, meaningful; failure, an endeavour; zero, a number and a colour black.
The week that flew before I had noticed, or slid by cz it was very wet, with a major storm today. I've been thinking of a lot of things, but thats for another time.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
Two houses down, a cool, elegant sitting room. In the corner, a dark blue sofa. In another, a piano with the top lifted. An elegantly dressed white haired lady, book open on her lap, leaning over to look at something that was being shown to her by a white haired man who sat on the carpet near her feet. He wore red shorts.
I like watching people: doing things, relating to each other, feeling feelings, living lives, being real. Throwing tantrums, losing tempers, letting go, giving in, failing, succeeding, laughing at little attempts: to soar, or sometimes, just float. Maybe even shadows are images; ghosts, people; solitude, company; silence, meaningful; failure, an endeavour; zero, a number and a colour black.
The week that flew before I had noticed, or slid by cz it was very wet, with a major storm today. I've been thinking of a lot of things, but thats for another time.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
Gone
i grew up
like a house of cards
tall, hollow, fragile
u werethe base below me
i grew up like poison weed
nourished by the wind
and the tear of the night, the morning dew
u were the soil below me
the flood which took away the soil
The winds which flew with the base
Left me whole
but adrift
like a house of cards
tall, hollow, fragile
u werethe base below me
i grew up like poison weed
nourished by the wind
and the tear of the night, the morning dew
u were the soil below me
the flood which took away the soil
The winds which flew with the base
Left me whole
but adrift
old-age wasteland
the rolls on
unrelieved
no flowers grow here
no life lives here
once the sun shone,
now she has dried up.
once the rain fell,
now he is dead.
smoke rises from the ground.
the sky rains fire down.
every face is unfound
every friend turns around
a melted corpse of decaying meat
a fading, pulsing, crying beat
reach out a hand
fingers touch a rotting mass
and the corpse will throw u to the ground
grinning skeletons wil dance around
mad ritual dances
inverted romances
crazy shadows in ur brain
stupid cut, bled, ribboned & dried
in the ghost of the long dead sun
alone and on the run
love: a lie
faith: a trick
hope: a joke
dreams: satire
i'll be there, always.
i'll never do anything that hurts, ever.
not empty words,
the demon's tricks, in reverse.
dirty verse
hidden barbs
ridicules
and pointed words
crazily grinning
spears shining
the demon dances
over my defeated dream.
unrelieved
no flowers grow here
no life lives here
once the sun shone,
now she has dried up.
once the rain fell,
now he is dead.
smoke rises from the ground.
the sky rains fire down.
every face is unfound
every friend turns around
a melted corpse of decaying meat
a fading, pulsing, crying beat
reach out a hand
fingers touch a rotting mass
and the corpse will throw u to the ground
grinning skeletons wil dance around
mad ritual dances
inverted romances
crazy shadows in ur brain
stupid cut, bled, ribboned & dried
in the ghost of the long dead sun
alone and on the run
love: a lie
faith: a trick
hope: a joke
dreams: satire
i'll be there, always.
i'll never do anything that hurts, ever.
not empty words,
the demon's tricks, in reverse.
dirty verse
hidden barbs
ridicules
and pointed words
crazily grinning
spears shining
the demon dances
over my defeated dream.
Glimmerman
somewhere in ur murky depths
lies a shadow i once fell in love with
somewhere in ur abuses
theres a voice that i once loved
somewhere behind ur eyes that glow with hate
theres a look i had once dreamed abt
the one i loved
or wanted to
gentle quivering amazing
awesome, tall, shining
glimmering
vanishing
lies a shadow i once fell in love with
somewhere in ur abuses
theres a voice that i once loved
somewhere behind ur eyes that glow with hate
theres a look i had once dreamed abt
the one i loved
or wanted to
gentle quivering amazing
awesome, tall, shining
glimmering
vanishing
for the living
theres much to be said yet
and much to be done
much to be mended
lot to be won
then why do you say, again and again
theres nothing left to live for
everyday, every breath,
every morning, every star
the sun the moon the stars
birdsong, rain fall, cool winds, hot sun
flowers, smells, smiles
and more than all that friends and lovers
so much left to live for
dont throw urself away
dont throw ur life away
how do i reach you?
how can I talk to you?
how penetrate through
ur walls
u lie on my doorstep
in ur drug induced coma
ur smoking ur life away
ur hallucinating in purple
how do i reach you
how pull u back
i wish i could tell u
theres still so much to live for
they r not worth it
there's so many orphans
u can pull urself out of their muck
run away my caterpillar
fly away butterfly
spread ur mangled, tiny wings
fly away without a trace
dissapear in ur purple haze
and much to be done
much to be mended
lot to be won
then why do you say, again and again
theres nothing left to live for
everyday, every breath,
every morning, every star
the sun the moon the stars
birdsong, rain fall, cool winds, hot sun
flowers, smells, smiles
and more than all that friends and lovers
so much left to live for
dont throw urself away
dont throw ur life away
how do i reach you?
how can I talk to you?
how penetrate through
ur walls
u lie on my doorstep
in ur drug induced coma
ur smoking ur life away
ur hallucinating in purple
how do i reach you
how pull u back
i wish i could tell u
theres still so much to live for
they r not worth it
there's so many orphans
u can pull urself out of their muck
run away my caterpillar
fly away butterfly
spread ur mangled, tiny wings
fly away without a trace
dissapear in ur purple haze
Like Repels
He was bored. It was his study hour. His father had locked him in the library, till he could say that he had finished his homework. He stared out of the window for a while, but soon grew bored with that. He stared around at the high walls covered with books, making the room look like it was dressed in brown and maroon leather, and it depressed him all the more. Giving up, he crashed himself sulkily into the chair at his appointed desk, and wondered what he could do to entertain himself, without incurring his fathers wrath any more than he already had. At one corner of the desk he found two magnets. The magnets looked big and powerful and important. first he played with the magnets and a lot of little pins lying around, making each magnet pull pins and then peeling the pins off. soon he was bored with that. then he brought the two magnets together. they kept pushing eachother apart. first this one then that. first this way then that. yet when he pushed them together he got a funny wobbly connecting feeling between them run through to his hands. this was fun. he kept pushing them together but he couldnt make them meet. first he was challenged and intrigued by the problem. after a while he got irritated and angry at its sullen and continuous impetinence in refusing to be resolved. Finally he got fed up with the whole thing and threw both the magnets away. They hit the corner of the desk and feel to the floor broken.
The Child
This morning i met a child. he tugged at my skirt and drew my attention. paradoxically, shy and commanding at the same time. i was touched. i was moved. he was so sweet, almost ephemereal. i bent down to his level, to smile and say hello. the next thing i knew he'd shot up to the sky. towering. a hero. six feet (1) tall. before i had time to be surprised i was struck by awe. he was so beautiful. so different. so familiar. was he a distilled reflection of all the best parts of myself? or an angel from the above?. then before my eyes he changed again and became a monster. dark clouds. ugly rotten insides. putrid smelling dwarfed thoughts. ugly. petty. underdeveloped thoughts. collapsed reason. mayhem. madness. blindness. who was he? was he so different. so familiar. was he a distilled reflection of all the best parts of myself? or an angel from the dark?
The Bogeyman
I had a child. after she came home from school, i gave her lunch and put her to sleep. i tucked her up under her favourite fluffy blanket, put her to sleep. I had lots of work. It had to be done right then. Urgent, important grown up work. She was fast asleep. She was a deep sleeper. She would be safe here, I told myself, and went to the study to do my grownup work. The bogeyman came by that afternoon. He passed by the window, next to which her bed lay. He had balloons, of many colours, round, shining. And flowers. And chocolate. And he smiled at her and talked of many things. Fairies, clouds, stars, people, the world, love, loss and rain. All the things that fascinated my little girl. She must have stared at him in wide eyed wonder. She must have cried a little to think of all the waste. She must have stopped and shut her eyes every now and then. She must have taken reality checks. She must have called out to me ... but I had been too busy to here her call. The bogeyman put a spell on her. She must have slipped out, somehow, through the grill that gaurded the window, inspite of everything I had done to keep her safely in. I was still in the study when I heard her cries. He made her come out and left her crying on the sidewalk. She stood there in the afternoon sun. bawling like the idiot she was. Crying because he was gone. She had thought he'd take her sailing on a cloud. They would float above the skies. Drop handfuls of rain on people below. Paint sunshine in the skies. Laugh thunder in the night. Was it typical of my role that at that moment anger battled sympathy? fear battled love? How do you take care of a child? How do you bring up someone right? How do you teach a wild, crazy, dreaming idiot ... the difference between right and wrong, the important things in life, the ways of the world, self respect, survival. its hard. its very hard. and it will get harder as time goes on.
55 Words (Disclaimer: Tagged)
Was tagged into this by Parna, so here goes, in my bungling (55) words:
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/55-words-disclaimer-tagged.html
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
"He was excited: this was a break-through in his field. He'd be a national hero. The phone-calls started coming: newspapers, journals. A loud ringing sounded. A man in grey approached and put a peremptory hand on his shoulder. He frowned at the gaurd; then sighing, followed. Inmates of the assylum werent allowed outside after dark."
"The child kept crying; could she sense that her doting Papa would never return? She rocked it gently and thought: her love, would never come home again. Far away, the man sighed as the black mask was pulled on. His lawyer had fought hard, but they still gave the death penalty for child rape."
She glowed with excitement. She was going to meet him! She had to be careful: if someone from her family saw her, there might be trouble. She had waited a long time, believing there was someone, somewhere made just for her, and now she had found him. She met him on her birthday: her 60th.
"Unlike her home, this place had everything she might need. A smiling face bent down: her new Mummy. She swallowed her fears and smiled back. She missed her Ma's soft wrinkly face. She had to forget Her and love these people now. Ma had explained everything carefully after the accident they had both died in."
Now i have tag a couple of people ... dont kill me: looking forward to reading what u will come up with (not to mention, would like to spread the pain ;@))
Vie
Austere
Anumita
Belzeebub
Peg
Ash
Maddie
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/55-words-disclaimer-tagged.html
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/friday-blues-indigo-skies.html
new channel on new scientist
Memory-altering drugs may rewrite your past - Instant Expert: The Human Brain
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Originally Posted at Prerona.
Letters to that boy
do u ever feel totally lost and confused
as to kya kar na chaahiye - kis disha mein chalna chaahiye
i mean kaam ke baare mein
and u wish ki koi hota jo humse bara hota aur samajhdaar hota
and we could trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to you
then u could tell them ur doubts and take their advice
maybe I'm just talking about Faith :)
u asked me the 1st time we spoke if i have anyone to talk to
i said no
i know it probably sounded like i have no close friends ... but its not that
my life is crowded with people
who love me - but cant say why - or give gaurantees - or live upto them
and with people also that i love, or am very fond of - but cant lean on, even a little bit
cz i dont trust them enough ... and when i say i dont trust them i mean that
trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to me
i mean kaam ke baare mein
and u wish ki koi hota jo humse bara hota aur samajhdaar hota
and we could trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to you
then u could tell them ur doubts and take their advice
maybe I'm just talking about Faith :)
u asked me the 1st time we spoke if i have anyone to talk to
i said no
i know it probably sounded like i have no close friends ... but its not that
my life is crowded with people
who love me - but cant say why - or give gaurantees - or live upto them
and with people also that i love, or am very fond of - but cant lean on, even a little bit
cz i dont trust them enough ... and when i say i dont trust them i mean that
trust both their being more samajhdhaar than you
and their commitment to me
Random Notes
Its just idea's that we long for - inverted ghosts: shadows of the future,
or of our dreams, our imaginings. or echoes and footprints of past.
of lives lived. things felt.
we look back, and dream forward, from here, where we are frozen ...
we look at each others mourning and marvel at the diff sounds of
our cries and diff shapes of our tears ... but in the end theres
only one fact that remains ... death the lowest common denominator
and an end: of all that was and could have been, of all we were and
could have been, and wont be, nay, will not allow
ourselves to be, ever, ever again.
i'm sorry. i guess i'm just a nasty and cranky and vitriolic.
like a bitter old man who's been a gatekeeper at the further
outpost of the fortress walls for way to long ... strong,
lonely and frozen
Is it really (like being inside my thoughts), I wonder ;@)
u should always remember that u never know what another persons
thoughts are. u just see what they show u and that might
have nothing to do with what they are or are thinking :)
Remember my comment on one of ur recent posts to this effect?
we talk in riddles and hyperboles. its like we are all sitting
in a pressure cooker. u dont want to let out everything thats inside.
u let out little wisps of steam now and then. u were thinking of
something then, it caused u to write something, but not eactly what
u were thinking. and reading that i inferred, guessed at,
something, which again might be something entirely diff.
moral of the story: we can never be inside anyone's head ... thank god.
aaj chokh chhol chhol
mon tao durbol
shimaana haariye gechhe
poth phuriye gechhe
baari pherar poth,
aaj nirjon.
baari but baar shei baari khaali.
shob dhuloye dhoshiye gechhe!
reading, writing, music, people, texas, uk, kolkata, silence,
contrasts, confusion, contradiction, diction, cognition, the brain, psychology, philosophy, sociology etymology, ai, systems programming, networking, mainframes, history, literature, history of literature, movies, humour, satire, meanings, invasive question games, thought, devil's advocacy, curmudgeonliness, pessimism, ennui, ego, pride, power, love, sorrow, depression, narcisissm, pain
Empire art Kolkata invasive question games silence thought experiments devil's advocacy Curmudgeonliness, Pessimism, Ennui
people life texas kolkata silence contrasts contradiction cognition psychology philosophy systems programming history literature meanings bloviation
i think its always the person own choice ... yet we hve to be prepared to take consequences for our choices ... sometimes thats hard. specially cz payday is usually so long delayed ... ur a diff person by then and so u sometimes
feel like ur paying for what someone else chose, bought and consumed. now theres nothing left - the person, the purchase ... just you and the bills
This is another concept I have struggled with for a long time ... dont shoot me, just saying what I have wondered ... if you love him and he loves you and if you're so good together, does it matter if he is unfaithful ... I mean there will be something wrong with everyone right ... they say no one is perfect
and everyone will have some fault ... the fatal flaw, though
all else might be perfect
i know where the problems are. i know, almost, what the problems are. but i dont know how to fix them. i know what i want eventually, but i dont know how to get there. it seems so far away ... a trembling leap across an awning chasm and the clock ticking behind you.
someone asked me to clarify these and it set me wondering. These are the type of things I am always weaving neatly into elaborately circumlocuted lectures and parables. With a little sister ten yrs your junior, you learn to 'lecture' with panache (a bottle-ful of sugar). Today, got totally confused!
I think the "do as I say not as I do" policy was better!
how do you "be friendly" without "being friends"
how do you keep "what you feel like" and "what you
want" clearly seperate in your head
"my greatest lovesprings from my greatest hate" anais nin
of all the people i like, if they get to friendly with u i hate them for it. if they hate u, i hate them for it. so the only way i can survive is to keep the two worlds scruplously apart. but ur in me, my love. i carry u, inside, wherever i go. every love, passion, friendship, relationship ... fades before the intensity of my hate for u. is it love. is it hate, i dont know. at 10 yrs of age, ur too young to decide. after that u dont dare to know. to look. to think. i hate u.
of lives lived. things felt.
we look back, and dream forward, from here, where we are frozen ...
we look at each others mourning and marvel at the diff sounds of
our cries and diff shapes of our tears ... but in the end theres
only one fact that remains ... death the lowest common denominator
and an end: of all that was and could have been, of all we were and
could have been, and wont be, nay, will not allow
ourselves to be, ever, ever again.
i'm sorry. i guess i'm just a nasty and cranky and vitriolic.
like a bitter old man who's been a gatekeeper at the further
outpost of the fortress walls for way to long ... strong,
lonely and frozen
Is it really (like being inside my thoughts), I wonder ;@)
u should always remember that u never know what another persons
thoughts are. u just see what they show u and that might
have nothing to do with what they are or are thinking :)
Remember my comment on one of ur recent posts to this effect?
we talk in riddles and hyperboles. its like we are all sitting
in a pressure cooker. u dont want to let out everything thats inside.
u let out little wisps of steam now and then. u were thinking of
something then, it caused u to write something, but not eactly what
u were thinking. and reading that i inferred, guessed at,
something, which again might be something entirely diff.
moral of the story: we can never be inside anyone's head ... thank god.
aaj chokh chhol chhol
mon tao durbol
shimaana haariye gechhe
poth phuriye gechhe
baari pherar poth,
aaj nirjon.
baari but baar shei baari khaali.
shob dhuloye dhoshiye gechhe!
reading, writing, music, people, texas, uk, kolkata, silence,
contrasts, confusion, contradiction, diction, cognition, the brain, psychology, philosophy, sociology etymology, ai, systems programming, networking, mainframes, history, literature, history of literature, movies, humour, satire, meanings, invasive question games, thought, devil's advocacy, curmudgeonliness, pessimism, ennui, ego, pride, power, love, sorrow, depression, narcisissm, pain
Empire art Kolkata invasive question games silence thought experiments devil's advocacy Curmudgeonliness, Pessimism, Ennui
people life texas kolkata silence contrasts contradiction cognition psychology philosophy systems programming history literature meanings bloviation
i think its always the person own choice ... yet we hve to be prepared to take consequences for our choices ... sometimes thats hard. specially cz payday is usually so long delayed ... ur a diff person by then and so u sometimes
feel like ur paying for what someone else chose, bought and consumed. now theres nothing left - the person, the purchase ... just you and the bills
This is another concept I have struggled with for a long time ... dont shoot me, just saying what I have wondered ... if you love him and he loves you and if you're so good together, does it matter if he is unfaithful ... I mean there will be something wrong with everyone right ... they say no one is perfect
and everyone will have some fault ... the fatal flaw, though
all else might be perfect
i know where the problems are. i know, almost, what the problems are. but i dont know how to fix them. i know what i want eventually, but i dont know how to get there. it seems so far away ... a trembling leap across an awning chasm and the clock ticking behind you.
someone asked me to clarify these and it set me wondering. These are the type of things I am always weaving neatly into elaborately circumlocuted lectures and parables. With a little sister ten yrs your junior, you learn to 'lecture' with panache (a bottle-ful of sugar). Today, got totally confused!
I think the "do as I say not as I do" policy was better!
how do you "be friendly" without "being friends"
how do you keep "what you feel like" and "what you
want" clearly seperate in your head
"my greatest lovesprings from my greatest hate" anais nin
of all the people i like, if they get to friendly with u i hate them for it. if they hate u, i hate them for it. so the only way i can survive is to keep the two worlds scruplously apart. but ur in me, my love. i carry u, inside, wherever i go. every love, passion, friendship, relationship ... fades before the intensity of my hate for u. is it love. is it hate, i dont know. at 10 yrs of age, ur too young to decide. after that u dont dare to know. to look. to think. i hate u.
if i was untrue, hope u knew, it was never to you
week after week flashes by. nothing to say, really. nothing that hasnt been said already. the things that need telling, i dont know how to tell, or indeed, if i should, or ever could. how to find the words? the heart? the courage? dil mein taqat, jigaar mein haal kahaan?
anyway, shifting to another gear, i felt a little bad abt the press release by R where he said 'they obviously knew who was the best' and narry a mention of the other 4 companies the contract was jointly awarded to, but then maybe it doesnt matter.
The bull is apparently running like never before and even i am making some :)
No football this friday. No rowing this weekend. No invites. No friends. No phone calls. Just me and Java. Need to start studying. Honest - this is pathetic! Its steppenwolf's fault, cz he has me in his grip - major distraction.
In the blog world, another one bites the dust, another old blog friend closes down his blog. Reasons are familiar. Vie, ur a wise one. The thing is, the min something is written by someone u know, someone who is a friend, the reader reacts to it like its a friend telling u something abt their lives. ie, they look for the person in the prose. which is something which will invariably frustrate the writer if he is not concerned with his person-ality but rather with his prose ... ummm ... bah! i got lost somewhere there. Maybe its the same with real writers as well, bcz i remember having once read some cribbing to the effect in immortality (kundera)
I was browsing through the old blog and came across my first post ... the way we were! And life goes on; in endless circles; drunkenly overlapping and overrunning eachother. it takes a lot, i sometimes feel, to stay faithful ... to ur dream, to ur self, to life. to stay, true to life. Song in my head ...
By now, I have worked in 3 continents and in 4 offices and this is my fav amongst all my work environments. Just for the simple little traditions they have which make things a little bit cosier. Also, the dreaded C word is not such a dirty word here. or maybe i should say 'yet'. No horsing around apart, i like the people here. Theres something very sweet and warm and even genuine abt them
Outside, its fall again: my favourite time of the year. The tree's begin to blush again. The roads are littered with discarded leaves. maple leaves? another one for the series? :) i go to a bench behind the office to eat my lunch. as i munch through my lunch, i watch a leave swirl and dance lazily down to the grass. if i asked you, as u stand tall, swaying gracefully in the wind, why did you pick this leaf to discard, would you answer me, or stare at me with doe-caught-in-the-headlight eyes? later, as i walk back to the office, i saw a little bird lying on its back on the sidewalk. it was white and blue and grey and very beautiful. it was obviously still alive, but each time i tried to go near it, to see if i could help, it would scratch out with its claws. maybe it could sense that the end was near and was saving me the trouble? Song in my head ...
Come September, its that time of the year when i miss cal the most of all ... pujo? Nyet! founders day. the joys of going back to school and getting sloshed on sponsored booze along with ur gods of yesterday ... priceless. Some people never got over 'Nam or the night their band opened for Nirvana. 'Someone' never really got over Charlie. Most Martinians, I think, never get over School.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-i-was-untrue-hope-u-knew-it-was.html
anyway, shifting to another gear, i felt a little bad abt the press release by R where he said 'they obviously knew who was the best' and narry a mention of the other 4 companies the contract was jointly awarded to, but then maybe it doesnt matter.
The bull is apparently running like never before and even i am making some :)
No football this friday. No rowing this weekend. No invites. No friends. No phone calls. Just me and Java. Need to start studying. Honest - this is pathetic! Its steppenwolf's fault, cz he has me in his grip - major distraction.
In the blog world, another one bites the dust, another old blog friend closes down his blog. Reasons are familiar. Vie, ur a wise one. The thing is, the min something is written by someone u know, someone who is a friend, the reader reacts to it like its a friend telling u something abt their lives. ie, they look for the person in the prose. which is something which will invariably frustrate the writer if he is not concerned with his person-ality but rather with his prose ... ummm ... bah! i got lost somewhere there. Maybe its the same with real writers as well, bcz i remember having once read some cribbing to the effect in immortality (kundera)
I was browsing through the old blog and came across my first post ... the way we were! And life goes on; in endless circles; drunkenly overlapping and overrunning eachother. it takes a lot, i sometimes feel, to stay faithful ... to ur dream, to ur self, to life. to stay, true to life. Song in my head ...
By now, I have worked in 3 continents and in 4 offices and this is my fav amongst all my work environments. Just for the simple little traditions they have which make things a little bit cosier. Also, the dreaded C word is not such a dirty word here. or maybe i should say 'yet'. No horsing around apart, i like the people here. Theres something very sweet and warm and even genuine abt them
Outside, its fall again: my favourite time of the year. The tree's begin to blush again. The roads are littered with discarded leaves. maple leaves? another one for the series? :) i go to a bench behind the office to eat my lunch. as i munch through my lunch, i watch a leave swirl and dance lazily down to the grass. if i asked you, as u stand tall, swaying gracefully in the wind, why did you pick this leaf to discard, would you answer me, or stare at me with doe-caught-in-the-headlight eyes? later, as i walk back to the office, i saw a little bird lying on its back on the sidewalk. it was white and blue and grey and very beautiful. it was obviously still alive, but each time i tried to go near it, to see if i could help, it would scratch out with its claws. maybe it could sense that the end was near and was saving me the trouble? Song in my head ...
Come September, its that time of the year when i miss cal the most of all ... pujo? Nyet! founders day. the joys of going back to school and getting sloshed on sponsored booze along with ur gods of yesterday ... priceless. Some people never got over 'Nam or the night their band opened for Nirvana. 'Someone' never really got over Charlie. Most Martinians, I think, never get over School.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/if-i-was-untrue-hope-u-knew-it-was.html
My Dear Phantom
betrayed
discarded
thrown away
little baby
pls dont cry
princess in the garbage bag
everybody's angel turned to rags
thrown away
taken home
thrown away
taken home
little baby pls dont cry
one day,
u'll sing urself lullabies
round and round
time after time
the bells ring out from the distance
echo
shivers through the cold air
and the rides the waves of time
falling on my skin
like the cold clammy clinging fingers
of the wet caress, of a fast rotting corpse
apologies ...
for the sordid pitures!
but i'm tired of apologising.
sorry if i scared u,
im so glad i hurt u.
maybe now
u'll know how it feels
and im sorry i took it away
what i had once lent you
see how emptiness feels.
theres a crow in the parlour
glossy, black and fat
its crying out all day and night
glossy wings v laid back
all lay down and get ready to die
all lie down you'll love to die
no time to cry
the dance is over
no time to sigh
the song is over
the game is done
for this round
the sun has burned itself to dust
theres just a battlefield, in the cold and dark
littered bodies on the ground
rotting bodies all around
whenever i reached out to look for u
my hand met a decaying i love u
no more games
or i love yous
no more trials
no more searches
time to give up the eternal search
time to lay down and say goodbye
watch hope fly
away in the sky
discarded
thrown away
little baby
pls dont cry
princess in the garbage bag
everybody's angel turned to rags
thrown away
taken home
thrown away
taken home
little baby pls dont cry
one day,
u'll sing urself lullabies
round and round
time after time
the bells ring out from the distance
echo
shivers through the cold air
and the rides the waves of time
falling on my skin
like the cold clammy clinging fingers
of the wet caress, of a fast rotting corpse
apologies ...
for the sordid pitures!
but i'm tired of apologising.
sorry if i scared u,
im so glad i hurt u.
maybe now
u'll know how it feels
and im sorry i took it away
what i had once lent you
see how emptiness feels.
theres a crow in the parlour
glossy, black and fat
its crying out all day and night
glossy wings v laid back
all lay down and get ready to die
all lie down you'll love to die
no time to cry
the dance is over
no time to sigh
the song is over
the game is done
for this round
the sun has burned itself to dust
theres just a battlefield, in the cold and dark
littered bodies on the ground
rotting bodies all around
whenever i reached out to look for u
my hand met a decaying i love u
no more games
or i love yous
no more trials
no more searches
time to give up the eternal search
time to lay down and say goodbye
watch hope fly
away in the sky
Orient Express at SPE
Stumbled upon this looking for the author of a interestingly written review! Quite the same way as I'd stumbled into Pico Iyer a long time ago, but thats another story. The Orient Express used (probably still does) play at Someplace Else (SPE) in Calcutta. At a time when good live music was at a premium in Cal. Loads of memories. SPE, ofcourse, have written enough abt it already in older posts, and Orient Express.
I read this today - Guess who's the likeliest candidate!!!
Quite out-of-words, specially after the immense comment i left on a certain persons blog - which was almost as long as most posts i've written. yikes - maybe he will ban me in future!
Why do I like him? I'm sure I dont know. Maybe its just my villain-of-the-moment-philia :)
Couldnt sleep last night - which means that I was starving all day today. Whats the connection? I dunno. Its always like that for me. Tried to sleep till 0100, then gave up and went for a walk. Why does the world feel so different at night? Went to the river, its very near my house. It sounds nice. Standing at the bridge, looking down. Added benefit: In the dark you cant see how dirty it is :) And I thought about how long it was since I have done that. Not bothering to go to bed on a weeknight. eating choc cake in the middle of the week. Come so far, barely noticed, from the old days. When did I become so conventional, so grown-up, so practical, so scared? The just right before dawn brings so many memories ... but the strongest and first is always Barbie. Most days around five she'd still be in her room painting. By around then we'd have our fill of our solitary and reach out. All night chats. Sense & Sensibilty, Siddharta, Hi-Fid, does the cat really love us, do you want to steal some choc cake. Miss you so much little one.
Was left speechless by someones thoughts. So much belief, faith. So honest. So clean. So simple. Why you like this little one? And u've lived even more years ... does it get better, then? Or is it just 'you'
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/orient-express-at-spe.html
I read this today - Guess who's the likeliest candidate!!!
Quite out-of-words, specially after the immense comment i left on a certain persons blog - which was almost as long as most posts i've written. yikes - maybe he will ban me in future!
Why do I like him? I'm sure I dont know. Maybe its just my villain-of-the-moment-philia :)
Couldnt sleep last night - which means that I was starving all day today. Whats the connection? I dunno. Its always like that for me. Tried to sleep till 0100, then gave up and went for a walk. Why does the world feel so different at night? Went to the river, its very near my house. It sounds nice. Standing at the bridge, looking down. Added benefit: In the dark you cant see how dirty it is :) And I thought about how long it was since I have done that. Not bothering to go to bed on a weeknight. eating choc cake in the middle of the week. Come so far, barely noticed, from the old days. When did I become so conventional, so grown-up, so practical, so scared? The just right before dawn brings so many memories ... but the strongest and first is always Barbie. Most days around five she'd still be in her room painting. By around then we'd have our fill of our solitary and reach out. All night chats. Sense & Sensibilty, Siddharta, Hi-Fid, does the cat really love us, do you want to steal some choc cake. Miss you so much little one.
Was left speechless by someones thoughts. So much belief, faith. So honest. So clean. So simple. Why you like this little one? And u've lived even more years ... does it get better, then? Or is it just 'you'
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/09/orient-express-at-spe.html
Dhhuya
shabdo mein kya bayaan kare
sannata kaise goongta hai
kissi ko kya bataye
laashe kaise jeetee hain
na umeed ya asha
na roshni ki chahat ho
jo ghar kabhi basa nehi
uska kaisa chiraag ho
barsaat mein, toofan mein
jo deep jalaaya
roshni ki kadar na thee
toh dhaage ko kyun jalaya
bedard, bedil,
bewafa, aap kahaan?
kaafir toh hum the
jo has ke gum le na sake
hum to subha se hi
badnaam, be-jaat, be-imaan the
phir bhi kuchh the,
tere baad kuchh na rahe
bahut dur jali aag
bahut paas utha dhuuya
bahut dur jali chita
bahut paas koi jala
jab se hosh tha, bas tera bharosa tha
jab se hosh tha, tera bharosa tha
sharam se aaj sir jhuka ke
tere baad bhi hosh bacha hain
sannata kaise goongta hai
kissi ko kya bataye
laashe kaise jeetee hain
na umeed ya asha
na roshni ki chahat ho
jo ghar kabhi basa nehi
uska kaisa chiraag ho
barsaat mein, toofan mein
jo deep jalaaya
roshni ki kadar na thee
toh dhaage ko kyun jalaya
bedard, bedil,
bewafa, aap kahaan?
kaafir toh hum the
jo has ke gum le na sake
hum to subha se hi
badnaam, be-jaat, be-imaan the
phir bhi kuchh the,
tere baad kuchh na rahe
bahut dur jali aag
bahut paas utha dhuuya
bahut dur jali chita
bahut paas koi jala
jab se hosh tha, bas tera bharosa tha
jab se hosh tha, tera bharosa tha
sharam se aaj sir jhuka ke
tere baad bhi hosh bacha hain
Face in the mirror
standing,
in knee deep clutter
of broken pieces of
the face in the mirror
the parts,
that the image of myself
has separated into,
falling,
have jagged edges that cut
scattered junk crappy poetry
and still born prose
while the sun starts to begin to start to set on my days
im still frozen, like a deer in the headlights
and u flew dancing by
gaily coloured carousel
father son holy friend
burned my eyes to watch u gaily spin
achingly, bleedingly
ringing wind in hollow walls of my heart
so runs through my head screeching ... the fatal desire
to let go and fall
look over the ledge
shaking hands, grip the edge
on and on the voices run
let go. hang on
in knee deep clutter
of broken pieces of
the face in the mirror
the parts,
that the image of myself
has separated into,
falling,
have jagged edges that cut
scattered junk crappy poetry
and still born prose
while the sun starts to begin to start to set on my days
im still frozen, like a deer in the headlights
and u flew dancing by
gaily coloured carousel
father son holy friend
burned my eyes to watch u gaily spin
achingly, bleedingly
ringing wind in hollow walls of my heart
so runs through my head screeching ... the fatal desire
to let go and fall
look over the ledge
shaking hands, grip the edge
on and on the voices run
let go. hang on
just then, the phone rang. didnt have the nerve
funny! since monday i've been looking for "the post i wrote after watching frieda" ... found this and also, this, but neither said what i was looking for. Theres a weird thing that either happens to me or i imagine happening to me, often-times. I'm not sure how to describe it but its something like at times after I've been thinking about something, quite a while, i 'bump into' a movie, or a book or even a song or person, which seems to suggest an answer, an insight, or is just like meeting someone else who was wondering too. bah! cant explain. but felt like that this weekend watching Salvatore Cascio in Cinema Paradiso. at work, a pat on the back! however tiny ... been a long time & feels so good. the heads races season and our club has a race planned! Classes start again next week. Atlast, the month has ended and I can eat again - days of broke-dom ... bye bye! Mum AND Dad due to visit this month! Have a feeling it wont work out! Its a family tradition ... pre-planned trips somehow never work out. I remember this trip to Puri once where the junta (parents' friends) had come over for a general friday night meal and suddenly they decided to go to Puri and and were off before we (the kids) even figured out what was happening. Is it nice when ur being sweetly sarci and people dont even get it? They yell murder when ur not being sarci/cold/aloof but when u r they dont even get it ... thank god! Though I hate it when I've been sarci, leaves a bad taste. As does losing it and letting the all out. Then what to do? Must we always sweep every feeling under the carpet? I dunno; but its pretty pointless if you cant 'explain' it, at the end of the day; by explain, i guess, i mean succesfully getting the point (and the point behind the point); but perhaps, you dont have to explain everything to everyone, or even, anything to anyone; as long as u understand. Updated my wishlist ... not that I'll have money to buy anything for a while, but whats the harm in wishing ... Have just flipped over the all new 'skillport' ... there's consolations for being in the top 10 by 10 lane - it has the complete complete reference (Schildt) online ... Im happy :)
Originally posted @
http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/just-then-phone-rang-didnt-have-nerve.html
Originally posted @
http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/just-then-phone-rang-didnt-have-nerve.html
Akela
na shikwa hai
na gila hain
na aur kuchh kehna hain
na aur kuchh sunna hain
andheri raat mein gunjti huyi
bas ek akeli siski hain
na zarurat hain
na tamanna hain
na koi yahaan dost hain
na koi kahin apna hain
dil aaj bas ek khaali makaan ka
toota hua saaya hai
peechhe koi saaya
na waqt ki koi parchhayi hai
na aage koi raah
ya dur koi manzil hai
bas ek pal hai
bas usmein rakha ek kadam hai
na koi aur sapna hai
na koi aur chahat hai
jo jeena tha kal jee liya
bas rukna baaki hai
saanjh tak ruk na hai
raat se milna hain
na gila hain
na aur kuchh kehna hain
na aur kuchh sunna hain
andheri raat mein gunjti huyi
bas ek akeli siski hain
na zarurat hain
na tamanna hain
na koi yahaan dost hain
na koi kahin apna hain
dil aaj bas ek khaali makaan ka
toota hua saaya hai
peechhe koi saaya
na waqt ki koi parchhayi hai
na aage koi raah
ya dur koi manzil hai
bas ek pal hai
bas usmein rakha ek kadam hai
na koi aur sapna hai
na koi aur chahat hai
jo jeena tha kal jee liya
bas rukna baaki hai
saanjh tak ruk na hai
raat se milna hain
i wonder if they know ...
song of the day: knife. the old one. yeah - blast from the past.
very lazy weekend. the most vigorous exercise i got was from the bed to the sofa. well, almost! did go for a walk sometime late on saturday night. the stars hung low. the water gurgled after the rains. the roads were slick black stone.
ate some store bought curry on saturday night (lamb madras)
they called it hot.
listen to fireworks, at the festival. lying in bed, in dark room, if you close ur eyes and imagine with all ur might, u can remember calcutta thundering.
read last night eats, shoots and leaves and Carlyle's House the day before.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-wonder-if-they-know.html
very lazy weekend. the most vigorous exercise i got was from the bed to the sofa. well, almost! did go for a walk sometime late on saturday night. the stars hung low. the water gurgled after the rains. the roads were slick black stone.
ate some store bought curry on saturday night (lamb madras)
they called it hot.
listen to fireworks, at the festival. lying in bed, in dark room, if you close ur eyes and imagine with all ur might, u can remember calcutta thundering.
read last night eats, shoots and leaves and Carlyle's House the day before.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-wonder-if-they-know.html