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
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.