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
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
Losing
at times it builds up gradually
starting with a slow spreading helplessness
then catching to fast spreading burning rage
you are trying very hard to ignore it,
but its like a snarling dog,
that you have dragged away with
a heavy iron chain round the neck
to the bedroom, at the back of the house.
you have locked him in, for now.
but slowly his barking, his demonic teeth gnashing,
his horrible cursing howls,
seep out through the crack under the door
and attack your ears, grate ur nerves,
threaten ur sanity, ur life, ur whole being,
and worst of all, ur focus on this moment, on behaving,
like nothing is happening.
sometimes it comes like a kick in the gut
in the centre of your stomach
where your its softest,
and gentlest.
sudden. sharp. hard.
so that someone seeing you from the outside
doesnt see any blood at all.
sudenly you just double up,
while they watch in innocent awe.
ur breath just goes
ur senses go
for a moment its like u were ducked under water
then it passes.
u hold still a while,
then go on again eyes still a little wet
but controlled, for all appearences
sometimes it comes,
like the fog comes down on sea salt,
and leaves you in a puddle, on the floor,
yeah - like in the james bond song.
its such a far away land
where people go to when they leave you
you want to run after them but the head start is too big
too clow to react, as usual
before i knew what was happening,
u were gone ...
the little lame boy
is left crying in the street
spoilt now, for town
for life, and for him
at other times theres no pain
just a emptyness
that i hope wont fade
i hold on
to every tear
desperately
the last traces of you
in my life
u dont love me anymore?
so they say ...
how do i belive you
how do i go on?
everything, poor substitute
like you'had once said
how do i ...
slate my hunger
with plain still water
what am i writing about?
how do i learn,
to live without you
where do i find
meaning in anything i do
or dont
when it was all for you
theres nothing left
that matters
everything the hold up
as sorry excuses, substitutes
so sorry
want to fling them to the floor
how dare someone hold themselves in ur place
and say live for me?
dont want to live for anyone
dont want to go on anymore
dont want to get past this blow
of losing you again
dont want to lose my grip
on the cutting sense of guilt
its the last trace of you i have
left now in my world
dont take the pain away
dont take the rage away
starting with a slow spreading helplessness
then catching to fast spreading burning rage
you are trying very hard to ignore it,
but its like a snarling dog,
that you have dragged away with
a heavy iron chain round the neck
to the bedroom, at the back of the house.
you have locked him in, for now.
but slowly his barking, his demonic teeth gnashing,
his horrible cursing howls,
seep out through the crack under the door
and attack your ears, grate ur nerves,
threaten ur sanity, ur life, ur whole being,
and worst of all, ur focus on this moment, on behaving,
like nothing is happening.
sometimes it comes like a kick in the gut
in the centre of your stomach
where your its softest,
and gentlest.
sudden. sharp. hard.
so that someone seeing you from the outside
doesnt see any blood at all.
sudenly you just double up,
while they watch in innocent awe.
ur breath just goes
ur senses go
for a moment its like u were ducked under water
then it passes.
u hold still a while,
then go on again eyes still a little wet
but controlled, for all appearences
sometimes it comes,
like the fog comes down on sea salt,
and leaves you in a puddle, on the floor,
yeah - like in the james bond song.
its such a far away land
where people go to when they leave you
you want to run after them but the head start is too big
too clow to react, as usual
before i knew what was happening,
u were gone ...
the little lame boy
is left crying in the street
spoilt now, for town
for life, and for him
at other times theres no pain
just a emptyness
that i hope wont fade
i hold on
to every tear
desperately
the last traces of you
in my life
u dont love me anymore?
so they say ...
how do i belive you
how do i go on?
everything, poor substitute
like you'had once said
how do i ...
slate my hunger
with plain still water
what am i writing about?
how do i learn,
to live without you
where do i find
meaning in anything i do
or dont
when it was all for you
theres nothing left
that matters
everything the hold up
as sorry excuses, substitutes
so sorry
want to fling them to the floor
how dare someone hold themselves in ur place
and say live for me?
dont want to live for anyone
dont want to go on anymore
dont want to get past this blow
of losing you again
dont want to lose my grip
on the cutting sense of guilt
its the last trace of you i have
left now in my world
dont take the pain away
dont take the rage away
under construction
dolly_8_8_2005.txt
it was four in the morning. he stood by the water, leaning on the side of his car. the crickets were just begining to break through the silence, taking over from the daytime noises. everything else was deserted and quiet. quite nearby an industrious spider spun busily away. there were a few drops of rain stuck on the web. they glistened in the moonlight. why had he never noticed how pretty they were. he'd just been paranoid of ever getting near them. he wasnt scared of the spiders but he felt some nameless paralysis at the mere thought of walking into a barely material curtain unawares and feeling it rest slowly on his face. dolly had always pulled his leg about it. daddy is scared of spiders. daddy's a scaredy paredey poo. the stupid silly things she used to say. all at once his mind froze on that thought and came to a halt. its strange how one part of ur brain starts a thought and suddenly, in a delayed response the rest of ur brain latches on. in that strange way, the whole of his mind registered that a part of his mind had used the past tense for the first time. he didnt feel anything. he wasnt the feeling sort. just a kind of clenching in his stomach. like something went all tight for a second and made him hold his breath. then it passesd. it wasnt hard to deal with this. all he needed was not to close his eyes and not to think and to be left alone so that he could do these things. he didnt want to forget. he didnt want to 'heal' - whatever that meant. he didnt want to be happy. he just wanted to be left alone. for now, atleast.
was he being unreasonable? overreacting? how much reaction is okay when your only daughter dies leaving u nothing really except a numbness, a feeling that nothing mattered.
he wasnt the only one in the world who had lost a child. he wasnt even the only one in the world who had lost this child. her mother, his parents, her parents, everyone loved dolly. everyone was saddened by her loss. they were being far more rational than him, he knew that. yes, he knew that. but somehow, it felt like his case was different from all the others. he 'knew' at some level that it wasnt really so, but still, it 'felt' that way. what was the difference? did he love her, sorry - had he loved her, more than they had? not really. perhaps the difference was that he had never loved anyone else. he had not been very human to begin with. she had melted some tiny corner of his heart - just enough to make room for her little little self. now that she was gone and that room was empty, and it felt like his numb, frozen heart would cave in a fall into itself, into the empty room. she had taught him to feel things but now that she was gone, he didnt know what to feel. he was in a no mans land. neither here nor there
he spent hours by himself in her empty room.
and he felt like he had just been hung out in the cold. he couldnt go back to what he was a nd feel nothing and he didnt know waht to feel either.
she had not been his reason excuse to live, she had been but a reason why he could not die, could not want to die
he thought now, while she had lived she had always blindly adored him. whatever her daddy could do no wrong. her daddy was her biggest hero. her daddy was above all things. beyond all things. better than everything. now that she was dead would she have found out everything about hikm, all his hidden sins, transgessions, mistakes. all the times he had fallen, had not been able to help himself, had cleaned up and come home to her later. shining in his daddy armour again? would she know? would she still love him? did she hate him now?
why hadnt he come home. he had known she was ill. her wife had called the station frantically about a doxen times. dolly is burning with fever. dolly is acting strange. come home. scome home come home. but he had kept putting it off. he hadnt taken it seriously. now he couldnt bear to look at his work. couldnt bear to walk into the little office. sit at the desk.
my love wasnt enough to keep you
nor my pain enough to bring you back
and neither my guilt enough to take me with u.
all iwant is darkness
all i want is sleep
backout
oblivion
all need is lethe
i have no right to mourn u
i didnt love u
enough to hold u
i didnt car
anough to be there
i have no rights
to anything
all i want
is a final exit
actually everything was beyongd repair now. his work, his marraige. with you, he thought, i have betrayed everything. when i turned away form you, my eyes burned the world down.
he was getting better, he supposed. everyday it got a little number where there was just raw pain before at first. everyday he lasted a little longer with out closing his eyes to see hier laughing mockingly at hiom. not his baby gentle laugh. a adult, sinister, cruel laugh. that seemed to say - who's sorry now.
without suddenly out of the blue efeeling her dead weight of her tiny, limp body in his arms gain. like a dead sparrow.
it was four in the morning. he stood by the water, leaning on the side of his car. the crickets were just begining to break through the silence, taking over from the daytime noises. everything else was deserted and quiet. quite nearby an industrious spider spun busily away. there were a few drops of rain stuck on the web. they glistened in the moonlight. why had he never noticed how pretty they were. he'd just been paranoid of ever getting near them. he wasnt scared of the spiders but he felt some nameless paralysis at the mere thought of walking into a barely material curtain unawares and feeling it rest slowly on his face. dolly had always pulled his leg about it. daddy is scared of spiders. daddy's a scaredy paredey poo. the stupid silly things she used to say. all at once his mind froze on that thought and came to a halt. its strange how one part of ur brain starts a thought and suddenly, in a delayed response the rest of ur brain latches on. in that strange way, the whole of his mind registered that a part of his mind had used the past tense for the first time. he didnt feel anything. he wasnt the feeling sort. just a kind of clenching in his stomach. like something went all tight for a second and made him hold his breath. then it passesd. it wasnt hard to deal with this. all he needed was not to close his eyes and not to think and to be left alone so that he could do these things. he didnt want to forget. he didnt want to 'heal' - whatever that meant. he didnt want to be happy. he just wanted to be left alone. for now, atleast.
was he being unreasonable? overreacting? how much reaction is okay when your only daughter dies leaving u nothing really except a numbness, a feeling that nothing mattered.
he wasnt the only one in the world who had lost a child. he wasnt even the only one in the world who had lost this child. her mother, his parents, her parents, everyone loved dolly. everyone was saddened by her loss. they were being far more rational than him, he knew that. yes, he knew that. but somehow, it felt like his case was different from all the others. he 'knew' at some level that it wasnt really so, but still, it 'felt' that way. what was the difference? did he love her, sorry - had he loved her, more than they had? not really. perhaps the difference was that he had never loved anyone else. he had not been very human to begin with. she had melted some tiny corner of his heart - just enough to make room for her little little self. now that she was gone and that room was empty, and it felt like his numb, frozen heart would cave in a fall into itself, into the empty room. she had taught him to feel things but now that she was gone, he didnt know what to feel. he was in a no mans land. neither here nor there
he spent hours by himself in her empty room.
and he felt like he had just been hung out in the cold. he couldnt go back to what he was a nd feel nothing and he didnt know waht to feel either.
she had not been his reason excuse to live, she had been but a reason why he could not die, could not want to die
he thought now, while she had lived she had always blindly adored him. whatever her daddy could do no wrong. her daddy was her biggest hero. her daddy was above all things. beyond all things. better than everything. now that she was dead would she have found out everything about hikm, all his hidden sins, transgessions, mistakes. all the times he had fallen, had not been able to help himself, had cleaned up and come home to her later. shining in his daddy armour again? would she know? would she still love him? did she hate him now?
why hadnt he come home. he had known she was ill. her wife had called the station frantically about a doxen times. dolly is burning with fever. dolly is acting strange. come home. scome home come home. but he had kept putting it off. he hadnt taken it seriously. now he couldnt bear to look at his work. couldnt bear to walk into the little office. sit at the desk.
my love wasnt enough to keep you
nor my pain enough to bring you back
and neither my guilt enough to take me with u.
all iwant is darkness
all i want is sleep
backout
oblivion
all need is lethe
i have no right to mourn u
i didnt love u
enough to hold u
i didnt car
anough to be there
i have no rights
to anything
all i want
is a final exit
actually everything was beyongd repair now. his work, his marraige. with you, he thought, i have betrayed everything. when i turned away form you, my eyes burned the world down.
he was getting better, he supposed. everyday it got a little number where there was just raw pain before at first. everyday he lasted a little longer with out closing his eyes to see hier laughing mockingly at hiom. not his baby gentle laugh. a adult, sinister, cruel laugh. that seemed to say - who's sorry now.
without suddenly out of the blue efeeling her dead weight of her tiny, limp body in his arms gain. like a dead sparrow.
Guess I'm going through Changes
trying out something here. the old blog has moved (back) to http://recerche.blogspot.com again :) bear with me ... gypsy feet. I dont know (my favourite sentence). I was kind of spring cleaning. Read a LOT of old posts. Felt surreal. Have you ever met people and then totally forgotten about them, and then suddenly bumped into some stored recollection of them in some dusty corner of you mind, while looking for something else? I found some old selves. Had I really been that excited about reading red tails in love a year or so back? that bitter after the appraisals a month or so back. Guess in some ways the way I am is so fleeting that i lose track of all the me's i pass through. Why the sudden change? What do you do when you get to the end? u start again, right? I feel like I've run out of words. Run out of things to say. Like we hope at times, that changing something outside will change something inside, Im hoping that changing the blog will change the words inside it. Having said all that, I might change my mind tomorrow. Change is such hard work.
Its beautiful weather here right now. Not too cold. Not too warm. It rains, but only at night. I sit on the floor, by the window and watch.
Finally saw Chokher Bali on Sunday. Also saw, in one sitting: Kaal, Dhoom, Dil Malamaal, Chokher Bali, Blue Velvet, Silkwood and a old Harry Potter. The problem with online rental in the UK is the stock is much less than netflix or something like that so, what usually happens is you have about 300 movies in queue and u dont think too much about the last 100 or so cz u it feels like forever before u'll get to them, but everything in the first lot is invariably out of stock and you get something totally unpredictable. Wanna buy HOURS, though. And Motorcycle Diaries
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/guess-im-going-through-changes.html
Its beautiful weather here right now. Not too cold. Not too warm. It rains, but only at night. I sit on the floor, by the window and watch.
Finally saw Chokher Bali on Sunday. Also saw, in one sitting: Kaal, Dhoom, Dil Malamaal, Chokher Bali, Blue Velvet, Silkwood and a old Harry Potter. The problem with online rental in the UK is the stock is much less than netflix or something like that so, what usually happens is you have about 300 movies in queue and u dont think too much about the last 100 or so cz u it feels like forever before u'll get to them, but everything in the first lot is invariably out of stock and you get something totally unpredictable. Wanna buy HOURS, though. And Motorcycle Diaries
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/guess-im-going-through-changes.html
Pretty Words
all i have is pretty words.
multi colored.
and i weave
kaleidoscopic pictures,
with wild fancies
and stray dreams,
or inconsequential wishes, and thoughts
of my silly heart
all i have is pretty words.
to paint pretty pictures,
or sing pretty songs of love or pain.
What i want is to make them fly,
and all i want is to see them soar,
and all i want is make them roar with everything they need to say
make something real out of them
make them into something real
for example,
if i could use my words
to tell u how i'm feeling,
this minute,
or how i wept, last night,
hidden behind the half closed bathroom door
spilled over on the tiles in the darkness
hiding from demons
that were waiting in the bedroom,
under the pillow,
to sneak into a war dance
as soon as i put my head down.
or i'd tell you how she haunts me
everytime i close my eyes.
i feel like an orphaned child,
with nothing left to live for anymore,
and a feeling,
that this feelings just gonna grow.
that i dont belong to anybody anymore,
that nobody belongs to me anymore.
or, for instance, if i had the words to tell u how,
my life feels lived and behind me now.
that for every thing of beauty,
that i see outside or find within me,
theres nobody left out there,
that i'd care to show it to.
or no one to come home to.
image to live up to.
nothing to look forward to.
noone to hold on to in the night.
no love that comes without a price.
but i dont know how to say these things.
i dont know how to say anything.
if i did i would then tell u
how i think i'm falling for you
the way i wait for u to call
why it hurts when my hopes fall
and i realise
it would be wise
not to risk so much,
or anything as such,
cz though my heart,
the codeless gypsy,
the wild wanderer,
the arrogant conqueror,
the curious adventurer
the hungry dreamer
my blind foolish ambitious heart
my brave strong reckless heart
whispers urgings in my ear
time and again, i try not to hear
cz i know some risks are just too dear
cz life has taught me to fear
love, friendship, childhood,
and other pretty words.
and how they burn, and dig, and cut,
when they turn around.
i'll always be there ...
but no one's always there.
i'll always be there ...
noone's ever there.
in the night, when the demons dance
ur always alone by some freak chance
when the wind blows and sucks out ur soul
when the guilt drills into ur bones
by some happy or unhappy chance
ur always alone when the demons dance
multi colored.
and i weave
kaleidoscopic pictures,
with wild fancies
and stray dreams,
or inconsequential wishes, and thoughts
of my silly heart
all i have is pretty words.
to paint pretty pictures,
or sing pretty songs of love or pain.
What i want is to make them fly,
and all i want is to see them soar,
and all i want is make them roar with everything they need to say
make something real out of them
make them into something real
for example,
if i could use my words
to tell u how i'm feeling,
this minute,
or how i wept, last night,
hidden behind the half closed bathroom door
spilled over on the tiles in the darkness
hiding from demons
that were waiting in the bedroom,
under the pillow,
to sneak into a war dance
as soon as i put my head down.
or i'd tell you how she haunts me
everytime i close my eyes.
i feel like an orphaned child,
with nothing left to live for anymore,
and a feeling,
that this feelings just gonna grow.
that i dont belong to anybody anymore,
that nobody belongs to me anymore.
or, for instance, if i had the words to tell u how,
my life feels lived and behind me now.
that for every thing of beauty,
that i see outside or find within me,
theres nobody left out there,
that i'd care to show it to.
or no one to come home to.
image to live up to.
nothing to look forward to.
noone to hold on to in the night.
no love that comes without a price.
but i dont know how to say these things.
i dont know how to say anything.
if i did i would then tell u
how i think i'm falling for you
the way i wait for u to call
why it hurts when my hopes fall
and i realise
it would be wise
not to risk so much,
or anything as such,
cz though my heart,
the codeless gypsy,
the wild wanderer,
the arrogant conqueror,
the curious adventurer
the hungry dreamer
my blind foolish ambitious heart
my brave strong reckless heart
whispers urgings in my ear
time and again, i try not to hear
cz i know some risks are just too dear
cz life has taught me to fear
love, friendship, childhood,
and other pretty words.
and how they burn, and dig, and cut,
when they turn around.
i'll always be there ...
but no one's always there.
i'll always be there ...
noone's ever there.
in the night, when the demons dance
ur always alone by some freak chance
when the wind blows and sucks out ur soul
when the guilt drills into ur bones
by some happy or unhappy chance
ur always alone when the demons dance
How
how can someone abusing u
sound better than someone silent
how can one person, make the whole world
seem stupid and ugly and boring
how can broken faith stand again
how can i fall in love
sound better than someone silent
how can one person, make the whole world
seem stupid and ugly and boring
how can broken faith stand again
how can i fall in love
My favourite writers
There are many people who write but of all the blogs I have read till now there are three writers who I really love to read (apart, of course from my fav - pogie)anytime, everytime, eachtime. I wrote a lot of things but then I deleted it all. Sometimes I just run out of words.
Met a girl at the body shop yesterday who said she loved India and Shah Rukh Khan. She said she had gone and lived in Madras for a long time. Told her something weird - dunno - a slip? Not freudan I hope?
Reading Steppenwold atlast. Have had it forever but have been putting it off as I was scared of the big depression descending.
On my wanted list - trying to get hold of The Book Against God and some other books. Have it in my basket in amazon but never checked out. Somehow ran up a bill of almost 70 pounds and Im at my brokest this month. Phone bills mostly. As usual.
TGIF again. Looking forward to 2 days of sheer blissful blank. Toying with the idea of North Berwick this weekend. Or, I might go and finally check out what happening at the festival.
At somepoint I have to start thinking of certifications again. Need to choose from FPC 2, oracle or Java. Dont wanna do any of that though, which I makes it that much more exciting to look forward to.
Met a girl at the body shop yesterday who said she loved India and Shah Rukh Khan. She said she had gone and lived in Madras for a long time. Told her something weird - dunno - a slip? Not freudan I hope?
Reading Steppenwold atlast. Have had it forever but have been putting it off as I was scared of the big depression descending.
On my wanted list - trying to get hold of The Book Against God and some other books. Have it in my basket in amazon but never checked out. Somehow ran up a bill of almost 70 pounds and Im at my brokest this month. Phone bills mostly. As usual.
TGIF again. Looking forward to 2 days of sheer blissful blank. Toying with the idea of North Berwick this weekend. Or, I might go and finally check out what happening at the festival.
At somepoint I have to start thinking of certifications again. Need to choose from FPC 2, oracle or Java. Dont wanna do any of that though, which I makes it that much more exciting to look forward to.
too little too late
Where were you when I was burned and broken
While the days slipped by from my window watching
Where were you when I was hurt and helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun
Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of lifeand the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the waiting had begun
And headed straight..into the shining sun
Been ages since I heard Floyd. Seems fashionable (?) to hate Floyd and go for Terrapin these days ... or does it! This reminds me always of another VERY different, and as controversial (in our circles) song ... ghulaam ali, no less
While the days slipped by from my window watching
Where were you when I was hurt and helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun
Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of lifeand the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous but irresistible pastime
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the waiting had begun
And headed straight..into the shining sun
Been ages since I heard Floyd. Seems fashionable (?) to hate Floyd and go for Terrapin these days ... or does it! This reminds me always of another VERY different, and as controversial (in our circles) song ... ghulaam ali, no less
Dolly (Part 1) (version 2)
it was four in the morning. he stood by the water, leaning on the side of his car. the crickets were just begining to break through the silence, taking over from the daytime noises. everything else
was deserted and quiet. quite nearby an industrious spider spun busily away. there were a few drops of rain stuck on the web. they glistened in the moonlight. why had he never noticed how pretty
they were. he'd just been paranoid of ever getting near them. he wasnt scared of the spiders but he felt some nameless paralysis at the mere thought of walking into a barely material curtain
unawares and feeling it rest slowly on his face. dolly had always pulled his leg about it. daddy is scared of spiders. daddy's a scaredy paredey poo. the stupid silly things she used to say. all at once his
mind froze on that thought and came to a halt. its strange how one part of ur brain starts a thought and suddenly, in a delayed response the rest of ur brain latches on. in that strange way, the
whole of his mind registered that a part of his mind had used the past tense for the first time. he didnt feel anything. he wasnt the feeling sort. just a kind of clenching in his stomach. like something
went all tight for a second and made him hold his breath. then it passesd. it wasnt hard to deal with this. all he needed was not to close his eyes and not to think and to be left alone so that he could do
these things. he didnt want to forget. he didnt want to 'heal' - whatever that meant. he didnt want to be happy. he just wanted to be left alone. for now, atleast.
was he being unreasonable? overreacting? how much reaction is okay when your only daughter dies leaving u nothing really except a numbness, a feeling that nothing mattered.
he wasnt the only one in the world who had lost a child. he wasnt even the only one in the world who had lost this child. her mother, his parents, her parents, everyone loved dolly. everyone was
saddened by her loss. they were being far more rational than him, he knew that. yes, he knew that. but somehow, it felt like his case was different from all the others. he 'knew' at some level that it
wasnt really so, but still, it 'felt' that way. what was the difference? did he love her, sorry - had he loved her, more than they had? not really. perhaps the difference was that he had never loved
anyone else. he had not been very human to begin with. she had melted some tiny corner of his heart - just enough to make room for her little little self. now that she was gone and that room was
empty, and it felt like his numb, frozen heart would cave in a fall into itself, into the empty room. she had taught him to feel things but now that she was gone, he didnt know what to feel. he was in a
no mans land. neither here nor there
he spent hours by himself in her empty room.
and he felt like he had just been hung out in the cold. he couldnt go back to what he was a nd feel nothing and he didnt know waht to feel either.
she had not been his reason excuse to live, she had been but a reason why she he could not die, could not want to die
he thought now, while she had lived she had always blindly adored him. whatever her daddy could do no wrong. her daddy was her biggest hero. her daddy was above all things. beyond all things.
better than everything. now that she was dead would she have found out everything about hikm, all his hidden sins, transgessions, mistakes. all the times he had fallen, had not been able to help
himself, had cleaned up and come home to her later. shining in his daddy armour again? would she know nknow? would she still love him? did she hate him now?
why hadnt he come home. he had known she was ill. her wife had called the station frantically about a doxen times. dolly is burning with fever. dolly is acting strange. come home. scome home come
home. but he had kept putting it off. he hadnt taken it seriously. now he couldnt bear to look at his work. couldnt bear to walk into the little office. sit at the desk.
my love wasnt enough to keep you
nor my pain enough to bring you back
and neither my guilt enough to take me with u.
all iwant is darkness
all i want is sleep
backout
oblivion
all need is lethe
i have no right to mourn u
i didnt love u
enough to hold u
i didnt car
anough to be there
i have no rights
to anything
all i want
is a final exit
actually everything was beyongd repair now. his work, his marraige. with you, he thought, i have betrayed everything. when i turned away form you, my eyes burned the world down.
he was getting better, he supposed. everyday it got a little number where there was just raw pain before at first. everyday he lasted a little longer with out closing his eyes to see hier laughing
mockingly at hiom. not his baby gentle laugh. a adult, sinister, cruel laugh. that seemed to say - who's sorry now.
without suddenly out of the blue efeeling her dead weight of her tiny, limp body in his arms gain. like a dead sparrow.
was deserted and quiet. quite nearby an industrious spider spun busily away. there were a few drops of rain stuck on the web. they glistened in the moonlight. why had he never noticed how pretty
they were. he'd just been paranoid of ever getting near them. he wasnt scared of the spiders but he felt some nameless paralysis at the mere thought of walking into a barely material curtain
unawares and feeling it rest slowly on his face. dolly had always pulled his leg about it. daddy is scared of spiders. daddy's a scaredy paredey poo. the stupid silly things she used to say. all at once his
mind froze on that thought and came to a halt. its strange how one part of ur brain starts a thought and suddenly, in a delayed response the rest of ur brain latches on. in that strange way, the
whole of his mind registered that a part of his mind had used the past tense for the first time. he didnt feel anything. he wasnt the feeling sort. just a kind of clenching in his stomach. like something
went all tight for a second and made him hold his breath. then it passesd. it wasnt hard to deal with this. all he needed was not to close his eyes and not to think and to be left alone so that he could do
these things. he didnt want to forget. he didnt want to 'heal' - whatever that meant. he didnt want to be happy. he just wanted to be left alone. for now, atleast.
was he being unreasonable? overreacting? how much reaction is okay when your only daughter dies leaving u nothing really except a numbness, a feeling that nothing mattered.
he wasnt the only one in the world who had lost a child. he wasnt even the only one in the world who had lost this child. her mother, his parents, her parents, everyone loved dolly. everyone was
saddened by her loss. they were being far more rational than him, he knew that. yes, he knew that. but somehow, it felt like his case was different from all the others. he 'knew' at some level that it
wasnt really so, but still, it 'felt' that way. what was the difference? did he love her, sorry - had he loved her, more than they had? not really. perhaps the difference was that he had never loved
anyone else. he had not been very human to begin with. she had melted some tiny corner of his heart - just enough to make room for her little little self. now that she was gone and that room was
empty, and it felt like his numb, frozen heart would cave in a fall into itself, into the empty room. she had taught him to feel things but now that she was gone, he didnt know what to feel. he was in a
no mans land. neither here nor there
he spent hours by himself in her empty room.
and he felt like he had just been hung out in the cold. he couldnt go back to what he was a nd feel nothing and he didnt know waht to feel either.
she had not been his reason excuse to live, she had been but a reason why she he could not die, could not want to die
he thought now, while she had lived she had always blindly adored him. whatever her daddy could do no wrong. her daddy was her biggest hero. her daddy was above all things. beyond all things.
better than everything. now that she was dead would she have found out everything about hikm, all his hidden sins, transgessions, mistakes. all the times he had fallen, had not been able to help
himself, had cleaned up and come home to her later. shining in his daddy armour again? would she know nknow? would she still love him? did she hate him now?
why hadnt he come home. he had known she was ill. her wife had called the station frantically about a doxen times. dolly is burning with fever. dolly is acting strange. come home. scome home come
home. but he had kept putting it off. he hadnt taken it seriously. now he couldnt bear to look at his work. couldnt bear to walk into the little office. sit at the desk.
my love wasnt enough to keep you
nor my pain enough to bring you back
and neither my guilt enough to take me with u.
all iwant is darkness
all i want is sleep
backout
oblivion
all need is lethe
i have no right to mourn u
i didnt love u
enough to hold u
i didnt car
anough to be there
i have no rights
to anything
all i want
is a final exit
actually everything was beyongd repair now. his work, his marraige. with you, he thought, i have betrayed everything. when i turned away form you, my eyes burned the world down.
he was getting better, he supposed. everyday it got a little number where there was just raw pain before at first. everyday he lasted a little longer with out closing his eyes to see hier laughing
mockingly at hiom. not his baby gentle laugh. a adult, sinister, cruel laugh. that seemed to say - who's sorry now.
without suddenly out of the blue efeeling her dead weight of her tiny, limp body in his arms gain. like a dead sparrow.
No more goodbyes
my love was not enough to keep you
my pain is not enough to bring you back
my guilt is not enough to make me atone
my regret not enough for it to last
they come to you with affection
they come to you with bitter balms
i dont want to make it better
i want my pain to go on and on
all i want is darkness
so i can concentrate on you
all i want is to be left alone
so i can focus on the pain
all i want is to run behind
before you reach the banks of lethe
all i want is to understand this
how can you forget me
all i need is to believe this
that you could ever forget me
i have no right to mourn u
i failed u too often
i have no right, to touch ur soul
all i want is to run behind u as u fade away
all i want is to follow
or let it end this way
my pain is not enough to bring you back
my guilt is not enough to make me atone
my regret not enough for it to last
they come to you with affection
they come to you with bitter balms
i dont want to make it better
i want my pain to go on and on
all i want is darkness
so i can concentrate on you
all i want is to be left alone
so i can focus on the pain
all i want is to run behind
before you reach the banks of lethe
all i want is to understand this
how can you forget me
all i need is to believe this
that you could ever forget me
i have no right to mourn u
i failed u too often
i have no right, to touch ur soul
all i want is to run behind u as u fade away
all i want is to follow
or let it end this way
incomplete. maybe will finish someday.
this morning when i woke up
i was a child again
threw the day i grew up
as i waited for the rain
slowly the seasons change
nervous anticipation
nervousness becomes fear
fear turns to numb cold
as the sun rises the col unfreeazes
the day dawns with unincredulous happiness
excitement
i was a child again
threw the day i grew up
as i waited for the rain
slowly the seasons change
nervous anticipation
nervousness becomes fear
fear turns to numb cold
as the sun rises the col unfreeazes
the day dawns with unincredulous happiness
excitement
Like Repels Like
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.
incomplete. will complete someday. maybe
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?
Orange Skies
Sunset: In Edinburgh, on the 6th of August: the end of the days.
Originally posted @ http://prerona.blogspot.com/2005/08/orange-skies.html
TGIF
very long week. but didnt even see it as it passed. the festival is here. was supposed to go for something yesterday but couldnt make it. another week of 5am to 9pm. everything is blowing up everywhere. will have to come in tomorrow. im looking forward to the coming week. a bit embarressing. but atleast it should be quiet.
with the long heads season coming rowing will be something to look forward to! the festival will be amazing. am i lucky to be here this time of the year. u bet! im so excited!
saw an exquisite suit at Zaara. I will buy it. Havent bought a new outfit in ages! I think I finally 'see that I'm like all the rest''. (pom - beg ur pardon sweetie - wherever u are).
really looking forward to a long weekend of less work and more sleep! Will go out one night atleast. Will treat myself to a good steak and some good whiskey. I havent been out since dad left and that was some weeks. And its been a lousy 2 weeks. Its just when I met that guy at the makepovertyhistory that I realised I am in danger of becoming a hermit - whose idea of excitement was a 5K sponsored race!
By the way, remember my race, I raised the highest sponsorship amount in my team. And I think my time wasnt that bad for my first. So Im actually very proud of it :)
Doing a 10K next. Coming up.
It was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what's worse
Is this pain in here
I can't stay in here
Ain't it clear that
I just don't fit
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit
And when we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
with the long heads season coming rowing will be something to look forward to! the festival will be amazing. am i lucky to be here this time of the year. u bet! im so excited!
saw an exquisite suit at Zaara. I will buy it. Havent bought a new outfit in ages! I think I finally 'see that I'm like all the rest''. (pom - beg ur pardon sweetie - wherever u are).
really looking forward to a long weekend of less work and more sleep! Will go out one night atleast. Will treat myself to a good steak and some good whiskey. I havent been out since dad left and that was some weeks. And its been a lousy 2 weeks. Its just when I met that guy at the makepovertyhistory that I realised I am in danger of becoming a hermit - whose idea of excitement was a 5K sponsored race!
By the way, remember my race, I raised the highest sponsorship amount in my team. And I think my time wasnt that bad for my first. So Im actually very proud of it :)
Doing a 10K next. Coming up.
It was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what's worse
Is this pain in here
I can't stay in here
Ain't it clear that
I just don't fit
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit
And when we meet again
Introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
me
And it's me who's too weak
And it's me who's too shy
To ask for the thing i love
I am walking on the bridge
I am over the water
And I'm scared as hell
But I know there's something better
I am not the person who is singing
I am the silent one inside
I am not the one who laughs at people's jokes
I just pacify their egos
I am not my house, my car, my songs
They are only just stops along my way
I am like the winter
I'm a dark cold female
With a golden ring of wisdom in my cave
And it is me who is my enemy
Me who beats me up
Me who makes the monsters
Me who strips my confidence
I am carrying my voice
I am carrying my heart
I am carrying my rhythm
I am carrying my prayers
But you can't kill my spirit
It's soaring and it's strong
Like a mountain
I'll go on and on
But when my wings are folded
The brightly colored moth
Blends into the dirt into the ground
And it's me who's too shy
To ask for the thing i love
I am walking on the bridge
I am over the water
And I'm scared as hell
But I know there's something better
I am not the person who is singing
I am the silent one inside
I am not the one who laughs at people's jokes
I just pacify their egos
I am not my house, my car, my songs
They are only just stops along my way
I am like the winter
I'm a dark cold female
With a golden ring of wisdom in my cave
And it is me who is my enemy
Me who beats me up
Me who makes the monsters
Me who strips my confidence
I am carrying my voice
I am carrying my heart
I am carrying my rhythm
I am carrying my prayers
But you can't kill my spirit
It's soaring and it's strong
Like a mountain
I'll go on and on
But when my wings are folded
The brightly colored moth
Blends into the dirt into the ground
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.
wishlist
so much to be done. so little time. how will i fit it in! woke up late this morning. lost my prescrition. had to change my lenses but cudnt remember which power went with which eye. got home really early last night. 7 pm. was in bed by 8. still overselpt. its getting cooler again here. thank god. i cant bear too much sun. im addicted to these cereal bars and the strawberry milkshake now. so as soon as i wake up i start dreaming of breakfast. which, actually i do anyway. wanna buy another laptop. cant decide which. theres something wrong with clothes suddenly. i cant remember when i last saw a decent outfit. in a shop oir even on someone. have they suddenly stopped making non-shabby, non-paati, non-gross clothes worldover? while im at it I also wanna buya diray, a big office notebook, a new phone, a new pair of sneakers, a running belt, a new grey suit, with a new black shirt and new handbag. also wouldnt mind going into amazon and just ordering everything on my wishlist there ;) but its gonna take money ... a whole lotta precious money. so its gonna take patience and time. to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, to do it, right?