shhhhh! i promise i wont tell....

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;"

-- The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock

-

=====================================================================

-

--

so tell me if you were given a day, just one, without consequences... what would you do w/ it?

one day of your life that that had no bearing whatsoever on the rest of it....

no rules no restrictions no aprehensions no complications. Do with it what you will! .... what would you?

where would you start? who would you offend? what risks would you take? what Absolutely U.n.s.p.e.a.k.a.b.l.e. Acts would you commit??

come on spill it! the darkest of you.... go ahead ... use the anonymous option ...i really dont care .... i just want to know ...

if this reality werent bound up in codes of rights/wrongs/morals/ethics/duty/responsibility/ what will he think/she feel...all of the chains that hold this wreck together.... that ground us (for better or worse) ...if they were to unravel just for a day ... how far would you go?? ?

puzzled

... and still... its like at a party a bowl is presented to you ... w/ so many peices of so many puzzles... everyone reaches in but only gets to grabs a hand full each.... and then each one tries to build their puzzle which ever ones they get.... knowing however that no matter how lucky you get, you will inevitablty be missing peices ... so then what ...do beg for another go and grab another handful or make do with your unfinished puzzle and try your luck at a different game? ("Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's." ... like thats any consolation)... either way you look around the room and all you see is a bunch of people either desprately trying to make the wrong pieces fit into the wrong puzzles or obliviously smiling past the gaping holes in their puzzles that they are hoping to God dont actually exist....

Za Gaman: life? or an 80s Japanese TV Show?

some days. just make you question everything. every single thing youve done. every decision youve ever made. everything you think you are. everything youve changed to become who you think you are. seriously though what i want to know is who the fuck vetoed the idea of the flashing neon signs that should have been pointing in the Right direction. Or even of flashing personal navigators "Danger! Danger! Do Not Go there! This is where you need to be going." "This here. This is what you ought to be doing"
"This is definatly going to be the better choice for you. Definately!".... Seriously both brilliant ideas. I really would have been fine with either one. But ....No! He has to leave us here. in the middle of all This. and we have to try and figure This out on our own. All by our helpless stupid stupid little selves! Well thats not to say that we'v been left Completely in the dark. i mean we do have the basic given guidlines; Right. Wrong. one goes to heaven. one to hell.. yada yada yada.. and ofcourse the little voice/s in the back our heads (read: a conscience if one/a reason to seek help if more then one)... but hey how's this for a sadistic twist lets make the way to hell waaaayy more fun then the other one and watch the little bastards squirm.. .daymn. :S (*squirm*squirm*)
.. not to be blasphemous or offensive but doesnt life just seem like one of those crazy Japanese (torture) "reality/game show where contestants endure a variety of humiliating and/or painful competitions to see who can tolerate it the longest". some days that defination rings waaay more true then it should....
*sigh

====

"we better have a good explanation
for all the fun that we had
'cuz they are coming for us, babe
and they are going to be mad" .....

hahah hearing these words abhi falls so0o well w/ whats going on in my head .... i *heart* ani difranco :P

There exists a world bound up in straight lanes. With routes, that guide, divide and direct. Constructed such that, its bends curve, with precision, along the narrow and wide. To plot a course through these territories requires tedious commitment; however, its present obscurity is eclipsed by virtue of the bounty of clear skies up ahead in the distance. In the left corner of that world, a little over its edge, Possibilities though they may lie under darker skies, are infinite. Dangling from that very edge, a different world turns over to give way to all that the former has shut its door on. All conventions, restrictions, distinctions are here blurred. Thrown. To the wind. The rules of nature overturned. The nature of man disassembled. Enveloped in the smoke emanating from that air, shapes turn colour to embrace another life. And now hanging from that edge, I dip the tips of my toes in that swirling, twirling water, which, if it were to, would sparkle as it flowed in whichever way it was that I ordained it to. Lying in their shade, I would almost allow clouds to drape my psyche in a haze of colourful sensations. Of myths. Vivid and alive. But now. Head out of the sand, I dust off the fairy dust of make belief and slowly make my way back. Back up towards the straight and narrow.

Stretched out beyond
your years, my dear
Black ravens across skies;
A dirty omen
Broken lullabies dispel
busted dreams now
Splintered lives surround
you and i
Pick up these pieces, dear
Pull yourself together now
We have miles to go, my dear
miles to cover before we surface

-- Ani Difranco

"Fuel" --

She was only six, but she knew just what she wanted. She sat in the middle of her glass box and got to work, building the world that would be her. She adorned her box with strings of happiness, stars of love and fairy lights, brilliant. Her ideas, dreams, and thoughts floated around the roof of the box, sometimes slipping out through the edges. But they always made their way back to her. The walls of her box, which she had painted orange, fuchsia and bright red, peeked through her shiny curls. Curls that framed her cherubic features. Not yet beautiful, but endearing, nonetheless. If she did this right, life within this box could be perfect. Spectacular, even. Just like her black sparkles which showed themselves only when the light played with them and twinkled in a certain way.
There were five corners in her box, each one a small, dark pocket, of a different hue. She loved the corners just as much as she loved her light and her colors. She kept a different ornament in each corner. In one corner was a bowl. An intricately carved fish bowl, with tiny little tears, in place of fish, swimming round in circles. Another corner held a doll; a mirror image of herself, only a little prettier, a little brighter, a little more inspired. The third corner, the one she rarely visited, held the scroll of parchment, in a wooden, square box. Endless as it was, the document held all the names of all the people she knew and loved. Every time she visited the corner, one by one each name would be ruthlessly rubbed out till the parchment was left blank. The names would reappear after a while but only to be erased once again (over and over again). In the next corner she kept a little porcelain dragon. Painted so faithfully, that if you held it too close you could almost feel the burn, from the fire it breathed. The fifth corner, the final and darkest, was fitted with the world's strongest steel vault and in it, cushioned in a custom made velvet pouch, laid her heart. Her box complete, she looked around at her handiwork with pride. Everything in place; everything perfect. Slowly, she got up from the center of the box and made her way to the tiny opening on the outer most wall. She then bent down, squeezed herself into a speck and crawled out of the box. Once outside, the little girl with the shiny curls, walked away. Looking back but once.

23.08.05-24.08.05

3:55pm

sluglug

feeling sluggish still! so0o so0o sluggish.
"i am a slug."
"i am the slug!"
"de. slug."
.... yea i thnk im boredd-ed!
urgh urgh ...got to get back in it! "just gotta get out ...just gotta get right out of hereeee *musiccc* ... aaahh best part of day so far ... i love the bohemian rhapsody ... untill ofcourse they changed the station back to the crap thats even worse then mix 96 ... bloody hip hop! the hard core kind! aaaaaaaargh backtosomebodykillmenowmode (suspicion: that may have had more to do w/ my headache then the eye thing) And that floor manager of ours is such a sneaky little fellow ..usually he blares the music but everytime one of us switches it to the rock station he turns the music down so0o low you can barely hear it... (yeah. intrefering w/ our calls my left buttcheek) and then before you know it the music is so0o low ur not really paying attention to it anyway so0o he goes and changes the station back and you dont even know what happened. sneaky!! little!! bastardo!!
"insigniffii-cunt...little bastardddddd!!" hahahha where was that from ...fuck this goldfishness... aaaaahhhhh ... i love how i can forget all other things and write such longwinded passionate rants about the frikking music at work! :P
seriously where would we be without these silly little things to distract us away from the bigger crap! i love it! reminds me of how on TV theres one character fucking up in the background and some little kid is left to distract the main person from looking at the fuck up! heheh its funny! ..... hmmm ... ok i dont think these meds are doing me much good .... physically or mentally ....
urghh ... hate the idea of being on meds .... esp when i cant see thier effects immediatemont... it just bothers me ... like a lot .... but no0o!! must not think about such stuff .. daymn wheres that little kid now .... heh o well ... posting on my other blog now ...(go through my profile) just because ... :P

"Your future is as boundless as the lofty sky"

well if its in the fortune cookie... who am i to question it? :P

- her words -

Her hands fit snug between her legs, warm and fleshy. The act, however, afforded her little comfort as she sat on the edge of her seat, afraid. Afraid, she might fall off that very edge and never again be able to make her way back up.

Despite the clutter and the noise, white noise, her mind spun around various versions of that popular hit. The one she had been listening to on the radio the day before. The one that had been remixed/resung/redone so many times and by so many different artists that no one even remembered how fresh the original had once sounded or what voice had belted it out that very first time.

With the sting of a biting remark, reality caught up with her again and she felt a little dizzy. A little dry-mouthed, all at once. She felt the clutter closing in on her and it made her want to Scream. Yell. Throw things and watch them shatter just as she watched everything else shatter around her. And, at the same time, she wanted to cry. Wail like a baby, with little baby whimpers, and then be tucked under the covers and put to sleep with a soothing lullaby and a kiss on the forehead.

She swayed then, in an attempt to distract herself, or was it just habit. Back and forth, back and forth, in one place. What she needed was to be heard. Just once, she needed them all to just shut the fuck up and hear her. Hear what she had to say. And care. Give a damn, just Once.

And they almost heard her. Because she almost said it aloud. But just as the words were ready to rise up and out, she quickly whisked them down, and back inside. Afraid. Of falling. That downward spiral. And then, she heard the din give way to her thoughts, her words:

"Stop it! Stop screaming! Don't you even care that I am in the room while you behave like this... that I can see you like this... like animals! Put an end to this nonsense now! Right now. Please."

But it wasn't her. It was her thoughts, but not her tongue. Her's was stuck. Caught at the back of her throat. These words came from a mouth; thin and precise like her own, but smaller. A smaller yet stronger, version of her frail self, nineteen years younger but somehow more herself then she was today. It was the force of those words, hanging in the dry, stifling air, that pushed. And finally, she fell. Fell off that Goddamn edge.

23.08.05
3:39am

:)

Your Feet

When I cannot look at your face
I look at your feet.
Your feet of arched bone,
your hard little feet.
I know that they support you,
and that your sweet weight
rises upon them.
Your waist and your breasts,
the doubled purple
of your nipples,
the sockets of your eyes
that have just flown away,
your wide fruit mouth,
your red tresses,
my little tower.
But I love your feet
only because they walked
upon the earth and upon
the wind and upon the waters,
until they found me.

--Pablo Neruda

hold on to your skirts, little girl.
screw the apple,
apple.
sunshine
it takes away
----- - - - - - - - - - - - - -the pain

(where the hell did they tell you that?)

round. pink.
a bundle of joy

(thats what you would think)

lift off the covers
now!
take them - ---- - -- - - - - away.
. already

its enough!
enough sunshine

"where the hell are my shades"

youre back

as i lie asleep
lulled by your warm breath
so close
i touch the surfaces of other worlds
and
i feel perfect

she misses out on the words that would inspire the songs floating above her waiting only for her to reach out and pick them out of the crimson sky. thick bold streaks run down puffy cheeks as she digs within herself desprate to come out up with something gold. gold studded with gems is what her tiny little heart aches for. a fist full of speckled air is what she draws out. Dissapointed her eyes well up but she holds on to her crystals well and wills them back within where she envisions them draping themselves over her corners her shadows so that in the end her insides will be painted in a dazzling sheet of a silverwhite that will reflect the little hopes the little ideas the little aspirations of her little heart and multiply them till they line the lines of her being and fill her completly. and then she will forget. that were she to reach out and touch them her fingers would sweep only through thin air for their reality just like her own remains to this day an illusion. that of reflections that may have been a little more real perhaps in a life not her own...

half a step to the left today
in a place where notes fly
off the handle
in the spin of a second
were it not
tommorow
where
we would begin again
again to the pain that will start up in my veins
again between the strings
that you will string
to string me along
to the tunes now
that your everything
tunes out
to become one once again with my own
everything

a night of disasters... i slept terribly. writhing in a sort of twisted itch-scratch pain of sorts, with unresolved agitations felt like hitting, screaming , just crying... but there wasnt anyone around to hold me while i cried....so0o o well .... i guess what followed then was in a way to follow....
.. a blur of tragedy. it was expected. somehow. she had known it would happen. i dont know why i dont know how. and she had laid it out so i would know what to do. inside the big burgundy drawer. that i was there in that place without the sobs the sniffles the screams brings tears to my eyes now. thinking back. i really dont want to think about it. just walking, armed with the nessecary documents in hand (what a strange thing to dream about.. documents..even in my dreams i do what needs to be done) walking forever through a dark corridor, i cried. but not as i should have. not as i (will). fuck. i dont want to think about this. and yet it did not end there. that one stopped and another much worse.
...the fire. that stopped it all. city in a grid lock. looking upar say ...like we were looking last night. with smoke rising. covering everything. and us on the other side. in a car of strangers. but they took us where we had to go. though wouldnt take us back. and then ... i. i let her go. i think iv dreamt this before. i think iv let her go before. i dont know what happens to her. ie. if anything bad does. but how the fuck could i do something as stupid as that. why have i done something as stupid as that before. i know i'd hold on to her with every particle in my being. and yet in my dreams i let her go and never forgive my self for that.
the news of others passing on during the disaster makes me think. one name i dont know one that i do. the stark difference in the way my emotions turn to the news of the name i know to that i dont. the news is the same. the happenings are the same and yet the sense of loss is only present when you have a face to the name that you must erase from the names and the faces you once knew. the other is just a peice of news. sad.....
so yea now im awake and i dont know what to do w/ myself. they called as soon as i woke up. so i know everyone's fine. its not like i had a crazy premonition (like you feel like you have when you see these things) .... ("impending doom"). so yea everyones fine. but i still cant shake the feeling off. the sadness. when the fuck with this crap that has nicely settled and made itself comfortable at the bottom of my stomach go away .....
crap..

my body is revolting! like not as in revolting revolting ...but revolting against me!! its giving me a series of tiny little "fuck-you"s ... and now theyr climbing up my fingers! ...and that too the middle finger more then any other... hmmm .... fuck. i really need to get myself cheked out!

oh another more personal note ... right now i am very drawn to the idea of peeling off the white bits off my left eye and slicing up the layers of skin on the palms of my hands as well as the soles of my feet into tiny little paper thin peices and then jamming them all into a bucket full of dry ice!!

daymn i hate allergies! Damn them!!
Damn them all i say!!! >:(

just saw spanglish ...and some of the scenes ... little things ..stayed... like when he's standing next to her and has his arm around and say something like "right now my hand is the only part of my body thats sane. the rest of me wants to jump off a bridge". it just fits. so well.

Some mornings I get a sinking burning feeling deep down in my gut. When I leave the house on those days all I can think of is making my way back under my warm covers to somehow will the feeling and the "impending doom" away.

the world
were it
flipped,
tilted over
on to a side.
and
everyone
scattered,
far
into the night

hanging on
to
stars
as thier guides,
i believe,
you
and
i,
would find
another way.
were it
even
if it were
on
another day

we'd make our way
back.
to lives,
meant to be.
life.
as it were/(is)
for you
and
for me.

urghh ...shitness at the pit of my stomach!! no matter how hard i try to be happy absorbing myself in mindless distractions ...it keeps coming back. "you live in a world of your own"... this disdainful comment in an msn msg this morning... discerned im assuming from my msn nick! well you know what if i want to! what if i want to stick my head in the sand and pretend all this shit is just not happening!! its not for forever obviously but just till i can.... i mean fuck i dont have a whole lot of time to myself now and if i want to enjoy these days and not kill myself w/ depression over something that i can not do anything about and believe me iv tried then what!!!?!... serious what the fuck. what can i do from here anyway?! what?!.
is it wrong that iv accepted already ... that my way of dealing with this now is ..well ok this is it ... and im not a freaking flipping out emotional wreck about it anymore (ie to the extent i was) ... fuck i hate this shit!!! i hate such comments! and i feel like a bitch for wanting to shout out well fuck you for having a problem with the fact that half way across the world my nicks seem to suggest i might be having a little bit of fun and a little bit of stress and a little bit of everything that has nothing to do w/ you and your problems!! fuck!!

uff what intiha of bumnessity

....so i think its quite safe to say that i really havent written/painted/done/said anything at all really worth reading/painting/doing/hearing in quite sometime now ... and the ultimate bumness of it all is that im quite content! heh ..or maybe thats the reasonness of it all... :p

so0o walking or rather dashing into work at 9:01 am obviously already groggy as hell i was greeted by the song!! the simple plan song!! the reeeeeeally reeeeeallly bad killmenowplease one! the one that makes me want to meet the band just so i can repeatedly stab each one of them with a reallysharpreallyhardreallyrustedreallyblunt object!! .... urghhh! "how could this happen to me"?? seriously you write such shitty 'rondoo'tothecore songs and and your still asking that question!! ... so0o yea after having to sit through THAT 1st thing in the morning and it only figures that the rest of the work day wasnt as a thursdayworkday should have been....
they should ban such song i mean come on!! what a dhabba!
and that radio station!!! the one they INSIST on listening to each and every single day after day after day after friggin day INSISTS on playing the same daymnsaddaymn songsss every three hours!!! killmepleasenow! so get this ... even though i ran home and tried to therapize myself with an hour or so of decent listening music my maochisticasfuck brain picks out all the crappiest of the crap songs (that iv been bitching out all week) and now theyre stuckspinningstuck inside my head! on repeat!! ONLY the shit ones! ONLY! (i can so0o see God having such a laugh right about now!)
o0h well .... if thats what it takes to keep Him happy and the weather this beautiful! well then my wonky brain at His service!!!
but yea so0o incase i havnt shouted it out enough alreadyyy : I LOVE SUMMER!!!! :) :) :)
*ahhhhh ~ sigh of contentment*

how do people do this? this!! this fucking mess!
what do you do when youre thrown into a corner. fucking cornered! then what?! how do you get out when youre between a rock and a hard place ... a fucking stubborn rock and an equally so hard place!! you get this far and you realize exactly the extent of the fuckedupness of it all ... no one is ok...no one is fine ...no one is coping well .. theyr fucking managing to barely scrape by with thier sanity in tact and that too just barely!

..too too tired of this .... will post later ...

it wasnt his fault. he was plucked. out of his own life. and placed there. placed by a force. unseen. Large.
or was it?
A gust of wind it was.
perhaps....or maybe it was just a puff..?
small then? inconsequential....?

muttering after the lights went out.....

choking on the words. (half-words).
lodged
at the back of your throat
SPEAK! Now!Spit it Out.
Bring them up to the surface and feel them crumble at the sight of air.
or Then again.
Breathe them back in. Quick! NOW! Its the only place they will be safe.You
will be safe.

=========

rub out those lines. scratch them.... the lines. on hands. start over
if you it be possible. rewrite. and what could/would it be? Another face or anothers'. your own.... smudged. erased. Someone else's
insecurities. would they be. real. as real as your own wrapped up delusions.

Each
part

pulsates

Each particle
In sync
with...

the Wisps
of
smoke
Play

around
eyes

the mouth


savours

weightlessness

touching
Each

part

i write sometimes. sometimes. to my self. mostly to others. it seems that the words that need to be let out need that only when there's something in the way. in the way of perfect cloud filled skies. sitting back with colours swirling around me whirling smiles from all directions. And yet it seems indispensable every so often that i need to come back to this little corner towards the other side of the scenic route.. to reboot or something or the other.. sink a little... to fully revel in the pleasure of swelling back to full mast. i enjoy now draping myself with a little touch of dark. not really real ofcourse. obscure sometimes. But there.
with reason. reason fucking unreasonable. how strange. strange. Just strange how. the world brings about such shifts and takes such turns. places you only to be replaced. deal with the real deal once in a while it was before. now it's the entire show. that's it. THIS is it.
its what its going to be like from now. onto the end of never. one after the other. "A series of unfortunate events" still to be seen. placed against the odds and told to make it through the pile of shit and come out clean on the other side. that was a phenomenal film. But no. he was the only man to have accomplished such a twisted task. that’s how the line goes anyway "the ONLY man i know who crawled through 500 yards of shit and came out clean on the other side".
What the fuck is the point. What?:
What!?! of any of this.. "LIFE, n : the whim of several billion cells to be you for a while"
urghhh.....what a place. what a script.
real. real life as it gets. realer each day. realer.. yea heh that’s not even a word..but you get the point. Fucking brilliant!

the dye
cast
clung
to her skin
staining it
deep
a scarlet red

picking at her
pores
goose bumps
on flesh
velvety
soft

pressed
up
against the wall
breathing strained
inhale. exhale. (inhale again)

with in confines
these spaces
(could she have been)
someone else
anyone
in this time this place

this surface
stark
plush
red raw red (today)


==============


will this flight of fancy be all then?

Ye jo halka halka suroor hai - Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

.

words of days

in a day
that took away
the misconceptions that
breathe down your neck
that dictate the directions
in which you may breathe

in that day
i realized
a number of things
seven
maybe 17

"Tango is much more than a bunch of steps; tango is a way to communicate using
your body, tango is an embrace for three minutes and tango is the dance of
expression with infinite emotions." -- Fernanda Ghi and Guillermo Merlo

'First We Dance' by Bill Brauer .....

...what an appropriate title... if i had it my way ... thats what it would be all about ... this entire charade ..an elaborate dance (well considering that is what it is figurativly afterall) but no ..in my world thats what it would be literally .... All about the Dance.
You start with a dance ...and just keep dancing!!

dancing smiling dancing a world of happiness drumbeats music rhythms and more smiles no confusions no delusions nothing but the music leading your body leading you. aah bliss...

whats in a list

exhausted!! ...seems to be the norm lately ....
night of craziness when leaving... craziness again coming back.... strange sort of symmetry life has... things go round in circles. round and round. round again. i dont know if they come back to square one nessesarily or just spiral in some wayward direction or the other....
cant think much right now ... everything seems to be going in slow motion ... what else can i do but play this perpetual fucking dodge the ball and smile the whole way through ...because honestly what else is there to do.

smile
la camisa negra is playing on the tv in the background ... that makes me smile...

i was thinking about it today (while looking at the clouds ofcourse).... getting through things through everything that life flings at you. and i thought about "things that make me happy"... that make me smile. thats all its about afterall. its how i'll ever get through this. this everything and the everything that will follow...
and i was thinking wouldnt it be great if we could list the things.. round them up nicely making sure not to spill them all over the place ofcourse and keep them in a box ... all to our selves... at our disposal ...to open up the box at any time at all and smile ....as needed.
that would be nice.

:) made me think of the raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens song ... hehheh .... i wonder if people already have such lists and boxes and if they manage to pull from them what they need ...as needed...