Wednesday, March 18, 2009
- 11:00 pm
"Suddenly, there is light and clarity
amidst the darkness of this
mind; a spark, glimmering faintly,
before it is, once more, engulfed
by the thickening, choking, velvet
black of silence.
the silence is a killer."
-29/5/08
a friend once told me to stay single and mingle. i guess it was pretty good. it gave me time to think, time i never had. 3 years of getting over, 2 years of ins, outs and roundabouts; and here we are.
you know how it is. old skools cool.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
- 10:24 pm
i remember telling myself that if i didnt get A's for gp and literature that id kill myself. looking back, perhaps i shoulda done the same for econs and history.
i need to return to myself. it isnt long in coming.
fin
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
- 8:02 am
without warning, we are plunged into the vastness of the world. the silence can be a killer; but there is a beauty to it, in solitude.
sometimes the best way to find yourself is to simply stop moving, and for a while; let the world pass you by. revel in the glory of your silence while watching the parts of the world fall into place until, like the last pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, you fall down too. perhaps thats how everything else came into being, how the world was made. first there was sky, and down fell the earth and mountains and trees and birds and animals. and then, as an afterthought, and probably on a whim, us. back then we could all take falls. we'd hit the ground and bounce up again like optimistic bastards. nowadays we just die. its more than the weight of gravity pressing down on your neck this time, bub. listen up, listen carefully, or don't listen at all; find your beat in the rhythm of things. Glory eternal, in the heart of your art.
your silence cannot last. the worlds turning is punctuated by these episodes of silence, these bit of time gone wrong. it shouldn't be this way sang ormus cama. it shouldn't be this way. your silence cannot last; it will culminate in an expression of your being, the painting of your song on a canvas stage. here we go; here they come, here comes the rebel, the anarchist, the nihilst; and then its not about being who they are- it is for being your own and answering to nothing other than the rationality of your own mind. being who you are.
sometimes you lose your way and cannot find the solace you seek, keep hearing the whispers of broken promises that were what were, the soft tread, the fatal finality of each footstep creeping up to hold you like an unknown lover. and so, we stand still. the moon must show herself, eventually, through this night of silence. then again, in the expansive desert of the world, you don't know if you'll ever be found.
we are, after all, the lost boys.
fin
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
- 4:13 pm
so here we are. the world around us has changed a fair bit, and the global economy got smashed to pieces since good ol' bubba bush wanted to go out with a bang. same old white people. let the white guy mess up, then get the black guy to clean out his mess. and if he cant do it get the mexican dude with the funny hair. then again, with things so expensive it might be cheaper to just go for the asian alternative. i heard that theyre all made in taiwan and delhi by 4 year olds. good old asians. we deserve a pat on the back for becoming so innovative and efficient we just nip in and take all the jobs from them white people. last i heard, Col Sanders real name was Sanders Tan Lim How. and ronald mcdonald? please. its common knowledge that hes really mas selamat in disguise. we seem to be getting good at all this job-thievery, along with that other family favourite asian pastime, reproduction. then again, no vespa, no colour tv, no husband. and even if you make it, its always great to have the traditionally warm hand-over-the-jewellery-or-its-kerosene-dousing-time welcome by the in-laws (usually mother). damn its good to be an indian bride. marry one of our fine range of indian husbands today and we'll even throw in a free sari when we toss your bedraggled form into your husbands funeral pyre. sorry, no refunds.
last time i checked, the teletubbies closed shop since the network found the cheaper indian version showing free to air on zee tv; and since the little kids never really understood anything of what was being said (honestly how different is eh-oh and namaste in terms of making sense. in fact eh-oh sounds like a cow having an orgasm.), i guess 'teleyaaros' went on to become a smash hit. foondo-fundo-funtoosh yaar. dishoom. must've had something to do with amitabh bachan being the face of the sun, but then again most people start looking lovable after one or two bottles of whiskey. theyre always smiling and jolly. then again i dont know if whiskey has any effect on amitabh, last i heard he'd beaten the crap outta chuck norris. still i suspect it was really more of the magic of rangge-berengy, dupeta, lellu and pooja fighting all the time that enchanted them kids.
i dont know why i do these things.
oh, by the way hi ariel.
fin
- 3:56 pm
sometimes the words come to you; find you on their own through the darkness of the night. other times they are hard to grasp at, like pieces in the wind but you know theyre there. you just need to find them.
there is reality. and then there are realities.
sometimes you have to leave the past behind to find yourself, and where you stand. to shed the layers of history from your person; to reveal a new oldness that had been hidden for too long. and sometimes you are changed, denied reality because this is the way its always been, this is how it'll always be, this is who i've always been (with). you deny yourself reality.
given that you only live once (unless your hindu and get reincarnated as a tapeworm. but id want to be a wolf) you'd hate to waste possibility in just accepting what is. challenge; stand up. freedom to be oneself is the only real freedom.
so there we were, shocked and who knows what else, and all for unexpected unexpectedness. you know how it is when everything seems just right; too right, then its perfect until you learn that no; things dont work that way; that we aren't all as loveless as we think we are, and suddenly, silence. you wonder if it was a mistake you made, and when you're done thinking, months later you get smacked in the face by the unexpectedly inevitable contact; and the phone keeps ringing (but fortnightly only. no promises.). and then you wonder how you deal with this.
so here i am and here we go. but its not gonna be a tell-all, no sirree. you take what light there is in the world; hold hope and love as lights that either guide or blind. then again, some people see well in the dark.
there are no hi's or hello's in this writing, nor highs and lows. but what there is is constancy.
how you are capable of replicating my thoughts, my nuances i do not know; how now i am at a loss. what do you do when you are in a dolorous nothingness? you take the stars in your tangled hair and you set the velvet blackness ablaze; you melt the emptiness away and are reborn in the intensity of its renewal. so there are others, and then there is perfection. almost literally to die for; but not worth living for, for the set of 'what ifs' that preclude possibility. still, i do not know.
a secret is only as dark as the world around it.
fin