February 25, 2009 at 12:27 am (Snippet)
Tags: confession, confused, impermanence, miles to go before i sleep, not quite RL, writing
I’m really uncoordinated today. Worried about the tan shoes, pink tank, brown sweater, black coat, giant black bag. It doesn’t go. This irritates me.
I’ve run out of food in my room, and the wind is somehow cutting through my multicoloured scarf. I’m catching a cold. Hot boy walking next to me is talking, but since he doesn’t have more than two brain cells in his head, it’s easy to tune him out and just look at him. A dimple flashes, and I nod at him. Satified, he natters on. No doubt about the last time he got drunk, or this weekend’s game. Seriously, does no one have stories outside those two?
My career is heading downhill, I can’t seem to hold on. I know nothing, less than nothing, and what I know is probably wrong. Mendel’s laws are overthrown, stupidity is upheld as a virtue, epigenetics and cancer. My horizons are broadening, the land shifts beneath my feet and I am barely keeping my head over the water. Nothing fits right. I’ve hit the dreaded 60kgs.
The world is changing. I want coffee. No one makes chai here, and I just want to return to the womb. But here I am, sharing personal space with a random guy who has nothing but a few genes and a whole lot of harmones going for him, politely pretend-listening, but really cataloguing everything that isn’t the way it ought to be.
Patch of ice. My head was turned towards the hot guy. On the sidewalk, looking up at a flustered, concerned him, ice below.
I don’t think I have the energy to pick me up again.
—
Not quite fiction, but it isn’t all fact either. The boundaries blur.
3 Comments
November 19, 2008 at 8:48 am (RL, Snippet)
Tags: dreams, love, memories, waiting
Every time I dream of him, he gets more and more real. This is the fourth time that I remember that I knew it was him, and now I don’t even know that he’s any different from all the others that populate my imagination.
He’s ruining me for real life, for the run of the mill nice guys, for the assholes.
I’ve always been terrified of seeing his face, because once I did, it would be IT. Ka-splash. Camphor falls. End of story. So why do I feel bad that he doesn’t exist?
5 Comments
November 18, 2008 at 4:09 am (Snippet)
Tags: akwardness, complications, love, relationships, truth
My life is quite the most interesting imaginary toy I possess, and I’m taking it out for an experimental joy ride. My inner observer is back. I was watching today as we nagivated the complicated and infinitely interesting minefield of akwardness. A bit of hesitant maybe-maybe not. A smile, but not a frown, because that would make it even more messed up. Keep it nice, yes, friendly, yes.
There’s nothing quite like what might have been to make one doubt the intentions of another; nothing that can erase the slightly bitter tang of regret that comes of doing nothing.
And yet not having the courage to do something.
You’d imagine that wearing red would make you feel confident. Bold. Vibrant.
It just feels like a giant bullseye painted on you, and like you’re screaming – victim here, please attack!
2 Comments
November 14, 2008 at 5:17 am (Snippet)
Tags: colors, dreams, kalidescope
Did you know that the night sky isn’t black, it’s a rich deep velvet in blue? And the stars that sparkle in its midst are hard – blue diamonds too. I love the vivid orange, the burnt tangy feel of it. And the warmth and happiness that a lemony yellow gives. Calm me if you can, whisper the many shades of green: the carpet of the golfing sport is a hushed melody. I’d tell you how every colour feels, for they are tiny keys. Unlocking the way I look at life, and offering a sneak peek: see, every soul is a collage of many swirling eddies (of current or color, it’s same thing). But I have not the time to tell another, I have yet to learn – so many things, so many shades (no, it’s not an acid dream!)
Oh!
Tell me why you think it strange that I touch and taste and feel colors?
Well, she’d love colors too if she could see them, but she sees only in black and white. And as for colors – well, they are but shades of light.
3 Comments
September 14, 2008 at 3:05 am (RL, Snippet)
Tags: escapism, love, pain, remember, truth
What happens when you are perfectly at home when you return to four narrow walls that were never yours (nor could be) ? It’s the ohshitohshitohshit, not again! feeling.
And it leads to more paper cuts of pain.
Mindless work is a soothing, temporary reprieve.
—
Some of us never learn, I think.
And this was written months ago..
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