Riddance/Digression

spirals

2012-01-27T14:20:00.000+08:00

the music trips me out, and the complete lack of sleep makes me feel drugged, and not drugged of calm, almost uncomfortably ethereal. if i try enough i might be able to project, evolve and super eveove. i wouldnt believe me if i were sober. sounds simmer in my head and press on a million nerves. it might begin to harm me, but i stay.

propel yourself around me, in and out of me. take me, broken mind, body and spirit and emote it to what you will.
i am but for you to meddle and mould, and if i said i needed you once, it was always a lie. This love has powers to reappear, many times in a single life, and over again a million rebirths, forward and backward, and in ever evolving spirals, and spirals, and spirals.

2012-01-10T02:44:00.000+08:00

how wonderful it would be to live in a world where you could tell all your secrets, and be unburdened, and people will still love you.

For Kabir

2012-01-09T21:18:00.000+08:00

Would it be unsafe to

allow

my eyes to carelessly wander

from

pools of oceans, to

contours

that flatten and dip, rise;

godlike facades

that appeal, may it be

to some, even many?

i find appeal in pesudopedantism

and truth, and freedom

and it is such

encased within men with

accepting words.

and similar imagined worlds.

nostalgia is erroneous.

you.

you simply remind me of that.

like ginsberg, like vonnegut, like plath, like kerouac

2012-01-03T20:55:00.000+08:00

i say it out loud the words i read, and they excite me, as if they might him when he edited, and edited for hours under dim lights, under marijuana, under morphine, under most efficient of mediums. poetry. and this wasn't blindly written, it is music merely, just spoken, not sung. but is not the spoken word songs in itself? in my mind, still, beauty and nakedness are unsequestered. and life, it is not brief. moments may be fleeting, but life is long, without any moral characteristics. life, is only perception of time.
and if you so choose to perceive it as linear, that is what it would be.

i choose for a panorama.

Limbo

2011-12-27T06:32:00.000+08:00

it would be wonderful if i could just stop existing all together.
not die. just suddenly not be here anymore, like i never was here.
i want to just stop
existing
like i was never here
so no one will miss me and no one will be glad of my absence either.
just ignorant of my once breathing, living, wasting organism/orgasm.

it would be wonderful too,
if i could feel drastic emotions, ranging from all corners of the world.
to feel all extents of everything,
all at once
and it would be wonderful
because that would mean im really living, and it would remind me to breathe
and stay alive.

but i stay stuck between
conditions and primal instincts, disallowed to live fully,
disallowed to just stop existing entirely.
to be lingering here, like a zombie on relaxants,
it fills me up with a greater sadness, and i recline into
invisibility so even when i speak, people interrupt
because they don't even see me
so the voice they hear they ignore, they think its in their head.

that makes me sad too.

Dear Fellow Damaged Ex Girlfriends of the World,

2011-12-24T00:47:00.000+08:00

why cant we all just get along?
we've all felt the same pain and played the same silly games, we've been bitches, and we've tolerated our men being the same. so after all the common ground, are we still to hate each other and give in that easily to our stereotype? whats the point of all the men-women-equal-blah-blah when you behave exactly the way hollywood/bollywood prescribes our gender to? drama isn't endearing, romantic or attractive, so why pull out your guns at the mere mention of a name?

and while we're doing this, i should also make it evident that you getting over your head ridiculously angry over your ex moving on just makes you seem clingy, immature and obviously you're still dealing with your daddy issues. but then again, who am i to judge, no? but it is what it looks like, and i mean no harm.

pain is pain and i agree. but why impose this pain on someone who really isn't that much a part of your life any more? why this need to control? just relax, have wine, make friends, travel, just BE.

recently i read slaughterhouse 5 by the eversoappealing Kurt Vonnegut. he talks of death, and how we must take it much lighter than we do now. theres a lot of talk of the time space continuum, but that shan't be brought up. Simply, whenever there is mention of death in the book (which is a lot, its a book about the war), he simply states after, 'so it goes.'

i like that. its simple. its straight and it allows for linear movement forward and forward. try it on for size, ladies. jealousy and anger just will boil over and make you nastier than you already appear to be. and why should we lose that battle so easy and give up the upper-hand? and why should we let our ramshackle emotions interfere with people who mean the most? its unfair to unload and unload endlessly without a thought for the person who's running around desperately trying to catch the fragile, but useless baubles you careless throw.

and hey, if we never dated someones ex, we'd just end up being peado's!

or worse still, we'd die alone, ugly and sexually frustrated, all adrift in our spinsterhood.
now THAT'S a real horror story.
just saying.

love,
a damaged ex girlfriend.

(p.s. also, could you all please refrain this time from telling all and sundry that i have herpes, abortions, sex for money, sex with animals, sex with chaiwallas/dabbawallas/generally all wallas (and even wallis on some occasions apparently), so on and so forth? only if it isn't too much trouble, of course. i would appreciate it greatly!)

karan said

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000+08:00

at three in the morning, a little bit higher than we should be on port wine and other substances, karan sitting in his little wooden swing, said to me, full of insight and genuine wisdom,

"issues are something that you chose to have in your mind and over time you can chose to get past it and focus on things that mean much more to you. and there can never be issues."

i love having friends.

predicaments, predicaments.

2011-11-25T06:43:00.000+08:00

lamenting, just one of those bad days for no apparent reason. whining and cribbing about how i'd never be a writer got a friend of mine to read my blog, and as he read he looked at me quizzically and asked "where's the stuff you don't put up?" somehow echoing a certain other friend. so desperate i was to receive some sort of positive contribution that i opened a few documents, all incomplete drafts from the last three months. and after a couple of minutes, he leaned back on his elbows, like he was very tired, nodded a couple of vague compliments, and changed the topic after a pregnant pause in conversation.

but later, in the next awkward silence, he popped up and told me, as if there was no option but to do as he says, "you'll be a writer. but only when you're not afraid of shaming your parents."

my face blushed the brightest purple.

its not the muse, just the courage?

star crossed

2011-11-01T04:25:00.001+08:00

somewhere, through mild eye contact and firm hands that led me down stairs, i recognized something strange, something very intuitive, something that drew me, inexplicably, to him. and almost two years later, after time does its share of wear and tear, i still feel slivers of that intensity, and i feel ridiculously naive.

neither of us ever did make the first move out of some sense of moral duty. and now,

what am i doing now? am i making choices to secure myself? but shouldn't i be making sure i can still free fall?

i know if i left this alone, untouched, clean and virgin, i will never feel like this again.

but if i come and leave again, then i'll never forgive myself.

but then again.

what if i dont?

.

2011-10-28T20:20:00.002+08:00

i wasnt expecting to feel that rush of tightly knotted emotion when he handed over my certificate and congratulated me. my strict policies on making scenes in public, and years of practice helped me keep it all in, subdued, quiet and nonexistant. but back in my room, i exploded in a fit of rage and cried, and threw it all out of my body. and in that same mad state, i tore up all the books, all the pages of writing, of study. i tore them up and threw them away.

im not done. theres much left that needs to be expelled. but im on my way to something new. to something big.

i need to learn to think purely and singularly by myself, unaffected by choices of others, or others choosing to choose what i must choose.

singapore. go fuck yourself.

Deterioration

2011-10-13T21:12:00.001+08:00

and as time passes, all the sharp edges get filed down to blunter corners. it is the inevitable deterioration of a relationship. and still the obligation to love each other remains, but changes. we were once constantly compelled to be completely honest and truthful with one another, but now we keep our lives as our own, and tell only what need to be told, as if politely excusing ourselves from the ramifications of the childishly honest tongue. my utter derision for carefully prepared truths seems to be of no proper use, since after five beautiful and ugly years, i see no other way it could have worked.

now i choose to follow the steps that unfurl instead of planning eactly how to walk the walk, because if i am being honest, i dont know how. so i live the only way that makes sense to me, the only way that will provide for me some amount of happiness or even temorary satisfaction. i indulge where i am tempted and i hold back, reagrdless of his existance in my life. i find myself less inspired to live two as one, and i propell myself into living the one for one life. and still as the pinches of regret and hope squirm around uncomfortably, i find myself on the peripheries of a happier time.

such it will remain, until affections change or continents collide.

Troubles of the Woman #34

2011-10-06T09:18:00.000+08:00

it was as if the entire universe had expanded around me. but then like a rubber band would, it snapped and collapsed against me, and i fell into an infinite saddness where there wasnt even room to breathe and all my movements were constricted and miniscule.
my legs felt heavy and my eyes would feign sleep until my head hit the pillow.
suddenly my body felt uncomfortable and i was stretced out over a dark ocean and all i wanted was to see someone on the shore.

and then i looked at the calendar and realized i was PMSing.

design.

2011-09-26T01:07:00.000+08:00

and i see him dance, two steps ahead of everyone, with a slight recklessness.
like a hand gripping my liver, i feel overwhelmingly sparked. not crushed. sparked.

more often than not,
all it takes is for a man to be just himself. with a slight recklessness.

Pune

2011-09-24T19:05:00.001+08:00

plagued by potholes and pigeons.

i grew up here, right until after i turned 18. after being away for five years, so many parts of the city seem strange to me. the short breaks i had here were far to hectic to notice a lot. but being here and truly experiencing it again, i see how much has changed. but much is just as it was; that makes it seem surreal sometimes, seeing bits of a familiar past with an unfamiliar present. and that makes me nostalgic and regressed. random memories i haven't thought about for years spring up and make me feel slightly vacant inside.

but i have spent some of the best years of my life, thus far, in this city. they were glory days, like Bruce Sprinsteen's song. and for the most part of it, i love the smells of this city, and even the noises. being here is like being in a place i had dreamt of.

there is something really pretty about pune. and i know i had seen it before.

baked

2011-08-07T22:24:00.001+08:00

so from my long distinctly brown hair that i don't brush often, to my callous ridden toes that are too rough to be lady like,
i believe im not domesticated,
what, with my fear of neatness and an essential loathing of cooking,
paying no heed to last weeks food stains on my jeans,
i may not look the prettiest picture,
but i can sure bake you one (:

Tie n Dye cake baked to the sounds of the Chemical Brothers

reading greek

2011-08-05T00:17:00.000+08:00

i miss crete.

i miss waking up to the stench of last nights unwashed dishes. i miss the long windy walk on the beach to the school. and watching the susan sarandon make me my feta, olives and bacon breakfast crepe. i miss connie making me coffee at 10, with a biscuit from dekatria on the side. i actually do miss how hard the course and the work was. and i miss kristy and i being silly at the most inappropriate times.
i miss the beach and that first time swimming in the buff. and that last evening at the (makeshift) fourseasons with the two, finally in light moods after passing the course,

greece made me feel like i was encased in an energy, constantly. and i was extraordinarily happy there. head-in-the-clouds-toes-in-the-sand-mythos-in-hand kind of happy.

and while i am so lucky, luck does not nullify massive yearning.

nails and bones

2011-07-27T08:23:00.000+08:00

"to be a writer, man, you know, you gotta haveta understand the human condition. you have to tap into how people suffer, you know. i mean forget about your puntuition, or how ever it is you call it. and then imagine words like they are feelin's, melting into each other with out stoppage or startage and in-betweenage rubbish that is ridiculously insignificant when you come to see it all. i mean, to be a writer, man, you need to be so unafraid to look into you dark places, without making a funny face if its all wet and sticky. i mean, its like getting that one leg up on a chair and holding a pocket mirror under your crotch to get a propah good look at your privates, so you know them as well as you do your mug, you know?

"to be a writer, man, you haveta be everyone. and you haveta see the shit and the gorgeousness in everythin. And to write with any spirit of Dickinson or Shelley or even that mill fucking bloom shit, you need to just abandon that twat voice in your head that needs you to be exact, because you wont write anything I’d like to read if you cant understand what it is to be vague while still saying exactly what I want to hear. “

i wrote, long hand and all, everything he had to say, looking up every couple of words from my pad to nod at him excitedly, even as with every sentence I felt with greater conviction that I couldn’t possibly be a writer. Man.

He didn’t seem to care but his face glowed because he knew I was listening with rapt attention, not so much like the girls he paid to bang.

Winehouse.

2011-07-26T12:41:00.001+08:00

just a couple of days back in singapore and the internet was covered with news of Amy Winehouse's death. i usually remain pretty unaffected by celebrity death. when jackson died last year all i thought was, well ok thats sad, i thought it was madly hypocritical how suddenly everyone was listening to jackson songs, and praising the crazy dude like he had always been their idol. crowds love tragedy, and more than that, they love to act like they are moved by it. now i choose to speak about jackson, because while he was a different crazy and a different talent than was winehouse, both were in their own ways massacred by the media and the public. jackson with his is he isn't he a pedophile and why the fuck is he dangling a baby from the balcony and of course his on again on again affair with plastic surgery; regardless of did he didn't he, he was torn apart by the media, his 'fans' mocked him and he was pretty irrelevant the last few days before he died. and suddenly after that, the jackson fever started, elevating him once again to the pedestal he stood upon when his nose was bigger and skin a few shades darker.

Winehouse was a drunk and a crackhead. she was damaging herself. pictures have been strewn across magazines, newspapers and the internet, showing her walking out of a club, dazed, with hardened powder lining her nostrils, and trailing over her lip. and all the pictures of her various skin disorders, her public craziness with the Blake guy. i mean she was sawed into pieces by everyone. people laughed at her. and now with her death, just as jackson was, suddenly winehouse is everyones favorite, suddenly everyone is talking about her 'talent'.

does anyone really give a shit? or are we all just so easily swayed by massemotivemovements? or is it just guilt? or humane sides being instigated by death. or are we all just selfish softies, craving for our happy endings in the celebrities we make gods?

thing is, and i'll be honest, her death crushed me a little because she was young, just a little older than me.
but it is so much more selfish than that.
back to black was so good, just how massively amazing would her next album have been?

i don't think any of us give a shit about the person she was, or the drugs she did or the meals she threw up. i don't think any of even give a shit that she's dead.

because at the end of it all, i didn't know her.
so, i don't miss amy.
i just miss the music she could have made.

2011-07-12T05:16:00.000+08:00

the best train seats must have both these elements; they must be window seats, and the must face the direction the train is moving in.
during this travelling time, i usually have only been able to find a seat that is either the window, or either the direction. therefore, you can well imagine my smug contentment on having both requirements fullfilled on my way from vienna to prague. contentment that was very short lived, that is.

15 minutes in, i realise that i am stuck in an ac compartment, that means the windows dont open. now why would i need to open the windows in the comfort of an ac compartment? well simply because the fucking ac just never started! and for the rest of the 4.5hour journey i melted through my skin, and reached a point where even the seat against my bum was too hot. i was glad to get out and into the far more tolerable european summer.

anywho.
prague is far too nice to complain about train journeys through the bowels of the devil himself.
and i plan to come back to eastern europe, next time with friends. there is much too much fun to be had and i simply cant do it all on my own.

to divert to the real point of this post, before i get carried away with more complaining, which is that ive set up a new blog where im going to put up some posts about my travels, straight from my journal, with pictures et al.

http://soopertrooper11.blogspot.com/

i hope my large following of 10 followers will sneak a peek.

goodnight, all the way from prague!

the hills are alive.

2011-07-06T15:59:00.002+08:00

im in salzburg, home to mozart, sound of music and Sachre Torte. the train ride it was something out of a fever dream, mountains of jungle green, precarious bridges under which cold emerald green streams run recklessly over pebbles and stones, icy white waterfalls tumbling through massive boulders and the green overflow, and clean, crisp pastures continuing out for miles. moving out of the tiny streets and hustle bustel of italy, into austria was like that moment of super enlightenment, when you find the answer to a math problem, when you manage to tongue out that little bit of food stuck between your teeth, meeting a deadline, jumping into a pool of cold water after a hot busy day, your bed after too many drinks and loud music.

yesterday i actually spent the day in germany. who the fuck does that? goes to austria and spend the day in a whole different country? me, thats who! spent the day in the mountains, constantly on the brink of tears because of the beauty that just lay spread out before me, and because that always happens to me at higher altitudes. yep. the higher i go, the bigger a blubbering fool i become. the view was perfect however, and altitude or not, i was overwhlemed. now the alps dont have the same majesty that the himalays do, and also are smaller than the grand old himalayas. but there is something beautiful about these mountains, as if they are cradling each other. I had lunch in berchtesgaden, germany at the Golden Bear and had bratwrutz with saurkraut and mashed potatoes, with a light beer which had the creamiest foam.

i came back into austria around 5, and which point i went into a little town on the outskirts of salzbug, whos name invades me right now, for 'tea' if you will. and i had an espresso, with apple strudel with two scoops of vanila ice cream. true, complete and genuine bliss.

the sound of music tour just had to be done, because well, i love juie andrews. it was fun seeing the places the movie was shot, and surprised at how much i could remember. but the guide pretty much ruined it for me by playing the soundtrack non stop for the four hours we were on the tour. bitch.

the evening provided to be sulky and rainy, and i somehow found my way back from town to my hostel in the rain, without a map, just chasing a mountain i can see from my dorm window. not too bad for a chick, i'd say.

the hostel turned the sitting room into a home cinema and was showing the sound of music. and as sick as i was of the song, i couldnt resist curling up, nursing a beer and watching.
so i have a bone to pick, while blue ray and hi def is freaking awesome for movies like transformers or fight club or the prestige. but when you take a classic movie, like the sound of music, and put in sharp lines and definition, you are taking away from the original charm.

well yeah, thats about it. i head out today, to the mozart museum, mirabell platz and to sink my teeth into what has been accalimed to be the best chocolate cake in the whole universe, the Sacher Torte.

the day is sunny, and i believe that i am quite madly in love with Salzburg already!

venezia

2011-07-03T20:12:00.002+08:00

rome, bologna, florence, ravenna, riomaggiore, vernazza, la spezia, monterosso, genova, venice.
two weeks in italy and my heart is overflowing, and my stomach is full. italy has been a whilrwind of massive sensory stimulation, and i am constantly reeling back from it.

my feet ache, and everyday i contemplate more and more about throwing away some of my clothes if only to make my bag lighter. also, if it is possible, i have grown QUITE tired of pizza, and yes if i saw an Indian restaurant i would run to it without a second thought. a girls gotta have her masala, man.

but, when i realise that i have a mere two weeks remaining, i feel completely ridden with the feeling o infinity suddenly being cut into quater pieces. at first the days seemed to be going at a comfortable speed, giving me enough time for today, but not too much that tomorrow was too far. but now, unsurprisingly, the days have picked up momentum and speed and seem to be racing through. it coudnt be getting over so fast! it doesnt seem so long ago i was in Singapore, i was nervously standing in line at the embassy to apply for my schenghen visa, pretty darn sure my plan was going to flop down on me and fail.

but here i am, pretty bruised up, very brown, with a back now impervious to any sort of bedding and flip flops that are on the verge of giving up on me.
i feel damn good.

i cant help but look forward to ridiculous amounts of sausages, beer and classical music in Austria.

thing is, i figure,
for the last couple of years ive been picking up inertia heading straight toward the bottom, and a couple of months ago, i bounced right off. so now, i must only be headiing for the biggerbetter.

Molto bene, tutto bene, Italia! Ciao!

you know youre a backpacker when

2011-07-02T01:17:00.003+08:00

a spritz of deo is laundry enough.

you will gladly trade your clothes for toilet paper.

you steal napkins from cafes so you dont have to spend money on toilet paper.

you look at people with suitcases and immidiately create a category for them labelled "chumps"

you spend hours talking with random strangers without even feeling the need to ask names.

solid shampoo seems like the most ingenious invention

you convince your self that you could travel for a living.

you constantly pretend you're on a treasure hunt.

you go to sleep at night exhausted and happy.

of riomaggiore, dutch boys and loud italians.

2011-06-28T22:20:00.003+08:00

after packing and a quick shower, at 12 i headed into the square under the aparment to get a last breath of the cinque terre night air here at riomaggiore. the sky was a midnight blue black and littered with stars. from the edge of the square i looked down into the little dock and the restaurant accompanying it. i received a warm goodbye from a group of italians, competely unaware of my presence, down at the docks standing with their hands pressed to their hearts, singing loudly, joyously and presumably under the influence of some cinque terre red wine, the italian nationa anthem. the sea was so clear, in the night light too i could still see the rocks of the sea bed for a couple of feet until it got too deep and too dark.

there was i, barefoot, braless, hair out into the breeze, wine in hand, on my own, smiling to myself. it had been a good five days here. a very good five days.

i had a wonderful couple of days with the dutch boys. they were intolerably, how to say, adhesive. i miss dereks very charming ways, that are obviosuly a compensation for some roughness he decided to smooth out with charisma. but he was, with effort, smart and even forcibly metrosexual. and while i usually push aside and think lowly of those to whom attributes do not naturally come causing them to try, i found myself being able to appriciate his efforts in more ways than one.

brian was wise and calm and increasingly self aware. he was the one who didnt need to try at all, and while his nature wasnt silky smooth and sultry, as was derek's, he was effortless. he was fun and accepting. he had much to say on practically everything, but didnt say much but for a few words that made enough sense to cancel out long paragraphs and endless sentences, the way i usually react.

jerome, young and horny of course. while i wont miss hearing him sneak up on roxanne in the night to get a little feel up, i did enjoy the few conversations we had, and i wish i may have been able to spend longer with him. he spoke with such inspiration of all sorts of different adventure sports that i may have on impulse decided to go snowboarding, or some sort of thing like that.

i am surprised by how much i miss them, given that i spent just three days with them. but they made it memorable and very happy for me. i would thank them, but i somehow didnt feel the absolute need to over-put silly sitiuations. maybe i will go to holland one day. i know i want to!

the day they left, the four americans that came in the place of the dutch boys dragged me along with them for dinner and made it wonderful for me. i got to see my first and last cinque terre sunset. it was spectacular, sitting high up on some creek that took alot of breath to reach, but as one of them said, worth every step. and we sat there, with plastic glasses of cheap red wine and watched until the sun went down and then strolled up via colombo to get hazelnut and coconut gelato.

walking back from the square, still in earshot of the jolly italians below, i felt full and happy. the old fashioned street lights in the square were glowing gold and the breeze was cool and wrapped around me like sheets. waslking through, i felt like i could be in some obscure fellini film, if only there was a boy playing the harmonium here, something like autumn leaves, and i was naked, cigarette in a long silver filter and my lesbian lover was standing at the top of the stairs in just the bed throws, waiting to walk back with me to our apartment, from which you could see multitudinous shadows of people moving in slow and fast sensual movements and you could almost taste the sweat.

but it was just me, fully clothed, no music, no lover and no orgy waiting for me. just me, on my own being who it is i can be for now, walking back to the uncomfortable bed in the tiny apartment that has no lock on the door. and as i watched orange embers fly with the breeze in the dark of the night, i was still and again, very simply content.

buona sera, bologna!

2011-06-23T04:56:00.003+08:00

and im already halfway through the italian leg of my journey. Ive spent the last four days in Bologna. it was pretty much a last minute decision one day before i left Rome. i was caught between donig either perugia, ravenna, turin or bologna. and i finaly settled on Bologna and man am i glad i did. I love this city! esspecially after coming in from hustle bustle rome, this city seems so much more laid back and un-touristy. its still got the city life, but not in the crowded, jostling way that rome does. I spent by first day exploring just the smal area im staying in, mostly to look for food and i found the best paninis ever! ham, roket and copious amounts of oozing cheese! the next day i extended my explorations to the rest of the city, i walked around for hours, just going through streets and purposefully getting lost. Bologna is made up of red buildings and more red buildings. at one point i took the bus to the highest point in bologna, where a church was turned into a hospital by this guy during the outbreak, and from there the city just stretches out infront of you, an dyou see red for miles, slightly inturrupted in places by the odd and ugly morden building, but it looked almost mideval! that with the green of the trees, sight for sore eyes.

i managed to make it to florence the next day. the last time i was here, florence didnt treat so well. the weather was sour and gloomy, and my family was the same. but there were two reasons i wanted to return to Florence, one was to visit the Uffizi Museum, where the birth of venus by botticelli is housed. the birth of venus, another 'commercial' art piece, one of the prettiest i have seen, albiet much smaller than i had imagined, which took away a little from it. but i was glad i did stand in the two hour line in the italian heat to get in, because it was just enormously humbling to see so many great works by artists such as botticelli himself, da vinci, perugino and di cosimo. the one piece that grabbed me much more than even the birth of venus was another by Botticelli still, called the seven virtues. It is apparently one of his first works. very strong and beautiful pieces.

the second reason i HAD to go to florence, was to have the Florentine t bone steak. and so i kept myself at the brink of starvation the entire day, until 6 30 pm, after scouring the streets of florence to find what i thought would be the best restraunt i would find. and man did the steak live up to its reputation. it was cooked to perfection, properly charred on the outside, crunchy and crispy, and soft and red and bloody inside. so good, it was almost sexual. i put away the 0.5 kilo steak with a glass of wine and a small lemon gelato after, followed by the very necessary expresso, no? yes please!

today was Ravenna. it was the capital during the byzantine era (which was another name for the roman empire, buring the greako-roman era). Ravennas charm is its mosaics, done in true byzantine style. they are very attractive and appeal to me more than do paintings. i didnt get to see many, since i had only the day, but the 5 i did see were truely awe worthy. it would have been nice to spend maybe another day in Ravenna, but i dont think i missed out on too much by not.

now, in my 'hotel' room, since i was lucky enough to find one in my budget in bologna, im taking in the last few hours of having a room and bathroom to myself. im afraid that for the rest of my trip i revert back to living in hostels and dorms. the horror.

tomorrow i make my way to Riomaggiore, which is one of the villages in Cinque Terre, meaning five villages. i urge you to look up a picture of riomaggiore. it looks beautiful and i hope it is actually just like that when i go. its going to be a long day with a heavy bag, chnaging trains twice, first in florence and then in la spezia. im looking forward to it immensly!

i believe, to achive the most contentment one must have a gentle balance between travel, food and good coffee.
man am i content.

Molto Bene!

2011-06-18T21:01:00.007+08:00

my fourth and last day in rome. i celebrated it with a big lunch of poscuitto e melone (ham and melone) and pizaa margharita, all with a glass of wine if you please; and i ended with a ball of vanilla icecream wrapped in a layer of chocolate icecream, covered with a layer of rich chcolate powder.

yesterday, the vatican. the walk to and from was long but happy. the vatican is huge. there is too much to see, and i do wish i had two days to spend at the vatican because it gets slightly redundant to try and fit everything into one day. in any case, i did try. the last time i was here we made the mistake of going with a tour group and we were rushed in and out of the vatican in a mere hour. waste of time and money. this time around i spent good time in the vatican. three walls i was very much looking forward to seeing (again) were Michaelangelos fresco on the celing of the sistine chapel, and the last judgement, also done by him, on the wall behind the alter and the school of athens by Raphael.

the first two are as popular as mtv. even if you do not know what they are called, if you have watched enough tv you have seen or heard of them. but pictures do no justice at all. you have to be there to see the grandness of it all, the vibrancy of the color and the outlines, the individuality of each face and the movement represented in the whole. i always have to take a moment to understand, what it must have vicerally and psychologically been like for the artist to establish such great vision, and scandalous at the time, on the walls of the apostilic palace.

what i like the most about the last judgement is the figure of Christ in the upper middle. in pictures of Christ, you usually see him docile and almost without energy, scrawny and maybe even a little unkempt. but this representation of him is powerful, almost greek god like. he is standing in a dramatic fashion, his right hand lifted in a powerful and demanding way, while his left seems to display calmness and patience. His body is large and strong, hes got the eight pack, the broad muscular shoulders, thick arms and coloumns for legs. his represented stance is that of a prince or king. he seems royal, not humble. im pretty sure if people saw just this image of him, they would not guess it were christ until they notice the signs of stigmata on his feet.

the celing frescos have within it the famous creation of adam, which has been ever so meekly played upon in the more recent (but still retro) E.T. but it is just the livelyness with which the celiling has been painted, it is hard to grasp that this was the creation of one singular man. it is so beautiful and detailed to the last curve of every sinew.

the third the school of athens by Raphael, if you look at it with many eyes, you see many different thing. the first thing i love about it is what massive star power it has! 22 figures of famous people, plato, epicurus, pythogaras, hypatia, alexander the great, aristotle, archemides, zoraster and ptolemy to name a few. the central figures are supposed to be plato and aristotle, they both walk together. platos hand gestures above, while aristotles gestures to the earth. this in itsself has interpretations and meanings galore, what i found inspiring was aristotles hand, and the way it provided me with this dramatic impression of true dimensional space him, the rest of the painting and me.

the day peaked a little after i was standing in line at Old Bridge for 20 minutes in the scorching sun, when i finally got my huge 2 euro coconut-mint-black cherry gelato. i have half a mind to walk an hour to the vatican and stand in line again to get more of that goregous gelato . but my laziness is far greater than my love for most things, even gelato. so i shall spend my last evening with perhaps a panini and a cheap old box of wine.

life is good.
Bologna tomorrow.

the ancient greeks and romans had this tradition; they would eat alot, gazillion courses of elaborate meals. and to stomach all that food, they would eat, then throw up, and then eat again, and throw up again and continue until everything had been reduced to digested food or vomit. it shows two things about these people. one is that they were hedonistic, all too consumed by the aesthetic nature of the senses; one did not eat to survive, one survived to eat, to taste, to savour. the second was that they had gross means to live like that.
but, then again,
is it so wrong if im tempted to live just like that?

life is, after all i think, a million times heightened by only two things, absolute sorrow, and complete and utter contentment.

theresa magnificata

2011-06-17T02:12:00.002+08:00

i have been longing to see her for a long time. i was here before i didnt get the chance to see her, and one of my main reasons for returning was her. i walked around today for too long looking for it. people kept giving me wrong directions. either i wasnt saying it right, or i coudlnt understand them correctly. either way, i did have a good afternoon just walking around, in what seemed for the longest time to be in circles. and finally i kinda figured out where exactly it was on the map. so onwards i went. i passed it without even knowing, the exterior had been covered up for renovations, but that was the place, Santa Maria Della Vittoria. as i went in, i felt excited and somehow, a little nervous. i walked slowly. the curch was smaller than i expected and dim. but i knew excatly where she was the moment i set foot inside the church. when i finally saw her, all melodrama aside, i had to hold my breath.

The ecstacy of Saint Theresa, by Bernini. it is one of the most beautiful sculptures i have ever seen. you may almost expect her to actually be breathing and moaning. her body seems to be rocked by a full orgasm, like its rippling within her. but her face, all in ecstacy, seems so terribly calm and strong and in control. it doesnt seem like a woman who is being used by anything or anyone. she seems like all within herself, the world, the universe, the entirety of space. the seraphim by her side seems to be worthless. the story says he gave her the ecstasy. however, the way i see it, he is smiling because she did it all by herself. she didnt need a man, a god or a child. she found everything within herself. and thus in the wake of full self awerness and complete self acceptance, her mind and her body were overcome by the purest state of wholeness and love.

i have felt so drawn to see her, and i feel almost new now that i have.
Italy always does hold great promise.

tomorrow, the vatican, st. peters cathedreal and ponte sant angelo. Ponte sant angelo was another stop that i couldnt make the last time i was here. its the bridge, i think built by emperor hadrian, lined with huge sulcptures of ten angels.

like i said, great promise.
everyday im looking forward to tomorrow.

Choos, Zurich!

2011-06-17T01:59:00.003+08:00

switzerland was pretty. it reminded me of a very pleasently nostalgic feeling, not the type that feels like poisoned arrows. the weather was perfect, and the colonial houses along the banks of the river took me back to those lame calanders which have pictures of these magnificent places that you think you would never really see. it was lucky that we had Maggie to take us around a bit and give us a very non touristy feel of the place. we did like the swiss and ate, drank and walked around in parks, red light areas, riversides. she also took me to this small shop called beers of the world. and yes, they had beers of the world. of course i was excited and was all ready to buy pretty much everything, until i was rudely inturrupted by the realization of how expensive Zurich is. anywho.

zurich was great. 3 days was enough for my wallet, but not for me. there was something excessively wonderful about it, and i really hope i have the oppertunity and money in the future to go for longer and buy alcohol at the beer from all over the world store.
until then, ima gonna have to make do with Italy.
oh the horror!

Yasas!

2011-06-07T18:29:00.004+08:00

the water is clear and blue for miles, the beach littered with thatched umbrellas and beach beds. and bodies everywhere! chiselled or not, curvey, lumpy or stick like. its like everybody is here, from all over the world, all the different types. and in the 5 o' clock sun, the part starts, with the loudest bass thumping, cheese music, and people still drunk from breakfast get everywhere, unto the bar, tables, or any space available and they dance. the perfectly tanned model like women who scream incessantly and randomly, the crazy italians gonig around trying to get everyone drunk, the bby boomers with their old skin that gets completely underplayed by their youth. and then the random guy in the silver thong that cuts so deep into his ass i cant imagine how it must not hurt, but then he turns around and hes stuffed his schlong into a tube thats attached to what looks like an elephants face on his crotch. and he somehow is in possession of a mike and keeps saying the most wise things like "open your mind! open your pussy!" yeah, grecian oracle alright. and i sit in the sun, in my itty bitty bares and stare up in the blue sky as plane passes overhead, and i cant help but feel like im one of those eurotrashpop mtv videos from the late 90's. life is good.

here the morning is a lame excuse to get over hangovers, and then mykonos gets primal. women throwing their sexuality around in way thats would give a feminist a tumor, and the men like they can get everything and anything, prowling around for the women in the smallest bits of clothing, or whatever else if they get rejected. and homosexuality everywhere and no one gives a shit. its true, and shallow and deep and so much life. beauty in everyone and everything. parts of me want to give up acaemdemia, this seems like a fuller life. come here, be a waitress by day, go go dancer by night, live in the sun with the beach in my backyard. this must be what is must mean to be content.

good times, man.
we all deserve them.

too cool for salt and lime

2011-06-05T07:19:00.001+08:00

getting drunk is for special people, the elite, the bravest of them all. its not for everyone. its specifically for a certain breed of people who risk mornings of terror for the good of fabulous nights. its not an easy task, getting drunk, not as easy as it may seem. it takes effort, courage and a stamina that must have been trained from the tender age of 10 when you started stealing liquor from drunk relatives at parties. and never be fooled by ones appearance. even the strongest men and women end up whimpering on their knees, with their arms frantically clutching a toilet bowl, while their entire bodies convulse at high speed spasms trying to eradicate all the waste that the body just cannot process. its the weak ones who stumble back to their beds/floors promising themselves that they shall never again drink. the strong ones wake up, shove a finger down their throat, and then lay back after a violent puke and say "fuck yes. good times!" and for these promising individuals a hangover is the small, but necessary price to pay, as a way of paying homage to the gods of such plain, but poweful, bloody good nights.

there are two kinds of people in the world.
those who cant drink. and those who do.

Effharisto, Crete. Yasu, Athens!

2011-05-29T06:00:00.002+08:00

so its been a whole damn month here in Chania. i remember starting off with a panic attack, and then very swiftly moulding into complete calmness. and that is exactly how i feel now, my last night here. just plainly calm. i have learnt so much, from what i have studied, but more so from the people i had the fortune of meeting. days have treated well, afternoons with jewellery sales men and honey raki, or getting treated to half a bottle of wine by a smitten restraunt owner, or connie and me pigging out on greek food and mythos, or christy and i driving around getting lost in crete, oggling at anything on a motorbike. or even teressa suddenly vanishing to turkey, imbalancing the group dynamic, or the same module that all three of us flunked. i have skinny dipped in the middle of the night, snorkled with fish in the glitterling mediterranean, taught english to greeks, pakistanis, albanians, i suntanned in the buff, walked through ruines, made friends with two old jewellery salesmen, ate the best food and drank way too much, drove around crete and got thoroughly lost, made it a morning ritual to flirt with the bakery boy, walked mindlessly through chania with no destination or intent on arriving anywhere, sang to myself in an empty stadium and chased mountain goats into trees.

im getting in sync. and im as ready as i could be.
Athens tomorrow, and then, who knows!

Cha-Boom!... Look ma! no tan lines!

2011-05-21T20:55:00.003+08:00

chaboom is a brazilian term for taking a quick jump in and out of freezing water. the sea has been cold since i arrived in Chania. in the first week, just sitting on the beach in just my swimsuit was intolerable. but the weather has been progressively getting warmer, and i can see from the mountains behind me that most of the snow has melted, and that spring is in fact melting into a grecian summer. even so, a couple of days ago when i dared to dip my toes into the water on my way to class, it was way too cold to stand there for too long. so figured that my time on Crete is just not going to allow me to go swimming in the beautiful clear sea. oh well. ive had more to complain about.

today, i woke at 8, and stayed put in bed, lazily, still confused about an almost sex dream with michael cera and with a longing to get onto the beach. so after finally hauling myself out bed, i grabbed all beach essentials; cheap oil, towel, sunglasses and of course my modesty, so to speak. the day felt oh so good. warm sunshine, and a cool breeze. perfection, no. yes.

so there i am, laying in the sun all oiled up and happy with my self, hoping i burn to biscuit soon enough. and then. i figure. take it all off! so.
i did!

stripped of ego, of conscience and self criticism. and i felt blood good! i didnt care who stared and who didnt and no one gave a shit.

anyway, while i was being so brave, i decided to turn it up just a little bit more and chaboom! so i got up, ran toward the water and jumped into it. and man was it chilly, but it felt so good, and so clean and clear, i coudlnt stand to get out! so i swam, nude, tanned and so happy, in clear grecian waters.

now THIS is what i was talking about when i said i want to really live.
I'm finally living.

jo

2011-05-17T23:15:00.003+08:00

her cadaverous face contrasts her bursting, burning eyes, so full of ugly longing, like battered street cats on top of walls. everyday her stockings are unnoticedly torn revealing rough skin. she is far from beauty and it surrounds her beacuse. but days are when her voice is softer, and sweeter, and only well deserved.
she matches nothin. she isnt any color, she is tranparent, nebula or invisible completely.
she is like dread plaited into a braid.
or like curdled milk.
and pins in noise, and coal on winter skin.

Ola Kala

2011-05-16T05:46:00.003+08:00

i hate hard work. i do believe i was made specifically for hedonism. but it almost makes me sad, how i thrive under pressure. also im eating way too much cheese. and i truly do hate cooking. also, i drink too much, and i do wish people would complain less. and i wish i had less work and less study and no grammar rules. and i do miss my speakers. whats more, i miss having a washing machine, and the lights in my apartment are not bright enough.

on the other hand, i am on this beautiful island that has rainbow sky sunsets. it also had the truest blue waters and snow capped mountains. the beach is a minutes walk away from my apartment. and the walk to school is always a sight for sore eyes. the weather here is perfect, and im already quite tan! my teachers and observers are the role models i should have had when i was 12, and their genuine guidance and love for their profession has helped me grow so much. and i have had the oppertunity of meeting wonderful ladies who have inspired me that i may have never to stop doing what i love. also, my dark cirlces are fading. and the vegetables are so good here, i drool. and the beautiful harbor makes me feel more and more at home everyday.

I wake up early. but i find myself smiling often.
i think its because im actually here.
also i think its because im teaching, and it feels so fucking natural.
plus, im conquoring so many fears.
and the guy next door at the bakery, well good looking men who smell like cookies. how could i not smile.

next week is going to be a bitch. but i will not ever complain, or regret.
i dont think i have found any muse or literary inspiration; and i probably will never find one again.

but i feel peaceful, as if it were innate.

cretean sunsets and JD

2011-05-03T01:18:00.005+08:00

i dont seem to be able to fully accept that i am infact in greece. i must admit though, the position i am in right at this moment is most enviable. im sitting on the balcony of my little studio apartment, looking out onto the purple and orange sunset skies behind a grassy farm hill, and if i crane my head just slightly to the right, i look out on to the mediterranean ocean. the lights from the shops and the houses on the left urbanize it, but turning away from that, its quite picturesque. and the weather, oh for gods sake, is so beautiful! in the 8 30 twilight, its breezy and sweater worthy. but the mornings and afternoons are sunny and just the right amount of warm. it is wonderful being here.

my jaws ache because ive been grinning to myself a lot. but the company i have been keeping is wonderful too. the women i have met have been inspiring and have educated more than i would have thought i could be; but it is a beautiful feeling meeting these women, from different backgrounds, all much older and more experienced than i am, and have comefrom hardships that i would never know at this point. it makes me being here seem to easy! but they inspire me everyday, with the way they are and where they have come from, and their need for so many things that i crave for without fully knowing if i can actually achive, and i see them achieveing and i am rendered only stronger, because i have no choice but to believe in myself. it has been just two days in, and i am so thankful and i appriciate so much already.

i find myself more open, than ever before, to just learn more and connect, to be honest with myself, and to learn to conquor my need for misery. we are not bound by anything, not our countries, or our religions, or languages, or even our families. we are only bound by what we choose to be bound by.

i am so wonderfully happy, and i apologize if i sound like a hippie or a preacher, but i am filled with an unexpected calm. i laugh at the panic i felt, sitting at athens airport, on the verge of tears because i was so scared i was making a stupid decision.

kristy said this morning, a phrase used among people living in the grand canyon area in the US, "if youre not living on the edge, youre taking up too much space." maybe that could be a little extreme, but hey, if you want to fall, you better fucking jump, right?

yes.

The Marriage of Figaro (Overture) - Mozart.

2011-04-24T05:24:00.006+08:00

i have been mentally preparing myself, for the last three months, for my much longed and dreamed for backpacking trip never happening. come to think of it, i probably have been preparing myself for complete fail plan since i originally thought of it when i was 7 years old. or something. i am after all, quite sullen in thought. at least i seem to think so. i mentally prepared to never have the opportunity to go, that when i finally got my Schengen visa last wednesday, i realized, much to my aghast, that as much as i had dreamed about it, i have never mentally prepared myself to actually be able to go! so now, a week away from lying in my bed on the pretty island of Crete, in a town called Chania (pronounced ha-nee-ya), i am filled with equal amounts of excitement, nervousness, and of course, the ever prevalent anxiety.

and somehow, the nervousness and anxiety are like carbonated drinks, and all shook up, the foam hides away the excitement.

suddenly, i wonder, am i fucking mental? i can barely hold up conversations with my friends, and im going to throw myself into strange countries, among strange people, that i must at some point interact with, alone! and anyone who knows me at all, knows that i have little problems being by myself. but this is a crazy thing, no? fuck yeah it is.

and when im not making five hundred and twenty seven lists, i have time to let my mind wander it takes me to dark alleys and mean italian taxi drivers, and bedbugs and lost passports. but then, there is that duality, i speak about so fondly. the stable, level headed and grown up part of me decided to be corny, but still calming, and out of nowhere comes up with very soothing hallmark card bullshit.

out of no where, the image flashes in my mind and i think "ships are safest in the harbor. but that is not what ships are made for."

i have been feeling restless for so long, and to let my imagination slow me down or cause me any hesitation would be a complete loss of courage and also the tiny shards of dignity i have sticking out of my chest will all just fall out, and that will be more than just tragic.

so i will go, with or without nausea, be (as) friendly (as is humanly possible of me), happy, thankful, and scared but unafraid. i will go and search through atlantis, the alps, the roman empire, Mozart's tomb and through the lands of the bohemian crowns, for soul or muse or godot. and i will come back, hopefully with a health tan, dirty clothes, seven trazillion photos, and my passport still intact, and my back way stronger, my knowledge and understanding increased ten fold. hopefully i'll come back knowing that my parents have no favorite child, and that their mistakes are as forgivable as i believe mine should be. hopefully, i wont be as awkward and treat people as people and not as if im an alien with limited understanding of human interactions. or maybe i'll come back the same, with a headache, a weeks worth of laundry and too many stories i'll never tell.

thing is,

the more i think about it, the more i don't care about what i'll get.

the more i think about, i just know like an orchestra playing the marriage of figaro deep inside my gut, i have to just get up, pack up and go, fucking go, go, go and LIVE!

and i will.

and i'll do it well.

soulmates

2011-04-05T18:37:00.002+08:00

i believe i have had two soulmates in my less than perfect minimal 23 years of living-breathing exisistance. i've fallen in love enough of times, but that feeling of intense connection, only twice.

the first time, i found my soulmate amidst heat of passion and anger. we were pulled toward each other with so much force, we'd collide and bounce of each other, only to build up force to collide again. our strength lay only in our inability to be with each other.

but the second time, there were no fireworks, or orchestral love making. and while that made me anxious and untrusting, i began to find solace in the silence of our kisses, and the primal violence of our love. my senses were not heightened to their individual strength, but merged together to create 360 degree ethereal understanding. time gradually turned transparent and effervescent, as if i could see through now into forever, rendering us timeless.

sometimes we find our soulmates.

sometimes, we mould to make them.

The Invitation by the Oriah Mountain Dreamer

2011-04-04T03:06:00.001+08:00

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments

of new friends, old school and travel.

2011-03-29T13:57:00.003+08:00

my stats show this mad increase in posts being read per day, from a measly 2 to 4 views, to a sudden 59 views yesterday! now of course one must feel slightly giddy about such increases, and i went on to discover that majority of my new audience are reading from France.

so if this isn't some sort of stupid miscalculation or spam viewing thing, then

bonjour, les gens de la france! vous remercier de me rendre la semaine!

(i try)

**********

after a year of reading through piles of literature, and getting permissions, and then recruiting participants, then trying to recruit more, then collecting data and the nerve-wracking experience of using statistical programs on SPSS to analyze my data, and the humiliating experience of my oral defense which was really good and really fuckall at the same time, and the last month of 36 hour days and 5 hour nights, trying to be as meticulous and perfect as possible, and 5 minutes spent at the book binders today and the one taxi ride to school from river valley road, i have finally finished my first research project.

now lets just hope i get my schengen visa on time so i can fly my ass out of here.

2011-03-28T00:27:00.002+08:00

if you watch cinderella backwards, its a woman learning her place.

*maniacal laughter*

"Dear Jhun Jhun, i'll always be your groupie" and other endearing stories

2011-03-17T21:40:00.005+08:00

so like i met this one boy when i was 10, the first time i went to goa.

and we played on the beach and tried putting up a tent. i remember it was diwali and i remember firecrackers.

i remember he had a guitar, he said it wasn't his own

but he played it like it was, and i was truly enamored at how this boy who was my age could play the guitar as if he was music himself.

and now, i know him again, and still.

i devote myself to being a groupie to his awfully underrated talent.

and he should never stop playing. ever.

so please, please check him out here ---> Arjun and Soumya- I'll Think About It

i enjoy so much how this track lilts from blissfully melancholic to happy so easily.

gotta be proud.

trash culture

2011-03-14T23:40:00.003+08:00

so in the age of justin biebers and miley cyrus' you'd think that it couldn't get any worse. i mean how did we get from led zeppelin to ke$ha with a dollar sign and all?

nevertheless, today i realized that this deep dark hole that is becoming music is actually never ending!

a certain rebecca black has bombarded the internet with lightening speed. and im sure she's ecstatic with the number of hits she's getting on youtube (i watched it twice, you know how you cannot stop looking at gnarled, burnt skin). but she's god darn HORRIBLE. and this opinion seems universal so far. Nevertheless, i do not trust the youth of today at all. i just really hope she's not the next big thing.

if i never hear about her ever again, and i never have to see her on E!, or at any red carpet telecast, or on the front page any teeny bopper magazine, then my faith in humanity will have been restored.

"Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream

I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been
To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen
They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed

Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear."

-Kashmir (Led Zeppelin)

kiss and tell

2011-03-12T17:01:00.005+08:00

a learnt how to kiss with me.

b taught me how to do things without ever taking off our clothes.

c introduced me to pink floyd.

d licked cake off my face and looked like bon jovi.

e tasted good, but had no balls, metaphorically and other wise.

f stole a kiss in a bathroom, drew me and then demonstrated massive relationship paranoia.

g was so much older, and both of us were a little drunk.

h didn't even hold my hand :(

i gave me garnet earrings, kissed me in a train, and introduced me into the most tumultuous time of my life, yet.

j took me for bike rides in the rain and rested on my shoulders later.

k was young, cute and innocent.

l was also much older, but just and only horny and vile.

m had teeth that stained my skin with massive lust, promised me helicopters and islands of money.

n was smart and began my love for stoner movies.

o and and i finally unleashed three years worth of quiet chemistry against a washing machine.

p always makes my insides flip around like crazy.

q was the same as i, but i just felt sorry for him.

r was wrong, small, but non committal, without attachment, and fun.

s was drunk fun with a broken foot.

t was forbidden, made me quiet and feverish and crushed.

u was so much younger, without a clue and very cute.

v was a banker without a clue

w clapped in public, and was bald.

x lost all points by insisting on carrying my bag

z made me fall hard, all over again.

2011-03-09T18:50:00.003+08:00

nothing alters perspection and ignites passion like the consuming fear of loss

overload.

2011-03-06T07:44:00.002+08:00

this manic relationship i have with my circadian cycle really does get the better of me.

my late nights are almost extinct now, since my eyes stay open well past sunrise. its a rush to be awake to see the sun take a full 360 of the planet.

but then, around 9am, the weird half hallucination thing begins, where its not as if im really hallucinating, but its as if i am awake and i am asleep, dreaming, at the same time. it is strange, and it feels like a high.

which further makes me feel as if i am searching for ways to feel different from myself.

alcohol and his friends have been emptied out of my system, so am i just relapsing onto a different high? messed up, no? yes.

however, these very long nights that melt into days and somehow again into nights, and so on vicious circle and all, they seem to actually give me extra hours.

as if i may not run out of time as fast as i anxiously think i will sometimes.

however, i find, no matter what chemical may be released or pulled back, i still feeling sore that i have no stories to write, and the ones that i do are rubbish in words.

so i still lack muse.

i remember reading, in this really badly printed psychology book for my 11th grade, that people who used their creative juices with passion, were merely compensating for a lacking ability, or experience that they did desire, be it consciously or un.

an example was given of a man who authors love poem after love poem, may be compensating for his lack of sexual activity.

this now makes me think, did sex eliminate my muse?

this is such a messy, messy world.

such a messy world.

dominos.

2011-03-03T03:49:00.003+08:00

im too afraid to write it, or even say it in my head.

like earthquakes makes pavement cracks appear to be creeks in themselves, and tiny ripples turn to wipe out towns.

but i did not lie when i said you and i, we just belong.

if i have done wrong, i would like to say it to you.

but my yellow soul is so afraid.

racism vs fashion

2011-03-01T14:24:00.003+08:00

could i just deflect from my normal morose, dark and wallow-ey tone of my blog to just say, big up Dior!

could i? please?

when Galliano's suspension from Dior was made public, following an incident where he let fly a barrage of racists comments on a couple in paris, and apparently some other folk too, all my fashion forward "facebook friends" were of course OUTRAGED that Dior would suspend the most awesomely brilliant great super wow-est fashion man there was. also a couple of them decided that what the man did on his own time was none of the brands business (which ok, to an extent i may try to think about), but what really made me just laugh out loud (and i don't mean just LOL, i mean really) was that most of them agreed that Dior was being, get this shit, "shallow for suspending Galliano. they are only looking out for their brand image. galliano rules! xxxx!"

tsk.

our generation worries me a lot.

love.

2011-02-26T03:12:00.003+08:00

shall i steal you from them? the ones who dont love you the way my love overflows, beyond judgement, beyond humiliation, beyond whores, hookers, straws and white skinned she devlis and slit eyed she devils and christian she devils? shall i steal you away, by force, rape your privacy and your individuality just to have you, whole, untouched, but by my heavy hand and sharp tongue? shall i? could i?

if i shouldn't, you should run.

leech

2011-02-26T02:34:00.002+08:00

i realized, albeit two years later, that the psychiatrist, whom i met with through the insistence of my counsellor, decided within a span of twenty minutes that i needed to be put on an army of medication because i told him that who i was in person, and who my body and mind are, are two separate entities, behaving differently, reacting differently and thinking differently. i likened it to a more biological system of Freud's personality ice berg. i realize only now, how he latched on to what i said about this. he didn't pay as much attention to anything i said, until i spoke about this duality. it seems absurd that he found this absurd. i have never thought it to be so.

this duality i speak about isn't parallel to any sort of schizophrenia, or MPD or spiritual conscience. its very hard to really describe it out from the way i think of it. its biological. as simply as i can put it, i believe that our behavioral selves and our biological selves both experience emotions, which i think are survival intuitions. however it is not always that our behavioral selves and our biological selves will have similar reactions to stimulii.

as far back as i can remember, i have always felt similar to this, of course not in as much understanding as i do now, but i did realize that my behavior and my reactions were all very two-toned.

i never really liked this doctor, and always thought that his decision was hasty, but with the prodding of my very worried mother, and in complete honesty, my desperation, i willingly obliged and for about a year became a breathing zombie. now however, when i think about it, i cant help but think that this man must be a complete corporate sell out.

and this makes me glad i did not choose the iatry over the ology.

and it also put in me a naive diligence to never do it just for the money.

and, i hope some parts of me do stay this young.

songs for the burning soul

2011-02-24T21:14:00.004+08:00

feels like rain- buddy guy

brilliant disguise- bruce springsteen

4+20- crosby, still and nash

mans world- james brown

try a little tenderness- otis redding

send me some loving- sam cooke

i feel urgencies in my head like sirens. i take that it is time for changes.

but in the mean time, it soothes the blisters so do nothing on rainy thursday afternoons, but listen to old gold and wonder if i will learn how to stop the burning if i were a psychonaut.

: i realise i am a cog in something turning- join mitchell (woodstock) :

great old slice of me.

2011-02-18T04:02:00.003+08:00

so this man/boy once asked me to show him a piece of my writing. i told him he already read my blog. he said he wanted something that was really me. it was confusing, simply because this blog is how i wish to be portrayed to those who read it, him being one of 'those'.

but i scrummaged through a pile of shit to find some lame ass piece that i wrote about hate my body love my body shave my legs sing on stage bullshit. of course he wasn't mean about it, not so much because he was a gentleman, because he was (is) what i have only been able to reduce (and in a good way) to a perversely lovely human being. but i suppose he decided i had enough of brains otherwise to not have to be condemned by patronizing words, that im quite sure he thought.

whatever.

and we all go on our little self exploratory journeys. every time i do mine, its like flicking an ink loaded fountain pen that hasn't had the ink flow to the tip just yet. you pull your arm up towards your head, with a slightly limp wrist and elbow, and then whip your arm forward, forcing the intensity from the movement of your shoulder to travel up to your pen and force the ink to a splat of a shiny black rorsarch mark on the floor. and however similar your moment of force is, the drops of ink are just never formed the same.

and i find this self exploratory tiresome and futile. i change to much, and too much of me stays the same. i would age years in months if i tried too had to keep up.

im not into the whole love yourself movement, because that is just conceited as shit (and i'd like that to be said in a southern american accent, just for emphasis).

i think im more of the type that says, " this is me, man. what the fuck am i supposed to do about it?"

fuck yeah im quiet most of the time. and yeah thats because i suck at making conversation. i like it better when i have to listen and give the occasional remark. unless of course you piss me off about something i feel about at which point i will perhaps get intolerant of your beliefs.

fuck yeah, i beat my foot in once, just to get out of trouble in school. it hurt like crazy, and i felt deluded and very confused as to why i was inflicting harm upon myself, even thought i knew exactly why.

and yes, i wear glitter nail polish, well aware that im in my twenties. i also still live with my parents, sometimes don't have baths for two days at a time, and i have a slight problem with spending all my money.

also, if i like you, i wont ever tell that to you straight, unless you give me no other option. and if i like you, its likely im more quiet around you, because i suppose intuitively i want to know more about you, because there's barely anything interesting about me except the fact that this year my birthday is 11/11/11 and that i have a fourth cut on my little finger on my right hand, and i hate people who call it a 'pinkie'.

also, i like the occasional confrontation. my mom should have let me take up boxing when i asked her to let me when i was in school, and i resent her for telling me its a boys sport. also, i support homosexual, transgender and transsexual groups with a passion. i abhor those who follow religion intentionally being ignorant to reason.

i also understand, as i grow, that i am also becoming intolerant to a lot of opposite opinions. i realize that it is as cruel to judge people on their choice of music as it is to judge them on their economic backgrounds.

i do still believe time travel is theoretically possible. it makes way too much sense in my head. i am largely pedantic. i am figuring that my grudges, are in fact, not my children, or anyone elses, so any need to nurture them is foolish an time consuming.

i got my first true brazilian done a couple of weeks ago, and i wasn't nervous, i didn't cancel the appointment, the chocolate scented wax was devine, and it didn't hurt as much as i anticipated, and i am proud. also, i spend too much time on the internet. and perhaps blog way too often than is probably required since NONE of it is EVER cathartic. just aspirations of being empty i suppose, which is a contradiction and hypocrisy in itself, since im always insisting to myself and those around me that i have nothing really going on, while i somehow am able to write loquaciously.

you know what?

point is i'm me, and hell, i hate a lot of it.

but what the fuck am i going to do.

nothin' buddy (southern accent on again, please)

just write about it.

just a little bit of the ol'bottle just make it come smoother, you know what im talkin about, pumpkin?

(accent off).

take that true blood.

2011-02-17T15:12:00.006+08:00

so. this isn't supposed to be funny, because well, i don't do well with writing humor, usually falls flat on my face (like people relating cha cha to be an uncle when actually i was talking about my vagina). but anyhow.

about a year after i shifted to singapore, i had gone out to a club, i think it was china one, with a couple of my friends. it was nice, fun, me being me, standing at the bar with my drink, self consciously just shifting around, trying to imitate a dance (obviously i hadn't had enough to drink, and im sure those who know me would vouch that this is how all my nights begin, but never end. i digress). this guy comes up to me, im guessing he was malay, and tried to chat me up. he wasn't my type from first glance, but i can appreciate the effort. its not easy to just go up to a stranger at a bar and talk to them, i get that, and he didn't seem creepy, so i just very politely told him im from India when he asked me, and said i enjoyed china one when he asked me, and told him no im a student when he asked me. and three questions in, he came in really close to my face and said, in the most seductive (read: fucking creepy!) way he could have possibly gathered "i wish you were a vampire" and then turned around sharply and walked away.

needless to say i was a little rattled, not really sure if i should feel secure that im not, or to to carry a clove of garlic on my way home.

i never saw the guy again. thankfully.

a couple of days ago, i was browsing the sales at GAP (holler for sales), and i ask this (obviously gay) chinese sales assistant if they had the shirt i wanted in red. he very sweetly asked me if i'd wait until he got a piece from the storage, and i hung around looking at other stuff i was too poor to buy. when he came back with the red piece, already sure of my size, i just held it against me and looked into the mirror, with the (gay) sales assistant behind me. looking at my reflection approvingly, he says, with his hips tilted forward, and that right foot out, knee bent, and hands on hips, "da red soot yu. yu luk like vampire lah hahahahahahaha!"

jesus.

this shit is too weird for me.

for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf

2011-02-17T09:21:00.004+08:00

the curse has been broken, i have watched a movie. and i cried. yes.

for colored girls, directed by tyler perry, with a stellar star cast of whoopi goldberg, kerry washington, anika noni rose, thandie newton, loretta devine, janet jackson, phylicia rashad, kimberly elise, tessa thompson and macy gray.

while i must, in all honesty, only rate the movie, as an artistic endeavor, a 6/10. i haven't read the collection of poems it is based on i understand clearly that the emotion of poetry, let alone prose, must be a massive struggle to depict through acted actions.

but to leave aside the technique, or composition of the script, or the small loops, and truly enter the movie, not as an artistic endeavor, but as a message, it ran straight through my heart.

as i mentioned, this movie was based on the 20 part poem by Ntozake Shange, which was made into a successful broadway play, called "for colored girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf"

i really don't know how to get into describing it, or how i feel about it. to me, it didn't feel like a message to colored people, to even specifically to women. to me it felt like a point, a message to anyone.

i would rarely recommend a movie that scored less than 7/10. this one, however, i urge anyone to watch, if just for the message, if just for the point.

for the last two days i have been left with it ringing in my ears, and i can not wait to get my hands on the poem.

silver skinned

2011-02-15T04:23:00.003+08:00

i wish i could lose myself in some vague and irrational, possessing belief, instead of being so wrapped up in unwrapping the many layers that i believe consist everything. maybe, infact, that is my vague and irrational, possessing belief; that everything is made up of superficial layers.

if i could just be engulfed in complete and absolute thought, maybe i could being alone wouldn't feel as bad as it does good.

i find it truly difficult to sustain social interaction, even the minimum.

it makes me nauseous and nervous.

sometimes i believe i dumb down to survive, evolutionary instinct.

or just plan paths to crazy.

Allen.

2011-02-07T17:33:00.002+08:00

and i connect as he wrote his words, and encouraged me to not say what i should, but what i thought, in those words, and in only those.

to be unafraid for what mother thought, what father would say, how brother would be influenced and how she may be condemned from society.

but society had already condemned and thus he opened small corridors of her mind and promised that what she had to lose, she could afford to,

for what she held on to had less importance than what she longed to reach to.

and with filthy skins and fitly crevices, she herself could barely bare to look at,

with long thick fingers and bushy brows, and unpopped pills, and toxic blood, and bottles of colors and boxes of feet,

pumping constantly into heart of heart of roads that eventually lead her away into nowhere,

she picked up the pen to imitate, not his style, but his soul.

"we're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive.

we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed and hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset.

spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-down vision."

Allen Ginsberg.

exile.

2011-01-30T14:10:00.002+08:00

i toy with the idea of complete and utter exile; to walk away from my life as it is, and rebuild it in whatever way falls into place. i fantasize about leaving my house and my family, my man, and my friends, my technology and my shoe closet. i fantasize about letting go of everything i have known, and walking away into something i truly make for myself. i want to forget biological function and evolutionary instinct, i don't want to be influenced by darwinism or creationism. i want to move away from what i am supposed to do and move in to a self dimension of pure self, unaffected by past, created as if adam.

but i don't like it, if i cant live like that, if my survival instinct is stronger than my hormonal imbalances, will everything be waiting for me when i come back, or do i stand to lose everything?

i stand to lose everything.

but i cant help but fantasize that maybe this is a risk i must take.

money for your time.

2011-01-28T04:40:00.002+08:00

her eyes darted from my face to my hands, from my face to my hands, to the position of my legs, back to my face and ever so often to my shoulders and my hands.

i shift uncomfortably for i know she is working at looking straight into me. i do not enjoy knowing this.

and i allow her because i long for the catharsis 50 minutes and too much money promises to promise.

but each time my long and highly paused sentences allow my gaze to disconnect from nowhere in space, and back to her eyes,

i realize that she is never, truly looking back into them, rather just at them;

at the rise and fall of my eyebrows, the breaths of my pupils and where i squirm, and where i don't clasp my arms tight, and where i prefer to move forward and speak.

i do not appreciate being read.

you do not need to know more than i tell you.

corporations.

2011-01-19T12:38:00.002+08:00

its fascinating to watch it all fall to pieces. so ugly, its hard to watch, but its harder to look away. i wake up, again, every morning, with these shards in my system, and i feel them. i almost am unbelieving that they are tearing up everything i fought for, without a thought. and now i feel as if i have lost any will to rebuild. i don't understand what it is they want from me. but if they let me down, i will not give them my time, my money or any part of myself.

everything must not happen to just one person.

my dreams have collapsed like the tent that lost its pole.

Percolate

2011-01-17T00:46:00.004+08:00

its not that pictures say more. they just say something else. like;

true love is size 40,

or, sometimes the only way to shut me up is to kiss me.

or, that everyone believed in magic,

or, i want you,

or, doe eyed charms earn biscuits,

or, i'll cushion your fall, somehow,

or, the river that wept through my head, tore his heart to pieces.

thing is, i may chose my form,

but i will always have so much more i need to say.

solitary.

2011-01-13T20:15:00.002+08:00

to respect my fathers unreasonable need to stay connected to random people in the family that we had never met before, my brother and i met an old man from bombay, who had spent most of his life in Berlin. on leaving, the man came up to me and said almost pleadingly "when your heart it full, open it."

it took all of my will power self control to not desperately ask him back, "but to who?"

metamorph.

2011-01-07T02:31:00.003+08:00

maybe i should just leave and not come back for a few years. frankly, enthusiasm to try exhausts me. all too often i feel more adept to be a tree, or a rock, social contact unnecessary, and avoidable. i find myself craving to fall into and be swollen by something larger than my mind.

there is a chinese curse; may you live in interesting times. there is a following curse; may you find what you are looking for.

one day i'll find the perfect expression.

and then, i'll turn into a tree, i'll live for a million years and then turn to stone.

maybe then, vast spaces of peace.

Afterglow

2011-01-04T22:22:00.004+08:00

my afterglow made me shiver in the shower

it made my large hands tremble

as if i had much more to look forward to.

my afterglow gave me higher power

but when it left, it did like a married man for his wife.

and i crumble in the corner and stare

wide eyed and bushy tailed,

at my hands, and wonder with genuine curiosity

where the spark from my hands

suddenly vanished to.

keep it simple, keep it real.

2011-01-02T16:04:00.003+08:00

being back home makes me very nostalgic, its physically makes me curl with the way repressed memories come flowing out. and each time im here, i rummage through all my drawers and cabinets, almost as if im trying to piece together my past to remember what makes me so nauseous in remembering it so. today i found one (of way too many) singular scrap of paper on which i had made a new years resolution list. the date on it goes back to 2003.

have to stop:

1. being quirky

2. being too talkative

3. being silly

4. being immature

5. being too open with people

6. smiling too wide

7. acting wild.

8. singing loudly when people are around because i suck

9. crying all the time

10. talking rubbish

11. watching too much television.

12. using my mouth to express myself.

13. laughing too loudly

14. retaliating

15. putting on too much make up.

have to start:

1. being more quiet.

2. using my eyes, not my mouth.

3. act more mature

4. write more

5. talk to god

6. question everything, even myself.

7. being less sure of myself.

8. say hello softer on the phone.

9. listen more.

10. be more tolerant.

11. be patient.

12. think deep.

im amused with the great shift between me in 2003 and me in 2011. the items on this list are so simple and still somehow profound. but also, it is so controlling. i have never been able to be comfortable with a complete release of myself, and while after this trip to Goa, i have wanted to do just that more than anything, i suppose that maybe this is just the way i have packed myself. it was always a choice and i chose.

thing is, it was black and white back then, and simpler than i would have ever allowed myself to believe. so now when i begin to see spectrums of color between the aforementioned monochromatic, i figure, keep it simple, but keep it real. i want to do things on my own terms now.

this year, my new years resolution: Learn Italian

crystal courage.

2010-12-31T22:03:00.003+08:00

crystal courage turns my world inside out and strips away the crusty surfaces.

and now,

when the crystal seeps out and the armor slips back on again

i feel dungeonous.

to go back now, to what i am rather, than who,

feels like within me there is too much conflict to ever leave by anyones hand,

but my own.

The Emotion of Exhaustion is None At All

2010-12-17T20:40:00.003+08:00

as if i have been recalled

from breathlessness,

i sit as numb as

diabetic legs

for such lengths

to decay, within, any

understanding of longing.

vicious warm smells

drift above and

leave with deadened

senses and

a burning brain

Pleasure.

2010-12-15T05:21:00.002+08:00

and all my words, and my half warm theories,

the line from which i wish to jump

and my self made mind,

to my saturated heart,

i find obsession that, versus intelligence,

is condemning and like

an exact god, without mercy

but, still, reattributing.

i must reiterate to my

won true self

how,

if i wish to possess motion,

i must also possess pleasure.

reinforcement is in order, of course!

2010-12-13T10:35:00.004+08:00

i enjoy, greatly, how this course has pushed me to constantly reevaluate so many ideas, theories and morals. its given me this very new age, and yet old school, insight into analyzing. i fear to compare it with shopping, but it very much like it. you have these amazing amounts of theories ranging from fuck crazy to stark raving mad, and everything in between, and you get to figure out how you want to wear what. i love how psychology never tells you anything straight up, youre not forced in to believing anything. rather, your given the opportunity to construct your own opinion, your own personal philosophy.

what i have gained from this is a few extraordinarily simple points. perception is not truth, nothing is consistent, and you are not ever completely bound by what you do. this subject has forced me to critically evaluate everything i once thought was concrete. it turns out, nothing is every wrong, but nothing is ever right either; and who you choose to be depends on how you choose to see.

i believe that psychology has healed me in ways shrinks couldnt. i believe that it has been my only reason for growth.

its silly how i constantly apply human qualities to a mere subject, but i do feel comforted by it, and i feel ridiculously anxious by it.

i remember when i was probably in the 7th or 8th grade, my mum explained very briefly "psychology is studying to understand why people behave the way they do." and while i was dead set on literature for the longest time, the prospect of psychology always lingered. the moment i figured that literature just wasnt going to cut it, i knew exactly where i had to be, and now im here.

so its my last week of official school, my last exams for my under grad. its been tough, and the las minute studying i have constantly provided myself with is now producing fever and random burning sensations on my skin, that i tried to diagnose and ended up with herpes, neural disorder, bronchitis, meningitis and mercury consumption, so it would thus lead me to believe that i am just suffering from a case of pre-exam anxiety. also im dog gone tired.

its been a rough three years, but im pretty sure im coming out all the wise.

at 23 and all, at least i really did it!

woo hoo for me.

Horndogs.

2010-12-09T11:23:00.004+08:00

so, while adventurously trolling the wonderful world wide web, i found this chat channel, Omegle.com, where you chat anonymously with other anonymous people. and i had a few fun conversations, but most were just horny people. for example,

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: tell me how you'll eat me out

You: with a spoon and a fork.

Stranger: hey. hey fuck you.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

that chat could have been fun!

but its obviously not very hard to piss a horny person off.

big boots.

2010-12-04T21:25:00.003+08:00

just the idea of having to leave the house exhausts me. at this point ive surpassed feeling tired. its no longer just phisological now. this exhaustion is an emotion that builds up quickly, and fades, and build again, like waves constantly crashing into me.

i havent really had it sink in yet, that this is the last month. These are the last assignments, the last exams, he last presentation. This is the final month before i actually finish my degree. finally. at 23. i could have done worse. i have done worse.

i anticipate, nervously, but anticipate anyhow, the years that will follow this first accomplishment. i could do way more than i believe, i know that somehow.

for now, i need to haul ass and prepare to hardcore another saturday night.

i love you, liver, but i gotsta do what i gotsta do.

its all good if you first learn to crawl, i suppose.

me and my chacha

2010-11-30T16:39:00.005+08:00

i have very reformed and (self proclaimed) radical morals and principals.

but when in comes down to some stuff, you can be damn sure im an old fashioned girl, yes i am!

like today.

i do not like to have my pants down, my legs spread awkwardly with my chacha on display, in a brightly lit clinic with two chinese ladies pushing and prodding me where, well, i shouldnt be pushed and prodded, not by two chinese ladies!

tell me im stuck in the middle ages, but i dont think anyone should see me naked unless i plan to have sex with them. and i cant seem to say this enough, but i dont want to have sex with chinese ladies!

its horrible!

evolutionarily my body went into overdrive.

my netherland, exposed to two women. madly vulnerable! if i am a threat to them they can render me without baby giving organs if they want to and render me a lesser suitable mate!

oh no!

my combat instincts went into overdrive.

if they want to hurt me and take my wallet (which contains numerous coupon cards and a little over 20$ and a picture of kurt cobain) they totally can!

Run away!!

my moral instincts went into overdrive.

this is not right. this is just not right.

I feel used!

and basically, I DONT WANT CHINESE LADIES TO BE PEERING AWAY AT MY CHACHA!!

geeez.

im not having a good day.

plus, those chinese ladies, they also have my self respect.

damn.

23

2010-11-12T00:47:00.002+08:00

it must be three years ago, to the month.

i was at the library, writing up an essay on sensory perception, a month before i had to hand it in, when i was madly motivated.

i would go to the library everyday almost, and sit there from noon until closing time at 8, reading and researching anything and everything.

one afternoon, after i got there, plugged my laptop in, connected to the net, gathered the necessary books and finally settled down to begin work, i noticed an old man across from me. he was easily in his eighties, well dressed enough to make his wrinkles look dignified, with a slightly mad look in his eye, and terribly fidgety. he had a paper in front of him and books unopened to his side. the chinese kids on the table looked at him with stigma and moved to another table. i remember seeing him notice it clearly, but somehow he did not seem to care.

i began my work, and barely noticed him bent over a notepad, with a shaky pen in between his fingers. a while later, from the corner of my eye i saw him take a scale, place it against the paper and tear it at the edge. he then leaned across the table, fully catching my eye, and pushed the folded paper toward me and said, out of a crazy concern, "why are you in the library! go out and play!" taken aback by this clear eyed old man, i had no words to reply. he didnt seem to want one, and walked away, gingerly on his old knobby legs.

something about the way he looked in at me made my heart race, and i felt nervous as i reached over to open the note he had left me.

"The Moving Finger Write.... your Life

And having writ, moves On

All your Tears and all your Prayers

Will not Change a Jot of It!

So Live For Today!!!

What is Life!!"

his words have been tightly wrapped around me since.

mornin' moanin'

2010-11-05T21:41:00.003+08:00

i had a dream this morning before i woke up.

there was this boy i do know, who's proximity made me feel feverish, and he was there.

he helped me fill up a pool in the winter.

and inside that dream my heart was crushed by the madness of longing for him.

when i wake up, though, im not supposed to care.

but when my eyes did open, i was left behind with dregs of that emotion,

and i spent the whole of today pining over something that never happened.

i have always disliked waking up with magnified emotions.

they are devious, and tricky to shake off.

sigh.

2010-11-01T12:54:00.002+08:00

http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive.php?comicid=1384

ergo.

2010-10-29T17:25:00.003+08:00

when im falling asleep, i think about years that have gone by, walking down buck-tooth boulevard. and i trip, wake up and then fall deeply into sleep. so deep that even when i ask myself "is this a dream?" and try to wake myself up, i cant. and it is all i need to believe that i am awake. my dreams have begun to envelop me so entirely.

even during the awake, i find myself suddenly anxious, feeling too surreal to be real, cautiously pinching myself.

maybe my mind is forcing blurred lines.

sometimes balances arent healthy. when two seperate tings begin to be more similar, you forget what individulality is.

sometimes, Descartes is the only man you may rely on .

too poo.

2010-10-28T20:41:00.003+08:00

from the last time i wrote up to now, i have about 10 drafts of stupid material that spewed out of these ape hands and then sounded like poop.

but.

heres a blog i found recently, and im linking you to a post that i feel insanely emotionally connected to. i dont know who the hell this chick is, who write it, but i sure as hell want to hang out with her.

yes. maybe i have found a new hero.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/10/god-of-cake.html

ok, and what else about my life? nothing.

the last week has been sensational, in a really bad way.

until last night, i had such a buttload of work to finish in a very small amount of time, and being the owl-girl that i am, only managed to get shut eye after sunrise, and i'd have to be up soon after.

i also slept through a meeting with my supervisor. I woke up half an hour after i was supposed to meet him and left the house in record time. i literally jumped out of bed and into my jeans. i did also contemplate skipping the brushing of teeth part. but since i wasnt going to have a bath, thought it would be pleasant if there was one part of my body that wasnt stinking.

days have been far too long, but still not long enough somehow.

anyhow, im glad that little stint is done, and i look forward to doing fuck all until next monday, thats when i'm going to have to start cramming like a crazy person again. i really dont know why people complain about their office jobs. most of them come home, watch tv, have dinner with their families, soemtimes go get a game of tennis or golf, mid week mind you, and then hit the sack at 10 30ish, and tell me, when i complain about school, "if you think this is hard, wait until you start working". shut the fuck up you sons of bitches. i dont even get weekends off without regretting it later.

sigh. too much aggression.

and also. too much detail about my life that really doesnt need to be published online.

but yeah.

point of blog post- read the blog i linked you too.

please.

an apologies for mindless rambling.

its what im doing these days.

(oh and also trying to use profanity less, and as my mother puts it, eat like a lady.)

2010-10-20T23:20:00.001+08:00

Human beings never think for themselves, they find it too uncomfortable. For the most part, members of our species simply repeat what they are told--and become upset if they are exposed to any different view. The characteristic human trait is not awareness but conformity, and the characteristic result is religious warfare. Other animals fight for territory or food; but, uniquely in the animal kingdom, human beings fight for their 'beliefs.' The reason is that beliefs guide behavior, which has evolutionary importance among human beings. But at a time when our behavior may well lead us to extinction, I see no reason to assume we have any awareness at all. We are stubborn, self-destructive conformists. Any other view of our species is just a self-congratulatory delusion.

-Michael Crichton, The Lost World

big girl things.

2010-10-16T14:27:00.001+08:00

for the first time, since ive known you, since i was 16, you called and i did not feel an electrical storm inside my stomach.

im doing big girl things now.

obviously.

cause i like naughty poetry

2010-10-15T04:40:00.002+08:00

the boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind
they do whatever's in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

e. e. cummings

white light.

2010-10-12T02:59:00.004+08:00

sometimes i am blind. i get so consumed with looking within myself that i forget to open my eyes to whats right in front. and when i do the brightness and sharpness first frighten me, and then surprise me, pleasantly. i forget the world has corners and hinges. in my head everything somehow moulds together and seeps gently in and out of each other. but here, every object is so individual and different, and defined.

so i make an effort to stop everything sometimes, and take a good look around. see the walls and the lights, feel the way the air is breathing and the temperature, run my fingers over the edges of the desk and the windows, and i smell any wafts in the air.

i get so lost in my own selfish thoughts sometimes that i forget to look up and figure exactly how fascinating the world is.

climb.

2010-10-11T19:04:00.003+08:00

the first couple of days back in singapore, after an exhaustive trip to india, is downright melancholic. i sit in the empty house, with no concrete plans for meeting up with old friends, or intoxication, or a hearty indian meal with butter naan.

but this has become home, surely. this time, for the first time, india seemed liked the strange place. so many places that i hadnt been too, so many people i had no clue about, even billboards looked so much more extravagant than before. come back here this morning, i had this odd sense of easy, that i usually feel landing in mumbai. but, no. its been four years, and this island, with my distaste for it, and my depression within in, it has become what one would call home, for the sake of familiarity and consistence.

but it is very hard to acclimatize back into the life i live here, more introverted, but far from timid, more alone, but so much more courage. but the thought of waking up and not having to option to catch a rick to V's place, or a train over the weekend to spend time with sriki and john, or coffee with abhi and jim, or yards of girl talk with fra, or just hanging with my brother, driving randomly through pune. i miss all these things immensely. i put such emphasis on the few relationships i have chosen to maintain, that after having them, the loss of them (be it temporary) is debilitating.

nevertheless, it has become such a habit, this good bye nonsense, that i find it hard to extract one tear, even though my insides are going through the heart-wrenching-est disney movie part where mustafa dies. my physiological body doesnt seem to understand the need for expression after the third time, "youve done it a million times before. im not letting you waste another ounce of your bodily fluids", while my head is begging for some sort of vent, believing it actually may make me feel better.

oh well, us and our idiosyncrasies.

i do hope the next two months do not fly by. i have a pile of work i need to get busy with, plus alot of discussion and decisions as to my break next year, and november will be busy with people coming and going and me turning 23 when i still feel like i should be 19. december will be a whirlwind of last minute everything, dissertation submission, assignment submission, exam prep, packing, planning, partying, and finally leaving to go back to india, where sunburn will await my delicious arrival, in what i hope will be me minus the "baby-fat" and dark eye rings; and so on to new years with those i love best and a brand new year promising that i DID in fact finish my graduation within the decade, and more importantly, that i did FINISH it.

every year i promise, P-R-O-M-I-S-E, that no year has gone by as fast. thing is, fuck that. through all my anxiety, my new understanding of the transparency of life and the uselessness of it, through laborious nights that barely fill a page, through my threats of giving up and resorting to alcohol poisoning, let alone dependance,

i now know this;

that the best days are yet to come.

The Look

2010-10-11T17:20:00.001+08:00

Strephon kissed me in the spring,

Robin in the fall,

But Colin only looked at me

And never kissed at all.

Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,

Robin's lost in play,

But the kiss in Colin's eyes

Haunts me night and day

BY SARA TEASDALE

2010-10-05T20:20:00.001+08:00

I love the way food demands silence.

Autonomy

2010-09-26T05:04:00.004+08:00

im back in the motherland.

i spent a couple of days in bombay with John and Sriki, and it was perfect. Pune has been nice so far, no exertion, no tension. Tomorrow, i head to calcutta. i look forward to it.

and then back here.

i feel good to be with my three. its calm, while there is predictability, the gaps we leave in between provide a little torridity.

john and i proved the 75% rock-paper-scissor theory.

it states that people who are familiar with each other will tie 75% of the game. john and i got four out of five.

i think the point is, im not a peoples person, im not good with small talk, not good with meeting new people. but with these three, somehow i fall into comfy little, safe pockets of security and contentment. im more easy than not, less defensive and somehow so much more tolerant. i adore them. and im so certain of the hands that will catch me and the mouths that will laugh with or at me. my friends are A for Awesome. really.

i leave for the air port in about an hour an a half, i have a suitcase to pack and i would definitely need a shower.

the dusty pune air, its autumn approaching. the smells of pune are smells of seasons.

it was a beautiful time growing up in this city.

but like i told V, the best years are still ahead.

its always good to have something to fight for.

we're all twisted enough to end up enjoying the struggle.

plastic brides. whats next.

2010-09-18T16:43:00.004+08:00

what in the world...?

what the FUCK has happened to the world?

is this what we must resort to?

tsk, tsk, tsk. i am disappointed-er and disappointed-er.

i absolutely refuse to believe that this is as creative as we can possibly get.

and you know what, women need to stop making such a big fucking deal about liberation if all they end up doing is going against everything thats being fought for.

easylie.

2010-09-16T20:09:00.003+08:00

there was a boy who became a man,

and while his skin turned hard and

his flesh to mere muscle

and the angle of his tilt and the cross of his arms

varied and evolved,

i sat in corners,

and then walked home with other men;

while i rested my maternal hands over his eyes,

so he sees not what i do.

but, I with two hands, least could not prevent

sounds from being color.

would it be appropriate to go for a funeral with just your middle finger nails painted bright blue?

2010-09-16T15:25:00.002+08:00

while no one is really "good with death" per se, i think i have been able to deal with it alright, in the times it has occurred to people in my life. what i am goddamnit awful with, is dealing with grieving people. im so bloody awful at it, to the extent that i even somehow skip the whole "im sorry for your loss" part and run straight in for "hey, hows it going? the food looks good." and yes i am well aware that that is rude.

but i truly am at a loss in those situations. im not sure i should apologize because, geez! i didnt kill your grandpa, but i do wish you weren't feeling that bad, but if you weren't that would mean you didnt really love him so it wouldn't hurt if i asked you if you wanted to get a couple of beers after this whole shebang is over.

oh praise the good lord, woman!!

you think they have those etiquette classes where they teach you how to deal with people with dead relatives?

or maybe, on second thought, another helping of sensitivity couldn't hurt either, right.

right.

oh well.

Carousel

2010-09-13T22:42:00.002+08:00

i belong in silent worlds where my lips sparkle.

i belong among colors moving carousel, just me and i'll stay there.

or hanging at the fall of the creek, drips away from harsh water.

simply, in the rise and fall of the sun, just as i breathe.

maybe i am where the ink splatters.

if i have lost my reason, will you come to follow?

if i leave, will you stay behind,

and still always be mine.

huh? what the fucks man?

2010-09-13T12:02:00.003+08:00

you wanna know something i detest? of course you dont.

I absolutely hate it when:

you go in for an exam after cramming the night before, trying to shove whatever information you can into your sorry brain, you read the whole question paper and think "oh fucking shit" and then look up to see the rest of the class already feverishly scribbling away five page answers to questions you barely understand.

ah, the miserly of school.

every three months it forces me to evaluate why exactly im still studying, and why the fuck would i ever want to do this for the next 6 years?

so much for pedantic-isms?

right.

im just plain ol stupid jane.

i wish for peace to the families who hurt.

2010-09-11T13:54:00.002+08:00

people dismiss me being an atheist with:

1. bad childhood

2. emo punk teenager

3. ignorant.

how can you read the papers on any day, and not feel compelled to question your beliefs about god and religion? how can you believe in karma when, time and time again so much punishment just doesn't make any sense at all. what in the world is gods will? who is this god?

if he exists i say to him, fuck you. i refuse to be part of this blind cycle, a cycle that promises justice and never delivers, that promises hope but only kills in the name of faith, a cycle that forces children to lose their innocence and define themselves by the house of worship they go to.

people have been killed, over the years, in the name of god. from the pagans, to the Christians, to the Jews, the Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Parsis. and for what? what is the damn point? because this god that has held the world captive for centuries, he is lost on me.

if you read the papers on any day, or you have read some part of history, and you do not feel compelled to at least question you beliefs,

i think its you who is ignorant.

its you.

thoughts of a fundamentally idealist atheist

2010-09-10T23:06:00.003+08:00

i have grown to appreciate labels less and less. i dislike greatly how we are limited by genres and countries and colors and nationalities and religions. How could we be defined simply by the coincidence of our birth? how could we limit ourselves so minimally?

i cant even describe myself, how could i possess a label by which you can identify me?

i believe we are all so convolutedly different, each one of us possess something greater and worse than the next and there can be no definition. and simply through this realization, and this acceptance, we could be one.

strung together by a million, billion differences.

BURN BURN

2010-09-06T19:51:00.003+08:00

i know that to some, i've been sounding like Tony Hortons been paying me for advertising, but here i go again.

best way to burn off some serious steam? you know when youre pissed and got it all lodged in your veins your face is strawberry?

trust me.

Do 40 minutes of P90X+ Kenpo and youre good for the day.

i promise.

nothing is more violently stimulating and releasing than good ol' Kenpo.

really.

jacques be nimble, jacques be quick

2010-09-04T01:21:00.003+08:00

i find that often enough i fuel myself on stupid reasons, like im going to skip with the USB wire, because its long enough. or, maybe my chocolate body-wash tastes as good as it smells, because it smells so good. or lemon-wild cherry nerds can be lunch because they are tasty AND colorful.

see, the thing is, we all come up with excuses for anything, it just takes a shovel of creativity and a basic lack of things to do on a general basis. but i have not been able to figure out why, exactly, i am at an exalted loss of inspiration. is my life truly that unstimulated that all my ideas and words must remain bottled up, or rather caged in this very convoluted, but less so everyday, brain of mine?

sometimes i think i compensate my inability to tell stories with very long sentences.

i read somewhere, that 'they' are on 'their' way to link depression to creativity. yeah, that makes sense, of course. but the knowledge of that made me feel somehow abandoned by these 'them' that i talk about with an eerily eulogized familiarity. happy people write dont they? i asked my self, foolishly craving approval from myself, while actually craving it from my mother who never prided that i tried, and even if she does now, wont make a difference because i will constantly overanalyze and feel a tad bit worthless.

i replied, yeah, happy people write, alright. but are you happy?

shucks.

sometimes this limbo feel threateningly purgatory-ish.

Molasses

2010-08-31T04:37:00.002+08:00

i am shiny, dry lacquer, slathered in dust.

and my actions are not crisp, like charming men,

rather,

old and unpracticed, like trickling molasses.

i long for days of rain,

and still it doesn't wash off.

so i remain, dripping off palms,

and lips, and clavicles,

like dark, dusty molasses.

spring cleaning the chakras

2010-08-28T03:00:00.002+08:00

someone once told me, i am unable to draw a line between good and bad. now, of course, this did send me on a tirade of "what is good and what is bad?" blahblahnonsence.

but after years of detesting him for saying that, i realize he might have been right. i allow myself to blur the lines, perforate the lines, tear the lines and erase them completely, just for unreasonable wants and gimmes.

however, of late.

i have been feeling instilled with a catholic like guilt, and its like emotional colic.

how does one leave behind bad karma without having to admit?

or does a correction make up for a lie?

i wonder.

with and within.

2010-08-21T17:45:00.002+08:00

today the clouds were rainbow colored and only i could see that, through my brand new ray bans that make me feel very authoritarian.

there are somethings that make me feel very powerful,

like coffee, or jumping like a crazy monkey alone at the Prodigy gig,

like knowing something someone else doesnt,

and secrets,

like a mans hands between my thighs,

and cut off shorts with high heels,

or going for a very fast run at 2 am,

like being able to smile when i need very badly to cry very hard,

or being able to disguise my anger with tolerance,

or tequila,

or arguing for something i believe in strongly,

like very good hair days, an days my head doesnt hurt,

or being the only nerd who got a distinction,

better still, being the only geek who stumped the lecturer,

or tucking into a carls junior thick burger at the beach, with a side of chilli fries and coke,

or sometimes its just needs no reason.

i think its weird to see rainbows when no one else can.

but i feel good about it.

IBT

2010-08-19T03:15:00.002+08:00

there were these three people, who's brains worked similarly to each other, suspicious as that may be. they laughed a lot, snuck out to see each other a lot, were at one time the same height, and hung out extensively at music world. they played pointless games, and spoke for hours on the phone, and got mildly excited every time their school buses would cross paths. there was confusion and falling in love, but they remained, somehow, wonderfully tight. one would teach english, one would fix teeth and one would serve food. it seemed like enough. it really did.

i think its nice when you manage to reach that point where you actively choose to push aside all the bullshit and just remember what really counts.

blah schma

2010-08-16T13:52:00.001+08:00

tsk.

survey monkey wont let me put up Attitudes Towards Women Scale because of inappropriate language.

wtf.

tsk.

im tired.

Men and Their Secret Worlds.

2010-08-15T06:03:00.002+08:00

i want in to the secret world of men.

in these secret worlds, i believe, they harbor a multitude of things that they will never tell a female.

its like a twisted carnival, or so i think.

but i want in. i want to know about it.

i want to know how much they bend cultural morals.

how askew are their minds really?

i dont like how hollywood lies to you about men.

i wish they would just tell the truth so you dont feel defeated or cheated or mildly to fantastically confused when the silver screen fades to black.

the thing is i really want to know.

because now im just very bloody curious.

i dont want to judge. i just want to know what goes on inside those sick little male brains.

and if any man actually has the courage to tell it all, i can bet my ass it will be a million times more interesting than PMS.

half yearly favorites, in no particular order.

2010-08-14T18:35:00.004+08:00

1. hashpipe - Weezer

2. rocket - Goldfrapp

3. bad romance - 30 Seconds to Mars

4. bullet with butterfly wings - Smashing Pumpkins

5. uprising - Muse

6. sweet disposition - Temper Trap

7. list of demands - Saul Williams

8. the fiddle and the drum - Perfect Circle

9. treat me like your mother - Dead Weather

10. invaders must die - The Prodigy

ch-ch-ch-check it out, yo!

2010-08-10T11:45:00.011+08:00

this is the volcanic sunset at Tioman, Malaysia. same island South Pacific was shot on in 1958. March 2008.
i reckon this was our first practice dive at Tioman. i was nervous, but as i sank, while the sea bed was pretty barren, the silence and the blue that blossomed around me was madly calming. i am too a water baby.

At the Singapore Zoo. we were lucky we kept out heads craned. i love this shot so much, the baby orangutan looks like he's saying "holy shit!! holy SHIT!!!" and the mother is like "freaking paranoid monkey."

Also, a little fact. orangutan, doesnt mean orange monkey (like a friend very confidently proclaimed). in malay 'orang' means man and 'hutan' means forest, thus man of the forest. now, remember the book/movie a clockwork orange? well, anthony burgess wasnt talking about a well wound fruit. it was a play on the malay word 'orang'. clockwork man.

there you go, a story to tell at the zoo.

EDIT: ok, so apparently anthony burgess was talking about a fruit. HOWEVER, this orang-man thing was an interpretation of the book i had read when i was studying literature, so. oh well. no ones perfect.

every single time i see a hippopotamus (which is pretty regularly since im an unofficial guide to singapore (fucking irritating) tourist hot spots) i think of Mitch Hedburg: "is a hippopotamus really a hippopotamus, or is it just a cool-a-potamus?"

hahahahaha, never fails to crack me up!

DICK FACE!

'nuff said.

I wish this picture hadnt come out so grainy, the grees were delicious! also must not miss the croc lurking in the muddy waters.

LOVE the colors on this magnificent bird!! hes so cool i want to hang out with him!

this is the morning following Spains win at the world cup. it was around 6 am, we were on our way to the airport for breakfast and money change, and we had to change trains at Tanah Mehra. the sky was so pretty, it caught me well by surprise. i also really like the very lace-like silhouette of the cranes against the orange to blue sky.

This was taken earlier in the year at a friends wedding. after a very quaint and beautiful marriage ceremony, the bride and groom gave out to the guests pieces of paper on which to write a wish for ourselves and a wish for the newly weds, and each paper was stuck on a balloon. i got this shot just before we all released the wish balloons. that was a very lovely day.

my extra large hands, my extra large fingers, my blue nails, my wrist, my beads.

this is ludwig. ludwig is my dog. i do not like picking up his poo. but i love him madly.

this is shady, shes a rascal of a dog. chick is WHACK out of her mind. but ive seen her since the day V brought her home, when she would let me play with her and cuddle her for hours without trying to claw me, ruin my clothes or take a snap at my face. well, i love her anyhow.

this is ale-HAAN-dro. he is a latin lover.

this is yours truly. at a lily pad pond. i very seriously considered trying to sit on one to take a "meditating on lily pad" pose (as jim also very seriously suggested). but like i said to him too, what to do? too much junk in the trunk.

fire rain in singapore.

and this, well when farrah and i saw this guy, i thought it, but she said it; "look! srikant! spraaad your laaagss!!!"

hahahahah!

supremacy.

2010-08-03T03:19:00.004+08:00

i could have never been a woman at any point of time in history (unless we're talking about the 60s and the 70's, count me in as anything, man woman trasngender whatever!). but women have been fucking trampled on throughout history, not like its all hunky dory now. but all moral and feminist issues aside, if i could, well, hypothetically choose my past life, no way would i be a woman. Nope nope nope nope.

and you want to come back with a feminist rant, go ahead. im ALL for womens rights and equal treatment. but if there is one thing i have learnt is that men and women are NOT equal. i mean come on, guys have dicks, chick have tits, they are generally stronger, we have bigger brains, they are emotionally retarded, women cant understand machinery, blah blah blah. sure, go ahead blast me about being stereotypical, but these are generalised facts. fact is not a steroetype.

but my point is, while men and women are not equal, its NOT about equality, its about tolerance and compromise and working together, allowance to expand and not be held down by cultural beliefs.

oh whatever.

i would hate to be a woman in my past life. im not one for oppression or no voting and all that other bullshit we were constantly subject too. if i have a past life i want to be a man.

should i make heads a little hotter?

add 'white'.

hah!