Alma Mater(s?)

For someone who felt like she never belonged .... I don't understand why I feel like I have left...

Stranger still is this big lump in my throat

Perfect Harmony

So I realize ...

I write bad poetry ... really bad poetry

When I sing I sound like four and a half pigs being tortured in an iron maiden ... filled with hot oil ... and an amplifier

I am tone deaf

and I usually have too severely affected a throat to hum clearly

If I were in a choir ... I'd sing falsetto (talk about short lived carriers)

... ah well, such is life...

I also can't get myself to sleep ...

Dying Roses...

... do not have powers of prophecy but are an absolute delight in warm bathwater

:)

Chaos

And we froze all action ... like leaving things unchanged would bring back moments.
Used glasses ... worn clothes ... a tall orchid plant inconveniently placed ...

It was like riding a bike ... going forth with the thrust of a wind that pushed you forward on a downward slope...

... tomorrow we'll level the pedal ... jump on to a seat thats higher than ideal ... and this time ... we remember to keep pedaling and not lose balance...

Another ditch in the road ... you keep moving ... another stop sign ... you keep moving on ...


This time I'll stop being involved in the Brownian motion of people and feelings around me. Should I be the root cause of entrophy ... steading myself should cure it ... shouldn't it?

Also ... here are the "default" answers as of today:
years
handshakes
retail affection
conviction
static noise
bruising
unnecessary distance
dreams
athena

Of common sense, bad poetry and subtle threats

Someday we'll look at all of this and laugh ... so why not laugh now right?

Must I wait ...?
for two thousand and eight?
Curse my fate?
Berate?

... and write bad poetry until then?

tsk tsk ... I'm going out in the early morning sun...

Note to My Life/ Reality:

... here is some kite and here is some string...

Come to me when you're ready to talk or make a deal.

You'll know where to find me (as always).

Decisions ... decisions...

years or moments?
hugs or handshakes?
wholesale love or retail affection?
confusion or conviction?
silence or static noise?
bruising or blushing?
unnecessary distance or embracing arms?
dreams or delusions?
athena or aphrodite?

vhat wantage?

However hard opportunity might be to spot when you meet with it face to face, you can never miss it looking at it from the back ... it looks like a swift kick in the butt, self-inflicted... followed by four hours of moping...

Congratulations on your achievement Dorothy

This is as much yours as it is mine... because.....

.... you walked these paths with me in my heart ... dragging your feet, with your nose in the air, gasping, cooing, smiling and being happy in the sun

... listened to me rant

... made disappointments seem trivial

... cribbed remotely

... shared my victories

... made classes seem interesting just by your curiosity

... and because now that its over ... along with me you too, sigh :)

I love you baby girl.

Why not?

"Maybe a more pertinent question than “How did it all begin?” is “Why am I conditioned to believe in a system of beginning and ending?”

in my opinion... it helps ...
in my life however ... I realize nothing really begins or ends ... things just blend ... one into another ... no distinct borders ... all fuzzy boundaries ... but then again ... does it have to be one or the other? Or in that seqeunce?

skyline boulevard

Today I realized that God is a hopeless romantic .... an absolute sucker for romance if there ever was one ... I'll have to admit I am surprised ... surprised I hadn't noticed ...
Suddenly I fell in love with Him again.

Conversations in the fog

How about a memory?
For keepsakes?

Bend over and kiss me,
close in on the space.

That glow over there is a streetlight
That road over there leads to a really pretty place
but wait, this moment is now or never
let me again, see that smile on your face

Is it coincidence that all I can see is you?
And is it chance that all you see is me?
and the mist and fog swirls around us
... lets just you be you and me be me ...

The city is past the mist yonder ...
... and the other side has beauty untold
We may never come here after ...
Go on ... pucker up ... be bold!

(I'll finish this some other day ... when the conversation is complete)

June 7th, 2007 1:06am

I stare at the sights before me.
I see bits of reality... some in clear light, some in shadow ...
Colours spanning gaudy golds to demure gray.
Some of what lies in the light doesn't look pretty,
Some shine bright and clear as day.
The dark, as always, scares me.
But I look around me .... and I see a million ways...

I breathe in deep ... "It's okay."

"This is where I am. This is what I have to do."

Remembering peaks conquered,
Dusting my butt from the times I trip and fall.
Being happy hereafter,
Breathing easy ... standing tall.

I clean the dust off my glasses,
Push stray curls out of my face.
I roll my sleeves past my elbows,
I set my jaw like Dorothy sez.

"What I have to make, I make with this and I start now."

I am alone, but it's okay.

Waiting to exhale ...

"Life in America is so easy!".... "I think people foresake the feeling of being home because of the comforts there are here".... "You should think of settling down here, in fact, there is this really nice boy I know who works in the software industry, he's Nair too, just like you".... "the air here is so clean".... "oh don't worry, it will be recycled" .... "its okay to throw food away, its cheap" .... "look at this, you can choose where to sit and the local trains in bombay!! ufff!!" .... "So is Bombay stinkier than the last time I was there?" .... "Anisha is it. Oh thats lovely, I used to be ShreeVidya but now I just tell folks to call me Shelly, its easier you know" ....

Subtle Hint

Yo!!

I'll be expecting a call ...

Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside... :)

I love you for your straight faced practicality ...
not to mention how you indulge me... :)

M: I am thinking murder
G: MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

will require major planning but can be done

Mixed Singles

Prelude

I miss you. Irrespective of all the stuff I said on the train...

We still take our walks ... somehow we don't talk much anymore ... we don't even pretend talk anymore...

You said it will hurt, I never said it wouldn't hurt. We bargained for it. It was good though, wasn't it? You felt the blood rushing? Did you also think your heart would explode?

We even forgot to keep score ...

I don't know what you're thinking and I probably never will.
Not unless a moment in time like that one comes to pass again and you make your magic move. But then, how often do we let ourselves make moments perfect? How often do we let ourselves live perfect moments? And then again ... there is me and my dulling reflexes...

Game Point

I walked to the store today ... the same store we always walked to to buy chocolate.

It was strangely cold for a sunny day... another paradox, no? But this time you didn't serve. Life did. One of those little ironies I am always whining about.

I bought some orange flavoured chocolate... you're right ... it does grow on you.


I'm stopping to read a love poem thats on the inside of the cover ... who would've guessed... such a pleasant surprise...




And then again I think life's little ironies aren't bad... in fact I think I am particularly fond of some of them.

Whats the score? 40-love.

Game over. You win. But I didn't lose. :)

... and then there was ... none?

Love and hate are really the same thing. They're both passion ... in different shapes and form.


The only perceivable opposite of love ... is indifference.

It makes sense, doesn't it?

Either you feel something, or you don't.

Sure you read about it ... but you have to live it, to know it.

But I didn't want to live to know indifference ... it just seems, like such a ... waste.


And there she stood, giddy headed with joy ... "fall in love with me," she thought she heard him say... the same familiar feeling of warmth streaming over her... she could see him clear as day, the familiarity made her heart overflow, she smiled and cried and the world seemed prettier than most people saw it ... there was no better sense, none of that meddlesome common sense ... there was life and hope and all good things dreams are made of ... reliving, reviving, radiant ... stars shone in her eyes...

... and then there was ... none?

Why I think Death has it all figured out

(Courtesy Terry Pratchett ofcourse ... I realize now its not Pratchett himself I am in love with, I'm in love with Death and the Witches. Pratchett, has been reduced to ... the medium... my heart however, lies elsewhere)

__________________________________________________________________

THEY NEVER INVITE ME TO PARTIES, YOU KNOW. THEY ALL HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I DON'T HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND.

"Everyone ought to have a friend," said the barman sagely.

I THINK -

"Yes?"

I THINK .... I THINK I COULD BE FRIENDS WITH THE GREEN BOTTLE.

__________________________________________________________________

*more to come as the book progresses

The things one must do in the name of friendship I tell you!

:)