The bench

I was playing once. Not winning, but playing. Playing soothed the sores left by the bench and gave me candy every night. I played the paper, highlighted by sun rays and happy members of the alphabet dancing to the sound of every scratch. But now, the books leak bad things. Words of faith and pep talks sound like dry leaves being crushed under angry feet. My pride has gone shopping, for some ink and some new balls may be. I suppose half-time isn't over yet.

I love the spunky new do for my blog! Because blue sky, green grass and dandelions are all beautiful.

Ants don't get me

Today, I bit into an ant. It bit my tongue first because I bit into a toffee that I had left lying on my table some 574849 days ago and it, the ant, was on it. When you find candy/toffee you left lying somewhere 574835 days ago (I swear I tried to randomly type the same number again), check for ants? So anyway, I bit into an ant. And it was crisp.
And then after I was done biting into some yummythings so the yucky feeling on my tongue would go away, I saw one ant. On my pillow! Then I dusted like a maniac for twenty minutes at least, so the one ant or its other crawly companions will not form a rather disciplined line and march into my ear and eat off my brain or something.

Anyway, I've been writing and writing some more and then dying to write when I'm not writing, in the past few days. Love has been ebbing and flowing and overflowing in every direction, so I OD-ied happily, wrote a lot and spread a lot of yellow cheer. Now, the seas are calm once again and I'm back to my happy little hole.
I was DYING to write something this afternoon, but powercuttedoff! And I, shamefully, cannot write too well on pen and paper anymore. Backspace is vital. So then the inspiration evaporated along with my sweat and I sat down with my giant book and coffee to get me through the rest of the day. Butbut my walls are all empty and sad, except for this beautiful thing. Love!

So, will you paint me a funkyfunky poster, pliss?  =)

I'm actually enjoying unemployment this time.
*Blink blink* 
Must get restless soon, before I get too comfortable 
*Blink blink*

Another one

The stereo is vomiting our every song one by one.
But there is a silence, thick as custard
that tells a story of
two lovers and twenty thousand loves.
You are here with me, listening too.
Climbing on to my collar bone,
licking my earlobe and teasing my every sense,
before you settle, lodged between my ribs.

I think always, of how it would be
if we stayed close enough to touch
but not kiss,
to discover what we loved
and hated before we separated.
I wished that in the whiteness of your room,
I found a space next to you,
just by your side -
to see the world
the way you saw it.
Staring at the ceiling didn't
feel the same without you.

Still, I have no regrets.
I am more fragrant now that
I recognise myself as an entity separate from you.
I reek of my own mistakes,
and bloom alone on dewkissed magenta mornings.
But one day, we will bloom together once again,
shaming sunflowers and shutting up glottis.

You are yours and I am mine.

One day, very soon,
I will have words to put out here,
words of promises and pencil tips
and rubber soles and leaky houses.
Words of love -
to say to nobody in particular,
but say nevertheless.
And I hope you will be there,
and you will listen.
You will tell me the things I want to hear
and draw a smile on my teary face
with your finger tips dipped in love.
Just like you always did.

Reboot love! X)

Written on: June 5th, 2010.

Many things

Did you know Blogger does not let you use Italics in the title of a post?

That's stupid. Italics are awesome. So are indentations. And punctuation! [See strange old poem stemming from my love for punctuation here]

But what will I do without

indentations,

punctuation

and italics!

I'm such a paragraph-slut! ^_^

--

 

This too, a love story

She works as a waitress in

that sketchy roof-top restaurant we always thought to be a dance bar.

She visits her grandma and works out crosswords every Friday.

She always wears her hair tied down,

been saving since she was fourteen to go to Paris.

One day, she would say with smiling eyes.

Wants three kids, the oldest being a boy;

she jots down names for them in her little notebook.

He lives in her building, grunts when she looks away.

He chops flesh at a butcher shop every day –

and hangs around outside a different bar every night.

He tucks his unkempt hair behind his collar and

chops it off with a knife every Summer.

The scar on his nape would then be visible.

A while back, he went to jail for stabbing a friend

and today, he says he'd do it again.

--

It's been a while since I shared anything I've written, barring the previous post and the poem above. There is no lack of inspiration (not with all the drama in my life!), no lack of time, no writer's block. It's just been a busy few months and all I really want to do now is keep it this way. May be get busier. I've felt no need for a break through all this though. I've wanted to be at a lot of places and change a lot of things to have them go my way almost everyday, but there have been no 'I need to get out of here's or 'I need a vacation's. Not till I get somewhere with something that pleases me. I'm also feeling slightly anti-social these days. I don't know whether it is the lack of...er...well, society. Or may be it's just a slump. Apparently, I've found new ways to mope around. When at least one aspect of my life starts going the way I would like it to, I will be social again. I will feel like it then.

But I always want a plan, something to look forward to. If there is nothing, I make something up and be falsely excited about it anyway. Like trying to blog more often for the 4 readers I have because I think they like what I write, for instance. I made a lot of plans today, most of which will fail. But it made me happy. 

But, I deviate. I was doing this explainingtoselfandthosewhocare thing: I've been writing. But I've been on an intentional hiatus from sharing what I write with anyone. It all started with laziness and a moody internet connection. But eventually, I found smarter-sounding reasons to give people. Firstly, why must I write itself? Why can't I just feel and not put it down on paper? Why must I string together a bunch of words in an attempt to find meaning in my thoughts and feelings? And secondly, why must I share what I write with people who will probably only just read it and not feel what I felt? Seemed solid and adamant enough for people (including the self) to stop questioning me / bothering with me.

And then, weeks later, it struck me during one of my many rickshaw-journeys. 

I write because I love to. I love writing things, stowing them away, tearing them up, re-reading them, editing them, twaeking them and doing all sorts of abusive things to them! 

I share because I have 4 readers. 

And my 4 readers read what I share and react, because they want to. 

No other reasons; none required.

EDIT >> Oh and nobody ever says "er"! Atleast not in the context it's usually written. 

Oh well.

Black and white

My hands are pressing piano keys,
black, white, white, black, white.
You are there, sitting at a distance.
Staring into the Earth, tall grass and shadows and all,
dirt waiting to get into your nails.
The sun here is always either rising or setting.
This is today and that, tomorrow.
We have no in betweens.

It is as it has been.

Everyone around me has a talent, it seems. Apparently, everyone not around me also does.

When people do a lot of things, there is usually that one thing that they do better than the rest of the things they do. A forte, so to speak. I've been trying to find that one thing I'm good at, that one thing that I can call my 'talent'. I haven't found one. Writing is the only thing I can say I'm good at doing. I at least convinced myself,  if not everyone else, that it is.

I can write. I can also go off into strange tangents all the time, but that doesn't count as talent, I think. I've not written any great truths and words don't spill out of me anytime I want them to. But of all the things I've tried to do, writing is the one thing I feel most connected to. And now, people have started making the connection too.

This is it then.

In true March Madness style

I've rekindled my thing with making random lists on whatever I get (usually tissue paper) and carrying them around wherever I go. And it's still awesome!

I've had a more or less eventful month this March.

- got very busy with work
- thought I was finally working things out in my head about my seemingly never-ending emotional woes, but failed understandably. There's only so much you want to deal with.
- understood exactly how important I actually am where I work and how I can take advantage of it
- spent a fun 2 weeks with one of my favourite persons in the world
- looked forward to having a crazycityexperience-cum-lazy-cum-adventurous-cum-inspiringartsyetc vacation, and ended up having a completely 'city' vacation but loved it anyway
- discovered that I like fast, ruthless cities like Mumbai almost as much as I like lazy, friendly cities like Bangalore and Pune
- re-discovered my love for Stumbleupon, blogs, online-reading and all the fun that internet is
- continued see-sawing between "nothing seems appealing" and "everything seems awesome"
- re-confirmed my doubts on this universe being a bitch and love being psychotic and annoying. But then  there's no Peace and Happiness without Love sittingly stoutly inbetween. So, I'm trying to let live if not live.

But apart from all the random nonsense that's been on my mind, this month has also been painfully retrospective. A new job, lots of new books, new people and may be a new place is on the cards. Just don't know which damn card. I'm sure it'll come to the surface 'one fine afternoon' (ya see what I did there?), just like everything else :)

Till then the job-hunting has resumed full swing, I'm reading like a maniac every chance I get, I'm writing and stowing stuff away secretly again and I'm beginning to like what I write again. I think lots of varied writing will pop up in here and everywhere else very soon.

I also think that it's funny that I find this on a T-shirt to be freaking hilarious:

(Like a blog post is ever complete without a)PS: You see what I mean when I say the list-making thing is back?