pandora’s box or paradox…. if you go far enough you will meet yourself… i mean like what the good fuck is the point of acting sane or trying to fit into society ? everyone is crazy and everything is crazy – after julien’s death, for a while i tied a little string around my wrist that served as a token of a reminder not to slit my wrists and it isn’t there anymore, hasn’t been there for a while, and i don’t know what to do with my hands, with their freedom – except create. try to create something, away from all of the noise, the distraction. towards all that is violent and gashed open and deeply wounded and biting. you know what i mean? like white noise wrapped in cellophane. my heart is noisy like pop rocks which go pop pop pop when you put them on your tongue. my heart is noisy like a tin can full of pebbles.
i spend a lot of my free time reading literature or reading history that goes against the dominant river of thinking, and it makes me feel all the time like there’s a panic button underneath my tongue; like i’m on the edge of the universe. i was watching news this morning and they were talking about how a man brought his wife’s ashes to the eagles parade and i was thinking how stupid that was and about human beings and how they survive by doing these idiotic things… like attending a parade ! it’s such a mass mentality ! it’s imperative for their existence, i suppose. i would have happily stayed home even if it were a parade for patriots… humans lose their individualities during such group activities and become flooded with altruistic nature, as tho doing such things would save them from themselves but that’s how they exist and observing human nature interests the scientist in me. to watch humans as lab rats … oh yes, i too feel that mentality to a certain extent (hence i loathe my humanness) like when i grieved the loss of my favorite team.
i have never cared about what others think of me and i have never felt more free to be unabashedly be me. i guess i was thinking about this because of the way people around me struggle with trying to look “good”. their unending struggle to look thin while eating completely unhealthy stuff… they bore me actually and i am so glad i never have gotten a complex about my weight. oh yes, i would love to shed a few pounds for my heart’s sake but i know not to get into that trap of getting stressed out as long as i’m on these steroids. speaking of which i so need to get back to the gym which i skipped as i have been quite fatigued the whole month of jan due to multiple feedings for horus and i can feel my muscles happily petrifying.. but it’s ok and thank goodness, there’s the muscle memory…. and once a dancer is always a dancer.
this evening when i got home, i saw my little skittles got something like a pink eye and i ran her to the vet which she then thought it’s ruptured third eyelid and so now skittles is on antibiotics and may or may not have vision in her eye and i am sad for her but my kids are resilient. all their docs think so and they think i got lucky but i tell it’s not luck, it’s love and genetics. my love is potent and my kids react to it in a positive way. i sang to skittles a very happy nice love song (in hindi) as valentine’s day is coming up and she joined in the song.
i’m planning to not go to church tomorrow and just stay home and take care of my kids and also self care. i wish it were warmer tomorrow… there is no feeling in this world that i enjoy more than being bare-legged, barefoot (like in the summer), with no pants on and just a flimsy t-shirt against my naked skin, and lying underneath a shady tree on a blanket watching the planes streak white and crisscross against the sky. the clouds light water colored. a sparrow or an eagle flying sleek overhead. and to stretch, stretch out against the earth. to feel the breeze glide over you, the entire bloom of leaves rustling as it passes through. my body is extremely sensitive to touch. i am a very sensory being — the world is seen through my hands. the grass against my skin feels like a homecoming. my body feels more my own when i’m not wearing many clothes, when i’m just a layer away from everything else.
there’s a lake around these parts that jace & i used to go… he to swim and i to watch him and during the summers — we drank cold lemonades and he smoked weed and swam naked and we fucked on soft, fraying blankets. (he one time wanted to try angling, for the record i protested this activity for the sake of fish and the worm, but he bought the worms and a whole fishing gear and he stood at the shallow end, while i was romping in the grassy banks looking at these beautiful red and velvety insects, giggling merrily; the fish came alright but they took a nibble at the worm and dashed away and i was literally floundering on the bank roaring with laughter; he had the entire worm (he didn’t want to cut them to pieces) hooked and so the bait was long and not close enough to the hook and you get the picture)
spring is my heart’s home. i belong in the tropics. my shoulders salt-kissed, sun-licked. sex with the windows open, under the blue skies, a lawnmower crackling, all dirty knees from a bike ride around the neighborhood. and the rain — i read a poem a while ago that was on the back of a metro card in new york, which described rain as “a million feral cries of si si si”. everything is so alive. so, magnificently alive. and everyone is glowing, and they’re laughing and there’s this feeling, this wonderful feeling of endlessness in each day. you get off of work and people seem more open. more open to loving. & there is forgiveness. there’s not much need to survive in the spring, not like in the wintertime. people are more unafraid. in spring, i dance with more lightness ! with gentleness ! with more sensuality ! petals falling over us. the river water warm in the evening time. diet sodas with ginger and limes and the water lapping against the rocks. a cool, white sheet falling against us, our foreheads pressed together, soft moans and sighs and our skin, so delightfully humming.