all the stars

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an excerpt from our night. anubis et moi, rocking to “all the stars – kendrick lamar”

i’ve finally submitted my application y’all for an mba and i’m chatting up people so i can move ahead and use my intelligence appropriately. i’m excited to learn something new but i’m already tightly scheduled with no time left for myself but my circumstances have made me work harder so i can’t relax yet but i keep reminding myself that this is only temporary and yes, one of these days i too shall enjoy crème brûlée cheese cakes, and pastel sunsets and hopefully it will be with sandalwood or on my own as “places are so much lovelier when one is alone – du maurier”

sandalwood appeared on my doorstep with a guacamole grilled cheese sandwich and i must say, for a pretentious person, i love grilled cheese sandwich and i ate it for the first time when i came to america and julien and i were visiting one of our friends and she lived on a farm and the sandwich her mum made was yummy and it was julien’s first as well and it was a tremendous joy; but i can’t cook one even if someone put a gun to my head and oh i tried to cook it numerous times but i think i suck in a most brilliant way. but the boy scored again with his brilliant guacamole grilled cheese sandwich feat.

i’ve been spending time plotting my future (mostly financial as i’m broke) but it’s fun though. you know. to earn money and multiply it and invest etc. i dated millionaires before i got married to jace (and after julien) but they all bored me and mocked me because here i was working hard to get a degree and there they are high school drop outs but millionaires. and i actually admired them but they were boring because they wanted a trophy wife, unintelligent and without an opinion, blonde, lounging by the poolside, sipping something alcoholic and having no opinion except for the temperature of the water. and i’m not that person you know. the only way anyone can grab my attention or respect is by challenging my intelligence and they were desperate and i was like no thank you !

julien was an aristocrat but he was as humble as he was wealthy and jace worked hard for his money and i admired his intelligence.

i have so many things still up in the air and some days i just want to give up and curl up in a corner and go to sleep and not wage wars but when i see my pretty little babies faces, adrenaline bursts into my veins.

i got sick on sunday with flu thanks to one of my colleagues who was at work on friday in spite of him going through flu and coughed a lot and i knew in 48 hours i’ll come down with flu (viral incubation is 48 hrs) and so monday i informed my boss i’ll come and collect my laptop and leave and she was like stay put. i spent monday fading in and out.

and there is this girl who kept emailing me all day long with honey dripping right through my laptop screen and who i can’t stand as she is so goddamn fake (and dangerous if you don’t watch out) and once she realized that i’m on a solid ground with my boss (there was a futile attempt to make my life miserable and for a while they were successful till my boss figured out the truth as i refused to talk to her about my pain but just ground up my teeth) and so she is now all lovey dovey and i’m now gagging and wanting to throw up because i’m not fake but i’m polite and i give minimum respect they deserve as a human being in spite of my personal feelings. the most incredulous thing for me is that people underestimate me and my intelligence. and i assess a person’s intelligence by talking to someone for a couple of seconds. i’ve a good mind to photocopy my resume and rent a crop duster or a drone and make these copies rain in my office !

but all is well that ends well… and meanwhile i’m plotting my success in the company and i’ll bulldoze anyone who would stand in my way while charming the pants off of the right people.

an update on the reasons for my existence and the joy and happiness of my life aka my kitty babies. horus has started eating on his own and halle-fucking-leuiah and i’m floating in the nebula with happiness and i’m thinking i would bring him to the vet sometime this weekend to get his feeding tube removed. skittles, my kid with ruptured third eyelid, as i predicted completely recovered and she still has a bit of healing to happen, but she is happy and her eye looks fine and i’m sure her vision is normal. the rest of my children and doing well by god’s grace.

my friend will be visiting me in march and he lives in new zealand and i’m seeing him after many moons and so i’m i thrilled to bits. i am putting together a fun day or two with him.

i’m planning to get acupuncture for my asthma and ugh.. not too thrilled about needles as i would cry shamelessly. and i’ve scheduled a full body massage (which includes massaging tits and tummy, and bum) so i could detox. i try and get this done once every six months but it has been over a year.

i’m miserable slightly as i am trying to move on and as much as i would like to forget ze american boy, it’s hard as i still see him around. but i’m getting better and i scribbled a few lines for him for his birthday.

as usual, this does not belong here, it is not poetic, it is personal and it hurts but i just need to say this before i forget.

it’s your birthday, so i bought you a cake, i would have baked you a cake, a towering one with three layers of raspberry infused chocolate mousse cake.

i met you at a very strange time in my life. i felt a little sad and nostalgic for new years where i was ready for so much and so little all at once. if life went the way i wanted, i probably would have hung out with you, laughing and may be shared a bag of chips with you; i have a love affair with bottles and i would have given you a blue bottle from an antique store.

i loved you yesterday and i loved you today. i loved you in a complicated and compromising and confusing way that made me uncomfortable and unapologetic for my actions. i loved you and i was stupid, so stupid in a confusing way, stupid in the way i’d never be able to keep my hands off of you, stupid in the way i had spilled my secrets i never knew i had, stupid in the way i’d cry every time i thought of letting you go, stupid in the way i would have been reckless and bold. but i loved you. i am sure of that, no matter how many silences, awkward half-conversations, nights when i  soaked the sheets with hot salt water tears.

i was careless and consumed, you know.

but happy birthday my darling !



either way, i’m here

months of late night emails and candid small talk. i never shared my secrets with you, just the facts and blatant observations. i keep plotting day dreams of how things could be if i had my way and but the truth is i don’t know how to transition to you.

i spend too much time talking about distance: the way two people can be separated by things both tangible and intangible, not just points on a map and miles on road markers, but also the emotional secrets you can keep from someone. there’s been this theme sparking everything i touch lately, a lingering notion that throughout my life, i’ve been spending my time picking and choosing my romantic entanglements based upon how far i can keep someone away from me. it’s been tripping over strangers. it’s been sending my feelings through black letters on white screen and stealing looks and sighing. it’s been avoiding confrontations and making excuses. it’s been holding my breath for a possibility to pull through when i’ve been nervous over the american boy since mid-may of last year.

you sat on the edge of my bed telling me how much you would love to kiss me (and fuck me) and i laughed and told you if i did that it would be for wrong reasons. you laughed as well and teased me about my absurdity.

all my big talks about wanting to get fucked (too true) but when the moment came, i remembered all my rules about premarital sex and i’m glad you are patient and understanding and more importantly, you are kind. i conflict between desires and the plain logic.

but the reality is, i miss my life with boys who accepted me for my crazy, and fucked up ways; my habit of making blowjob jokes at the most inappropriate time; didn’t mind me when i was feeling lost and alone and horrible and laughed at the way i mocked the girls who take themselves far too seriously; and who shared books with me and comforted me when i was at my lows and slowed me down when i was going a super sonic speed; i miss singing really bad songs with them and let me know when it’s raining because they know i smile when the weather is cold and let me dream a little and save me from myself.

nostalgia comes in phases, of course and billowing in when i’m not paying attention, lying quiet some days and hitting hard on others.

but i have learned to be thankful for the things that are mine to take: like text messages you send and elaborate stories you told in excited voice (sometimes leaving them on my voicemail), spontaneous visits and emails spilling things you won’t admit out loud yet. but, i am not there yet. in the last few months, i’ve found myself in several separate moments where i’ve had opportunity to share something with someone i’m in love with and i always hoped to stumble into moments to say things i was afraid of saying and always showing up at his doorstep with empty hands full of potential.

in one year, my entire life changed because of one person’s triggering familiar features. though i’ve hinted at it before, i don’t know if i can fully explain how much that scared me. i was not expecting to rearrange all the plans i had set in stone, the concrete ideas plotted out in order.

i wasn’t ready to bump into you. since then, my world has been reeling and burning and challenging me to exceed all of my faults, to unearth the past and speak it without a shaking voice, to build towards something new, something bold.

last night i sat in the dark listening to mozart, something i always do when i miss me when i was happy. it is a small reminder of the strange and wonderful coincidences that happen to fall upon us quite frequently. we spoke for a brief time earlier about nothing in particular, and then you said you would marry me if that’s what it would take and i felt that familiar swarm of emotions well up inside of me, something that starts in the chest and makes my heart come to life, each beat moving faster than i expected until i have to count my breaths just to calm down. i could lace this up with all the poetic nonsense my mind can spin, but all i can think about is how this is big.

i am afraid of drowning in nostalgia, reawakening the haunting memories i tried to bury deep down inside my rib cage. i was afraid maybe i’d regret letting go of all the things i had lost. instead, now i sit in the dark and i don’t feel a goddamn thing. i cried in the shower because i had forgotten the way the water burned my eyes and laughed at all the jokes still being told in a world where time had seemed to stop: everything was exactly the same.

sometimes i feel like maybe i could explode.

for now tho, i need you to know that i would say yes if i thought i’m right for you. but you have to wait. i repeat this to myself when my heart feels heavy and my mind sputters with exhaustion from counting unknown days on my fingertips. i have told you some of my secrets printed on paper in my handwriting and you have apologized for being nervous when we talk and i cried once, but i don’t think you could tell and you get quiet when you are unsure about things. we are close, but never close enough. but we have time. we have so much time.

i could spend years getting to know you over and over again, and may be i could grow into you, wrapping my branches around yours.

and the answer is always yes but wait for now.

for the loves of my past

my life is a wonderful one’ i keep mumbling as if to make myself believe.

i always overthink things that shouldn’t be overly thought. time is a selfish bitch and its consistence and constance is driving me to a point of sad sad insomnia. there’s not enough time.

there’s a boy in my bed reading poems out loud to me and my ribcage hurts when i breathe, but i’m happy, you know. there are so many people to say goodbye to and i’m afraid that tomorrow i’ll be too sad to function properly.

is it just positively not a good idea at all to want to say i love you to someone via text when you’re going to see him tomorrow. i came very close though. i think so, i don’t know. what would you do if someone said i love you and goodbye in the same sentence ? because that’s what i wanted to do and it’s complicated. i don’t know, i don’t know. today was a husky and dusky colored day. i feel like my winter has been one drawn out goodbye. everything is so up there, out there, somewhere that isn’t here. but i’m ending things. collecting the remaining pieces of me and putting them in my pockets.

my life is a wonderful one. i just have to smooth over all the edges that i’ve roughed up in the past, errr, two or three months.

this is an accumulation of my mind. i’m not saying anything anymore. there are no words for how i’m supposed to be feeling. i just want to drive around with my eyes closed until there’s nowhere to go anymore.

a love letter to my boys who don’t exist anymore.

you. i love you.

you may be faded images or i may be driving with my eyes closed. blurred humans or i’m going blind or i may be sleep deprived. i loved you more than i love sweet potatoes. i’ve never said that to anyone since you.

and i’ve fond memories of you; i’ve tucked these memories of you in my every cell to keep me alive and not feel so dead; i warm up to your memories and i remember the bonfires and drinking tea from a tea cup and falling over everyone and dancing with you and smelling your cigarettes and beautiful stories and vanilla flavoured cigars and collecting fall leaves and my electric blue dress and stumbling and talking trash and laughing with you and holding your hands and tracing your spinal cord and nibbling your lower lip & singing whatever and swaying to your guitar notes and forgetting about everything.

and oh how i loved to dance with you and i loved to move in the rhythm of you.. i’d rather not say hello to you and remember you; but you keep tugging at my heart’s skin, bringing up what i’d rather have forgotten. i can’t stop scratching these scars you left turning me upside down. i’d rather be under this spell of no return, knowing that there’s no winning here; i always lost myself in you and i’d rather lose myself in you and i’m lost in you.

ps: in case you are wondering about my valentines’ day… some unknown sent me flowers and they were waiting for me on my door step. i’m thinking it’s the anonymous guy/girl/it who texts me and yesterday i asked him/her/it for his/her/its name and no reply but i got a valentine text today again… robbie made weekend plans for dinner; sandalwood is in my bed reading me romantic poems in the hopes of getting into my pants and oh he gave me a rose dipped in gold; i’m planning to collect a bouquet; my ballet teacher came back from russia and ordered me to get myself stretched and so this evening, i got stretched thoroughly for 90 mins and i’m exhausted. i’m going to bed !


today was rather a sleepy day… i was still feeling the after effects of my cold and yesterday it rained all day and so the blahness continued to this monday which is already a big blah…

so i think i have a secret admirer…. the person i mentioned before and who texts me bible verses etc anonymously and today he (or she) actually wrote a very lengthy and a very sweet text without actually saying that i’m pretty important to him & what a precious thing i’m to him (or her?) oh well…

and today only i was talking to this coop girl at my work with who i giggle that i don’t get stalked anymore … true story, not to brag but i had so many stalkers and admirers and this with me just being a tom boy…. anyway i don’t understand why this person doesn’t come out and ask me out or let me know who he or she is…

coming back to the point, my heart twinged a little when i saw ze american boy today. i get pulled to him as a magnet pulls iron but gosh i really don’t know what to do ? each day when i see him, i remind myself to breathe and i teach my heart to unlove him. i recently considered to quit the job but then i changed my mind as i have a family to feed.

sandalwood is becoming somewhat important to me and i’m conflicted. i like him and i think he would be good for me. i haven’t decided yet.

to a certain degree, the things i write here have become impersonal or more like journal entries. i don’t name people so you, the reader, won’t bond with these characters… i have exchanged them to their characteristics and to the ideas of them. names and human characteristics have been exchanged for the space between people, for how i personally am moved by skin, by language, by touch — by everything that falls around love, that isn’t directly the object of my affections. i like it this way because then while sharing my experiences i still have that uncrossable bridge between me and you… with my friends i talk explicitly, or as a matter of factly; as after all, i am a scientist. i down play the workings of my heart with everyone. but you, the blog readers are ok as you are anonymous.. to the comfort of the anonymous i’ll write of everything that moves me but won’t go into details about things that are dangerous to put into words. that’s how i’ve always been, tho. i keep myself closed and i distance myself with other human beings. call it defense mechanism or just being arrogant; apart from the boys who don’t exist anymore, there will never be another person who will hold me up against the light and see every facet of me, every color and every hue that i can become. when these boys died, they emptied me of my essence.

i often think of us as “the little prince” (le petit prince) and that there are so many little island worlds we all belong to respectively. we hold so many planets in us and we won’t let any other human beings to land on it or let alone visit. and that’s so lonely a feeling.

what i would like is to find one human who can soothe the ache of wanting to discuss every molecule of my life. i want to be able to touch someone’s arm or shoulder or knee and understand the fear that consumed them in their childhood, the happiness of their freedom, the way they fell headfirst into love for the first time. i love stories.. and i want to know how each of us accumulate all these worlds, all these stories i wanted to live and have lived and the dreams…. all the dreams, i had carefully weaved…

i think what i desire the most is understanding, that falls deeper than words into a space between two humans that can’t be touched by language. sandalwood talked about this the other day how someone he knew talked about how we communicate with each other…. i am not much for communicating my heart matters…what i do is i rip out my heart and use it as a pen and scribble myself out into words…and currently that’s what I’m doing.. instead of holding the american boy in my arms and listening to his heart, i write about my love for him but also i’m painfully aware of his relationship status… for fuck sake he is almost married !

how can i explain to someone the sound of an ocean beneath a moonlight beam… you need my heart for that. i suppose i’m yearning; nay i’m coveting… there are certain people who are so in tune with the subtle nuances of my being. there are certain people who i can tell are hurting just by how they hold their hands on their lap or press their lips. but still, there’s always something missing. i may just be looking for something completely selfish. i may just be looking for the basic and primal human relationship.

it’s just loneliness, i think.

i’m just lonely, i think.

actually i am lonely for him.

but the thing is this ! still, still and still i’m hopeful.


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.


spent past few days in a soupy, mushy feeling (still mush and soupey) and moping in general because patriots lost and i felt that loss deep to the marrow of my bones. after a good cry, i decided to continue to mope around a bit. i got a nasty cold and i stayed home for the better part of this week and i stopped watching news (stupid eagles are all over our local news). i listlessly flopped on my bed, my couch and sometimes with my face buried deep into my pillows. shot down all invites for dinners but shall go out on sunday because my friend wants to do a valentine dinner with me. wondering if i could get a reservation to “love” restaurant. sandalwood stopped gloating after i threatened him that i would banish him out of my life. i still owe robbie a movie and so goes my love life… after much analysis i found out that once i remove sex from the equation i am perfectly content being single with my kitties. and my laziness is already setting in and i don’t want to go through all these motions of finding a suitable mate just to get a perfect and satisfying scratch for my sexual itch.

and then there’s this “children” question. i’m conflicting between wanting children and not wanting them and i am definitely not gonna conceive but would love to adopt but children are rather problematic and the main downside is they are not cats. also, i am thinking i don’t want any man with kids. cats and other animals yes but no kids and this would completely rule out the american boy because he has some. i don’t want to compete for his affection as i’m a complete narcissist (and also unfair) as he probably would have to compete with my cats for my affection.

the boys i go out with are young and they keep telling me they don’t want kids, but i think they should and they probably will start feeling it when their biological clocks starts ticking louder.

and oh, side note and very irrelevant note… during my mopey sessions (after superbowl was lost) and even before that time, i watched a few movies (crime and serial killers and what have you) and for whatever reason (the movie titles aren’t worth remembering) every movie played this song at least once “crimson and clover” and so come monday my brain latched on to it and i woke up humming “….. and clover” having forgotten the word “crimson” and too lazy to google and so the whole monday and tuesday i went “la la la and clover” and then i went off on a tangent and remembered a particular episode of “frasier” where frasier crane forgets the words to a song “buttons and bows” (look before you leap episode)…. after cracking myself up silly tuesday night, i finally googled and i found out the song was “crimson and clover” and am now at peace.

i conflict whenever there is a remote possibility of finding happiness. i’m self-sabotaging that way and i don’t know how to stop myself and free myself from this negativity. i’m fighting very hard for a life where i feel as free as possible. trying not to get tethered to a place or material possessions save for the ones which i’m not done being sentimental about. i’m tethered to my cats tho because they save me from not getting lost in the abyss of my life. they are my lighthouses and perfect reminders for my sanity.  there has been someone that i deeply love and living very, very far from me. it has all been too much for so long and i’m exhausted. loving someone is exhausting. worrying about people is exhausting.

in my solitude, i slowly traced words that have been on my mind, very softly and gently in my head and then let them go, dropped them into where lost words fall when you finally let them go like the way petals fall from your fist. i keep muttering to myself i don’t want to hold onto the past anymore. i don’t want my past to define me. i just want. i just want to sit barefoot in a green place and eat something fresh, hand-plucked, from a garden. not eden. i am no eve. what i want is a place fought for. a place that i deserve. and i, maybe too much to ask, want a butterfly to flutter in slow ellipses over me, and land on the shoulder of someone that i love, sitting close by. and i want to think “yes, this is it. this is all there is. this is it.”

i’ll fight, and i’ll keep fighting, always and for as long as it takes, for my right to be, for all of our rights to be. to laugh, in open space, with no blade of fear no silver of shame pressed against the napes of us. i will fight for my little kitties and for my peace and for our happiness  and for all of the happiness of my friends, my future soulmate, my former lovers and loves and future loves — but when i am done, when i’m finally done, when i put down my sword, breathe out, and say god i’m so fucking tired — please, just let me go into my softness and let me be. i don’t want to just survive, forever. i don’t want to spend my entire life proving to myself that i can endure, and for that to be the cap over my head. i want, to extend myself outward. to settle so soft that everything around me warms. to be at peace with no thoughts for future, so that no clutter no banging of pans no fire at the edge of my door can phase me anymore. i just want to be calm. may be with butterflies fluttering over my head. or landing on the palm of my hand.


i was thinking of you today… and i’ve been thinking about god whether he shivers, and i continue to write about boys who don’t exist anymore. i’ve been thinking about the kindness of a stranger who still sees me as a human being. moments like these make me angry when i feel human and it is really not what i wanted. i hate being vulnerable.

i’ve been learning about different kinds of distances and the fire of longing that warms instead of burns but ends up consuming. i’ve been thinking i want to belong and i’m thinking how much i miss you, but i’m also thinking how absurd to think that i miss you.

i talk about distances like i’m a map, like i’m old and i’m hurting and my wrinkles are streets and my tears, rivers that led me everywhere but to the sun at the center of me, the memories of people and places burning underneath. i think about longing but it could only ever turn people into tragedies. i am thinking about the burnt forests and houses. how the fire annihilated everything in its path and left everything bloodied and blackened in its wake, angrily spitting out ashes and maybe i am a masochist; maybe we will end up as soot and ashes to be inhaled by unsuspecting lungs; my body hardened with sharp edges sleeping across the ceramic floors of the bathroom. like how i had to fight for it and how hard and easy and how complicated and simple. may be my story ends with me being bloody and blackened and spitting out ashes and maybe i’ll be the tragedy you watch on the local news and my name becoming news and me an old ghost like you were on my tongue and the way your name sounds as i miss you.

lately, i’ve been memorizing your memories. stuffing them in my lint filled shirt pockets for safe keeping and gentle old age. i’m binding your story with the skin of my heart to surpass the notion of time. i lay awake and keep still to hear you breathe gently and softly like you used to. i can still feel me snuggling up to your arms and resting in the coveted space between your neck and shoulder and trying to warm up and waiting for sun to rise and moon to set. how many eons has it been ? circulating the lost moments till the breaking of light. i know how to reminisce. or i know how to lie.

bringing up the blueprints of your anatomy and tracing your silhouette. my eyes have gone weary and paling the colors and isn’t always interpreted the way i mean them to. there are only sound waves and the speed of light dragging their heels in the sand of your arms to leave marks of where we have been. and i am, always searching for you in these lost moments and found times.

i’m sitting here thinking if god shivers the way i do. i’m thinking i love you more than i love sweet sweet mangoes. i’m thinking i love your more than my ralph lauren comforter. i am thinking how much i miss you, but i’m also thinking how absurd to think that i miss you. you and i were everything and i became nothing. how can i then miss you ? and then again, how can i not miss you ? i think of you every moment, and i hear you on the other end of my thoughts and i hear your voice and i want to hang up on you. i hate saying goodbyes especially if they are forever. i ache for you and my eyes miss your form and tear up. i want your arms around me, keeping me safe and i want to hear you say i miss you. but these are just a sad girl’s lonely musings. the night just started and as it grows, you’re on my mind and when the night fades into day you’ll fade from my mind as well. but, then again, another night will be born, and you’ll be on my mind again.

the day i met you, i lost myself. the day you died, i disappeared.


comeback kings

and superbowl 52 !

well, my boys, patriots have done it again and headed to the super bowl for the tenth time, fresh off of 7th consecutive afc championship game and facing philadelphia eagles…

tomorrow night is the superbowl 52 night and i’m firmly in patriot’s corner surrounded by eagles… i’m going out with “sandalwood boy” (long story i will tell you later but he smells of sandalwood) to a sportsbar near my home and i will be wearing patriot colors and sandalwood told me he will protect me because he wears eagles and i laughed hard and told him, i know he may have to protect me from the sourpuss eagles fans once patriots win the superbowl.

this whole week has been one eagles related saga as i’m in philadelphia and rightly so, and i was asked by many eagles fans when they saw me wearing patriots hoodie “you know, you are in philadelphia, right” and i acknowledged yes and that eagles fans should be proud that they at least made it to the finals; others begged me to have this one game for eagles as patriots have five… i said, it’s really nice but probably tommy brady would like to get another record under his belt… (having high score for passing yards and winning the trophy at the same time).

i felt bad for nick foles because i read an article which read “how to turn foles into a wentz” and i got royally ticked off… wentz may be fine but foles wasn’t too shabby and eagles fans were also nasty when after a win, foles went home to tuck his daughter in, instead of staying to party. i mean, he knows his priorities and i would be happy for him if eagles win (no chance) so as to shut all his haters..

had dinner with sandalwood tonight and i changed my plans of valentines and going out with him after he caught me off guard and recited this poem to me: “roses are red, foxes are clever, i like your butt, let me touch it forever………”

i was laughing so hard in the restaurant and drew everyone’s attention. in all this i still was thinking of my american boy. as it’s my custom, i gave full disclosure to sandalwood.

on friday at work, we had a superbowl party and i wore my hoodie and oh, i forgot, the american boy sent out a blast email “to wear the eagles jersies if you are raised right” and i was cackling to myself at that but well… i got him back for that.

he was super excited about this whole thing and i’m so sorry for him come monday as his excitement will be down in the drains. there were some trivia games and i sucked at them mostly as i don’t know the terminology for american football and there was this finding words (given below the thing like patriots, superbowl, etc) in a jumble of letters and my boss circles “joey” and the girl i was sitting next to and i were giggling while making up follow-up stories…

we also had a fire alarm go off and while hearing all that noise, i started panicking purely because the announcer kept saying not to get out of the building in essence and i felt trapped and i started getting anxious and i ran to joanne, as she is also comforting to me and she held my hand and told me it would be ok.

i’m so grateful for those moments when strangers are kind to me.

and oh a funny thing… i was watching a game show on tv “child support” i think it may have been a rerun as it was like 1 am or something. it was all those wee morning feedings to horus. and the premise of the show is if the contestant gets a question wrong then the same question is put to a bunch of kids and if the kids get it right, the contestant is saved from elimination. anyway, the question was “in order to take the temperature of a child orally, where is the thermometer placed” and i fucking kid you not as this woman answered in the butt…. when the kids were asked the question they said under the tongue and one child actually said. “orally means in the mouth”…. and my brain was thinking, hasn’t she ever performed oral sex  and what exactly did she do when some asked for an oral sex… so many questions…

on a side note:  justin timberlake is performing at the super bowl again and i’m sorry but i just can’t stop thinking about the fact that janet jackson was put through so much crap in the music industry, the tv industry, the superbowl, and was publicly shamed to the point of humiliation all over a wardrobe malfunction that happened over 10 years ago….. all because a nipple showed and this really pisses me off because firstly it was an accident and secondly we see a lot of nudity even in tv shows and actually i may need to rant about this and goddamn americans are so conservatives at the wrong moments and i certainly don’t want people to pop their boobs out for no reason (remember i am a feminist) but for pete’s sake just chill…., i just hope janet makes an appearance at this superbowl and if she does, the feminist in me will growl and purr with happiness

well, i’m planning to sit (or shout or pull my hair or sandalwood’s) and thoroughly enjoy superbowl. it’ll be a battle but they will win. the amount of heart and soul each member puts into the game is just beautiful. i will be watching their smiles on their faces as the clock ticked down to zero will bring tears again to my eyes. i know they will get this done and i have never doubted it and i won’t start now. even when i was ridiculed by everyone under the sun, when deflategate was rocking the nation.

i know they will continue to grind and work as hard as they always had and they will make me happy no matter the outcome. the drive for 6 starts and ends here and we’re on to super bowl 52. my prediction is patriots win by more than 7 points 🙂

let’s go patriots and god bless you !

star dust and fluid self

i dream of you in delicate images, of fragile portraits built only in sleepy dreamy hazes, shivering at the sight of tumbling walls and shattered mirrors. yet i’m not built of glass, i’m an individual tracing outlines of you, a familiar stranger, sadly inaccessible, and i’m prying open the cracks within me only slightly, because if i expose the gaps, i illuminate the flaws and risks i’m (trying) and willing to take. my eyelashes flutter shut and i imagine the bits and pieces of star dust that created me, you and us, wondering if i’ll ever learn how to stop cowering behind the things i should say and start spilling the hastily formed sentiments; the words i tried to catch early in the morning, composing love letters in fog from the shower, before the wind blew them out of me. because sometimes you can’t keep it safe anymore, sometimes you have to take a risk, sometimes you have to be really goddamn honest with (or without) the promise of any reassurance or guarantee.

i may write great paragraphs about learning how to be brave, the twisted way i’ve thought that by shouting all of my secrets, i might become something bolder. but maybe i’m still not ready to say some things out loud yet, afraid my voice will quiver and my jumbled words will become nervous laughter, my mind falling into apologies and excuses. if i had the guts though, if i could gather the courage to look you in the eye and tell you everything that has been on my mind when you were standing in front of me all those times, and all those times i kept talking to you with my mouth full of bees so you couldn’t hear what i’m saying and tonight while sitting in the cold wind that wakes us up from the tingling skin to the core of our hearts, i would tell you this:

this is absolutely terrifying and i’m tapping my fingers in a steadying rhythm against my wrist to remember not to run away and not to destroy, not to repeat a passive aggressive path. because to me, this is big and this is heavy and i’m incredibly unprepared for it all. i feel all of this emotion welling up inside of me, a knot in my stomach, the swarm of bees in my chest and it has been so long since i felt a happiness that sits like a lump in my throat. so i claw my way through slowly unfolding ready to shout or cry or bury myself into a slight solitude so it will burn out with a small pop! but no matter the conflict of emotions, the net of protective keeping i’ve placed you into, there are some things that no matter how mixed up or complicated they might be, they fucking mean something. you can’t just ignore that and you can’t wonder where they might take you. you just have to lay it all out.

so here i’m. i’m ready to give you everything i’ve got, all the broken pieces and parts i’ve stitched back together with high hopes and good intentions. here are all my poorly told stories and histories i hoped to hide within myself, but shared too soon. here are my mistakes and successes, my flaws and my promises. here is all i’m, with shaking hands and an unsteady heart. here are my fearful thoughts and things i can’t quite articulate yet, my trust and my willingness to uncover everything ahead of us. because i’m tired of being safe and i’m tired of pretending it isn’t happening and i’m tired of wanting things and i’m tired of second guessing what all of this might mean;i’m keeping every goddamn finger i’ve, crossed that it is worth it in the end, when i want to believe in this so fully and deeply that it shakes me to my core.

i am crooked. i am old. i am placing all of my bets with pocket change. i am hoping to find you soon, and even from my deepest slumber and daylight moments spent wide-eyed, i know i will.

somehow i always am forgetting how difficult it can be to love fully, and to remain open armed and grateful.  how i don’t think my heart could get any bigger. and how i could fall farther in love with you than before. but here i’m, again and again.

how wonderful !