top of my game!

I had a good day today. Its been so good that i'm back on the blog-o-sphere! ;)

The euphoria, I think, is a result of the salsa. I am still spinning from my one-hour salsa class, which comes twice a week. But next week I'll be going to india, which perhaps means less salsa. Unless I can convince my cousins to take me somewhere in mumbai where I can shake a leg. :) yay yay!

I've also had a good poetry day. I'm in this writer's circle and the exercise this week was to take this bunch of spanish-to-english phonetically transliterated words, and make a poem out of them. I was nervous when I began writing but when I sat my ass down to it, it turned out pretty good.

This is the result:

O vine, o petrified plant,
disco into a tunnel,
and out comes a trance:

endearing banjos lost in dance –
marry an azure blue
with lime. O vine,

divine, o
petrified plant. Come invade me
like jaguar-sound letters,

Dreamy navigators,
that discover numbers, in chambers
of calcified curtain: bones of mine.

O vine, prelude to quaalude,
divine, endure and tear and dance,
number me till days

slip and denavigate, laconically communicate,
evanescence crucified, petrified,
multiply and divide, pliant plant.

***

so, that, and I've been watching a lot of scrubs lately. "I can't do this all on my own...I'm no superman!" except i'm feeling wheeeeeee! :)

the trip of trips

So from 5th to 28th august i was on a trip to singapore, indonesia (bali and jakarta), australia (melbourne and sydney) and dubai. each of those had their own weather pattern. singapore was warm, but pleasant at times. indonesia mostly pleasant and sunny. melbourne cold but clear and clean air and sydney rainy.

will post pictures.. they say they count for more than words. the world seemed like a bigger place than i had imagined, with places that are larger than nooks and corners that i have not visited. its like that feeling a friend of mine had about her school library, she thought that one day she would finish reading all the books, until she got older and discovered there were so many other books. now i have added the places i went to the places i want to revisit. life is long enough to have many turns and u-turns i hope. "there will be time, there will be time".

sometimes...

..i just don't know what is worthy of being written. Part of the pleasure of having a blog is just enjoying someone's readership, despite having nothing to write about. Life has been very confusing, and i've been feeling increasingly alone. Yet with the recognition that everyone else is probably feeling the same way. On this massive planet of other people who all feel alone as they make their daily decisions.

A cup of tea, I am craving a cup of tea :)

sprachelos

that's german for speechless. i have a very cool german vocabulary - snatched from bits of german lessons in high-school and brother's german gang of friends. that gang also incidentally drinks non-german beer and gets a very german high and starts singing self-confessedly bad german songs. its all actually rather cute.

but speechlessness... there's nothing to be said about it :)

have been going through a spell of bipolarity. was supposed to go to work today but ended up nervous at home. even got ready down to earrings, tied shoelaces, lunch in bag at the door. But at the final moment, turned around and sat at home. Seems I cannot face the 'world out there', so I am in here typing in the comfort of my apartment. its the least i can do...

i finally let life in...

..it was knocking on the door for so long. Or perhaps it was just silently waiting for me to acknowledge.

There are pictures on my wall, and postcards, and gifts. May 23rd was my birthday and I spent a magical 2 hours on the nile with friends. Felt like a child again, having all this much ado business just for me :) Just For Me - the friendship and laughter of friends, gifts such as bubble-maker, zong airflyer, jigsaw puzzle, noisy anklets among others that acknowledged the child within.

Now i know what to do when I am bored, just blow bubbles :)

O O O O :)

a poem

Introduction

Writing without emotion is quite difficult at this age, at this stage.
Maybe just one page without emotion will not be so hard a concoction.
Rhyming is such a bad, bad habit. I have not even begun
the story, and already poetry is such a distraction.

I step in the door, and already I slip. Is life full of warning?
I have been slipping the whole snowy way, this snowy day.
He is the first person I see, unbuttoning my coat.
The party has only just begun, very few people.
Only him, in a way, two others, and me with someone.

He greets when introduced, but I can tell he has not seen me.
Hello. How polite! And he only has eyes for her.
I do not remember when we all gathered in the kitchen, but we did,
And he told me he was a writer. And if his looks were not piercing enough,
That word signed my deal with Cupid - I’m trying metaphor not emotion.

I told him a story about writing. I actually gave him a metaphor.
He interrupted me once, to correct an inconsequential fact,
In the manner of literary scholars, “But I was certain that…”
Yet, knowing it only detracted from the point, was quiet.
I gave him a metaphor. I actually told him a story about writing.

And I could see then that he actually looked at me.
I looked at my wine glass. And we were properly introduced.
He was very attentive the rest of the evening.
I tried to be - I was - charming. And I even played it coy.
Anyone else could tell we were at it, except him and I.

- CK

Triptych

decided to go ahead and post up bits of my writing...

Triptych: a tri-partite work of art (how snobby of me to call this one :))

Sometimes when I stand on the wood-parquet between my bed and the bookshelf in my bedroom, I can hear creaks on the floor. As I sway, the parquet beneath me creaks. It reminds me that there is a space underneath, undiscovered. Have you ever lifted tiles, and found ants underneath, tens of ants, busy, living in an ecosystem unknown to you? It reminds me of stories that my grandmother told me, of people that found treasures buried in their houses, in corners, under floors, between bricks, in gardens, treasures with gold coins, precious stones, statues of gods. Treasures visited by snakes or ghosts. As the parquet wood creaks, I think of those treasures, and how I imagined how very possible it would be for me to find one such treasure.

My parents and I went to look at a house one, a villa sort of place that had a basement. My brother and I thought we could do some "Famous Five" sort of investigative work from the basement there. We already wanted it and we didn't have the house. We lived in an apartment, and it had a secret dark roof above the bathroom that was used as storage. We liked going there. I liked going there. I was of the few that could fit in that space to move in or out storage items. Sheets, extra luggage and so forth.

Once, my art teacher (HS) was very impressed by my abilities in graphology. He thought I could tell him something, just the way I search for psychics online thinking they could tell me something, something mysterious, interesting, something deep about me. Really, if I made a few calculations even I could predict some parts of my own future. I told him that from his writing I could tell he was very concerned about what other people thought about him. He was charmed. "How do you know that?" I wasn't very beguiling at that age, and I can never resist temptations of this sort. So I told him, "because you wrote 'read my handwriting and tell me what other people think of me.'"