Monday, March 31, 2003

I have told you I am not a continuous being. My words cannot be used as evidence against me.
-An Unofficial Rose, Iris Murdoch
If this isn’t worth it, then something else must be. Fallen angels and misplaced grandeur. At every corner for the taking. Broken haloes and indifferent light. Someday it will all shine in reclaimed splendour. Bide your time.
I distrust familiarity. I do not have the strength to build any more anchors. I do not like the sound of my own voice. I am obsessed with myself. I like being served cold. I love a good climax and a seething end.

Sunday, March 30, 2003

Dungeons and dragons. All night long.

It scares me. The banality of it all. The mindlessness and the absence of a frame. Spins me around in the same cycle. The world is going round and round.

How am I so disparate from the strangers around me? The ones that fight against a relentless someone fighting a pointless something. Trojan the wall trampling thousands in the process. A delicious glory in the name of a flag at half-mast.
Leads me out of my body. To disown the world. And disinherit my beginnings. To disavow loss and separate suffering. To turn my back on the battle-field. And wait till I am stabbed.

Either with or against them. Who them? Who us? Team A, Team B, Team C. In a close contest of mayhem. No middle ground, no Switzerland. Break it down till it stares you in the face. A decision must be made.

Saturday, March 29, 2003

I feel nothing. Is an anti-climax. Drained beyond belief. Fed like a fat cat and thinking like a dead one. This everyday battle is futile. Spurious even. No purity of cause. No long road. No plan.
I could sit here frozen and never miss the freedom of cutting air. I could watch my feet all night long like I never knew sleep. Never sleep and never dream.

Detached from my body and floating in amniotic fluid in the half-state between sleep and wakefulness. Life to ponder and vodka to pontificate. One slip and I will fall. Love or the idea of love?

Monday, March 24, 2003

Gawk at my pout and bend at my knee
Sing my song and speak my speech
Feed my lies and stand when I please
Songstress, temptress, enchantress...

Am I kidding or are you?

Saturday, March 22, 2003

In an alcove in the house by the corner. Woven rattan chairs and a singing garden. Right now, I feel so blessed.

There's coffee warming on the stove and sounds pitter-pattering around the house. Somebody's lit an agarbatti amd Snoopy's chasing sparrows around the clothesline. Bells jangle and my day awaits. Is this what home was meant to be?

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Artifice – clever or artful skill/ a deceptive maneuver (especially to avoid capture)
Is that a word or a world?

Lessons and words get mingled in the irony of meaning and jugglery only goes as far as the nearest eye. What is there to hide from and where will I hoard what isn’t mine to use?

My eyes hurt from too much wine…bright lights and intense refraction…
Never enter an unnatural medium without acclimatization, u will bend and break.
What is the price of decadence and how free is a free fall?

Sunday, March 16, 2003

Sitting on the steps of the night, calculating, analyzing, wondering and vacillating. Of mistakes long undone and theories unravelled.
Words sans action? Actions bereft of words? Men without women…

Nice long lingering weekend. I can see time in bars and lines. It’s like a physical graph in my head with the days as lengths…dipping and curving and never ending.

Tomorrow will shine in poster colour splendour. Tomorrow’s Holi and I don’t think I can get home. Just might up and run and travel in the middle of the night. And be there on the lawns in the morning with the water and the colours and the sprinklers and the rainbows. I am so tempted…

Friday, March 14, 2003

Everything is personal.
The way that I feel and the way that I don't.
The things that are done and the ways that are true.
The song of the sea and the rhythm of my feet.

Thursday, March 13, 2003

What is sometimes more dangerous than not being able to understand is that I refuse to understand.

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

My day is slotted into pre-defined environments. Sometimes I feel like I’m part of this large simulation and somebody will get their finger on Esc and I’ll finally know what the truth is. This is anything but. Illusion and game and machination. Conscious interludes and controlled circumstance.

I am so in control and I so don’t want to be.

Sunday, March 02, 2003

It's been a whirlwind of a weekend. No time to breathe. Emptied out all that stuff crammed into every inch of 550 sq. feet. Two years of magpie heaven. Now winter's gone and so is the hoard.

New place, new people, new routes. And it's been a lovely morning so far. Long walk, amazing breakfast and adoreable dog. What more could a gurl ask for?

And I'm wondering if this is all it takes. Small doses of novelty. A few changes in the map. That really doesn't take much effort now, does it?