To write about love is... simplistic... reductive... implausible... incorrigible... Irresistible!
Did I really think that something this perfect existed?
Sure. In the same way that someone who has never been outside of the city of their birth believes in foreign lands. But to know it... To taste it every single day... That is a different country altogether... an imaginary homeland, located and conquered.
Am I frightened as I write this?
Hell, yeah.
Scared to death as I consider the possibility of how it will feel to return and read these words in the hypothetical, impossible scenario of 'it's-not-working-out'.
But if there's one thing I have identified about this sunburst it is this: I have never been more vulnerable, or more fearless than I am in this moment in time.
Courage to face what lies ahead... Love across oceans and trudging across the deserts of millions of inevitable dusty hassles... And fragility to the extent that I cannot look beyond this...
For the love... the faith... the dreams...
For making it real, and keeping it real...
Happy valentines darling
And before you ask, of course it had to be a day late.
Delay is our bond.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
All you need is time
If it can be broke then it can be fixed
If it can be fused then it can be split
It's all under control
It’s all under control
Are you telling me you don’t revel in your moments of darkness?
Does your depression hold no saving grace?
Is that midnight drink not being stored for future nostalgia?
Can it be that you’re not capering through the hollow years?
I have no fond recollections of the first time I met her… Of the moment that sealed our friendship...
I do however, remember the psychological rollercoaster that we all got into together.
Has someone ever walked up to you, demanding your strength?
Your best friend perhaps?
A lover?
Your sister?
A stranger?
There is a certain charm in being wanted by people when they’re coasting through jaded valleys of grief. And I have seen ridiculous numbers of people lean on her.
My favourite moment is still the same.
A Delhi nightclub… Allegiances are declared, battle-lines are drawn…
And she is victorious simply because you cannot beat sheer nonchalance combined with a complete lack of tact and duplicity.
How much we laughed that night..! Collapsing onto the sofa in the comforting glow of Peach Schnapps and sisterhood.
But…it took its toll, didn’t it?
Every time it happened, they sapped a little more of her strength.
Her eyes were brighter than ever but she was tiring…
Have you ever been tired?
Tired enough to want to never get out of bed?
Tired enough not to care where you wake up the next morning?
Tired enough not to care whether you wake up at all?
Do you enjoy the exhaustion as well?
Chances are it will lead to a renaissance after all…?
Maybe… Maybe not…
Sometimes it’s just too hard to find your way out of a maze of diamonds, dust and demons.
I’ve got to take it on the other side
You will, you know. Find your way that is. Some people get lost. But you won’t.
You’re stronger than you know.
Oh I know you’re already tiring.
Your voice is your disguise.
Your deception is your armour.
Distance…your weapon?
Against…us?
It’s time to come home.
Come home to the hugs.
Come home to the love.
Come home to the music.
Come home to the dancing.
Come home to darkness, and to light…
Being a little tired is better than being nothing at all.
Come home, and we will do it differently this time round.
If it can be lost then it can be won
If it can be touched then it can be turned
All you need is time
All you need is time
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Resolve to...what?
There’s always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day...
Resolutions…
Resolve to…what?
To quit?
To resurrect a lost friendship on the debris of nostalgia?
To save? Yourself, or someone else?
To laugh more?
To buy less expensive shoes?
To buy more expensive shoes?
To heal?
To break?
To travel to the places less-traveled?
To travel to the places well-traveled?
To take more photographs in blackandwhite?
To leave?
To stay?
To crash? Into whom?
To make decisions?
To be willing to have some decisions made for you?
To try?
To stop trying?
To remember, and to forget?
To learn how to bake sinful-chocolate-cake?
To persist?
To desist?
To resist?
To be less Penny Lane?
To be more of someone else?
To be yourself? Alwaysalwaysalways?
To see more of your grandparents?
To dance more?
To destroy that which is comfortably numb?
To preserve that which is comfortably numb?
To start?
To conclude?
To be pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie?
To leave the dark cold hotel rooms?
To stay focused?
To stay distracted?
To face the music?
To escape?
To walk the line?
To not fear the endlessness anymore?
To love the wheel of love, life, and laughter?
To chase?
To flee?
To get a tattoo? Finally?
To locate the appropriate song for death?
To whirl and freewheel?
To savour?
To speed up?
To slow down?
To search? And find?
To be the storm? And the anchor?
Let me be empty
And weightless... and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight...
To feel not good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day...
Resolutions…
Resolve to…what?
To quit?
To resurrect a lost friendship on the debris of nostalgia?
To save? Yourself, or someone else?
To laugh more?
To buy less expensive shoes?
To buy more expensive shoes?
To heal?
To break?
To travel to the places less-traveled?
To travel to the places well-traveled?
To take more photographs in blackandwhite?
To leave?
To stay?
To crash? Into whom?
To make decisions?
To be willing to have some decisions made for you?
To try?
To stop trying?
To remember, and to forget?
To learn how to bake sinful-chocolate-cake?
To persist?
To desist?
To resist?
To be less Penny Lane?
To be more of someone else?
To be yourself? Alwaysalwaysalways?
To see more of your grandparents?
To dance more?
To destroy that which is comfortably numb?
To preserve that which is comfortably numb?
To start?
To conclude?
To be pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie?
To leave the dark cold hotel rooms?
To stay focused?
To stay distracted?
To face the music?
To escape?
To walk the line?
To not fear the endlessness anymore?
To love the wheel of love, life, and laughter?
To chase?
To flee?
To get a tattoo? Finally?
To locate the appropriate song for death?
To whirl and freewheel?
To savour?
To speed up?
To slow down?
To search? And find?
To be the storm? And the anchor?
Let me be empty
And weightless... and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight...
Monday, December 17, 2007
Do you remember?
Remember? Do you remember? Do you? Remember?
Insistent.
Constant.
Annoying.
Do you love me or do you not?
You told me once but I forgot.
Vases that give the impression of being made up by once-shattered-and-then-put-together-again-glass… With millions and zillions of veins running through them…
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.
Do you remember?
Do you?
Do…?
Too many choices…
Saturday or Sunday?
Black or white?
Turquoise Cottage or TGIF?
Train or plane?
Levi’s or Pepe?
Your place or mine?
Some choices are easier to make, than others.
Do you choose to remember, or not?
Poor Orlando! When he was betrayed by the Russian princess, he went to sleep for a week. And when he awoke, the Russian princess was a hazy recollection. And he was free once again.
Must you die for a little while in order to live again?
Must you sleep for a little while in order to forget?
Do you want to forget?
Do you need to forget?
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget
Why do you dance?
Oh. Wait.
Let me alter that.
Do you dance?
With the LIIT and the martini and the Marlboro and the madness and the melody and anyone-who-happens-to-walk-into-your-arms??
When you wake up the next morning, do you remember the night before?
Really?
And if you remember, do you want to forget?
After such knowledge, what forgiveness?
Adam and Eve fall with knowledge… Yet, somehow, “knowledge is power”… Who said that? I forget… It doesn’t really matter…
…hee spent his whole life trying to forget…
…drank away her memory…little at a time…
…never could get drunk enough…to get her off his mind…
…until the time…
Oh, that epiphanic moment!
Is it a moment, really? Or a process…
Has it ceased to matter?
Are you just a cynic tonight?
Or are you reborn, renaissance-d?
Have you found the poetry in the pain?
And are you willing to immortalize it in the landscape of your mind?
Markers of memory…
Parades and festivals and national holidays and commemorations are meant to remind us.
Do not forget.
Do not forget: your history, your people, and your family. You are made up of them.
Do not forget.
Do not.
Don’t.
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Gooseflesh in a tiny monument at 6:00 AM.
The strains of a song that take you back to a gushing river in the mountains.
A drink that tastes of argument.
Phrases that hold coffee-and-cigarettes-on-a-cold-winter-day.
A face on the street that tugs at your memory.
Lilac sheets that dream of bedtime stories.
Anthems that make you feel like you are part of a movement.
The fragrance of freshly mowed grass and a vision of garden treasure-hunts.
A date equated with a howling mob.
The shirt that that will unbutton the touch of betrayal.
Dimples that make you see dead Prime Ministers.
Staircases that lead to ancestral homes in faraway-small-towns.
A loud noise that rips your consciousness into the smithereens of a series of bomb blasts.
The past is past, and the past is present.
I am you, and you are me.
We have remembered, and we have forgotten.
Chronology collapses.
How long till the world will be completed?
How many times will history repeat it?
And what shall we do with this deceptive glimmer of memory?
Drink to it, he said.
Anyone for an LIIT? Or perhaps, a Margarita?
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance.
Insistent.
Constant.
Annoying.
Do you love me or do you not?
You told me once but I forgot.
Vases that give the impression of being made up by once-shattered-and-then-put-together-again-glass… With millions and zillions of veins running through them…
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.
Do you remember?
Do you?
Do…?
Too many choices…
Saturday or Sunday?
Black or white?
Turquoise Cottage or TGIF?
Train or plane?
Levi’s or Pepe?
Your place or mine?
Some choices are easier to make, than others.
Do you choose to remember, or not?
Poor Orlando! When he was betrayed by the Russian princess, he went to sleep for a week. And when he awoke, the Russian princess was a hazy recollection. And he was free once again.
Must you die for a little while in order to live again?
Must you sleep for a little while in order to forget?
Do you want to forget?
Do you need to forget?
Some dance to remember
Some dance to forget
Why do you dance?
Oh. Wait.
Let me alter that.
Do you dance?
With the LIIT and the martini and the Marlboro and the madness and the melody and anyone-who-happens-to-walk-into-your-arms??
When you wake up the next morning, do you remember the night before?
Really?
And if you remember, do you want to forget?
After such knowledge, what forgiveness?
Adam and Eve fall with knowledge… Yet, somehow, “knowledge is power”… Who said that? I forget… It doesn’t really matter…
…hee spent his whole life trying to forget…
…drank away her memory…little at a time…
…never could get drunk enough…to get her off his mind…
…until the time…
Oh, that epiphanic moment!
Is it a moment, really? Or a process…
Has it ceased to matter?
Are you just a cynic tonight?
Or are you reborn, renaissance-d?
Have you found the poetry in the pain?
And are you willing to immortalize it in the landscape of your mind?
Markers of memory…
Parades and festivals and national holidays and commemorations are meant to remind us.
Do not forget.
Do not forget: your history, your people, and your family. You are made up of them.
Do not forget.
Do not.
Don’t.
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame,
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Gooseflesh in a tiny monument at 6:00 AM.
The strains of a song that take you back to a gushing river in the mountains.
A drink that tastes of argument.
Phrases that hold coffee-and-cigarettes-on-a-cold-winter-day.
A face on the street that tugs at your memory.
Lilac sheets that dream of bedtime stories.
Anthems that make you feel like you are part of a movement.
The fragrance of freshly mowed grass and a vision of garden treasure-hunts.
A date equated with a howling mob.
The shirt that that will unbutton the touch of betrayal.
Dimples that make you see dead Prime Ministers.
Staircases that lead to ancestral homes in faraway-small-towns.
A loud noise that rips your consciousness into the smithereens of a series of bomb blasts.
The past is past, and the past is present.
I am you, and you are me.
We have remembered, and we have forgotten.
Chronology collapses.
How long till the world will be completed?
How many times will history repeat it?
And what shall we do with this deceptive glimmer of memory?
Drink to it, he said.
Anyone for an LIIT? Or perhaps, a Margarita?
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
You're just a cynic tonight...
B.A.S.E
Don't you see the charade is over?
Do you really know her, sweetheart?
Do you really know anyone?
All the messages and the letters and the conversations in the world are not enough for you to believe you have the key to her mind. Well...maybe you do believe you know what's going on inside her head as she looks at you.
Think again.
Oh, innocence!
Haven't you figured it out yet?
This is her playground...my playground...your playground...their playground...
Don't expect life to turn into love-fest simply because the time is ripe for you to fall in love.
Integrity?
What's that??
There are the fairy tales, and the blockbusters.
But this is the real world.
This can't be happening
Too many secrets.
So perhaps you'd rather not know. At all.
All right, then. I suppose ignorance is a valid choice.
But you don't need to go looking for disaster to find you...
4:00 PM on a Tuesday afternoon, a lone piece of lingerie in an incongruous setting, a photograph someone inadvertently posted on Picasa, a glance exchanged across a table... there are a million ways in which your world can fall apart.
And it will happen, you know.
A lightning shock of tears as you realize, once and for all, that you don't really know anyone at all.
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold... and broken hallelujah
Beaded curtains.
I see something beyond them.
Smoke and glinting glasses; I can hear laughter.
Knowledge is power.
At least I will go on and have a good time tonight.
So life swirls on... and it's easy to get lost in the maze of mojitos, madness and melancholy music.
Looking for a warning sign?
Waiting for a cue?
Look at all the lonely people. Eleanor Rigbys of the world. Testament to the fact that sometimes, there are no signs and no cues.
You wait and wait and wait... Life passes by... BAM- you're sixty-five, solitary, still waiting...
When you get what you want
But not what you need
Every now and then, there is a... moment?
The unexpected message, the headline, the winning catch, the blog-post, the kiss, the friend, the statement...
Secrets dissolve.
Flashpoints of honesty.
Things left unsaid turn into equations. Years are wandered through. Tongues that are tied and twisted finally speak. Dragons are reborn. Promises are made, and kept.
The world sparkles, and it looks like your Broadway musical has finally taken off.
Lights will guide you home
The Caprioshkas glimmer and the sunlight shimmers.
Carpe diem.
It's the kind of moment that will keep you going...
And when crossroads are arrived at, you will remember the hysterical laughter at that table... that stunning music video they aired in 1998... that unforgettable dance... the biting mountain air on a certain morning... your feet sinking into the dewy grass... grapes soaked in honey... sputtering bonfires... the last chapter of that book... the girl staring out at you from the cover of a National Geographic... the way that certain fragrance will always remind you of a certain album...
And maybe...there won't be another Tuesday afternoon.
You're still a cynic, darling.
Just not tonight, it seems.
525,600 minutes- how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
...
How about love?
Measure in love.
p-u-r-g-e
Don't you see the charade is over?
Do you really know her, sweetheart?
Do you really know anyone?
All the messages and the letters and the conversations in the world are not enough for you to believe you have the key to her mind. Well...maybe you do believe you know what's going on inside her head as she looks at you.
Think again.
Oh, innocence!
Haven't you figured it out yet?
This is her playground...my playground...your playground...their playground...
Don't expect life to turn into love-fest simply because the time is ripe for you to fall in love.
Integrity?
What's that??
There are the fairy tales, and the blockbusters.
But this is the real world.
This can't be happening
Too many secrets.
So perhaps you'd rather not know. At all.
All right, then. I suppose ignorance is a valid choice.
But you don't need to go looking for disaster to find you...
4:00 PM on a Tuesday afternoon, a lone piece of lingerie in an incongruous setting, a photograph someone inadvertently posted on Picasa, a glance exchanged across a table... there are a million ways in which your world can fall apart.
And it will happen, you know.
A lightning shock of tears as you realize, once and for all, that you don't really know anyone at all.
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold... and broken hallelujah
Beaded curtains.
I see something beyond them.
Smoke and glinting glasses; I can hear laughter.
Knowledge is power.
At least I will go on and have a good time tonight.
So life swirls on... and it's easy to get lost in the maze of mojitos, madness and melancholy music.
Looking for a warning sign?
Waiting for a cue?
Look at all the lonely people. Eleanor Rigbys of the world. Testament to the fact that sometimes, there are no signs and no cues.
You wait and wait and wait... Life passes by... BAM- you're sixty-five, solitary, still waiting...
When you get what you want
But not what you need
Every now and then, there is a... moment?
The unexpected message, the headline, the winning catch, the blog-post, the kiss, the friend, the statement...
Secrets dissolve.
Flashpoints of honesty.
Things left unsaid turn into equations. Years are wandered through. Tongues that are tied and twisted finally speak. Dragons are reborn. Promises are made, and kept.
The world sparkles, and it looks like your Broadway musical has finally taken off.
Lights will guide you home
The Caprioshkas glimmer and the sunlight shimmers.
Carpe diem.
It's the kind of moment that will keep you going...
And when crossroads are arrived at, you will remember the hysterical laughter at that table... that stunning music video they aired in 1998... that unforgettable dance... the biting mountain air on a certain morning... your feet sinking into the dewy grass... grapes soaked in honey... sputtering bonfires... the last chapter of that book... the girl staring out at you from the cover of a National Geographic... the way that certain fragrance will always remind you of a certain album...
And maybe...there won't be another Tuesday afternoon.
You're still a cynic, darling.
Just not tonight, it seems.
525,600 minutes- how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
...
How about love?
Measure in love.
p-u-r-g-e
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