Month: April 2008

I got someone to tell me how to use wordpress, one of the simplest blogs around.  Thank for tech support for idiots like me

It takes but a small breath and the tension can ease.  What seemed unbearable insteads lifts you to heights.  Gasping out love becomes breathing and sadness a distant suffocation.  I live for those moments when it just looks like one is about to fall off the cliff, you glide up and away into satisfaction. Up up and away is how it feels until flying becomes likes breathing.  And you think to youself why was this so hard to do?  The freeness just makes you dizzy, and life is being lived and you are taking on the day, and I say to myself I can do this! 

And then the moment passes, hurt gasses me, making me want to blow my brains out and what was once part of me now stands apart and looks at me with distaste.   Bile clogs me and I slowly sink into whine’s pool.  Breathing becomes a matter of doing rather than being.  And then again, Karma bitch slaps me, and I remember for each happy breath out, I have to breathe in bitterness and disappointment.  And we get better at it, we have to because if we think about it, it can become yet another task of the day, and if we just let it, our body just takes over and it goes back under the hood. 

Make sense?  Breath in….

 Breathe out slowly……

You ever look at a time as you experience and think to youself this is the best its ever going to be.  Its funny how many of those moments I have had, and yet they keep coming.  But each feels complete that you think that it will never occur again.  Its why I think pictures are so great since they can bring you that sense of completeness for even a fleeting second.  As much I love them, I take very few perhaps in a way to savor it more but more likely because I expect others to record.  Pretty ironic considering my infatuation with words.  The recorder waits for others to do the heavy lifting.  Think about it, even with each of the digital age, it still takes that one person in the group who is a image fetishist.  Maybe its the arrogance in some of us who believe in imagination rather than reality.  Thats another theme of mine, what is illusory takes precendent over what can be touched.  I rather live in dreams than drink this bitter reality of mine.  So my life is a series of struggles on whether I should choose whats in my head or take the real trip. But then again, arent road trips overrated?

I dont know much but I know this, dreams can be shaped and they dont let you down.  Atleast that is what I am telling myself as I prepare to throw away another night of illusion.  And you thought I was going to say something profound.  Socrates, I aint but a plagiarist of life I sure is. 

I won my first writing contest focused on time and the pain of writing.  Perhaps it was a foreshadowing of sorts since I find putting words down so difficult now.  I guess life is a cell, that once was part of you becomes an independent organ that is suspircious of your current motives. What sounded so brillian in my mind now appears clichs-ish and whiny. 

So where does one go?  Perhaps this is the last gasp of gibberish that some monkey can make into shakespeare.  Most likely, its one of many toilet paper words that I am using to wipe my mind’d ass.  It may seem productive,and relieving but end of the day, it’s still shit.   

No can do. I cant give back the 30 seconds I just stole from you for reading this.  EH HEY!

Another week begins just like an idea.  So much potential, so many things to correct.  I love beginnings because so much seems possible, so much can be done.  And as long as the focus is on change, things move but then time attacks and old fights begin their assault on your attention, simmering egos burst open, and the to do list that seemed so doable now reads like a charge sheet of unfinished crimes.  But the power to change remains unless we purposefully forget it.  Maybe its age.  I know before it didnt take much for me to get re-energized about starting over, but now it seems the burden to remove the old layers of failures gets heavier and heavier.  Instead of a new beginning seeming like a sunrise, it now appears to be setting down on me.

Happy Monday, oh where art thou?

Many words, many feelings but most of all many ideas. 

Each day is a recollection of what could have been, each look back on what should be, and then the page turns and the blankness glares back.  I didnt start out to forget but it appears the only way to begin is to have never walked that path again.  Constantly I struggle with looking back and jumping into the shallowness of close what ifs.  I look up and the shimmer of difficulty glides away with experience, and instead of simple words, the high master of pretentiousness takes over. 

Ugh.  Thats the best I could come up with when I pretend to be yet another South Asian writer.  It seems like we are word and adjective sluts.  No metaphor we have not stripped, no word that we cannot thesausarize so what used to be shit is now fecal matter of a food and mental by product.  The whiteness taunts me.  What looks easy to soil with splashes of wanna be wit is now littered with blankets of windy flatness. 

 I am not sure what these fingers want, and I sure as hell will never figure out what my heart does.  So I click away, perhaps to some epiphany nirvana, and to those whose minutes I store, you can claim them at my death in the chapter 11 section of my afterlife. 

Aha, a somewhat deep sentence that says nothing to end a whiny post! I have reached nirvana.