*NEW* Recent blog entries

July 31, 2007

Miasma and the top five reasons for sex with the ex

7 comments
I really want to sleep, but I think I should eat before that. I should also get myself to a doctor asap to start the thyroid medicines and get a mammography done as well. Sigh. Much work around the house as well. One does get tired, a little too frequently now, and there’s so much to do. Anyway.

The two things foremost on my mind are parents and ex-boyfriend; and both are topics I would rather not dwell on. (And as go with such topics, they are still always on your mind) To begin on parents is daunting. They represent love, anger, extreme frustration, unasked questions, unnamed blames, guilt and such, extreme hopelessness on both sides that… It’s just tiring at times to think that there was a time when it was not like this.

And to think that there is actually an exact time that I can pinpoint when it all ended, the moment of truth, the instance of cognizance, the loss of innocence, the death of trust, whatever – rather dramatically and again so in a manner so fucking ‘scripted’ that it makes my skin crawl to think am being divinely manipulated.

(burp – took a pause, had dinner, and meanwhile…)

… have completely lost my earlier train of thought. Though from the gist of what I was writing, thank god for short-term memory loss. Or voluntary amnesia. Am I bitter? No, I am too busy grasping what’s happening all around me; because while my happiness is all about me, the other stuff, it’s almost mirrored to some or the other degree with people all around me. It’s the same shit!

Am I angry? Hmm. More like impatiently incredulous. Like HOW big a fraud those self-help books are. They don’t help at all! Their solution to break-ups and loneliness? Oh why, but believe, believe that you are worthy of love and it will all come to you. Right and holy shit, I did not know that fact. So I shall walk up to the ex and say, “Listen, that thing you said about the persistent fool, I think I am just persistent, you are the fool,” and then add how I know I am the best thing in the world for him and then wait for him to fall in love with me. Yeah? Of course not! Here the self-help books will add helpfully, as a footnote often, that you should be open to someone else loving you. So why the fuck, couldn’t they in the first place say it directly that the ONLY solution to breaking up is finding a new one and if you cannot find a new one then basically you are a moron who’s going to be alone and spend her/his life reading self-help books.

And no, I have not bought any self-help book. I have two, both gifts from my dad. Anyway, am obviously going all over the place. The food is nicely settled in. My stomach behaves like the stomach of kids suffering from starvation. It’s all sucked in and flat when there’s no food inside and it becomes round when you put something in. Damn.
Sleepy-sleepy. Good night.

PS: And the top 5 reasons why sex with the ex rocks are :-

1. There is no awkward understanding body strength moments, you know he can handke your 'weight'... unlike when the guy thinks he can flip you over without him sliding out and when he does try the flip, he strains a muscle or something.

2. You know he wouldn't look alarmed, faint, start laughing or raise his eyebrows at the queef. He'd know it's a queef.

3. You know you will like it (if you don't and you're still doing it, you're a moron) There are no grossing out moments when you are doubtful if you really want to know what lies underneath or when it's over and you realise that for all the chemistry and sparks, the sex sucked.

4. You know what to do after sex, whether you can cuddle, or snuggle up close or lie sprawled on your stomach breathing heavily and crying the lawrd's name.

5. You are mindful of each other's frailties and bed-follies... slow the pace if one is panting, change over if the other is exhausted; unlike someone going at you like an Energiser bunny.

July 30, 2007

Baby, I love you, I’ll cheat on you

3 comments
So everyone is cheating on everyone, or almost everyone. And as usual – rather as some have suggested – this again might be one of those things I seem to be the only one to realize bloody late. Or at least the magnitude of it.

Fidelity, it seems, is fast going out of fashion. And it does not matter whether it’s the guy who is cheating or the girl, whether it’s an old relationship or a recent one, whether it’s marriage or living in. It’s almost becoming fashionable to say you have a roving eye, and if given a chance – then there are those who create the chance – there’d be more than your eye that would do the roving.

So they are recently married after substantial years of courtship. Now since I have been unable to manage any relationship beyond two years – yes, it does say something about me and that the men perhaps were not to blame all the time, but since this is my blog and my perspective, we shall say it’s always the men’s fault, okay? – so basically, in my blook/blog, anything that is more than two years is substantial. They had been courting well beyond the five-year mark. And then they got married, it should have been a happy union, a culmination of long years of dating, wherein we suppose, like all other couples, they too had their teething troubles. So they overcame all that and got married. And now she has met someone recently and their chemistry is undeniable. She has already spoken to her parents; while she waits to break the news to the man she is married to.

So almost a decade of togetherness can be abandoned for two months of zing? Or does it run deeper? Was it that while the courtship lasted it was easy, and once the marriage proved tough, you want out? Or did he change and does the new one offer something that is now missing in the earlier relationship? Or is it simply hormones?

And there is Her, out of one relationship of convenience and into another relationship of convenience, conveniently having declared in both cases that it would last as far it can, without much investment of emotion or time. So she spends an entire evening flashing another man. Incidentally, the skirt she wore was comfortably knee-length, no way for your fucking panties – or perhaps she was commando? – to flash if you fucking keep your legs closed. And of course I am pissed because it was well, someone I knew who was being flashed. Go flash your own fucking boyfriend.

Of course there’s him who declared that he cannot stop eyeing women. Actually he cannot stop doing those he eyes either, but he accepts that he has a trust issue and an eye issue. Actually his problem is neither, he just keeps thinking that there is something better for him out there. Like so many others who keep looking…

Or he, who challenged norms and rules to be with her. The envy of every other couple, two people who seemed to have it perfect; till he met another and decided this was his soulmate. But they are together, and there are tender moments. Did she stick by him? Did he see sense? Are they both compromising because they are too used to each other?

And there’s them. Both have cursed each other to the sky, both have declared that They were the worst thing to happen to the other. Both have spent a considerable time breaking up and making out. In one of the breaking-up periods, he went and screwed everything he could screw. She thinks he did it when they were together. Now he says he is a one-woman-man, she says she is a one-man-woman too. They are not dating anymore. Neither will answer as to why then are they still, ‘together’. She fears the answer perhaps, he has never been known to volunteer information and usually lies when asked direct. Their togetherness now is perhaps convenience (there’s the word again) or an inability to find someone who’d understand their quirks – they did tolerate a lot from each other when they were together. Or just a fear of loneliness and a stop-gap till either finds another or either has really had enough? Who knows, they don’t for sure. Meanwhile, he checks out the girls he likes. And she counts everyday he hasn’t found another as a small, short-lived, over-anytime blessing.

Oh before I forget, there’s also them, the star couple, they live together. But she has a thing for having a thing for people who are doing well… she even asks him if it’s okay to kiss another. He meanwhile is pretty liberal but has a set of ethics, which are interesting but hard to decipher. She must have cheated on him, for I don’t see him as a cheat; but he did with another. Why? Was he hurting? Is their relationship an ‘open’ one? He seems to care for her, does it not matter then whether they are loyal to each other?

Or am I the only idiot feeling a little worried and a whole lot scared by all this. Love and lust have become like a buy-one-get-the-other-free offer. Relationships seem to come with an attachment or pre-signed agreement of “I will do what and who I want” from both sides. So I hear and am told that it has been happening for AGES… but at least there were some who didn’t do it, who held the other and what they have as sacrosanct. Now, everyone seems to be happily sleeping around.

What ees happening?

PS: Why the fuck am I worrying about fidelity though, am supposedly bloody single.

July 29, 2007

Bloody sunday

2 comments
Ring.
Automated call from service provider.

Ring.
Call-centre reminding about bill payment.

Ring.
Broadband connection provider.

Ring.
Previous newspaper man reminding about previous unpaid bill.

Vacuous words.

All horoscopes, astrologers, tarot readers and the entire divine shebang has declared that while my career will soar, the love prospects in my life are dismal. All of them quickly add that no divine portent is fool-proof. Argh. I just want it all out of my head.

We (read me) spend more time worrying and thinking about love than actually indulging in it.

What is REALLY getting my goat is the fact that there are no Rule Books to follow. There’s something on giving compliments, on having a perfect first date, even the right way to kiss and hold hands; but there’s no book on how to un-learn things about togetherness etc and yet live a happy, fulfilling, single life.

Of course there are people who do it; what I am trying to say is that when you are brought up believing that the logical step after education and career is matrimony and the aim of every, other normal individual is to find a suitable partner and make a family… things become some what confusing when you suddenly realize that dude, that’s not the way at all. THAT. It’s irritating to think that we are all made to believe that there will be love and all that’s associated with it and when suddenly things point suspiciously to other things, people turn around and say, “But that IS life.”

So how about letting in on the truth right from the younger days? But then imagine, telling children that they will grow up to be alone and will have to do everything themselves and wont have any to talk to but telephone service providers and suddenly the child might not want to grow at all. Motivation would lack… or perhaps would grow up thinking only about the ‘material’ things in life. Hmmm… if I had a daughter (ever!), will I tell her that “Baby, you don’t trust the people you call friends because they might hurt you, love but don’t give your heart completely because the guy might play with it etc?” Hmmm. So life is never a bed of roses, but how and when does when tell that to a human being to make the shock lesser when eventually you do realize the truth?

July 27, 2007

Moments to lose

4 comments
It’s nothing to be angry about
These moments…
These are all we have.

Narazgi ki baat nahin hain
Yeh pal hain,
Saath yahi hain.
(Mere yaar by Advaita)

I wonder if we have sex for the pleasure of the orgasm, or if we have sex so that we can get some of the tenderness that (supposedly and ideally) comes before and after the act. The holding, the touching, the gentle feeling, the comfort in snuggling up to another, the languishing with a rather satiated sense of fatigue…

Nothing is tenderer, or at times more erotic, than having your face cradled in a palm that feels like it WANTS to touch you. Or have a tentative finger run slowly up your skin, feeling its smoothness, toying with its texture. Touches that linger, that are not hurried to unclasp something or strip something else. Feeling skin against your skin… the leathery texture of the palm, the soft hair on the arms, the prickliness of the evening stubble, the roughness of the soles, the power in the calves, the width of a thigh, the smoothness of a chest that can be crushed against… Sigh. Of course this is the female perspective!

At times, you can feel it bottled up inside -- the passion, the energy, the need for physical exertion -- you can feel it bubbling within, simmering, seething and then threatening to explode in one, big, noisy rapture. You will feel it tingling right under your dermis. It's like craving a kiss. One, long, devouring kiss that makes the head swim, the breathing difficult and sucks the soul out. And of course that’s not possible with everyone who you kiss, so I wonder.

I wonder if one waits for the connection to get sex or should one just jump into bed: Instant gratification instead of imaginary satisfaction? What's the take?

July 25, 2007

Chomp chomp

4 comments
Woke up at 5.30 this morning.
The dogs are running madly around the house.
Have been eating all day.
Two Snickers bars.
Two pieces of peda.
One rasgulla.
Was eyeing the samosas and dhokla as well.
Bought anardana churan.
Filed work.
Networked.
Now it's crazy windy on my terrace.
That means back with the bandana - you cannot sit without it, feels like seven blow dryers from different sides.Though it's beautifully cool, the about-to-rain breeze. Ah.
I've just had a rolled chapati with strawberry jam.
I want to eat more.
Now I really want to eat a fat, juicy hot dog with tangy mustard.
Some fresh strawberries would be nice too.
And I dont mind that cheesy lasangna from Slice of Italy, yummity-yum it is.
It's officially binge day. I think I knew it the time I woke up.
F.E.E.D. me.

PS: And no, I don't throw up. i digest it all. And burn it up too.

July 24, 2007

Hah, it IS all about me.

11 comments
Long time, no write. Actually, it's more like a case of lots of write, no post. Just didn't want to. At times, there's nothing to say, at others there's too much. Then of course are the thoughts that are forever developing, transforming, changing. Ideas and perceptions that grow, expand, turn into things and entities you had never considered. And people. It's strange the many types of people we have around us. Just strange...

To be very honest though, I didn't write because I was feeling selfish. Selfish about my time, my mindspace, my thoughts, my words, me. As someone said the other day, "So you're growing up," when I narrated certain strange reactions of mine to situations that had not seen me reacting like this earlier. For one, I have not been out of the house -- like a party, club etc -- for close to a month now. I just don't feel the need to... step out or meet people. And for those who REALLY want to meet ME -- not to laugh at me, or call me a freak or point out how I am inadequate etc -- they ALWAYS come home. It might be very few people and such trysts, fewer and far between, but it's nice. To know that in this huge, huge world, when you barricade yourself in your house, there will be few who will still seek you out.

On one hand, it's a thankyou to those who do find time. On the other, it's with a happy sense of letting go that I realise that those I don't meet, are perhaps not even needed in my life. And since wanting people or some people in my life has only turned out leaving me alone and trying to be brave (by myself) each time.... I suddenly realised it's not about other people at all. It's about me (how nice!) and if at all the Me has to be happy, then it's the Me who has to make me happy. I don't know if I am bitter, perhaps not, perhaps that weird yucky taste will go after a while. But I am grateful to my own self for NOT feeling the need. Funny how the year-ending horoscope for 2006 said, "You will welcome the new year with a strong and beautiful partner by your side." Yup, ME!

Each time earlier -- heart break, stress, burn out, family stuff -- I would seek out people. Head out to town and forget everything by immersing myself in people, music, noise, laughter (however forced) and of course, a new relationship. Willy-nilly, wanting-not-wanting, planned-unplanned, every relationship failure was followed by getting into another bound-to-fail relationship. Whether it was bound to fail because it wasn't meant to be or because I consciously chose people with whom things would sour after a while... I am not sure, yet. I am thinking on it, it will clear out in my head sooner than later. (Erm, I realised that despite all failed relationships; there has been only one where I was dumped; after that one, it's always been me who had walked out each time... and... HMM. This is another post, some day...)

However, this time, it's been different. I did not go on a mad party binge. I did not get into a relationship, definitely not knowingly and have been so wired AGAINST anything of the emotional-sort that even subconsciously, I have switched off relationships. Why? Because I don't want it to be another joke anymore. There are lives involved... and perhaps not just mine. Hearts. Sanity even. And more than anything else, I don't want to get into another relationship l because I WANT to believe that there IS love. Perhaps I am not supposed to get it --- there are MANY people alone in this world to prove that not everyone meets their soulmate... or perhaps the soulmate doesn't see it that way -- but I DO want to believe in it.

I do want to believe that men and women love each other so much that they KNOW they want to be together for life...whatever that might entail. That they will stand by each other, celebrate the good times and hold hands during the bad ones. I want to believe that two people want to be together and create a third who they can love and teach and protect and cherish like the way perhaps their parents did for them. I want to believe that people want to start a family, for love. I want to believe that it is possible for two people to not completely like everything about each other and still love each other. I simply want to believe that Love exists. I am okay (gradually it will get better) with the understanding that perhaps it's not for me.

And no, I am not blaming anyone. Someone said recently, "You are no homemaker either." True. I am shit when it comes to managing a house compared to my mother... or even his mother. But... neither of our mothers was a journalist, doesn't that count, please? I did try, couldn't do it all. Used to get really tired after work. And am sorry. It wasn't just him. I was at my worst too... If he lost his temper, I was not like my mother, who I have seen keeping quiet, even when she was right, to avoid an unpleasant scene at home. I break glasses, not always, but well, I do. I remember vividly when I smashed a beautiful touch lamp to little bitty pieces on the stairs... I was SO angry with him. But... it's over.

And I did not date anyone... it's been a year. Oh, I have tried, I tell you. Not like consciously stepping out with an I-want-a-relationship agenda, but I have tried. The usual meet new people, single-mingle, strut your stuff thing. Joined salsa too. That didn't work because I kept remembering him saying, "Real men don't dance, they groove." (Smiles) He was the worst relationship I ever had.... simply because I lost all control. Over my temper, my thoughts, emotions, sense of well-being, jealousy, moods, life, love. I cannot give in half measures. And all that when he never once -- unless you call a drug-induced euphoric phase where he promised love and many babies and togetherness and wanting to see every inch of my body and said how he'd hold me each time I wanted to, ha, ha -- he never once said that he loved me.

Ha ha. In fact while I was... the time I was discovering about Little Dream he was announcing to his friends that in fact, he did not love me at all. Never had. So. Well. Guess am not that smart. But I think it's beginning to make sense. And it taught me things the last decade of disastrous dating could not--- I am not meant to be loved. To love, yes, not the other way round. I am supposed to love and let go (not that my wanting to hold on makes any difference!) and be alone. So I shower it all on my two dogs, and oh god, they give it back. With every lick, nibble, wagging tale, swinging tongue and bed-mucking....my dogs LOVE me. Even if I am a terrible home-maker.

PS: In retrospect/edit mode, the thing about "am not meant for love" is not meant weepily! It simply means, perhaps not the homey-holding-hand sort of love. Perhaps it has to be something else or maybe I get busy in a whole lot of things... Like what I am trying to say IS: It is NOT (as) scary a thought. The thought of loving someone and NOT having them in your life... or of them marrying someone else or of touching the other the way they touched you (that one's the worst). It sort of does not matter anymore, having or not etc... once you know your own heart for sure.

July 17, 2007

I am not ugly anymore

7 comments
I woke up one morning and realized I loved you.
I woke up another morning and realized you had made a complete idiot out of me.

I woke up one morning and realized you said you were a friend.
I woke up another morning and realized you wanted to be a friend for your own malicious pleasures.

I woke up one morning and realized that I was very popular.
I woke up another morning and realized that popularity does not mean friends.

I woke up one morning and thought you had changed, perhaps become kinder.
I woke up another morning and realized your kindness was convenience.

I woke up one morning feeling miserable that you did not love anything about me.
I woke up another morning and realized that you don’t even know how to love.

I woke up one morning and wished I would be so beautiful that I’d blind you.
I woke up another morning and realized that I don’t want to feel ugly for you anymore.

I woke up one morning and realized now you sleep next to someone else.
I woke up another morning and realized I loathe waking up everyday.

July 15, 2007

Maybe, baby

2 comments
Got up this morning... or rather in the wakeful hours between the fitful bits I call sleep and jotted this down. I am sleeping only till the medicine lasts and then I am up the moment the current dose is out of my system. Last night, had passed out without locking the doors. And the first alarming thought on regaining consciousness was: Dude, if they steal the office laptop and other equipment, I hope they kill me too, there's no way I can pay back the office.

It was 3 am and a song -- that I dont even have on my computer and I dont know the lyrics of -- was blaring inside my head -- and wrote this because I wanted to scream but could not because my throat is swollen shut. Lightly based on the song in my head (dunno it's name), but the tune is clear...and is sort of mixed with another tune. I don't care, it's in my head and am singing it. As in singing it inside my head. Just had the medicine and can feel it coming on. Think Golu Dawg should be arrested for female harrassment. He REALLY troubles little Loona...and yet, she cuddles up to him and sleeps. What the fuck. If something happens to me, who will look after my kids?

Maybe baby

If you had 10 years left,
10 years more or less,
Would you call it a curse
Or would you think you're bloody blessed?

Would you go on a shopping spree
Or just give it all off for free?
Would you count every second you have,
Or lie through it all and laugh?


Or will you say, maybe
This is gonna get some more crazy
And I feel no pain
For there's nothing left to gain.

And then when you lie,
When you lie on your dying bed,
Would you care for the ones a,round
Or wonder 'bout those you never found?

Or simply say, baby
It's always been this crazy
And I still feel no pain
For there was nothing ever to gain.

(whistles)

ps: Can't log on for too long as head swims majorly, so 'wrote' this and then typed it out. felt reassuring, like old times.

July 14, 2007

Stark

2 comments
Sweet and beautiful things.
Those who care for your well being.
Someone to hold you when your body hurts.
To laugh together at funny scenes in movies.
No pain.
Look out and just see openness.
Meet someone and not doubt.
Laugh.
Cook
Want to eat
Sleep peacefully

Run, run, run, run, run to that place where it all ends. Where it stops. Where I can rest. And not worry. Or hurt. Or pine for what I don’t know…not even sure anymore. A year has gone by. So much has changed. July 10th, she died. 120 per minute the heart beat. Normal and healthy. Normal and healthy. Nothing is.

And why? For who? For what? Is it a joke? Who’s it on? I am sitting here. Just sitting here. Unable. To? Just unable. Gnaws and gnaws and gnaws. A year. Already?

First Golu, now Loona. How many more? But it does not go. The guilt. Or the need to love. To give. Because sometimes, often, it chokes me. Like now it’s bottled inside, making breathing difficult. My eyes hurt.

It was all so sacred. What did I trade it for? For who? For what?

“I am sorry I could not give you’ll everything…” he said.

Why? I did not think like that. Not once. Not once. Why break me now? My not asking is not blaming you. But don't you see I cannot depend. On anyone.

I never read Virginia Woolf. Mrs Dalloway scares me. If I read Virginia, I know what will happen.

July 4, 2007

On memoirs and memories

2 comments
Was going through old txt and doc files and found a half written post from June 12th. Completing it.

Hmm. I had always believed – at least as far back as I can remember thinking about the issue of past life – that I was either a witch or a gypsy or a nomad of sort…someone who moved from place to place, saw many different faces she called friends, and many different places she called home. The tarot reader told me that most probably I was an herbalist, a healer in my past life. And I fell for someone who comes to me to be healed, he falls for me too, but he goes away and I die a lonely and bitter death. (I had told her I could take whatever she'd tell me!). Maybe I thought I was a gypsy etc because from the time I can remember – and even the vague snatches that form your toddler-memories – I have been shifting cities, schools, houses, addresses, roll numbers… I did that living with my parents till 20 and after that… I have been changing homes. :) This 9-month-old blog of mine is testimonial to at least three distress-calls due to sudden-home-shifting. I think it’s “written” in my “destiny” that I am supposed to keep moving. And never settle down or settle for anything… or anyone? Hmm.

That would be in direct conflict with the ideas I have (had?) grown up with. From childhood I have/had grown up romanticizing the perfect scenario: a place where you live with your family is called home, those who don’t mind the way you look in the morning – and not because they are drunk or on an acid trip or will never bother seeing you again – are family, and you share happy times and good times with family and bloody well stand by when in trouble. My parents had a love marriage. Which is still on. And they are SO different that I am scared to even get into the reasons WHY they are together. (Before some of you jump on me saying, “Hey you are talking about your parents!” bla bla bla…) I love my parents. Dearly. Almost as if they are my only hope in humanity….humanity that has not/won’t give up on me. And they are too! But. Will I marry someone as domineering like Papa? Nope. Will I marry someone who is the epitome of pessimism and from the books I read to the movies I watch, she doesn’t match anything? Nope. And yet, they are together.

You and I and many others might question or downright scoff at how and why our parents are together – have heard umpteen comments on “I don’t want to have a marriage like theirs” – but are we even capable of that? Despite the number of times I have heard friends and people in general site their parents’ failed marriage or someone else’s for NOT wanting to get married, am yet to meet anyone who says, “So what? I will ensure mine does not turn out like that.” I have not said it either: Because somewhere, we all know that it takes HELL of a lot to make a marriage or a relationship work*. And quite unlike our parents who (mostly) never had preconditions, or one partner willingly under-stepped, we are pretty clear that if the other doesn’t put in his/her share, we’re out of it. Or perhaps not even in it.
(*Not all marriages and relationships collapse because of adjustment issues. Some such associations should NOT have happened at all.)

And yet, today or now, when we all know that the other too is (usually) measuring things, how do we let our guard down? How do we get ready to give all without thinking of the consequences – to us – later? Of course it doesn’t sound like ‘love’ because love is giving unconditionally, etc. But dude, I am not talking love. Love and marriage and being with someone are completely separate things. Or so I have learnt (and they never tell you that in a fairy tale).

The first books my Dad got me were Thumbelina, Tom Thumb, Snow White- Red Rose and some Russian book of fairy tales where all the princes where called Ivan. This was the book where I learnt the word ‘scythe’. And both Tom Thumb and Thumbelina taught me the same lesson: if you are small for your size, you better be bloody remarkable and stand out. Funny, even as a kid, I did not like the prince-with-wings in Thumbelina; he was such a… (hmm?!) Not my type, let’s put it that way. I would rather she have fallen for the swallow; he had character. He came back. As for Snow White and the other Snow White-Red Rose and Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella…dude, they were all ‘white’. So it was pretty obvious that men liked women who were fair-skinned. Check out Amar Chitra Katha as well: all the goddess figures and ‘good’ women are fair while all the demons and witches and crones are ‘dark’. You have Kali who is dark and well, she IS dark. Funny, funny, funny.

Funnier still was the way I tried to ‘get’ fair – I was 12-years-old and had a Punjabi boyfriend, my first boyfriend, and Punjabi men can deny it till doom’s day, but show ‘em a chitti kudi and they’d be ready to go to jail for her – so I tried ‘getting’ fair by applying Fair & Lovely (guaranteed lighter skin in four weeks, the loveliness is your discretion) and got bloody, big pimples instead. My skin reacted and as I could use no fairness cream, I have remained dark since. Grin. Ai-yum-luvving-yit.

PS: What no one realizes is that all fair women are opportunists: They leave their families and run away with the man who shows them the brightest future ahead. Check: It’s always fucking ‘Prince’ Charming; she’d never fall for the chief-of-staff.

PS 1: Erm, the “fair women” does not include fair-skinned women who are dark at heart, okay? (Realised that some of my closest female friends are fair. FUCKING fair. Haha. They'd have my booblets for calling them opportunist. Aaaaaaahahaha)

PS 2: Am removing Princess Loona from here and shifting her completely to Clit Chatting: will keep posting update-excerpts here. As feedback today said: “Your blog is getting confusing!”

July 3, 2007

Sometimes...

2 comments
Sometimes, over time and things and much water under the bridge, you realize things about people you have known. Facets to them that you didn’t know existed or didn’t even bother thinking about or assumed wrongly.

It could be good things. Like realizing that the only thing stopping your very-talented friend from wowing the world is stage fright. Or how your in-control-of-herself friend can be naively in love…again and again. Or how your mortified-of-technology mother wants to learn ‘the Internet’ to be able to talk to you. Or wonder why the maid got a little ‘hedge’ plant and put it in a basket… as a surprise. Or even the cat -- which is not supposed to be an affectionate animal, particularly if it’s not yours – remembers you and jumps onto your lap purring, even months later when you meet it. Or your always-on-the-go-boss will leave everything at the mention of good food. And takes the whole office with him. (And still get the work done). Or how the unlikeliest of people will spend a good chunk of an early evening off with you, sharing their time; without asking for anything in return.

Or how some things remain a constant while simply appearing to change. Funny how when I wrote in college – and won consecutive inter-college story writing competitions – my college creative writing society refused to publish my work. Didn’t write a word for them after that. Much like the refusal to acknowledge my blog by certain some. It could be bad writing, but at least acknowledge it (grin). Like people and relationships too.

Each relationship sort of makes your I-don’t-want-this list clearer. However, there are two questions: Why did you want it in the first place and how will you remember your entire list to know exactly what all you didn’t want? And lately, it’s just so t.i.r.i.n.g the entire charade of Everything. But I am not talking about it in an oh-I-am-so-tired-way, it’s in a more I-am-dead-bored-of-it-way. It’s like dude, bugger off and go find someone else. A relationship or having someone in your life is not just about the next cuddle or the next phone call or even the next trip together. At times there’s much more involved; or it could also be considered very little. Like life and death, basic respect for another’s life, a single thought for another’s well-being – particularly when unwell, like giving space to another viewpoint to breathe, letting go of at least few character quirks and acknowledging the fact, that the Other with you, is a human being. And not just someone to manipulate, use and discard at your own will. Anyway…

An evening of conversation (a rarity for me) later, a friend said, “If we take out that one word from our association with people, that one word – POSSIBILITY – half our fuck-ups are over. If we stop thinking whether that person will be with us for the next 10 years, or sleep with us that night and just take it as a THERE…” ß All that because I mentioned enrolling myself into relationship rehab. The NEED to get over It(ch) is immense but the effort put in and the output are not matching. There are lapses. And if those lapses deepen, it all becomes raw and bleeds. And you feel ashamed of yourself for feeling like an arsehole all over again: because you can SO see WHY you don’t want it and yet… And because there is a “yet” despite everything, you know you are an arsehole. However, it’s not to say there’s love etc… but I do wonder, WHY don’t I hate?

Perhaps because you realize that not just the past, but most of the present isn’t worth anything either: not thoughts, mind space, emotions and definitely not time. Like Friend mentioned as well: “Life is always in binary. There’s always a yes or a no.”

July 2, 2007

Chapter 3: The Flooding Orgasms

6 comments
From the last chapter you read: And then without warning, Princess Loona felt herself begin to start climaxing. Right there in the Waters of Wisdom, before all the people gathered. It was bad news, her orgasms were always bad news…

Given Loona’s regal birth and the Secret No One Spoke Of , each time Loona orgasmed, there was a flood in some part of the world. When Loona had just discovered the phenomenon of the Orgasm, the floods had been uncontrollable around the world. Each time the sensation arose between Princess Loona’s legs, she could literally feel the world start to churn inside her. News of floods would pour into the House of All Things Planetary at all hours. It was said that these were not just flash floods, the river would flow in the opposite direction when these unannounced floods came.
Read Further: The Flooding Orgasms

Earlier chapters:

Chapter 1: The Chastity Belt
Chapter 2: Sacred Dance & Waters of Wisdom
Princess Loona Glossary

July 1, 2007

Laconically catatonic

2 comments

Loneliness is a strange thing. First, you are scared of it. Then you adapt to it.Gradually, you look for it. Eventually, you relish it.