that heady feeling

the place is literally deserted and there are few people around. the few people engage in muted conversations and i sit behind my screen here, thinking.
it's going to be the last time i ever come back on a saturday for this year and that is sure cause for celebration.
that heady feeling is beginning to return, the feeling of looking up into the sky and not knowing where the blue begins or ends, and not even caring.
life is going to get better now that the busy lull has ended and what remains is the heavy paperwork, but surely, that can be done quickly and there's nothing really to think about.
i foresee more hot afternoons when i can actually breathe and look around and see the world empty, others cramped in airconditioned buildings.
i foresee freedom and the smell of what september should smell like.
i forsee more cities in the blinding darkness and spotlights.
i foresee so many things, myriads of unending possibilities and life is good at this point.
i am who i am and no one else comes close to being me.

in the house downstairs

There's been a Death, in the Opposite House,
As lately as Today-
I know it, by the numb look
Such Houses have - alway-

The neighbours rustle in and out-
The Doctor - drives away-
A window opens like a Pod -
Abrupt - mechanically -

Somebody flings a Mattress out -
The Children hurry by -
They wonder if it died - on that -
I used to - when a Boy -

-Emily Dickinson-

two drinks

the bar seems quiet on a thursday night, usually the case. huddles of people sit together on couches, on tiny red couches, some on high, uncomfortable stools which always make you wonder where your legs should be- to let them swing free or to perch them onto the steel rings fixed to the bottom of the tiny round tables.
smoke wafts, a bored bartender gazes at the crowd, then reads the labels of a few bottles. vodka, jack daniels, chivas.
bottles line the shelves, some full, some half empty. damn, or half full? are you sure?
the huddles of people consist of twenty-somethings, men with their ties undone. you catch the ocassional "fuck" and "asshole" and the slapping of backs, followed by boisterous laughter marking male speech, male talk.
girls saunter by, girlish giggles pierce through the air and you notice the acrid smell of stale cigarette, along with their swaying hips.
chunky earrrings, a funky beaded necklace, big eyes, pouty lips, blusher. slightly plunging necklines and jeans to complete the equation. in the toilets stained with puke on weekends they watch themselves, tranfixed by their own nature in the mirrors as they preen. they adjusts strands of hair, widen their eyes and inspect their pores. they saunter back to their places.
they could be nameless with empty faces, objects existing for the purpose of existence.
red liquid with a slice of lemon. an exceptionally thin black straw. a small shot of vodka, a squeeze of the bottle with red and soda gets pumped into the drink.
the black cushioned high stools are indented by the many who have passed through the gates. a bar table near the glass doors was left unoccupied.

***

two drinks, watching wrestling without seeing, and a wall of bottles.

stupidity

you are nothing.

perhaps circumstances might have conspired to make you the way that you are, but never forget your roots, what you were born as, what you were born with, and look at you now. by keeping silent it does not mean that i do condone your deeds. arrogance is nothing to be proud of and you really do not have anything to be proud of. look at what made you the way you are? are they not the same things that you perceive as weaknessess now?
you are such a farcical person, you live in farce. shrouded with the self-belief that you are everything, you fail to see that people are begining to despise that conceit, that infinite sense of self-worth.
you are really nothing, parade off and stop making a mockery of yourself.
i feel for you.

because

because i have many things on my mind. because i have to be up at 6 or 7am tomorrow morning, being an oral examiner to kids whom i have never seen before and having part of their exam grades resting on my shoulders does not appear to be a welcoming prospect to me. because i do not know the breakdown of the marks as yet and have to panick tomorrow morning. because my colleague got scolded for the same reason and i should just wait to be reprimanded. because i failed 3 people from my class and penalised another hundred (ok this is exaggeration) for not reading the question carefully and not looking carefully enough at the picture. because my class is ill-prepared and it is my fault. because some lamer called "canailou" added me on MSN and is trying to chat with me. because i have an insipid mind.
because i am quite fucked.

***

i dreamt that i cut my hair today, a short crop with an equally short fringe that mortified me but strangely, did not bring me to tears as i remember how i looked astonished at myself in the mirror, images of me in short hair bringing back to mind how i looked fugly in those teenage years. and then i murdered someone and had to run away but was discovered and i dreamt of the cousin with an impending shotgun marriage.
because she is pregnant, because her to-be-husband tried to ask for my number after he sent me back once. because i can't really tell anyone and am typing this out on the world wide web now- ironical isn't it?

***

i have been thinking about typing about the girl that i am but it just sounds narcisstic and will welcome comments about me, myself and i. and i realise that everything i do will be judged, commented and that truly sucks because freedom is shit.

***

i dread mondays, look forward to weekends and the cycle goes on. i alternate between loving and hating my job and my life, hating everything most of the time and then despising myself because i seem pointless.
but of course i am sounding sad.
holiday by green day reminds me of heady times, times when we had nothing to fear, nothing to look forward to, life like a clear blue sky, and looking up at it, you never knew where the blue began or ended.
now i see a tree in front of me perhaps and i simply stare at it. some days i notice the bark, other days i notice the leaves. sometimes i see the worm eaten leaves and before i know it, a gradual change has occured and the tree is dried and barely alive.

***

you had me. i need to get out. somedays i am grateful that it's gone, that it happened, but other days i rue everything i can think of. when everything's gone, nothing's left and there's nothing to look forward to.
i used to think that it was impossible to have two sides to a person and barely recognising one side when the other existed. now it seems too pretty easy to me that it's scary. i used to think that once this equilibrium was reached, everything would be simple because there is no longer anything for any holding back, or any emotions. now i see that perhaps it is not the way i want to live.
to search for the way i want to live- to find it, a far way off since it will be a difficult search.

***

jolt me.

the bright spots in the night sky

bright spots in the night sky to pierce our eyes, tandem to the black sky, a bountiful accomplice. we sit and stare at the bright spots, imagining them to be figments of movement that we are accustomed to, fitting their movements to scenarios we play out endlessly in our minds, the mind a powerful tool.
there are no clouds now and the sun has been taken down. all so often a powerful loud hum fills the sky, encompassing the space within our ears, reveberating within us until the plane has completed an arc of the sky and wafts into a cloud.
the chairs are a rusted steel, scraping on the brick coloured ground as we take our places. i worry about the white of my shirt as i lean back against the rust. my palms are filled with a coppery substance, the colour of rusted, dried blood.
saltiness fills my nostrils, the by-product of a wonderful sea breeze.
under this magical night sky do i believe that we can truly cease to live and begin to exist.

the lost sheep

we can, if we choose, wander aimlesly over the continent of the arbitrary. Rootless as some winged seed blown about on a serendiptous spring breeze.
Nonetheless, we can in the same breath deny that there is any such thing as coincidence. What's done is done, what's yet to be is clearly yet to be, and so on. in other words,sanwiched as we are between the "everything" that is behind us and the "zero" beyond us, ours is an ephemeral exitence in which there is neither coincidence nor posibility.
In actual practice, however, distinctions between the two interpretations amount to precious little. A state of affairs (as with most face-offs between interpretations) not unlike calling the same food by two different names.

- a wild sheep chase