27.3.11

advice

Love's Secret
by William Blake

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.

**

dear mr. blake,

thank you for your advice. i have felt your fear, i must say, trembling and cold. but i do have something to ask, though. or an intervention, if you please.

what of love that is being, never told? or love that has been half-told? what of love that has been told and misconstrued?

what of me, now that i have told my love? would there be a departure? would i have to be shrouded in this traveller's garb if i have to take someone with a sigh, silently, invisibly.

in anticipation,
me.

24.3.11

verb: to do

you
make me.

you make me
want.

you make me want
to do

you.

recycling

"you and i, we're collectors. we have more books than we've read, more songs than we listen to."

m said.

**

Some things are inextricable from the memories they carry. A song, a book, a phrase from a something you've read, a pair of jeans, corners of streets, photographs - there are moments within these that tug at moments gone by, sometimes so powerfully, that one smiles or cringes at them whenever they come by.

**

"sometimes i need new music. what do you do when you want something empty of memory, emotion and nostalgia? you need songs you don't associate with anything, no?"
i said.

although, i have a feeling she didn't quite understand it.

18.3.11

aloo

or potatoes, if you please, are simply the most annoying consequence of colonisation.

16.3.11

sometimes, i suddenly stop everything i'm doing in a memory of you. it is your kiss i remember, strong, passionate, gentle. the way your tongue would know my mouth, the way your arms would hold me up. i close my eyes, and turn away, smiling. in this memory, i open my eyes, and watch your hands flick the hair off your face as you laugh. in this moment, i feel my love for you, lingering, like a night's farewell. and then, just as suddenly, your cunning stings me, i remember your malice, and the kiss fades. the moment passes.

9.3.11

chick music

s'pose i never ever saw you
s'pose you never ever called

s'pose i kept on singing love songs
just to break my own fall

-fidelity, regina spektor.

**

(always one foot on the ground.)

4.3.11

all i want

is:

1. to curl up into a blanket
2. a cup of hot, steaming cocoa.
3. preferably with marshmallows.
4. to re-read colour of magic. and mort.

1. to sleep.
2. till i can't sleep anymore.
3. to wake up and loll in bed.
4. preferably with a murakami.

1. to take a train.
2. a long, long journey. to hyderabad, may be.
3. amitav ghosh.
4. who i've always wanted to read on a train.

**

"... in our house books are neither furnishings nor badges of learning; they are debris. Officially we have two libraries, which are defined as places where you store your old books while your new books pile up beside the bed."

-Terry Pratchett.