Chiffonesque

A poem by Charles Bukowski from 'Love is a dog from hell' “there is a loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of a clock. people so tired mutilated either by love or no love. people just are not good to each other one on one. the rich are not good to the rich the poor are not good to the poor. we are afraid. our educational system tells us that we can all be big-ass winners. it hasn't told us about the gutters or the suicides. or the terror of one person aching in one place alone untouched unspoken to watering a plant.” 

Little bells kept me going Those tied to branches of a banyan tree I'd see them shine from the courtyard I'd hear them tinkle while making tea They'd tinkle through every weather Carrying messages of hearts that prayed They'd jangle louder through lengthy storms That wiped out mornings and le ft nights all frayed A storm one night broke the banyan It fell strong and full with trunk ripped right through It was seen in a carpet of dead, wet leaves And cheery bells clinging n singing, "Me and You"

According to my yoga instructor, I should stay away from rice if I want to improve my practice. I have been doing that for most days of the week. (I usually indulge over weekends where I consume a fair amount of rice with nothing more than curd, daal, and thinly sliced potatoes fried with lots of onions, capsicums, and chillies.) So, for the most part, if I am not eating chapattis, I am eating dalia . This, I like. But the thing with dalia is that it is dalia and not rice. Rice I can eat simply with salt, especially if it is cooked really soft and is steaming on the plate. If there is butter and boiled, mashed potato to be added into this delicious heap, the meal is perfect. But I haven't developed this affinity for dalia . I usually cook the broken wheat with a lot of lentils, some veggies, and if possible, a green leafy vegetable. My mum had once made it like fried rice - with capsicum, broccoli, tofu - stir-fried with a bunch of sauces. But since my mum is not here and my c

A day that is so softly sad that I miss having someone read to me at night. Childhood, come, visit me please. 

Shy thunder moving past Eyes that ache and miss it Quiet kindness of the one That met the frog but didn't actually kiss it.

I worked this Saturday. It was a full day's job and by evening, I was exhausted. Another colleague was also working so the two of us decided to salvage the evening by going for a movie. We watched 'Queen'. I loved the movie. It was so sweet and simple. How much friendship and cheer can come into a life if one simply allows.Just allows. Whilst there, I ran into a couple of people from yoga class. We chatted, laughed, and moved away. I didn't seek them out later. On the way back, I dropped my friend home. We had been discussing road trips and I was telling her about the trip to Door County from Chicago. After my friend had gone, I drove home. I fiddled with the radio and then switched it off. I listened to the CD instead - the song, "Kabeera" from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani." As I drove, I had this very vivid sensation of being transparent. Or maybe not as much transparent as permeable. The drive to Wisconsin had been lush and glorious. We had driven

Some days SO good as if they have begun with an open-mouthed kiss! Love this: http://www.womensprizeforfiction.co.uk/2014/baileys-womens-prize-for-fiction-announce-their-2014-longlist

Today, there was a new girl in the yoga class.  She was very beautiful.  Slim, tall, and very flexible. Her skin was luminous. In fact, she looked like the delightful crescent moon I was staring at before she walked in. There were fewer people in the class today so we took it with fewer lights on. This girl just glowed through all those postures.  It was like taking a beam made of the softest water colors and bending it into different shapes. Not once did she grunt or pant. Everything about her was so smooth and mastered. I like beauty.  Makes me want to be a better person.

That this body is too small for you? That this structure is too tight? Much of your motion is just fidgeting to get used to this restriction.  That you want to peel off your clothes, peel off your skin, dismantle your bones, and step out. I think there's a line by Rilke that goes something like this: I want to leave myself behind and walk under the stars. If the stars rather be elsewhere, then the soft unfolding darkness will do. Do you feel like this life is too long, much too long. You can segment each task and spoon out eternity in manageable chunks but even after everything is crossed out the list, many days remain. They stretch out, far and endless, but like running paint on floor, they hedge you into a corner. Do you ever feel that you are big? Much too big and immense? Not in the glorious, magnificent kind of way. Just in the sort of way that you will always be a misfit everywhere because there isn't enough space.  The universe is a lilliput land and all thd galaxies are