OH

And my drunk post about women last night somehow didn't get published. I wonder why. 

Tener duende

"Um, you know at our age and at our level of numbness it's hard to find good literature and appreciate it and get inspired."


Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

--My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
--If it were possible, my boy,
I'd help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
--My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that's possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don't you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
--Your white shirt has grown
thirsy dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees a
round the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.

--Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Romance Sonambulo - Federico Garcia Lorca. 

Happy New Year

Baby, you are the reason cavemen started to chisel on the walls.

And to all those people who stray here from time to time, happy new year.

So yeah, drinks on me.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK I AM GOING TO HELL

All the liquor, money and women aside, my mind has been cluster fucked by this. We are all going to hell.



You who live safe
In your warm houses,
You who find, returning in the evening,
Hot food and friendly faces:
Consider if this is a man
Who works in the mud,
Who does not know peace,
Who fights for a scrap of bread,
Who dies because of a yes or a no.
Consider if this is a woman
Without hair and without name,
With no more strength to remember,
Her eyes empty and her womb cold
Like a frog in winter.
Meditate that this came about.
I commend these words to you.
Carve them in your hearts,
At home, in the street,
Going to bed, rising;
Repeat them to your children.
Or may your house fall apart,
May illness impede you,
May your children turn their faces from you.

Primo Levi.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/If_This_Is_a_Man

Exuviae

I don't know what I am any more, or what I'm doing
Now I'm on fire, now I'm freezing
Every woman makes me change colour,
Every woman makes my heart flutter.
Simply at the name of love, of delight
I am upset, and my heart beats faster
And I find myself talking of love
From a need I can't explain.

The Marriage of Figaro. Beaumarchais. 

Diz no Hank Moody Shit!!

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.


if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.

So you want to be a writer - Charles Bukowski. 

ps: I love Hank Moody. 

Ostensible Observations

So yeah, i got like three massive compliments in my official email today. Which is kind of a big deal for me cause it has been ages to hear a compliment. I had this anti-social fatigued phase going, where i am not seeing anyone and working too much with a stand-in manager whom i truly loathe. Not because he is bad but he is annoying as hell.

Narcissistic little girls we are after all. I am posting the comment which mattered and meant the most to me.
Customer's big shot managers come and go, girls are forever.


I am listening to two songs on repeat at the moment and here is what i think.
Superheavy - Miracle Worker.

• There is Damian Marley in it. He is still very cool. I mean way cooler than anyone i've known or seen. So since he descended from Bob Marley's sperm, so Bob Marley's sperm was way cooler than i've known or seen. Imagine how much cool Bob Marley was. It's like cool within a cool. Inception where are you? 
• Joss Stone. I like her voice but lot of people have called her dumb cow. No wonder. 
• A.R. Rehman, Indian dude for diversity. 
• Dave Stewart. Don't let his drowsy heroin dosed looks fool ya. Check out his solo stuff and one to one collaborations with Mick Jagger. 
• Mick Jagger. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. 
• Mick Jagger's name rhymes with imba swagger. Deal with that. 
• Mick Jagger goes AWWWWWWWHHHH and i have ten mental orgasms, can't imagine what happens to ladies. 
• Mick Jagger still skinny as stick and sexy as hell. 
• "AWWWWWH There is nothing wrong with you that i can't fix---li come running with my bag of tricks" OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG---I am cured, brother, Hallelujah.  
• Mick Jagger's androgynous dance moves are sexier than anything i will ever do. Sigh. 
• Mick Jagger was a sex god in the 60s.If you became a sex god in 60s, then later sex goddish standards will hit such lows that you will be a sex god for eternity. 
• Mick Jagger, how special you are.
• Mick Jagger is my 100 puppies, some friend suggested on facebook earlier that we should make a yard for 100 puppies and whoever is depressed goes and plays with them to feel better. 

Nina Simone - Just in time. I would share the link but youtube live version's have terrible quality download from piratebay.

• Black people made real music. 
• White people made "Repeat forever" option in media players. MP3 and digitally remastered LPs. 
• This talent-less lazy brown boy is very thankful and thinks he knows what heaven would be like. 

Cruel Conflict

"She is new at work. And you know despite of one’s relationship status, one is always looking for some fun at work. But damn, industrial capitalism and related nuisances of sexual discrimination and harassment have left very few stones unturned to make flirting at work almost non-existent. Damn the Man. So we got introduced very formally on her first day. And that was that.

Second day, I was late as usual and rushed in to stop the almost departed elevator. The doors opened and she was in there. Before entering I just froze in my tracks for a split second to see her there in all the morning glory in a dimly-lit-terrible-synch-music-playing elevator. She noted it and was struck by it.

Third day, when there were three passage ways on our floor, she chose the one which was by my side arm, ensuring that I engulf in her sweet perfumes.

Fourth day was the weekend so I didn’t see her.

Sixth day, she was wearing eye make-up. May be that eases eye-contact for women but makes it much difficult for guys. Especially for guys with astute and well-honed observation powers.

Seventh day, she changed her hair. And now since a guy has one chance to note that hair change, I told her in most casual tones, that it looks great.

Eighth day, she casually comes over to share cookies with my team.

Ninth day, we have morning coffee together.

Tenth day, we have lunch together.

Eleventh day, my best friend comes over and warns me about repercussions that involve seeing a girl at work.

Twelfth day, weekend again.

Fourteenth day, I act aloof and ignorant, being all mysterious.

Fifteenth day, she comes over and asks me about my weekend as I don’t look particularly pleased.

Sixteenth day, caught between asking her out and not.

Seventeenth day is tomorrow.

But she has smoothest skin I’ve ever seen in my life and when she laughs she looks so innocent through her up curved eye lashes that it makes me wonder if she ever had an evil thought in her life. 

Here is to tomorrow and things here to unsaid, stories untold, passions unfelt, bodies untouched, novels unabridged, hopes unthreatened and longings unashamed."

PS: 9/11/01 is a personal landmark for yours truly. The first time in his life yours truly exchanged emails with a certain lady which was a very upscale exchange back in the day. It’s been 10 years, a decade and a life time and oh the things we have known since.Will do a feature script on that soon. 

  

Goddess type woman singing about a date.