On writing to someone

If this story is written only for myself, then so be it. But it doesn’t feel that way. I feel you out there, reader. This is the only kind of intimacy I’m comfortable with. Just the two of us, here in the dark. (Middlesex, Jeffrey Eugenides, p319)

What’s there then, if we’re not writing for our readers. Writing for s/he who will understand in time to come. Writing to leave our posterity in time, all those words capturing the essence of us so that we won’t be merely dust. Writing to someone so that we can keep on writing, keep on talking and remain self-absorbed and we don’t even need to be bothered with your thoughts, silent reader, because we cannot hear them. Some good authors probably can anticipate what you might ask, what you might question. Why is there a loophole here? But even better authors won’t really give a care. They’re self-absorbed and nasty. But they also make one of the best reads in the world.

They have something to say and if you won’t listen, they’ll find somewhere else who will. It better be a person who likes the dark though. Because only in the dark do stories get told.

That’s authorial power.

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Another Ghost

Some days there are words lingering at the cusp of your lips, those cadaverous things, dying to be evocated, to be summoned into life.

You speak and cheat death for a second, those words springing to life.

And if you can’t, let others speak for you.

Especially if it’s something wonderful.

I share with you this:

Night slips
into black silk,
and breathing stills.
Lilac floats
on swollen air.

I wait
in full blossom,
my feet warm
in the spreading moss.

A cricket calls, lonely,
from another valley,
in another hollow.
Another shadow,

another pause.

by Catnapping

in the shadow of the shelf

I loathe to open those boxes of chocolates, boxes of which their contents are unknown to me.

Yes my dear, I know they’re chocolates but what kind, do you know? At what price shall I have to pay to open a box and find out that they’re not the ones I really like. Actually those I could probably tolerate. Those that I cannot are boxes of chocolates with weird, posh-sounding names that cost a bomb. Or those with weird flavours. Like coconut. Or wasabi. Why can’t they just leave chocolates alone? Why can’t they just give chocolates simple names? We’re already living in a complicated world where chocolates are no longer fit for kids because they come in all sorts of shapes, sizes and flavours. I’ve seen alcoholic chocolates, and penis-shaped chocolates for hen nights (and probably some other nights…though I’m not sure what they sell on bachelor nights). So most of the time, I like to leave those boxes of chocolates on the shelf.

And if I really tiptoe, I can reach the highest shelf. If if I exert enough effort and just shove them right at the back where those cobwebs and dust bunnies gather, those shadows, I think I’ll be able to forget about opening them.

Moments

A short prayer for all the lives out there, those that managed to survive and those that didn’t.

Hold onto the miracles, hold them hard lest you let the world grind it away

And let it slip in the timestream all too easy.

In Alienation of Labour

Perhaps it is because the fruits of our labours, once ripened, falls and falls such that they catch the slightest gust of wind, particulates of air that we, humans once, become machinery and only oiled by money-polies, we thrash in the pods of our existence, wanting to go faster and faster, wanting to do more and more, such that our skins are slowly worn away and our flesh stripped with a slow decadence, and we forget why we’re doing what we’re doing. And Marx rolls in his grave.

macaroni soup let’s all be

Don’t feel like going out it’s raining my favourite weather my

No songs playing on the iTunes, there’s sound but no song, no favourite songs no

Crossroads antinomies Antinomy Medea and the Muses Greek myths stand in front of me we should all be macaroni all back to a primordial human soup alphabet soup of macaroni where we just arrange our thoughts using the alphabets available how many sentences you can make depend on how many letters there are in the macaroni stuff you buy from supermarkets your language is limited by its industrial production maybe you want to choose another brand they might have more letters available for communication well if you want to speak more have more vocabulary at your disposal you just have to pay pay the pretty lady at the cashier or do you want to queue up at the counter with the cute girl instead who might be just underaged and you’ll have to pay pay pay I’ll rather go on a trip, an out of the world trip far away dar dar away that’s what out of the world means words no longer seem to be what they are when out of the world still means I’m here anyway just that the mind is in a different place does this mean I’m out of the world all the time because my mind is not here oh golly I’m out of the world again Ma there should be some sort of space customs right to stamp your passport or not stamp it so they can catch you when you return maybe charge you for being an illegal immigrant an alien because you don’t have that stamp the number they want maybe they should dial 6337 I can’t remember the number I just dialed a few hours ago for McDonald’s that happy food what’s it called big breakfast don’t really seem big to me again I have to order something else to keep myself full full and happy should I pray maybe if I have a God I’ll feel better like other people who pray pray to something in the skies to keep their minds there there in the air out of this world again bypass those space customs don’t let them give you the stamp hahahaha lol what are all of these that I keep seeing ding ding my chat window opens and every now and then there’s a lol somewhere like a commercial break they come lol lolololol…sometimes xoxoxox I should start charging people for every lol use and tell them hey lol’s copyrighted lol and be a lolmillionaire then i can keep my family’s minds in there there in the air out of this world as well dar dar away.

Tropical fruits

Lychees, longans and rambutans

the last is the least

because the seed of skin sticks

like a scab reopened

the taste of iron in your mouth

cracks your weary lips, too heavy for it