how do we open?
I wonder at the capacity
what do we do when we put a liminality inside a eternity?
we ate of the intimate
and seemed on the tender
arcing with the revolution
of many bones and souls.–
how do we open?
I wonder at the capacity
what do we do when we put a liminality inside a eternity?
we ate of the intimate
and seemed on the tender
arcing with the revolution
of many bones and souls.–
my heart has swallowed a large pitcher of sadness
pre-summer days quote in heat
and sigh in zephyrs like commas
in a run on sentence —
building up my bones like a house
or a locomotive; both nano and steam
evaporates through the lines
of osmotic transcendence
quiet was the night
adjusting the windows
as the rains come hot and sleek
like predators hunting for water
and my eyes thirst dryness
like a line smoothed by clay
my mouth antagonises me in silence
but I don’t turn the page —
what is a lost cause? I think trust
or trust blindly? a thrusting motion
reminds you of juvenile dreams and
naive conceptions — love sings over the hills
canopied by clouds and conceived heaven
love sings over the earth
only the desert welcomes the monsoon
if my heart was paper, would it be easier to write the codes?
to relearn myself in small accents like apostrophes and periods?
would it have been easier to write down some commandments
that never altered; set ink as stone and made it roll so it
gathered no heresy of moss? — shanties of sand come climb
and crumble but never swayed the reign of those staunch routines
automaton of apathy; pincushioned by wavy joints of empathy
never fully light or fully darkness: just a fruit with many seeds
like a rose with many thorns. Beauty is a trait that can defy kindness.
Why should I javelin throw my self when others watch the macabre
in a seated box in the opera of their own lives?
hearing something like rain fall down like it has pockets to fill
feeling partly tired and partly smarting from a wound
there is no chime that elopes with the blow to the heart
knowing the quiet I trace it like a scar,
a skin that should be immaculate
I sigh, whimper and whisper
the wall is broken; pain can’t keep me down.—
I think for the past few days I have been feeling a certain alienation from people. People are not logical. This is something I have learned both the easy way and the hard way. But, this is not a treatise glorifying emotions either. Emotions can be pretty messy and difficult to express so we use shorthands of violence, anger even lust and betrayal to compensate our lack of syntax and our lack of right verbs and nouns to talk about these things. It does not have to be English. It happens in every language. It happens pretty much in mainstream cultures. We are not really taught to cultivate language. We are taught to cultivate solutions and information. The latter is not a bad skill. It is also needed. However, emotion and logic going hand to hand makes more sense.
People can be brutally honest and hurt someone and that is a valid reason to critique emotions. You know why? Because unless someone is being a douchebag I don’t think we have enough of their life picture to be over exceedingly mean to them. Especially, if they are our friends and we posit some value onto them. Friends can demand things — it’s normal and it shouldn’t exceed a limit either. There are basics, we have our own etiquettes. I think what we don’t understand is that even when we are coldly logical it is a painful surgical procedure without anesthesia. We can logically tell people their shortcomings, or why we don’t like them but have no clue what their positionality is. Most of the time when we dislike people we are also subconsciously, but logically, trying to overcompensate for some lack in ourselves. We feel jealousy that they get it, or, anger that they not getting it reflects our own propensity for not getting it. Our lacking.
Going back to language and skills of deduction, the reason I skirted on emotions and logic is that people aren’t 2+2=4 nor are they (a+b)²= a²+2ab+b² nor are they (a+b)³=a³+3a²b+3ab²+b³ they can all of this and none of this on the same line. It is hard to accept that but it’s true. You can give your level best to people to have them turn on you at any given moment. I noticed why. People are either ungrateful, scared, jealous or insecure. And, when I say people I am not pushing me away from that. I am not putting myself on a pedestal because I am a person as well. I am sure that I also come across as brash, small minded and stupid at times. However, I think over the years, I have tried to be patient with people. The sad thing is, people are not necessarily patient with me. When there is a one sided dialogue on patience: meaning you are being patient and the other person is being mean or you are showing them they behaved badly and instead of being responsible they tell you what you said meant nothing and sums up nothing, it becomes pretty frustrating.
A good way of showing these sides of frustration is social media. People nowadays also abuse social media to make a point that they are disappointed or angry with you. When they unfriend or block you, it does become problematic. There is no way to contact them or tell them you are sorry. Usually, it also makes you feel like a creepy stranger when you were not. Even at times it makes you feel as though they are treating you as they would an abuser. It becomes really sad because when you haven’t been toxic with them or vitriolic with them it becomes an issue. I come also from times when stuff like this was hard to do because basically when you before had fights with friends you could be absent from each others’ lives for a while and then make it or break it with perspective. Nowadays, I think that also goes out the window. People get mad at you and make a statement about it which is hard to overlook and may add fuel to fire and make a hot mess.
The thing is we are not math problems or fragments of syntax or pixels on a screen or even a sum of hormones alone — we are people. We need to work on ourselves and others constantly and consistently. Yes, there can be fluxes but we are meant to fill them with other things. It is imperative we can be a bit more compassionate, open, loving and empathetic with people who deserve it. We gotten down our boundaries, how to be alert for creepy people, how to zone out in places we don’t need to be and we also got down how to be aggressive when required. However, we haven’t gotten down the other end. We need to master or even try to balance out both.
There is a reason I speak of balance in particular. We cannot always unleash our rage and jealousies on our friends who are not intending to hurt us or trying to make us feel low. This is one thing I tried to do. Stress and helplessly in today’s societies comes through work but also through social interactions. We are sometimes forced to be with people we don’t wanna be. We can’t always make a situation feel good even if we try. I get that, personally, I get that so much and I gotten angry and sometimes tell my Mom in a bit of a loud voice how tired I was of it all. Work can be brutal, horrible and also ungrateful. You can give your soul to a career, hours of excruciating brain and brawn power and not get a promotion or even have your pay reduced or even discourteously fired. But, I don’t think putting that on your real friends will actually help you in the long run. Rather, I think it would hurt you.
I talk today about personal experiences. I think I have faced a lot in the last two years that has made me pretty cynical about friendships. I realised the more older you grow up people look at friendship like a hierarchy or something that is just there. People have tried to use me and take me for granted. I don’t think I have ever made a person feel so low that they questioned their self-worth. However, people do this all the time. After a while, it becomes like as though they are just angry at who I am and how I behave. Maybe, they hadn’t expected me to be successful or even able to write these things coherently in a blog. The fact that I surpassed their assumptions of me may make them feel pretty angry and unhappy. Perhaps, they liked me being in the gutter, or being miserable or even being hapless because that gave their lives “more meaning”? When you think about it people can think like that. They usually are taught life is a competition of living good, making successes and playing hard some game of attraction. When people fail in those areas it makes others overwhelmingly happy because then when they look at the mirror they can Other you. They can tell themselves they are not you.
I just don’t really ascribe to this way of thinking. Maybe, that’s why people don’t always value me and do not want to be my friend to begin with—
there is a precipice of who I am
and the narrative turns like the yellowing
of yellow pages; the archaic science
of me; proverbial and primordial in the wake
what can I say I am beastial, having to act polite
it is in my nature to be typhoon and tycoon
but I butter my obscenities so they can melt in your mouth
as I spoon feed you innocence know that my spoon was
an iron coded telos that knew what it felt
to have a poverty of being even if there was
the necessities to live; yet there was a refrain of self
a piano polished and not played is going to be eaten by insects
and not the kind that grow wings and molt off carnage
these blemishes are the still growing patterns
even if my seeds are blue and black
know that I have the chroma heart of a karma exodus
torching my veins and entering my alphabet
like the Aleph of the soul paintbrushed by
the slowness and sureness of the time spent
walking to this precipice
of who I am.—
Sometimes there are a few instances you get pretty annoyed and livid. When you meet dehumanising pieces of shit (I had to curse).
Below is a link Aussa Lorens about working with her boss. It is absolutely horrendous experience. I mean I was shocked he had a gall to say all of these things to his employee.
Then again one of my ex-bosses was a misogynist too. Not to mention not many men could also work with him because he had such a discourtesy for human decency and personal dignity. One of his longest employees is a man but that’s because he “acts dumb” in front of him to get by. No one can stay with him for long as he starts attacking your shortcomings like a shredder with paper.
That person also gave penalties to people for questioning him (maybe it was one time but it wasn’t right). One of his most talented employees was a woman and she had fights with him due to his pretty irrational and demeaning behaviour. There was once an incident where the young woman was so irate with him she said, “Perhaps, you should just give this article your name as you changed so much of it.” And he gave her a cold, stink eye and replied: “For the next couple of issues your name won’t be added to to your articles.” As in ity would just label “Staff Correspondent” or, something. That is the epitome of rudeness.
I digress. Going back to Aussa it seems her boss has hired her to just complain about women to her.
Boss: “You always do this. No matter what I say you’re going to come back and say it’s what I wanted or what I didn’t want.”
Me: “Wait. Are we talking about the same thing? It’s me, Aussa, your employee. Not the girl who dumped you when you were a freshman in college.”
Boss: “I know how women work. You’re all like this and you don’t even know. I’m very good at reading people, you would think it was funny if you could see how similar you all are.”
Me: *decides to just look at iPhone so he will stop talking*
I mean then wouldn’t that by correlation make all men alike as well?
Well, it continues to get worse:
“Watch how the waitress doesn’t even look up when the door opens. But all the men in here pay attention. It’s so funny to me how oblivious women can be. I guess it’s all evolutionary though— men are the ones who had to protect everyone. Women just needed to be a pretty thing to take back to your cave.”
It’s called waitressing. It’s a fucking job. She is not gonna look up all the time as she is fucking doing work like getting your fucking order. Many men workers in these kinds of services I have seen are impersonal fuck. It’s like if they get a better job their manners go with it at times. You know who are more helpful than women in these kinds of jobs? If you go to Morrisons in the UK, perhaps not all branches, or even Boots, you will see the male workers there will take your empty cups for you and stuff and not act holier than thou like some of the female employees I have met. They also don’t like you are POC but the men don’t care. Yeah, it’s not evolutionary. It’s how you are raised. Actually, one of my friends, who is male, said that men were considered more expendable at times as women bore children and took care of well the next generation (or, such is implied). Women also protected. Just because protection styles are different doesn’t mean they each had lesser value you horrible human being.
My Boss:“Well it’s a lot harder for us guys. Women just want to be provided for. I’ve read a lot of books about it. Women need security. But for us, we need someone who is fun to be around but then she has to be attractive or else we can’t help it if our eyes wander. Sometimes a girl is really cool but you just know that you’re going to end up sleeping with someone who’s better looking. But it’s in our biology.”
Me:*looks at iPhone so he will stop talking*
My Boss:“I know you don’t like to hear this, but I’m just being rational. You women always take things personally because you’re emotional, but I’ve read a lot of books about this topic.”
Let me get this straight. You compare all women to be like well similar or same and then accuse Aussa for taking things personally when you started it. I have seen men lie to people and date (seen women do that too). Men considered less qualified than me in the so-called social strata get women from all walks of life be interested in them. You know who had trouble dating? Me. But you don’t see me blaming all men all the time to my employers or employees or even my friends. I mean many people don’t like me. They think either I am too childish, too flawed or not beautiful or matured enough. I mean if what this jerk said is true I should have had over million + dates like every other day even with his logic of disloyalty as I am said I am fun and funny. So, yeah even before migrating to another person a person should have a fling with me right? So, how come that doesn’t happen? It doesn’t happen because not all men and women are like a disgusting wreck like you, you stupid boss of misogyny and misandry.
Finally, if Aussa, a woman, is so fucking incompetent and it’s in her DNA why did you hire her? Why did you spend all this money on her as her employer? Why did she stay despite you being a jerk till now and try to help you? Why is it that she is the one you decided to complain about all women to? Are you scared saying this to someone of equal standing in the workforce? Are you afraid to say these things to a woman you wanna date?
Doesn’t that make you incompetent as fuck to hire her then?
Shut your mouth you mollycoddled idiot. You just wanted a nanny not an employee.
it is strange what you may feel; you are intimate with the non-intimate passive-aggression,
I guess this is how bullied will always feel like — that you feel for something that may not
matter in the long run; you feel abused because it is strange…how people hate, how people
can learn to hate…it makes you think…should hate be a form of ambition for them?
you are not alone in the pub. Yet you are one of the few who don’t drink, that is actually not
an outsider thing to do, remember that, you could be designated walker and driver for all that
is mentioned and shared. You have to adhere to what you believe and your beliefs, religious or secular, they matter. Seeing people get drunk with talk is sweet wine for the one who is warmed
by interaction…yet, a small voice says, are you the odd one out? Not for drinking, not for skins,
it’s just you with your eccentric way of saying things — even if your accent is as perfect. Maybe,
it’s just you…have fun…your small confidences light others’ too as Williamson once said. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful, as she said, powerful more than we can measure and sometimes our light, our power, threatens others, who have only lived with their inadequacies, not their light, they fear
to be liberated for that would be the responsible thing to do than sulking in one’s own shame and fears. You don’t have to be responsible for them either, don’t fall into the trap that you need to be loved by everyone…what should you gain from love from people who may not know love? If they willing to learn, teach, but it is also mostly self-taught, so you cannot patronise either. One of those pretty sacred things, nothing profane or impure nor pure in being superiority complex can really reach it…hang around the sun, the moon, the clouds, the stars and any meteors and odd curvatures of light…you will reach places…
and the places you reached, will not have people who hurt you
and the places you reached, will not chart all the editions of yourself you did not want
and the places you reached, will polish you with all the organic you needed sans plastics
you will have yourself in footnotes and bibliographies of nostalgia and you know what
it’s perfectly sane to carry on your past, but it is insane to let it rupture you completely.
You should rupture to regenerate not to lose yourself and feel lost…what can you feel with
putting yourself feeling lost? Is it always the feeling you need? Your destination may be unambiguous
but need not be undefined as in the now-present, feeling a bit sure but having immediate purpose is a good destination for now.
if you feel you have lost enough, then you have, you won’t lose more
the universe does not keep random quotas of punishing you nor does it keep
an incensed brow to spit on your happiness, your sadness may be meant to be fuel for later happinesses or awarenesses, your happinesses may lead to some sadnesses too, however,
not all the time. Your emotions have too much meaning for a simple x and y graph with the vectors all
aligned — you can be good at the things needed to be good at if you try as talent is a cultivated institution as well, not to feel all is haplessly cornered and squared into genetics. Even if you suffer from a condition know that the condition can be transmuted and put into what you are learning or wanting to learn — it is perfect way to be an original without feeling the need to try too hard. Hard enough and soft enough.—
I rambled on and may keep on rambling on. For rambling on sometimes is needed. We are too immured at times to the feelings of non-confessions, non-pathologies, isolated simplicities of being a “normal product” — even if normal may just be a few gestures, a few vowels, not all, to the consonant to each person’s abecedarian inclinations and formations.
We must remember we are uniquely shaped even by the same experiences.—
Today I wanted to shake hands with a girl in a lecture. She seems uncomfortable and uninterested; she had bright red hair, coloured as a cherry. She spoke on Jeanette Winterson. On gender. And I didn’t impress her. I was just there. I was just an odd person. The guy who sat next to me just walked away not caring of me. And my flatmates don’t seem to think I am great either. I feel like the fool.
Well, today I talked to the cherry redhead. She seemed to reciprocate my conversation. My flatmates are becoming responsive too. I guess I needed time. I am not saying that I blew them away or impressed them. But one of them thought it was okay to feed me a raspberry with her own hand in my mouth. The gesture was so caring and thoughtful. It brings tears. Right now. Another shared her dinner with me. You know I am just really happy because it is really pleasing to have have that really.
I guess I was really interested in Cherry (I will call the redheaded girl that). Cherry seems to be really thin. Like she has no weight. Compared to me who packs extra pounds. Cherry has immaculate white skin. She wore a jacket today, a black blouse which has t-shirt sleeves and is not willowy but cut midriff, I saw the accentuation of her bones and her tiny waist. Her long legs and hip to half-knee length green skirt skirted around my head as brilliant aesthetics. The cold did not bother her waifish frame. My fats are stored but tickled by the breeze. Her resistance and buoyancy to the cold made me so impressed. Cherry has a sweet tone too. She seems shy but attentive. The problem is I guess we are all shy. I wanna talk to Cherry more as her research is on gender and all about the fluidities and fixities of gendered spaces, or so she talks on. Which is impressive. I wanna know more people on campus.
The funny thing is that the guy who seems aloof of me still seemed aloof of me today. Like it is his intention to avoid me and I decided that okay if that is what he wants sure. I mean, today he came into the foyer and acted like he didn’t know me, wouldn’t meet my eyes, and then asked where I liked to which I casually replied. I do not appreciate behaviour like this. I do not know is it something I did or said. Or, if he is also being shy but right now I cannot process this. I have no time and I have ample work that needs doing.
I know I am not special. I know I may lack a lot of basic skills. Also, compared to others I am not that intelligent. However, I am human. And I deserve basic human empathy and kindness. And so does everyone.
I didn’t know that studying abroad would be a lonely experience. I am just into the experience so I am not sure how the entire experience will be; yet. And I notice people have more boundaries than me. There are a lot of cool White and Black people – people of Asiatic origins and such and I desire, hunger to talk to them. Talking and intimacy has always been an integral part of me. My being cannot resist it. It gravitates towards it as its gravitas. People are just good at hiding or at bearing shyness. I cannot. I do not know silences that stretch due to stranger strangeness; due to anonymity. For me, I feel everyone is an adventure waiting to be explored; a university of individualism wishing to be learned and interacted with. Human to be humanly and humanely encountered and understood. But I know many people will seldom look at others this way. In a sea of bodies I am just well, just another body. Not even an attractive one. I am new. My freshness stinks like cleaning soap, disinfectant, like some form of ripeness that has ripened with the irresistible tug of the green. The men and women here are beautiful and presentable. They look healthy, fit, accustomed to walking. They have developed really clean and well attired aesthetics. I saw a woman from East Asia or East Asian origin with painted full lips – colour of poppies and blood crushed into the metaphor of richness and life. I envied here. I am plump. My skin breaks. I am not a beauty. My hair is the wires of a mess, cables of neural electricity refusing to find sockets or comfortable patterns. The climate here is colder. More foreign. My skin has broken with it. I am a noob. The gamer term encapsulates me and my personhood perfectly. I am a noob and it reeks off me like dying fish on some forgotten sands. I have no sense of direction. Today, I was a bit in shock at looking at an official registration form that asked for my sexual orientation. It was a well definable space; a well defined definition to a sexuality. That hasn’t happened before. It was beautiful. But also a bit difficult to process. Then I giggled like a teen. I am in my 20’s. I am older than most people in my dorm or my class. But compared to them I am stupid. I am a social invalid. I am always at awe at how beautifully people do day to day things. I can’t do anything like that. Not yet anyway.
I was spoiled. Sheltered unreasonably. But where I am from many middle class or upper middle class people are like this; so are high class people. We don’t count money fast. We don’t know how to cook. We don’t know how to clean a bathroom. It just is. It just was. Imagine me. A sheltered weird creature among people who already know what they want from life. What they need in life. How to carve out their individuality. How to carve soul and identity into both paper and flesh. You may be disgusted by it. Rightfully so. I apologise for being so incapable. So immature. Yet, it was so fostered into me. So ingrained. I knew it was problematic but lacked the means to obliterate it. I do not know what sort of creature I am. I am not aware how to live. I am lesser than a baby. I am like Kyle XY without the brains. I am just me. A stupid. But I love the city. I love the openness. I love the liberalness. Love the scope of magnitude of chaos and harmony. Buildings here astound me. I am from such a backward land. I am not really even acquainted with online ordering. I have had so many privations. They are not so private or public. They just existed. I walk so much now. I love it. I wish I could share the walking with a beau. I wish I was beautiful enough both inwardly and outwardly; more strong enough, more efficient enough to be a proper human being. But I am not. And I am sad I was made into this half-formed thing. This failure. This tragedy. This inconsolable invalid. I wish I could love more freely. Be decent enough to love.
I am like a carnival attraction. I am so carnivalesque. Maybe I look odd to others. Today I wanted to shake hands with a girl in a lecture. She seems uncomfortable and uninterested; she had bright red hair, coloured as a cherry. She spoke on Jeanette Winterson. On gender. And I didn’t impress her. I was just there. I was just an odd person. The guy who sat next to me just walked away not caring of me. And my flatmates don’t seem to think I am great either. I feel like the fool. The jester everyone encounters but is so scenic that no one would really pay attention to know. I feel so inadequate. In brains. Beauty. Aesthetics. Brains…I just feel kinda lost.
I don’t know if I am good. Or even decent. I just wish that the “me” I am can change, can evolve, can adapt and become better for myself. Also, for others. I just feel lost and the wideness of this urban wilderness both scares me and tantalises me. I wanna be found and rescued by myself. I wanna meet my spirit, my animal, my spirit-animal. I just want to be more than what I am now
I have forgotten how to write; I borrow from words of favourite authors or poets, online, offline, in print — I stalk, in a friendly way, the vocabulary emitted by friends in the ozone as my side of the world looks at needing patches of effusions on that crystalline-dark matter of a magically scientific field that puts us under some other feelings like the six degrees of separation; I lust after knowledge, under both the labels of the arcane and the modern: a suddenness makes me me feel unhappy, a preparation makes me unhappy.
I have forgotten how to write. So I look at wordpress pages, tumblr posts and reblogs and quotes to feed this appetite in me whose parenthesis seems to be only craving but non-sustainable; my eco-green planning turning to urbane shanty — I look for verdian pots in fanfiction oeuvres and cul-de-sacs of myself and others. I read old work of others, and new, revisit old haunts and seem to find new. I write fanfiction myself because a novel is not for me now though a fanfiction with my own ideas is writing especially if the story of the original is filled with ambiguity (fanfiction on all genres, shows, formats is writing even if it’s 50 shades of practice).
I have forgotten how to write. That is poem seems so bad. I am sorry if I am not witty. But I have never truly boasted intelligence unless it be boasted for me. And all the mathematicians and physics majors and physicians and doctors and lawyers and engineers whose crafts matter more than mine I wonder how in that quantum googolplex do my profession really counts? To the modern mind I may be dumb and pretty obsolete like a cartographer sailing seas using the stars when there are radio shacks and lighthouses on a whimsy. Yet I cannot be a cartographer for the moon, for that would probably be a cartographer for billetdeaux.
I have forgotten how to write. Yet I imagine faces of the moon as one large phasic typewriter. And somewhere along Mars neophyte water sprites may be becoming molecules for new, imaginary oceans.▬
Perhaps, I have forgotten how to write…▬
THERE IS WATER IN MARS OMG 😀
Researchers say discovery of stains from summertime flows down cliffs and crater walls increases chance of finding life on red planet