Life's a smoke and waiting's a dick..

'If only I had the perfect journal to write in..'
I knew what I needed wasn't the perfect journal- it was the perfect moment.
And it came to me sometimes - in between absorbing city life as I walked past crowded streets or in between enjoying a stimulating cup of wicked, undiluted coffee in the wee hours of the morning when no one was around - just me and my tranquil state of the arch being, staring at my disllusioned self in the mirror, while a twig ruffled outside the window and the leaves did their hitch and no, I never noticed because I could never take my eyes off the mirror,couldn't take my eyes off what I've become.

Punch drunk Ascent

Froth glistened on the surface of a rock.The vines were mist laden and sublime.Far below people erractically dug into their freshly blistered salty corn and generously sipped some scintillating coffee.
I am starting to tire of X but then again I have nothing to hold onto. Waterfalls are grand, even grander when the force of the water is unrelenting. I verge upon one rock at a time with bare feet and a flood of caution.The wet moss turns to dangerous slime.
'Don't be foolish..hold my hand.'
I pretend not to hear her.Shaky and wobbly I grab the underside of the rock above me instead- the one I have to climb next but have absolutely no idea how to proceed as yet.
The grandeur and beauty of the waterfall now forgotten I trudge on with the prospect of just getting through the damn thing without cracking a few bones or breaking my camera. (Ps not mine afterall)
'Are you absolutely sure you don't need a hand?'
She was a feet or two below me and her sisterly affection was nauseating.I haven't felt this nauseated since gulping down neat unadulterated vodhka last week.Don't you vouch for adulterated stuff at such times?
Adulterated love,degraded, depreciated stuff.
'I think I got it..' I yelled back.
But I didn't get it ofcourse.I never did.
Even if I did it was vague.

Days of our lives..

"I'm dying," she must have whispered into his shapely and well proportioned ear on a rainy day (when the lower part of the window fogged up and the upper part of it was mist laden and sublime) or on a not so rainy day (when the sun stood on the horizon inches away from sinking into it,weary,after having witnessed rumblings of an entire day beneath him.Yes it was a 'him' because he only felt tired in the evenings and called it a day.)
And then their lives must have progressively shattered there on.I stood among the remanants of what must have been a warm and inviting abode.From where I stood I could hear the distinct hum of the church choir.The dying tree and the dying house sucked the energy out of each other.They formed a strange sombre pair.

If your life was a newspaper what would the headlines be?

Someone died.The weather blew up in your face.Sordid.The party scene next door got uglier.A crash and then glass fell apart..someone stepped on it maybe or worse fell on it.They'd found a stash of dope stuffed away in his pockets.He was going to die anyway.Trains go off tracks.The swine flu masquerade party might be over but people are still dying.Only that now there is no fuss about it.Only one teeny weeny question that splits open every now and then.What if? What if the flu gets me? What if the flu gets my family? My son at school? My man at work? What if's are such diggers.They could ascertain a variety of catastrophic events that run along the longest coast of the sea.Once they get to the coast they start drifting into the sea.Deeper and deeper in between bouts of nauseatingly salty water.
With that said I'd say some people do not realize how lucky they are. I should be generous enough not to name them.I just wish they knew.I sometimes wish I knew too.How lucky I was
- to have a heart beating inside me,to be able to walk and stand my ground, to be whatever I want.And yet these things, these majestic essentials are overshadowed by those vexing details of daily life.I just wish we all knew.
But we don't,do we? And it takes fleeting images of misfortunates sleeping on roadsides or the failing health of someone very old even worse someone younger to bring us one step closer to reality.A reality that is overpriced,taxed and levied by routine- most ordinary and most obvious.

Something I'd read over and over..

Summer in a Small Town

by Linda Gregg

When the men leave me,
they leave me in a beautiful place.
It is always late summer.
When I think of them now,
I think of the place.
And being happy alone afterwards.
This time it's Clinton, New York.
I swim in the public pool
at six when the other people
have gone home.
The sky is gray, the air is hot.
I walk back across the mown lawn
loving the smell and the houses
so completely it leaves my heart empty.

Unverified Junk..

Long time. I am in the running to officially breaking down this september owing to outrageous coffee consumption,terribly unstable nerves and loads of unverfied junk that i managed to ace up my sleeve.

So I repeat slipping issues of health mags under my pile of clothes isn't going to make me adapt to a healthier lifestyle...Are you listening mom?

The wretch called up my mum to tell her I was sleeping all day..wretch wretch wretch..What is the point in staying away from home if your not going to be sleeping all day?

Least to say the wretch cannot dismantle my vitriolic spirits that are up and running high courtesy high caffine content in my system.

Days do not comprise of much.Either they are spent running around the city or doing nothing at all.And when I say nothing at all I mean nothing at all..the highlight of the day being -- dousing a cockroach in harpic..

I could be spotted at a coffee shop pretending to read a book or write OR a restuarant having lunch by myself or complete strangers.Complete strangers come into the picture when the craving for good food at a popular place overlooks the fact that you have absolutely zilch company to share the delight with.I repeat I do not like running errands for people until I am getting paid for it and especially the older lot of them who get on my nerves.Hence I would not be found at my other stay in from 10 to 1 in the mornings.

You could add working for the UN on my schizo wishlist.

This calls for beefing up my mothballed state of affairs.

The old,the living and the dying..

After watching the two feet long reptilian wonder journey all the way from a shelf containing some very aesthetic tableware to the back of a Turner painting I reverted my attention to the incredibly sassy Betty Sharp in between solving some dogsick math problems.
The clock read 5.30 a.m. not one mintue more and not one minute less.

The silence was broken by the infrequent growling of the refrigerator next to which hung a black and white picture of her deceased husband and his bespectacled charm, taken almost a decade ago, encased in an elegant frame, abiding against a backdrop of the newly painted mauve walls. Next to this is another picture- this one comprised of the couple- his philosopher's nose and her haughty features stealing the limelight.

She began another laborious long haul down the stairs. This was a routine affair but sometimes when her health got the worst of her she slept through the highly demanding and painful endeavour. Otherwise commenced a normal day where the speed of a daily task was one tenth of what it could have been or what it should have been. Like for instance making tea required a minimum of 9 minutes and a maximum of 13 or so. If as a child I was ever asked about what I didn't want to be it would certainly be this..along with a lot of other things.

The oversized buff coloured bath robe hides her recent infliction - Herpes spreading along the surface of her right arm almost rendering it useless. But here is why this spitting image of death is the highlight of my flimsy post: her preposterous desire to live all by herself on her own terms as an amiable entity bothersome sometimes could have been deemed as courage only if it wasn't so shaky.

The sheets are clean, there is more than one dish on the table, the fridge doesn't tire out, water pump... check, fake teeth...check,walking stick...uncheck,a downright calculative mindset...check,if you help the old lady you'd be in HIS good books slogan..check,friends at hand...check,socializing to avoid lonliness...check,countless recipies deemed successful after mild experimentation...check,no children to fuss over...check,relatives to fuss over occasionally....check.
What do you need to worry about other than the clock ticking away and a knock at the door?
I greet her with half a smile.
Good morning.
Good morning...says death with a smile.
And so starts another day..the fragility of which I could never comprehend.