nimble hands sewed up tattered pieces of skin for a good many hours. the story started as we froze like deer in the headlights of the oncoming vehicle or did the grand plan start before that. did i know anything while i cleaned up my room and made space for puru's stuff in my cupboard. did anyone have an inkling? did someone laugh in the great big blue sky or wherever the halleluiah strumming lute carrying angels park their white fluffy clouds??
frankly speaking for some strange reason i can't seem to relate to people who've come and told me if only you'd waited for some time... i'd rather get on with my life (i mean work, marriage. books, music etc) i mean i just wanna laugh. there are just so many corny jokes and one liners that come into my edema'ed brain, and i say then aloud, but it's no fun laughing at yourself unless you can manage a good racous laugh yourself. otherwise, people feel a little uncomfortable and odd at laughing at a smashed up woman. i mean god!! they're quite polite, aren't they?
i've been meaning to write for a long time now. just haven't had the time, and now i've all the time in the world. at least for a few days. (boy! Am i bored out of my wits?) i've contemplated on smell for now. with a smashed nose nothing much works in the olfactory department. i couldn't smell the three day old dried and caked blood in my fingers. nor the fact that i've not brushed for the last three days. what to say of the fresh smell of shampoo that emanated from my head wash today. i can't smell his breath, i can't smell his skin, i can't smell his love. i can only see everything. and i'm scared to soak it all in cos i may start crying being so overwhelmed, which i can't afford cos i can't blow my bloody broken nose.
spread open the anus of a cadaver. a sudden whiff of smell shall burst and shock you. i call it 'the final fart'. what of the teeming masses all around? what should i call that?
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Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, heavens conspir'd his overthrow; For, falling to a devilish exercise, And glutted now with learning's golden gifts, He surfeits upon cursed necromancy; Nothing so sweet as magic is to him, Which he prefers before his chiefest bliss: And this the man that in his study sits. : Dr. Faustus (Marlowe)
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All information, facts, opinions, interests, anger, invective, ire, sarcasm, intentioned finger pointing are my own views. they belong to no organization or member of any organization!
9 comments:
What??? You got yourself hurt???And I thought you can smash up anything :-)... Lots of hugs! Keep strong and remember to tell your docs I’ll kick their butts if they don’t get you better soon! ..well.. at least your anosmia will spare you from the shock of ‘the final fart' :-) ... and congratulations on your marriage, you’ve broken too many hearts...right guess hun...
Oops! I forgot to tell you that you may call the second one 'the continuous fart'.
hey einstein... which one are you?? i mean who's this?? kinda difficult to place your name with the way you write or speak..
upon my back, to defend my belly;
upon my wit, to defend my wiles;
upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty;
My Mask, to defend my beauty.
(Troilus and Cressida)
wear wear the mask my friend. it shall come to nought soon. nothing but truth holds in stead.
by the way, i still can't figure who among the people i know like t&C by shakespeare. i thought i know only all the lear/macbeth/hamlet types..
With the power of devotion and the faith in his facility... he endeavoured to clutch the moon from the earth... His slaves were the tenacity and the perseverance... still the striver spreads his hands open to show.. nothing... Call it the betrayal of his learning... but in a way the desire was unattainable... In other words... a man dare do all that may become a man, who dares do more is none(macbeth)... and in simple words... you can’t place my name ‘cause you don’t know it... I first talked to you in jan 08 and before that we didn’t know that the other one exists... Hope you are brushing your teeth now.
if i think i'm right, you either the person in the den.. actually there's also a little lair here in the city.
And i was brushing soon push past the pain.
btw, the line from macbeth reminds me of Ouspensky sitting in Gurdeiff's company for three days without eating or drinking before handing over the blank sheet of paper and falling at the Teacher's feet. the last three days he spent trying to write in the peice of paper what his mind knows all on it's own.
thus all learning is useless.
No, you are wrong. I’m too wild and big for a den...and the little lair is good for nothing...Your city is your city.
Do you know what Ouspensky said afterwards???... He said, “I was under the spell of so-called learning. When you spoke to me, for the first time the question stood so glaringly before me that I am overwhelmed with my ignorance! Now I feel I know nothing! I have reveled enough in words and taken them for knowledge and as far as knowing is concerned, my attainment is zero."....You see why you think all learning is useless .... Gurdjieff observed that most people are dead on the inside... He said, “Man lives his life in sleep, and in sleep he dies.” ... guess I was right about being wrong...so long..so long..
have you found the answer yet stranger?
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