Sunday, June 28, 2009

happiness... a warm bun (nom nom chew chew).

Joe Anderson & Salma Hayek
Happiness Is A Warm Gun
Across The Universe: Music From The Motion Picture

Monday, June 22, 2009

three dreams

If you really want to know why I’ve been different lately, it’s because I haven’t been getting enough sleep. Everything seems dull. The skies, once bright and orange have become downcast. My coffee, once bitter and teeming with life now tastes stale. My nights, once peaceful are now riddled with aimless dreams of him.

It was a Tuesday when I first saw him. After a particularly long day at the office, my bed seemed to welcome me with open arms. As I let myself slip into slumber, my thoughts started to wither away. I suddenly found myself inside a theater. It was dark and I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see what was playing. It took me some time to notice that someone was holding my arm. I briefly glanced at my unnamed seatmate. There he was, as sullen as the day I first met him. He smiled- one of those wry half-smiles he was known for- and I felt him subtly squeeze my arm.

He got up to get something to drink. He said he would be back. As the end credits rolled, I sat motionless in my seat.

“The movie has ended”, the usher said.

“I noticed.” I looked around. I couldn’t find him. He was gone.

I woke up the next morning feeling breathless. I got up to get a glass of water and on the way to the kitchen, I kept holding on to my chest. The elders used to think that we left behind little bits of our souls when a photograph was taken. My whole dream played like a moving picture. Perhaps I left bits of my soul in it.

The next evening, he came to me again. We were at the supermarket. It was a scene straight out of The Stepford Wives. We looked like a happy family. A little boy was sitting in the cart with the rolls of tissue and tubes of toothpaste. Mundane suburban living, I recalled. He walked towards the third aisle and told me to meet him at the counter.

“Where’s daddy?” asked the child.

“He’s gone,” I answered. The lights started to flicker. The cart and the child disappeared. From the benign darkness, I called out. “Are you there? Please come back. Please. Are you there?” He wasn’t there. He never was.

The third night, my dreams found me in a nondescript restaurant. Over salads and steak, we started to recount our first few days together. Who could forget the confusion, the hesitation, the bliss that ensued after all the chaos? Our wine glasses were dry. We tried to call the waiter but neither of us could see him. Exasperated, he rose to look for the guy. I was a little wiser. I knew he wasn’t coming back. As the waiter finally arrived to announce the last call for alcohol, I asked for the bill and went home alone. It started to rain but I didn’t use my umbrella. I needed my skin to feel as cold as my heart.

So if I’ve been a little different, please forgive me. My bed has become a prison. You may think I’m crazy but I can’t wait to get home tonight. I can’t wait to close my eyes and dream of him. I can’t wait to go through all the usual feelings- elation, exasperation, expiration. Why? In waking life, he exists in a world apart from mine but in my dreams- even for a brief moment- he is there. He is happy and smiling. He holds my hand. He laughs with me. If he should leave me at the end of the dream, at least I know he will be there tomorrow night. If only in my dreams, I know he is there. And so I wait- a tall glass of water in one hand and my heart in the other.

John Mayer
Dreaming With A Broken Heart

Thursday, June 11, 2009


24 hours in a day. It’s funny how we manage to fit everything in. We spend an average of eight hours sleeping. Another eight at work. Where did the other eight go? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately. Perhaps the hours spent twittering and perusing the lolcat galleries have started taking their respective tolls. I’m still glued to my spot in front of my laptop trying to make sense of these darn hours.

I’m not who I thought I was 24 hours ago. Still I’m singing Spirit take me up in arms with You.

When life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade. Bring out the tequila and some salt. I learned this the hard way. Squeezing lemons is way too tough plus it’s a bitch to your skin. Don’t bother fighting the odds. Just find a way to make it past the really big waves and watch your back because that undertow’s another bitch.

24 reasons to admit that I'm wrong. With all my excuses, still 24 strong.

I take comfort in the fact that one day all of this will make sense. It's all I have left.

I wanna see miracles. See the world change. Wrestle the angels for more than a name. For more than a feeling. For more than a cause. I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You.

24 hours in a day. I had 24 hours today. How did you spend yours?

The Beautiful Letdown

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Over dinner, he calls.
You put on that face that you save for him.
I am as quiet as a mouse
Praying he won’t hear me.

All at once, I am
Your late night with the boys,
Your personal traffic jam,
Your surprise meeting with the boss.

In bed, I hear his key in your door.
You put on that face that you save for him.
I am as quiet as a mouse.
Praying he won’t see me.

I am under your bed
My clothes in a rumpled pile by my feet.
I listen for your footsteps
And his
So that I can weep hot tears in peace.

But not now. Not yet.
For right now, I need to be
As quiet as a mouse.

Photo Credit: Project 405

Iron & Wine
Flightless Bird, American Mouth
The Shepherd's Dog