Hello!

As I wrote yesterday, I decidd to interrupt here the blog. This is not a defiance, but a change in my metod.

So, this is a goodbye!

Aurora

My weeks have been flying by lately. My Mondays fly by super fast, since I am catching up from the weekend and setting up the work week. Tuesdays are dreadful. My position at my company is Accounts Payable. I basically pay all the bills and cut all the company’s checks. When I’m not paying bills, I’m entering in hundreds of invoices a week for me to pay later. (We use a paleolithic accounting computer system that is 20 years old. My computer at work operates on Windows 98. Seriously.) Tuesday are especially painful. I’ve already rushed all day Monday to catch up and I am bored as hell come Tuesday. I’m the kind of person that always has to be busy at work. I’ll find something to do if my duties are done. I can’t stand twiddling my thumbs and I don’t like my boss to see me bored. I find that on these super-slow days I dream about Friday. I feel like the week will never start moving again and then BAM… here comes Wednesday and before I know it the week is over.

On weeknights I am so burnt out from the day I take it super easy and usually rest while doing school work. I don’t go out on weeknights and try to get to bed by 10, sometimes I’m asleep by 9. I try to go out on weekends, but after a 40 hour week I tend to be very sore and/or tired. On Saturdays I overdose on the lattes to keep me moving. I like to get out on Saturdays to walk around Piedmont or College and window shop. Sometimes, I like lying in bed all day, but that’s only if I’m in a lot of pain. I can function regularly while in a high degree of pain, I’m used to it and the pain seems to be put on the back burner. I can feel my abdomen freaking out just about every second of the day. I can feel it now. No cause for alarm, it’s just how it is. I kinda think of it like a tattoo. The first minute is rough and then it becomes just annoying. It’s tolerable so you just lay there, waiting for it to be done. Occasionally I have to stop what I’m doing completely and have a seat or take a rest.

This Saturday night is packed with plans. I have to go to a going away party for an hour, then meet the ladies for our bi-weekly Alameda Ladies Drinking Club. This group is super fun and the other members of the group are great. We only meet for about an hour for cocktails (I usually have a Diet Coke) and then are on our merry way. Later that night I will be attending a rock star themed party, which I am super excited for. I haven’t made my costume but will end up throwing one together last-minute, as always. I have a wig. I will post photos. unfortunately, I can’t exactly let loose, being a perma-gimp and all. Nnekay (who is one of my oldest, dearest friends since Kindergarden) is throwing the aforementioned rock star party and lives across the street (literally). I can have a beer or two and walk home Saturday night.

This weekend, when I’m not dressed as multi-talented rock star, I’ll be finishing up my research paper on “Reproductive Behaviors of Gorillas”. They’re not as interesting as I thought they’d be. They have boring sex lives and I’ve found my research to be bland. I should have chosen another non-human primate, but oh well. Time to crank out 1,000 more words and be done with it.

I was thinking about all the nicknames Jory and I have given Bucko and I was cracking up this morning while emailing them to my sister Megan (aka Beast, Mega Beast and Pegan). Here are a few as I bid you adieu: Buckins. Buck Nasty. Buck skin. Buster. Buddy. Buckorama. Chappy. Buckoloatapus. Muffin. Buckmaster Flash. Bucko Baggins. Buck Rogers.

Current constant listen: Band of Horses, Everything All the Time

This album is amazing. Dig it.

Siccome da oggi sul lavoro mi sento così:

stasera preparo la valigia e domani volo qui:

e, se mi va, non torno più!

Il faut oublier

Tout peut s’oublier

Qui s’enfuit déjà

Oublier le temps

Des malentendus

Et le temps perdu

To who spat a torrent yet ceased thereafter: Adieu, Bonjour – Good life.

 Je lui ai soufflé un adieu si bas, qu’il ne l’a pas entendu.

Mais en lisant ces quelques lignes, il saura…

 On ne se retrouvera plus.

__________

Photo : A. pour Agatha (Merci de m’avoir aidée à me retrouver, il ne manque plus aucune pièce au puzzle. Baisers légers et chastes)

What’s death anyway?

Is that happens when a person is no more?

Is that we stop thinking about a person

So natural it is

So final it seems

Everyone knows… but tries to escape

The thought of death

For some it’s painful

For many it’s over before they knew

Organs of life…. melting slowly

So many breaths in to one

Changes whole environment

In to unknown territory

People coming and going

Smell of anti-septic still in nostrils

Waking us up to harsh reality

Cold death

Leaving numb minds

How hard it is to wait for?

Certain death in an uncertain time

Every time it comes

We think it’s untimely

Some more time please..

We ask our almighty

Some time to live, love

To give everything

Positive and negative

Remembering a book titled

“who will cry when you die??”

Is it vital for dying person?

He is busy in business of dying

Getting delayed by modernity’s of life

Jumble of words… confusing

All hatred melting into one

Prayful determination….to my thee!!

Liberation of soul…

Into this eternal universe

Let anyone and everyone die

With the same bliss as they enter

With smile.. bidding adieu to loved

Let them have a graceful exit

As graceful as their entering the show

Oh! My friend….Are you alive?

‘Coz we are thinking about you!

Are you dead?

‘Coz we can’t see you anymore

Ashes to ashes…. Dust to dust!!!

saipadma@gmail.com

on 16/10/2009 @ 6.16 PM

Walkie Talkie: What took you so long?

El Idioto: I actually came few hours early. Even dropped of earlier than plan to meet you.

Bye Bye

Walkie Talkie: Better.

El Idioto: [Simles]

Walkie Talkie: You coming to drop me off, right?

El Idioto: yes. But wont be able to talk much thanks to your aunt!

Walkie Talkie: Well, I know. [imitates her , we both laughed a bit] So what now?

El Idioto: A walk, a lil snack and may be something good to drink.

Walkie Talkie: [ignoring my cliche] I read your blog.

[El Idioto gives surprised look]

Walkie Talkie: About you trying to stay away from me.

El Idioto: So…

Walkie Talkie: It was cute of you. [A pause] You are really a sweet heart but you did not need to do that

El Idioto: Huh?

Walkie Talkie: I’m a adult. I know my limits. I knew this was a temporary fling.

El Idioto: you did?

Walkie Talkie: Yes, I did and in a way, you’re perfect for me too. Those small cute moments were nice. But

El Idioto: I hate buts… except yours

Walkie Talkie: [Smiles , blushes a lil but continues on] Butt, we have separate paths to walk on. We’d be canceling each others future’s. You don’t want that and neither do I.

El Idioto: Still…

Walkie Talkie: Will you just shut up and kiss me for once.

El Idioto: [in a very bad cowbody-cum-desi accent] Always a pleasure ma’am

She’s gone now, away with the wind

Left me with memories of a lifetime

As I relish them till my eyes refuse to open

The urge to be with her arises

Only to be saddened by the truth that say

“she’s gone now, with every second that passes away.”

LOS ANGELES - (i.) Late afternoon, the children play: cold palms tucked into sleeves break their hold as they swipe the handball, reposition, and brace the ball again.  Standing by to deter another knee-scraping scuffle, I gaze by their laces where leaves fallen from an imported perennial nearby dance, dance, dance and twirl in a favonian funnel.  Involuntarily, I wrap my hands around my shoulders and perch on the dry asphalt hoping to absorb the last vestiges of summer.

(ii.) Jinah Kim, 23/single, singer-songwriter and owner of Bricks&Scones, whispered about the ‘09 Otoño blend that she plans to sell at the soon-to-be-open shop. Nodding off and thinking English, I blanked for a second. Otoño? Oh, right. Naturally, a poem by Rilke and an excerpt from mental folder “R” for Rimbaud arrived by association:

HERBSTTAG

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gieb ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.

[et]

ADIEU

L’automne déjà ! — Mais pourquoi regretter un éternel soleil, si nous sommes engagés à la découverte de la clarté divine, — loin des gens qui meurent sur les saisons. [...]

Rilke’s last stanza of “Herbsttag” (by my own sketchy translation) poignantly reads:

He who has no house now, will build no longer.
He who is alone now, will remain alone,
will waken, read, write long letters,
and will in avenues back and forth
wander restlessly, as the leaves blow adrift.

Sigh. Well, before we fall any further, let’s drop a sidestep and kick back to a summer track by Nujabes, “Aruarian Dance.” (Thank Taylor Furlong for the suggestion.)

El. Cineva care nu e de faţă şi la plural. Cineva la care. Cu care. Cineva ceva? Cineva de care. Cineva piele. Cineva miros. Cineva voce. O voce care nu spune nimic, care pipăie. Are degete. Are corp. Un corp care merge pe vîrfuri şi se învîrte în cerc. Cercul are şaptezeci de chemări, optezeci, o sută de apeluri ratate. Răspunsul n-a venit decît la capătul nopţii. Greu. Oblic, corupt, pervers. Lasă-mă-n durerea, pana mea. Am şi eu o pană ca pana lui Blecher, am şi o durere. O durere ca el, plurală. Am şi un corp.