Friday, December 10, 2004

just like it says on the label

I spent last night at Shelley's house in Brooklyn. She showed me a picture of her and Julie taken back in the day, and it made me so sad I cried myself to sleep. I'm so fucking far beyond caring about what anyone would think about that.

My previous post was true, but incomplete - I really don't have the energy for kids. I also don't have the energy for just about everything else in life. Particularly the slings and arrows, but ironically it's not the major traumas that hurt the most, it's the little things, the tiny details.

Apparently I'm an idiot sometimes... I don't want to be tougher, to increase my ability to withstand such things. Why should I be the one to change (for the worse)? It's the world that's fucked up.

That said, I awoke this morning feeling pretty calm. Shelley and I are going to SoHo today to shop like nobody's bidness, and I'm enjoying the opportunity to hang out with her after all these years.

I'm a little stressed that the circumstances today are going to preclude my daily reading time with Julie's daughter Zoe, a duty that I'm surprised I accepted at all, let alone allow myself to take pretty seriously.

Fuck, I just reread what I've written today... I feel like I'm supposed to end this post with some weepy emo poetry. Ain't going to happen. But as a public service, I'll provide the following space for you to fill in whatever you deem appropriate:

Go to.


Blogger krishna said...

I cannot think of a weepy emo (is that emotional?) poem that fits the bill. But, let me quote few lines from an old, telugu song:
“Jagame maya
Bathuke maya
Vedalalo sara mintenaya”

Nothing very profound but it serves us well to remember them once in a while.
The meaning is as follows: This world is an illusion; this life is an illusion; this is the essence of Vedas.” I understand the feeling of infinite sadness that comes upon us, at times. It need not have any cause. Even a happy occasion like meeting old friends (Nostalgia?) can trigger emotions. I remember having a lump in my throat when I visited my college after many years. The place was the same but the atmosphere was different.

“It made me so sad I cried myself to sleep.”

I have seen men (my father, my brother, my male friends) cry. Crying is a very good way to unburden oneself. I only wish that more men learned the value of crying. But, see how chauvinistic the society is. In my mother tongue, there is a proverb, which says that one should not trust a man who cries and a woman who laughs. Men are supposed to be the stronger sex. Poor men have been conditioned by such beliefs and expectations. Sure! It's the world that's f***** up. (Why this very American obsession with f*** word?)

Have a nice time in Chicago.
  Post a Comment
return to front page