greek love

this love for you I have is
greek love. Because
there isn't one word
to say what this love
for you means,
so I thought better to give away
a few more than one.

this love I have for you is
greek love. Because
you dubbed me Aphrodite
and I wished we were
platonic.
this love for you is greek, definitely.

Agape, a gaping hole that
that consumes us in dark when
we are close
and shines the light on the distance.
Eros, for we love truly , only when
we are away.

this love is greek for sure, says Aristotle.
Philia, a general type love from a bottle
strong enough to suffer for,
weak enough to stay nameless.
this love is love as much love
as love in love can be.
storge or thelema or khaos
this love I have for you is,
greek positively.
(because i just don't get it.)

big spam

due to excessive spamming, comment moderation has been activated.

**

I think I meet great people, even intelligent and talented. The problem is that they meet me

end of chapter

To "gift for him",
sorry if i have been bothering you with random emails.
perhaps it was my unconsious that has been throwing things at me.
but in a conversation I realised may be what began 2 weeks ago.
You remember i wrote you an email about you and your boy.
well, ive been talking about myself,
ive been having more dreams,
even visions while watching TV and things..
and it was talking about me as much as it was talking about you.

i'll cut it short.
that something that popped out of the picture
I saw of you and "the boy who won the moon",
I saw it again today
was this energy..
it felt like what you had found,
what nidhi had found in milan
was a soulmate.

just a simple thing.
like two puzzle peices
that fit perfectly together
very unpoetic imagery i know..

in korea ive thought about **** and ***** a lot.
when i was in hospital
the thoughts that crossed me were
if this is how i would leave the world,
what would i have left my loved ones?
in my love for perfection, for bettering myself
i expect others to do the same as well..
pretty much a kind of plato or hitler.
ive watched TV about chimpanzees and their sexual selection
about selecting superior genes and better mates..
about hitler wanting a superior race.
and im just like them.

but im not perfect.
no way.
i wasnt turning people down.
i can't.
but i was guilty in my heart.
of that unsure reason
that made me say no to the best people ive ever met.

ive always wanted to meet someone
i could spend endless time with
someone with a love of nature
with a song in his heart
not afraid to share his emotions
and then i said no
i dont love you.
and let him slip away.
and it killed me till today..
but today i realised i only said those
because i didnt think i was his soulmate.
because there was love and warmth
and care and fights and issues
and selfishness from my side.

and its the same with *****

there is all this inarticulate rubbish in my head.
but its only an effort to love and respect.
i just wish i would consistently wake up saner and better
and not fall into the depths of my self created hell.

inshah allah.
lotsa love
and thanks for listening,
just felt i needed to tell you this to end the
chapter that began with the email about your picture.

dee

in the heart of the seed.

I want to say a lot of things that may not sound best when written as they are. But this is what my mind wants said so I shall say them . I wonder how important attraction is in our interactions with people. Why it shapes our love and why hormones play such an important role. Why is it that somebody I think extremely precious and close I am not attracted to, as if there is a purity of the love I have for them , like a sibling I want to share all my time and energy but may not share a bed. And those who I very willingly undress for are not the best of people, but their simplicity and smallest effort are enough to convince me.
It is as if someone who is closer to goodness I expect more of, and someone who is closer to a world of immediate gratification can make the slightest effort towards good and be appreciated by me.
Who am I ? some sort of judge or queen?
Why is it important for me to be possessed by you and you alone and why is it that we cannot be individuals who learn from each other each day. If you give me, my free will, without pressure there is no limit to our love and more importantly our friendship. I hope you still think of friendship as a word of value. Why is it not enough that we learn our lessons from each other?
I see love and lovemaking are equally important. I see that attraction is a sign that assures us, or the lack of it is a sign that says something is not as it seems. What the mind doesn't know the body knows. Then why can't we just hold hands and watch sunsets for a while, not expecting a postcard of lovers at the horizon, romanticizing ourselves. Wouldn't we be more true to ourselves and the moment if we let it tell us who we are than defining it ourselves?
I know this is of little consequence when compared to the worlds problems, but this is at the heart of many things. This problem of playing roles in peoples lives, defining how they should function or how we should function in theirs, creates a distance and takes away from the honesty we are capable of.
why can't we speak again and grow old just as we are?
a step ahead of each other, never together.

to you, who is exempt from death

I think always,
of the power that made me
say the last no i said to you.
of the courage sudden and born in me
to push those words out.
I think always,
of how it would be,
if we stayed close enough to touch
but not kiss,
to discover what we loved
and hated before we separated.
I wish in the whiteness of your room,
I found a space next to you,
just by your side
to see the world
the way you saw it.
I wish we could be people who loved.
instead of trying to be the ones
in love.

I wish we helped each other
as much we help those around us.
what is it about us that makes us, us?

stale pizza decisions

some decisions are better
if made a day later..
like stale pizza tastes better reheated
the next morning.

an afterthought to self:

you know how hard it is for you everyday

to find a matching pair of socks

in your cupboard

in a city you have lived only

for six months. now think about the world

and the billion people

and love again.

such rubbish the mind makes

what if you collected everything that makes love,

that you love, that feels love,

would it be love?

and then if someone found it

rotting years later in the box in your bed,

would they find love?

and if you forgot about it

and thought you lost it

and then suddenly remembered

where its been, would it be

lost and found love?

is life like this?

like language?

where a word here or there

makes a huge difference

to the sense it makes.

I want to write today.

Awake early with dreams like the empty of an eaten watermelon.. I want to write about the silence of not knowing what to say, when you want to say a lot and quickly. I want to write today about the many confusions of knowing many and more and more good people and having to arrange them in an order and love them in that order. I want to write about how it is impossible to put a patten onto your life and then live it, knowing the limits. I want to to write about making a choice and going at it head on and not changing, not thinking about the lose ends. Today makes me want to take my life and butcher it up, (like the movie butterfly effect) and make another mess and another mess and leaving it at a mess for I have done enough in this mess I live to experiment, and I'm not yet sure it was something I regret . Today I want to write about the intense dissatisfaction I have being myself, and being myself in the lives of people I love. Today I want to write about those feelings I am that I wish I wasn't. (Tomorrow this writing will be on of those feelings.) Today, I want to write about how much I am willing of forgetting myself sometimes, but waking early the next morning I begin to think and hate and worry again about myself. Today, to write anything, is to put down my worry, my frown, that cold shiver that went down my spine when I thought of how I loved and hated, of how I live in a country with a billion people who similarly love and hate and wake up early in the morning.. and have no teeth and are bleeding internally, or having their breakfast and leaving in a hurry, or just are reading the newspaper . Of these people, the ones I know, what have I done in their lives?

and sometimes

wanting to help someone

I don't know how honest it is.

How much is it a help

to your idea of hope.

but at least it is help to another.

and how bad can that be.

Just a quick one to say what I feel about what I'm doing when I'm performing.

I said a little while back, that you can be an activist, fighter pilot, doctor saving million lives and I could be an insignificant, often injured performer, offering only a few moments of intrigue or beauty.. but we are all here to learn our lessons and there is nothing more real than that.

So I just want to say my very fresh thoughts about the stage and me. I felt, today, sitting in the theatre in Seoul like I was 60 and looking back at what I've done with the stage so far. Although I've just shaken hands with Mr. Stage. really. I could say meeting the stage was pretty much meeting my first boyfriend. I fell in love not knowing what it was really about (with the stage and the boy roughly the same time) At first i was fascinated with this thing called performance, because everyone was and there was nothing majorly wrong about it so why not be fascinated.. then there was a time when the stage was there and I wasn't sure about what I could do with it. Today, when I walked into the theatre I was happy to have all these thoughts melt away. Today, when the lights came on me and my injured body ( not as scary as it sounds.. well so far.. i'm fine) I knew what to do here, I knew I'm here because I can do something with this, and that 6 years of waiting around prompting lines, lifting staircases dressed in all black, putting flowers in green rooms, designing costumes and peering from the light room to hear the cue have not disappeared into nothingness. Today, there was a playfulness. There was no distance between me and the stage, a cold uncomfortable one, or the strangeness of the eyes behind the curtain of light. I was there to say something and it was as real as sitting across you at a table telling you a story.

Making a dance piece or working on a play didn't feel a big thing. I'm always iffy about a new book of white pages. As much as I want the newness I'm afraid I wont be able to go through the whole thing, keep myself consistent and finish it. Just like a dance peice, now I know slowly putting things together isn't tough and I can do it.

No performance can wholly contain a performer, its a slice of what we can do and sometimes like in my case, you can only do a slice.

i tried to refrain..

but I really want to sign off as Peena Ouch.

(like Pina Bausch you know)

Specialization is for Insects

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

-Robert A. Heinlein

Jesse: Do you believe in reincarnation?

Celine: Yeah. Yeah, it's interesting.

Jesse: Yeah, right. Well, most people, you know, a lot of people talk about past lives and things like that, you know? And even if they don't believe it in some specific way, you know, people have some kind of notion of an eternal soul, right?

Celine: Yeah.

Jesse: OK, well this was my thought: 50,000 years ago, there are not even a million people on the planet. 10,000 years ago, there's, like, two million people on the planet. Now there's between five and six billion people on the planet, right? Now, if we all have our own, like, individual, unique soul, right, where do they all come from? You know, are modern souls only a fraction of the original souls? 'Cause if they are, that represents a 5,000 to 1 split of each soul in the last 50,000 years, which is, like, a blip in the Earth's time. You know, so at best we're like these tiny fractions of people, you know, walking...I mean, is that why we're so scattered? You know, is that why we're all so specialized?

Celine: I don't know. Wait a minute, I'm not sure...I don't...

Jesse: Yeah, hang on, hang on. It's a, it's a totally scattered thought. It...which is kind of why it makes sense.

random quotes off the internet and the film Before Sunrise which make sense together

with the chat with Suneel.

woof woof

Mahima and me seem to be on something here. sending across words to each other. just a word a day and what we think about it, and what it thinks about us..

when life's a bitch, bitches are friends :P

In Korea a dog barks mung mung, in India it barks bhoa bhao, in the rest of the world i think its woof woof.

the learning matrix called life

You can be a fighter. I can be a dancer.

you can be a writer. I can be a singer.

you can be a poet and I can be a cook.

you can be a gamer and i can be a sports star.

we're here to learn our lessons and we'll learn them anyway. together or away.

What you learn as a CEO might be the same as the security guard.

and thats all that matters - the learning.

in the process, you may create beauty, you may rebel against injustice, you may fill the world with love, feed people or save lives...sometimes I wonder what is the right thing to do. Does filling the world with beauty and saying something about something else qualify as a job? Yes, it may be inspiration, yes it may make life more interesting for people, make us a better civilisation, but does it really matter if I'm a dancer and you are a poet fighter writer cook?

sometimes, i think I rather own roadside cafe, or restaurant and feed people till midnight. where i read tarot and talk to people about things they have given up on.anyhoo, a dancer i am now... so my learning lies here.

..

I think blogs are dying. Blogger is no longer a place you can walk into somebody's life's worth of poems, angst or drawings. Its been ages since I found someone who didn't blog about their day at school.

major pipe minor pipe

We, brilliant human beings are simply a bad plumbing job. What we carry with us as bodies is pretty much a portable, displaceable pipe that begins at the mouth and ends you know where..

Felt like a sink or wash basin as you hear liquid gurgling down your throat or get acidic after eating a citrus fruit?

Everything is a pipe, connected to another pipe. Major pipe to minor pipe, like big river and its tributaries. What is important is not what gets held or is fixed, contained by the body or what is the body, but how it comes in contact and how it gets out, what is the outcome of this process in terms of energy/ learning / experience?

Now think of picking a shade of hair colour, waterproof mascara or kissable lipstick.

I'm interested in knowing how someone who believes idea 1 is supposed to co-exist with someone who believes idea 2. I'm interested in knowing how someone can have both these ideas co-exist and battle against each other every day. And its not particularly about these ideas that I'm interested.. I'm interested in my interestedness.. in what knowledge is, why our opinions are not knowledge and why our instinct is not our knowledge. When I feel, you are cold to me, I feel this, and when you deny it, who is true? When I say black and white for this photograph isn't as good as the colour version, how do you get to decide that what I think is wrong? Who decides which feeling is accurate, or correct or honest? And what if both are?

note to self.

Stage fright can only happen when you are presenting yourself to be liked by the audience. But when you really just want to say something all you have to do it say it, through your medium.. I guess there is no space for fear in this situation.

At the Delphic Competition of Dance, it was the first and only time I've been on a stage with dance all alone. I haven't performed often and even when I do its under the blanket of a lot of other dancers. I didn't tire, or shiver or lose my thought process by the end of it.

remember that feeling. keep it with you. say something with your work.

..

there will be some people who refuse the half apple you offer them, because they want the whole thing. let them be. eat your half.

may be someday they will notice that you offered. happy belated birthday. re-reading letters to the police is not probably the best way to remember someone who doesn't wish to be remembered, but I'm no someone who can hush into the night what i wish to say. I say it, one way or another. somethings i don't understand and you are one of them. Only you, on the other hand, think you understand me too well. Perhaps that is true. You for me or me for you are not a regret. I know. But causes and consequences have their way of being their way. May you have good health and your efforts find their way to their fruit. As always I wish you good, only don't know how to get it to you.

Ive moved

The address to send your postcards has changed. I haven't done anything about it. All my belongings (hopefully all!) have been moved in neatly packed cardboard boxes to my new house that I haven't seen. I might be one of those people who moved house across the street in a city while living in another country. seeing with eyes shut is trusting.

When I come back to the space that surrounds me after watching a film I find myself uncomfortably in a hotel room with a dull light. It amazes how removed from my home I am in this situation. Away from my parents home (which is waiting to be broken and reconstructed), away from my rented apartment which has changed to god knows what now, and away from my dormitory in Seoul to a hotel room on an island with a dull light.

In three months, I will go back H.O.M.E. which is I dont know what anymore. Its not something thats killing me.Unavoidably all the repeats in the story that are yelling to be noticed.

My mother : a school essay

Since the time I've come to Seoul my mother has learnt to use gmail chat and type faster. Next thing I know she will have a facebook account and upload naked baby pictures of me! hehe:D

But staying apart has made us talk about so many things we wouldn't have spoken about. Even simply exchanging information is part of our conversation, gossiping about my sister's wedding or what the neighbour's new secret is to whats cooking at home and the state of dad's health. Things that would just be overheard are now an active part of our conversation. I feel responsible for the words I speak, responsible for the questions I ask to know what I want to know. Mother even came online late according to indian time one night after watching a show about young girls being hurt by their boyfriends and the trauma that hit their parents. She said it made her think of me so she thought she might as well check if I was looming around the cyberspace. Time apart has given us time to consider what comes off our mouths is what we want to say or what it will make the other feel. We've become more considerate of each other's personal spaces and freedom and feelings. I feel she has been able to live a little more thanks to my mistakes, knowing for sure there is someone out there worse off than her, only she wishes it wasn't her daughter. I hope there will be things she can be proud of, I hope there are days she would like to live again because of me, if not yet, there will be soon.