thank you for smiling

everybody loves hm, according to her
i like to second her

i cheer up everytime i see you
even when you are on the reciever
trying to get the pole dancer and saying hi to me at the same time
smiles and hi s
"hi"
"hi" ( "can i speak to the pole dancer pls")
smiles
" just want to say hi"
"i am useless"
"why do you say that?"
nothing much, i went in cheerfully
like the protagonist bleeding her guts on her poor unsuspecting neighbour
in this context, failure at being more adult, pyschosis inflicted and under assumed normalcy
so called a thinking person
the nice kids in school are the real teachers
you learn a thing or two about being human from them daily
being considerate like consoling someone after the aftermath of toppled coffee and zilch domestic purposefulness
after two flights of stairs, showing off cubicle decor in the glory of katrina-just-left debris
being proud of a poster where two semi nude girls shared a book and fag
and people who are not nice due to incurable laidbackness can be really nice especially those that can boast of vacation job kitchen experience
point to note, toppled coffee is very good
a boy who mumbles so it's really difficult to maintain him as part of any conversation
strangely, he made himself heard across the room while we were talking about something else
to the baffled silence of everyone else when i had to answer- "Sat but friday is good"
an open date or dare, neither even close. conspiracy theories on the reading faces
a rapunzel in a tower who talks like she's not talking in her fairytale
you should see her on the phone, it might make you a lip-reading convert
the keith haring expert; a sickening gal with a kind heart and menacing attitude when not expanding my vocab
and more
when i go, i'll have that knowledge in me
the world is beautiful
i can see that even if i don't necessarily partake of the notion
gek li says bye and see you tomorrow

a reminder that you are alive

you don't have to make art to be a human being

it is unnatural to talk

kureishi

one of those days i wanted to see her
that day i found myself able to tell her
i thought we could look at disturbing pictures and not feel compelled to speak
i am not sure if it would be a good thing
i am not sure if her mind would run wild
i am quite sure staying away would be the best for everybody
but i miss her friendship too

i am a human being
my fears are humane

hanif

i am not completely unmoved to reply
why can't i be nice and say something
i can't
i don't want to begin thinking about it again
i do not want to start a conversation
please continue your monologue
i am listening

in response to kureishi, hanif.
we have made it complicated but.

a reminder to live

G sent me this the other day:

in the end, there is only one subject for an artist.
what is the nature of human experience?
what is it to be alive, suffer and feel?
what is it to love and need another person?
to what extent can we know anyone else?
or ourseleves?
what it is to be a human being?

hanif kureishi

WHY I STOLE BOOKS AND BIRDS

DAS UNHEIMLICH

the nice man at The Clinic kept asking me why i stole books and birds

das unheimlich...

in actual fact, i have only stolen one book and one bird

book: mode of meaning making
appropriation; what are you reading into the text?
every text you are taken with begins and ends with autobiography
try burroughs for alternative

bird: mode of meaning making made meaningful by association
eg, strindberg's tragic heroine, miss julie and her pet bird

birds and books. meaning and pyschosis

i told him it was about meaning

he suggested very politely that it could be a kind of psychosis

"you think meaning is psychosis?"

" an obsession with meaning at the expense of the ordinary shape of life is psychosis"

"i do not accept that life has an ordinary shape. nor is there anything ordinary about life at all. we make it ordinary but it is not"

he twiddled his pencil. his nails were very clean.

"i am only asking questions"

"so am i"

there was a pause

" define pyschosis"

he wrote on a piece of paper- psychosis: out of touch with reality

since then i have been trying to touch reality.

THE TEXT FROM LIGHTHOUSEKEEPING

After the Talking bird, the nice man at the Tavistock Clinic kept asking me why i stole books and birds, though i have only ever stolen one of each.

I told him it was about meaning, and he suggested, very politely, that might be a kind of psychosis.

'You think meaning is psychosis?'

'Án obsession with meaning, at the expense of the ordinary shape of life, might be understood as psychosis, yes.'

'I do not accept that life has an ordinary shape, or that there is anything ordinary about life at all. We make it ordinary, but it is not.'

He twiddled his pencil. His nails were very clean.

'I am only asking questions.'

'So am I.'

There was a pause.

I said,' How would you define psychosis?'

He wrote on a piece of paper with his pencil: Psychosis: out of touch with reality

Since then, I have been trying to find out what reality is, so that i can touch it.

death by asphyxiation

a lonely industrial illustrator is in love with a girl with the way she seems to be in love with her clothes
they have a fifteen years gap that would not deter them to live in bliss
a teenage stalker does not realize that her adulation have reduced her to... a teenage stalker
as with all adulations, her subjects could only despise her as she spirals further into self fulfilling sympathy and ardent psychotic declarations
an iranian man who speaks russian when in love believes in revolution against himself
every love affair affirms his eventual loneliness and my boredom
the administator is pale and intense like Delaura who dreamt of a girl eating grapes
contrary to beliefs, hair cease to grow when a person dies
the truth is the skin contracts and i gave up talking to him midpoint
it is true i don't love you anymore but we can be friends
i spent my time running away from something that i am not
"completely unaware of"
a boy told me today that most teenagers or boys, "not him or she or whoever" think of sex from the word leisure
" ok. what do they do? masturbate? that's exertion not relaxation."
he just stared at me
" take away the sexual connotations, you have the rest of your life for it and you may want to read anne sexton's ballad of the lonely masturbator. that's all."
strange, just because i am wearing a navy sailor dress makes me feel like a perverse japanese school girl handing out facts.

now, mink oil
and polyethlene.

moody morticia

morticia morticia why are you so moody
morticia morticia why are you so moody
morticia morticia why are you so moody

timor mortis conturbat me

pain for beginners

a list of painful things borne out of love
my broken earring that you would mend
i was heartbroken because i wrote you achingly beautiful poems that you would never get to read
that alone justifies them to be achingly beautiful
her sore eyes
an acrylic brooch
a beautiful black box of bitter chocolate
how far my love goes for everyone i used to love or am obligated to feel for
roses, fresh or/and wilted
her disappointment
almost fatalistic

my broken earring that you would mend
the scars on my arms
on the way to the hotel
i passed by the place i took you after a long walk
i remember what you said the other day about me taking you for a very long walk once
and i replied it never happened
i didn't catch the name but the neighbouring shop sells apple struddels

nobody speaks the language i know in school
and sometimes i forget myself
i slipped out of my green blouse into m's t-shirt
at the dressing table, in the dark
the 3 girls watching and waiting on the bed
and cheryl suddenly shrieked because i looked like a ghost in white
" how can you give a white shirt to a girl with long hair?"
i saw myself in the mirror and had a fright
cheryl- "why?"
me-" i scare myself! "
cheryl- " darling, quick, come to bed!"
the four of us shared a big bed and slept badly
except m
s slept in the living room like a contortionist
failed contortionist
all of us were successful insomniacs though
except m

each of us took turns to wake her up
i tapped her cheek with my fingertips and she put her leg across me
i told her the time and she asked for fifteen minutes
it is not difficult to love m
she grinds her teeth when she sleeps
if you ever wake up on the same bed as her, plant a kiss on her forehead

i wanted to tell you i was massaged and learnt how to massage
it is usually painful for me but not terribly so
thanks to cheryl, the great
she said i learn fast
though she felt like she was being murdered by a very nervous murderer when i did the stepping
i was worried that the painting hanging on top of the bed which i held for balance would fall and knock s and her unconscious
i would tell you about the massage experience
yet i realize i didn't want to tell you
i bought some nice music
and i realize i didn't need to share with you
and that isn't painful afterall

untitled

for f,
whom i'm in love with in spite of our great differences
because i turned to him abruptly, wanted to say something but was stopped short.
by his side profile. close. to revelation.
he was looking ahead.
" why are you staring at me?"
me-"are you going to scold me?"
and he smiled. a minor miracle. a part of life.
" who would dare to scold you..."

i'm staring at you because i'm amazed.