The poet scribbled in his old yellowed notebook. He wrote of soldiers and sailors, war and whiskey, Indians, highways and mystery trains. He wrote of ghosts, death, demons and angels. Most often though, he wrote of the pale, freckled, red haired Irish queen.
He lit his cigarette and stared out the window of his French hotel room, up at the sombre summer sky. Albinoni’s Adagio wept through the speakers of his old radio. He watched the street, scattered with strange looking people. They scurried and scampered and seemed to be racing against time. He was one of them once. But that was a lifetime ago.
2.00AM. He was having a soak in the tub, surrounded in steam. The cigarette in his hand was the last stick left. There
zwas a bottle of whiskey on the floor. Next to it, his thick notebook, now almost completely filled up, lay opened. He combed back his thick, untamed curls with his foamy fingers and looked down at the familiar words – words he already had etched in the corners of his mind. He spoke the verses out loud and listened as his voice echoed against the moulding walls as if speaking back to him.
Leading to unlikely unions
Whose endings are expected
Expiration dates are inevitable
Bonds are meaningless now
Reduced to nothing more
Than once strong ties
Time takes a pause
And our lives seem lost
Still we keep moving
Yet blindly confident
Of better days ahead
One last mouthful of the hot brown liquid and the glass bottle was emptied. Subdued and lonesome, he drank too much to be sober but not enough to be drunk. Soon all that would change. He had always thought that death was dreadful. But at that moment – hunched in the water, crippled with regret, worry and fear – he wished it would come sooner. He shut his eyes. They never opened again.
Had a movie marathon with my cousin a few nights back. We watched Amityville II on Thrill (at 3 in the morning on a work day!) and I was starting to feel a liiiiittle sleepy until I saw this. Totally woke me up!
…post for the day…
I’ve been gone so long, so busy with work and the house and my cousin being back from Dubai and working out I haven’t had the time to blog/blog hop. And now that I’ve managed to squeeze in some time, I’ve just flooded my blog with new posts. Anyway, this last one is to share about something REALLY exciting which happened a few weeks ago.
An old friend of mine asked if I’d like to perform with her sister and her at the Indian Food Festival. Which is this really huge event (check out the stage). Only problem was that we she asked me this A WEEK before the show. I wasn’t sure what to say but I knew that I really wanted this – I miss putting on a costume and being on stage. But I didn’t want to sign up for something I couldn’t do. And I didn’t want to spoil their show. And, A WEEK? How would I manage to learn TWO dances in JUST a week??
I said okay in the end though. Told myself I’d do my best. And guess what, “A WEEK” two learn two songs in fact, it wasn’t A WEEK, but 3 hours of practice for a Bollywood item song and 2 hours of practice for a Belly Dancing song. From FIVE DAYS to just FIVE HOURS? Unsurprisingly, I TOTALLY screwed up the second dance. I don’t like Belly Dancing and it’s much harder to learn/remember. I did okay for the first song but I was so nervous it clearly showed on my face. I was trying to make sure I wouldn’t make any mistakes (which I did still anyway). I wish I could do this better next time. But I’m glad I went for it. Oh. And thanks to all that running I’ve been doing in the late afternoons, my arms are now super tanned compared to the rest of my body – especially my tummy and legs. And. I’ve also lost about 3 kilos. Super like! Costumes were sewn by my friend Mil, the one with the short hair.
Oh yeah. It was a HUGE GRAND event with media coverage and all. There was a lot of waiting and the schedule got messed up but in the end it was a good experience still.
You can watch the video here if you’d like. Must warn you that I look grumpy and worried though.
She dreamt of being the next Rayna James. But all she is, is just another Juliette. And that’s all that she’ll ever be. Ms Barnes without the beauty or the brains. The blonde without the talent, luck or guts. That girl from Alabama in the bright red shoes. The one always thinking but could never choose. Our Little Ms Mary Jane.
Can’t stop listening to “Soul Kitchen.”
Well, the clock says it’s time to close now
I guess I’d better go now
I’d really like to stay here all night
The cars crawl past all stuffed with eyes
Street lights share their hollow glow
Your brain seems bruised with numb surprise
Still one place to go
Still one place to go
Let me sleep all night in your soul kitchen
Warm my mind near your gentle stove
Turn me out and I’ll wander baby
Stumblin’ in the neon groves
Well, your fingers weave quick minarets
Speak in secret alphabets
I light another cigarette
Learn to forget, learn to forget
Learn to forget, learn to forget
Yes. I quit. My run that is. Barely just burned about sixteen calories. 368 steps. When BAM. I fell. Some guy walked up to me and offered me a band aid. And I told him I didn’t need it, thanks. Ten seconds later I realised why he suggested that.
Stings like mad. And I CANNOT stand the sight/thought of blood. So I feel ABSOLUTELY tortured right now. I mean. Seriously. I almost passed out when one of my kids had a bleeding nose. Don’t even get me started on how insane it gets when I have my period.
The walk home was horrible. I know. I’m just being a big giant baby. But I don’t have bad falls. In fact I’d say I’ve NEVER had bad falls. From what I can remember. And this, in my standards, is BAD. Beyond bad. I’m home now of course. Was down on the couch, up again, down again, up again, down on the floor. And now I realise the bleeding seems to have split into three different streams.I’m so worried about being permanently scarred!
Be safe as you run everyone!