Posts Tagged sauce

FIERY UMBRELLA AND OTHER STORIES

Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters
On my wall

-The Beatles

I never thought that i will be having this sort of vision that i can actually hold mid way to where i am supposed to be today.  One that has real clothes, real scent, and one whose laughter reverberated long after it is gone, one whose sweats can actually crawl out of foreheads and one that you can actually wipe.

Unlike other things that are meticulously planned  way ahead of time – starting with appropriate time, places that leaves a lot of impressions that’s usually cliché, the kind of food to eat, how to position spoons and forks, what comes before and after everything, specific  gestures, and specific disposition. All of these are rehearsed over and over again. However this is predictable and boring. anything planned ahead is boring, to a certain extent.  the aesthetics of being spontaneous presupposes the thinking self according to Descartes, it is not from the modern world but came way ahead before humanity discovered correlation between slow and fast, of departures and arrivals, of risking big and bigger.

It is more natural for me to go without plans and develop directions and consensus along the way. considerations are always welcome, like how weather behaves, i am erratic as always.  I revolved around the belief that characters should not be under duress, it should have time to reveal itself.

I always give myself time to surrender and fall by allowing gravity to overwhelm me. To spare myself from other sickness – I try not to think too much, and be misconstrued along the way, as if there is only one truth for everything out there – regardless where we embarked, regardless of the route we took, we will end up somewhere the living and the dead converge and share spaces.

One of  the many reasons why i kept an umbrella is to project resiliency, to show as if i’m prepared, to perhaps have the last laugh also. there’s some sort of comfort to walk under an umbrella, there’s some sort of music made when rain would start to tick-tack on the cloth on the makeshift roof just an inch from my head. i too love the idea how an umbrella can delay burning too, and that wilting can come later.

Shot like a flower in the dance

-Charles Bukowski

 

I always love basking under the sun, i want the burning to happen equitably over my skin, i am from the equator, and my words are fiery, everywhere my stares fall, tongues of the motherland will become infectious with fire. However my world is also water, i am fluid, i extinguish fires. like water  i am unpredictable, unstoppable to a certain extent, and continuous, and consistent, and persistent.  Sun may reclaim me, but i will return over and over again and fall as rain.

Like what happened before with my decisions – i do them with certainty.  then settle with uncertainty following  my decisions. these are the necessary contradictions that i need.

That way i am good at being misconstrued, that way everything in me is needed with all it’s darkness and brightness, it’s lightness and heaviness.

Today, i like how the sun presented itself. Today i like the way how you came and stretched your arms. today i like the way how shameless i am. today i like all the smudges, the rice on your hair, and the sweats all over our body. as much as i want to measure everything with  steps and get lost somewhere, the limitation with being random, unless in total surrender, it is caught somewhere with  pre-arrangement.

Randomness is poetry.

Oh well.

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