Monday, February 27, 2006

How fickle fake can be.

Name

When did your name
change from a proper noun
to a charm?

Its three vowels
like jewels
on the thread of my breath.

Its consonants
brushing my mouth
like a kiss.

I love your name.
I say it again and again
in this summer rain.

I see it,
discreet in the alphabet,
like a wish.

I pray it
into the night
till its letters are light.

I hear your name
rhyming, rhyming,
rhyming with everything.

----

Carol Ann Duffy

Sunday, February 26, 2006

k.u.

The light goes out
Expression breeds communication
A promise is made
I am closer than you think
A light comes on
The question works without an answer
A target is made
The rifle is loaded
Hit me on the head
You are a ticket
The light goes out
Everything is clear
I am
omnipresent, a footprint, a process
A light comes on
A switch opens

Friday, February 24, 2006

Childrhyme

Follow the moon
over sleep strewn paths
time's bright scythe
in a pane of black
reaping dreams
till stars are gone
and rust red sun
corrodes the dawn

----

Beautiful words from singing moon.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

of you

Everyday there are instances
of you
Everyday there are traces
of you
Everyday there are memories
of you
And in everyway, I have lost something
of you

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Being Osama

So, we had the third screening at the XVA Club. Because of a lot of publicity, we had a lot of people. I think there were atleast 60-70 people in that space. I had front row seats and I was with my two lovely angels. My third angel is sitting in London. :(

Generally, it was a great vibe. Lots of interesting people. Never thought Dubai had all these people hiding in their artnests... waiting to come out. The film was a documentary called BEING OSAMA by an American/Arab guy called Mahmoud Kabbour. It was really good. I enjoyed it completely. It spoke of the lives of 6 Canadian Arabs who were cursed with the name Osama and the troubles they go through in life because of that. The music was very interestingly interspersed with the film and lent itself very well to the narrative. Good work. So, I am expecting many people next week for "Amores Perros". Hopefully, when Christa is here, "C" (our band) can do a set there of about 4-5 songs. No, Christa?

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Confusion

Color floods to the spot, dull purple.
The rest of the body is all washed out,
The color of pearl.

In a pit of rock
The sea sucks obsessively,
One hollow the whole sea's pivot.

The size of a fly,
The doom mark
Crawls down the wall.

The heart shuts,
The sea slides back,
The mirrors are sheeted.

----

P for Plath

Monday, February 20, 2006

Of good angels and mother earth, what more can I ask for in this everlasting stretch of fractured fountains?

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Synesthesia

I'm lying on a stretcher
They're lying to my face
There's no-one left to help me
I'm just a waste of space

It's a matter of moments
I'll be dead before you've read
There's blood on the table
And my back is full of lead

----

Steven Wilson (Porcupine Tree)

Thursday, February 16, 2006

So, the second screening at the XVA club happened yesterday. It was a documentary on quantum science and peptides (?) called "What the bleep do we know". It wasnt my choice. I was bored. The last thing you want after a hard day at work is a big load of science, electrons, mass, neurons, neural nets and suchlike. Guardian, save me. Anyway, the bottomline is YOU MAKE ME SICK, I MAKE MUSIC. Say what?

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Face first into a slice of love, with only elastic to keep him safe.

----

JP

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

West country girl

With a crooked smile and a heart-shaped face
Comes from the West country where the birds sing bass
She's got a house-big heart where we all live
And plead and council and forgive
Her widow's peak, her lips I've kissed
Her glove of bones at her wrist
That I have held in my hand
Her Spanish fly and her monkey gland
Her Godly body and its fourteen stations
That I have embraced, her palpitations
Her unborn baby crying, "Mummy"
Amongst the rubble of her body
Her lovely lidded eyes I've sipped
Her fingernails, all pink and chipped
Her accent which I'm told is "broad"
That I have heard and has been poured
Into my human heart and filled me
With love, up to the brim, and killed me
And rebuilt me back anew
With something to look forward to
Well, who could ask much more than that?
A West country girl with a big fat cat
That looks into her eyes of green
And meows, "He loves you", then meows again

----

As a valentines day special, I felt Nick Cave's words work the best. What images.
I have nothing to say today. I am sick of what I am doing at my job. I am sick of not finding satisfaction in creating. I am sick of taking orders from fuckin deadweights. I am sick of hearing people praising work that looks like horseshit. I am sick, I think I am going to throwup. Today will be a good day for that. Go for the kill, cowboy.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Felony

See the slant
Free complaints
That the sunlight
Should be more straight

Flee from dreary
Stumble upon she
Mountain misdemeanors
Should be more straight

Fool of herself
Windfree solemn
One broken promise
Should be more straight

Misunderstood mornings
Come my delight
Curve of your face
Could be more straight

----

A gorgeous poem by Rajan. No?

Closer to you

Wish I was a stocking clinging to your thigh
Everytime you'd move around I'd view you walking by
Wish I was your underwear hanging around your waist
Everytime you'd shake that thing I'd get a little taste
If I was a pair of boots I wouldn't have to beg
I'd be satisfied just being around your leg
When I am dreaming it takes so many trips
I'd pretend that I'm a stick to decorate your lips
If I am a necklace hanging down your front
When you feel the time was right I'd notice what you want
Wish I was a silk shirt draped around your back
Right next to your skin tryin' to make contact
If I had my wishes, If I had my way
I'd be all the same to you, each and everyday
Closer, closer, closer to you
Closer, closer, closer to you

----

The honest lovesong by J.J.Cale.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

I was this close to doing myself in. A range rover is a dangerous thing. The curves are killing me. Go slower, baby. When I ride that sight, the sound. Just letting it slide. Chromed-up, green inside. Its the friction putting my mind at ease. Such a tease. Go slower, baby.

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Sartorius: You are a reproduction. A mechanical reproduction. A copy. A matrix.

----

So, finally, the filmclub has lifted off. We screened "Solaris" yesterday to a small compact audience of about 13 people. The traffic was the cause for many not showing up. But, Dubai anyway has always been about "not showing up". Its in fashion. Be on a magazine cover instead. Be spotted in trilogy, get photographed. A high. Everyone's become a copy, a matrix. Anyway, I am digressing here. So, its happening. Every week, a movie, some talk and you can even order a mint lemonade. Gorgeousness. Mona rocks. If you are interested in enrolling for future screenings write to me or Mona Hauser at XVA. You are a target market. :)

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

I like...

I like my fourty-four m, I like my sunshine stem, I like my six-pack brain, I like my self-justified rain, I like my point eight g's, I like my severe idiosyncracies, I like my 6-speed gears, but on a cold cold night my mind cradles a thousand tears.
In the night I look for love
Get my strength from the man above
God of piston, god of steel
God is here behind the wheel

----

polly jean rocks my world. here words are like sweat running down my back.

Monday, February 06, 2006

They are all the same. They are part of a group. They are all the same. They live in a loop. They are all the same. Kill em all, make them soup, make them soup.

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Paper Tiger (excerpt)

Just like a paper tiger
Torn apart by idle hands
Through the helter skelter morning
Fix yourself while you still can

No more ashes-to-ashes
No more cinders from the sky
Let all the laws of creation
Tell a dead man how to die

There's one road to the morning
There's one road to the truth
There's one road back to civilization
But there's no road back to you

----

Beck.
Those last four lines kill me. A craft, truly.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Do I need?
Destiny
Do I need?
Schedule life
Do I need?
Working trends
Do I need?
Recess lines