Thursday, November 30, 2006

E

The face lifts,
floating on a mountain,
within a sphere.
The annihiliation elaborates.
To dots.
From then on
the face limbs to residue
and sits
within lines and points.
What music
is this?
Can it transform? Can it reveal? Can it untangle the masks?
Go underwater, life is prettier out there.
Smile, this is not the end. Its only the beginning of
the end.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

My brother is doing a short 12 minute film on his firm Hundredhands. He asked me to do the music. Needs to be edited down to 12 minutes. Anyway, here it is. All southern, mellow and relaxing (C, you are going to like this). Go to sleep. :)

Monday, November 27, 2006

New

I am going to get a new slate.
A new set of eyes.
A new heart.
A new mouth.
And to hear a new sound,
a new ear
... all one month before the new year.

----

I feel all fresh and warm inside.

Friday, November 24, 2006

You are the best (and the worst) thing that ever happened to me.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Text

I tend the mobile now
like an injured bird

We text, text, text
our significant words.

I re-read your first
your second, your third,

look for your small xx,
feeling absurd.

The codes we send
arrive with broken chord.

I try to picture your hands,
their image is blurred.

Nothing my thumbs press
will ever be heard.

----

Carol Ann Duffy

Friday, November 17, 2006

My God, My God, why have You Foresaken Me?

----

In the last six hours of His life, nailed to a cross, Jesus uttered seven statements. The one statement "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me" stands out as something you would not expect coming from Jesus.

I follow you

To see oneself without the world,
not to recognize oneself in the mirror.
How fragile
we are, and frail,
made only of meat and bone.
The finest feelings come clear
in the tangible memory of someone
whose appearance is already intangible.
As children,
we swallow the void,
what is yours without you,
me.
Wanting a voice to fill us,
we strain to hear echoes within
which never stop
dreaming of their origins.
Happy is she who can face
all that withdraws
and remains

----

Pura López-Colomé
translated by Forrest Gander

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Monday, November 13, 2006

The Big Three One

So I am a 31 year old boy now. I can make patterns with the white hair in my beard. I can look at the mirror and see wrinkles near my eyes (and crowfeet). I smile a lot lesser now. I still crack jokes, though. But to a very few people. I am comfortable being alone. Thirty was a good year. I will remember it for completing my film and being proud of it (it will be always be one of my most personal pieces of work). I will remember it for R. I will remember it for K. I will remember it for Bflat Minor on my piano. I will remember it for finally coming to London (I will try and erase the colour Turquoise from my head, though). I will remember it for that lovely roadtrip to Kerala with my mom (I never felt that close to her). I will remember it for new friends and for old friends - being there.

And on the first day of being 31, I will remember you, R. For taking me ice-skating, for the lovely handmade card, for the lovely Paul Smith gifts (I must say I have a respectable set of PS acquisitions now), for the fireworks, and for just being yourself. :) Thankyou R. :) I think I'm going to cry.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Angelpie

You are like a little angel, small enough to sit on my shoulders,
You wear a white shirt, you hold a little white wand,
You whisper in my ears sometimes,
sometimes you sing.

----

A simple poem for R.