Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Velveteen Rabbit
by Margery Williams

What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”

- Dev, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, Rachel Cohn and David Levithan

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I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst i squander bood;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash
Appaled by secret want, i rush
From such assault of radience.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut the doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door i bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:

The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.


exerpt from Pursuit, by Sylvia Plath

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Saturday, September 27, 2008

[i stray -sleep deprived ]
[i sway - naam adaa likhna - OST: yahan]

This isn't my return ...
it's just to say i miss you .. yellowlane.

if i asked, would you start a revival for me?
i have a story i want to tell you.
_
sometimes i feel like we're a secret.

my syllabus looks very daunting to me. seems im still not really ready for the academic part of my life. haha. no seriously studying deliriously seven days a week has finally slowed down .. it's like my body's saying to me "for God's sake woman - STOP!" . thanks to these EID holidays. though i still have alot of study to do, an.. nah, 2 assignments due?


in other part of the cycle, it all happened so fast so now all that's left is for me to lie in a pool of regret, wishing i did this and not that. how ridiculous is that? sometimes i realise that im not at all in control of my life. people who i always expected to be there, i slowly realise will not always be there.
(ever so slowly). and so much of me just wants to say, 'not yet, we've only just begun'. i want to know you, and im tired of realising that i don't. if only i could learn this. because i still really want to know you.



i wish some things were less hard.
oh well lets hope for good, as i still have a hope in my heart. there seems to be a light at the end of the tunnel, hope for the betterment.


P.s. i dont know just what else to say right now. there's so much i could say, and i feel like this entry is just brushing the surface. but im so sleepy and i think i should be off to bed now. i like to disappear, but it's not good to disappear completely. i know.
good night yellowlane. ( :


_
neurotica
4:37 am

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Saturday, September 20, 2008

We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it.

He wrote, Are you OK?

I told him, My eyes are crummy.

He wrote, But are you OK?

I told him, That's a very complicated question.

I asked, Are you OK?

He wrote, Some mornings I wake up feeling grateful.

_
EXTREMELY LOUD AND INCREDIBLY CLOSE -
jonathan safran foer


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Seagull.
NINA. All men and beasts, lions, eagles, and quails, horned stags, geese, spiders, silent fish that inhabit the waves, starfish from the sea, and creatures invisible to the eye—in one word, life—all, all life, completing the dreary round imposed upon it, has died out at last. A thousand years have passed since the earth last bore a living creature on her breast, and the unhappy moon now lights her lamp in vain. No longer are the cries of storks heard in the meadows, or the drone of beetles in the groves of limes. All is cold, cold. All is void, void, void. All is terrible, terrible—[A pause] The bodies of all living creatures have dropped to dust, and eternal matter has transformed them into stones and water and clouds; but their spirits have flowed together into one, and that great world-soul am I! In me is the spirit of the great Alexander, the spirit of Napoleon, of Caesar, of Shakespeare, and of the tiniest leech that swims. In me the consciousness of man has joined hands with the instinct of the animal; I understand all, all, all, and each life lives again in me.


--Act I
Anton Chekov

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the fucking cops are fucking keen
to fucking keep it fucking clean
the fucking chief's a fucking swine
who fucking draws a fucking line
at fucking fun and fucking games
the fucking kids he fucking blames
are nowhere to be fucking found
anywhere in chicken town

the fucking scene is fucking sad
the fucking news is fucking bad
the fucking weed is fucking turf
the fucking speed is fucking surf
the fucking folks are fucking daft
don't make me fucking laugh
it fucking hurts to look around
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town

the fucking view is fucking vile
for fucking miles and fucking miles
the fucking babies fucking cry
the fucking flowers fucking die
the fucking food is fucking muck
the fucking drains are fucking fucked
the colour scheme is fucking brown
everywhere in chicken town

the fucking pubs are fucking dull
the fucking clubs are fucking full
of fucking girls and fucking guys
with fucking murder in their eyes
a fucking bloke is fucking stabbed
waiting for a fucking cab
you fucking stay at fucking home
the fucking neighbors fucking moan
keep the fucking racket down
this is fucking chicken town

the fucking train is fucking late
you fucking wait you fucking wait
you're fucking lost and fucking found
stuck in fucking chicken town
the fucking pies are fucking old
the fucking chips are fucking cold
the fucking beer is fucking flat
the fucking flats have fucking rats
the fucking clocks are fucking wrong
the fucking days are fucking long
it fucking gets you fucking down
evidently chicken town


- John Cooper Clarke

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed
by Dylan Thomas

Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.

Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.

Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.

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Wednesday, September 10, 2008
















. A giant panda cuddles its baby. The pictured baby panda is half the normal birth size.

. A worker measures one of twin baby pandas at the Bifengxia Base of China's Giant Panda Protection and Research Center, in Ya'an, China after Giant Panda "Guo Guo" gave birth to the twins at the base earlier in the day.
The twelve-year-old mother "Guo Guo" was rescued from the centre's Wolong base in Sichuan and brought to the Bifengxia base after a devastating earthquake.


_
Source:
http://environment.uk.msn.com/wildlife/gallery.aspx?cp-documentid=8733544

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Thursday, September 04, 2008

He wraps his arms around her from behind, buries his face in the side of her neck. 'I'm not going to leave. I love you. I love you so much.'

Her belly springs a leak and the liquid flows through his hands.

'I'm bones in a box, Teddy.'

'No.'

'I am. You have to wake up.'


_
Shutter Island, Dennis Lehane

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Static -
Nick Drake

When you pulled the t-shirt
over your stooped head
I heard the crackle of static
and imagined the soft,
invisible fur
of charged atmosphere
over the TV's
translucent imagery.

Lights out, my blind
and all-believing hands
discover the ghost
of a smile
on your invisible face;
here you are
in your skin,
shocking against mine.

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Sunday, August 24, 2008

[Roshan Jamaal-e-Yaar - Abida Parveen]
download - left click and follow the link.

_
Roshan Jamaal-e-Yaar

Roshan jamaal-e-yaar se hai anjuman tamaam
Dehka hua hai aatish-e-gul se chaman tamaam

Hayrat ghuroor-e-husn se shokhi se iztaraab
Dil ne bhi tere sheekh liye hain chalan tamaam

Allah re jism-e-yaar ki khoobi k khud-ba-khud
Rangeeniyon mein doob gaya pairahan tamaam

Daikho to chashm-e-yaar ki jadoo nigahiyaan
Behosh ik nazar mein hoi anjuman tamaam

Sheeriniye nasim hai sozo-gudaz-e-Mir
Hasrat tere sukhan pe hai rukhse-e-sukhan tamaam


lyricist: Moulana Hasrat Mohani

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Carry Me -
Chris de burgh

There is an answer, some day we will know,
And you will ask her, why she had to go,
We live and die, we laugh and we cry,
And you must take away the pain,
Before you can begin to live again;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the tears come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carre me like a fire in your heart;

There is a river rolling to the sea,
You will be with her for all eternity,
But we that remain need you here again,
So hold her in your memory
And begin to make the shadows disappear;

Yes let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart;

So let it start, my friend, let it start,
Let the love come rolling from your heart,
And when you need a light in the lonely nights,
Carry me like a fire in your heart,
Carry me like a fire in your heart..

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Tuesday, August 19, 2008

"You dream, right?"
"In my way."
"Do you like being alive?"
"Let's say I feel attached to it."
"Do you worry about dying?"
"Programmed to. There's a survival chip."
"Well, we're all programmed, don't you think? By our makers?"

Specimen Days - Michael Cunningham


____________
Long Distance Drunk

Three a.m. drunks, all over America, were staring at the walls, having finally given up. You didn't have to be a drunk to get hurt, to be zeroed out by a woman; but you could get hurt and become a drunk. You might think for a while, especially when you were young, that luck was with you, and sometimes it was. But there were all manner of averages and laws working that you knew nothing about, even as you imagined things were going well. Some night, some hot summer Thursday night, you became the drunk, you were out there alone in a cheap rented room, and no matter how many times you'd been out there before, it was no help, it was even worse because you had got to thinking you wouldn't have to face it again. All you could do was light another cigarette, pour another drink, check the peeling walls for lips and eyes. What men and women did to each other was beyond comprehension.


Hot Water Music - Charles Bukowski

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Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth -
Marty McConnell


what we do in the dark has no hands. no
crossover effect, no good-bye kiss after the alarm.
what we carry in, we carry out, end of story. this
doesn't even want to be love. except in minutes
when your face has the shape of my palm and I think
lungful. let want out with the cat. returns
and returns, something dutiful. persistent.
hold your breath, let it build, let go. this is practice.
I'm losing weight, a bad sign, I'm happy. serious,
you say. contained, I think. the cat comes back
with a dead bird to the doorstep, an offering. bloodless
this should be easy. a two-step to cowboys. you're beautiful
but that's not the point.

x

I know my way back perfectly well. like the back
of my hand, as it were. but look, the labyrinth walls
are high hedge and green. this also could be joy.

xx

I literally don't know your middle name. does that
matter? what systems we arrange for intimacy, small
disclosures like miniature bridges, your mouth. not
what I'd anticipated. softer. to begin with,
I should tell the truth more. I could miss you,
and that's a liability.

xxx

I am not often off-kilter. but you're so silent, even
naked, and almost absent. I hush too, why
are we here. go. want to throw things, you, the clock,
break windows until something bleeds and you finally
scream. I tell you too much; we are not
those people. or nothing--maybe I say
utilitarian fuck. how would that be. I want you
to want to fall in love with me and that's
unhealthy. wrong. leave your shoes by the door
and pretend it's about the movie. it's love
in the movies it's casablanca and toy story
and water no ice come here. pockets need
to be untucked, drawers thrown open,
nobody's safe. there, I've said it:
someone I was could have loved you.

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written by jia.

  ..so lately i have been in this stay-up-till 7am, ungrammatical, nostalgic, talk to myself. paranoid, insomniac, wide eyed, and a little intense. okie maybe little is an understatement. wish i knew if i wanted stability more than the complete range of emotions and melodrama. if only life could be summarized in one simple word...good or bad. -im too young to be stuck somewhere in the middle, sitting on a fence and whining about it. no, i cant write an intro for myself, hence i ask you to read the damn blog. maybe.. you'll find out more through my posts. n in the meanwhile take a panadol handy.. .

tell me you luv me..

Terror Alert Level -

Terror Alert Level

dynasty -

One crow sorrow
Two crows mirth
Three crows a joining
Four crows a birth
Five crows lucky
Six crows cold
Seven crows a secret
Never to be told

mantra -
 

- Lately...

 When I was a child
a story was told
about the devil
and a girl so bold.
He offered her riches,
a fortune of gold,
and lovers abound.
But she lifted her soul,
she lifted her soul clean.
Like the story was told
on a dark country road
the same man appeared to me...

But I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.

Now twenty years later
to the place I return where I scorned the angels
for a passion that burned.
There set in a tree
a knot twisted and turned,
the face of a creature Hell bound.
So long ago
could my mind've played jokes on me?
As darkness sets in,
unavoidable sin,
the truth I try not to believe....

That I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.

-by Azure Ray

 

ode to meaning..

_________________

One Tree Hill - New Zealand.
Dedicated to Xulfee Bhai, who chose to die in the Summer of 2003 Oct 7.

calm before the storm

_________________

Numb by Linkin Park

And i know
I may end up failing too
But i know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you..
I've become so Numb...I can't feel you there.

moon phase
 

calculated distractions

broken promises ..

said he: tum jaisay doosron say bhaagti ho aur chupati ho .. wohi mere saath bhi kiya....  "  

~*~  current mood ...

                 

coffee files...

'someone once said...

stains..