He cheated on his wife. The same wife that cooked apple pies and taught children at the blind school, telling them how beautifully they had painted the walls of the playground.
He hated himself for the cheating, for the fact that she lied, for he saw Rorschach inkblot’s wherever he looked.
But he couldn't commit suicide because he couldn't write a suicide note. It was the most frustrating writers’ block he had ever faced. If justifying your death wasn't humiliating enough, justifying it with random words strung together in unsophisticated pettiness was.
He thought of Africa. A thousand children must be crying from hunger pangs right now. This very moment, a lioness of the Golden Pride is singling out the weakest among the herd of grazing zebras. This instant, a shipwrecked sailor lost at sea is sending out a message in a bottle asking unconvinced for help.
The tragedy had ended.
He went back to living.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Creaking City Breaking Bonds #2
So then there was in this world, him and her and the scurrying mice in the fields.
And the cat who was so disinterested in mice. This urbane cat roamed the rooftops instead. Taking in the fresh air, enjoying the view of the city spread out till the horizon, reveling in the smog clad sky and the darkness of the starless night. And the more-ness of food it implied.
Flat roofs, gabled roofs, domed roof, steeple roofs and then aah.…finally, a chimney. Chimney after chimney padded the cat with the broken tail. Some smelled of smelted iron, of burning sulfur, of incinerated secrets and finally, the orange broth that the old guard cooked each night.
The cat slithered down the chimney and fell on the old man’s lap. How he avoided falling into the curry was a secret he would never tale he would never tell.
That left him with eight and a half lives; he counted the one time he had gone to say hello to the Pekingese next doors. She had looked so much like his once upon a time lady cat.
And the cat who was so disinterested in mice. This urbane cat roamed the rooftops instead. Taking in the fresh air, enjoying the view of the city spread out till the horizon, reveling in the smog clad sky and the darkness of the starless night. And the more-ness of food it implied.
Flat roofs, gabled roofs, domed roof, steeple roofs and then aah.…finally, a chimney. Chimney after chimney padded the cat with the broken tail. Some smelled of smelted iron, of burning sulfur, of incinerated secrets and finally, the orange broth that the old guard cooked each night.
The cat slithered down the chimney and fell on the old man’s lap. How he avoided falling into the curry was a secret he would never tale he would never tell.
That left him with eight and a half lives; he counted the one time he had gone to say hello to the Pekingese next doors. She had looked so much like his once upon a time lady cat.
Creaking City Breaking Bonds #1
He was thirty eight and he had never met a girl before. And when he met her, he realized how natural that was. She was rosy as a bushel of apples and smelt of a garden in full blossom. Her hair was an unharnessed mess of sunset brown and it seemed to catch the warmth and redness of the setting sun in its tangled waves at dusk. Her teens had passed and the jeans had frayed and she seemed caught up somewhere in time between 22 and 25.Poised for the leap, faltering in the eyes.
It was that time of the year when the harvest had been reaped, when the sand seemed still too damp to sit in, when a dive into the ocean sent a nervous chill down your spine.
It was that time of the year when the harvest had been reaped and all that lay in the bare fields was the scurry of the rats after the last of the grains, the hay stacks. Neat, neglected.
It made you wish you could set fire to them. It made you think that the world would turn in its slumber and give u a lazy smile in gratitude if you did.
So he decided, set fire he would.
It was that time of the year when the harvest had been reaped, when the sand seemed still too damp to sit in, when a dive into the ocean sent a nervous chill down your spine.
It was that time of the year when the harvest had been reaped and all that lay in the bare fields was the scurry of the rats after the last of the grains, the hay stacks. Neat, neglected.
It made you wish you could set fire to them. It made you think that the world would turn in its slumber and give u a lazy smile in gratitude if you did.
So he decided, set fire he would.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Things to Do to Your Cat When He Sleeps
Begin by counting his whiskers. Bonus points if your cat has whiskers in prime numbers.
You can always take advantage of his slumber to sever the 14th whisker otherwise.
Fold back his ears and see how long they stay folded before flapping back to original shape.
Stroke cat and marvel at all the bruises, wounds, scratches you find, and all the possibilities of what your ninja cat might be up to when you r not looking. Thank God you don’t know.
Make squeaky sounds and see if they transfer into your cat’s dream as mice.
If cat starts lashing his tail in his sleep, it is working.
After a while hold the cat’s tail firmly in position and stop the lashing. This in turn will stop his dreaming.
Check out the padded feet of cat and tickle the pink softness. Watch him squirm.
Nudge cat gently and try in vain to push him off your pillow, because its 4 in the morning and you need some sleep.
Give up.
Try using cat’s belly as a pillow.
Hear him purr with pleasure while trying to gouge your eyes out with his claws at the same time.
Give up again.
Fall asleep with your head on the hard mattress, sighing with satisfaction and love for cat.
**if you manage to keep giving cat a tummy rub with one hand while performing above maneuvers, he might just give u a head bump on the morning. Do not get your hopes up. He also might not.
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You can always take advantage of his slumber to sever the 14th whisker otherwise.
Fold back his ears and see how long they stay folded before flapping back to original shape.
Stroke cat and marvel at all the bruises, wounds, scratches you find, and all the possibilities of what your ninja cat might be up to when you r not looking. Thank God you don’t know.
Make squeaky sounds and see if they transfer into your cat’s dream as mice.
If cat starts lashing his tail in his sleep, it is working.
After a while hold the cat’s tail firmly in position and stop the lashing. This in turn will stop his dreaming.
Check out the padded feet of cat and tickle the pink softness. Watch him squirm.
Nudge cat gently and try in vain to push him off your pillow, because its 4 in the morning and you need some sleep.
Give up.
Try using cat’s belly as a pillow.
Hear him purr with pleasure while trying to gouge your eyes out with his claws at the same time.
Give up again.
Fall asleep with your head on the hard mattress, sighing with satisfaction and love for cat.
**if you manage to keep giving cat a tummy rub with one hand while performing above maneuvers, he might just give u a head bump on the morning. Do not get your hopes up. He also might not.
.jpg)
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