We have about seventy-two hours before the first or thereabouts. I hope then, I’ll have nothing else to blog or to say … the words most exchange with others, for me at least, are usually translated digitally — We’re in a digital world aren’t we?
I rarely speak since I live in an igloo.
Have you tried speaking in the cold?
I wish the weather in Asia is colder — I’m not indifferent or sarcastic, enough apparently. Anything below say eighteen would be perfect, for at least a week or two, a year or eleven. Whoever comes here, like my sister or mum when they have something to tell me or whatever …yes, I have selective attention and hearing — rubbish about the quotidian drama of the absurd are usually parsed faster and recycled before the next sentence escapes to the mind.
That part ought to be at least, unadulterated. There, I find bliss.
And when I’m in that state, the world forgets itself, and love, yes love, makes everything pristine clear. I don’t let any thing to enter the non-thingness … neither Paris, work, nor the world. If you happen to be part of it, the world I meant and you’re there instead of here beside and within me, then you too are not found in the euphories which I treasure like gold.
This is my only wealth, that I bring with me wherever I go, when I go.
And when I do step out into the world, a prayer or two is uttered — Prayers are often misconstrued as necromancy by those who don’t pray for the world, for themselves or for others. I don’t have the need to, but there’s so much pain in the world isn’t it, that sometimes, its thoughtfulness, to consider the happiness of others’. I don’t have to. I’m not human enough for humans and their nature.
We’ll be leaving soon. I dread the idea although a week earlier had we left, would have been perfect; but I have had too much on the plate lately, that I’d rather not leave, and staying in the jungle would be just comforting. At least its quiet here … you can hear the fauna busy glorifying the seconds of the in-time.
Next week ought to better … I’d have to psyche myself and descend from there. The children would be contented. It’s really not simple to grant attention to two growing boys — not mine. Especially when they’re hyperactive. But they’re such darlings, I pray they’d grow up to be compassionate men.
I have also stopped listening to the radio … there’s too much comment dirais-je … sciolism? Everyone is revolting against something — affection, the government, the taxes, the utilities price hike, the wars, the grèves, the politics, and the Korean sitcoms. In Asia, it used to be Bollywood or some Hindustani love-drenched movies that keep friends, people closer and tighter in the frenzies of life.
Does the Sun demand the Moon proof of Love … the celestial dance is effortless […]
Me, I just watch. I observe. I jot down ideas, sometimes re-look into my papers for the Foundation. I know what needs done, but it takes time and our Network are working on that. Had it been a business affair, it would have been a faster venture. I would be there in a blink, and you needn’t have to ask me that question, and you needn’t have to wait although the Sun takes its time to rise. I’ll arrive soonest everything is completed. If you’ve made your first billion, you’d know how difficult it is to get that done unless you’re a Politician with a fabulous sexual appetite.
If you can’t wait, or dislike the idea of waiting in vain, please … help yourself to all the other flowers in the bouquet or the park. Do friends get into bed with each other? Only strangers I hear.
As much as most talk of freedom, one is still a slave to something. The slavery that the Messengers, the prophets, and God Spoke of, must obviously, at least in my understanding, be that of the mind. Sure, one can live in the head cent pour-cent, but there’s a world outside and that world too needs as much attention as those in the head. If only life would be easier I hear you say — you wouldn’t need that really, for things to be easier … you were designed to be warriors, at least of Love.
Such a stimulating idea, isn’t it? To be warriors. Not bombs-strapped-jihadists. Would you rather, the vestales instead? Heaven and Hell have already collided mon chèr, and if you can’t find either, the Virgins are so not going to extend their hands to light up your life! — So its best to forget the idea of being saved when Love is impinged.
I have been wanting to sleep and not wake up — to brush my legs together, to feel the softness, and its passion of touching themselves … such pleasure to just feel oneself de temps en temps; to just sleep on the Asian queen designed for one and not even bother with who’s fashioned a new hornet do, or spot the latest Dior.
I have been on my own for as long as I can remember, that we’d need a bigger bed to just curl up, and cuddle. Cuddling is good or you can live in your mind and live a life, hermetic and we don’t have to touch each other. Besides, my body goes where the heart is — you should know best. I’m faithful on all planes. I’m fortunately not a whore. There’s so much more to life than to be on the back twenty-four twenty-four or to play with so many, but I can imagine the picture of such a life. It’s rarely a choice for most who do.
People invent lies, and play games. They have nothing else better to do other than slowly drowning in such tragedies. But I’m not writing of others. Love is not a game and why should one’s past still govern what goodness there is in the moment? There’s only you in my life besides Mummy, and if you want me in yours’, you have to be true to at least, your heart.