my music

I sat on the beach…east of where I sit now and stared. As luck would have it , for as far as the eye could see, the beach was all mine. Armed with my little i-pod and a coconut in my hand, I set forth to recreate the image that had been lingering in my psyche for far too long. The perfect spot wasn’t too difficult to find either. In the soft sand, under a long, tall, bushy coconut tree, I planted my better half, threw my slippers off and let Shangri-La take over. With my i-pod playing songs selected for just the occasion I set out to lose or find myself, whichever my soul thought best. But something wasn’t right. Something was out of tune. That’s when I realized that the there was a noise that spoiled the rhythm. It was out of place and alien and it hurt the music. I unplugged my I-pod and put it in my pocket. The sound of the crashing waves was now clear and the music was just beautiful.

mildew

Sleeping a little longer, not because I want to…because I shouldn’t.

The front seat…

Copying…

Its easier than I make it seem…

Hoping you’ll pay…

I did understand….I chose not to…

I removed four from this list I don’t want you to know…

of anger and hate

There is a part of you that is hidden, not just from the outside but from yourself too.
It worrys me to see it at times and one wonders what is to be done when it is seen. It weakens the soul, buried further or set free

i donno..

Why did I just post something I know no one’s going to read.
....as if anyone’s going to read the rest of the stuff iv written...
...and im typing to myself in public now.

ponderings of inconsequence

The basic principle of writing, a writer of some repute once said, was to write what you know about. That as it turns out proves to be disastrous for this would be writer, for if adhered to would barely result in a few pages, if not paragraphs. Hence I write this with a clear confession of knowing nothing about the subject.
A river of change flows through our lives, washing away what was once new but now old, redundant or as my generation would put it uncool. I use the term change as none judgmentally as possible. A debate on the pros and cons of change is something I do not want to get into. Nor do I intend to make it the focus of this passage, for far too much has been written about change. Perhaps it would be prudent to not write of change but instead write of a certain slice of time. Ours.
We live in a strange time and place. A time, when not belonging is an identity in itself, a place where borders are defined, more by wires of telecommunication than barbed ones. As all generations have, ours, struggles with the how’s and why’s of life and its consequences. Some define life as a struggle; some call it suffering .Most have definitions of their own and perhaps they are the most well off. Relationships, some new, some as old as life itself, still need to be defined and quantified. But that’s only human. It would be a lie if it were said that much of what troubles our soul is new. Confusion on where we are heading, and how we intend to get there remains but until we do I suggest we enjoy the journey.

the thing i do

Why do I keep cribbing about my work? I don’t hate it. Guess its become natural to crib about the thing I do…
school,
college and now ..
work ….but I guess we all need something to crib bout .
(and yes I enjoyed school and the few days of college that I attended….just don’t tell anyone )
Just got a msg from my boss…my dead line’s on Monday ….that’s his way of telling me he wants me to come on the weekend .Hahah...Poor fellow…he’s got a lot to learn. My coffee’s gone cold….…and bitter.c u monday..

missed pictures

7 ‘O’ Clock. I make my way to the parking lot. Just another software engineer, just another software company. I’m reminded of pictures of the industrial revolution. Scores of employees making their way home, their bodies confused by the mixed messages of fatigue and relief. A low sound of footsteps, on the edge of breaking into a run, fills the air. There’s a silence too strong to be broken. The formal shirts and ties are a good disguise …until they stop mattering.
In the distance, far above us the sun says his good bye’s to the clouds. Like a relaxed old man, he takes his time. An explosion of red and orange in the heavens .A sudden urge to watch it all comes over me... but I can’t, for I might miss the bus. Like I miss the bigger picture.

frost again

Where am I going? Am I going or am I being taken.

There a poem on my wall above my bed… “The road not taken by Robert Frost” . Beds, houses and pillows have changed…the poems been there for close to 10 years now.

“and somewhere ages and ages hence
I shall be saying this with a sigh,
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I took the one less traveled by
And that made all the difference….”

It gave me hope once…now it looks like a warning.

..a lil

Its Friday… Friday afternoon. A few more hours and the weekend begins. If I had a tail I’d run around trying to catch it…perhaps pee a lil in the process……never mind.

dragonfly day

I need to go sit on a field and watch the dragonflies. I wonder what my boss would say if he caught me writing this on company time. I’m heading home soon…like in an hour or something. Put on that tired sad look…like iv been working much harder than everyone else. Damn...the things I got to do to look busy.