tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59566515220983413812024-03-08T04:51:10.903-08:00Chalo, then.Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-22013104065291493512013-01-25T01:37:00.002-08:002013-01-25T01:39:43.326-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Wall-E effect:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The pang of guilt you feel when you let go of something obsolete, but essential to what you were, once.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Walkmans</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Your mother's ABBA cassettes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bata rain shoes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Camlin watercolours</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Clinic Plus shampoo</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-1353821902414150962012-08-13T10:08:00.004-07:002012-08-13T10:09:04.850-07:00Still.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The inability to go through today without the aftertaste of yesterday in your mouth and the uneasy panic for tomorrow in your gut.<br /><br />The inability to feel a simple emotion with regard to someone, instead weaving sticky webs of guilt and memory and irritation and bone-deep affection.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The inability to put a thought into words, sentences running off, cutting short, forming a spliced train that winds through desolate landscape, pretending that it has a destination. Imagining someone waiting at the platform, ears straining, heart pounding.</span></div>
Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-79067333708576171332012-02-10T11:32:00.000-08:002012-02-10T11:32:16.418-08:00The truth<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">was like a sword. My skin would have parted at its touch. It would have let it through to reach my veins and muscles. I lifted it high and gazed at my blurry reflection with my blurry eyes in its gleaming surface. My clothes were no barrier and this I knew well. My stomach would swallow this also, as it had swallowed dirt and tears; for as long as I could remember I had swallowed nothing but fear, and it never occurred to me I could fight it instead. </div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-65713448597930409852011-04-26T08:30:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:30:20.048-07:00Simple Simon Says<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: NewYork;"></span><br />
<div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm thinking back to the days of waking up feeling short of breath and <em>afraid. </em></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thinking back to Doe, steadying my warm, trembling hands with her cool, capable ones and telling me that whatever was outside would stay outside.That we'd done our penance. That we were allowed to be happy. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I remember not being able to tell her that the outside didn't matter to me. That the lick of panic down my spine was the fear of what was inside - inside her, inside Silver, inside me, what engraved pattern of history, genetics and destiny we might carry inside us, inescapable, endlessly repeating.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ave Caesar, te morituri salutant.</span></div></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-69538197856131746402011-04-19T11:33:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:34:08.820-07:00You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are the person I write my notes to.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">You are Requiem and her tumor,</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> You are Dollface and her cancer.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are the metal I taste when I bite through my lip, You are the talc on my grandmother’s handkerchiefs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are the reason I count things twice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are luminescent in your def</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="_GoBack"></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">eat, You are the dull ache in my spine.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You are the labored breath of my mother’s asthmatic lungs, You are the years of dust on my father’s old loves.</span></div></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-28301881783226332062011-04-18T08:50:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:37:00.814-07:00listen.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I find him sitting in the corner of the garden. The same corner I'd sit in, and and count the hairs that came away with every slide of my fingers across my scalp. My hair's thick now, all honeysuckle - scented and windblown, and my brother is all sharp cheekbones and curled lip.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I don't...", I start to say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He reaches out his hand (his long, narrow hand, so unlike my wide palms and short fingers) and touches my face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I'd forgottten what you sound like." he said.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-37943381244117204332011-04-17T01:28:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:38:23.285-07:00No, the sun does not shine.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hate waking up before 7.30. I do not feel re-freshed and 'ready to face the day'. Listening to birds chatter is a completely pointless exercise. There is no such thing as getting up on the right side of the bed. When I'm up early, my neck hurts, everything is blurry and I have this unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something's just plain wrong. That's my cue to think "there is no spoon" and "there is no morning commute". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Today I've washed my hands so often I've halved a brand new bar of soap and my palms are tender. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sometimes I want to go back to the days when my biggest fear was Kevin and Kenneth calling me Aloma Paloma Drunkard Clown. And then I remember what it was really like in those days, being an awkward, bug-eyed kid who always said the wrong thing. Then again I still say all the wrong things. The difference is that now I don't even try to say the right things. Not always.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-84715784943200803452011-03-18T00:34:00.000-07:002011-04-26T12:42:51.919-07:00Things I like not<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not realising I'm out of balance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Egg yolks</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My feet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Apples</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mustard</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Missing trains</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Public bathrooms</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Feeling so hungry you're nauseous</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Low marks (yes, I geek)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fungus</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dentists</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">People using 'fag' as an insult</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Me using 'fag' as an insult</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Flu</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Buses</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">John Le Carre</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Feeling tongue tied</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Funerals</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Names like Paul or Jackson</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-13110113510769657892011-03-17T04:23:00.001-07:002011-04-26T12:43:06.243-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">No, I will not be coming out to play.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-16574227223202178772011-02-19T06:31:00.000-08:002011-04-26T12:44:06.525-07:00Gah<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm tired. Not whiny, I don't want to clean my room tired but a kind of tiredness that's filling the hollow spaces in my bones with lead. Times like these, I rewind over every insignificant detail or decision that's gotten me here. Like deconstructing a game of chess. Only, in reality, I can't separate the black from white and put everything in their own, neat squares. So I make rose tea, listen to The National and eat apricots</span>.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-21725462421452850762011-02-16T07:32:00.000-08:002011-04-26T12:44:31.343-07:00Odd = me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was strolling along today, when I suddenly realised I don't quite know what to do with my arms. I tried swinging them all briskly like the women in those exercise videos broadcast on TLC at the oddest hours, but it felt super- weird, like telling people that you love your grandmother when you really couldn't give less of a shit weird. Stopping, I tried to let them sway naturally to the dulcet sound of 'Start a War', causing the not-so-high-powered business type behind me to snarl, "junkie" and stalk (rather unsteadily) ahead of me in her Bandra Blahniks. Bitch. Folding my arms across my chest was the next P.O.A, but it was too, "I am emo, watch me bleed." Also, I found myself unable to walk in a straight line which made me sad in all kinds of non- shallow ways. Jamming my hands into my pockets (I love pockets. More than my grandmother even), made me look faux cool. I was cool with being faux cool, so I bought my oranges.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-78106372287038249342011-02-15T09:17:00.001-08:002011-04-26T12:44:48.683-07:00Today<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">something brilliant happened to an acquaintance,and I was happy for her.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-91625745732866523822011-02-15T08:09:00.000-08:002011-04-26T12:45:10.860-07:00Happiness is<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">buying cotton pants</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">a month passing without me getting tired of people</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">having a new, favourite band</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">freshly laundered sheets</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">last minute plans going beautifully</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">someone rubbing my shoulders</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">mint milk chocolate ice cream</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the colour indigo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the walk from Colaba to VT</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">steak</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">sitting near a window in a train and listening to Sweet Disposition</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">not being asked for my i.d.</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">receiving mail</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">after eights</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">sloppy firsts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">cabs.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-11376989196002232172011-02-14T04:13:00.000-08:002011-04-26T12:45:46.371-07:00Where the good people are<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I miss having good people. People who call me for shits and giggles and not for hey-wassup-how's your headache-can you please give me information that will take the shitfest that is my project and elevate it to mediocrity- and if you don't you're a horrible human being who deserves to be badmouthed to the extent that you begin wondering whether it's worth attempting to be honest in the first place? OKTHANKS.</span></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5956651522098341381.post-83827863308079603712011-02-10T10:04:00.000-08:002011-04-26T12:46:26.986-07:00I try<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Will it be loud?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like your car backfiring or</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dropping a stack of plates onto linoleum?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We’re oddly quiet. All of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After hours and days and weeks spent in that smoke filled room, playing Mr. Jones on loop. After doing our best to feed our cravings that twisted, writhed and palpated. Begging, begging. Today we air out the room and close the blinds and sit on the ground among the ashes and coffee stains on your mother’s hideous carpet. If anyone knocks on the door, we fall silent and sit still, until they go away.</span></div></div>Alomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17060823402016299094noreply@blogger.com1