Relationships are a constant tug of war. When there's love, you manage to pull the other person to your side/become like you and in the absence of love, the rope breaks apart.
or like Guardian explains
http://apps.facebook.com/theguardian/lifeandstyle/2011/nov/20/love-animals-anglerfish-gender-human?fb_ref=U-zNA68_zIX97t40d9I3dLFP-CFCONX01FRS-33e8xXXX,U-ZdGbZvFy977l4jqCJwWFol-CFCONX01FRS-33e8xXXX,U-UMRkQTyQSggI4aAeKz5Wwa-CFCONX01FRS-33e8xXXX,U-c4408cab79f9d3ff14444c-CFCONX01FRS-33daeXXX,U-DYOmpiiJRc7n4JUxIPqqZJ-CFCONX01FRS-33daeXXX&fb_source=other_multiline&fb_action_types=news.reads
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Professor Hobkins was last seen humming, what may aptly be called as the most melancholic rendition of Its --now or-- never, at the brink of the dusk in the memory of his late wife. Margarette died of an unidentified heart condition two years ago. Her death continues to haunt the medical fraternity. She had a remarkably healthy lifestyle for a woman of 50. She drank sensibly, allowing herself not more than two glasses of wine on festivals and birthdays. At 48, she quietly slipped into menopause. Although her delicate waist and firm bosoms offered a different narrative that seem to defy her age. The only medical leave she took in her life was during a wisdom-tooth extraction in the pulp of her university days.
She was taken to hospital after complaining of breathlessness caused by a series of vertigo. The doctors found her test-reports normal but admitted her for a night, as a precautionary measure.She fell asleep in the usual way, curling up to the paper-back edition of Kafka's Trial. Hobkins dozed off in the waiting lounge on Margrette's persistence. She did not wake up next morning even though her heart was beating. The nurse attending to her reported her heartbeat getting fainter by the hour. The doctors were left clueless, she showed no response to medicines--she passed away at 5.45 in the evening. In the exceedingly mysterious circumstances that led to her death, Hobkins insisted doctors to perform an autopsy on her dead body. They found all her vital organs undamaged, except her heart had shrunk to the size of a keyhole. Hobkins twitched in disbelief, it was the most animated he ever got.
he had begun to detest an excessive show of emotions. Margarette joked about his hormones responding to the contemporary nano technology.over the years, he became restrained but not entirely unaffectionate. Once in a while, he would leave her a couplet or two discreetly in her book under the pillow. Subtlety was always the essence of their romance. Back in college,they would exchange notes on Marx's Das Kapital with love-marks designed to look like Egyptian Hieroglyphs.
"You're lovelier than Bach's symphony, Margaritta..Only If i could plant you along with geraniums in my backyard, I would stare at you from my window, all day and all night".
The last time they made love was 14 months before Margarette's first vertigo attack. The last time she shared the same bed was ten weeks before her death. Three months ago, Margarette baked him cheesecake hoping for an intensive night of love-making, just like old times. Instead, Hobkins refused to eat the cheesecake on the pretext of having tooth-ache. Few days later, Margarette found a note in her book that read
"Passion must not be allowed to collect like winter-snow on the roads to our academic paths".
Hobkins did not shed a single tear when Margarette passed away. His friends found him turning severely cold and lifeless like an unattended wound resigned to nature's healing (or may be not). Isolated from the world, Hobkins wrote furiously the next two years after Margarette's death. Not a word of poetry though. he earned himself unparalleled respect in the department of Physics at Maxwell Academy as a scholar. Its now or never were the last words that came out of his mouth before he fell on the ground and collapsed. He was declared dead due to an unidentified heart condition.
She was taken to hospital after complaining of breathlessness caused by a series of vertigo. The doctors found her test-reports normal but admitted her for a night, as a precautionary measure.She fell asleep in the usual way, curling up to the paper-back edition of Kafka's Trial. Hobkins dozed off in the waiting lounge on Margrette's persistence. She did not wake up next morning even though her heart was beating. The nurse attending to her reported her heartbeat getting fainter by the hour. The doctors were left clueless, she showed no response to medicines--she passed away at 5.45 in the evening. In the exceedingly mysterious circumstances that led to her death, Hobkins insisted doctors to perform an autopsy on her dead body. They found all her vital organs undamaged, except her heart had shrunk to the size of a keyhole. Hobkins twitched in disbelief, it was the most animated he ever got.
he had begun to detest an excessive show of emotions. Margarette joked about his hormones responding to the contemporary nano technology.over the years, he became restrained but not entirely unaffectionate. Once in a while, he would leave her a couplet or two discreetly in her book under the pillow. Subtlety was always the essence of their romance. Back in college,they would exchange notes on Marx's Das Kapital with love-marks designed to look like Egyptian Hieroglyphs.
"You're lovelier than Bach's symphony, Margaritta..Only If i could plant you along with geraniums in my backyard, I would stare at you from my window, all day and all night".
The last time they made love was 14 months before Margarette's first vertigo attack. The last time she shared the same bed was ten weeks before her death. Three months ago, Margarette baked him cheesecake hoping for an intensive night of love-making, just like old times. Instead, Hobkins refused to eat the cheesecake on the pretext of having tooth-ache. Few days later, Margarette found a note in her book that read
"Passion must not be allowed to collect like winter-snow on the roads to our academic paths".
Hobkins did not shed a single tear when Margarette passed away. His friends found him turning severely cold and lifeless like an unattended wound resigned to nature's healing (or may be not). Isolated from the world, Hobkins wrote furiously the next two years after Margarette's death. Not a word of poetry though. he earned himself unparalleled respect in the department of Physics at Maxwell Academy as a scholar. Its now or never were the last words that came out of his mouth before he fell on the ground and collapsed. He was declared dead due to an unidentified heart condition.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Holy Sonnet X
by John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!
by John Donne
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Feel Good Inc part 2
Pollock's action-painting. Pollock, the film works effectively to understand the method to madness in his drips, even though the film is abound with stereotypes.
Laura Marling's My manic and I. The lyrics just mirror the McCarthyism i exhibit towards an increasingly growing population of insecure people around.
Aesthetics (Thierry De Vue, Griselda Pollock, Prof Blackmore(this is a sobriquet for someone i closely know)
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, The subtitle goes like this “This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones. But instead, it’s about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old.”
Daydreaming by Dark Dark Dark
A stray cat I recently made a pass at and for once he responded positively by not scampering away after being patted
Woody Allen's prose- A one-act play on paper
Sheldon's wisecrack: "“A neutron walks into a bar and asks how much for a drink. The bartender replies, ‘For you, no charge.’”
Andy, April, Ron Swanson, Leslie knopp from Parks and Recreation-admiration in an ever-changing order.
My version of OccupyWallStreet- Occupyparkinglot in the vehicle clogged city of ours.
Most importantly a room of my own in JNU but that's better off as a subject for another post.
Laura Marling's My manic and I. The lyrics just mirror the McCarthyism i exhibit towards an increasingly growing population of insecure people around.
Aesthetics (Thierry De Vue, Griselda Pollock, Prof Blackmore(this is a sobriquet for someone i closely know)
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, The subtitle goes like this “This is a story about a mother, two daughters, and two dogs. This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising kids than Western ones. But instead, it’s about a bitter clash of cultures, a fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen-year-old.”
Daydreaming by Dark Dark Dark
A stray cat I recently made a pass at and for once he responded positively by not scampering away after being patted
Woody Allen's prose- A one-act play on paper
Sheldon's wisecrack: "“A neutron walks into a bar and asks how much for a drink. The bartender replies, ‘For you, no charge.’”
Andy, April, Ron Swanson, Leslie knopp from Parks and Recreation-admiration in an ever-changing order.
My version of OccupyWallStreet- Occupyparkinglot in the vehicle clogged city of ours.
Most importantly a room of my own in JNU but that's better off as a subject for another post.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
pink spring
Dressed like the new bride,
your coy, saccharine breath
walks gently on the aisle of my arms,
cooing a lullaby-
to pacify the passionate night of storm
"Sleep, my precious"-
Words sprout and wilt,
and fade into the music of your breath
More tender than a kiss,
I call it my own diva of the dawn
your coy, saccharine breath
walks gently on the aisle of my arms,
cooing a lullaby-
to pacify the passionate night of storm
"Sleep, my precious"-
Words sprout and wilt,
and fade into the music of your breath
More tender than a kiss,
I call it my own diva of the dawn
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