I can feel the distance getting close

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So last night I watched the final episode of HBO’s Insecure,  more than a month after it aired. It took me that long because I was avoiding how sad I knew it would make me. Funny that I chose to watch it just as I was sinking into my latest bout of depression . Hmm …

I guess I just wanted some distraction, and I’d already read so many episode recaps that I was ready for what was coming.

And, actually, it turned out OK. Sure, I cried, but I didn’t take it personally, the way I did Season 1’s final scene, blearghh.

What will happen in Season 3? Will Issa, Lawrence and Molly continue being the complete idiots they’ve always been? To be honest, their messy lives are why I love the series so much. Another nine months to go, but the most alarming thing is just how quickly they will pass.

(P.S. I hope I never see Aparna again. Nope. Do. Not. Like. The. Woman.)

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As if my life were shaven

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It Was Not Death

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down—
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos—crawl—
Nor Fire—for just my Marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool—

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial,
Reminded me, of mine—

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some –

When everything that ticked—has stopped—
And Space stares—all around—
Or Grisly frosts—first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground—

But, most, like Chaos—Stopless—cool—
Without a Chance, or Spar—
Or even a Report of Land—
To justify—Despair.

~ Emily Dickinson

The Present Never Ends


Song of a Manhattan Suicide Addict 

By Yayoi  Kusama
Swallow antidepressants and it will be all gone
Tear down the gate of hallucination. 

Amidst the agony of flowers, the present never ends

At the stairs of heaven my heart expires in their tenderness. 

Calling from the sky, doubtless, transparent in its shade of blue

Embraced with the shadow of illusion

Cumulonimbi arise. 

Sounds of tears

Shed upon eating the colour of cotton rose

I become a stone 

Not in time eternal

But in the present that transpires. 

(A video installation at the Yayoi Kusama exhibition, National Gallery, Singapore.)

Review: Sad Girls by Lang Leav

sadThis review was first published in The Star on 9th July, 2017

Sad Girls: A Novel

Author: Lang Leav

Publisher: Andrews McMeel Publishing, 362 pages

‘Your first love isn’t the first person you give your heart to – it’s the first one who breaks it.’

That line, on the cover flap of Lang Leav’s debut novel Sad Girls, is a quote from the book, but also a prose poem (from Leav’s collection Lullabies).Read More »

Don’t

  • Do not have sex with your friends. No matter how lonely you feel.
  • Do not think someone is your friend just because they say they are.
  • Do not allow yourself to feel comforted if a man texts you often and is keen on meeting you. (Chances are you haven’t slept with him and are still a novelty.)
  • Do not be surprised if a man stops texting and wanting to meet after he’s slept with you.
  • Do not be impressed if a man continues to text you after he’s slept with you. Especially if he texts less than he used to before the sex.
  • Do not expect any man with whom you’re having casual sex to take you seriously when you say you are busy because of family and work commitments.
  • Do not choose to give someone you’ve known for ‘five minutes’ the benefit of doubt. There is a 99.99% chance that you will be disappointed.
  • Do not assume that you will know these things just because you’re over forty and a mother.