One harsh night...

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

The night is too harsh on me. There is no moon here in the city. All around are products of Edison’s genius brain. Deceiving light of technology that doesn’t even cure the dreadful backache I am gaining from my hard bed. It makes sleeping elusive.

-----I should turn them off. They make me think the night is young.

-----I couldn’t sleep. As much as I close my eyes tight, my brain goes wild inside my skull.

-----I should get up.

-----And my back ached.

-----Maybe I should get myself some new pillows.

-----Lately, I’m having a hard time sleeping. My bed (which I had for four years already) is becoming uncomfortable. I assume that if I’ll have some of those smooth and extra soft pillows I saw last weekend in the department store, my sleeping would be back to normal. That is called pampering I guess.

Times like this, my head travels faster than the speed of light. I think about poetry, places, people, possibilities, power, and etcetera etcetera etcetera.How’s Jay? He must be lonely in Italy. Or maybe he is enjoying museum hopping in his free time and eating Italian spaghetti. I haven’t heard from him. Vera, Liyo, Russ, and Chai haven’t shared any stories of communication from Jay for a long time already. I miss him.

Chai is dancing for her dreams (as she wrote in her blog) in front of big people (figuratively, and literally perhaps).Russ is losing much of his weight, and it makes me worry.

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Vera is busy with her work but still has time to open pages of books and hear some soulful music to listen to.Liyo is happy with July. I just hope things with family are fine now.

-------In a table of steaming coffee somewhere in this city, 6 people used to share tales, while ignoring the darkness outside the café and the thinning ride home. Vera and Jay talk about writers and books and sometimes love and relationships of people they know. Russ and Chai talk about art and performances and sometimes family and existence. Liyo contributes every now and then to the two sets of conversations. I, on the other hand is often have my eyes cast on the cup of something (iced coffee/iced tea/milk) while I stir it until there is none to dissolve. I have my ears fixed on the conversations while I have images on my head like a movie. When something catches my attention that is the time I shall talk.

--------I love them all. I love even the ugliest part of them. I have come to love them entirely. Maybe because they respect my silence, the priceless silence. And they understand my tendencies.Sometimes I think, I could never find a better set of friends. They’re just perfect for me. They balance me.My head’s getting heavy, and I’m slouching unusually. My bed is still uncomfortable as I looked at it, still there is no moon outside my window but at least my brain is finally behaving inside my skull.

-----I should go back to bed with my old pillows.-----I wonder why EE Cummings, Elizabeth Bishop, and Pablo Neruda have poems on kittens and cats…