Catharsis

“Oh! You should look at this” she says as she waves her newfound book in her arms.

He looks up at her distractedly, himself engrossed in something very deep and meaningful. For him, at least.

“Don’t you like this?” she asks enthusiastically.

No, no. He couldn’t be bothered right now. He was already under a lot of pressure. No, he couldn’t look up to enjoy the small things that life has to offer. Everything else was insignificant compared to what he was facing.

She looks disappointed at his lukewarm response, but she doesn’t say anything. She understood. She had to be understanding.

“So, would you like to go to the Beer Fest this evening?” she tries once more.

Beat of silence. It stretches. It gets uncomfortable. She tries to not look crestfallen, but tears were welling up in her eyes.

“Well, wouldn’t you at least tell me something? I’d like to know.” Finally summoning the courage to confront him.

“Look..” he says, without being able to make eye contact with her, “I just need some time. Please don’t ask me these questions.”

“Alright,” she approaches cautiously, “I don’t want to be prying, but..I’d just like to know. That’s all.”

He gets up from the park bench and walks away into the sunset. She watches him as he walks away and disappears into the evening. With every step of his hunched demeanour, she could see her life slipping away. Of what life she thought might be with him. She could see it all falling apart, but really couldn’t do anything about it. She waits till the disappointment settles down in her heart. The sun sets into the evening, gradually. Until it gets quite dark and she suddenly takes note of her surroundings.

My god, it is quite late, she thinks to herself. With a sigh, she picks herself up and prepares to leave for the life that does await her. To the welcoming arms of daily routine. At least, these things need me, she thinks to herself as she walks away into the twinkling night of the city.

Dirty in My Head

Oh we have a casual conversation alright,

But you don’t know what I’m thinking in my head.

“So how is work?” you ask,

“Pretty good”, I reply.

But do you know, that I’m undressing

You, in my head?

Sure we discuss family irritations.

“I feel like getting out of home”, you say.

“Oh I agree!!” I reply.

But do you know, that I’m wondering

What your skin feels like underneath

That shirt that smells like a dream?

You say, “Last night I got high.”

I say, “Wow, for me its been some time”.

But do you know, I think all the while

What it’d be like, when we’re high?

We discuss something boring

Like free gold coins for marketing.

Then the occasional, accidental brush of your hands

Against my knees, and there is electricity

Shooting through me.

Sure we keep it tame –

You simple John, and me plain Jane.

But there are these dirty thoughts

In my head.

Oh I want to wrestle you alright.

Just prove my might.

Lets play this match alright?

Till death shall we tough it out and

Fight?

Lets see how far we get.

Coz I have these dirty, dirty

Thoughts in my head.

Frequency

Come let’s bounce along,

The same frequency.

Let me know you

For a while longer,

So that I read,

Your thought patterns.

The familiarity of it all,

Let’s enjoy the comfort,

Of each other’s,

Frequency.

Come let’s explore,

New dimensions,

Through each other’s,

Thought patterns.

Let’s see the same light,

The same colours;

Let’s hear the same words,

The same sounds;

Let’s understand,

The same meaning,

In each other’s,

Frequency.

Suck on my finger tips...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4fyk5IThAs



Her Space Holiday. For the kinky side in us.

A Bird in the Hand is worth two in the Bush

For starters, you might be wondering what kind of a bush I'm talking about right? No, no. Not that one. This one is quite tame.

There was Emily Wayne who liked candies. She already had a box of dark chocolate. It was good. Very good, in fact. But after a while, she got bored of it. That is about the time when she came across another box of dark chocolate. This one is different from the previous one because it has rum filling and spices in it. Much later she was gifted milk chocolate. Oh god, the pleasure and agony of them all! Which one must she choose?

So she went chose the first thing that was accessible. The milk chocolate. So God got angry with her and punished her for being greedy and made her fat!!

End of story.

Quoting Amardeep Singh Hunjan: "Someone truly said, 'I don't want to leave a place where I'm having a good time for a place where I "expect" to have a better time' "

Truer words haven't been spoken.

Of Untrained Glances

"Glancing the other way, when you see something beautiful. Looking away when something inspires you. The pain of such beauty. Can you not bear it?"

Pause. As he looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"I entice you, don't I?" That is quite fascinating", she said, looking over the rim of her coffee cup as she drank her brew.

She was indeed quite fascinated. It amused her to see the way he behaved around her. The way he'd not notice her. Purposely refuse to acknowledge her. The way he'd glance at her from the corner of his eyes to see if she was laughing at his jokes.

"Hah! You're quite vain, are you not?", he said derisively. "My, my. The amount of beating that humungous ego must be taking everyday. How come you haven't committed suicide yet? I'm sure you have at least suicidal thoughts?"

She looked away, still unruffled. In fact, with what was disturbingly to him (and so it seemed to her) a self-satisfied smug expression.

"Fine, shall we go riding?" she said, quite abruptly.

"What?" He was quite nonplussed.

And before he could say anything else, she said, "Come! Lets go horse riding! Its been so long and I love horses!" Off, she skipped across the main road, crowded with traffic, pedestrians and coffee tables.

It was a pleasantly sunny afternoon. The heat would have been unbearable, if not for the shady road. The trees swaying to the rhythm of their own music, generating a soft breeze. He was left wondering. Again. Probably for the gazzillionth time. What is she?

Here, keep with thee all these

Dispensable tokens of Affection.

I give them to thou, my love

To remember me by, when need be.

Of fleeting, ethereal moments,

That might not stand the test of time.

Those whimsical fantasies,

We wove together.

Keep them with thee

To remember the pain

That absence creates.

Carry them wherever thou wants,

So that I can see.

But then. I must tell thou this,

I wouldn't really care

For all thy antics,

That amusing pass time for me

Something I commiserate over,

To shake my head in pity.

Move on my love, move on.

I don't really need thee.

What have

You and I shared?

Can you remember,

All of them

Memories.

Sometimes, at night

I awake to

Dreams of us and wonder

- Did that just happen?

To only realise

It did...

An Ode to My Day Dreams

I sit in a grey room. With tall walls. Walls so tall, that I can’t feel the ceiling. But I know it exists. I look outside the window, with intricate vine-like designs, when I see a vision of a long neck. It seems almost vulnerable. I don’t know why, considering it belongs to a guy who seems to have a bull-neck. Then I get images of him. Of what we might do, were we in the same place. I can feel this music playing in the background – Fadeaway, Porcupine Tree – when I’m haunted by flashes of his picture in my mind.

* * *

We walk along the sea shore. Hand-in-hand. Feeling the electro-magnetic current passing between us. When two people are attracted to each other, there is always a flow of such currents between the two individuals. It gets stronger with each passing moment. It is this electro-magnetic vibration that leads to telepathy between the two individuals. They read the meaning of life, deeply in each others’ eyes, for whatever a fleeting moment. To feel a sense of the soul’s satisfaction, if only for that pause of a moment in eternity’s now.

We sit on a rock, as the waves wash against our feet, watching the sun set. It is a lonely spot, with swooping sea gulls for company. I sit behind and above him, while he rests between my legs as I get these images of him and me. Of how vulnerable he is. I found that so attractive once upon a time, to only start thinking otherwise. I remember the music we’ve played together. Or at least the memory of the music that plays in my head every time I see him. That quiet, passive observation with which I’d like to gaze at him in a crowded room, with bustling activities, as I gaze at him, I’m like the eye of a storm or a calm oasis. Then we have a connection, when everything else stops for us, as time slows down to finally falter and stop moving. We have only us. A connection of our eyes. The pull of the gaze is strong and palpable as we feel a thread pulling us together in a hypnotic rush. But we resist the urge, increasing the headiness of the feeling, before we finally open our senses to the world outside, the bustling activities, as we leave the calm oasis – our space – to enter the busy world outside with its whirlwind activities.

* * *

Going Slow...

The importance of going slow is never emphasized too much in our lives. I am a slow person. I have been so since I was a child. Somewhere I still have retained those qualities. I have, of course, learnt to “speeden” things up. But I am still much slower compared to a lot of other people in my life.

I don’t think I have ever “cursed” myself or felt bad about being slow. In fact, somewhere it has always been my sub-conscious desire to be slow. Things feel so much better when it is done slowly. Food digests better when you chew it thoroughly, take your time and eat it slow. You savour it much better and land up over eating much lesser.

There is nothing as luxurious as a long, languorous and a slow bath. It is like you have all the time in the world to engage in an activity that you really enjoy doing. The refreshing and satisfied feeling one gets after having one of such luxurious baths is quite incomparable.

Slow, melodious music can be so soothing. A slow book allows you time to dwell on all the finer, sentimental aspects of day-to-day, mundane activities. It brings out the special side of everything that we tend to take for granted or overlook in our rushed lives. A slow growth.

And of course slow love-making… Can there be anything as wondrous as that? You take the time to drink in every special aspect of your lover’s skin, his/her expressions, their tiny mannerisms, the mole they have in an area that may not see much sunlight. The touch you feel from their skin. The way they taste, smell, feel... Their warmth. Those slow, long, languorous kisses. The thing that makes you lose sense of time and place. Can you feel that any other way than when going slow?

One other experience that is incomparable is excreting slooooowly. Wow, the experience that is. Take your time when in the loo. It is even better if you’re naked, you’re in the loo – it is a hot summers day and there is a bucket of pleasantly chill water next to you. You’re hot and humid inside, pouring a mug full of the chill water on your head, feeling completely the way the water moves over your body as you slowly excrete. My, my – such incomparable pleasure!

I’m sorry the above paragraph might be slightly unpalatable to some. But one must not shy from all sorts of experiences in life. If we just let our senses take over and slow things down, the high one feels is very different. A lot of beautiful and things worth having happen slowly or take time to make. If we can just learn to stop being impatient and just sink in and enjoy the process, things are so much better.

The depth of understanding you get of a person when you know them slowly, is an experience all by itself. It helps you remember a lot of special memories and trust easier (oh, it is sooo important!)

So, if you’re slow, don’t feel bad about it. Celebrate it instead! And if you have a tendency to do things quickly or expect things to be done quickly, then unhook, look around and go slow because…the quick can be tripped up by the quiescent.

Just for You.

I’d like to know

That deep, dark chocolate

Side of you.

Let me have a lick -

A taste, that’d

Drive me wild.

The scent of your

Musky thoughts.

Such an intoxication.

Down through the dangerous lane

Of your dark imagination.

Guide me through areas,

Unimagined.

Exploring me,

Exploring you.

Feel my love,

My special form of love.

Just for you.

Strange Love

Check out: http://www.actionext.com/names_k/koop_lyrics/strange_love.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBldVJnzdnM&NR=1

A song with special significance. A Pluto-Venus relationship. Something that I've been obsessing over for quite a while now. It describes perfectly how such a relationship should be. The sort of love that ensues between Hades and Persephone. Hades is the pursuer, the dangerous one, pursuing the innocent Persephone. He carries her off to the underworld. Even though Persephone resists, struggles and runs away from him, deeper reading of the myth suggests that Persephone loved being chased. The sexual attraction she could feel for him was that much more heightened because of the chase. The kind of power one could have over the other - a theme which plays out every time Pluto is involved in the relationship. In this case, Pluto's intensity is the prime attraction for Venus. Venus may get swept away in Pluto's frenzied form of love. But there is that destructive, dark side in Venus that loves such a tryst. It may or may not last. Often, such frenzied, passionate love doesn't last for long. Maybe between the two lovers, or the lovers themselves may part ways due to the potentially destructive nature of the relationship. But, the fear of the destruction is the intoxicant, which leads the lovers down the road of this dark, intense relationship. Trouble's what you bring, strange love.

A few of my favourite things...

I don’t know how to start this. But it is one of the most exquisite feelings that I’ve felt in a long time. I know all of us have our special little fetishes. The very things that make us go vroom vroom vrrrroooom!! This is something I’ve never played. In fact, there is nothing special about a thumb fight. It is something that we play as kids, to show off the skills of our digits. But then it is strange how the very games we play as kids – the innocent, fun things – take on a different hue when you’re playing it as a much older version of you. A much older version of you, with all the necessary sexual awareness; an equally playful and experimental partner; a tiny bit of alcohol, or loads of it in your system (depends on the physical capacity/BMI); mutual sexual attraction; some privacy (or at least some alone-time together, if not anything else); and the mental tease. Aah, the pleasure of it all. So sinful. So, so sinful.

It is about the way the thumbs move against each other. A teasing caress. A replication of a sexual dance that can otherwise be done by the two individuals. But this is done at a table, and with a person you don’t know very well. Almost the only thing you’re sure about the person is the mutual sexual tension that seems to be sparkling between the two. And then, there are the looks across the table. Very, very suggestive looks, every time the fingers do something naughty. Naughty in the heads of the two. The anticipation of what might be. But not reaching it as such. So, so sinful. Also, such an art!

Then again there is the fight-for-control form of expression of physical attraction. It is a truly different high, having to fight for the love that you want to feel. Oh yes. It kills. But it is this very death that increases the allure of the final submission to the senses. The feeling of having a sexual predator. The intoxication of being chased. This goes well with a saying I came across a long while back, about the nature of men and women in romantic relationships – “A man desires a woman. A woman desires a man’s desire for the woman”. When I think of it now, I feel truer words have not been spoken.