stray lash on the heart

the sads found me extremely tired and were a different flavour of lethal. I suppose the usual physical and mental defences were down and in they came, flooding space I don’t even really have at the moment. thing is, I was in the thick of a performance and the notes kept comin’ and I needed my brain to stay actively playing them, and as well as I could, [because breaking down in tears woulda been a bit inconvenient, lol]
but the sads don’t care. well, we had a pact of sorts, where they’d find me at the ends of days and sometimes I’d listen to what they have to reveal. most days though, I ran away to my current comfort show and beautiful playlists and you know, suddenly arranging everything in the kitchen. haha, isn’t it a little arrogant of me, though, to attempt to schedule the feels? I’m biding my time, partly, hoping for wisdom to deal with this situation, but also a part of me is hoping the universe can step in like a few moments ago – there was a stray lash in my eye, and I got it out on the first try!!

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come, night

I am not ready for the light of day to find me
I wish to lay with the night longer but it slipped through the door, left it ajar.
did it linger?
did it leave so hurriedly there was no time to completely shut it?

I’m left in the in-between, holding on to the memory, the feel of night, while day stands impatiently over me, tapping tapping at the door of my eyes.
why so loud?

why do you forsake me, night?
why do you depart from me so soon?
we had lots of stories to trade in the worlds we inhabit, just me and you. now I’m suspended in dance, when the steps were laid out for two, and yes, I can improvise, but I would really rather do it with you.

so, come night, stay with me a little longer

I need you,my friend

in the depths of my longings,
where I long to have someone bear witness to my heart,
I want to be unafraid to say:

I need you,
I need you, my friend

courage, heart

Dear heart and all my parts,
we’re questioning and we’re tired and bruised by the discontent of our current reality,
may sleep come with rest,
and if tomorrrow, we’re not a step closer to the answer(s),
may we find the courage to live the questions

🍃

day 30/30: sketches, improvising

there is definitely a satisfaction to seeing 30/30 (although if we’re talking numbers I just like 31 more, because prime numbers are more my jam) but yeah, it feels good. and also interesting to see this experiment end as it began. with an urge to do a thing, a nudge from my gut and my following it. on the way home I smelt fries somewhere and just like that I was craving fries. thought about it for a few minutes – the few minutes being my parts coming to agreement because I’d decided not to eat out too much this week, I even cooked! – the conclusion was yes to fries. this place in my hood makes the most amazing masala fries, the kind you start salivating about soon as you start thinking about them. I get there and the meat thingy (don’t know what it’s called – the thing where they have these huge chunks of raw meat on mega-skewers) on the outside is… not there. I check that I am in the right place and the inside is packed up too. my first thought,yo, has business been this bad? damn. I look around but I don’t see any sign, so soon as my pack of fries is brought, I ask the guy what’s going on. he shows me a sign somewhere near the entrance that I completely missed. it was so small and so high up almost like they were trying to have us not see it. ok, conspiracy theory moment, because why not. he says they’re moving to Kikuyu. tomorrow. wut. I immediately take pics, send to fellow diehards of this place, make calls sharing this distressing news! am I glad I gave in to my cravings today! I would have been so heartbroken to go find the place locked up days from now.
evening carries on, because time don care that there’s no more masala fries, and I want to watch Somebody feed Phil, out of curiosity, because in Visa’s book he mentions how the guy travels making friends and I wanted to see how he does it. but Netflix only have ssn 5 and it felt like too much work to leave Netflix and find it elsewhere so I scrolled through my list. ended up watching a docu/film on Miles Davis. yo.  I may not be able to coherently translate how all the threads are weaving themselves in me head right now but it was a whole experience! so, sketches (what I decided to title this series) then seeing the behind-the-scenes making of Miles Davis’ sketches, that moment when he’s playing with Prince (who was on my mind when all this began) the two of them being exceptional examples of those humans – flawed as fuck –  who just have this… singularity of purpose, like, there’s something bigger than the rest of us around them can fully see or comprehend – I think this is true of everyone, whether it’s to do with ambition or joy or depression or wherever we find meaning or whatever private battles we’re fighting- there’s always something(s) that no one else but you can fully comprehend… and… I lost my train of thought. lots to think about from that docu/film.
seeing his way of improvising, always moving with the times and all, is giving me ideas for this sketching business writing-wise and for music as well. there’s soooo much I could do with these words and I’ll let ’em show me. it’s been interesting not really planning what to write, only knowing that at some point before midnight I shall set the timer to 11 minutes and I’ll start typing. there’s a Stravinsky quote about creativity and constraints which, yes, I think has had its merit here, because the alternative would’ve been “I want to post something on my blog at some point” cue consistent agony.
so, while this worked well for posting on the blog, when I tried a similar version of this with poetry, ’em words gave me the middle finger. all like ‘we don’t move like that’ and I even started to resent poems, so I dropped that and of course with one unfinished project is birthed another one. and another one. ok, I don’t consider it unfinished, just, it needs a different approach. anyway, I’m sleepy and my hair is half done and I hope to really be a musician and a writer and a decent human while at it.
to more sketches! and improvising this life thing

day 29/30 – don’t trust a July sun

*excerpts

many years ago reverend Marion talked about how, the things I dislike about someone are likely the things I dislike about myself. and I have observed this to be true over time… probably works the same way for the things I like about other people. seeing it reflected back at me. being aware of it in me, so being able to recognise it in another.

don’t trust a July sun. especially the evening one that colours the tops of tall trees rose gold with a hint of grey, inviting you to come see, and watch your fingers turn to ice.

day 28/30: verdant, iridescent

verdant
green, growing
sounds like a pendant buried in the soil
but this one sprouts
and sends climbers to the wall of the garden
the leaves (and buds) at the tips acting as sentinels in the vanguard
peeking out to the verdant fields beyond
which they seek to become a part of
so they reach, reach, reach

iridescent
waves cascading on rainbow slides
colours dancing with the light
expert manoeuvres, like you’ve been here before
like you’ve danced this dance before
a feast for my eyes and spirit
camouflage and identity badge for you, simultaneously
the very thing that stands out about you is the very thing you use to hide

day 27/30: how to earn my own respect/life as jigsaw puzzle

how to earn my own respect – that’s what’s on my mind at the moment. I suppose this is one way to do it. keeping promises I made to myself. setting the timer for 11 minutes. writing as I promised myself I would, at the start of June. past 2 days haven’t been easy and I gave myself permission to rest. I’ll need to look at the people I respect. see what it is I respect about them. and play act at that in my own life maybe. another of my experiments.
thinking now about honouring even the small things. because I think that’s how I build up the ability to stay true to myself in the “big” moments, yeah? like a jigsaw puzzle. every tiny piece in place until the full picture emerges. I like the image of a jigsaw puzzle. where, if you zoom in,the individual piece doesn’t make sense by itself and also,it can feel overwhelming, to see so much detail up close. it feels abstract and like,it could go anywhere. then the decision of where to place it. being able to see the small piece and the full picture simultaneously. I would hope that the tiny pieces, the moving parts of my life align into something that makes sense. some kind of coherent narrative? is that even necessary… I’m not sure. but I feel like a kind of story emerging from all the different threads combining would be some… reassurance that it all makes sense somehow? that all this *waves hands* is worthwhile?
maybe I’m fixated on a piece that doesn’t even belong on the jigsaw puzzle of this timeline of my life and I may need to put it down for a bit and zoom out on the current picture, because maybe the piece I’m holding is from the past, or somehow – who knows – the future even.

day 25/30

the sads are heavier on my spirit today, so will dance/play with words another time

🍃

day 24/30: what, even, are ideal conditions?

a conversation I have with myself often is to not wait for the ideal conditions to do something. sometimes it happens several times a day. like this zine I was sooo excited to get the other day. then since it got here, I’ve been waiting for an evening when there’s nothing else going on and I can get all cosy to read it slowly, you know, savour every sentence with a warm cup of (most likely) cinammon-flavoured drinking chocolate in my hands, wrapped up in the softer of my 2 kikois. it’s a beautiful image in my mind, the conditions for reading this zine. because it feels like something that shouldn’t be squashed in between other life things and read in a hurry. but it hasn’t happened yet. the reality is more like, I’m up and about in the evening and by the time I get home,  all I want to do is sleep, or I have a lot to prepare for the next day, or am just too tired to concentrate on reading so I watch something light or listen to something instead or the sads have found me and I can’t do much else or or or…there’s always something that makes the evening feel like less of an ideal one, and so I postpone it. then today I had the conversation with myself again in the morning. and moved it from the to-read pile and to my bag, so I could read it during commute time. well, my mind was all over the place and I kind of forgot that it was there, so I didn’t even start. but I guess it’s a step? in any case, what, even are ideal conditions? life is always happening in between… everything. I’m curious – what’s this fantastical place my mind imagines exists, while reality marches on, unrelenting, all messy, sometimes according to plan but all the time feels like improv. so why, then, does this place exist in my mind? is it the buffer against all the chaos? escapism? fear dressed as perfectionism maybe. fear of messing up, making me not start on many many things. or the fear being a justification after I have decided against doing the thing because facing up to myself through the work feels overwhelming because of stuff I might have to change or uncomfortable things I have to confront, so my brain goes like, let’s dive here into the fear pool. wheeeeeee.I’m sleepy and almost drifting off so I don’t know if this will make sense the next time I see these words. this started with thoughts on a zine and now I feel like I accidentally kicked a ball of wool (that was under my feet all along) and it’s unfurling and rolling away faster than I can keep up