http://www.anniezaidi.com/

i'm furious and i'm in tears and i'm helpless and i don't really know what i'm feeling anymore and then i'm furious again. i want to lash out at someone, i want to see one indian politician speaking from that which none of them seem to have. i want to stop writing facebook status after status and deleting it and writing again and deleting again and feeling like a wimp because that's all i can do. i want to blame somebody and i want to stop wanting to blame anybody. i want to take a bath or at least wash my face. i want to remember what it was like to eat without wondering whether those men have eaten, have chai without wondering if they have water. i want to remember when i got up and cooked dinner and ate it and what i did in two nights in the spaces that are blank now, the spaces between watching tv and calling friends. i want to do something other than watch watch watch watch watch and watch and watch and doze off and fumble out of bed and run for the remote and half-wish it were all a dream and then hope it's over by now. i want to stop feeling and i want to feel something. i want to stop fantasizing that i'll find out that nothing happened and i want to stop getting on the internet for more watching and i want to not remember staring out at the chilly quiet 4 am dark outside my balcony, seeing a school girl in sports uniform walking on the street with a hockey stick and i want to not believe the numb shock at being surprised at the sight of that little girl, that i was asking myself who let her out alone and how long will we be able to walk out at any time we want, come home any time we want, i want to not believe that i was shuddering at the rumbling of a lone vehicle cruising my street in the wounded pre-dawn silence. i want to pretend that n and i didn't look at each other in alarm at that sound, that i didn't want to scream don't open the window when he started to, that i didn't believe him when he said it was just an idling motor in the garage under our building, that i didn't expect heart-breakingly young boys to jump out and bomb my building. i want to remember what day it is today it's thursday isn't it or friday? i want to pretend that nobody saw me as i stood in my balcony looking at my city, yesterday defined by and today destroyed by the sea, i want to pretend that nobody saw me looking at it like i was taking a last look at my limb about to be amputated, nobody saw me break into tears and shiver again and again and again and again and again even as the azaan and the church bells together screamed out a question to every tired god.

what fun!

just when i learnt to walk straight
i learnt that life is a spiral staircase.

of course i've come to terms with it.
i just need to figure out
what i've come to terms with.

last year i fell asleep during an 11 pm show of the zodiac. last week i fell asleep during burn after reading. and the hunting party. at 9 pm.

i used to love the rides on A's kinetic. i'd put my head way back and see the trees and sky race by upside down. feel the wind go straight to the head through the ears (not much substance so it's a short route). yesterday i was on the highway and was scared of the bikes racing by. what if they tip over sideways?

i used to cut up my t-shirts and wear the first thing my fist found. today i change clothes at least five times before i leave home.

i used to jump nonstop through where the streets have no name. now i'm mostly panting and directionless by the time i see the dust cloud disappear without a trace.

i used to wonder where to go on a friday night. and with whom. today i can't wait to get home. and i know to whom.

i used to be young. and i'm proud to have survived.

whatever you thought life was
it's just that
till you think elsewise
and then that's just what it is

are you where you are because you want to escape
or because you refuse to be rescued?

mindblowing

http://www.scripttease.tv/

deja vu

feb 2005

i wrote you something did you get it? you were out. i left it at your door.

yeah i got it listen you need to stop writing to me ok?

why.

because it freaks me out.

why.

should i show them to you? i got them all i'll show them to you. you just have to stop writing to me ok? it really freaks me out.

if they freak you out why do you still have all of them?

i don't know? just. stop. are we ok?

ya. we're ok. cool.



feb 2007

you read it?

what?

the blog? you read it?

yeah i did, i'm not that good at hindi so i didn't like get all of it. but whatever i got was nice. did you read mine?

oh. ok. ya i read yours. some of it is sweet. a lot of it is gross.

heh. who's blog is it? that other one you made me read?

mine.

you write in hindi?

also. it's for you. did you get that? hello?

oh. i. didn't get that actually.

well it is. for you. i started a blog for you. about us.

that's. sweet really. heh.

nobody knows about it ok? i've not done this. not in some years. written to someone that is.

the english stuff is also very nice.

it's the truth. sometimes it's nice, the truth.

march 2007

that's that you know and then you're writing about us it's just you know

a lot of pressure? it doesn't have to be. it's not some eternal promise or obligation to commit. you said some scary things that night i don't know if you remember. about falling in love with me and marrying me and stuff. we knew each other for what half a night and half a crate? it freaked me out but i kinda let it slide you know.

it doesn't feel right. i'm not sure and

i'm not either. big deal. anyway if that's your decision then that's the decision. i guess.

it's not my decision. i'm just not sure. about you.

i get it.


july 2007

i wrote to two boyfriends before you and both were uncomfortable.

so what did they do?

they ran. i've sent you an invitation to a blog.

what blog?

you know this is a big risk i'm taking.

you started a blog for me?

you can write in it too. no one else can.

i want to read it. now.

it's 1 am.

we'll go to my office.

we're half an hour away.

wear your seat belt.

you're running. already. this is a record.

it must be. you're running with me.

you read. i'll lock myself in the loo. if you leave i'll take a cab.

**********

you're still here.

those two boyfriends?

ya.

who you wrote to and were uncomfortable?

ya.

who ran?

ya.

i want to thank them.

um hmm.

ya.

there's this gnarling eye tracing a twisted cloud.
it's been a long wait for it's not rained in three decades.
not a drop from the sky.
not one from the eye.

and what can you give me back
if i agree to forgive you?

what is the point at which one knows there is no point?

is it the time you feel let down? is it the time you feel like giving it back? is it the time you want to just take all the hurt till someone asks you why? i personally think it is the time you feel nothing. when you are no longer surprised at what is happening, but left with a few bursts of raised eyebrows here and there, you know just at the way it's happening. when you don't want to get back but sit back. watch how far and how low it's gonna go. how much farther the thread will drag before you hear the spool rattle. it's the time you withdraw and surrender, glad your silence it is not heard anymore. when you don't love. when you don't hate. when you just shrug and smile. when you notice for the first time how the red sign at the door lights up when the movie is about to end. when you wonder if it was always lit and you were too distracted by the screen to notice it. that's the point to get up and go.

what can be more private than grief

it quietly steals into your eyes and
grows goosebumps on the underside of your skin.
you can do nothing but
stare at nothing
while it shreds your sanity
whips it up into foamy dementia
cracks your voice chords
so even your silence will rasp
breaks your spirit into
little orphaned slices of darkness
that will grope you
inside and out.
it consumes you
and makes intimate rustles
in the tosses and turns of your bed.
and you can never talk
share or explain
because every word is
a scissor that cuts your tongue off
and leaves you alone
with only echoes of snipsnipsnip
and sharp shadows to choke on.

how fine are you really
and who are you thanking
when you say
i'm fine thank you?

i am still
where i was
where we were
and someday you will turn around
and see that i
am not waiting anymore

look what i found!

http://anthony-bourdain-blog.travelchannel.com/