a to do list after death

I took a minority literature course this semester and in one of the accounts that I was reading I found this funny and touching "to do list" after the writer dies, so thought would put it up. By the way the writer is gay and he is leaving these instructions for his partner:


1. Play Stevie Wonder’s “As” when
they’re wheeling my casket out. No
Cher, Celine Dion or Pet Shop Boys.

2. Cremate me; it’s cheaper. Do NOT
invite your friends, Treat and Jed, to
the reception. They drink too much
and they’re always cruising for a
three-way.

3. I want my corpse in a traditional
barong. Pick the one with the
geometric patterns not the ornate
lacy one that looks like cheap
lingerie.

4. Send my unpublished work to bigtime
publishers. DO NOT go with a
no-name biographer!

5. Fall in love again but not too soon or
I’ll Blair Witch your ass! When you
find the right guy, hold on to him.
Keep our rings in a safe place.

an unfinished unformed entry

there is a wall of pillows behind me
trying to hold up my sagging spirit
it has been a total unfruitful day
and i am tired sad and dissatisfied
like an old spinster aunt

my eyes are burning from the inside
coz they want to sleep
and yet my work was not finished
its a very narrow view of life
through half slit eyes
i think i cant write anything creative today so i will
leave this blog as it is now
and go to sleep hoping i can get up in the morning and finish off my work.

Old Wrinkled and Caged

What an irony, caged by men and caged by her shell too. One she cant escape the other actually for her own protection.

tired and wanting to let go

I found this pic while browsing the net. She is made up of such vivid colors and yet have you ever seen such tired eyes? I never knew that a bird's eyes could be so expressive, it totally took my eyes off her brilliant plumage. Another reason why red may not always signify zest for life.

Cerulean Wrath

I have been unusually angry since the day before yesterday. For two days now I am actually waking up angry in the morning. And this picture of Bjork kind of expresses what I feel.

I didnt want red in the picture cause that seems to symbolize an anger which flares up and then dies down in sometime again. My anger seems to be icy cold and festering like blue. They say blue is the color of depression, but I guess its different for me.




P.S: This will totally spoil the mood of this piece but I really liked the title I chose - all it means is Blue Anger but calling it Cerulean Wrath kind of gives the image of a 'serene fury', if that oxymoron makes any sense that is! But I guess you can understad what I mean.

In answer to ma's blog

i sit at a desolate desk
with coffee drunk eyes around me
i await summer days
when i can feel
the sweat trickle down my back
when memories of a dank city
can come back to me
i remember ur teto shukto and posto
patla dal seems delectable
much more precious than subs and pizzzas
i see dreams of tandooris drenched in their red glow
and i wait to smell the fresh lemon
the lime water which soothes body soul and mind
perhaps i miss the utter negativity of that city
it used to make me feel alive
it is sometimes nice to feel the utter exhaustion
that my city could bring to me
even more precious was returning home
to your pampering hands
it would feel nice to come back now to someone
perhaps to the romance that you share
hopefully someday ur girl will find it too
the romance of a city and a guy.