reprised

it's true. it's better to be struggling than claiming to be one.

she would be there with her gang of girls or other kids whom she managed like a pro. jumping over little mounds of grass and stones... or swinging the kids to her pace. aliyeh was spunky. she could talk to any one. and her head of wild curls tamed everyone but her hair. not that she gave a damn i think. the rest of the kids hung around her like groupies except for one truculent boy who refused to even jig to a guitar finely strung to cash's ring of fire. she was wild and i feared for her. for her free, vulnerable spirit. vulnerable to the frustrations of a cynical world of egos and desperate sexualities. i got drunk, sat by a weely smoke and cried like a baby, and my man never forgot my moment of darkness. such is this heart that sees more than it should.

dreamed of chipped, black heeled slipons and old dames, while a friend drew sepia-vintage images of devika rani getting out of leons on commercial street with heavy make-up on. made me wonder about the dance bars and what happened to those women who lost their sugar daddies to grey hair and wrinkles.
the ban on dance bars seems a bit ridiculous. this trade will always exist and has always done so...
ban on dance floors? bangalore's urban space is crowded with partiers and most now have to think twice abt shakin their legs to music. even while sitting at their table. there shd be enough spaces for all types of people.
11:30 pm closure on nightlife is still a party pooper. but after long, am thinking it makes sense. this is a city of not only the young and hip wanting to party the night away. it is a city of anxious parents, wives and children. while there cant be a one thing that caters to all, the 11:30 ban just pushes people to continue partying within the safe confines of their homes. works.

diablo cody - finally, someone in hollywood worth listening to...

her writing is belligerently symbolic. reminds me of finnyforever. here's some bits from cody's blog -
"This city-- this city's heart was torn out a couple of years ago. It was drowned, defiled, vivisected. But I can tell you that God still lives here. I walked the streets yesterday evening and I felt it where I always feel it, in the bark of my bones, in the wing-nuts of my ankles. That curious lifting."

"wing-nuts & bark of my bones" - lightening strikes my nether regions every time i read that. ok, i sound like a dumb fan. whatever. it's orgasmic even if i wanted to skin her.

sometimes one thinks one has never owned anything
most times there's anger so intense, its there all the time
always there's the yearning to be loved, like one dreams of
and deep within is a sadness that nothing can erase

------
fiction

when did anger rule my heart at all times? why is constant feeling of being shortchanged? even the slightest slight is taken to heart & analyzed for meanings that never existed. such is this sour life...