searching posted by imani , Thursday, March 26, 2009 at 9:53 PM, in Labels: freefall

I am writing this using my sister’s posh laptop, inside my room, on my study table and surrounded by all my books – so yeah, this sort of makes me feel like I am a serious writer at work. Ahahah.

I still cannot sleep. I have ceaselessly looked for ways to entertain myself and exhaust my eyes but they just won’t give up…so this is the result – I have been up for at least 15 hours and my energy is inexorable.

On my last post, I mentioned that I have not been writing because I haven’t found the cause to sit down, contemplate and drive the keyboard mad. This is my attempt. So what do I want to talk about? Okay. Since I am sleepless, as the case is whenever I have work, which is weird because the very thing I need to properly function (I hope that does not make me sound or look like a keyboard function) is sleep – just imagine what sleep deprivation makes of me when I am at the office. I want to blabber about – the things that I do when I am not able to get a wink. No, I am done with counting sheeps and what have you – these days I am more ‘pragmatic’ in the sense that I make it a point I gain something out of whatever activity I devote my precious should-be ‘sleep hours’ to.

• I watch TV. I watch TV after maybe eating 2 plateful of rice – I have recently just signed up to be part of the social research to prove that eating and watching TV leads to more and more kids suffering from obesity. I was totally kidding. As my family and closest friends would attest – I am steadily at 100 lbs no matter what I do or what I eat.
• I cover my books. There are about 30 or 40 books (oh my God!) that I have not read – but no, I sometimes chose to cover the books I’ve got instead. Weird but true. Don’t worry. Things are just about to get weirder.
• I rearrange my books on the shelves. One point I tried to arrange them by author. Then I arranged them by genre. Now I am bored and I want to arrange them by color.
• What else – I clean my room. No need to expound, I suppose.
• I pick up the dictionary and look for at least 5 words – words that I am not familiar with and I plan to use in conversations during social gatherings. Today, I was able to get these 5 words:
  a. Silicosis – a lung disease caused by the inhaling of silica particles
  b. Insouciant – free from worry or concern
  c. Dinky – small and unimpressive
  d. Gyp – a swindle or a cheat
  e. Coon – racoon

Having mentioned all those words, now I am doubting my capacity to carry a good conversation at parties or dinner time. I mean, how the hell can I inject the word ‘silicosis’ without eliciting a projectile vomit from the person I am speaking with?

• Count my pens and my journals. If I have enough ‘inspiration,’ I also write a poem.
• Just look at my books or my movie collection – for a good 5 or 10 minutes. They just lay there, staring back at me.
• Desire to paint (watercolor). One time I had the impulse to paint only to find out that I ran out of watercolor paper.
• Drink coffee. Iced coffee. I know. It’s this sick little peculiarity exclusive to the women in our family. We like drinking cold coffee. As in instant coffee, sugar (whatever is available – if I have to go through one afternoon using Splenda then so be it), water and ice cubes. Then I chug away.
• Talk to my nephew about asteroids and how the asteroids created dents on the face of the moon, and how the asteroids could sometimes be bigger than the Philippines and how, if they’d hit us, we’d all be doomed to extinction. The last bit made my nephew’s eyes water. After which, I didn’t know how to take what I just said back so I flipped to a different page and discussed Neil Armstrong.

These are just some of the stupid things I do when I am without you, Mine. The world, my room, my bed is harsh and unforgiving when you are not around. I hope for nothing but to hold your face, kiss your hand, say I love you and tell you that your arms are my refuge.

written march 26, 2009

one more shot posted by imani , Wednesday, March 25, 2009 at 3:08 PM, in Labels: something else

had we remained
together
we could have
become
a
silence.

~yehuda amichai

here's for some fire!!! posted by imani , at 3:06 PM, in Labels: something else

we have been all
the hapless lovers
in this
wayward world
in almost all kinds
of ways
except we never
really meet
but for this kind of
burning.

ophelia a. dimalanta's 'a kind of burning'

i know posted by imani , at 3:00 PM, in Labels: freefall

i have been away far too long. i haven't been able to blog much. it's not all about work. a matter of fact - it's all because of me - because i do not feel the urge to write, the 'furor' is not there.

and i am terrified.

(sounds like a postsecret confession).

looking forward to more 'lucid' days.

spellbound | poem twenty posted by imani , at 2:51 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

when the quake
and the storm
are halted by your
breath

when the leaves
and the flowers
are created by your
laughter

when the light
and the dark
are inspired by your
presence

my sunrises and
my sunsets are
halted, created
and inspired
by you.

spellbound | poem nineteen posted by imani , at 2:50 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

my fingers are burning
my lips are scorching
this is the time
to bribe my mouth
with yours
the moment to
pull me closer
as you defy
gravity,
as you alter nature,
as you move infinitely
across
the plains of my
body,
as you dance
wildly in the
corner of my eye.

spellbound | poem eighteen posted by imani , at 2:50 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

ignition and explosion
of the fire between us
of the flames that
find its way through
your veins
thunder and lightning
fireworks and stars
teardrops and cries
i lie in unending
desire to be held by
you and be wanted
like i never have
and in your arms
i lie
perfectly still.

spellbound | poem seventeen posted by imani , at 2:49 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

a gleam of moonlight
a streak of intensity
inexorable and streaming,
dragging my body
to the prison of your
embrace
my soul drinks from
the flowering gaze
of your smile,
my heart leaps from
the abyss to lastly
tough the hours
chained in melancholy
and yearning
to be with you again.

spellbound | poem sixteen posted by imani , at 2:48 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

gazing into the night
the forlorn and weary
unmasked
that is i, for i do not
ever want to be
without you ~
my cradle, my haven,
my sanctuary
my sheath of warmth
and my forgiveness
as the intrepid lace
of the moon vanquish
the light
i look at you and into you
and know that i am
home.

happy 27th, mine posted by imani , Saturday, March 7, 2009 at 2:04 PM, in Labels: something else

The Man Who Can't Be Moved
The Script

Going Back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag I'm not gonna move
Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand
saying, "if you see this girl can you tell her where I am"

Some people try to hand me money, they don't understand
I'm not broke
I'm just a broken hearted man
I know it makes no sense but what else can I do
How can I move on when I'm still in love with you

Cause if one day you wake up and find your missing me
and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinkin maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you'll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street
So I'm not moving, I'm not moving

Policeman says, "son you can't stay here"
I said, "there's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year"
Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows
If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go

Cause if one day you wake up and find your missing me
and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinkin maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you'll see me waiting for you on our corner of the street
So I'm not moving, I'm not moving, I'm not moving, I'm not moving

People talk about the guy that's waiting on a girl
There are no holes in his shoes but a big hole in his world

Maybe i'll get famous as the man who can't be moved
Maybe you wont mean to but you'll see me on the news
And you'll come running to the cornercuase you'll know it's just for you
Im the man who can't be moved

Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag I'm not gonna move

spellbound | poem fifteen posted by imani , Thursday, March 5, 2009 at 7:13 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

when the pink horizon
traces the memories
i left on a cup of
coffee filled with
reveries and wonders
of you
i sit in amazement
of the love that i hold
still in my hands
while this heart of mine
surrenders every beat
and breath to you ~
its cause and its reason.

spellbound | poem fourteen posted by imani , at 7:12 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

as the image of you
gets shattered in the distance
i hold on to the promises
we have uttered and
the love we have spoken of
and i know i am taken
to that same path where
your feet treads on now,
as your tears cast happiness
on each rock and stone
your humanity touches,
for they bring me closer
to you even when we are
apart.

spellbound | poem thirteen posted by imani , at 7:12 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

the fibers of my body
yearning only to be
covered by the dew
from your mouth
the thread of my life
and faith craving only to be
enwrapped by your
patience and desire
as the days hasten to
the reality of our dreams
you can rest your belief
in my love unshaken
by nights and mornings
without you.

spellbound | poem twelve posted by imani , at 7:11 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

unraveling your
wonder and
beginnings with
the peculiar ardor
of my fingers
where ~ layer by layer
petals unfold
to reveal the light
and tears of your
unending fire
finally seizing
the blackness from
my forlorn and arid
earth
making me yours.

spellbound | poem eleven posted by imani , at 7:09 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

there is so much more
to us than just
silence and a song
there is
the heedless desire
for me to fasten
your heart to mine,
to not let you escape
from my embrace,
to envelop your soul
with my kisses,
to enwrap your
body with my understanding,
to give you all i possibly
could ~
now and always.

in case of a writer's block posted by imani , Tuesday, March 3, 2009 at 8:05 PM, in Labels: something else

THIRTEEN WRITING PROMPTS
BY DAN WIENCEK

1. Write a scene showing a man and a woman arguing over the man's friendship with a former girlfriend. Do not mention the girlfriend, the man, the woman, or the argument.

2. Write a short scene set at a lake, with trees and shit. Throw some birds in there, too.

3. Choose your favorite historical figure and imagine if he/she had been led to greatness by the promptings of an invisible imp living behind his or her right ear. Write a story from the point of view of this creature. Where did it come from? What are its goals? Use research to make your story as accurate as possible.

4. Write a story that ends with the following sentence: Debra brushed the sand from her blouse, took a last, wistful look at the now putrefying horse, and stepped into the hot-air balloon.

5. A wasp called the tarantula hawk reproduces by paralyzing tarantulas and laying its eggs into their bodies. When the larvae hatch, they devour the still living spider from the inside out. Isn't that fucked up? Write a short story about how fucked up that is.

6. Imagine if your favorite character from 19th-century fiction had been born without thumbs. Then write a short story about them winning the lottery.

7. Write a story that begins with a man throwing handfuls of $100 bills from a speeding car, and ends with a young girl urinating into a tin bucket.

8. A husband and wife are meeting in a restaurant to finalize the terms of their impending divorce. Write the scene from the point of view of a bus boy snorting cocaine in the restroom.

9. Think of the most important secret your best friend has ever entrusted you with. Write a story in which you reveal it to everyone. Write it again from the point of view of your friend. Does she want to kill you? How does she imagine doing it? Would she use a gun, or something crueler and more savage, like a baseball bat with nails in it?

10. Popular music is often a good source of writing inspiration. Rewrite BobDylan's "Visions of Johanna" as a play.

11. Write a short scene in which one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching him or speaking.

12. Your main character finds a box of scorched human hair. Whose is it? Howdid it get there?

13. A man has a terrifying dream in which he is being sawn in half. He wakes to find himself in the Indian Ocean, naked and clinging to a door; a hotel keycard is clenched in his teeth. Write what happens next.