Friday, August 27, 2010

midnight tales

i am writing this tonight because i miss you. like crazy. thinking and thinking about how to make this better. and i can't forget that evening. when i drew my life on the air. a-front your face. and you smiled and choked. and giggled and snarled. and patted my shoulders. with a deep sense of gravity and pride. it made me quiver in pride. in an undeserving armor i was given to wear. 

and i miss your heart. and your stoicism. and the pitch of your tongue. and the little scribbles you did on the white. i still have them pinned to my suitcase. 

i miss the laugh of passion. sliding beneath your teeth. your determination. and your courage. your bravery of might. your reels of sugary candor. i loved them all. and i miss it.

thank you for your time. 

Sunday, August 22, 2010

boston

back on the pebbles. and the dry fields of corn. as i wheel through the lanes, i remember those beauties. and pillars. and tear drops. and laughs. of not so long ago.

and while i sat by the wood. and a sheet of overpeering glass. i have learned from your science. that you are the man. Dr B. and your creativity. has amazed and baffled me. beyond a yardstick you can ever perceive. and as you twirl and twist, your bone of endless energy. i squirm in joy and happiness at your capabilities. and how you pen your thoughts. and gesticulate. your tolerances and bouts of imagination. and raging creativity. thank you for your time. and your syllables.

Dr S. thank you for your time. and your words of the land. i will keep you updated.

Dr D. i'm looking forward to that garland of words. and your strokes of glazy acrylic. thanks for all your help

Friday, August 13, 2010

brookline phobia

let's say it was around 9 36 this morning -the reason i do not remember the exact time is because i still do not wear a watch; a childhood peeve that i have not quite gotten over yet -and i was strolling down to work in a grey-white striped button-up shirt and tan pants. my dress shoes -i had bought them around seven months ago from a store in vernon hills, IL -I have to add, make a very characteristic shuffle when i walk. i'd like to think it's not my messed up gait that contributes largely to this annoying noise, but i choose to move forward anyway. hopeful, yes. that no one would notice or hear.

however, this morning was an extreme. i call it extreme because i am still baffled, slightly mortified and uncannily whimsical since the event this morning. it's been two hours, almost.

this is what happened. while i am mindlessly walking down brookline avenue, i am randomly stopped by a square african-american woman. i look at her closely; her lips are chattering. she is muttering something to herself in a language that is definitely not english. her fists are clenched tight enough to crush the head of a five-year old child. and she's awkwardly checking me out. i am slightly uncomfortable, so i return the (dis)favor. i will not go into details. but most noticeably she's got curly brown hair, dyed awkwardly in patches of blonde. she's wearing an orange-rimmed pair of spectacles. she has a bible in her purse -it is jutting out through the tip of the zipper. and she's overweight. after a minute of checking each other out -she spits at me and tells me. your walk reminds me of that ghost my husband had. i thought it was gone. but now you come.

walk away from me, she says. tell me you're sorry. i knew i would hear you someday.

i paused. said sorry. and left.

Monday, August 9, 2010

ramble

you make me think all the time. and sometimes when i look out of the window. i see your face. as you wed. and reel. and dream. and push. and gape. and trump those mocking birds. out of the tall turrets -brick-built and bent.

all i want to say today is thank you for all that you have said. expected and unexpected. i'm in a weird mood today. my acceptor died. and my eyes hurt. my lips tremble as i scribble this on my blog. my mind wanders. back and forth. through and through. it's an uncanny feeling.

and i'm hearing the canon. yet again. in this cold dampen room, illuminated by rain and tear. i hear a faint whistle in the background. i miss you.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

this lazy sunday afternoon

this is a conversation that took between a young girl, probably fourteen or fifteen years of age and her mother, a frail lady -probably in her mid or late-forties, with blonde-brown permed hair. the young girl, let's call her Ms L, is caked with make-up, on a sunday afternoon at 1:30 pm. in a food court. she is wearing thin heels, which elevates her height by atleast an inch or two. mother M, is in frayed sandals. she is wearing a ring on every finger of her left hand. and has a very eccentric smile. she breathes heavily, as she whispers some random syllables to her daughters ears. followed by a yawn, where she half-stuck out her tongue and made a click sound as she paused. she patted L's back for no obvious reason. and decided to have a serious conversation, i guess. in the Subway line, at the Galleria.

I am standing behind the two of them. waiting for my onion-flavored chicken teriyaki sandwich.

M: Hey sweetie, so I have been meaning to ask you for a while. But yea... what exactly is text messaging?

L (pretends to have not heard what was asked) : mamma, did you order your sandwich yet?

M (clearing her throat): yes dear. i did. i got a meatball footlong. how about you? oh yea, i was wondering, what exactly is text messaging, can you explain it to me a bit?

By this point, I could hear L release a mild grunt.

L: well instead of talking, people just message. What do you want me explain mom? stop embarassing me.

M (extremely nonchalant): oh but i'm sorry honey. do you mean, by this service, you can send me something i can read?

L: exactly, now let's go.

M: But honey, i'll miss your voice so much. i didn't know you could not hear the person's voice if you text messaged. oh my...what a pity...(fading) don't ever text me honey, i'll miss your voice, and.... ....

I was done by this point. L was dragging M outside the mall. that's as much as I can recall.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

a morning

as i write this, i continue to feel nauseous and loopy from the occurences of this morning. it was a spinal tap, formally known as lumbar puncture. and it definitely is one of the more painful things i have undergone thus far. i make it a point to say, one of the more physically painful. emotionally, well yes -pain just doesn't randomly evaporate into thin air. but i had a weird feeling of joy and pain. combined. it was strange, yet satisfying.

i heard that the girl, a cowering fourteen year old, had terrible metastasis. she has a 90% chance of mortality despite transplant. so i'm not sure, if i should go ahead at this point. may be i should wait and give it to omeone who has a higher survival rate. i'm confused. and sad. and despondent. i wanted the little girl to live. oh well.

lab has been going very well. lots of numbers to deal with. people. moods. sprigs. emotions. arguments. laughter. spices. eye balls. fingers. nails. and scents.

and a lot of science