shared conditions of life

the lover told me, once upon a time,
that all that is solid melts into air.
he meant a lot.
i thought a lot.
so far, so good.

soon, i know, he will tell me,
all that is holy is profaned.
and at last we will be compelled to face with sober senses,
our real conditions of life.
beautiful!
looking forward to it...

december again!

with december comes a lot of dreams...
memories, desires, longings...

this is artsomniac's third winter outside the humid heaves of kerala... there is an oxymoronic warmth for the winter which just takes her farfaraway...with hot tea and country songs playing in the background, a morbid, sweet pon and zi cartoon in her desktop which reflects her almost completely, she is going to go back to her study material now. she is glad, she is an early bird these days, starting her day with the voice she keeps close to her heart...

in december, love is the color.

Just because artsomniac loves her life

Its just taking her a bit longer to understand life. To come to terms with it. Otherwise why would she take two hours of speech to understand what is precious in life? It is life which is precious. Life of us as fellow human beings. This is going to be her constant point of view. her no- utopia of well being because she can never be anyone else. she can only be herself and she can only love what she loves.

the nostalgia storehouse of malayalees

I who have lost
My way and beg now at stranger's doors to
Receive love, at least in small exchange?



Finally, you are dead my dear woman.
Now you don't have to listen to anything. Neither abuses which come out from the repressed sexual frustrations of the great middle class mallu nor the praises from the nostalgia freaks.

You are not a nostalgia storehouse for me. I do not understand the punnayoorkkulam or neermathalam of yours. I do not belong there. What draws me to you is the way you tell the tales, the magic you add to the words. When I read you, Kamla, I do not need to know whether 'My Story' is true or not. I do not have to know the truths or lies to love you. You cannot survive in Kerala unless you try to testify that the whole fiction was an outright lie. I get the point, woman.

You are our own woman. You cannot blame them for not loving you and leave the place as if they never loved you. They did. In every single abuse they wrote, some one had his little summit of pleasure. Voyeurs are after all lovers engaged in a 'one way traffic love' and abuse is yet another manifestation. Yes, Malayalees loved you. (When MJ told me about the voyeuristic obituaries, Oh, nothing else was expected at her death) Look at the obscene undertones of the obituaries they write for you which comes out through the various media tongues... Woman, they are still loving you.

Derrida on Love and Being...

Today morning I was listening to the video of Derrida speaking about love and being and I thought that it would be a nice idea to post it here. For all those who want to hear it from the horse mouth can go here. For others, his opinion about love is like this,

...one of the first questions one could pose...is the question of the difference between the who and the what. Is love the love of someone or the love of something? Okay, supposing I loved someone.Do I love someone for the absolute singularity of who they are? I love you because you are you. Or do I love the qualities, your beauty, your intelligence? Does one love someone, or does one love something about someone? The difference between the who and the what at the heart of love, separates the heart. It is often said that love is the movement of the heart. Does my heart move because I love someone who is an absolute singularity,or because I love the way that someone is? Often love starts with some type of seduction. One is attracted because the other is like this or like that. Inversely, love is disappointed and dies when one comes to realize the other person doesn't merit our love.The other person isn't like this or that. So at the death of love, it appears that one stops loving another not because of who they are but because they are such and such. That is to say, the history of love, the heart of love, is divided between the who and what. The question of being, to return to philosophy, because the first question of philosophy is: What is it to be? What is "being"? The question of being is itself always already divided between who and what. Is "Being" someone or something? I speak of it abstractly, but I think that whoever starts to love, is in love or stops loving, is caught between this division of the who and the what. One wants to be true to someone- singularly,irreplacably,and one perceives that this someone isn't x or y. They didn't have the properties, the images, that I thought I'd loved. So fidelity is threatened by the difference between the who and the what.

Well...

thinking about a no-utopia love

Yesterday, when it was un-sun in Hyderabad, I sat on one of the empty chairs in front of Sagar Stores outside the University Library. I was sitting with a double coffee; in a happy mood, after my few months of illness and a few weeks of travel, revived to know myself and my other self better. I was all fresh, full of love and peace. Everything was positive. The evening air, the cool breeze, a lonely me; pure romantic setting! Sitting with the open book in my lap, I was lost in the new Murakami I gathered from the various Murakami lovers of the University.
Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
I suddenly felt that, may be, and may be this is what every woman or every man wants to find out in life. The 100% perfect one. And once you are there, you are not there forever. The 100% perfect one cannot stay perfect forever.I think what holds people together is the emotional interdependence you share with the other which in common language we call "intimacy". And that is something which you can never, ever fake, or so I feel. You can never be detached in love,nor be dispassionate. It is always an attachment, a passion and above all a deep rooted peace one feels with the other. Peace needn't necessarily be a silent and perfect way of being. Peace is there even in the most troubled relationships. The more complex the emotional interdependence is, the more pleasurable each other's presence will be. There will be times when you tend to confuse between your self and the self of the person whom you love. And along with the pleasures, there will be frustrations, anger and even hurt.Love transforms people, molds people in relation to the other person's identity, and as far as it is a mutual process, it is a real good thing to happen. No body is perfect and if you can undo certain things and add certain new things with the influence of the other and vice versa, eventually there will be two really nice human beings together, growing(glowing too) in love.
I think you should love, fight, shout, bully, console and again repeat all of these throughout to make it 100% forever. It is like refilling the glass again before it is empty. Oh, what is peace without War, honey? What is 100% without 99%? I think my mad self is back.I think I can talk endless rubbish when it comes to love. I think I should stop. I think I have loads of work to do. I think I have signed out.