Head-ache & a bowl of noodles
You know how once I started blogging, I blog! [atleast once more]. Here are some notes from an app by the same name on my phone. I call them “Knots of Wisdom [Not so of wisdom?] from a brain fractured”, fracturing at any rate. They are observations/inspirations/rants that occur to me in my daily walks; random thoughts that are either too short for a blog post, or too personal/political/racist to share with those among whom I live and work – and grab the occassional Thai appetizer with.
So grab that coffee, put those feet in a “saffa”/”nikel” or “mezefzefia” full of icy water and hit the “Continue reading” button.
In the interest of full disclosure, I feel these bits and pieces are my most honest “work” yet *smile*.
You know you are racist/homophobic/sexist about something when you try to defend it by bringing up “friends”. Like “I love black ppl, I got friends that are black”. I do it with gays and Chinese women. All of whom I have no problem with and got friends amongst. But don’t really love. Not by a long shot.
[Regarding cheeck-bones and Asian-eyes]: My face branches in, instead of branching out.
Last night I dreamt of steak.
All fear comes from trying to see the future. If you know what is coming, you aren’t afraid.
[Actual bus talk]
Driver, are u going to 3rd and pike?
I am, are you?
I would like to.
Well.. let’s all go there then. (Pause) Yeah. I have this——bus. Might as well use it (while we still have it).
The only difference between the crazy and the sane is contol (the ability thereof).
Walk around with the face you see in ur head, not the face you see in the mirror.
You think you are married and lonely? Try being lonely and lonely. Try not having somone to call you when you fail to keep your curfew. Try eagerly returning a call made while you were at work and hearing a spanish telemarketer prompter “por favor”ing you about some shit. Or getting psyched about receiving an email!.from wellsfargo!.asking you to fill a customer opinion survey!!
Black actors in olden times look proud and like they belong. Black ppl here look angry and suspicious. Timid. Eager to impress. Eager to show they don’t care if their “impressions” didn’t work. Like they will never belong anywhere.
You begun to get lost the minute u started doubting urself.
I told God that unless he gave me a man after my heart, I won’t stop smoking. “Just so you know”, i warned him, “You are putting cigarettes in my mouth. And if i end up getting a cancer, guess who is gonne feel real shitty about it?!”.
The voice of children
Wind playing with a girl’s dress
[On the bicycle-track at Elliot bay]: [By the way they huff] You can’t tell the dogs, from the humans, from the bicycles.
Kids don’t know why they smile for photos.
Or why we need to fix the house when somebody (the grand parents?!) is coming over.
I can only tell I am alive by my anger.
When u have a serious illness, the first thing you do is run to ur defense.
[A dead man from a scene on “Morvern Callar”]: His body was there. But he has left.
When he is nervous, he chews until his body vibrates. Intently looking infront of him, he stomps that gum like he is stomping grapes to make wine. Like he is a horse and the gum was the body of a deadly enemy. Like his life depended on it.
Don’t say “cheese”.
Fountains are angels having a party, or Massai-warriors putting a show for their [White] visitors. They call it “jumping to ur death”. Its more like “diving” [to your death].
A teeny tiny dog got really excited (quarrelsome, snippy) upon beholding this huge ivory dog, who was mild-mannered and pretty chill. Didn’t even give her a second glance (look her way), like he had so many things – other things- to worry about. Like he is too pre-occupied with the cares of the world -his!
All black people who go to the library aren’t there for the rest room.
[After “exercising” in the sun]: I looked like I was coming out of a sweat shower
My neck is too fragile for my brain.
Hell isn’t other people, hell is ur mind.
Dogs are like Chinese women, they would follow you anywhere if there is the prospect of food and if you are White.
Much has been said about men’s desire for a hero figure. Not enough has been said of men’s desire for enemies.
I used to march with pride and confidence. Now I gotta second guess my self so bad that riding downward escalators has become a safety hazard.
Ever wondered why healing wounds itch?
People in america are catered to. They are spoiled because there is always a possibility of “something being done about it”. They know: if its man made, there is a way it can be broken or worked around. Give them a minute. Be patient. Yichalal!
The possibility of a possibility, America is full of it.
The shoes looked like tatoos on her feet.
Is the wind like a man playing around you? Flirting? Teasing? Bear-hugging?
My emotions switch between fear and anger. Those are the only emotions I have. When I am afraid, I am unsure of everything. When I am angry, I can brow-beat everything down.
The righteous is always angry. Does righteousness justify anger?!
I am losing my anger. I no longer know who i am. Was anger the ground underneath my feet?
A man is checking a woman out, with her arms in her boyfriend’s, she thinks “aww… guys like me because I am with him”; and holds her man’s arm more warmly. A woman is checking out a man with his girlfriend’s arm in his, he thinks “well … hello!?”
How can a black woman kiss another black woman? Aren’t they sisters?
Walking and thinking. Thinking and walking. A man can walk and chew a gum. Can a woman walk and think?
[About my worries]: Nothing [a mere] breathing in and out wouldn’t fix.
There isn’t a greater compliment than seeing a guy rushing into the newly vacated tight spot on the side of the street to pick you up.
Is google God? There can’t be all these people taking their time to go on the internet [register, log in, type] to ask questions for situations and feelings I am going through!!
Imagine how my “Big Fat Greek Wedding” would go if it was scripted by a Hollywood writer. Tula would hide, or lie about, the “sitting hostess” he once saw. And at the end of the story the “cat” would come out of the bag and Ian would storm off to the airport (to fly to Winsconsin to his family, “he’s gotta figure this out. He can’t even look at her right now”) after screaming “You lied to me?!”. And her mother, or grandma, would hand her down an ancient wisdom. Tula realizes it was her insecurity that stopped her from “being herself”, she wipes off the makeup, gets rid of the contacts, and she would go after him, in a taxi chauffered by Nick. Her dad, literally, comes around in the nick of time, and steps into the cab after her saying something about family and honor. They make it in time. She screams something in Greece she’s been helping him memorize, Ian takes her back, and the airport luggage guy [who happens to be Greek!!] who got knocked off in the process would be picked and brushed off by Mr. Portokalos and a dash of Windex would be administered to his wound [to Tula’s horror] – making the spot magically dissapear [making her a believer in the power of Windex, and the frivolity of ignoring ancient wisdoms]. A perfect little skinny hollywood ending to a tremendous greek movie. And, like all small skinny things, dissatisfactory.
Our faith in technology is scarier than our belief in [a] God.
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