An open letter to a stranger

This is a bit long and contains some profanity. I implore you to read it though, it’s sincerely meant and for all to read.

Hey, how are you?

I’m writing from my desk when I could be, arguably, doing more important things. However, I believe that this may be one of the most crucial things I ever could do … writing this letter to you.

I remember becoming excruciatingly aware of the passage of time a couple of years ago but none has rivaled the year that was 2016. I could bitch about it to no end, about the mistakes I made and how increasingly small I feel in this yawning old world that knows how to squeeze happiness out of a soul as much as it knows how to inspire an all-consuming will to live simply by existing in all its majestic beauty.

Sounds really poetic, doesn’t it? You know, poetry isn’t all pretentiousness, not all the time anyway. It’s the insincere assholes with some underhand agenda and something to prove that spew nonsensical drivel, giving the rest of us a bad name.

What did you learn from the past year? Did you pet many dogs? Got braces?  Did you get that promotion you toiled after? Or did that jerk with the broad white smile grin his way into the spot?

I hope you quit smoking, if not I’m tempted to send you what a smoker’s internal body cavity looks like. Yeah, go on looking disgusted and fed up with the well-meaning but unsolicited advice. It’s just … I want you to know that somebody out there cares.

Look up

I’m sorry that your brother/sister/mother/father died. I mean, I wouldn’t have known them personally but that new absence is a black hole in the fabric of your reality and I know that shit isn’t light, yeah? I remember when my grandad died three years ago, at the viewing before we took his empty vessel to the burial ground to be cremated into the open air … one of my grand-uncles told me to be strong. What he meant was “don’t cry”.

What the actual fuck even? I’ll tell you what I did. I cried. I cried because I don’t flow with that stoic shit. Because my grandfather was one of the most important people in my life and I hardly knew him. Even when I’d lived with him up until that last day. I did know that alcoholism screwed up what could have been a more promising life past his post in the riot squad.

But that was sixty years ago. The man I knew suffered withdrawal from the bottle, pissed and full of vinegar one day, and peaceful and jovial the next. He evened out eventually, but then came the mild assault of Alzheimer’s and the more prevalent Parkinsons that got worse after his fall. I laugh a little because the man could still quote Shakespeare off his head. He was a decent human being that made mistakes and paid for them. We moved on and lived as best as we could, but looking back today it was a half-life and the waste was mine. It was all of ours.

So when I was told to be strong … Continue reading “An open letter to a stranger”

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A case of split identity

I have serious shit to do, like work stuff with real consequences and do you know what I’m doing?

Guess. Take a wild one.

I think perhaps some of you know. When the deadline approaches like when Dean Winchester grabs pie … I procrastinate aggressively. I’ve gone and made myself yet another side blog, and I’m not talking about the writing one I made last month.

This one is purely for serious thought not related to books. But HC&B has been my base for six years now and spreading out content (of any nature) away from this blog tears at my mind little by little, yet I go and do it all over again.

*frustrated scream*

It’s not as if I have the f*cking time. There’s no problem with compartmentalizing overall, I guess. It’s me running a marathon with a fire on my head. I do not have good impulse control when it matters the most.

Therefore, it’s time for drastic measures. I’m enlisting one of my sisters to help me put all my books in storage, leaving my desk bereft and glaring. I’ve tried this in the past, goodness knows how I tried, but never quite managed to not leave a book. I’m fed up with myself is what I am.

I’ll just have to survive.

Eyes and ears, m’dear

Here’s my latest scratchings over at the esteemed Poet’s Blog. Check us out, there’s such diversity abound you’re sure to find something that’ll make you smile.

Poet's Corner

Hear the things,

they speak with their eyes

Words are a lair’s arsenal,

look just how lightly they step

around promises, and juggle emotions

Look within you for your truths,

see what injustice strikes you like a fist,

understand what you stand for.

The outside, of many things, is a facade

the innards, soul and belief belie this

Flesh and bone, masks and smiles

housing within a starlight light,

or void blackness

View original post 69 more words

Youth does not belong to the young

Journal Entry

4th March, 2017

Sunrise
An unfiltered shot of a view from my kitchen window at dawn.

Youth belongs to the brave, not exclusively to the young so don’t let anyone fool you.

The young waste away in insecurity not uncommon for that age, worries about real problems and petty nonsense. Sometimes – no, oftentimes throwing away precious seconds like spare change. I suppose it’s all a part of the growing pains.

Hopefully, the older we get the wiser we can become. When the cloud shifts and everything is clearer and defined, well, that’s if we’re being optimistic. When we long for the pennies lost in that one ugly couch we all had years ago.

This is the age when living means Continue reading “Youth does not belong to the young”

Cliché 

img_4779-2

What’s the purpose of it all?

The universal question

Defies language

Defies location

.

Who do they ask?

Why do they?

Humbly I offer

my piece to the puzzle

You decide if and

where it fits:

Life is what you make it

Don’t ask anybody else,

don’t relinquish what

choice you have

.

Ask you, that’s who

The divine will give you hope

But what kind of living is it

when you keep looking for signs

Like living from hand to mouth

.

The divine will give you hope,

that’s all and good,

But take direction and

Let heart consult with the head

– d.s

Happy New Year!

First thing’s first, I was locked out of my account because I forgot where I put my list of codes to log in (typical) and  the text code feature wasn’t working, so yeah, I couldn’t post during Christmas week. A shout-out to Kris, the Happiness Engineer that got me back in. You rock, dude.

Got this cuddly widdle guy from here

I know 2014 has been absolute nonsense to some of us, sprinkled with the good things that propelled us forward. It’s 100% a possibility that is an understatement for many of people. Just thinking of last year, how close it is to this one still, rouses up some upsetting feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like it one bit. Personally, sure I was conflicted here and there but on a more general level, a more connected-to-humanity-level I am disgusted with the senseless loss of life born of ignorance and hate, saddened and hollowed with the people lost from the air disasters and the boat ones and the train ones and those guys in the stampede in Beijing on New year’s day.

I don’t know what it takes to be someone to govern a country, city or town but it has to take a lot of brass. Every leader has his or her own agenda that affects ‘the people’ but I reflect especially on Russia and Ukraine, on whose affairs I’m not qualified on any level to speak on with any authority but that of a concerned and curious outsider, I ask not only those two leaders but all those involved in peace making in that conflict to do one thing: look at the people.

Yes, aid has pouring in as best as it could and I am at peace inside that people sill care enough (what does that tell about my outlook on humans? A post for another time probably). Again, I have not a clue about the mind numbing effort it takes to organize and make treaties and attend talks and make decisions affecting the lives of billions. But for a moment, can we all just step back from the political and religious extremism (I am not pointing fingers here) that usually start all this clusterfu-

Look, just step back, okay? Boys and men, and the girls and women in the battlefield. No longer fresh faced and ready. Angry and blank. Hot and cold. And look at the children huddled under rippling blue tarp in a hastily put together shelter some places familiar and those others foreign, alien; lost family members, festering wounds, chapped lips and spasming bellies, meticulously portioned food; mothers and fathers sick with worry, elders with bleak eyes and maps etched deep into their faces, souls ready to skedaddle out from their ears.

I am not saying that these leaders aren’t seeing because they most obviously do Continue reading “Happy New Year!”