Archive | May, 2009

RIP

19 May

It’s happened. The much-dreaded death of a laptop battery.  She went peacefully, I’d say. Lingered some, let out three rasping breaths, and then turned her lights off forever.

As with most passings-on, I am slightly numb. Disoriented. And, of course, right about when I have so much to say, bereft of a laptop and sanity.

I hope to return in a while. On my own computer. Because hammering at keys on my family PC in a room smelling of the sibling’s old clothes at the height of summer is more than I can take. Of course I love you. But not that much.

Back in a bit. I hope. And even if I bounce back in a jiffy, this will, in ways unclear even to me, have been the end of an era.

Now pass me the darn tissue, will ya? 😥

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Rishabh’s Confession

15 May

I didn’t encourage you to date Sheila (and told you all those horror stories about her) because I wanted to be free to hate whomever she eventually ended up with.

When God Closes A Door…

12 May

mango window_cp

somewhere he opens a window. (~Julie Andrews as Maria in The Sound of Music, 1965)

…shut the window too and save yourself from heatstroke.

Credits: OJ and her Panasonic Lumix LS 80.

You Bring Out the American In Me

8 May

[Yet another take on the fabulous original. ]

You bring out the American in me.
The
roll of quarters from CVS
and chai tea in me.
The freeways,
I’ll take it to go,
gas station not
petrol pump
in me.

You’re the one
who sets the twang free,
it’s okay to skip the ts
and ripple the rs in me.
The screaming Go Yankees
the 7th and 17th
the Jewish rye bread
rise like a rollercoaster
on a Six Flags trip
over Thanksgiving weekend.

You bring out the American in me.
The cranberry sauce
and the J. Crew in me.
The knee high boots
and the TGIF in me.
The
no white shoes after
Labor Day in me.
The Fall colors
Priceline deals
and Dunkin Donuts in me.

The Staples,
the Kinkos
the Office Max in me.

Yes you do, yes you do.

You unravel the miles in me.
The
extra large tub of popcorn
in me.
The materialist,
misplaced philanthropist,
softened first-worlder in me.
Like 5-foot walls of Syracuse snow.

You bring out the American in me.
The
alto cinco and
hola chica in me.
The
‘sup dude and how you doin’
in me.
And I ache for the trees to shed on the Schuylkill
so I can look across at identical slatted porches
with overalls and Ford pick-ups on tidy squares of lawn.

I want to drive up 81 North
take exit 18
to University Ave.
look up the old red door
that meant heat and home
and the overwhelming urge to pee.

You bring out the American in me.
The Judith Lane and Halloween
in me,
the Salvation Army and free microwaves
and sofas left on the street
in me.

I am tenacity.
I am duplicity.
I
cling to you
with teeth of salt,
and blood of hepatitis-proof veins.
My
arm flares red
at hidden TB
that my billion at home
have endowed me.

You bring out the American in me.
The panic attacks and
depression in me,
the love of weekends
fear of vulnerability
and addiction to sitcoms in me.
The Philadelphia skyline,
Victoria’s Secret super-sales,
Bath & Body Works in me.

I am torn
detached from hip and limb
praying at the altar of Starbucks deities
and only bankruptcy keeps me
from you
gently undulating Stars and Stripes.

Only yours, only you.
Love the way an immigrant loves.
The way
only a girl in her twenties can surrender
before the emotion evanesces
into post-drizzle mists
and my Indian birth
reclaims me.

The Old & The Beautiful

7 May

Aww, their love is all so new.. you remember how it was?

~Gushing over his best friend and his newly-acquired fiancee, my Boy of less than 18 months.

3 guesses what kind of leather he’s getting when I see him tomorrow.

It’s Only Words

6 May

I don’t quite recall
exactly when
I got possessive
about you.

Thoughtlessly, I’d send
you out to mingle,
unmindful of those
who scrutinized, examined,
and split hairs over
the difference between
‘scrutinized’ and ‘examined’.

But then,
as you unraveled from
your lush spool,
emphatically, speedily,
gushing forth sans a crucible,
I retained only
a master copy in
my head,
hugged you close,
rocked and crooned,
but did not set you free.

And now, I
see no need to
share you;
Hang you up to drip-dry,
when you’re so cozily nestled
in the hollows of my throat,
the crook of my elbow,
the small of my back,
my inner ear
and under my toenails,
watching whirlwind days,
sharing damp summer nights,
while a blog lies empty
because we both decided
to up and leave
and keep our joy
faithfully
between us.

After the Splash

4 May

paddle pool_cp

Credits: OJ and her Panasonic Lumix LS 80. Auto mode, no flash, no filters.

Taken after the last reluctant child was hauled out of the paddle pool, leaving his water balloons behind.