Daily (w)rite

Writing about reading is something I do often, but this is the first time I have examined books I have read so far. This was a book-list I found on the blog by Darcness, and felt I should check out the list through a post. So, here goes:

The Big Read, an initiative by the National Endowment for the Arts, has estimated that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they’ve printed. How do you do? Leave a comment if you feel like it or simply do a post of your own.

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read: 49
2) Italicize those you intend to read: 10
3) Underline the books you LOVE: 12 (I marked them with asterixes)

Here is the list. Happy Browsing!

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I have been writing about books every now and then, books I am reading, books I wish to read.

Back when I was a student, and sometimes did not know where the next meal would come from, I would still buy books. Books sold by weight on Indian pavements, because in those days in India they wasted nothing, and I could not afford shiny new books.

But now, when I can afford to buy any book I might possibly want, used books still call to me.

I tried to write about this love affair (in prose, mind you!) but I can’t help it, I think each books speaks to me in verse, in words which are garbled prayer and temptation,  so here goes (sigh, again, “a poem”!!!! Rick, you are laughing, aren’t you?)

Thumbed, dog-eared,
cover torn in places
names written, forgotten
crossed out, passed on.

I come with a tang
of lazy afternoons,
of mildewed bookshelves
falling apart,
of cheap colognes
on a young man
looking for a start,
of pungent desires
shakily denied,
salted airs in a
pickle factory where
I almost died,
of this dusty pavement
where I am to be sold
made into packets, bags,
my story untold.

Come pick me up
take me with you
and you shall know
of whispered confessions,
innuendos, half-written
poems, and shattered
dreams, as I talk
to you and you listen
with your eyes closed and
an open heart.

For my best secrets
were not printed
on my body
but written
into my soul
by all these years
I spent waiting,
waiting for you,
my love.

While writing on my blog, the last thing on my mind is the number of visitors I have.

This blog started more or less as a writing discipline, something to do and do well every day, and I guess it has often deviated from that. I am determined, more than ever, not to use it as a personal rant blog, nor for the more profession-related stuff.

Though I am not exactly bothered about the number of visitors I receive, I long for comments. I like to hear what other people have to say, sometimes I hate the idea of a post being found on a search, glanced at, and discarded. I love it when I find the same people on my blog time and again, it gives me a sense of community which is so reassuring. It is also a motivator when someone appreciates what I am doing on my blog, reminds me I got to move ass and write everyday, because it is so shameful when a visitor returns to find a stale post.

If I was given a wish for my blog, it would be this: Let there be ten visitors to my blog a day, and ten comments, rather than a hundred visitors a day and two comments.

Amen.

I am feeling helpless and isolated. Writing is a thing of the past.

Reason?

I do not have broadband!

I have to sneak in time between potting plants and putting on cushion covers to rush down to the Coffee Bean across the road to do whatever little freelance writing work I can still do.

I have been approving comments and not replying to the ones so generously left on my blog, I apologize to each and every one of you who has commented in the past week or two.

Thanks for visiting, caring, and leaving those comments. Those really cheer me up!

I have been running from pillar to post doing all kinds of things these past two weeks, and the lack of broadband means that there is no late-night browsing or blogging. I did not know I will miss it so, but I do. And I miss each and every one of you

Here is to getting back on broadband by next week!

Writing has become increasing more difficult over the past week, because all I can think of is packing, hanging, arranging, decorating. Moving into a new house does that to you, I guess.

One particular thing on my most-desired list right now: gecko tape.

I have so many things to hang, and pristine walls I don’t want to nail and damage. Gecko tape would be just the thing….*sigh*

Writing has come to a standstill, how about some gecko-tape to carry the load of guilt as well? Yeah, right!

Oh, there she is! Must go up to her! Is that milk I smell? She does look like she has something in her hand…yes, yes, slurp, it is milk! Come closer, come closer! Oh I am so hungry and this thing at my neck pulls so! I know I stink, girl, but just come closer so I can have a go at that bowl. Come nearer, nearer! Ok, now!

It is silly how useless these legs are, I can drag along so fine with these on the front, but how about having a pair to shove me up at the back too, like my brothers and sisters? Never mind, never mind, I will get to it in time, can I have some of that milk, please, now??

Ok…sigh..that was good! Now why does she look so down? Say something! I like it when you say things, I don’t understand them one bit, but I like the sound. Reminds me of my mum. I like how you touch my head too, I know you avoid the back because I have been sitting around in my own shit, but you see I can’t pull up my behind at all! I try, I try, see how I try! Oh look! I managed a bit! Oh no! I fell down again! Don’t look so low, I will manage, I will!

So you are going to do that washing thing? Why so early today? Usually you do it when I get my food next. I like that food: all that yellow and white fluffy stuff, very smelly, but nice! Ok, now, I hate this cold, why do you have to put me in water? There is not even enough sun yet! I like the way you pick me up tho, by the scruff of my neck, like mum used to.

Not like that monster boy who picked me up, making that awful sound looking really happy, just before he dropped me. I used to be able to move all my four legs before then. But when I fell, I was hurt, oh so hurt. I cried, I yelped, because it hurt. I was scared already because he had taken me away from my mum and my siblings, but now it hurt!

There, you got me all clean, I like the smell of that stuff you put on me. Your hand smells nice too, I like telling you how nice you are by licking your hand, because I don’t know how else to say it. It is like when you pat my head, and say Feenix, Feenix! That’s me right? I know when you say Feenix, you are calling me! You are saying something about me right now!

I have to call you something too, but I know you don’t understand anything when I talk to you, you just stroke me softer. So I lick your hand. You make a funny, happy sound then! But why aren’t you making that sound today? And why is your face all wet? Pick me up, pick me up, so I can lick you clean! I don’t stink right now, so you can pick me up!

Now that I am full, lets play! I cant move much I know, but you can bring your hand near and I can try biting at it, like I always do! Such fun! And such a nice day it is too! I’d like to go a bit further, but this thing at my neck you tie me with! Ah, can’t you just loosen it a little bit? Let’s go, come on, please!

Hey you are picking me up, what fun! There, there, I know you don’t look too good today. That’s alright. I will lick you better. Hey your face doesn’t taste alright, all salty, what is this wet thing all over it? It looks like water, but ugh, it tastes bad! Never mind, I will dry it up for you, there girl! How about some more milk then, eh? I can do with some more! I like it when there is nothing on my neck, so wonderful, so free!

So you are putting me into the basket? We are going to meet that man eh? I don’t like it when he pokes me though, he tries to make me stand, and I hate it when you look so low when I fall. I want to stand, I do! I will too, you’ll see!

Ok we are there. I don’t like that table. I feel scared, don’t put me down, don’t!

Ok, nasty man go away. Give me back to her!

Wait, girl, why are you going away? Don’t leave me and go, please, please, please! I am calling to you, are you deaf? You always come when I cry, don’t leave me with the nasty man!

Oh, he hurt me, he put that sharp thing in me! The nasty man hurt me! Come back!

I feel sleepy now, I feel so sleepy…come back, come back!

I was doing my 1000 words of morning writing, when I stumbled on a very helpful Character Writing Idea. As a beginner at characterization, it helps to be able to describe the characters in deep detail, how they look and what they eat, how they talk and what they wear.

You can choose to write about a friend, an ex, yourself, a partner, a spouse or an acquaintance —-as the guinea pig. Since it will all be in your private journal, you will never need fear them seeing it, but it would give you the practice you need to describe the people you already know, so when it comes to an imaginary character, things would go smoother.

I made one up today, and it went like this: (I needed a character for one of the stories I am writing, and though the description will never itself go into the story, it helps me that I can see her when I write about what she is doing)

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View of the Bay in Singapore

Houses in Singapore

Concrete and Greenery in Singapore

Singapore is a garden city, not much to see. It is a shopping haven, no more, no less.

But on mornings like this when I can see the sun kiss the ships on the bay, then shine on them bright and glaring, when the bay seems to have been painted by a meticulous artist who has captured the water stroke upon stroke with an untrammeled hand, when a white yacht makes it way across, leaving a streak of milk-white behind it on all that gleaming blue, it is bewitching to look at Singapore in all its glorious hues from my window.

Not through the open window, mind, or I can hear all the cars rushing to and fro on the highway to the airport. Closed, sound-proof, enormous windows are my favorite for a reason.

If I look up at the bright, bright sky, I can see airplanes coming in to land, they glint in the sun, bringing people into Singapore on another new day.

I love also the abundance of greenery, the park on the East coast, where I often go for walks.

But Singapore is not the country of my love.

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I was at a shopping mall in Singapore yesterday, waiting for my friend at lunch. The open restaurant is by the pool, with a nice smattering of what is called “Western food” here……..everything from Bangers and mash, Caesar salad to Tagliatelle.

As I sat watching people walking into and out of the restaurant without walls, I took to making notes of them. Here is what I wrote:

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