Ali

Ice cream sweet enough for revenge

All the lights were on as I bounced through my small condo’s kitchen during the witching hour. A playlist of Spice Girls blasted from my laptop on the dining table as I lightly threw a mixing bowl covered in smooth peanut butter into my sink, lined with milk and already cluttered with dishes and spoons covered in chocolate and condensed milk. I took a spatula and scooped out, from a small yellow bowl, a mound of gooey Nutella I had melted in the microwave. The chocolate trailed in the air as I rushed my spatula into the half-frozen ice cream mixture quickly melting in a wide casserole dish. I surged the sweetness through the cream trying to get the swirls to a perfect size when I heard a sturdy knock on my door.

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A different kind of good-bye

I sat alone in the parking lot taking hits of my cigarettes while waiting for a text from my sister-in-law. My brother was leaving the country to work abroad and we spent the last few hours before his departure playing with his kids, yet I was impervious to the heaviness that day. I dropped his family off at the airport and found myself at the closest mall’s parking lot wasting time until they asked to be picked up. I let them have the last few moments together, up until the time that my brother had to board. My brother last left the country about three years ago. He was there for only six months, and at the time his daughter was only three years old. Now his family included a one-year-old boy and the young girl, who asked me three years ago, “Where’s daddy going?” was now fully aware of what took place that evening.

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Coffe for the Insomniac

3 A.M. already
Darn this itch under my skin
Where are you, mosquito?
Come feast some more
Stay with me and suck my blood
Accompany me on my insomniac night.
I’ll just stay awake…

Drink a cup of coffee?
A cup of tea?
But those would make my teeth look dark…
Healthiness and heartiness
My hand-in-hand with heartlessness
and hairy legs.
Should I shave them?
Smooth and tangle-free,
buhaghag free,
free from split ends!
But not from dandruff.
Do you judge roughly?
Are you my Simon Cowell?
I called it quits
before I got to screening;
couldn’t handle it.
Is it fair?
Are you fair?
Fair-skinned?
Fair-raised? Farm raised? Well-raised?
Don’t know…

Can I know?
I’d like to know.
Do you like coffee? Tea?
Nonsense is what I serve best.
Chicken or fish?
I’ll be your steward,
just keep me awake.
I’ll even wash your hair.
Sunsilk? Creamsilk?
Your clothes: fine silks,
Indian silks, imported silks,
Chinese silks,
expensive silks…
I’ll buy them.
Just keep my eyes open.

SLAM!
I think the neighbor’s made is awake.
Shall I sleep or shall I serve?
I’m awake, but I’m not one of them,
so I should sleep
…but you’re still here.

And we’re together at the mall
but I don’t know where you really are
I wonder where you are
Are you safe? I know you’re sleeping
When did you fall asleep?
Are you sleeping well?
Did you brush your teeth?
Colgate or Sensodyne?
Sensitive teeth?
Liquid fluoride, liquid mercury
Sailor Mercury
My favorite color
The color of my curtains
The color of the sky…

I’m still awake!
I’ll take some coffee in a while
or maybe tea
It’s not as bad for your teeth
I’ll eat some breakfast
But no rice
and no butter on my toast.
No bread either. Carbo diet.
I shan’t be fat.
I need to buy shampoo
but I don’t know the language
but you do…

Will you help me?
When you wake up, of course.
If you want, you can help me.
I doubt you’d want to.
It’s 6 A.M., you must be as tired as I am.
Coffee?
No Thanks,
I just want to sleep.

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Accomplished yet empty

It was six past ten in the morning when I got out of the taxi in front of the U.S. Embassy in Manila, in a little bit of a rush as the passport renewal window was only open until 11 A.M. I put my sunglasses on as the sun hit my eyes that lacked sleep as I had come from an early morning misa de gallo. I walked across the sidewalk in a rather thick jacket. It was sunny yet still cool with light wind blowing through my hair. Ahead of me, in front of a small beige building lined with steel doors and capped with a dark green roof, was a large white tent underneath which stood several queues made up with white chains strung across white posts where crowds lined up early in the morning for visa applications. Today however, there was no crowd and I came up to a security guard behind a large wooden podium, shrouded underneath a red tent.

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Mania

You live in a world somewhere between
The heavenly skies and the darkest pits of hell
You’ll find that I never step upon your land
I’m busy spinning dizzily between the two.

Like a dog that must be chained,
Bubbles frothing at the edge of my mouth
I cause others to stray away in fear

Today I may carry Cloud 9 upon my face
But the next I’ll use it to throw lightning
Just for kicks

Accept me when I’m apathetic–
That’s the teaching of the doctor
Who’s observed me for years
And sent me off to my peaceful exile





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Why nestle for the softness?

"...A white rabbit is pulled out of a top hat.  Because it is an extremely large rabbit, the trick takes many billions of years.  All mortals are born at the very tip of the rabbit's fine hairs, where they are in a position to wonder at the impossibility of the trick.  But as they grow older they work themselves ever deeper into the fur.  And there they stay.  They become so comfortable they never risk crawling back up the fragile hairs again.  Only philosophers embark on this perilous expedition to the outermost reaches of language and existence.  Some of them fall off, but others cling on desperately and yell at the people nestling deep in the snug softness, stuffing themselves with delicious food and drink.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' they yell, 'we are flatting in space!'  But none of the people down there care.
'What a bunch of troublemakers!'  they say.  And they keep on chatting:  Would you pass the butter, please?  How much have our stocks risen today?  What is the price of tomatoes?  Have you heard that Princess Di is expecting again?

When Sophie's mother got home later that afternoon, Sophie was practically in shock.  The tin containing the letters from the mysterious philosopher was safely hidden in the den.  Sophie had tried to start her homework but could only sit thinking about what she had read.

She had never thought so hard before!  She was no longer a child--but she wasn't really grown up either.  Sophie realized that she had already begun to crawl down into the cozy rabbit's fur, the very same rabbit that had been pulled form the top hat of the universe.  But the philosopher had stopped her.  He--or was it a she?--had grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her from the tip of the fur where she had played as a child.  And there, on the outermost tips of the fine hairs, she was once again seeing the world as if for the very first time.

The philosopher had rescued her.  No doubt about it.  The unknown letter writer had saved her from the triviality of everyday existence.

When mom got home at five o'clock, Sophie dragged her into the living room and pushed her into an armchair.

'Mom--don't you think it's astonishing to be alive?"  she began.

Her mother was so surprised that she didn't answer at first.  Sophie was usually doing her homework when she get home.

'I suppose I do--sometimes,' she said.

'Sometimes? yes but--don't you think it's astonishing that the world exists at all?"

'Now look, Sophie, stop talking like that.'

'Why? Perhaps you think the world is quite normal?'

'Well isn't it?  More or less, anyway.'

Sophie saw that that philosopher was right.  Grownups took the world for granted.  They had let themselves be lulled into the enchanted sleep of their humdrum existence once and for all.

'You've just grown so used to the world that nothing surprised you any more.'

'What on earth are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about you getting so used to everything.  Totally dim, in other words.'

'I will not be spoken to like that, Sophie!'

'All right, I'll put it another way.  You've made yourself comfortable deep down in the fur of a white rabbit that is being pulled out of the universe's top hat right now.  And in a minute you'll put the potatoes on.  Then you'll read the paper and after half an hour's nap you';; watch the news on TV!'

An anxious expression came over her mother's face.  She did indeed go into the kitchen and put the potatoes on.  After a while she came back into the living room, and this time it was she who pushed Sophie into an armchair.

'There's something I must talk to you about,' she began.  Sophie could tell by her voice that it was something serious.
'You haven't gotten yourself mixed up with drugs, have you, dear?'

Sophie was just about to laugh, but she understood why the question was being brought up now.

'Are you nuts?' she said.  'That only makes you duller!'

No more was said that evening about either drugs or white rabbits."

- Jostein Gaarder, Sophie's World