Eating pie

A wise man once said, "Eating humble pie, like authentic Chinese food, is an acquired taste." Obviously, he isn't Chinese himself. And to tell you the truth, he isn't all that wise either. Not any more. Not since he had some of that humble pie that left not just a bad taste in the mouth but caused severe indigestion in his brain.

Over the last few months, I have been doing my best to not make compromises, to stand my ground, to do what I think I want to do. And the results are there to see for anyone who cares to look. Nada. Zilch. I blame my luck which shines down endlessly on me in all its darkness, and there are some who agree with this point of view. A very few others tell me that I have perhaps not made enough efforts or haven't gone about things in the right way. But the one thing that I have heard more than anything else, in terms of perfectly good-willed advice, is that I should start believing in god. Ah, the temptation...

Anyhow, so I was saying. With my back to the wall, I lowered my expectations and broadened my search to include things I had totally written off earlier. And now that my back has made a shallow hollow in the wall and is hurting like hell on account of being bruised, I am perhaps going to take the final step back, in to the wall, the personal wall of shame .

Three years ago, I had left television production, full of disgust for the industry in general and for my erstwhile workplace to be specific. I went to study some more in the hope that it would help me move away from the line of work I had previously found myself stuck in. I left London because I found myself doing broadcast work again. And now, it seems to me that once again, I will find myself back in shit creek. This time, for good. Same old job, same old office, same old colleagues, and I hate it all. Aye, the taste of shit is remarkably similar to that of the humble pie that is curdling my brain.

Two weeks.

A treat for the readers

I have put up very little of my personal writing on this blog, but here is a poem I wrote some days back. Yes, I know it is very generous of me to share it, and the words of course, are charming as ever. So enjoy "an ode to the one i loved". And oh, I hope no turd will rip off any of it for any reason whatsoever.

31.viii.2009

like a pit full of burning lava
blood bubbles up in my heart
it flows hot through my veins
reaches my brain with a start

confined space not much help
ventless anger builds up quick
choose the gun or the crowbar
damn, its so difficult to pick

no, i will use bare hands only
that is the only thing to satisfy
as they close around her throat
so hard, she won't be able to cry

how her body is thrashing now
she really wants to scream for help
wants to beg for her shitty life
but she only manages to softly yelp

even if she did get a word in
too late for mercy and forgiveness
but it must not finish so quickly
a tad too soon yet for nothingness

i will spare you the other details
her soul went north and body south
i sat there with a difficult smile
thinking, with my gun in my mouth