It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
By Oriah Mountain Dreamer
(A Native American Elder)
So the mosaic music festival is over and yes, i am thankful for this cute little fest which attracted a diverse mix of acts this year.
I totally enjoyed the Brooklyn Funk Essentials and Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra; even though I was down's syndroming that night they were energetic and 'powerful' enough to keep me on my feet. Oh, and the thrombone player in TokyoSka is damn hot... drooooool.
Where would i be without music and all these wonderful tunes?
A friend of mine tells me that music IS the fourth dimension - so much an unseen part of life but really important and essential to life.
My best memories in this life involve music; being wrapped around lovingly by words set to music and thoughts streaming in between notes and a story between a cleft and then some treble.
Ah...
POST-OPERATIVE COMPLICATIONS FOLLOWING THE EXTRACTION OF MEMORY
In an ancient, gypsy
dictionary of dreams
are explanations of my name
and numerous
interpretations of all I’ll write.
What horror comes across me
when I come across myself
in such a dictionary!
But there I am:
a camel fleeing the slaughterhouses,
galloping toward the East,
pursued by processions
of knives and assessors,
women wielding
mortar and pestle for chop meat!
I do not consider myself a pessimist,
and I certainly don’t
suffer from the shock
of ancient, gypsy nightmares,
and yet, in the middle of the day,
whenever I turn on the radio,
or turn it off,
I breathe in a kind of historical,
theological leprosy.
Feeling the bonds of language
coming apart in my throat and loins,
I cease attending
to my sacred obligations:
barking, and the gnashing of teeth.
I confess!
I’ve been neglecting
my post-operative physiotherapy
following the extraction of memory.
I’ve even forgotten
the simplest way of collapsing
in exhaustion on the tile floor.
10.IV.1973© 1973, Taha Muhammad Ali
From: Never Mind: Twenty Poems and a Story
© Translation: 2000, Ibis Editions
Translated by Peter Cole, Yahya Hijazi and Gabriel Levin
Don't know but this is what i saw one night when i was looking at my friend sleeping. Weird eh? I wish i could draw better though; my skills are just so retarded; looks like kid's scribbling. *
I've taken a week off from work due to the dreaded cold, and i'm coughing up disgusting bits and my throat feels like the sahara. It's a welcomed break though, as I do find work a little too much to take at times. It doesnt pay very well and it sucks the living daylights out of my soul - I wonder why people don't tell you this before you sign up for careers you know? Like even McDonald's apple pies come with warnings, why not jobs?
what's cool today? Electrico! I caught them last night at NUS cultural centre and it was a great concert! *swoon* i have a crush on Dave - *swoon* and keyboardist is so hot too!
Yeah that's my craze for this weekend. GOOD ol' local music.
