Jet Lag

“..with a feeling like jet lag—an odd sensation of fragility, of being there and not here, somehow distant from my surroundings.” Roberto Bolano, Sensini.


It’s funny and sad, in a weirdest way….
During the recent journey, I’ve seen so many skies—sky with scores of faces and colors, sky with outrageous mood, sky whose voice calms me down, sky pretending to be sky, sky with or without evenings, and sky who steals my last morning with Asia.

Those skies.. follow me to my deepest unconsciousness.

..when I woke up, it’s in the middle of night.. Then I choked up with nausea in my head..
Seemingly asleep the rest of the world was, or at least my surroundings, I had this numbness, because I tried not to think.. or feel..

Hey.. it’s not a feeling like jet lag, it is a jet lag..
but then I know exactly neither is true..

Who suffers more? The leaver or leavee? I or Asia?
She doesn’t seem to care; it’s morning over there anyway.

I, now, continue to drag my tired body to the familiar arena of seclusion... till the dawn comes..
with its soothing warmth, my soul rests, while my eyes are still open, searching for things that I cannot have.

..

The painting is still incomplete.. I am not satisfied with the color nor the brushstrokes.

..I have terrible headaches..maybe from poor eyesight.. ..My eyes are lazy, and I have overworked them for so long.

Consequently, there is this pain ..so horrible, horrible pain in the head..

Absence....the lack of unknown… even in this moment..

I need sleep..

I need to rest now..

I need to just close my eyes..

But the painting is still not finished..

breaking up with Thibaw

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what would I do..

if there were no more stars?

everyday can't be as muted as it is now..

I am in “the Glass Palace”

its mirrors reflecting thousands of images

some near some far

past is now the only witness

inside all these walls

we look around and around..

Nothing left..

one more time and

Nothing exists.

as if there were no as if..

Kipling shouting out “Mandalay”

I keep on looking for the stars..

He, Thibaw, the last King of Burma, the Greatness

with those binoculars..

Searching for the stars that never went home..

What would you do

If there were no more stars?

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Marlene Dumas

The writer of "Irrawaddy Tango" and "The Coffin Tree"

"The role of the artist in the East is not to question and challenge the nature of reality but to reconcile society with reality. Self-expression in the Western sense is not the task of the artist in the East. Rather it is affirmation, repetition, the subjugation of the ego’s very desires and ambitions that preoccupy those in the West. "

............

"History, after all, is the version of the victors. The history books are slanted in favor of the successful conquerors. Literature, on the other hand, documents the version of the conquered. I’m on the side of literature. "

Wendy Law-Yone

To Err Is Human

I stepped onto someone's spectacles..
why did he place them on my way?
didn't he know that I was going that way?
..on the ground..who would put glasses on the ground?
was it a trick?
was it an act?
..now they were under my shoes... they were not supposed to be under my shoes.
the owner of the spectacles was from China...I pretended that I didn't know Chinese..
I compensated him with $100.. that's all I had, my friend.
He kept on murmuring in Chinese, holding the broken glasses..I kept on pretending, looking at the red sky bringing in the storm...

it's not easy to be erroneous.
one has to be very careless and unobservant..
perhaps, I am too human..

...I am too human to not look for the things where they are not supposed to be..
..I am too human to not think that there are other human beings just like me who are ready to make errors..
...I am too human to not expect things coming into my way and only to realize it's too late after tripping..
..
..way too human..
..

...

Today I am very unfortunate..
Or yesterday or tomorrow..
..there is only callousness around me..
It’s only too cold..
so I try to smile… cheer up .. and be pleasant within my ability to do so..
…but too hard.. too hard to please you..
Maybe I have already been a vile person, and it’s too late to mend my standing..