kernel, reflections

though the fact that they were terrible did not mean that they were necessarily truthful

Month: December, 2013

summary of.

Two women chi-chatting over coffee, sharing the latest gossip. Both in their early thirties, in a hip little crowded café, right before night falls. You can’t tell if it’s Christmas yet. Two large cappuccino mugs on the table and an ashtray and some of their personal items; one woman’s shawl is next to her hand and the other’s pack of cigarettes. Background noise covering their voices, as the café darkens, activity is going on as usual, people coming in or paying, waiters running up and down. Dim light falls on the two women. The one who’s talking holds a cigarette on her right hand. She’s careful not to burn her shawl.

 

-So she revealed herself. Unexpectedly, unwillingly, bit by bit, word by word. [She sits back on her chair comfortably, cigarette still on hand, her left hand under her chest. The other woman listens, hands on her mug]. It was as if a [she hesitates, looking for the right words]a red cloth of stitched up images left her parted lips, veiled him, [ looks at the other woman in the eye , trying to see if she understands her] and wrapped him smoothly. [She sits up on the chair, cigarette in ashtray, a long puff, a small pause]. So, he lifted his hands, unable to take his eyes off of her and he let the cloth, her essence, take him[ smiles to herself, speaking lively]. She danced and jumped and laughed but he, he, stood still. He was inhaling hungrily her presence; a miracle before him, he couldn’t refuse he said. Couldn’t hold back. Huh. [bitter smile, pause]-It ended abruptly, a shame- [Pause. Lost in her thoughts, she then remembers she was talking and up she goes, telling the rest of the story.] He then marched forward, wanting more, inhaling violently her presence he grabbed her and held her tight. For a moment, a tiny, tiny magic moment, they were together. Their words mingled and their breaths met [she smiles at the thought]. A shame really, they could have had something- [she trails off, talking to herself .she then continues, hastingly , wanting to finally end the story ]And so her presence rejuvenated him .Her words changed him and after a year, he had taken in enough. [She puts her cigarette on the ashtray and everything stands still, the room is dark. A male waiter is walking towards the women’s table, coming from the back of the café. He takes the two cappuccinos from the table and looks at the audience.]

“He left quite easily she thought.” He turns his back and walks towards the kitchen.

 

But now, he is back.
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on You.

I decorated you,

with the colour purple

as you wore your face of Love.

I smiled at the sight, something stirred inside

and I searched deep and without fear I wore my face of Love.

But I did more than just that; I wore it well and proudly, I carried it

everywhere, and my face and my face of Love soon became one.

Oblivious to what I used to look like, I kept seeing you in the mirror

and I jumped with joy and foolishness on how my core was you.

Always, everywhere was you.

My dreams surrendered to your figure, my body bowed to yours

my words spoke of you and I madly loved you, you, you.

We danced to a frenzied, devilish music and it was dark and we were drunk on the so-called-love drug and I was blind

for you failed to keep your face of Love on for long.

And then the piano stopped and the lights were on and you smiled but it wasn’t you who smiled; you weren’t possessed no, you weren’t drunk no, you weren’t tired no.

You were you without your face of Love and you were ugly, ugly, UGLY. A horrible boy inside the thin, milk-white body of man.

I searched and searched for your face of Love; had you dropped it while we were laughing? Or maybe while we were dancing? Yes, probably dancing. And I kept on searching and searching, through alcohol and drugs and tears and cheating and fake words, for the face that I so deeply loved,

but

alas, boy, yours was just a mask.

performing

 

Lipstic (red): check.

Mascara (length, volume): 2 layers, check.

Foundation, powder, rouge: layer one, layer two, splash of colour, check.

Hair,curled : check.

Breasts ( wonderbra) : check.

High heels : check.

Gender performativity mode : ON

Identity : Yet to be discovered.