The Noresoup Jukebox

happiness is a butterfly - Lana Del Rey well, who's to blame for her nosing around this cat fussing only to find sweet escape in all the butting and bantering; this shiny, feathery wand teaser. and who's to blame the cat for wanting much more than  whatever's shiny on the surface; hunting a moving target this insatiable mind. and who to blame when the cat succeeds? and in doing so, finds out, that the prize was, in fact, rancid, poison for the mind, poison for the mouth. can she perform what God once did transforming this wasted land of bones into something powerful and holy, calling herself Ezekiel? and if she hopes for such a revival, waiting for the bones and tendons to form, will she be ridiculed for not paying heed to warnings when all advised her that there were better men, better land to run to and hunt. how to placate what curiosity brings, cat who was previously yearning, now cat who is heavy with doubts. and just how many masks had the prize worn, for all to tell ...

Alice Phoebe Lou - Angel my mother places her hands on my head prays this holy confrontation dedicates three lines to my ambiguous future and another three to my current disposition point of contention i don't believe God cares to correct attitude or posture well grateful am I still. although this gratitude broke  in the next five very long lines about finding the perfect person  to do this very awful life with. and then, my younger sister dreamt me a bride and a groom who was the least bit dashing. I ask her, "Well, is he rich?" She is quick to spurn. Speaks at length about how  he is made of humility and little riches and I sober up. "Why couldn't you dream up a better man for me? for at least in dreams, they should come easy." Frustration bubbling under both our skins "Oh, but you don't understand! He may have very little, but to him, understanding you comes easy."

Peter Cat Recording - Floated By drunk on wine my formidable friends cooped up in this lonely room unafraid of difficult conversations and its emotional landscape. Emmett Sir takes the stage, speaks at length about being the head of a family at this very tender age. Mordechai on my shoulder we make a promise if we hang around too late on the shelf we must marry once we turn 40. And yes! I make a declaration. no man is enough for me, so forget their wit and intellect. I would like only, to have someone who can hold  space for me, and my wild tangents, and the crippling ruminations with ease. Rin finds it hard to agree and perhaps I should too and it might be sooner than later that I repeal my silly declaration. Then she tells me to be selfish for myself and Emmett Sir pours three shots to that. my throat closes up how to swallow such a daunting pill? for I have loved others so very fiercely in all the ways I know to love, and yet when the loving is to be received, I freeze and come ...

Halo - Alice Phoebe Lou laundry basket scattered on the terrace this little life of mine sun, loving me so very fiercely i forget that there was a time my now dry hands folded in prayer for a moment of leisure such as this and how many years have passed since then? when I felt so forlorn in Delhi? when I played housewife at age 22 and I wanted so deeply to have someone see me. wrestling sleeplessness till 4 am classes stretching on till very late evening and when I got home, so much to do, and so little understanding. and why did God not answer? was it that I had too many pleas? was He listening to them one by one, and now, still deciding, which one He might put at ease? well, no wonder my luggage weighed so heavy. as i hang up the fresh linen, and take in the hills and the scorching sun, it becomes clear to me that I had placated all my past hurt and now they are surfacing, blisters on my skin popping one by one.

Emmett Sir, what would i do without knowing i have you? you know what my laughter means and can decipher the shifts in tone and lilt and if i come to you, battered and bruised, not even knowing  the words that might describe appropriately, you sit there with me in silence like you understand, even if not fully. and when has a joke revived someone at the wake? what emotion is a problem that requires a solution? you read my mind, allow me to cry, you don't impose a logical reason. and how hard it must have been, for you to do it all alone. wisdom and empathy built from so many years of grovelling before you were grown. yet not many learn from their pain, their years of neglect and guilt. lucky am I that I found you, man of humour, power, and emotional intellect, not having wasted a single drop from all those years of tears shed. lucky is the ground that holds you, and every room you walk into, and luckiest am I  for having known you all those silly growing years you made my yout...

Misty May, Book fair with Mordechai today I wish you could have come, although little would have impressed you for the books incited little fun. Then we stopped by Autumn Brew, still a very lovely cafe. I got a dirty matcha, no sugar, as always, but the caffeine carried me away. It's been lovely playing passenger, I no longer drive as much. Though I do miss you,  scolding me from the back telling me not to rush to the front. In other news, I am at a very  slow, liminal space;  this still-very-lovely life of mine. A few months of trying to find the right answers to --- what will you do? What is next in line? God must be busy opening someone's jar or saving a car from getting towed, Haven't heard from Him quite yet, though my neighbour said  He helped her dead Bougainville grow. Yes, the flowers must bloom in time first, and the clouds must hide till the laundry dries. Misty May, tell me in my silly  predicament, this awful state of being, how must I try to get by...