thanksgiving +

Stuffed and vomitty,
regurgitating stuffing.

***

Abundantly blessed,
forever grateful,
shall I order things for next year
with these once-in-a-lifetime sales?

***

“Black Friday should be called
Gift Friday,” said my friend Grace.
We should listen to what she says,
though her voice is often softest.

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HOPE

I will be in France, one arm out the widow of my car. Glinting light on the windshield.

I will whisper words in my sleep and wake up with a new song.

I will garnish the baked lasagna for my friends and set the table with candles. I will have them invite their friends, my neighbours too. Try these lemon lamingtons- I used to burn them in college.

I will tell them it’s going to be okay. Because I turned out fine.
By God’s grace, I turned out fine.

Profound

That word brings to mind one particular person. Erin. The things you say shock me.
It’s a profound realisation that there’s not a single thing I don’t like about you. Not even one thing that I find irritating or slightly annoying. How crazy is that.

sunday

for days now i’ve woken up feeling like grounded glass. i cannot lift my eyes forward because i carry the residue of yesterday. peanut butter out of the jar, into my belly and into the air. i feel like i am wading in it.

frustration. what does it feel like in this body? like heat rising under a lidded pot, like thrashing through a million hangers– why do i have so many  fucking clothes! that I don’t even like! All of them are roadblocks i have built and i am so angry with myself. a tower of terror, this sense of failure. it’s a stifled cry, out through the nose… i’m suffocating because i know better than to wallow.

Jesus, will your victory be mine today. Hurry, do not delay.

4am thoughts

Full bloom is when the earth won’t stop smiling, the world won’t stop spinning into the furthest of reaches.

If I could put your laughter in a box, I would sink like sand. Quick, hold me.

Be the person that proclaims with your being: I am proof that there is good in the world.

High tech marks a forward trajectory, approaching Most Human and then surpassing it.

Phone therapy replaces phone sex. What have we done to our insides?

My ego loves you. I however, don’t.

Time feels like the tired grope of my hands on a rope pulled tight. Down the rabbit hole we go.

Dear J

I learnt what “skid marks” were the hard way. I also lived with the most putrid, rotting fish fingers in the fridge – so pungent I caught a whiff of it on my robe after a hot shower in California. To be fair, I contributed to this lifestyle by allowing us to keep the leftover Chicken Masala in the microwave after a night out, still a superior alternative to the kebabs across the street. ‘Twas good whilst it lasted but we weren’t raving to it.

It’s not exactly socially acceptable to pee in the same room as another person, with the door open. I don’t usually let people listen to me pee either. So I think what we have is pretty special. There’s also no one else I’d rather be caught tatas out to the sun with but you, babe. Only in France.

And don’t even get me started on “when the day is winding down”. The onset of night is the beginning of delirium. We can get away with following a good looking man home (half joking), guffawing in tears in supermarkets, malls, parks, trains… We have left echoes of our joint existence in narrow lanes and bar corners. We are insufferable, but who can help it when you pronounce ‘Gare du Nord’ like that??

You are my saving grace on Moody Mornings, your positivity dampened only by scoundrels that demand you donate to them- the deaf, blind and mute. All of them hearing & speaking. You drag me away from hopeless conversations and you help me snag all the deals. Ask for the iPhone charger, you say, the hotel adapters, an umbrella, low sodium meals on the airplane. Where would I be without you? Soaking wet, wandering through the streets of Paris, lost, and dying from chronic high blood pressure, most likely. And I can’t thank you enough for trouble shooting my laptop and updating my phone so that I can upgrade my emoji usage. I have been waiting for a ‘crossed fingers’ pictogram for the longest time. You are my I.T Wiz, MY ROCK.

I am thankful that you’re always on my cycle: lazy-day bud one day, hiking and yoga bud the next. Wine buddy one day, I-would-rather-die-than-drink buddy the next. Thank you for listening to stories about the same guys over and over again. Thank you for seeing the best in me. And most of all, thank you for understanding that my God is my compass.

I am always glad to know you are near, your sandals thumping behind me.

I don’t hate sports

May you find community wherever you go. A special circle of mutual affinity. Our rituals: bowing before we begin, slapping our gloves together in a congratulatory manner after each round. We thank our partners. Let’s make that a practice always. Thank you. Thank you.

***

I made a new friend at a Muay Thai class the other day. Her name is Ava. She’s got more stamina than me, more grit. I gave up after the thirtieth kick. Fifty just wasn’t going to happen. It’s been a while since exercise has made me want to vomit- it was a close call.

***

I love yoga and kickboxing because I’ve learned firsthand that with consistency, I get results. The more PROGRESS I see (I’m obsessed). No wonder people are addicted to the gym life; it’s so rewarding. Gradually, you realize you don’t need to take as many breaks between punches. You can do more than five pushups. Your back stretches further, your legs don’t strain. It’s easy, you’re a little bored, you burn for the next challenge. And your arms are more toned, your shoulders broader. You’ve shaped yourself physically- a tangible marker of progress. I’ve always loved that one can guess what sports people do from their physique. Broad shoulders, slim waist, muscular legs: swimmer. Well defined calves, skinny frame: tennis. Big and burly, bulbous arms and chest: rugby. You literally build and shape yourself from your commitment and training. It’s empowering.