Ever dearest Mary,
Timeliness is everything.
Poets continuously defy tenses, gripping on the concept of artistic license as if they are weapon only they can wield, to keep their favorite affliction in a Matrix slow-mo sequence. They are not meant to be shelved, but rather refreshed, they will insist.
These press releases I have been working on need certain evidence of being newsworthy to earn their craved full distribution.
Everyone wants everything to stay beautifully in this big “now.”
Then pause.
Press play. Repeat.
I am guilty of such affliction.
There is nothing wrong with adoring the present tense, but I have always been that guy who took “now” to a date and made a whore out of it. One bruise into another, I stretched my luck to fit that usual romantic notion of being swept off my feet by a pixie dream girl.
To finally claim my own Ramona Flowers, minus the evil exes. A Summer Finn, without the borderline tendencies.
Funny how it took me 5 years after my separation from my ex-wife to realize that I have been longing for a prize that does not exist.
I was simply tired of looking.
Then there, you came into the picture.
What a timely entrance, Mary. A sound engineer could have cued a cringe-inducing Stephen Bishop classic and it would still be as perfect.
7 months into my self-proposed hibernation, I finally fleshed out some courage to say “hi” through chat. Liking your photos and following your blog started to become creepy, I reasoned to myself. A lame ass joke about the Big Bang Theory, and a double entendre about “giving you a ring” sped off our conversations from mundane to mushy.
Do you remember, Mary?
Funny how easily I can shed off that stereotypical machismo that feminists have been preying on for decades when I am with you. And how we are overly passionate for each other’s passion, like it is our second skin.
A lot of records have been played and danced on, and a lot of Buffalo wings have been massacred in the process, and we are still on the roll - a not so usual occurrence in my life.
This made me realize that those bleeding heart poets are right. And yes, maybe those god damn press releases too.
Timeliness is a big part of everything to work, but I don’t need to stretch myself too thinly anymore, because Mary, you are enough for me.
Everything that is “us” has always been about seizing the “now.”
Yes, you may not be Ramona, or even close to Summer (except for that hipster bangs), but I guess I found someone better.
And real.
Ahmad
Showing posts with label heartspace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heartspace. Show all posts
Friday, February 21, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Singkamas
More than the selfie photos we post on Instagram
More than the fats/calories we try to burn
More than the guiltless angel's burgers and other street
foods we eat
More than the fresh buko juice we drink after meals
More than the chords and lyrics we argued when we’re making
music
More than the times I slept in your arms every time we watch
movies at night
More than the countless hair falls we have on my apartment
More than the hotpots we shared on 711
More than the indie gigs we have by request
More than the stored value tickets we lost
More than the happy trips we had with the kids
More that the shameless words of endearment on public
More than the blissful Sundays we attend at my or your
church
More than the Mediterranean foods we tried to cook and puked
afterwards
More than the unlimited shots we spent for my photo
portfolio
More than the great albums we downloaded and shared to each
other
More than the clumsiness you do every day that you never
admit
More than the inside jokes we shared (like the title of this
blog)
More than your awkward hand gestures when you talk
More than your girly tantrums that made me more patient
More than your metaphoric text messages that lingers before
I sleep
More than your reluctant running routine
More than your tight hugs before you go home
More than your random kisses on my forehead
Our overflowing love covers all imperfections.
I want to do more things with you, Mamad.
Happy Anniversary.
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