Lebarcham (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} kirili) wrote,@ 2008-08-09 17:00:00 |
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May be visiting the british colonial land! I hope nobody says "English Tea" in a non-sarcastic way.
... thought of a man I met in India, a toilet-cleaner in a washroom. But I didn't have any money to give him. I was told that he... hung about, cleaning the loo, but he wasn't employed there.
Anyway. Started painting a painting and wrote a poem.
we were made of the same
And somehow born in the same place, but if with the same luck
And the same schooling and the same people
and the same anger
At the nothing – would you still be you?
Who are you? When they ignore you and marry you off,
When they make you meet suitors and then scare them off
When they use you and beat you and you're only their goods
Then who are you? Where are you? Who lives where you exist?
I'm tired, in that fragile, stupid way of mine
And I'm terrified of you jumping
Or swallowing
Or choking
I'm terrified of you not.
I'm watching the women of the generations before us, with us, and maybe-probably after us
The semen of hate into the cavity of oppression
I'm watching women be born
Through telephone lines
And documentaries
In Hong Kong
Kan kung. As Sri Lanka self-destructs.
Buildings and boredom and opportunity
I'm watching women form women
And the pity for the women, growing into hate as they age
Turning into the women that were their makers
But Sri Lanka's charging a set cost for a kilometre in the three wheelers and people are fighting against torture, against the police
People slowly crawling forwards from vulgarities yelled in the parliament,
Lynching
And maybe one day they'll tear down the love laws too.
Title comes from the book by Arundhati Roy, "The God of Small Things", which is the quite possibly the best thing ever. A contender.
Anyway.
How're you doing?
Take care.
