Escapist
How to be an escapist in the all-seeing 24 x 7 internet.
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My love is the thorn on the red, red rose
If love were a poem, I’d be an ode to your being.
If love were a song, I’d be a serenade to you.
If love were a painting, I’d be a blind artist. -
55 Words: Pot Of Gold
A short tale in 55 words. Her parents say that she was born talking. Then she discovered writingEnglish grammar compositionsStories and poetryLetters and emailsChats and instant messagingSMSes, Orkut scrapsResumes and reports Then she stumbled onto bloggingAnd anonymous postingEven editing and deletingAnd much later, private publishing But silence is yet to…
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Spec-tacularly mad
I have a weakness for men in spectacles. Quite mad for them, in fact. Maybe I associate that with intelligence. Maybe it’s my Electra Syndrome.
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The Green-Eyed Scapegoat Of Jealousy
I explore the difference between ownership and connection, and the destructive nature of jealousy compared to the compromises of possessiveness.
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55 Words: Gold-Digger
A short tale in 55 words about value, money and worth.
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Intoxication
The thought that everyone’s expecting me to be cheery, happy, and ebullient…usually has the reverse effect on me. Intoxication, it’s not fun.
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55 Words: Afterglow
A 55 word tale about kissing.
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Tweety and Sylvester
When I was a kid I loved sparrows. I wouldn’t say all nature as that’s plants and birds. Not all birds. Not crows…I still hate them…there’s an annoying one (or several perhaps…damn they all look the same!) that serenades me at my window at exactly 7 a.m. on a Sunday…
