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The Cloudcutter Chronicles

A sister for my soul, a wind for my sails, a reader for my tales. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I thought that I was done with you. I thought I’d used you to the last drop. Thrown away the tiny vial that you came in. Burned the bristles of the hard brush. I’d wielded to make something of you. To give you definition, a sense of purpose. But you show up once more fumbling. At my doorstep with your boring existence. And feeble attempts to speak my tongue. When we both know you have no ear for it. With a shell har...

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The Cloudcutter Chronicles | thecloudcutter.blogspot.com Reviews

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A sister for my soul, a wind for my sails, a reader for my tales. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I thought that I was done with you. I thought I’d used you to the last drop. Thrown away the tiny vial that you came in. Burned the bristles of the hard brush. I’d wielded to make something of you. To give you definition, a sense of purpose. But you show up once more fumbling. At my doorstep with your boring existence. And feeble attempts to speak my tongue. When we both know you have no ear for it. With a shell har...

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The Cloudcutter Chronicles | thecloudcutter.blogspot.com Reviews

https://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com

A sister for my soul, a wind for my sails, a reader for my tales. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I thought that I was done with you. I thought I’d used you to the last drop. Thrown away the tiny vial that you came in. Burned the bristles of the hard brush. I’d wielded to make something of you. To give you definition, a sense of purpose. But you show up once more fumbling. At my doorstep with your boring existence. And feeble attempts to speak my tongue. When we both know you have no ear for it. With a shell har...

INTERNAL PAGES

thecloudcutter.blogspot.com

1

Captivity | The Cloudcutter Chronicles

http://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com/2015/07/captivity.html

They begin as clean smooth lines. Beautifully etched along the surface. Then twist and turn as a slow rumble. Starts to rise behind the shadows. Before taking on a new rhythm beneath. The dense earth and its compelling movements. There isn’t enough time to adjust and. Move into a comfortable position. There is no time and there is no inclination. The only thing that seems to have a heartbeat. Is your innate ability to grow into these walls. To blend into the thick cavity housed inside. It’s all you...

2

Archive for October 2011

http://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html

The ten thousand things that rise and fall. My city finally feels like home again. Even though the weather reports might say otherwise, in my mind, the air just feels cooler, crisper a. But I always thought that I'd see you again. An old friend died around 4 years back and I only found out recently. It feels so strange and Im not sure how to react. The only thin. View my complete profile. Its been too long, she says. My muse, she waits. The ten thousand things that rise and fall. Gratitude week - Post 1.

3

Archive for March 2015

http://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html

The words we choose to utter have a curious way of defining us. But sometimes all they turn out to be are fillers for the silence betwee. You call me your Venus Girl as I tug at you with these familiar words at first, and then reel you into the hidden worlds that they explo. Why are you so vague, they ask. Are you night or day? Are you normal or insane? Do you even have a brain? View my complete profile. Its been too long, she says. My muse, she waits. Gratitude week - Post 1. Gratitude week - Post 4.

4

Archive for April 2015

http://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

Why don’t we realize what this beef ban really means? It’s not just about banning the killing of and eating the flesh of cows, the cows th. Granny, Mangoes and Me. I made a Goan prawn curry today and added raw mangoes to make it extra tangy. Ive always loved raw mangoes in fish and prawn currie. From mindless thoughts to a thoughtless mind, its a long journey, and, salvation cannot be reached on speed dial. So you walk the s. When You Weigh Yourself Tonight. How much of you is sorrow and how much pain?

5

Lost in translation | The Cloudcutter Chronicles

http://thecloudcutter.blogspot.com/2015/07/lost-in-translation.html

I thought that I was done with you. I thought I’d used you to the last drop. Thrown away the tiny vial that you came in. Burned the bristles of the hard brush. I’d wielded to make something of you. To give you definition, a sense of purpose. But you show up once more fumbling. At my doorstep with your boring existence. And feeble attempts to speak my tongue. When we both know you have no ear for it. Leave before you realize your error. What you thought to be a warm welcome. View my complete profile.

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abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com

I'migrant: Off to Florida!

http://abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com/2015/12/off-to-florida.html

From here to there and everywhere. Monday, 14 December 2015. Guyana, Dec. 6. 2015. Stretch, yawwwn, switch on de Dinosaur TV (no, dat ain't a brand). De man with de funny hairstyle is saying something about banning Muslims going to America. He can't be serious! America can lose money," I think, then I suck my teeth in one amused, dismissive way and continue packing. Huh! Not even dat man can diminish my excitement as I try to decide what to wear to travel. Hand-and-machine stitched denim skirt. Joey, I u...

abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com

I'migrant: December 2015

http://abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com/2015_12_01_archive.html

From here to there and everywhere. Saturday, 26 December 2015. Look, Shafi, look! The moon," I called to my 4-year-old nephew as we stepped outdoors on Christmas Eve. The light poured through a dark web of branches and leaves, and I twisted and turned to see all of the moon. Shalikum, moon," my little nephew said, meaning, Assalamualaikum, moon. Peace to you in the name of God, moon. And I thought about the moon being full on the night of Youman Nabi, the birthday of Muhammed (peace), which coincided wit...

abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com

I'migrant: Whose moonlight...?

http://abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com/2015/12/whose-moonlight.html

From here to there and everywhere. Saturday, 26 December 2015. Look, Shafi, look! The moon," I called to my 4-year-old nephew as we stepped outdoors on Christmas Eve. The light poured through a dark web of branches and leaves, and I twisted and turned to see all of the moon. Shalikum, moon," my little nephew said, meaning, Assalamualaikum, moon. Peace to you in the name of God, moon. And I thought about the moon being full on the night of Youman Nabi, the birthday of Muhammed (peace), which coincided wit...

abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com

I'migrant: June 2016

http://abeedeesoverseas.blogspot.com/2016_06_01_archive.html

From here to there and everywhere. Monday, 13 June 2016. I'm so sorry, Orlando. To all of you gleefully saying that it was a "Muslim" who did the shooting in Orlando, and are poking fun at Muslims now, please remember why Muhammad Ali refused to go to war. There are about 1.something billion Muslims in the world. You want to tell me that all these 1.something billion people are violent? Have you looked within yourself, have you examined your own actions, words? No Of course not. Neena maiya (guyana gyal).

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: September 2010

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2010_09_01_archive.html

The files of agent green glass. Wednesday, September 22, 2010. Make up sex and break up sex have made the urban dictionary. What I want to know is when will wake up sex get its due? Posted by agent green glass. Sunday, September 19, 2010. Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed. This is crazy, she said. This, you dufus. The sex. Fool All we’ve done is have sex. Like rabbits. Okay, I like rabbits. Damn, you think this tottering old bed will take so much action? Let’s break it. Yeah, like your aunt.

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: no men were harmed in the making of this post

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2011/04/no-men-were-harmed-in-making-of-this.html

The files of agent green glass. Thursday, April 7, 2011. No men were harmed in the making of this post. Okay, I’m back. And thank you anon, for your concern. But no I’m not dead. So on to more interesting matters. Like my morbid attachment to reality shows. In fact the worse they are, the more I’m addicted to them. This continues till it looks like their eyes will pop and they will most certainly need the services of an ambulance if not undertaker. Oddly entertaining it is. Posted by agent green glass.

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: July 2010

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2010_07_01_archive.html

The files of agent green glass. Friday, July 30, 2010. I cut my hair. Snipped the length and the curls out. And realised two things. I feel compelled to be cool at the salon. I also feel compelled to be cool at the doctor/dentist/tattoo parlour. Anything that involves pain or doubt or scares me, I behave strangely masochistic. Dentist: “ I’m gonna need to extract two teeth.”. Me (tonsils shivering): “ha, ha, extract four.”. Doctor: “You will now be wheeled into the OT”. Posted by agent green glass. Flori...

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: June 2011

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html

The files of agent green glass. Monday, June 13, 2011. Fuck, fuck, fuck. All I can think about is why didn’t I buy the Husain sketch? It was going for a lakh five years back. Not a particularly pretty sketch. Just a small charcoal squiggly thing which I think one of his grandkids did at school and he signed for a lark. I should have broken the bank and bought it. But as usual, my middle class desire to watch my Post Office account grow at the speed of a snail shitting, dashed all my dreams. Will the Kare...

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: August 2010

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2010_08_01_archive.html

The files of agent green glass. Saturday, August 28, 2010. If i was a colour, it would be a mottled purple. What the fuck is the difference between house and trance and techno? No dude, don’t get me wrong. I like the stuff. You can stomp your feet and bob your head like crazy. But it all sounds the same. Slightly trippy, and always surprising to hear lyrics. What the fuck is an ecopolitical spiritual mentor? What the fuck is with sports? What the fuck is with these idiots? Yes you. Are we good? 90% popul...

agentgreenglass.blogspot.com

the files of agent green glass: January 2011

http://agentgreenglass.blogspot.com/2011_01_01_archive.html

The files of agent green glass. Monday, January 24, 2011. Preschool in a grumpy lady’s living room. Which overlooks my office kitchen window. What your mother is getting too rich or what? Clothes store. Two accented women. But my arms look fat? Shit, I really like it. But I look fat. No, no, you don’t. La Senza Trial Room, girl on phone. Giggle. Idiot. Giggle. What will you tell your mother, why am I there? Oh god. Then she’s going to kn. Ow for sure what we’re up to. Giggle. Idiot. Giggle. I said bye to...

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The Cloudcutter Chronicles

A sister for my soul, a wind for my sails, a reader for my tales. Tuesday, July 21, 2015. I thought that I was done with you. I thought I’d used you to the last drop. Thrown away the tiny vial that you came in. Burned the bristles of the hard brush. I’d wielded to make something of you. To give you definition, a sense of purpose. But you show up once more fumbling. At my doorstep with your boring existence. And feeble attempts to speak my tongue. When we both know you have no ear for it. With a shell har...

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