Introducing N. To My Mother in Heaven

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Introducing N. To My Mother In Heaven

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Hey, Mom, How are things up in heaven?………………What?!……………They play bingo up there?

Look, I’m calling you to tell you I met this girl……………Yes, another girl…………….But she is different. You will like her……….Yes, I know I said this before, but she is special……………..Yeah, I know I’ve said this, too…………,,,…Are you rolling your eyes?

How is she different? Well, first she is very smart…………….Hey, what do you mean I don’t like smart girls?……………….Yeah, sure I’ll name you a few. How about er……………er………………then, there was…………….SIGH……………… Okay, okay, I get your point.

Well, she is beautiful, a talented poet and speaks 6 languages. Yeah 6…………………No Ma, Spanish isn’t one of them…………..The whole world doesn’t have to speak Spanish…………………Yes, I am teaching her.

Her name is Nandita. …………….. No, she isn’t Cubana………………. Yeah, her name ends with “ita” but that doesn’t mean she is Latina.

Jesus Christ, Mom. Yes, she eats rice………………………..Ooops, sorry about that. Hope the big guy didn’t hear me.

You always said laughter and love are the things that matter most. You always told me love is sacrificing the “me” for the “we.” Nandita believes that, too.

No, I haven’t met her yet…………… Hay, Dios Mio………… Tragedia??? This is not a tragedy.

The heartbreaking part is not that I haven’t met her yet; it is the fact that you never will…….,,………How will Nandita know what a wonderful mother you were? How will you know what a great wife she will be?

Sniffle, sniffle…………….No, Ma, I am cutting up some onions.

Yes, I brush after every meal.

Thank you for your blessings. It really means so much.

I miss you, too.

The Lonely Author: Up, Close, and Personal

The Lonely Author: Up, Close, and Personal

Introduction: The Beach Boy
What do you say about a man who is supposedly lonely and seriously lovely, but whom no one has ever seen or heard?

the lonely author

That he doesn’t exist beyond your imagination? Oh but he does! And I will tell you all about him today.

So, ladies and ladies (since he is such a ladies man), it is my absolute pleasure to introduce you to the real person behind the mysterious beach boy picture AKA The Lonely Author, as seen and heard exclusively day after day, every day, through my naked eyes and ears and experienced first hand by my loving heart and spongy mind.

Chapter 1: The Lonely Author Uncensored
Eyes: So let’s start with his EYE, shall we? He has dark eyes – very expressive and mischievous. If there is anyone I would describe as having laughing eyes, it would be him. He cannot see well with one eye (maybe too much of winking at women in the past caused the damage, who knows?) but that does nothing to take away his 20/20 vision of love and affection. Anyone who wishes to know more about how his eyes blink, his pupils dilate etc. may please read “My Brown-eyed Love”. Shit, sorry I got carried away. I swear I am not trying to promote my blog here. To hell with my blog. This is about him. Focus, Girl (chiding myself)!

Physique: He is tall, well-built, perfect to go with his macho image as the universal protector of all possible damsels in distress. Who hasn’t heard of his legendary “Soar, Baby, Soar” (rhetorical question, this!). I never really was a damsel in distress, just so you know. I was the damsel under duress when he and I first met three years ago. Now I am the brunette in killer heels but that’s a different story. Suffice to say, he has changed his stance to “Click, Baby, Click”

Ears: Nibbleable (urban dictionary yeah!). Need I say more? What? I pay attention to details. I’m not going into his nose, eyebrows, tongue and forehead, so chill! Oh wait, I remembered – I’ve extensively talked about his tongue in one of my poems, maybe two. Very metaphorically of course. I’m a poet, give me some credit.

Mouth, Lips, Teeth: His lips? Shapely, full and rose-tinted. He has never smoked in his life. Na-ah. His teeth are quite perfect and very white. He brushes twice a day, such a good boy! He was approached by Colgate once to model for their diamond shine range but he turned down the offer because he was offended at the preposterous suggestion of smiling for money. Confused Colgate then asked him if he’d model for them for free, to which he got livid and made it clear that his smile was not cheap. The discussions ended up becoming a toothache for Colgate. Meanwhile, he changed his toothpaste brand to Pepsodent. He has a terrible sweet tooth though and I even know which particular tooth that is. Again, details, you guys! Ok I was bullshitting here but you got my point, yeah? But he does have nice sparkly teeth and a very warm smile. No kidding. He keeps Oreos in a mason jar and loves to chomp on those when we are video-talking. Watching him eat always makes me hungry. And that is what maketh our nights of Poetry, Pepsi and Popcorn.

Hair (on his head, I clarify): no parting, swept back, salt and pepper. Drool! He uses Loreal. Because he’s worth it! He usually keeps himself clean shaven (facial hair, what did you think?) unless of course he deliberately wants to sport the shabby rugged look, just to appear sexier than he already is (very Robert Downing Jr.-ish, you know).

Hands: soft like a baby’s. He prides himself on his hands. Don’t tell him I told you that. The day I feel his hands (and I will), there will be a sequel to this post, I promise. Well manicured nails.

Legs: strong, muscular, (he ran track in school and college) and hairy of course. What do you expect, he’s a man! And a Cuban at that.

Chest: slightly hairy and large. It houses a big heart after all……
Don’t expect me to describe his nipples. Jeez!

I better stop right here before I get carried away and start talking about other parts of his gorgeous body. So umm, let’s talk about his other umm stuff. His voice for one.

Chapter 2: The Lonely Author: Deciphered and Decoded
Voice: I have written poems about the way he talks. God, he can talk, this man! From a minimum of 1 hour everyday to 4000 clocks, depending on what day of the week it is, we talk about anything and everything. I basically enjoy watching his lips move and eyes shine as he tells me stories, events, anecdotes, dreams, hopes, beliefs, his grocery list and so on. He was not joking when he wrote in one of his poems that he is the man who never lets me sleep. Thank God for Fridays! But the record of our longest call is 11.5 hours which has culminated in this prose piece that you are reading. Anyway, enough of how much he dotes on me. Let’s talk about the technical aspects of his voice. He’s got a deep raspy voice which surprisingly reaches crazy alto summits when he is conversing with me. The joy and excitement gets the better of his baritone, I daresay. Oh and he uses a lot of umms and aahs and uh-uhs in his diction. And he does say ‘Nai-ce’ a lot. Also, “you know what”. The way he says somme-in is to die for. He always opens his conversations with me by saying “Hello Beautiful” and his sentences often begin with “Can I ask you a question”? Unless of course, the other person is someone other than me because he usually is the one with all the answers. But my personal favorite line/moment is when he whispers “I do. I do”. So I tend to ask him a lot of questions that are bound to be answered in “I Dos”. He laughs a LOT. Especially when I mimic him. Speaking of laughter, he is the only person I know who has this wonderful insane ability to laugh at himself. I make so much fun of him it is not funny and he revels in it which is just so adorable.

Mind: The most-underrated aspect of him. And to not talk about his brilliant mind would be an insult to his intelligence. He is a highly intelligent man, not just the regular smart kind. His mind is a treasure island of philosophies, knowledge, information, intellect, humour and wit. He has been a teacher, a banker, a human resources manager, and, believe it or not, a child actor/model and has worked with Hollywood biggies such as Pacino, DeNiro, Redford etc.
He is awesome in science and math, the two things that scare the living daylights out of me. The kindness in him doesn’t let him, but take my word for it, he speaks sarcasm better than he speaks Spanish which is his first language. We laugh a lot about it. He likes to keep himself abreast of all news and is on top of current affairs. He has a keen interest in history, although his major was Economics and is extremely good at finances. He dislikes discussing politics and avoids it like the plague. He is so good with dates it would impress you. He even reminds me about my dates/appointments etc. He also has this amazing presence of mind where he will talk to me like a scatterbrain jumping between topics but if I ask him some particular thing he told me five minutes back, he will be spot on. It baffles me, I tell you. A very meticulous and organized person except when it comes to his dresser (which looks like it’s been hit by a hurricane), he likes to plan ahead. That explains why he loves to play chess. The only mind game that interests him. His favorite quote: life is a game of chess, not checkers.

Charm: Do I need to even talk about it? Ladies, give me a cheer here please. He can keep 4 different people engaged in 8 different conversations at the same time and still make those people feel like they are the only ones he is talking to. If that is not serious talent, I don’t know what is. And wait, I’m not saying he bullshits you. He is just so naturally good at making people feel nice and importantly, he does it sincerely. The gift of the multitasking gab, you could say. Not everyone’s blessed with it, us lesser mortals have to live without it. Sigh!

Heart: with all the reputation of being the most incorrigible flirt the blogging world has ever seen, Andrew is in essence his mother’s son through and through with a heart that can only be second to Mother Teresa’s. He will paint rainbows in your heart with the rain in his eyes and won’t even let you know. Because believe it or not, he lives in constant perpetual pain. Literal. And he never lets it be known. He is extremely emotional and lets down his guards with me when he feels vulnerable. Yes, I have seen him cry, more than once. Not going with the macho image, no? I think he is man enough to break down and tell me when things gets too much and he wants to share his troubles with me.

Oh and the flirting has stopped, have you noticed? It’s been a while. He just doesn’t feel the need and the desire to flirt around anymore, he tells me. I believe him.

Chapter 3: Tangled Facts about The Lonely Author
• He is NOT a Casanova but he has better shades of Christian Gray than Gray himself
• He serenades me when I give him the cold shoulder (he does, he does)
• He hates having himself clicked but he makes sure to send me selfies for my breakfast
• He loathes talking on the phone but he detests it even more when it’s time for us to hang up
• He is a smooth talker but if you know how to say the right things, he will stutter more beautifully than Shakespeare in love

Epilogue: The Man who Loves
All said and done, I have been fortunate enough to get to know Andrew the way I do. And to be loved by him the way he does. Everyday has been a remarkable discovery about this man who is only assumed about. And it will not be a hyperbole if I say no one knows him the way I do – his deepest darkest secrets, his weirdest fantasies, his fears, his real life, his blogging world, just about everything. I hope you will all believe me when I say this post did not come about out of some arrogance or superficial reason, rather, it came about out of love for the man who knows how to love in all senses of the word, the man who has turned the Lady Pathos in me to Lady Bliss. It took us three years to be where we are. It will take us longer to be where we wish to be. Or maybe never. And it takes a lot to write about this when the world has not been kind to us. But you know what (in Andrew’s style), love doesn’t always need a name.

This was just a glimpse I have given you of the mystery man who goes by the name The Lonely Author. But I will not talk more than what I did because honestly, there are things he and I will never share with others. Some things are sacrosanct.

If there are any questions/comments about The Lonely Author or even about Andrew, I would be happy to answer for both of them. If not, I’ll still smile that I wrote this. He deserves it. Like I said, he is worth it. Thanks to the L’Oréal Shampoo that he uses which not only keeps his mane lustrous but fragrant as well. And that fragrance and shine percolates right down to your blogs when he stops by.

Thank you for your patience.

Living La Vida Loca

Signing off with love, until next time
Nandita aka A Tangle of Weeds.

Eternity

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Eternity

“Time can heal the broken heart, but it can also hurt the waiting heart.”

Darius rested underneath a weeping willow. His disheartening journey has lasted longer than time.

Five thousand years ago, he adored the woman he protected; the Pharaoh’s young bride. It started innocently, exchanging forbidden smiles and glances.

Until, one day Aziza lost her balance and fell into his granite arms.

A week later they feasted on grapes; as they made love on the banks of the Nile beneath the radiant moonlight.

News of their secret romance reached the Pharaoh.

Pharaoh ordered his magician, “Poison my disloyal wife. Reward her with the gift of eternal reincarnation.”

Beaten within moments of death, Darius pleaded with the Pharaoh. “I prefer to die a thousand deaths than to live a day without my beloved Aziza.”

“Let Darius live forever. He can suffer through eternity watching her die ten thousand deaths.”

Through the centuries, Darius walked the Earth alone. He found her soul in women of different colors and lands. He buried her a thousand times.

Since Columbus discovered the New World he has yet to see her.

He may never find her again.

Time can heal the broken heart, but it can also hurt the waiting heart.

Image taken from Google.

I posted “The Pharaoh’s Bride” back in June 2016.

During my absence from blogging, I fleshed out this short story. Working in small blocks of time, I researched the ancient Egyptians and reincarnation.

In my manuscript, Darius, the immortal, attempts to help Angelo (a grumpy war veteran dying of cancer) find his long lost love, while sharing his tale of undying love.

Currently, I am ten chapters deep into the story.

The Stripper (100 Words)

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The Stripper  (100 Words)

The seductive stripper swayed onto the stage.

Her motions were as smooth as her glistening abdomen. Oscillating hips accentuated her beguiling figure.

Every graceful movement concealed her pain. Her sensual gyrations confirmed her loneliness.

Dancing to forget, she was poetry in motion.

She offered her nakedness to their lustful eyes.

Her sad eyes mirrored her dark and barren life.

Loud music reverberated in her heart like thunderbolts echoing in a cave. The songs failed to silence the cries inside her head.

The stripper communicated her passions through dance.

Unveiling her body to so many.

She revealed her soul to none.

 

The Geometry of Women

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The Geometry Of Women

Don’t need to be a mathematician or
genius to postulate on the female form.
For women were meant to have curves.
So it doesn’t matter from which side
we admire their figures, I am certain
every view will provide a right angle.

The delicious arc of a wicked smile and
the symmetry of their glorious spheres
always intersect the very heart of me.
The smoothness of their planes, their
triangle, and perfect orbs in back will
keep any nerd or gent perpendicular.

Nothing sends me on wild tangents
as the breathtaking and captivating
beauty of the geometry of women.

Serial (100 Words)

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Serial  (100 Words)

Detective Jake Monroe examined the bloody crime scene. All the expected signs were there; the slashed throat, the look of terror in her eyes, and missing shoes.

The Riverside Killer struck again.

“Number five is a blonde?”

He turned to look at his partner Max who entered the hotel room.

“Do we know her name?”

“Let me see,” Jake scooped up her purse to search for her ID.

“You must be relieved.”

Jake sighed. “Was that necessary?”

Max shrugged. “Hey, at least this time there’s no evidence tying her to you.”

Opening her purse, Jake found a photo of himself.

Aftermath (100 Words)

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Aftermath  (100 Words)

 

Faith thought about adding the word “less” to her name.

She had no idea who started the war. It didn’t matter. Nothing remained; just wreckage and ashes.

Days since she saw another living human, she shaded her eyes from the dust clouds.

What kind of God would allow this to happen? The same sadistic, bastard who let her survive.

Giggling.

Faith frowned. Entering an overturned subway, she pushed a corpse with her boot and found a baby.

“Hey, how will I know your name baby girl?”

Someone had pinned a folded note to the baby’s blouse.

She read it.

“Hope.”

 

Photo taken from Pinterest.