The Lonely Immortal (Book Excerpt)

The Lonely Immortal (Book Excerpt)

“Are you okay?”

“The souls of the dead see my light. They believe it is their opportunity to reenter our world. It happens every time I enter a cemetery.”

“You can feel them?”

“They pass through me like light through a prism.”

Spirits swirled inside Amani in a whirlpool of ancient scents, tastes, joys, and tears. The haunting pain of unfulfilled dreams from their previous lives pinched his heart. 

Angelo came to a sudden realization.  “This is the closest an immortal can come to feeling death.”

Amani inhaled deeply, longing to breathe in their hopes of a new life, the passions of lovers past, the cold inevitability of death.

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

———–

Cursed to live forever, Amani befriends Angelo, a cranky Vietnam veteran who searches for his long lost love.  Sharing the story of his 5,000 year journey searching for his perpetually reincarnating twin flame, Amani the immortal, learns the true meaning of life from his dying friend.

This manuscript, my notes. and outline, have been registered and are protected by the U.S. Copyright Office (within the Library of Congress). 

The Lonely Immortal . (book excerpt)

The Lonely Immortal (Book Excerpt)

“Are you okay?”

“The souls of the dead see my light. They believe it is their opportunity to reenter our world. It happens every time I enter a cemetery.”

“You can feel them?”

“They pass through me like light through a prism.”

Spirits swirled inside Amani in a whirlpool of ancient scents, tastes, joys, and tears. The haunting pain of unfulfilled dreams from their previous lives pinched his heart.

Angelo came to a sudden realization. “This is the closest an immortal can come to feeling death.”

Amani inhaled deeply, longing to breathe in their hopes of a new life, the passions of lovers past, the cold inevitability of death.

“How do you feel having souls of the dead inside of you?”

“Alive.”


Cursed to live forever, Amani befriends Angelo, a cranky Vietnam veteran who searches for his long lost love. Sharing the story of his 5,000 year journey searching for his perpetually reincarnating twin flame, Amani the immortal, learns the true meaning of life from his dying friend.

This manuscript, my notes. and outline, have been registered and are protected by the U.S. Copyright Office (within the Library of Congress). 

Secret Admirer

Secret Admirer

Sitting at a bar, thoughts of muses, poetry. and loneliness floated alongside the ice cubes in my mojito.

I scribbled an occasional sentence or verse on a napkin because they were napkin worthy, unlike most of my other thoughts which are written on….

A waitress asked what I was doing.

“Writing poetry on a napkin.”

Time passed, my melancholy mood in this crowded bar, did not.

The waitress returned with a carnation. Pointing at an empty booth, she advised me a beautiful blonde was watching me as I drank and wrote. She was the curious person who wanted to know what I was writing.

Just before she left, my secret admirer asked the waitress to deliver the flower with a message.

“Mr. Poet, let this inspire you until the next time we meet for the first time.”

.

This photo is the carnation resting on the footboard of my bed.

Write Your Own Story

Write Your Own Story

This is exactly how I start my blogging day. My coffee mug reminding me I am the author of my life.

I have come to realize that New York and my current lifestyle consume so much of my time, my manuscript goes unattended. Too many friends, ex-girlfriends, parties, and after hours. There is always something fun to do.

With that in mind, on Friday afternoon I flew down Orlando, Florida in search of a new apartment (where I can write in peace). I decided on Central Florida because it is the perfect place to explore the entire state while I decide where I want to plant new roots. That is my birthday gift to myself.

I considered my beloved Miami, but it would only be reliving the same problems I face in New York (see above).

As my close friends know trying new restaurants is my hobby. So, tonight (April 8th), for my birthday, I will be dining at Cuban singer Gloria Estefan’s restaurant Bongos Cuban Cafe.

I will catch up with all of you when I return to blogging next Tuesday.

Have a great week.

I Am A Flame (All You Need Is Love)

 

 

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I Am A Flame

I am a flame
Wrap yourself in my loving warmth
Let my light illuminate your darkness
Do not worry
Tears will never extinguish me
For I am a flame
Glowing for eternity

.

I hope I reached a few of you with these heartfelt words.

This past Monday was Worlds Beatles Day. I wasn’t aware of it until I read a post by my friend Bernadette of Haddon Musing. Please check it out.

TO ALL OF MY LONG LOST FOLLOWERS: If you are reading this, you have been missed. Please accept my warmest and most sincere heartfelt apologies. Sorry, if I let you down. I assure you I will NEVER let ANYONE come between us again.

TO ALL OF MY NEW FOLLOWERS: My blog has always been about writing, poetry, humor, healing and love (in all of its wonderful forms).

Through email and chat, I have built connections and bonds. I have accompanied bloggers through heartbreak, divorce, infidelity, lost family members, illness, and depression. Once, in December of 2015, during a Christmas Eve party I attended, I chatted for almost six hours with a lonely blogger who voiced thoughts of suicide.

I am not a counselor, I am just a good friend you can talk to.

Should you need to get things off your chest, air out some concerns, rant, need advice, or anything else; I am here for you. You can find me here through my blog.

My emails settings have been changed, so you can easily reach me at: thelonelyauthorblog@gmail.com

Since doors have been slammed shut, my heart is open to anyone who needs it. Please, do not be afraid to reach out. We can heal together.

Finally, we should learn from those four young men who came out of Liverpool.
Whether you are living, hurting, or healing……………ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE.

.

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.