ON VULNERABILITY

I let you in close. I tell you parts of my life that others won’t ever know. I let you see the soft underbelly, the flops, the blunders and dark misery of the night. The shams. The fake glitter, the cheap triumphs. The victories. The gray areas that I peel apart, bit by bit, and gleefully jump on to claim, Columbus-like. The half-baked hypothesis that simmer and froth, raw. The truth behind a goody-two-shoes façade. I tell you what is posturing, and what is not. Sometimes you know it without my having to say it. Maybe when I said something first I waited and watched, marking your responses, but over time the need for this cross-referencing tapered off. Possibly you know me better than anyone else, and so you will know there are parts of me that you will never know, too. Soft underbelly, I said? Maybe I’m right, maybe I’m not. I don’t look back to see if you reciprocate. Sticking my neck out is a choice that I opt for, willingly and in full control of my faculties. Double, or quits.

I write. I put words on paper. I write as I think. Yes, sometimes I think in circles. Sometimes I mumble. I keep away from heavyweight words that I can’t quite pronounce, oh la! That I need to look up, quizzically. I don’t try to play pretend. I proudly italicize words that I use, words of the marketplace and soaring humidity and matchbox homes and traffic-packed streets. Full bodied, with the aroma of flavours, spices, sweat and a whiff of sea breeze. English that preens and postures, with curlicues and appurtenances, leaves me cold. Attempts at foreign accents and appearances of usage, without comfort for, or confident ownership, reminds me of cucumber sandwiches at tea, bobbing curtseys to the Lord of the Manor, and frankly confounds the hell out of me. You may be a cursory reader, or you could have been reading for long. Maybe when I first wrote something first I waited and watched, marking responses and the hit counter. But over time the need for cross-referencing and positive strokes, tapered off. There are spaces within words, words within words, a glimpse at a world that you will never know. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don’t. Hitting the keyboard, putting black on white is a choice that I opt for, willingly and in full control of my faculties. Double, or quits.