Zandi's musings.

Friday, March 07, 2014


Working memory
pales in comparison
to a sticky note

Friday, November 15, 2013


were the words that followed me around, whether my eyes were open or closed, threatening to unhinge me fully, and even though that was what I really needed in a different area, it would not help me to unhinge mentally.

It was a funny situation really, sitting on the bus, wondering how many people are desperate to get home before they void themselves in their immaculate work suits, knowing that no matter how long I spend on the bus, I will not have that problem.

The street names and traffic lights blur into one, one long tunnel passing the bus through, final station in mind, a short recycling later, the bus returns and travels through the route again. 

How easy to forget, and how shocked our worldview, when the bus stops, and refuses to move, no matter how much fuel it has, and how insistent the driver is.

The fewer words we spend on the passengers the better. A collection of rejects of society, too worn to care, to downtrodden to resist, slowly making their way to their final destinations, with nothing left in mind but simple step by step existence. But what would happen, if the next step was cancelled? Then surely, even the meek would awaken.

I lean my head on the glass to steady myself, trying to visualize the journey, to help my little bus along, but all I feel is a void, a painful absence of pain congregating in my belly, with a certain knowledge that something has to give.

The doctor was cheerfully confident that it was the bus that will have to give, but I feel that I will give in first, slowly expanding until the skin gives in, followed by the muscles, and then the bus takes a detour to the final destination thanks to road works and unhealthy eating habits.

The cool glass soothes me a bit, and I start noticing, for the first time, the drains. I never really saw them before; only knowing they were there intellectually, but never really Knowing them, and I start to wonder what a world there exists, under the drains, imagining the beings and unbeings existing in the stripes of light filtered from the world above.

What would like be, eternally submerged in darkness, rejected by and rejectful of the world above, aware only of the smells and sounds but rarely the sights few are aware of, pushing through the dark membranes further and further into blackness, slowly dissolving your own boundaries with those of the outside world, becoming one with the bleak blackness of endless time…

Existing only in frenzied imagination of children and dreams of adults, and avoided by dogs and voided on by dogs and taking everything the world has to give and transforming it into more of yourself until you are everything that is left when nothing is left.

“Mommy, mommy, what is wrong with that man?”
“Shh honey, he’s fallen asleep don’t disturb him.”
“But he smells bad mommy!”

Friday, February 01, 2013

who knows

I once sat on a 3d structure
and it became 2d
Since then I have been left to wonder
how to unseat myself
and turn it back into 3d
and to take one step further
into higher dimensions

Monday, August 13, 2012


"... and this kiln is used to dry any pottery you make with temperatures over 1,000 degrees Celsius." were the words that burned themselves into my mind and petrified my young self. Sitting in the dusty attic of my old school, all I could think about was the temperature, feeling the heat despite the cold autumn day the kiln sitting unused through the long summer months.

Atavistic fear grabbed me and I could not move a muscle, my mind stretching into that fateful future day when a pot clumsily crafted by my unartistic hands will start its journey into the kiln, dragging me along by the burning fingers fried to the pot by the heat produced by the kiln.

The excruciating pain was hyper-real the awareness of my body melting away together with my fingernails, each burning hair a departing jolt into my nose.

I remember my focus shrinking into a tunnel of awareness pinpointed on the kiln to the exclusion of all other sensations, the closed gaping door of the kiln became my reality. I could feel the numbing of the petrification spreading, pain in reverse, slowly sapping away any experience of reality until the kiln was the only existence.

Kiln and the fear, the fatalistic fear of the prey, safe in the knowledge that it has been bested, and that the predator will feast tonight.

The meditation was interrupted by the teacher calling everyone to get ready for the next class.

I remember the breaking of the spell, the sudden rush of reality, reclaiming its rightful place in the corners of my mind and the fragmented memories of the kiln haunting me for days.

We never did get to use it after all.

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

What is frowned upon down here
is often not frowned  upon up there
and yet we continue to exist
as a continuum of vague impressions
everyone understanding their neighbour
and hating their neighbour's neighbour

Friday, January 28, 2011


I went for a walk
myself and I
under the pale neolithic sky
that spans the cerebrum
of the human ape

I was so lost that I forgot
to open my mouth to speak
and yet I was heard
by myself and I

It is enchanting to be here
if I do say so myself
under the pleasantly constructed sky
reflecting the twinkles of my eyes

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Strength of Strings

Dreams, dreams never change, they may wear a different coat or dye their hair, but their rawness remains. You can tell when you are in their embrace, when their soft fingers pluck your pupils and lead you to see what they want you to see. Like a television without a remote, dreams tend to show us things we do not really want to see, but are true nonetheless.

Creatures with no fixed abode, dreams flicker across the celebrated cortex, little Ronin slices of nonexistent pasts, presents and futures, trying to draw attention to the fact that the world outside is created as much as the one inside.

With this mindset, I invite you to open the window and look outside, look straight ahead and then try to sense the peripherals, things to the left of your focus area, things to the right, and if you are adventurous even things above and below. Let me know if any of the Ronin appear.