IRIN de SADE











{November 8, 2009}   I wish I were…

The following are a few things that I have wanted to be in life and just being who I am got in the way of these shelved ambitions. I guess this is the only place that these will ever see light..even though it be of a slightly electrical nature..

1.I wish I were an artist, a painter…well that’s what I used to wish for with all my heart when I was young. To be able to paint so well and with such passion that Van Gogh would blush in shame. I wished to have my own exhibition with my paintings appreciated and hung out for posterity. So I painted and I reflected and time passed and the colors faded,the brushes grew bristle,the world grew older,reality intruded and the unpainted paintings wept in solitude.

2.I wish I were a music director…that’s my next passion. Music. It’s my salvation, my stick when I’m limping,my faithful dog when I’m blind,my tissue when I cry,my friend when I’m down,my expression when I’m dumb. So I wanted to devote my paltry life to its amelioration. I resolved to compose music that would add to the rich alcoves where fellow wanderers drifted in search of peace. But yet again being born where I was music was not an option..at best it could be a companion not an ambition. So my unwritten songs joined the paintings in haunting the recesses of my fallow mind.

3. I wish I were a writer….She writes in beauty,she writes in fame,she writes in fantasy and distressed dames, she writes in love,she writes in faith. Her ramblings fill the sparkling skies,her words spill from pouring eyes, her wings spread wide-she stands poised to fly. Unfortunately I suffered a serious case of verigo and jetlag and decided to stay on terrafirma. Hence the secret words wait in silence to be imprisoned in ink and published in papyrus.

4. I wish I were a dancer…The girl goes dancing there
On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
Escaped from bitter youth,
Escaped out of her crowd,
Or out of her black cloud.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer!

Her toes have stopped twirling,

Her shoes are torn and frayed,

Her body has stopped feeling-

the happy rhythms of  songs played.


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