Reading Companion page is almost up and running with my first ਛਲੇਡਾ Bot . This is my *Urban-comic version of Beaton book, *a genre I feel more and more comfortable with now.

Clicking on the first cat will take you to a google search query, Asking about Ms Leanne Beaton. You can follow the discussion from thereon, if you will. I will be updating the page every now and then.

Excerpt: Passages in weariness

ਰੱਬ ਦੇ ਘਰ ਸੰਨ ਲੱਗੀ ਏ

ਰੱਬ ਦਾ ਘਰ ਰੁੜ੍ਹਨੋ ਹੜ੍ਹਨੋ ਨਹੀਂ ਰੁਕਦਾ
ਮੇਰਾ ਘਰ ਭਰਨੋ ਨਹੀਂ ਹਟਦਾ
“ਦੂਰ-ਕਿਤਾ” ਮੇਰੇ ਘਰ ਵੜਿਆ।

* footnotes: the other side of ਰੋਜ਼ ਮੁੱਖ ਵਾਕ ਮੇਰੇ ਘਰ ਤੁਰ ਕੇ ਆਂਦਾ ਹੈ। Idea existed before the event. To be is just another iterative affirmation/ ਪਹਲਾ ਕੰਮ ਹੋ ਹਟਿਆ, ਦੂਜਾ ਮੁੱਕਣਾ ਨਹੀਂ।

Excerpt: Passages in weariness

A woman with blue, laced underwear under thin white shorts, walking her dog/

A woman with blue, laced underwear under thin white shorts, walking her beautiful dog. Her underwear looks purple if looked from inside/

More people walk their dogs down my street this spring. Some of them must wear blue underwear/ 

Reading Terry Eagleton’s “The Marxist Sublime”. I find the process of cooking therapeutic but soon enough I drift far from the base. It tastes delicious but by this time, I don’t know if to call it “That”, or “that” of That? I cook anyway. प्यार को प्यार ही रहने दो, कोई नाम न दो. I am wasting my time beautifully.

Such has been Marx’s craft that Althusser and and Eagleton’s writing inherit. I personally favor the craft first, then a theory for it as topping.

ਪਰਸਲੰਨ edition (15 copies) with early-access to Audiobook: Now available on request.

Is this book for me? (Opens in new window)

Comes with hand bound/ hard bound copy and a painted 12” x 24” comic panel. None of the copies or panels are similar. A few panels have personal emails printed, and all of the panels carry different chapters from the book arranged differently.

The book in this edition, comes with new proof-reading and annotations with pen or pencil, which will be printed with corrections and additions in proper public edition in the future, if at all.

Disclaimer: Leo’s fur is also distributed differently across all bindings. My deficiencies in craft of book binding are compensated with aesthetics. A happy ending in long term relationships not guaranteed. Audiobook recordings still in process, will be delivered episodically.

ਜ਼ਬਰਦਸਤੀ donations : $450 (+ $50 Flat-rate Air shipping anywhere). It takes 10-12 days to forge one copy + 12-15 days to arrive, depending upon the destination. Contactors contact the Contactorator HERE.

I have to go out and sit with Leo in our drive way when he insists. Today, it smelled like slightly roasted dust and cars drove faster. Then it rained. Not for water, but the effect of;  slapping sounds and the drive way being marbled, Chips ਵਾਲਾ ਫ਼ਰਸ਼, we used to call it. ਐਵੇਂ ਦੜ-ਦੜ ਨਹੀਂ, ਪਰਕ-ਪਰਕ। Some spots lit up, while others turned off. Next second; same people but different spots. "Now this happened. Then that happened". A film screen in my drive way.

I wrote a lullaby for him, yesterday. Might record it later.

ਚੂਹੀਆਂ ਖਾਣੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਦਾਲ ਤੇ ਮਾਣੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਕੌਲੀ ਚ ਭੁਜੀਆ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਗਾਸੂ ਚ ਪਾਣੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ।

ਘੁੱਗੀਆਂ ਫੜਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਡੋਗੀ ਤੋਂ ਡਰਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਮੈਂਤੋਂ ਨੀ ਡਰਦੀ ਲਾਡੀਆਂ ਕਰਦੀ
ਮੇਰਾ ਕਰਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ।

ਗਾਜਰ ਮੂਲੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਕੂਲ਼ੀ-ਕੂਲ਼ੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਚੋਰੀ ਹੱਸਦੀ, ਢੁਈ ਵਿਖਾ ਕੇ
ਦੁੰਬਾ ਘਸਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ।

ਨਿੰਨੀਆਂ ਕਰਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਸੁਪਨਾ ਧਰਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ
ਡੋਗੀ ਤੋਂ ਲੁਕਦੀ,  'ਲਾਂਘਾਂ ਭਰਦੀ
ਸੁਪਨੇ ਚ ਡਰਦੀ ਲੀਓ ਬਿੱਲੀ।

Passages in Weariness

(ਕੀ ਹੋਂਦਾ ਏ) ਸੋਚ ਨਾ ਸਕਣ ਤੋਂ ਬਾਅਦ? Evolution ਤੋਂ ਮੁਕਰ ਕੇ ਪੁੱਠੇ-ਪੈਰੀਂ ਤੁਰ ਪੈਣ ਤੋਂ ਬਾਅਦ? ਪਹਿਲੀ ਵਾਰ ਅੱਗ ਵੇਖਿਆਂ? ਮੁੜ੍ਹ ਬਾਂਦਰ ਨੇੜਿਓਂ ਲੰਘਦਿਆਂ— ਜਿਨ੍ਹੇਂ ਅੱਗ ਲਭ ਲਈ, ਲਾ ਲਈ ਏ? ਮੱਛੀ ਨੂੰ ਮਿੱਟੀ ‘ਤੇ ਘੜੀਸੀਆਂ ਲੈਵੰਦੇ ਵੇਖਦਿਆਂ? ਹਰ ਸ਼ੈਅ ਨੂੰ ਪਾਣੀ ਚੋਂ ਨਿਕਲਦਿਆਂ ਵੇਖਦਿਆਂ, ਹੱਦ ਕਰਦਿਆਂ ਵੇਖਦਿਆਂ?

ਮੁੜਨਾ ਵੀ ਇਕੋ ਪਾੱਸੇ ਤੁਰਨਾ ਹੀ ਹੋਂਦਾ ਏ। ਜੇ ਕੋਈ ਨਾ ਵੇਖਦਾ ਹੋੋਵੇ ਤਾਂ ਆਪਣੀ ਆਂਦਰ ਖਾ ਜਾਓ ਤੇ ਢੂਹੇ ਵਾਲ਼ੇ ਪਾਸਿਓਂ ਨੱਸ ਜਾਓ>>> A short burst, a range of n u m b e r s hurled in one’s own direction. A signal sent out>> and received<< “self validation”. A thought in grief. There’s nothing here but this. 

Stories from Estella

He is not really that long, but stretched by still happening. He takes two AA batteries to assure me;he’s here, I am here, though his both ends disagree. His body is caught up in happening, though his arse and his face have happened fully. If I follow his going end, I never reach anywhere, but if I meet him head on, he never walked. I see him going and coming. I press his left paw and he tells me: continue.

First sketches and a new dream: Notes on Crossing the River

Hard-skinned crawlers born of thirst. Slick with their own sickness, they carry the river inside, light blue water, trapped, moving. They slide over each other, trying to remember.

Do not enter the fish*. If you must touch them, cut. Split the skin. Let the water out. When enough is returned, anger breaks and everything collapses on itself. Even the fish and the river.

* Edit: I think I dreamt snakes, but they keep insisting that they are fishes who migrated to land. More information needed. New drawings have shifted towards फिशनेक .

I cut open my arm.
Who’s there?
Asks who?
Show yourself, Open up.

I roll-on like a mobius strip, and I roll on my stomach. Roll! I roll my Rs and say nothing other than rolled Rs. 

“Rrrrrr-Rrrrrr”.

“Writing is like that”, I was about to say, then writing is just another vulgar tongue.  I hate nothing more than those arrogant bitches who write and plead clemency. Why should a trickster be spared, when everyone rolls on their stomach without making a big deal out of it. One major difference between the two;  writers do not harm themselves only, like those who roll anyway. Writing harms both ways. Why suffer alone? Any contact is a good contact.

Then there are ways one can roll. Some observe their rolls quietly, some sing their Rs. Some sing their Rs so fine, they do not cut anymore. Yet many never miss a chance to misspeak with blunt Rs and bad tunes.

I do not know of many who died of a paper cut but everyone I know has suffered a few, and quietly so. Some contacts are quiet, some announce their Rs. What is done; is being done. Makes no difference.  There’s no getting around the spinning without fixing your gaze on something, anything. Nothing spins in the void.

Today was gentle.

Played ਚਿੜੀ ਉੱਡ-ਕਾਂ ਉੱਡ with Leo (He cheats). A flock of cranes flew over our house. Maude, homeless pothead who sings all day long (everybody loves her) has gained at least ten pounds this winter. She likes everything with everything on it

Got two onions and a bunch of cilantro from Lanzarotte. Saw two earthworms on sidewalk. Didn’t help them today, but it started to rain soon. I am sure they found their way home. Leo is happy.. He went out. Now sitting in the backyard porch, watching rain. Yesterday just was. This one is. Leo and I are one day old on a good day. Everything, and everything on top of it then.