Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 19

Wrinkly avec grey

                               

           Dearest,Though the structure of ones face make not age as another, it’s important to know and accept we are all getting older.To age gracefully seems painful et most troubling. If I were to write a book on women et their thoughts upon getting old et wrinkly, I fear it still will wound you in many ways.
As I near a deeper maturity, I know that this face will soon have lines as my soul has felt the grief of it all.
We will never stay young. We will not ever stay physically beautiful, but what’s inside is where the beauty lies. Trust me when you are mort et in front of God one day, it’s what you did that matters.   Oui. I felt this yesterday. As I was too occupied to write a thing. I was lost in conversation with my 19 year old college darling.
I couldn’t believe it. Sitting next to her, talking about adult things.
Et I said,Ferrie I feel like 90. She says, “thank God you don’t like it.”If I may, trust me dearest women, look at you from within, because Botox et face injections will not fill your heart.But they will fill the lines. I know it’s very hard, the standards of the world  today is mere fuc3545Y.You don’t have to be a size 0 or a flawless being, perhaps with millions of acorns, that’s not beauty.
Beauty is acceptance.

Look at me doing some good in the world,

WHat the heck. I can’t believe I am 90 now I laugh, but I want to age with spiritual graces, I wanna look at my babies grow old with me, and I wanna love me not my things. Oh the husband Oui, hallo we neeed him!

I shall age With wrinkles, wisdom, knowledge, being fearless strong, mostly healthy. Lately I see such pain that I wonder what the Fudge flocks are we chasing.

Yah good talk.

I am famished as heck,

RS

ps. Excuse the cheeks, y’all THEY got carried  away,  I thought I was going to be in a movie, with a fox chasing moi

With this song playing as I run with loubottoms on,  oh my golly I’m ready for you Mr .

Feel ashamed. Chasing a married woman. The audacity.

Let your hearts live like Johann Pachelbel

Darling you,I believe if we look hard, kind, long et wisely, we will see that no matter who we are,  there is a becoming that shall happen to us. Henceforth, we shan’t find that without love.Like Sophie et Zur standing in the great piano room enChâteau de Chenonceau,

looking at the Fallen face of love. Tired of utter deception for love. Oh love sweet till bitter, a silken corset of burnt ashes. Whatever shall we do without it?

Then again as I write to feel et ignite something that shall disappoint even my heart of hearts, it’s a story that must complete. In it all dearest, Pach reminds me that love will deter our will to live if lost.
But without it, our hearts can either wither in the heat of summer, to have lost it nor seek it,

mais tu meurs mille morts sans amour.Yes in this life your hearts shall die one thousands deaths if you loose it, that  love. The symphony of utter perfection falling into your very selves. I think Panchelbel knew that with strings. The truth is my dearest people, how can one do so with words?I often thought Shakespeare was intensely  fou. But As I am writing today, October 12th, that I, a  woman Rianna k Shaikh isn’t far behind. For I do now more than ever believe that ready or not, dearest in this world where life buds, where the trees grow further, as the world turns, even as life is birth, though many men shall fade, there is someone out there, two people that loved like such.I am only the observer.

Next shall we,

Then, sir Vivaldi waltz’s his way into theirs heart, fallen with grievous pain et disguised as death to seep into their faltering hearts et renew their souls with a taste of vivre. All in one mental display of hands, melding into a sorrowful inadequate au revoir.

“Love dearest as beauteous as it may seem from afar, it’s a tedious act of carelessness when you have acquired wisdom.”

Says moi.

Stay foolish darlings.

 

       Now novelists,     Rianna K Shaikh ps. Listen in order. It’s like eating a course at
Jean-Georges Vongerichten.Central Park west, New York City.

la perfection dans chaque cuillère.

 

          La fin.

Do you think you are pretty?

 

Dearest,“Mrs Shaikh do you think you are pretty?”

Non not at all. I am well,  I think I am an adult now. So lady would suffice more than pretty .

Sometimes my husband Says to me,

“You are pretty expensive.”

Ha. I think he thinks I am pretty, but he can’t say it so he adds the expensive. I know the audacity

Go on laugh now. I can’t my brain is so tired. I’m still in bed. Was up writing. All night, like all night.

Send me a Bugatti for the expensive pretty lady, actually scrap that, send me a maid. A driver, a live in masseuse et a chef. That ought to do the trick.  

yours,

RS

ps. I was running from a bear here, I looked back to make sure he wasn’t trying to get the Photgrapher

grrr…

 

   Obviously this is where you run. Duh. By the way it’s Vivaldi. You don’t want to be here today.

Writers journal

         Dearest,Place your heart where it belongs. As a writer of this book I must say my heart doesn’t understand why love has to bleed in all the pages of her story.
This I cannot change, though I am not complete, it affects me on all levels daily. Nightly, I don’t quite know how writers write novels extensively.
It’s incredibly exhausting, my emotions are not mine. Almost all the time. But one cannot run when a character is sitting by the pages lost in her grievance, no one cannot.
I would love to sit still et watch the calm of life in the trees et birds, all that jazz but I fear I must get dressed et look somewhat  civil  Many do not understand the nature of writing books, I could stay in sweats all day for like days et not to mention the loud sounds of piano for hours upon hours and hOURS.I’m on repeat to:

It’s rough rabbits. Lost in a garden of things that shan’t allow you to belong to you nor it.A new feeling for me.I understand why writers don’t look well. I do, but dearest Milly said to me this am, “I’m checking in on you, like how about a bath and fresh air, should I take a picture of how you look so you can see?”   I swear to you I have fallen. I am living a story day et night. I may remain that way till I am done. But my heart is in the most still of a place lost in the greatest grief a heart can ever visit.  I don’t think being a novelist is for me, but this story sure is, donner du sens?
This isn’t about the readers anymore, it’s aboutSophie Becks, wish me bonne Chance?

 

Of to being washed up like a dirty dog in summer RS

   Ollie isn’t he like James Bond,

 

                       007.                                               

The message, le message

              My dearest,

As the quest continues, I was listening to 3 hours of

Ayşedeniz Gökçin,Comptine d`un autre ete – l`apres-midi (From “Amelie”)on repeat. Et my heart bled that note. 

Paris, France, March 28 2017: Ceiling painting in Hercules room of the Royal Chateau Versailles at the Palace of Versailles near Paris, France

Dearest  it is not war we seek but peace. For if you pursue your path to pain it is only yourselves you shall hurt. Let’s be sensible in our pursuits, oui?                  

Surely world, though within I am but a girl with a pen. My heart can fit the entirety of the world.  Forever et ever a writer.
      RIanna K Shaikh 
{•oui je suis moi l’écrivain que vous cherchez tous•}

For the day, pour la journée

          (pour grand-mère)

       Dearest you, 

For there are many great things you shall build, acquire, sought to find, sought to write, forever sought to be. Whatever it may be, like my grand mére would say, 

“Make sure at the end of the day dearest, you can look into the mirror et be somewhat tolerant of who you have become.”

hastag – struggling Wisdom has become I. Bonjour le monde. I wish you a day of something, don’t know quite what.

 

debout tôt, up early 

RS

ps. My French et I are trying to be civil, n’arrive pas!

——————————————————————————

 

   Breakfast somewhere in the world,              que diable!

Kind words?

 

        My dearest friends, foxes, foes, irrelevants, kind people, 

 

 Exhibit A:Never tell me to be kind when my rage holds the pen. I was trying hard to write a novel et this spat out mentally. Are you shivering yet? 
I fear your most polite writer hath hit the dark shores. Oh well we can’t all be fans, non ou oui? 

Doing yoga,

Rianna K Shaikh

Ps. Do you remember the three little pigs et the wolf, le méchant loup. My little Ferrie was scared of that wolf.
Pss. I love you little Ferrie
Ha that was kind. 

I thou seeks kind word, but in the forest

 

   
Dearest you, 

I have the stunning revelation that my daunting diary is verbally globetrotting .

My response is that portraiture above et Merci beaucoup!
I have very little to say except I started  my meditations today et I feel so relaxed et balanced that if I can say to you, please sit for it, for I vow no one will ever say this to you, 

“I cannot work balanced et relaxed et all of that non familiar jazz. I am ruined with peace.”

I told yah. Never heard that before. I need chaos et pain et rivalry et angst to write.  But no, oh no, let’s just sought ourselves out in the middle of the biggest book my heart shall write.

I frown.

Now you see why I am a writer, I thrive on the absence of love et go happy. That soft beauty of pure dirt that everyone seeks isn’t tea for the creatives that we are.

Hence, my dearest husband, the love of my existence ( ) the milk to my tea said to me, I am to be kinder with words. Oh me kinder with words, oh gee, hallo, oh I can certainly try that humans

Oui, last time I checked I was at the verge of the titanic. Cold, bitter, wintery, hivernale et well aware that I have to be incredibly stirred up to complete my works.

Nothing personal it’s just tough work writing more books than a bestseller in a year, hiding from being read, being the biggest critic of your own work et then well on repeat. 

I should rather work like this than seek things that shall erase the feeling of many that cannot quite be. It’s my medicine, my daily mantra, it’s how I exist. On the mére feelings of all, the great imbalances et desires et the fruitfulness of great pain.

Sounds tough?

Its like a bird residing in his nest, looking at the great eagles ahead et silently trying to wish her too could dance as well as the wind beneath their  wings.Impossible only to your minds. Well I would like to carry on but I fear I am watching a very important movie. Go on guess?Peter rabbit. I swear this rabbit haunts me on the daily.
Carry on, Rianna K Shaikh 

ps. Wilderness et tea

Trying to find kind words, hey if you don’t hear from me, send help, for kind words may be very difficult for this winter queen, reine d’hiver to find.             au revoir darlings.

 

The ugly heart

 

       Dearest,Is there such a thing as an ugly heart? Though a few of us may appear more beautiful than others, are there more ugly in us than in life?
 I suppose so but is there an ugly heart?
Is a wicked person with an ugly heart? Sort of like beauty et the beast, though the world found him atrocious I found him incredibly beautiful.

I don’t feign why,  as a child I found his beauty to be hidden under all of that beastly features, within him was a light so bright that  it took a different human to see it. I wasn’t a writer then to the obvious, rather a child lost in her empty heart et careless mind. But the minute I saw the beast I thought there’s something so enchanting about the IN that you could miss the out?

Don’t miss the in. Then it’s equivalent to a life Utterly wretched because you were to busy having an ugly heart.

I don’t see ugly people, I feel ugly hearts. Et it’s profoundly sad because even the huntsman if he were loved as a child he’d  be beautiful too. I don’t know why  I’m writing this but I was actually looking  at the falcon fly down from the trees making all kinds of noise. Oui in front of me. It’s what I do lately, I study the naturely outdoors

Hence, Here I am thinking about what a creature does this nonsense to me

Well good talk non, I am absolutely not an outdoors sort of human but here I am. One must try to inhale the genuine air of life.

Till then I wish to grab this cheese et devour it. You can have the pear. I am tired of eating so healthy. 

We shall katchup later. 
Forever, RS 

Secret letters, livre de lettres

    Dearest,My book is completely done, hurrah!
Not quite sure,  let’s give ourselves a round of applause
In the end read, I have decided to change its name.To are you ready …Secret letters. As it’s quite grand et long, 400 pages of letters non?
Here we are, introducing the next love of my writing room,Secret letters.A book of letters.  I hope to be done et then off to my next completion. I know I swear to you I should like to think, I take out all of my angst et stress et discontent on my work. I won’t even see the daylight if they let me. A real addiction to work when I am ready.
Such, With the hopes that I will finally be the accomplished  human I have sought to be. Money does not make you accomplished, it’s necessary however. But to do something et tire the process out of it to completion is most gratifying. I get to look et hold my book for 3.5 minutes then I am done.Next. At least for this year. My portfolio is attractive. But then again attractive doesn’t appeal to everyone, not that I am looking, I Am not. (Publishing etc)Because at the au courant my life has no availability for all of that. Quite frankly, I think mentally et emotionally I am actually running from everything. I am.
Sadly, someone told me today, that I was running from the writer I am.Heck yah! I’ll do it for a little while longer. If you don’t  mind, it’s what I have been doing this past year, running from riannashaikh.com!I fear I don’t need anyone else knowing who I am. Like hallo so serious rabbits, I likes not being known.
Such crockery though because I am known!Not Good. But I am afterall on the map, so I am going to pretend no ones actually reading this et henceforth I am but a normal person writing books, like amadhatter workaholic.
Pardon my fou. It makes me feel a lot better when I think no ones reading anything I write.

hashtag issues

So I cannot sleep yet, I am on my second cup of tea. Et I swear it’s midnight. I must complete my work. Oui?

Well bonsoir!yours,RS