Tag: birthday

watercolour of a man in a suit and fedora

What name do you wear to dinner?

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I never liked my name. It sounds wishy-washy, to be honest,
and definitely lacks the solid attitude of Piotr or Janusz.
Even my middle name has more to offer in this regard.
And why do we attach so much importance to the name
in the first place? What’s wrong with changing it like we do
with our hair or clothes? Our bodies, not to mention minds,
also change over time, so why stick with the same name for life?
Maybe tomorrow I will wake up feeling like Aditya or Haruto,
or better yet, Gwendolyn, to express my feminine side.
And why limit ourselves to calendar pages? Don’t we change
out of our morning sweatpants into work clothes, and after
returning home, into something more appropriate for dinner,
finally slipping into our pyjamas at the end of the day?
And if a name is indeed at the core of our personality,
then building it on a foundation that is merely the accidental
whim of our parents on our birthday seems somewhat unwise.
Anyway, right now, I feel like nobody—Mr. Nobody.

Lonely man on the beach near the lighthouse

A solitary man

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

If you have ever wondered what life would look like with a poet, take me as an example.
You can count on a walk along the Victoria Road and across the golf course to the lighthouse,
where you have a chance to spot a flock of house sparrows along the way and, if you are lucky,
even a curious fox, but not on a holiday in Sicily or a weekend in Málaga. I will also be more
inclined to write you a verse or two than a cheque, and if I happen to remember your birthday,
you will get Camus rather than Versace, likely purchased as a gift aid at Oxfam on Back Wynd.
Of course, evenings on the sofa with a book or a black-and-white film can be taken for granted.
Perhaps none of that has anything to do with poetry and is just me being, well, me. No wonder
I spend my days in solitude.

lonely man at the table during a meal

Not for lack of effort

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Too many words, too few hours of sleep with music imitating the lasting sounds of the street,
or the other way around, and breakfast like the last supper rehearsal, goaded by the mere fact
of my undeniable mortality—all of that made me feel as if I had forgotten someone’s birthday,
when in fact it was the birthday one who sabotaged my every effort at making birthday wishes.
Who would have thought cruelty could be effortless?

a man in a room full of books stands by the window and reads by the light of the streetlamps

The way we are born

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I know we always assume that parental love is a given,
but have you ever wondered what it would be like to be
the reason your parents have been at each other’s throats
for as long as you can remember, just because the distance
between their wedding anniversary and your birthday
is oddly close? Personally, I feel like I would rather never
have been born than bear such a burden, but it so happened
that I was, and trust me, it rips every bit of light out of you,
to the point that you lock yourself in a room with books
read by street light, standing behind a curtain. This is how
madmen and poets are born.