I am fat, and it’s all your fault.
When every happenstance seems mundane and ordinary, when you disappear, and they all slowly walk away, and all of it threatens to push me over the edge, into vast nothingness, I try and focus on my breathing. Inhale, exhale: over and over again, until the need to regulate it ceases, until I can focus on nothing but me, alone, safe, and warm, still alive and breathing. I focus on the smiles and laughter sequestered by the defense mechanisms honed by me and by you, by us all: romantic comedies/ action movies, popcorn, Coke with lots of ice and copious amounts of chocolate ice cream.
of habits and homecomings…?
I am reading Ashok Banker’s Ramayana series. The retelling, if you please, of one of the greatest epics ever written.
I was super excited about this particular series, I finally ordered it online, I got a good deal and now, I’ve finished Book 1, Prince of Ayodhya. Ram is terribly awesome, Ravana is so evil and fun, sadly, Dasaratha is quite the ideeyut.. And me being me – even though I have problems with the prose, with some of the scenes, with some characters - will sit and read all the books cause I just have to finish a series if started. So, I am now reading Book 2, Seige of Mithila. Sita has finally been introduced and well, she is quite something. I like. His words and sentences and openings and even chapters seem better edited, better placed. I do hope this maturing of writing style continues for the next 5 books. Sigh.
Oddly enough, it’s Diwali, day after. Ram’s homecoming. Not Rama’s, Ram’s. Thankyouverymuch. And I’m reading all about him eh? Heh! But I just don’t feel the festivities this year.. I haven’t felt the need to go buy something new to wear, I haven’t even helped Maa shop for gifts or sweets or those crazy hampers you get during Diwali season! It’s quite upsetting. If I wasn’t so brain dead, it would be disconcerting!
Oh! well, nevermind all that. Happy Diwali everyone! Decorate ‘em houses with candles and diyas! Eat mithai, play cards with super low stakes, dress up, smile and do NOT burst crackers, please! Heh.
PS. I want to write a fuckin’ awesome book! I really do, now please give me a story.
All I want is love.
My drink, yes, my alcoholic beverage, needs to be prepared a certain way to be perfect. I need an old-fashioned glass, with 3 cubes of ice, let me rephrase that, with 3 perfect cubes of ice. Then, we pour 30 ml of JD and then we top it with Coke.
How difficult is that?
Well, very.
Firstly, I am not that fussy, so, I can deal with a not perfect glass. But the ice. What’s with the ice!?
Exhibit A: small, tiny insipid cubes of ice floating around, melting too soon, ruining my drink.
Exhibit B: Giant cubes of ice that do not budge, and destroy the JD: Coke ratio. Chheh.
Exhibit C: Those fake ice cubes that are hollow! Now, if the Exhibit A situation needs to be fixed, I up the ice cubes and for Exhibit B I go easy on the ice. But these fake, pretentious cubes are hollow and not evidently so! How can one be sure of them being hollow from one peep into the ice bucket? Argh! Ruiners of all things beautiful and worth living for, I hate ‘em hollow ice cubes! Hate.
Then, we have the JD, which in my opinion, is a sweet smelling, beautiful, well-rounded drink that leaves one wanting more. More of oak, more of the hints of caramel and more luscious lipped kisses and copious amounts of love.
Coke. Coca Cola, not Pepsi, not Thums Up, not the premix shite, but Coca Cola. If you get this wrong, or worse, try and lie to me about it, I will kill you.
Now, SCOOT. Get me a JD and coke, with 3 ice cubes, please. :)
how to avoid evident demise?
No. We are not going to discuss death or life or how all of us will die one day and so, what’s the point of it all while you live. No, no. We are not going to ramble on about global warming or eternal damnation or impending doom/ Armageddon. The title just stands for the slow death of this place. Yes. This. Place. Or space. Call it what you will. Heh. It’s dying. And I know not how to revive it. Any ideas?
Well. We can quit job to ensure we write here. That won’t sit well with anyone, not even me, for the moneys are needed. So, we can just type whatever comes to mind. But nothing, absolutely nothing comes to mind. I can think of nothing to write about. I have stared at this “Add New Post” page and just continued staring till I got a call or had to get something done or the cab arrived to take me to office or home or somewhere away from here. Yes. We cannot write. How does one save a place like this without being able to write? Suggestions? Suggestions are welcome.
So, this state of intellectual dead has led to me resort myself to being on the receiving end. There’s work, there’s more work and then there’s no scope left for anything but bleh. So much so, that I am now obsessed with another sitcom, One Tree Hill. Yes, I’ve finished Sex and the City, How I met your mother, Gilmore Girls and 5 seasons of One Tree Hill. Yes, it’s disturbing. Yes, I read too, and watch movies as well. I need to watch Bruno and savour this collection of borrowed books. Despite all this, I cannot write. Each sitcom, each book, each movie is ridden with the idea of love, true love, the one… finding the right person, your soulmate for the night, for the month, or for life. I cannot write: how different would my words be from the gazillion words written on the subject already? Right?
