Little lies. Those sweet little lies were always hilarious. In the end, it almost became too hilarious.
If you were to be a mythical creature, you would’ve been the fiery Juno.
Life is funnier when it happens to somebody else. Such sadists we are.
to nowhereland. The dreamlike directionless of the times is swallowing my insides like a starving Amazon Anaconda. Dreamstate is good. Directionlessness, not. Considering the past few days I have no doubt in my mind, none whatsoever, that I should’ve ditched the laptop and gone to Ladakh instead. Even as I type this in Windows Live Writer, which seems to be one of the few handful programs of use in the bloatware called Windows Vista, the emptiness surrounds me. Why is it so empty?
Don’t cancel plans the last moment. I always said that to meself. I should have gone alone. I really should have. D is of the opinion Ladakh is going nowhere. Of course it isn’t. As a matter of fact, June/July, 2010 would be a nice time for Ladakh-ing after a hectic freshman year at Charlottesville. But that’s not the point, is it? I should have been a quarter of my way in from Manali to Leh by now in an off-roader soaking in the mountain summer sun. I mean, God, I’m still mooning over this shitfest. Unbelievable!
The electricity’s gone, as usual. Nothing seems to stay on in this state. There’s a crow squatting in the neighbor’s balcony for the last 20 minutes. He (she?) seems to be in a state of deep philosophical contemplation. Sigh. We grow older, people move away from us. I don’t mean death. Rather, they just move away once their interests have been satisfied, or when they get bored. I know I have. It’s a tragicomedy of time. We grow up, people move away and we get older. The cycle continues.
Something’s just not right. I can’t pinpoint exactly what but, something. I wasn’t supposed to be writing this post, for instance. I was supposed to be somewhere else with somebody doing something else and not just sitting here contemplating what went wrong. Everything happened so fast or maybe time is playing tricks on me.
Blogging used to be a way of catharsis. Even that isn’t working. Enough already. Nothing here excites me anymore. Wait for August I can’t.
i need some. i’m trying to numb down the extremes of the negative emotions i’ve gathered throughout May. Negative emotions, anger for instance. Does behaving like a territorial alpha male count as negative? In this case, i think so.
The time has come for getting some fresh air. Now that too is a no-go. I have resigned myself to fiddling with the new laptop and reading Lolita on a monsoon afternoon. Bad call i know. i should’ve ditched the laptop and gone to Ladakh instead. What a waste!
These days I call your lies practical jokes. It gets to you, doesn’t it? So the other day I celebrated your mastery in the art of practical jokes by bringing home a cake from the Kathleen’s nearby. Not a decorated custom-made birthday cake, just a cake with your name on top of it etched in cream. There was the ubiquitous candle in presence as well.
I didn’t celebrate your birthday. I celebrated you. The magnificent disappointment that is you. See, I’ve stroked off the previous line. Know why? There’s hope for you I believe. I want to believe there’s hope for you. Because there’s always hope.
I am always out or denied of it. I cannot but heap more praise on Vodafone’s chhota credit system where with a single sms one can get a ten bucks talk time credit whenever talk time dips below Rs.10.
I have lost count how many times this has bailed me out of corners. Vodafone. Thank you.
