Sleepy head....
Its one a.m. and I am really sleepy. But somehow, the desire to go and lie down eludes me. I feel exhausted, yet resilient, light headed, yet centred, delusional, but focussed. Fuck, this is so surreal. It’s like being stuck in a limbo, it’s not hell, but its not, not hell either.
I just feel like drowning myself in a sea of alcohol. Probably completely let myself go to seed, fat, blood shot eyes, lungs choked with smoke, unkempt, unwashed and unhygienic, just lose control over my life; and then, one day, just snap out of the dream world, remerging with a phoenix like majesty and grace, all clean and washed and pretty…that sort of shit.
I had gone for a family dinner today. As much as I didn’t want to, am glad I did. I sneaked off to meet my best friend, it was ages since I had last met him, was feeling terribly blue and knew he was the only one who could help. We met, and chatted for an hour, may be more (somehow, when you are with the only man you ever loved, time seems like an inconsequential astrophysics concept), we didn’t part with any great laughs or sharing some raucously vulgar jokes, we just talked and talked some more. Its quite uncanny you know, some how the time I spend with him alone, is much satisfying than spending time in a group (I know it’s a very wifely thing to say, but the feeling of having him all to myself is just too good :-p)
The family dinner was preceded by a series of annoyingly, well, annoying events. They (family) spent half an hour at the fruit vendor, buying enough mangoes, pears, plums and what not, to survive the Bengal Famine two times over. While they haggled and bargained and bullied the last drop of sweat and profit margin from the poor fruit seller, I impatiently stood outside and listened to my music, which was not that bad excepting for my astute observation of the degree of misery and tenacity they showed in bargaining. I mean, people, seriously, let the poor bugger earn a bloody living yaar, he wants an income, not an income tax official (I know its non funny, but please, don’t push my buttons right now).
And then there was the incredibly adrenalin suppressing pursuit for air (for the car tyres, not ourselves). We were waiting in at the end of the line for 15 minutes, till my excited caustic tongue could not help but make a semi- malevolent remark. It was 8:20 pm, we had left home at 7:30.
“You guys cannot reach anywhere before 9 pm, can you? No matter what time of the day you leave, its just not possible” I snapped, almost unhinging my jaw to swallow them whole and that too, without a scruple.
My father, took the remark very personally (thank heavens, mission accomplished) and drove off, not letting retorts of a young whipper snapper such as mine, become fact. I was more than overwhelmed at the power of my tongue, I felt so… vindicated!
The rest of the night was quite uneventful, excepting for the short, impromptu bonding session I had with my cousin and my rendezvous with Nitesh.
Probably I am not trying to do anything constructive here, except pass your time and mine. Its 1:30 am, and I am as excited as a 90 year old in his marital bed. College starts on Monday, finally, I will again have something unconstructive to do like letching after good looking people and bitching about the ugly ones. I have been so utterly aimless in my vacations that I actually did the effort of restyling my wardrobe and getting rid of all the obscene and unsightly looking clothes. Thankfully, I have only the wearable aesthetic garments left, all the unflattering ones have been rubbished.
My wardrobe is the prime focus of my existence. More than my wardrobe my shirts take up most of my attention. The amount of attention I have for any given issue is inversely proportional to the number of shirts I have to obsess and fuss over. I have a fairly impressive compendium of shirts, almost 60 at my last count. Nitesh thinks some of my clothes are, how do you say, quite jazzy and I agree wholeheartedly. Some of them, in fact, many of them are quite ‘Bling and boisterous’.
But then that is me, boisterous, bright and brilliant in my own little ways, and abashedly, shamelessly so. Sucking every drop out of life, just as my family sucks every penny out of the poor fruit seller. Though life seems to have lost a lot of its juice all of a sudden, yet, I will keep trying, as Gloria Gaynor famously crooned in her anthem of liberation, ' I will survive..."
Finally, my patient readers, dreamland beckons….good nigh
I just feel like drowning myself in a sea of alcohol. Probably completely let myself go to seed, fat, blood shot eyes, lungs choked with smoke, unkempt, unwashed and unhygienic, just lose control over my life; and then, one day, just snap out of the dream world, remerging with a phoenix like majesty and grace, all clean and washed and pretty…that sort of shit.
I had gone for a family dinner today. As much as I didn’t want to, am glad I did. I sneaked off to meet my best friend, it was ages since I had last met him, was feeling terribly blue and knew he was the only one who could help. We met, and chatted for an hour, may be more (somehow, when you are with the only man you ever loved, time seems like an inconsequential astrophysics concept), we didn’t part with any great laughs or sharing some raucously vulgar jokes, we just talked and talked some more. Its quite uncanny you know, some how the time I spend with him alone, is much satisfying than spending time in a group (I know it’s a very wifely thing to say, but the feeling of having him all to myself is just too good :-p)
The family dinner was preceded by a series of annoyingly, well, annoying events. They (family) spent half an hour at the fruit vendor, buying enough mangoes, pears, plums and what not, to survive the Bengal Famine two times over. While they haggled and bargained and bullied the last drop of sweat and profit margin from the poor fruit seller, I impatiently stood outside and listened to my music, which was not that bad excepting for my astute observation of the degree of misery and tenacity they showed in bargaining. I mean, people, seriously, let the poor bugger earn a bloody living yaar, he wants an income, not an income tax official (I know its non funny, but please, don’t push my buttons right now).
And then there was the incredibly adrenalin suppressing pursuit for air (for the car tyres, not ourselves). We were waiting in at the end of the line for 15 minutes, till my excited caustic tongue could not help but make a semi- malevolent remark. It was 8:20 pm, we had left home at 7:30.
“You guys cannot reach anywhere before 9 pm, can you? No matter what time of the day you leave, its just not possible” I snapped, almost unhinging my jaw to swallow them whole and that too, without a scruple.
My father, took the remark very personally (thank heavens, mission accomplished) and drove off, not letting retorts of a young whipper snapper such as mine, become fact. I was more than overwhelmed at the power of my tongue, I felt so… vindicated!
The rest of the night was quite uneventful, excepting for the short, impromptu bonding session I had with my cousin and my rendezvous with Nitesh.
Probably I am not trying to do anything constructive here, except pass your time and mine. Its 1:30 am, and I am as excited as a 90 year old in his marital bed. College starts on Monday, finally, I will again have something unconstructive to do like letching after good looking people and bitching about the ugly ones. I have been so utterly aimless in my vacations that I actually did the effort of restyling my wardrobe and getting rid of all the obscene and unsightly looking clothes. Thankfully, I have only the wearable aesthetic garments left, all the unflattering ones have been rubbished.
My wardrobe is the prime focus of my existence. More than my wardrobe my shirts take up most of my attention. The amount of attention I have for any given issue is inversely proportional to the number of shirts I have to obsess and fuss over. I have a fairly impressive compendium of shirts, almost 60 at my last count. Nitesh thinks some of my clothes are, how do you say, quite jazzy and I agree wholeheartedly. Some of them, in fact, many of them are quite ‘Bling and boisterous’.
But then that is me, boisterous, bright and brilliant in my own little ways, and abashedly, shamelessly so. Sucking every drop out of life, just as my family sucks every penny out of the poor fruit seller. Though life seems to have lost a lot of its juice all of a sudden, yet, I will keep trying, as Gloria Gaynor famously crooned in her anthem of liberation, ' I will survive..."
Finally, my patient readers, dreamland beckons….good nigh
posted by lucifers son | 1:27 PM
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