"You have ugly fingers for a girl. Actually for a human being."
"Your brain is ugly."
"Anyway what's your mom's maiden name?"
"D'Silva."
"And your dad's?"
"My dad's not a maiden."
"Sorry."
"You're weird."
"I'm falling for you."
"You're really weird."
"Slut."
"I hate you."
There's stranger relationships to be in than the one you're currently in.
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
Sunday, 17 January 2010
Why?
I stared down at my foot.
A blunt, dry twig had pierced through the skin at the top and now poked out the other side. Bright blood had risen and pooled around its girth where the skin had split. It looked like it should've hurt but it didn't.
I bent down and loosed the offender till it came free, a fascinatingly exact circular hole in its place. The torn film of skin had dissolved in the sanguine mess.
I stood back up to find A's horrified expression: "Are you..." she gulped, "...okay?"
"Yes, are YOU?" I spat back, slightly shocked at myself. Her wet eyes had irritated me more than they should have.
"We've got to get you to a doctor," she continued shakily, completely missing me. "This could turn septic."
"Just ask this guy where we'll find one," I told her, nodding towards the bored looking cashier of the chemist in front of us.
She hurried off and I turned around, hailed a taxi and left.
A blunt, dry twig had pierced through the skin at the top and now poked out the other side. Bright blood had risen and pooled around its girth where the skin had split. It looked like it should've hurt but it didn't.
I bent down and loosed the offender till it came free, a fascinatingly exact circular hole in its place. The torn film of skin had dissolved in the sanguine mess.
I stood back up to find A's horrified expression: "Are you..." she gulped, "...okay?"
"Yes, are YOU?" I spat back, slightly shocked at myself. Her wet eyes had irritated me more than they should have.
"We've got to get you to a doctor," she continued shakily, completely missing me. "This could turn septic."
"Just ask this guy where we'll find one," I told her, nodding towards the bored looking cashier of the chemist in front of us.
She hurried off and I turned around, hailed a taxi and left.
Thursday, 14 January 2010
Here today, gone today
I feel very worried and vexed lately and I blame it on love. Lately it has got me thinking, which if you've been in love, I don't need to tell you is a pretty rare occurrence.
I just think the emotion has become much too fashionable for me. Everyday I feel like it just gets that much more ephemeral, that much more conditional and that much easier to just snap.
I heard of a man who changed his mind overnight, about the woman he was to marry. 'Too screechy', he said and walked away unhurriedly.
Another one, the day he found a woman whose favourite book was his favourite book. "Her favourite book is my favourite book," he cried defensively, "you don't even read books!" And he too was gone.
The woman was certain she'd found the one. Very easy on the eye, loves her parakeet and made her autistic cousin smile. Then the sex happened. His saliva is too cold and he's not thorough, if you know what I mean.
I once decided I wasn't gung ho about a rather nice boy because his jokes were too obvious.
Like I said, love's gotten trendy. It has its own zip code and favourite brand of post-modern poetry and if you don't fit, you don't fit, sorry chappie, go get an upgrade.
D'you think it's the reason we don't hear of those terribly romantic woodcutter-weds-princess style stories anymore? I think we just threw up our hands at some point and let it all go to hell. Sameness is comforting, sameness doesn't need work and when you come home after a 9 hour day + 2 hours of fighting for standing space in the Thane Fast, and he wants to watch cricket and you want to watch Dexter, you're just through.
I just think the emotion has become much too fashionable for me. Everyday I feel like it just gets that much more ephemeral, that much more conditional and that much easier to just snap.
I heard of a man who changed his mind overnight, about the woman he was to marry. 'Too screechy', he said and walked away unhurriedly.
Another one, the day he found a woman whose favourite book was his favourite book. "Her favourite book is my favourite book," he cried defensively, "you don't even read books!" And he too was gone.
The woman was certain she'd found the one. Very easy on the eye, loves her parakeet and made her autistic cousin smile. Then the sex happened. His saliva is too cold and he's not thorough, if you know what I mean.
I once decided I wasn't gung ho about a rather nice boy because his jokes were too obvious.
Like I said, love's gotten trendy. It has its own zip code and favourite brand of post-modern poetry and if you don't fit, you don't fit, sorry chappie, go get an upgrade.
D'you think it's the reason we don't hear of those terribly romantic woodcutter-weds-princess style stories anymore? I think we just threw up our hands at some point and let it all go to hell. Sameness is comforting, sameness doesn't need work and when you come home after a 9 hour day + 2 hours of fighting for standing space in the Thane Fast, and he wants to watch cricket and you want to watch Dexter, you're just through.
Friday, 8 January 2010
Oh waily waily waily!
Is anyone else sick of how much I've been whining of late? I know I am. All this slippery emotional BS needs to stop. I am going to go back to being hardcore. If this was five years ago, at this point I'd have been done with sarcasm and moving on to irony already instead of breaking my bangles and wiping my nose with the dog's ear.I was perfectly okay with not being liked/ understood, etc as long as I got to say what I really truly meant. And when I didn't have anything to say I wouldn't. And it was nice. And simple. And cooler. Way cooler.
I read something very simple and straightforward by one of my favourite authors. It was something to this effect. He says that it doesn't matter to the universe whether we live or we die, whether we're good or evil, whether we have runny noses or whether we nicked that eraser way back in 2nd grade when that land whale Jodanna wasn't looking. We invented Mattering. We're the only ones who think we matter, we're the reason we're upset, proud, elitist, euphoric and so on and so forth. The world was here before us, and will continue to keep once we've unwittingly stepped into the street and been leveled by an oil tanker.
Liberating isn't it? Can you imagine a world where we died unto ourselves and therefore really, really lived for the first time? No wars, no heartbreak, no Paulo Coelho. What a beautiful thought.
I read something very simple and straightforward by one of my favourite authors. It was something to this effect. He says that it doesn't matter to the universe whether we live or we die, whether we're good or evil, whether we have runny noses or whether we nicked that eraser way back in 2nd grade when that land whale Jodanna wasn't looking. We invented Mattering. We're the only ones who think we matter, we're the reason we're upset, proud, elitist, euphoric and so on and so forth. The world was here before us, and will continue to keep once we've unwittingly stepped into the street and been leveled by an oil tanker.
Liberating isn't it? Can you imagine a world where we died unto ourselves and therefore really, really lived for the first time? No wars, no heartbreak, no Paulo Coelho. What a beautiful thought.
Thursday, 7 January 2010
My rebound relationship
I've realised that every time I'm really happy and occupied in my life, I stop updating this blog.
When I'm happy I have this feeling inside me of being very near the edge - a little too much goodness and I could keel over. It's this breathless, excited rush - I'm grinning all the time, letting all those doubts and niggles fall by the wayside. I am much too busy handling that happy explosion to get my thoughts in one line.
And when things fall apart, I come back here, tail between my legs, slightly sheepish and more than willing to spill my woes.
To come to it actually, I write most when I'm feeling badly which inhabits that cliche I've been shrinking away from years - I do not want to feel creative or expressive only when I'm miserable. Because I like writing and if the atmosphere that best brings that from me is maudlin, then I am doomed to be a very, very lonesome unhappy person indeed.
So to that end, the next time I feel euphoric, this blog is going to be my first stop. This is the year for breaking old cycles after all.
When I'm happy I have this feeling inside me of being very near the edge - a little too much goodness and I could keel over. It's this breathless, excited rush - I'm grinning all the time, letting all those doubts and niggles fall by the wayside. I am much too busy handling that happy explosion to get my thoughts in one line.
And when things fall apart, I come back here, tail between my legs, slightly sheepish and more than willing to spill my woes.
To come to it actually, I write most when I'm feeling badly which inhabits that cliche I've been shrinking away from years - I do not want to feel creative or expressive only when I'm miserable. Because I like writing and if the atmosphere that best brings that from me is maudlin, then I am doomed to be a very, very lonesome unhappy person indeed.
So to that end, the next time I feel euphoric, this blog is going to be my first stop. This is the year for breaking old cycles after all.
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