Thursday, June 25, 2009


..when you touch your head and try to show that it hurts and you touch your belly with palms like feathers cause you're nursing a bud like when you touch your arms and you're weary, I want to touch your face.

..going over a score of different ways of asking about your heart and never making it beyond the colour of your shirt.
"If you were to make a french omelet out of your ticker, would I be the pan or the beater or the salt or all that the batter is composed of? Or do I just get to eat it?"

"Is it asleep? Is it humming, is it sad about the weather? Does it piss a lot at night?"

"Did I just hear it say.."

Oh did I? "..but that shade sucks, man."

..the way I say 'hello, hello i know you! ,' one drink down.

..the way I skirt around the edges and jump in when I'm hoping you'd fall. If this
were a movie, I'd be the ignored relic in the museum while the professors fell in love and the walls remained white and grey. I'd be the empty photo frame while sadness built up in their eyes like rain. If I were on TV, I'd be the only weather forecast you miss out on.If this weren't real, I'd be my own socks and eat my feet.I'd be something severely poetic and punch your heart right out of your ribcage, but plug up all ellipses.I'd punch your heart right out- but then tiptoe my way to it and put it in a vintage suitcase after you've collapsed.

Like I'd only leave if I could have that one vintage suitcase with suspicious contents that go tick.tick.tick. and they would have to stop me right there.

But I can't, and tomorrow when I'm jet lagged, I'll just be jet lagged. Not lovelorn, not looking for a bottle opener, no bare feet on cold stone burning from a touch.

Like crabs with their shells touching until one topples over and leaves.

Monday, June 22, 2009


i dont know why i keep doing this.

i'm leaving on the 26th. suddenly every one of my acquaintances is moving to Pune and im discovering more and more people i know shifting there. somehow, it unsettles me more than anything. what i'm used to is leaving everything behind every 2/3/4 years, starting afresh whether i like it or not. i'm used to landing in a city where i know not a soul, and nobody cares about my new haircut and none of them are gonna turn at me and go.. OH she's preparing for a change.
well, im not.

anyway, so the last mistake i made in the city was wallrush. i would elaborate but there isnt much to it. its just that it was a bad time and everyone, including me, has been so busy soon after it ended that the stuff hasnt got sorted out yet and its really no body's fault.
the other mistakes im gonna make here are prolly the JU entrances. im not sitting for them. my mom is going berserk over it. but i cant sit for them.

i'm prolly gonna get to meet JD and Falak once i get to Pune. that's the plan, atleast.
one very important thing before i leave is- i HAVE to erase all the internet history shitpoothings because dad might land on my blog AND start reading it on a regular basis when im gone andhell, disastrophe that would be. i may also change the url but that'll take a while.because i cant get creative with urls now.and i dont have much to say in this post because not much has been going on except me feeling suicidal and at the peak of uncreativity. people who have had to get back to me about certain things have failed and i decide to give up already. im just sueing one of the.
then there's shopping that i havnt done and dont care about. then there's the lack of comfort im gonna have to deal with, a few days hence, but with it comes the lack of control so its all good.

im losing my patience with everything suddenly and that's the last thing i need now. what i need is to find the Led Zeppelin discography that has managed to go missing. i have EVERYTHING but led zepp. i mean i'd lost DT and Jethro and some other shit to a dead DVD but i cannot FIND the ledzepp DVD at all.when i ask the cupboards for help, they dont help.

good thing that's happened is that im at better terms with Sam than i've been in the past year and it's nice to have her back and swear at her every time she drinks beer without me. we've never really got drunk together.

that's the only thing i remember. oh, apart from this. last night i had the weirdest dream and P was in it. i cannot believe it because my father drank ALL the vodka P offered me.please psychoanalyze.this woman i know was changing in his room and i have no idea why im talking about this.

i think i might have a thing for abusive romance but im not very sure about anything anymore.

i dont like mosquito nets.