Bring on the people, places, animals, leaves, rocks, oceans. Outbursts are temporary, chasing peace is infinite.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
What's the fucking point of this endless cycle?
I should have known better. There's no peace in connections, not even the most innocuous ones. Yet one can't seem to escape them. The very idea of having someone understand -- even only for a short while, somehow tips the balance in favor of the wrong decision, all previous wisdom discarded.
It's like taking a pin to willingly burst your own bubble-wrap, to become a child again, to become open and receptive to everything.
It's dangerous when this is mixed in your blood, when you just don't stop it. I can't be depressed all the time, and I won't, but the lingering uneasiness and suppressed sorrow eventually cause a numb empty dullness that will propel me to a tangent.
I never want to meet anyone I am remotely fond of ever again.
Posted by Gypsy at 6:14 PM
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
It will be sunrise soon, and the biscuits in the tin are nearly all gone. For weeks and weeks I haven’t had a single night’s uninterrupted peaceful sleep.
On some nights, I’ve been up finishing a journal entry and drifting onto the endless interwebs crawling through spaces. On others, I’ve had conversations that have lasted for hours. On yet others, I’ve tossed and turned and finally given up.
These weeks have been a blurry wave of semi satisfactory afternoon naps that give me a buzz like I’m high on something. It’s funny because I always hated sleeping in the afternoon when I was little. With the sleeplessness I’ve noticed an alarming increase in slips of tongue and typographical errors. May the Grammar Nazi spare me.
Some evenings have passed by the lakeside. Mostly with a friend or two, but sometimes alone – once, a little snake and I simultaneously scared each other. As I backed away, it slithered back into the foliage. Once a woman distracted me and a friend by going right down the treacherous slippery mini-bank with a bundle of clothes and washing them in the water. She took her time, letting the clothes float away a little bit and catching them at the very last minute, beating them against the rocks, washing her face with the lake water.
There are lights in the houses across the left side of the lake, and above there is an endless sky. The stars have disappeared from the night sky a little every year. I barely see any these days.
I have an exam in about seven and a half hours and I’m probably not prepared for it. But I know I’ll go to University by 11 am, I know I’ll write until my left hand is aching from the effort and I know I’ll regret not immersing myself into the course earlier. At least I successfully finished re-reading Hayavadana and actually had a smile on my face in the end.
That’s what happens when you study literature. You end up appreciating why exactly a particular text is taught, if not falling in love with it.
Posted by Gypsy at 3:57 AM
Thursday, May 14, 2009
and there are Reasons, why I love xkcd passionately, love it more than I loved some ex-boyfriends and ex-friends even.
(click on the image to discover one of them).
Posted by Gypsy at 6:12 PM
Monday, May 11, 2009
In the evening, summer rain showered itself all over the city. The thick, almost opaque sheets interspersed with gusts of cooling wind embraced everything. There is something stirring inside me as I write this. I stood on the balcony, and noticed everything. I touched the sounds and felt the sights. Each chilling droplet on each window pane, all the dust freely flowing in and out of houses, trees swaying in the wind. The sky and its gifts are offered to us tonight. I accepted them, the droplets on my parched lips, and one by one I let go of my memories. I've been healing and hurting for so long, it's hard to distinguish between pleasure and pain. All the bittersweet mixtures brewing in me for all this time were strummed. Something about the Universe always soothes the worst suffering. Whether it's a moonlit evening by the lake, or tropical rainbursts. My bittersweetness made a lovely tune. I'm still swaying to the music of the rains.
Posted by Gypsy at 6:38 PM
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I was at a friend's house the other day, making conversation, when I noticed her staring at me with a slightly astounded expression on her face. Before I could raise half an eyebrow, she said, "Man, you have strange life experiences."
Her words ring true. Just a couple of weeks ago, I stayed up all night working on something or the other while another friend was passed out on my bed, after having roamed the city streets all day. As soon as she woke up, we went for a stroll. We were passing the little market near my house and found a very strange looking fish serenely flapping its fins in very little water. The water by the way, wasn't in a bowl or anything. Just on the pavement, on slightly uneven ground. The people who got the fish sell chicken, so I have no idea how all of that worked out. I just know that I was there.
And don't even get me started on the fish. It looked like a baby crocodile. We stared at it for a while before moving on to discover a huge cage full of parrots, several stray hungry amorous dogs and sleepy cats. More fish, and a little kid who was extremely uninterested in having his picture taken with a fish but bullied into it by his father, the fisherman. I have really interesting neighbors, apparently someone took the weird creepy fish home to keep it as a pet. And how could I have missed the massive cage chock full of parrots? My only defence is that they don't keep the cage way out near the front door (and that way isn't the quickest to the main road).
Since then several people have seen pictures of the fish, been interested/grossed out or combinations of both, and not one person has been able to tell me what kind of fish this is. Is it possible that the chicken people of New Alipore have managed to spot some sort of new species?
I would show you the picture right now, but its 5 am and I have little Dan Savages running inside my brain yelling "DTMFA! DTMFA! DTMFA!" in shrill voices.
But that's another life experience altogether.
Posted by Gypsy at 4:43 AM