Stupid, miserable day

Stupid, miserable memories.

Things that are supposed to affect you seem to be uneasily easier to take care of.

Things that you shouldn't, wouldn't care for, things that are supposed to be over and done with come back and haunt.

Birth dates.

Can't believe I'm not even going to say goodbye. Can't believe this is actually happening.

Just re read something. I am not going to be there "without fail" now. Wow. Things sound so much crazier in retrospect.

Snap

Just like that. No warning. Wow, to think I thought things would never change. There are few times when fundamental foundations shake. And they go such a-rattle then. You would think almost too much love makes sure it never would run out. Except it turns into something else. And its vicious, vile and stinks like crazy.

Its like something's mocking you. Its like Davy Jones' heart that he always thought would be there, safe. Except its gone, and theres nothing you do about it.

Its been so long since I felt like this. Being so perfectly insulated from terror. Three years of fighting against anything that could hurt. Getting rid of people, things, personal traits that could make one vulnerable. Believing, knowing perfect 'safety'. Priding, showing off luck. Being perfectly secure. Laughing at the idea of love lost :) Ha.

In your face, Basu, in your face.

The hunger's never quite gone around here.

Desperately craving chilli potato fries. The kind you get for a whole bowl-ful when its pouring and you're daring your two chaddi friends to run out and place the order because no one wants to move from the car. And then you go out and they run after you, laughing.

Potato fries and menthol and chips. Damp hair and hot food and laughter. The past's always crystal clear and the future's always dim. And we're stuck in fantasy worlds with prospects grim.

Grayness everywhere. What a pity. The melancholia is pathetic.

Thakurma

Finally grieved her today. Can't believe it took five months to get here. Home will always be her. And never the same anymore. No matter how much I'm looking forward to going back, I won't be ever going back to her again. It's surreal.

Brighter Than Sunshine

Glorious. Give me any pick me up, give me this. So. Much. To Learn.

Just a thought. The 9/11 attack probably wouldn't have been a big thing in itself. But the events that followed have made it a landmark in history. In some ways it is reflective of the effect rather than the act itself that decides it's character.

NB: Need to read up more on 9/11.

So un-glamourised.

I have realised, I have none of that wistfulness, or fascination for the word/idea "truth". Its probably Foucault, and a number of other influences that have quietly seeped into my general way of perception, but the idea of "truth" holds no great place in me anymore.

Is it liberalising? Or yet another quiet shackle that's realised too late?

We move on.