Good Luck

I was born in the desert. And maybe that’s why I was apportioned a part of the temperament of the desert. Harsh and unforgiving I seemed. Except here and there you would chance upon something which hinted at the idea that if you persevered long and hard enough, it would be worth your while. Again I make no promises.

I wasn’t always this way. Alright that’s a lie. I was and I tried to conform for a while but it was a wasted effort. So I stopped lying to myself and found a cd of Chris Rea and listened to Daytona instead.

The reason I stopped trying was as clear as the sky outside. That is to say not very clear. It was raining like mad outside and the sky was overcast. Exactly what I wanted my mood to reflect. But even that seemed to be doing the let’s be uncooperative routine and it did noting to improve my already chipper disposition. Sunshine and cheer. Bah! Was my personality changing somehow? Did I seem happier? I didn’t want to change. I liked myself fine exactly the way I was. This thought like most others didn’t hold my attention for very long and so I decided to think instead of a new and hopefully interesting personality that had happened to waltz into my life.

The charming if not handsome Watsisfaceagain. Watsi for short. Watsi was like a breath of fresh air after all the others. Because I was clean out of ways for lowering their too high expectations. It was getting to be less amusing and more tedious by the minute. Watsi however was different. He had no expectations. So I wondered, if he had no expectations, what the hell did he want? There was no winning with me. I honestly couldn’t figure what it was that he wanted. Did he want a new buddy? A pal? Unlikely. Although those were high on the list of wanted commodities these days. Well I wasn’t in the market for a pal on order. Hell no. I wasn’t in the market for anything. Should I go off and live on deserted island then? I asked myself. Nah, too extreme. Too much of a bother. So I decided that since I certainly didn’t know what I wanted, Watsi could do whatever the hell he wanted to and it would be fine by me.

There were some other things on my mind, like for example the fact that I was going to have to start caring about a certain someone. Not because I really cared. No sir. But because my innate good nature insisted that I did. It was like having a loosing argument with your self. Which only confused matters further, because if you had an argument with yourself and you lost, it meant that the other party [who just also happened to be you] won. How disagreeable this was all getting to be.

I remember someone as I try to recollect all the unsolved things that have thus far been swept under the beanbag which has been shoved under my bed.
I’m rather convinced that this one was dropped on his head as a baby. That’s the only way to explain the mad glint I sometimes caught in his eye. The glint to match that maniacal smile that accompanied it, which disappeared as soon as he noticed that I was looking. Well this one was none of my concern anymore so I chose not to waste any more energy units on him

Now here’s someone worth wasting energy units on. I watched you grow more and more disillusioned. Always convinced. And I wonder if I ever envied you your conviction.
There was that and also the fact that you seemed less and less inclined to see my point of view these days. This saddened me. Ok it didn’t really. But for both our sakes we’ll just pretend that it did.

The last solution deprived situation involved a princess, yes a princess. One who had climbed up on to a pedestal and was now sitting on it swinging her legs and looking bored. The only thing I can think to do in a situation like this is to push her off the pedestal when she’s not looking. Mad glint was probably waiting down ready to catch her. That would certainly have solved everyone’s problems

A conclusion, the story was screaming for an end. So I ended it. Twisted.

Virtue is more to be feared than vice,
because its excesses are not subject to
the regulation of conscience.
—Adam Smith

With Both Hands

Crab meat.

The only way to eat it.

*smacks lips*

The Great Man... is clolder, harder, less hesitating, and without fear of "opinion";he lacks the virtues that accompany respect and "respectability", and altogether everything that is the "virtue of the herd". if he cannot lead, he goes alone... He knows he is incommunicable:he finds it tasteless to be familiar... When not speaking to himself, he wears a mask. There is a solitude within him that is inaccessable to praise or blame.

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power

Neither of us approved, but we both quietly kept our disapproval to ourselves because he had the one stamp of approval that mattered. Her’s.

and also

i must learn to look at the phrase 'salt to taste' in more realistic terms.

Something else you never thought you'd hear me say

Cooking. Not so bad.
Eating my own cooking. Not so bad. Really. [We’re not so sure about eating the unsupervised cooking though, but it’s a start.]
I have also gained new appreciation for the term, ‘slaving over a stove’

For my darling elder sister, a glass of long life milk is raised in your honour. A couple of butter dosas eaten in your honour too, eaten the only way to eat them. Straight off the plate :)

Love always.

Internet radio. Yipiee!

Something tells me to enjoy it while it lasts.

And in other news, you all should be glad to know that I'm done grumbling about being bored.
Sivan, the slightly emotional [he's Tamilian] cook, good soul that he is, is teaching me how to cook!!

K

Talking without talking

I know there's someone, somewhere, out there
Who's sure to find you soon
After the rain goes
There are, rainbows
You'll find your rainbow soon

[Adapted from, God knows where.. *corny smile*]







Sorry for being a jerk[don't realise it [tiny voice] most of the time].
And I guess,... that's that.

..and Monday night comedy saves the day :)

i'mgoingmadgoingmadmadmadhelp.


[this is in fact a cry for help]

Prayer to St. Jude [Patron Saint of Lost Causes]

Dear Jude, [I don’t really believe in praying to the saints, but I’ll let it go this time, given the nature of the request]
I’m not really sure what to ask for, but one of the following should do.
Please help me to learn to like my own cooking; I’m going to die otherwise.
Either that, or just make me a better cook and even if not that, perhaps a husband who can either cook or one who will learn to like my cooking, hopefully we won’t starve.
I remember once I asked God for wisdom. I’m wondering now, if it would be wise for me to stick to sandwiches.
I don’t really mean to be the sort that only comes to you when I want something, but I think I could use a little help here

Kiran


[I wonder where my ‘I Hate to Cook Book’ is]

Puppy Dog Tails

Brandi baby,

It makes me sad, a little bit, to hear that her enthusiasm has been curbed. That she is now well behaved and listens.
Brandi, my sister Joe’s [and of course Ninan’s] Labrador puppy came to live with us when she was two months old I think. And the first thing I noticed was that she didn’t cry the first night, like most puppies do. She was so happy she couldn’t stop wagging her tail. I love her, love her, love her.
She came to stay with us for a bit before my sister got married and was later to shift houses once she did. There was a lot of controversy about her coming to live with us in the first place. We live in a flat and there really isn’t place for a dog. And who’s going to look after her? Sure Joanne says she’s going to look after her, but who’s really going to end up looking after her, my mother wanted to know. What about toilet training and all that?
She came anyway.
She did all the things that puppy dogs are wont to do. She ate and ripped to pieces all the things that she wasn’t supposed to like the family [to be heirloom] Bible that Richard had specially got for Law, she ate the bows of my expensive shoes, which was pretty funny actually. I think that she only never touched my mother’s things. I suppose dogs can tell whom they can walk over and whom they can’t. [Is my usage correct?]
The hyperactive puppiness and extreme naughtiness aside, she had this zest for life, like she was just happy to be alive and she wanted everyone to know. It’s like you’re running, running as fast as you can on a hill.That’s green and has wild flowers, with a little bit of wind blowing through your hair and there's a smile on your face, just because you’re happy. That’s what she reminded me of. And then when she was all tuckered out [if that’s possible] she would plonk herself on my lap [even after she had grown too big to fit anymore] and fall asleep. Awww.
So now, it makes me sad, she’s all grown up and behaves like a lady. [Happens to the best of us]. And I know that this is something that has to be done, because it’s difficult, really difficult, and nobody really has the time or energy to manage a somewhat unruly Brandi baby.

For Caloovy baby,

I can’t tell you too much about girls. The only point in reference that I have is my self, maybe a couple of girl friends. But I have noticed this. All my girl friends, they’re really pretty. They are. But the boys they go out with. Ugly. Ugly as hell. It just reinforces my point. That a girl going out with a boy doesn’t have very much to do with how he looks. I’m not very sure about this, but I think girls tend towards boys who are in control of a situation, just a tiny bit dominating. It just makes it special for the girl when she gets her way, like she invariably does. I suppose to a large extent tallness, darkness, handsomeness would be handy things to possess, but there are always exceptions to every rule and sometimes in life [like french]there are more exceptions than rules.

k

[www.caloovy.blogspot.com]

gut wrenched

A little tentative about writing this,..Let’s see. You know, all the not so mind shattering things that happen but people don’t get to hear about them, simply because timings and schedules don’t coincide.

Another story :)
Title: The Lusty Wench

We were done discussing the tragic story of the best friend's life and it was about time to move on to mine. So. One step away from wallowing in self pity, I said it. I said what I was thinking. 'I’m never going to find my soul mate, even my hand says so. Bwaaahh.’[That’s the result of me believing for a second that what I say is true] The best friend comes over and dutifully puts her arm around me. I continue. ‘And worse, I don’t think I’m the lusty wench, I fancied myself to be. *sniffle* and I don’t even like cats, so I’m going to be old and alone and… cat less.
That hour must have been witness to the sorriest pair of wah wah cry babies ever.

Laughter that bursts forth. The smiles, unbelievably sweet. Never heard, never seen. You cannot put into words the unpromptedness of the moment. But I try, darn hard.

i wonder if she minds if i don't end it with love.

she must know that i do.

'Poem for Everyone'

I will present you
parts
of
my
self
slowly
if you are patient and tender.

I will open drawers
that mostly stay closed
and bring out places and people and things
sounds and smells,
loves and frustrations,
hopes and sadnesses,
bits and pieces of three decades of life
that have been grabbed off
in chunks
and found lying in my hands.
they have eaten
their way into my memory,
carved their way into
my heart.

altogether
- you or i will never see them -
they are me.
if you regard them lightly,
deny that they are important
or worse, judge them
i will quietly, slowly,
begin to wrap them up,
in small pieces of velvet,
like worn silver and gold jewelry,
tuck them away
in a small wooden chest of drawers
and close.
-- John T. Wood
1974

courtesy: www.jikku.blogspot.com

Grumblesville

If you’re a boy, you might as well stop reading about sometime now. I’m going to talk about [brace yourselves] ‘clothes’ and ‘shopping’

For a place that has SO many consumer items, you’d think you’d be able to just pop into one of the stores, pick up a skirt a pair of pants maybe a couple of blouses and be out of there. Tops, say forty minutes. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it? But nooo. You have to take one hundred things into account. If you manage to find something you like, you probably won’t find your size. It’s difficult to find clothes in a size six. Which is what I am. The starting, thank you very much will be a size eight. Anyway, the list of peeves goes on.
Annoyances aside, I did end up buying something. This blouse. It’s red. Not my favourite colour. But it suits. *sigh* Secondly it’s that horrid material that clings to your body. But it does flatter my frame. And thirdly the neck is cut in such a way that it accentuates my boobs, revealing but not vulgar. But then when was it ever advisable to wear anything that accentuates your boobs? Apart from that, bought myself another pair of heels la di da and another shirt, which I think is the decentest of the lot. Am going to have to find myself another camisole to unaccentuate my boobs if I ever want to wear that blouse. Drat. Till later,

K

some more scary shit

*slight intake of breath* damn i'm going to have to wake up and start paying attention

never thought you'd hear me say it

shopping.
hate it.

Candy
Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker
-Ogden Nash


[thank you and of course. *biggest smile*]

something's wrong

i'm the one who should be saying thank you to you for caring, not you saying thank you to me for letting you care. i never understood you... [disturbed]

my feelings, usually justification for my actions. what if i can't find these feelings. then what?

We were sitting on the kitchen floor. Holding our cups of coffee with a little bit of Baileys. It was late. Early morning, in fact. It was one of the last conversations like that that we would have. She told me a story of love and lust, of deceit and betrayal. I could see hurt and guilt. More hurt than guilt. The only thing I said to her to assuage the feelings, was that everybody needs a little bit of drama in their lives. That little bit of hurt that never quite heals. We hold on to it and make it a part of ourselves. Letting it contribute just that much to the making of who we are. And we come out of it okey. We do. Imperceptibly hardened, but at peace with the world and ourselves.

a final parting of ways

but trust me

when i see you again, it will be as if i never went away

some people are too precious to miss.
- katherine george

Traces of a Memory

Evanescence is playing on radio. I remember a poster in a field. Musicians. Crowd. I’m upset and trying to hide it. But they can tell. They don’t push. Thank god. And I try to remember why and the memory changes. The phone rings. His name is Roger. Immediately my mind makes an unrelated connection. Roger. Roger’s sister Sarah. I nearly cry.

citrus and the window cleaner

He wanted to know if I was serious.

Of course I was.

I wanted to know if my weight would be a problem.

He said it wasn’t.

Perhaps.

He chose not to agree or disagree, effectively destroying any argument for or against the case.

Beautiful.

On cooking for myself

I'm the funniest girl in the world.

A man is a man only when he can be himself wherever he is.
- House of D

. 

A new book! A Beautiful Mind –Sylvia Nasar. And I haven’t watched the movie. Perfect.

At least there’s dinner to look forward to, with a darling cousin and possibly a somewhat cute [need to get used to the accent] boy, later on.

Patient.

Must I be patient?

All the willing in the world doesn't change anything.

I keep finding myself and I keep losing myself.








Ha [somewhat smile]

She worries about me….occasionally.



:)

I’m lost. I’m so lost. I purposely blow interviews off. When the interviewer is speaking to me, the only thing I’m thinking is, ‘when are you going to stop speaking, no this isn’t what I want to do. stop wasting your breath’ and the worst thing is that it shows on my face. And the thing is that these interviews are sure things. I will get the job, it’s all preset. The interview is almost a farce. If only I seemed a little more enthusiastic about it.
And I’m lost, because I don’t know what to do. And I think I'll just cry now.
Rubbish,I’m not going to cry. Bollocks to everything.

for a boy called Hil

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest of places. To pursue beauty to it’s lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.”

Arundhati Roy [The End of Imagination]

I don't know if this trying to survive on full cream milk as opposed to actual food, is a very good idea.

I tell her that I’m sorry I didn’t call. She must be so busy; I wouldn’t want to disturb her.


She tells me that she’s sorry she didn’t call or invite me over. She’s been really busy.


Why the pretense? Neither of us really want to meet each other, but we will… eventually.

My first edible meal. Yes pasta. Maybe something a little harder some other day.
 

the worst i could give you is my disregard.
the worst you could do is make me loose my trust.

well what do you think. about the somewhat new look.

Thinking

I realise that everyone's going to move away sooner or later. So what if I'm the first.
once the unfamiliar becomes familiar you start to like it. Yhat's what i'm afraid of.
Thank god for internet. Thank god for people who care.
This having of time on my hands and amenities at my disposal, it won't be forever [thank god for that as well]
A Predispostition to like. Perhaps not as bad as It seems.
What will I do with my life? All I have is a vague plan.

Notice

The wicked witch from the west shoes and I are now enemies.

I read some of www.blanknoiseproject.blogspot.com and it reminded me of so many things. What she says is true. Each of us we have a story, a couple of stories. We’re always on our guard. Always extra careful.

We shouldn’t have to be.

And the worst is the excuses. The disbelief that it’s happening. You think wrong. It’s some sort of accident. Fucker. Of course it’s not accidental. And then there’s the disbelief, it changes to embarrassment and then indignation.

If only I could have been then what I am now.

And things like this make me proud of people like Kat, people who stand up for themselves.

This is one of her stories.
She was walking down Brigade Road one day [not in the best of moods]. She was being extra careful because she knows how the fellows are over there and she was making a conscious effort to keep out of people’s way. There was this one, she noticed him, but she didn’t even imagine that he’d make a move towards her, he was just too far away. But he did. He banged into her. That did it. She caught him by his collar and screamed at him. She told him to apologize. He pretended as if he couldn’t speak. ‘Mphh mmmm’ he said. She said that she didn’t care whether he could speak or not. If he didn’t apologize, she would drag him to the nearest police station. [And she would have] He apologized.

Sure it also became food for humour, but I was so proud of her that day.

The Phantom of the Opera- beautifully done.

Breakfast

A funny sort of green vegetable looking thing [which tastes like mootlies] in a bland [i.e. tasteless] white sauce.

the first recepie

thanks for trying to grow me up

He was about two and a half inches too much into my space.

She always got it wrong.

'Shall we?', I would say.

'We shall!', She would smilingly reply.

I never bothered to correct her.

o minutes ago i couldn't help smiling. yeah, a really big full in face smile.

thank you.

for making me smile.

everything else, incidental.

I sense that she has grown and independent of me. We, independent of each other. She is more her own person and this is me letting her go. With all my love.

Never forget who you are.

I swear something around here stinks. I’m hoping to god it isn’t me and I’m pretty sure it isn’t, except that I happen to be the only one here.
On the other hand, I am in a room that is otherwise inhabited by members of the male species, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was something stinky lurking around somewhere. I certainly don’t want to find out.
Alright am off. I suppose a little culinary skill sharpening is in order. Perhaps I’ll fry a sausage or two.

k

unreal. it's all rubbish and unreal.
people have to be real don't they? if i can't see you and if you aren't within a ten minute radius of me at least and the chances of you ever being in that sort of radius infinitesimal, then i'm the one at a loss, aren't i?
the usual, better to have had something than never to have had it at all.maybe.
and i miss most the nice feeling that i can hold on to until it goes away. and it always goes away.


'back to where i am
back to in between'

sucker

i watched love actually today :)