Good things to report. Firstly, my very first thank god it’s Thursday. It’s quarter to 4 and I can’t wait for the weekend to start. These two hours and fifteen minutes need to go by really quickly. Secondly, I realized the purpose of the hot water switch outside my loo. Murphy the genius savant. Lastly, and I add this only to pander to certain sections, India reached the World Cup finals! Though , honestly, the India Pakistan match set me off on some sort of depressive spiral of self pity. I felt incredibly left out and far away and miserable and like I couldn’t talk to any one. Well I don’t think I would have been audible over the sounds of the crazed cheering and merry making for what it’s worth. I’m a loneliness rookie and I’m working on it.

This weekend promises exciting forays into adulthood such as my first load of laundry. What happens, internet, if I put my formal pants into the washer and drier? What happens if I wash them by hand and attempt only using the drier and accidentally set off the washer? What if they come out smelling funny? Watch this space for updates. I’m toying with the idea of actually cooking something. Y’know, other than eggs and salad. Or maybe I’ll just do nothing and vegetate and feel sorry for myself and order in Chinese food over and over. Maybe I’ll get around to catching up with my friends who were expecting long, detailed, updates and got a ‘all good. v tired. will mail soon’ mail. I’m charming like that.

What I really want to do is go buy sneakers and a swim cap and start utilizing all the fancy sports facilities my hotel has to offer. I can buy the cap. That’s not exactly a significant expense, right? (The danger in this case is the moment I walk into a store I start finding important things that I *really really* need. Like yesterday it took a lot of talking myself off the ledge to not end up going home with a kilo of green bananas. Hey. It was a co-op. They’re cheaper in bulk. And I like eating bananas at work, like I’m sort of daring people to watch with a straight face) And I have my converse sneakers with me anyway.

I miss my babies. I’m hopefully going to stop writing that in every blog post and thinking it constantly soon. I hope they’re not missing me and are chillaxing and being decadent. I miss Leonard Cohen and harbour deranged illusions of beginning to write beautiful poetry like him, to document my current loneliness. Which sets in only post 8 PM. I’ll write topically beautiful poetry and spend the rest of the time writing junk about arab bananas. Which are the same as Indian bananas, only strangely harder to peel.

I hate snotty women. Almost as much as drunk women. Who wants to visit me and buy me liquor at the duty free? Since I can’t ask my dad. Who wants my limitless undying love? RAISE YOUR HANDS.

Faux mallu Murphy

Apparently you do.
Murphy's moved. And living in a very strange city. I figured it was worth a shot to see if I could update my blog from work (think of all the countless hours of pretending to type something official and productive! think of all the post lunch drowsiness abated!) and voila. Et moi. Mostly, I got sick of looking up apartments online. I hate not having any idea about where all these places are and what's a good deal and what's not and whether paying more for a furnished place makes more sense or getting a place cheaper and getting furniture. I got sick of looking at numbers which don't mean anything because I can't multiply by 12 in my head. So I was being very dutiful and looking and looking and nodding at certain offers and bookmarking some. But I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.

This city is very strange. I'm not going to get into the ways and means of its strangeness because that would be very boring. I will however say that I think its making me see through materialism, for the first time in my extremely vapid life. I can't multiply and divide by 12 but I can't help but divide by 4, the cost of one packet of glucose biscuits, subsistence for one doggie for one whole day. And the cumulative worth of the handbags in my team of 4 alone could feed a dog for 123 years. Years, internet. Maybe I just really miss my babies.

Things are a little disorienting, internet. I miss my family and my babies and my very old man. But I'm also strangely happy. If only a furnished, one bedroom, close to my place of work, has a gym + pool, has kitchen appliances, isn't more than 50k dhirams apartment could magically fall into my lap I'd be completely happy.
Well, not completely, but close.

PS: also, if subway could have more than two vegetarian sandwiches that would be swell.

Test test. Does one trust the firewall of an organisation that allows access to blogger but not actual blogs?

My "boyfriend" is out being a metal scene nerd at some show, there's a hazy super moon in the sky, the brilliant new 30 rock has been seen twice and I'm bored for the first time today. Unemployed and about-to-leave-the-country-so-extra-appreciative-of-everything bored is the best best kind of bored there is, and I hope you too get to experience it sometime soon.

xoxo

Lucky lucky

I'm going to have to do a runner from the country any day now. I need to still buy a large suitcase and put all my things in it, I need to buy stockings, I need to buy a tiny pressure cooker (because I'm told it can do ANYTHING), I need to pack another suitcase full of things which will follow me later. It's 1:45 AM and as I'm typing this I can hear a crazy bird twittering away. The only rational explanation would be that its woken up from a nightmare. Aw, tiny bird nightmares. Forgive me universe, for unfairly tilting the scale in the favour of my cats and for providing tiny birds with unnecessary stress. I've thought about it a lot and in case I genuinely am fucking up the ecological hierarchy and balance of my neighbourhood by giving the predators with the vicious claws an unnatural advantage, then it should be added to my karm tally. I'm sorry for your tiny bird nightmares, little bird :(

See? I don't update for so long and I still don't lose the art of the classic Murphy incoherent digression. Like I was saying, I'm getting on a jet plane some time soon. My work wardrobe now consists of only white, black and grey. And navy blue for when I'm feeling particularly rock n roll. I'd love to tell you how I feel about this move, but to be honest I haven't thought about it so far and I really don't intend to start any time soon. Maybe on the plane. I'm doing practically nothing nowadays except just *being at home* and hanging out with my family and babies. I feel completely happy and content and rested. I feel immense gratitude for the life my family has had so far and for the kind of life I've been lucky enough to live. When I get completely blitzed, or blitzed as poland as I fortunately was today, I get to think in peace (and I think of everything. it's my favourite thinking) and today I thought about everyone I have loved and how different they all are. I'm not going to go completely gay on you, internet, but I wish you could have seen them. I wish you could see how the violence between us seems like the most tender act of love.

I should really stop here, before you barf all over my blog. Fine. Just saying is all.

Hey, Kafka!

tonight,
in this very dark
night,
looking out the window
at the lights in the
harbor,
there's very little to think about or
do.

I smile, looking at
my hands --
I always had small
hands.

now
day by day
they seem to be
growing
larger.

is it some type of terrible
disease?

alone in the room
I laugh
loudly
at the thought of
my hands
growing so
LARGE
that they can't
fit all of me
into my
casket.

what a delightful frightening
thought!

"what's wrong with this
son of a bitch? his
hands are the size of
his body!"

then
I forget all that and
look out at the lights
again.

- C. Bukowski

ek dum deep thoughts

- i've been unemployed for over a month
- i'm having the best time at home. la la la
- i love reading people's blogs and EVERYONE is completely slacking. there is nothing fun or interesting for me to read, and i get that fun and interesting people are too busy being fun and interesting, but still, no fair.
- let's get our act together, internet. let's do this with some feel.