Internet, I feel tired and miserable and I have absolutely no one I can talk to. Not even you, but thank you for offering to listen. I think it’s imperative I get home really quickly.

Touch and go

The mechanism that pumps the black sludge that flows through my veins feels heavy and full today. I, uncharacteristically, went out on a limb and ended up in an altogether alien place. Everything on this island moves slowly. The people, the animals on the streets. It seems like a place change doesn’t really visit. You can tell by the slow precise way even the weather moves, in the exact same way it did the day before and the day before that. I spent yesterday evening sitting cross legged on my bed, dropping matches repeatedly. It feels like I’ve been here too long, almost an entire lifetime. I’ve spent days and weeks being someone else, unraveling and being consumed. Struggling with my inertia, trapped within my own flesh. Everything seems better and sounds better with a nice voice. You don’t mind being a different person, doing things you know you’ll have a problem with when you look back objectively, as long as it’s done for a nice voice. Of late whenever a friend has had a birthday I’ve told them all that this is the year of happiness for you. I can feel it in my bones. This is the year where nothing will matter, where nothing will be able to touch you. You will be all the things you wanted and you will find happiness over and above the definitions of what you thought you wanted to be. And I’ve meant it every time.
Now, internet, now I’m just tired. I think I’m done going out on limbs and trying to be different. Today I woke up feeling more like myself than I have in a long time. Today I woke up with a familiar distance and constriction inside and it’s both a total bummer and a relief. Sri Lanka was very touch and go. Things came very close to coming to a head but now it’s pretty much time to go home. Pity I didn’t get a chance to wear my hari mirch green windcheater.
Today this very annoying man at work, had a fifteen minute conversation with his clients where he only said ‘Hello’ at the beginning and ‘right’ every thirty seconds. Was it very rude of me, internet, to break out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles?

I am liquid love and mistrust.

I was the person who held a piece of green jade tightly in my palm and focused till I felt it burn. I still carry it around with me everywhere and it’s something I haven’t thought about till today. I was under the impression I don’t really believe in symbols, I don’t set store by talismans. It’s who I am. It took one horrible, unforeseeable event for me to realize that I had a lot riding on an event that was never meant to be a big deal. A month, a blip on the radar of the bigger picture. One horrible event for me to realize that too much is simply happening around me and that at an unconscious level I have as much regard for my rules and policies as the people of Delhi do for the environment. Today I feel tremendously foolish. As of yesterday I was a confused person who didn’t really know what I wanted of life or what to do with it. Today, somehow, I don’t know myself even more, if that’s possible. It’s as if only on stumbling have I realized that I’ve been falling for a while.
I feel too old to chide myself. Too weary to set about making a firm resolution to remedy this situation. All I want to do is lift my hands in defeat and not have to bother about any of this. But today has buttfucked my happy inertia to a point where I feel like I can’t allow myself to ignore this. I am too old to go along for the ride and worry about consequences later when evidence of this nature presents itself. But mostly I just want to be happy and stop worrying and whinging so much. I don’t know what to do, internet. I don’t know who to be. I don’t set store by symbols but the minute my symbol begins to reveal its cracks all I do is buy a small mountain of chocolate and drink.

MIHTFBID - III

Sri Lanka is beginning to feel like vanvaas. Time seems to have very little meaning here. Nothing seems to matter, there are no pressing concerns. Even work never seems to attain any sort of sense of urgency and the world seems to be taking it for granted that everything will sort of neatly finish itself eventually. This is not as relaxing as it probably sounds. It's a strange sort of vacuum where nothing seems to get through. It's like I know in my head that the universe is out there and there are people, people I know, living the same lives I'm so familiar with beyond all this water. But it seems like that only, a concept within my head or some sort of vivid dream that comes about as a result of a severe chemical imbalance.
I spent all three mornings / afternoons of my three day weekend with the curtains in my room drawn. With these curtains drawn it feels like it might as well be 3 AM or 3 PM outside, there's no way to tell the difference. My bed is a king sized cloud and I spent all three mornings / afternoons drifting in and out of a daze, vacillating between complete clarity on the POA and struggling to retain a single train of thought, trying to get some quality brooding done and failing. Most of all I'd keep unconsciously thinking of the way things were in the past, way back in the past before anything mattered, and the way I felt and was back then. Now I can't seem to shake it and I can't seem to bring myself to care. Living by the ocean is probably the easiest way to stop giving a shit about everything and everyone. I'd eventually realise that my mind is completely blank and there isn't anything that seems to need to be thought of and I'd draw the curtains and the entire room is flooded with light. The motherfucking ocean, man. It's like living on the brink of my future, with my past and present dissolving into each other and losing their identities. It's like constant sniggering at my expense. At the fact that I'm pretending to be a different person, or maybe trying to be a different person. At the fact that I like to waste hours pretending to be distressed about problems, while what I'm going to do about them was already decided before any of this began. At just how much I seem to enjoy being this person who is truly dedicated to these concerns. The problem is I think I may actually be all these things. I have spent too many days being by myself, repeating things over and over in my head till they've lost meaning. And now I can't seem to remember which is the made up bit.

What does one speak of when times are confusing and emotionally overwhelming and generally thoroughly disorienting? Cellulite, naturally. Internet, I have a lot of cellulite. Bits of me are completely dimpled and ripple gracefully when I so much as move. Also, it’s not exactly bits of me. It’s most of my thighs and all of my ass. It’s a highly disgraceful state of affairs. I really ought to do something about it considering I’m only 23. Now that I’m here in Colombo, with precious little (except really intense stuff) to occupy my unnaturally large brain, my day is broken up into two discrete parts. The morning and early afternoon when I feel fantastic about the cellulite and my general hotness and the awe-inspiring scope and savage beauty of my game. The second half is late afternoon onwards when my game becomes limited to the creepy old men in my hotel, who are naturally chubby chasers and attracted to my resemblance to a nautical vessel :| Internet, am I doomed to never find the answer? Is it my inherent whoriness compensating for Cellulite City or the awe-inspiring scope and savage beauty of my game?

Now I have suffragette city playing in my head, except Bowie’s singing to my ass.

Don’t lean on me man
Cause you ain’t got time to check it
You know my cellulite city
Is outta sight
She’s all right