Glory box

I’m heading off to days of unending penury, play lists that don’t change for weeks, bhindi for lunch and big goofy smile, never letting the curtains sway an inch and then step out after a week cursing the rain….but forced to tolerate nature because I have to buy pot yes, or rather force my male friends while I tap my feet like a prized brat, parties with dress codes of halter and jeans where I know everyone and everyone knows me, and we all mingle with enemies and past lovers as if nothing ever happened and we are so gloriously over it, butter chicken at 4 in the morning, and screaming out loud for the hundredth time because he misplaced the bob marley cd AGAIN! And cribbing everytime I have to get out because I’ll be dripping wet when I’m back, muddy feet, stupid people, pepperoni a million fucking times, people refusing to let me put jazz, and when I do, a faint Radio Mirchi hits my ears, should I kill them or not? Should I go to Pondicherry? Can I afford Dupleix right now? Are Chennai cabs safe?

So I’m confused. There’s not too much time left for me to be denied this option altogether so I’m good. Not too much mind numbing psycho sessions on this time. I’m going to be calm and bring it ON. And I’m going to meet my dog… happiness! That’s the only bright light right now, of course, perfectly ignoring the possibility of him refusing to recognize me at all, which is when I kill myself and drive out of this purposeless existence. Hee hee. Never going to happen. He loves me. I think. No, he does. Yes, definitely. But I’ve changed my perfume! You retard, that doesn’t matter! Oh.

**

I have recently met someone very special. In fact, he’s so special that he makes me suspicious. Because I have come to realize that I’ve had way too many ‘special’ men in my life. BUT, we are not going to fuck up things this time with my commitment phobia issues, I mean, surely they are always going to be there … I think he understands all that I mumble. And he is a rock star. What more do I need? Um, let’s see. Him in the same city. But this is good too; I like the freedom of having and yet not having. And how I’m the only one who knows. So I will be the only one when it falls apart. Or alternately, when it gets better
**

Why do people hate dogs? And why is there no Hitler-like character to do away with such chuts? I imagine this huge SS army convoys who do secret round-ups in cities and night, ‘so, you think your neighbor hates dogs?’ ‘Do you have proof?’ ‘What? He doesn’t aww like an imbecile at that hutch ad?’
Ok, off they go. To fuck their happiness. So much more barbaric than killing Jews no? but this is good barbaric, and I’m all for it. This stupid woman keeps on calling me up to whine about me having a dog at my place. I don’t want to show her the picture like it is or anything but she’s pushing me to it. Considering she’s a ‘friend’ and he’s my ‘everything’ for the last 3 years, no Ford Ikon for guessing who I’m going to opt for. Do I tell her to throw her Ipod in a bin when it starts playing Shakira and polluting the environment of my house? Or do I tell her to stop buying everything I buy.. perfume, lingerie, freakin’ lamp-shades! So she’ll have to live with it, he’s so NOT going into my room when she’s around. She can just order her pizza and get fatter and get over her phobia already. Mmmmm. Possessiveness brings out the best in me.

**
Yesterday I met Jat boy. Why I call him Jat boy belies understanding because he’s not a Jat and quite cute looking, but I find it amusing that he makes it a point to explain his entire ancestry everytime I call him that. Ha ha. Cheap thrills.
I don’t pity him. No. He’s much more stronger than that. But I feel so goddamn spoilt and useless whenever I meet him. Where do people get their strength from? And still be so nice, and still be the way men were actually supposed to be. I know Jat boy likes me since forever. But there’s always been someone or the other barring his way. But it was nice that he didn’t try this time. And how he never tries because he knows that never works with me. Just talked about how we hate ‘kids’ and how THIS is going to decide the next ten years of my life. I love the fact that he asks, “ how are things at home” in such an uncharacteristic and non-pitying manner. And when I smile and get vague, he bangs on Led Zep as if nothing happened. Yes, I need more simple people around me. And not “ guess WHATTTTTT!! Dad is buying me a Fiesta. Ab toh full on party!”
Errr, okay!

**
I’ve never written about him. Too much bitterness for a long time now. But it’s over. And now it feels good. Now I can see all that he did. And all those times when I drove him mad, knowing that I’m too difficult for him. And too neurotic, but he tried a lot. Really tried a lot. While I gave up ages ago. I just wish he never gets to know that. He saw something different and it broke my heart. Because we were never there. I taught him too many things he didn’t need to know. He wouldn’t need all this.. because I’ll never let him be with a woman like me. Ha. Even he needs someone simple.
I’m not trying to take myself too seriously here…I just saw the other side of things and was running away from it for almost an year.
Now that I've reached a 'new chapter' as Jat boy puts it, there are too many songs for him… and a box full of paints

I need to get out of this shit-hole fast. Like on the double pronto run with all you got kind of fast.I should probably have a separate blog just about my parents. Hmmm.I have really thought about it.. there's enough crap to last upwards of about 1000 posts per month. Anyways so mom is again having one of her shitty days and there's no one else around other than her dumb daughter so let's screw up her week right about now. Now I've been unwell for a week and as it is don't bother about her much. That's what the scene at 'home' is like.. we try to stay out of each other's way. Because none of us can communicate on a seemingly affectionate or even civil level to each other anymore, so we just ponder on stuff like UP elections or something more crucial. It's so much better to talk to my dad, he's much better at this superficial stuff. And he always shuts up when I start shouting. So it never gets out of hand. It's just go-fuck-yourself-first silence. But he's not around during the summer so I'm stuck with this bullshit alone.
Like every summer I thought I'll work, socialise, crash late and basically fuck out of this blasted city before too much damage takes place. But nooooooo sirreee....that never happens. So I'm the only one who gets calls from people screaming because they are effing bored. And they want you around so that they can hit you like they did in school. And you come back thinking maybe it'll have cooled down by now.. but there she is, waiting for me. Waiting to fuck my head with all the crap she's been thinking of all day. And interestingly, absolutely nothing she'll say is going to be about 'her'. It's going to be about me. About how I should just get out of her life and stop siding with 'him' and that she's had it with people scheming against her happiness. This drivel used to scare the wits out of me in school. I used to cry and think oh I'm such a bad person, My mother hates me and this doesn't happen to any of my gifting-cards-on-Mother's-Day friends. But this is like a joke now. So obviously I walk out on her and put on my music. While she bangs on it for half an hour and then calls him to abuse him. He doesn't pick up.
And we are so fucking normal. Tomorrow I'll go and research on torture in Uzbekistan. While she's have a bloody kitty party in Gk and talk about some new variety of curtains all the way from Bali. And I'm writing this with Jack Johnson asking some girl to eat his banana pancakes and to pretend that it's the weekend. WTF???!!
It was so much easier when you blamed yourself for all this. When all they say defines your opinion about yourself. But I've grown up now and see myself in seclusion from nights such as these. No I'm not a whore because I was watching a transexual documentary on Discovery. But now it just sucks. But now we know this and it's too much anger. Too much anger at having to tolerate situations because you still want to help people who are too chickenshit to ask for help with love. So I'm in my room trembling because I'm angry enough to kill a dog. And she's crying in her room wishing she was in 1984. And jack johnson is still playing....

I'm just feeling so stupid. And not even that kind of stupid where I feel like rambling politics just so that I feel as if I'm thinking.Doing something.
Aaaaaaarrrghhh.I started another one of these crappy things today. God. My new office is in some godforsaken part of Safdurjung. It was so unbelievable, I just kept on staring at the car which just kept on going on and on and on in small clustered alleys. I was so pissed!
And I entered to see the place swarming with firangs. Where was I? Some Goan beach shack full of Russians? Err...Australians apparently. This chut who sits very close to me and still talks in such a whispery tones as if all of them are drafting the fucking Constitution of Africa. So I just felt so dumb going like..Errr what? What?
And what's with these firangs and heat tolerance? I would have expected them to rip their hair out and run like banshees. But these guys were so effing ridiculous...just kept on typing furiously while I'm holding my head in my hands, cursing myself for wearing anything at all! Why couldn't I just come here in a bloody sack like the female sitting next to me? She's working with such concentration, as if the AC not working doesn't affect her at all. I could just imagine those fat lawyers in Supreme Court ordering yet another samosa and cribbing about the heat while the AC is blasting in his face like a bloody cooler.
Anyways, I'm just annoyed and have nothing to say. I just want people to serve alcohol in Greek restaurants and do away with people who don't switch on the fucking AC when it's right on top of your head!