I love you gray!

Versatility, multi-tasking superfluous waxy batty vain fantasizing phantasmagoric marshland, orchestrator of meandering hopes, bends lit with possibilities with high improbability neon signs blinking rapidly, stutter down another curve oozing a sordid waste of time, internal marijuana, nerve ends twitch in anticipation, collector of broken, ancient, and sometimes in tact memories of the darnedest things showcased on either sides of the glass tunnel, then you shrug off this and take on one of an inconspicuous spy as though that was you of those beatnik days…tattoo on shoulder and Woodstock, now more sober, assimilate, then break down distortion to create your way of noise, twitch as a small facial muscle ticks to an unseen threat, contain excitement in a fragile canister when something is discovered, rotate 360 as though turning over a colourful sea worn shell like a kid would with awe, exhilaration…quizzical. There’s more to you than just this…you go on…vain aren’t ya describing your own self…and good plan! State your twisted way with a pomposity that’s bound to make you a cult and then balance yourself out with more discerning faculties (?)

And since I’m on this tentacled monster here are a few things it reveled in the recent past.

I was meant to see it. Breathe in orange fruitella of a fog. I’m a crabby morning person but day before yesterday I followed my mom out like a mute puppy… at 4:30 in the morning! Was yet to recover from my space journey but my new setting felt like I whirled into another one…fog! Fog! Fog! Of a very pretty kind…tungsten fog! A never-ending marmalade passage. Seemed like you had to slurp through it all to look beyond next door. Scrumptious!

One of the many discoveries made in hostel on days when wrangling with tubes squirted 'pops' of nothingness...Dabur Red. Tis such an awesome tooth paste! It’s got a tingly viru viru flavaa...like this leaf called Karpaga Valli (karpaga valli is a thick juicy ridged leaf good for cold and stuff and smells remotely like eucalyptus) :-D I’m hooked alright.

I’m a fucked up individual as it is. What makes me fucked up in a not so nice way is PMS!!! R knows I’ve been feeling like I’ve been wound around the grooves of a foundation iron rod. Thing about foundation iron rods are that they go through the center of a pillar. It’s pinned me down through my core and my core not like a contortionist twirling around a bar but more like a psycho who’s wrung me out like a piece of wet cloth on a bar. Well, at least I got my foundation right.