Sigh squared

Oh and this is my car. Pretty no. She's a lil raspy when started up though. This is my room...quite a sleep inducer and yada yada yada. Variations of virtual tours of my home were spilling into my ears and shot back into my head circuitously for more chopping, re-editing, rephrasing and additional knickknacks. Somehow I manged to rest eyes in determination not to like panda for the next day. Next day. Went about like yoga went wrong with a crick by the diaphragm and refused to exhale much. Mopped, swept, cooked, wine at handy. And tequila too. And ice cream.

It wasn't till evening that I actually put a face to my cleaning bout. Didn't want to count them chickens. However, Luck crapped on the two of us. It cost him literally. And I went skittering like a popped balloon.

The one good thing that's come of this is that home has been gleaned.

Bloody Dunes

Why is it such a big deal/issue/expectation or whatever you call it! to want it straight simple neat...the person I'm madly in love with to be just as madly in love with me...? There's no such thing as perfect, no one has it easy yada yada yada but Orkut says otherwise. They all are bledy leaving testimonials of their love for each other now! No I don't grudge them. I bet it's so bledy nice to be that way. And Orkut is probably the worst thing to happen to me. Or maybe all this swishes around in my head cos of PMS. Guess I need to bleed to be a better person. Sometimes it's that simple...or so it seems. Monthly ruminations...

Once you get used to not having, there's a shutter that leaves just about enough ventilation for it to grow on you. But these bleeding times of clarity gets it all clogged in the wedges and in need of some dusting. Baah!

And synchronised PMS is rather deadly. P'dner and I have it together. We hardly meet, but then we do talk on the phone a lot. Both of us aren't up to bail each other out but sigh or hiss with nods.

Compass, ladder and some recipes plis...

Having blared Rare Earth, RHCP and more, Worldspace quit on my mom when she switched to the spirituality channels, which btw are the only ones that will play on not having renewed subscription. Fiddling with the palm-sized remote with tough buttons that feel like thick corn (is that what you call it?) at the junction tween finger and palm, and mine I attribute to 5 years of riding a blue kinetic with musical notes etched on the side. Tsk Tsk. It's not so bad really. Deviant me. That was no sentence. That was a strand. I'd like to think it the vapourous stuff that Dumbledore pulls out with his wand and swishes into the pensieve like a stray string of spaghetti.

Yup, fiddling with the remote didn't get the stations back. The display said CARR 75. This, the customer care persons pronounced as CARE. Some care indeed. The manual didn't have it in the index and was still missing after having run through it all. When nothing they suggested worked, I was told to clamber on to the roof and direct the antenna South East at an elevation of 45 to 50 degrees. What?! This at 11 pm with a very reluctant moon.

In between all this I was screeching as to why they i.e. mum and uncle had to mess around when all they had to do was holler for me. And while the verbal blah blahs rallied, the aquaguard was belting out it's annoying, high pitched tune while my uncle loudly read out the manual. Mad indeed! But quite funny on after thought though in a frustrating and exhausting way :-) Oh well.

I'm considering opening up whiling wonky's popcorn! Made that fabulous vanilla flavoured, orange-tang-touched butter popcorn! Most fabulous ever! And meat chips also happened by accident on frying salami cut into nachos look alikes.

Wait up! Here's a ping pong bat...will you play me?

...why am I reminded I'm alone in a lonely way? Got no issues with the former. Annoying the way it makes its presence felt with the help of the jelly legging latter, like sudden twitches of the leg making you start up in retinas otherwise glazing over. No matter what one says it'll never be ever. What makes the loneliness seep beyond the fine line of alone is the dual knowledge that you feel a constant and that the rest aren't or so it seems. Then constant is tossed on it's side and snoozes snugly but still ticking though a lil sluggish now. Alone makes its way through lonely by blaring at the other while I'm having it good and not knowing. Or so I believe. So it is nice to think so. So consolatory. Fairness. Glitches in so called constant time...when I haven't been what I want others to be. So we fill in the gaps like chocolate sauce in cookie ridges. Just isn't that sweet. Guess it's all tolerated for those moments when we're in step.

Mashed Potatos

I like the Contours. And I pretend to be able to jive pretty well in my head. Or else I should just go with calling this post 'the world's always 3 drinks behind' as Bogart said. But sometimes it's such a dizzy I dunno who's ahead.

Average life it seems. Nothing really wrong. But it's buzzing with flies waiting to land on the stink about to ensue! One of them being owing p'dner a lot. Literally and otherwise. Sometimes nothing seems enough. Literally yes. 68. That's all I got. Otherwise... wish I could erase some and flick the grubby lead into a black hole. Or mix and match to every varying sense of perfection that accosts her at every step. Or at the least conduct a lobotomy. But then she would've never been her. I don't know the answer to mind block, contentment, tossing baggage. Baah! Incompetent. It feels crazy and freakishly so like bald tyres going wonky on roads. When an integral part of you needs the rest and you just can't get the grease in the right grooves. Terrible mechanic indeed. I just ride my bike and drive my car. I don't know what makes it move apart from the gas. Peering under the hood or letting the mechanic grope under my bike only reinstates helpless. In the former I know only the radiator. In the latter I know he's just unplugged the spark and taking me for my ride indeed. Wish I knew all the hows...

All day I've been having the smell of orange rind strung to my nostrils. Thanks to a 4 am sms on flavoured butter popcorn from P'dner (after which my nose was on high alert through fat mosquitos' drones and sudden bursts of jazz piano from the radio). Loverly indeed! 100 gms butter with dried corn in presure cooker. Here the crackle. Open up and dunk powdered orange rind, seeds of vanilla (where am I going to get that here?! In the city of sickeningly sweet Vanilla essence Arun Ice Creams!) and sugar. Bliss! What a happy world! Pthisssh!