Diwali

I spent a very pretty Diwali. MB came to pick me up early in the evening, and I went to her house.; Spent most of the evening watching Laws of Attraction, and drank a bit of vodka - which MB's father had laced with enough Sprite with to make me burp to just smell the drink, but the gesture of alcohol was greatly appreciated. And then we went up to the terrace to watch her cousin and his friends burst crackers. And I watched people, and the lights. Oh the lights. And for a moment, as I sat there on my little stool, carefully burning phuljhuris and rong moshaals that MB lit and brought to me, and saw the lights around me, bright, dazzling, blinding, I tripped. On lights and smoke and the smell of burning suplhur and vodka, and a sharp, intense feeling of being alive. And then the lights faded and blurred, and I was far away. I don't think I have mood swings as much as detachment swings.
We watched The Interpreter after that, and had Thai Rice and Konjee Crispy Chicken for dinner, and turned down offers of more Sprite drowned vodka. MB and I chatted for a long time, about girlie things and silly things and other arbitrary strange things, smoking cigarettes in the dark after we were sure that her parents were asleep. After she fell asleep, I read a Nora Roberts to the end. I'm addicted to romance novels. It was five when I went to bed, and the birds were just beginning to stir. 'Twas dark, though. Lazy sun.
I awoke at noon to yummy cheese omelettes that MB had made - though I'd woken up sufficiently earlier to blearily peer at a newspaper article in which I'd been quoted, and to announce that I wouldn't be getting out of bed before noon. 'Twas a good day, as well.

I find myself unable - these days - to sleep at night and be awake in the mornings. I'm not sure why.