And maybe one day

I will go to sleep, and not have to wake up at all.

Aaaaaaaaa, ants!

My bed is infested with ants. They are back. This is a disaster.

In other news, Kombol has a new home. The Mad Hatter shall henceforth be known as the Mad Catter.

Kitten Update

Kombol's would be new home has not worked out. The family has never had a pet before, and clearly had no idea what it entailed. None of the people we met were interested in the kitten, and the would be owner was away at college. Also they were horribly disappointed that she is a stray, and not a Persian. In order to stop her from running out onto the street, they wanted to tie the poor baby up, or keep her locked in a 3ft x 3ft x 1 ft birdcage. Not surprisingly, we brought her back. So the home-hunt is still on. Any suggestions, please?

Moan

I dressed up very prettily today, and then B and I had a perfectly lovely lunch date (Hau Hua is incredible!), and then my wallet got stolen at Oxford Bookstore. Bloody thief. Bloody bookstore. I kept my wallet on a pile of books, moved away about 3 steps, and came back in less than 5 seconds, and it was gone! According to the store assistants, their surveillance system consists of scrolling/streaming video, and nothing is actually recorded. What the fuck? I asked what they do in case someone lifts a book—apparently, nothing; on an average, thirty books are lifted every month, supposedly. I don't bloody believe them.

Items lost: Rs. 620 in cash, house keys, one passport size photograph of myself, hundreds of thousands of receipts, some visiting cards, and assorted crumpled bits that are important only to me. And a very nice wallet. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

The last time B and I were out dressed formally, he lost his phone. Conclusion: I must not wear a saree on dates.

P.S.: I have Bartimaeus, part 2, and Kombol has found a home, and Hanky cheered me up with tea. And I did have a rather great afternoon. So some consolation.

In Which We Intimate Many Things

Okay, been very lazy and putting off blog post for a long time. Short updates, ergo.

Was very ill for a couple of days about two weeks ago. Stomach infection. Still somewhat bothered. But wonderful afternoon-evening spent with P, D and B.

Belgian chocolates are YUMMM. And Lucky Strikes. Every Amreek-returning person must now bring me Belgian chocolates and/or Lucky Strike Silvers. Otherwise, I shall disown or nag them—whichever they dislike more.

My employers are bleddy morons. One of the cheques was returned by the banks because it was post-dated. Bleddy 2009! I have sent irate email demanding new cheque and reimbursement for hassle incurred.

I have two pairs of nice new shoes. For a total of Rs. 480! Muahaha. Blessed be Donut and Parzan (like Tarzan) for traipsing patiently all over New Market, and Waffle, who was there part of the way. The jutis are pretty, but the stilettoes are really sexy. Sample this:

I bought the first of the Bartimaeus books, and I am hooked. Have nagged Hanky into the conviction that she must buy the other two for me as an advance birthday gift. To be given NOW.

Watched The Invasion. Had me terrified in bits, towards the beginning, but then blithered and blathered and degenerated into this bleh piece of extraordinary badness. And Daniel Craig—what perfectly disastrous hair! My lust, it recedes.

Am not talking to my dad. Big bad fight with him.

The camera and I are making friends with each other. Though the picture quality for the night images is sorely inadequate (since I hate using the flash), I am adoring it. And clicking like mad.

I am bored; I want work. Academics is not particularly interesting at the moment. And am not feeling too inspired or creative, either. Best time to do boring work and earn money, therefore.

Kombol is a tiny little kitten that a friend found on the streets last week. She's black, with a white belly and limbs, excitable, and very very adorable. The friend, alas, has four cats—two of whom have been recently sterilised—and cannot provide permanent shelter for her. In fact, she can't keep it for longer than this weekend. If we don't find an adoptive parent soon, the poor orphan baby will have to be turned out into the streets. Would you like to have her? Or do you know someone who would? My friend will take care of sterilisation in a few months' time. These are two videos of her:





I want her bad, but my mum won't let me keep a cat. :(

Teleute, defined.

[noun]: A master blogger
[noun]: A master of storytelling

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com


I wish I had a story to tell, something to do. I'm feeling restless.

I have an exciting new camera, and am relatively rich at the moment. But now is not the time for that. This ennui is... dire.

Teleute [noun]: A person of questionable sanity who starts their own cult

About right.

The Life and Times of TinyToots, an Excerpt

Yesterday, I jumped into a bucket. Quite by accident, though. I was sitting on the windowsill of my bathroom and quietly enjoying my smoke. But I forgot that the bucket was underneath while getting off. So bucket and I fell. And there was a loud sound. And I hurt my knee. And the handle of the bucket came off, and I fixed it again with some difficulty. Very undignified. Somewhat bewildering as well.

And the world was out to piss me off yesterday. Prima donnas and morons and inconsiderate idiots and presumptuous bastards and plain stupid sour grapes. But Hanky and Waffle were nice to me. And I bought very beautiful notebooks. And had cherry brandy.

I have no money. Jerks made me work, but are not paying up now. Jerks. Morons. Other choice invectives. And I spent all my other money on books and food and coffee and computer things and camera. There are many people that I want to treat. But I'm so bloody broke. And my camera is on a plane. I want it. NOW.

I want two thousand rupees to buy pretty shoes and bags and t-shirts and backpack and earrings and batteries and coffee. And I want someone to buy me cigarettes. I'd like to feel pretty and pampered.

Be My Baby

The night we met, I knew I needed you so
And if I had the chance, I'd never let you go.
So won't you say you love me,
I'll make you so proud of me.
We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go.

So won't you, please, (be my, be my baby)
Be my little baby, (my one and only baby)
Say you'll be my darlin', (be my, be my baby)
Be my baby now, (my one and only baby)
Wha-oh-oh-oh.

I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see.
For every kiss you give me I'll give you three.
Oh, since the day I saw you
I have been waiting for you.
You know I will adore you 'til eternity.

So won't you, please, (be my, be my baby)
Be my little baby, (my one and only baby)
Say you'll be my darlin', (be my, be my baby)
Be my baby now, (my one and only baby)
Wha-oh-oh-oh.

So come on and, please (be my, be my baby)
Be my little baby, (my one and only baby)
Say you'll be my darlin', (be my, be my baby)
Be my baby now, (my one and only baby)
Wha-oh-oh-oh.

(Be my, be my baby), Be my little baby.
(My one and only baby), oh,
(Be my, be my baby), oh,
(My one and only baby),
Wha-oh-oh-oh-oh.

The Ronettes, 1963

Listen to it here.

There Is an End

Words disappear,
Words once so clear,
Only echoes passing through the night.

The lines on my face,
Your fingers once traced,
Fading reflection of what was.

Thoughts re-arrange,
Familiar now strange,
All my skin is drifting on the wind.

Spring brings the rain,
With winter comes pain,
Every season has an end.

I try to see through the disguise,
But the clouds were there,
Blocking out the sun (the sun).

Thoughts re-arrange,
Familiar now strange,
All my skin is drifting on the wind.

Spring brings the rain,
With winter comes pain,
Every season has an end.

There's an end,
There's an end,
There's an end,
There's an end,
There's an end.

Holly Golightly and the Greenhornes, 2005

You can listen to it here.

Fame and Celebrity

At long last! It seems that I—and this poor, hardly-used blog of mine—have finally arrived. Autograph hunters, prepare.

Wishlist

I need time. To sit and be by myself. To do nothing and just exist. To be mindless, to be blank. To talk and laugh without recapitulating. To be anonymous and alone. To quietly have my coffee and cigarette. To read my book, to sleep. No questions, no answers. I need time to not-explain, not-share.

Fruity

Hello, I am a pineapple.

Duplexitous

My Afternoon Adventure.

Are all advertisers mad?

I wrote a copy test for an advertising firm yesterday. They wanted answers that weren't direct, and asked us to think 'laterally' (as opposed to literally, as a friend puts it). One of the questions asked us to write a limerick on an existing brand of soap. For the longest time, I could think of no brands apart from Lux (rhyming with 'flux') and Palmolive (rhyming with 'die or live'). This is what I finally came up with. And then collapsed on the floor giggling.

On Jai Soap:

Jai soap ki jai ho
Keero ke dil mein bhay ho
Gandagi hatao
Badbooko bhagao
Mehkoge isse nahaya toh

I bow. And wait for the applause.

Did you know

... that a mesquite is a legume?

And here I thought that it was French for mosquito.

Sorry. I know this is stupid, but it is the most interesting thought that I have had in days. Life is... dire.

Lonely, very.

What's a tram got to do without a bus? :(

And when you walked away from me unhappy as it rained a miserable rain and turned to look but did not smile it broke my heart as I stood waiting for you to speak to me waiting waiting waiting to tell you how I felt but the phone it kept on ringing ringing and ringing so I turned around and crumpled.

Splashes of white light against a black canvas and moonlight glittering in the night sky and spilt red wine and hot molten wax and climbing to the roof of the tall tall house and looking up and looking down and laughing and chanting and sometimes just sitting quietly and staring in amazement and moments of awkwardness from not knowing what to do and gardens of bright light and visions of a place that no one else knows and I want to reach… and sometimes I remember why I could have been in love with you.

No, I do not want to steal your husband. Or your boyfriend. Or your dog. Or cow, monkey, hen, whatever.

And I really do abhor ill-mannered people.