London

I'm big on the comfort factor. Comfort in terms of letting go. In terms of not having to watch my step. In terms of my favorite shawl on my chair. I measure everything on the comfort scale - passion, chemistry and the rain.

Comfort vis-a-vis the self has been the most elusive.

From the absolute to the relative, comfort has moved from Che to a silver maruti to a photograph of a scrabble board on a cream wall in Central london.. it has been mushroom soup on a first day and it has been huddled in the middle of overwhelming affection. Faux leather blue sofas in a once-smelly kitchen and a second hand duvet cover. Hot dogs and books under a bridge. A now-torn map. the din of the tube. There were the impersonal headphones and of course, a boat on the Thames.

the fabled new

I'm the girl in pink amidst the sea of black and grey. I'm thinking of dyeing my jacket an inconspicuous blue.

I like my freezing nose and the familiarity in the alien. I like the long walks and the 'look left' on the asphalt. I like the feeling of wanting to draw on warm, charcoal-y smoke each time I'm outside for very long. I like the feeling of extreme fatigue each time my head hits the pillow. I like watching the people dotting the square. I call it Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, for some reason.

I like that I'm dealing with change even though it seems like my head doesn't know it yet.

This one's for me.

For strings
For midnight advice at old coffee haunts
For shoe purchases and watching the world pass a deserted market by
For movie-lines and their significance in popular culture
For 9am keeping with tradition
For closing distances in food
For so-sure that it's scary
For so-much..so-much
For floating time warps
For teaching calm
For taxi-ing before take-off
because clean slates never anchor.

the me, without

For the stranger without.
The need to be with someone arises squarely from wanting to tell someone about ourselves.

Lately..

..So lately..

I have bought books I do not need. Loved looking through piles in the old bazaar. Through the sweat. Through the romance novels I cannot (I have tried, but I just cannot sift through the complications) read. Through budgeting for my much-hyped fly from the coup. Looked through swanky bookshelves - mentally ticking off the titles I've always wanted to read. And those I know I should before I'm 25. I do not want to be caught drunk saying Das Urteil, What??

Oh, and one title I totally loved was "Life..and Changing Socks"!

Filling silences in every conversation is annoying. But what when you still go back to those conversations? Why do you?

Also, this one is long overdue..
7am scrabble. 1am and 3am drunken squabble. hangovers. feet on dining tables. crimson and jam. terracota and green. balcony. dove. 4am toothbrushes. tears in 002. trying and laughing. trying and fighting. heard of. seen now. saree at sunset. italian and beef and fried chicken and chinese and appams and KPs and eggs. bread buys grocery store tantrums. entrances. imaged. TC rooms. post office-induced exasperation. goosebumps and traffic. bakery? cluedo and prickly carpets. beer and beer.

But I only like choosing crayons.

Today's a blue moon day in all its glory. Slothful, gnawing, cathartic.
There were notions and issues that gushed out. Of blueberry muffins and familiar smells. Of coloured tshirts and ipod speakers. Of tantrums that will be left incomplete.

Pullin' the puzzles apart. and the shoebox and combination of words.
I absolutely hate it when every cliche and every song, seems true.

So..how can I cross the bridge if I never want to come to it?

Totally unconnected. But I wish life lived in Bangalore. I'd even settle for Bombay. Probably.

unemployed speak

Sloth is a lifestyle choice I highly recommend. That, and a good dentist and you're done till you're 40.