How much diagonally can one lie on a single bed? Depression, self-loathing shortly ensues. ImissyouImissyouImissyou. You don't mind that my hair sprouts from the center of my head, and thus ends up everywhere. You don't mind my debauched vocabulary or my inexcuse for experiencing carnal pleasure. Who are you anyway? So far off, imaginary daydream of mine. Whatever it is, just know that I have memorized your scent by heart. Know that I am tired of daily successes (like finishing that fucking book already) and daily failures (the inability to get out of bed). I emailed them, after I finally forced myself to figure out what the problem was (because it's never me, you know), and apparently they don't make superhero garb in my size. How fucking fantastic, right? At least now I have a legitimate excuse for being a downright cunt.
'Excuse me, are you on the job today?'
'No, you fucker. Every day is off day for me. I win'

Note: this is attributed to
http://chocomallow.blogspot.com/2011/05/jd-salinger-sine-qua-non.html

The story- Part 1

They all reacted differently to my grandmother’s death... I can remember my father’s face...stoic..as he heard the news ..The woman he had looked up to, been in awe of, respected feared and loved for the last 40 years was now nothing more than a clump of bone and flesh... I could hear mother sobbing in the kitchen... I was considered too small.. of course, to be told the news straight away...

It was broken to me , as always, in the form of a story..on the ride to the village , where we were all gathering to pay our last respects. On most occasions, I hated going back to the village,. The lack of cable and early morning show cartoons being the chief reason for my disgust (“What god forsaken place does not have cable these days Papa?” but I knew that this time, all my cousins would be assembling ...extended families from all over the globe..

We reached there by the afternoon and in the evening my father took me out for one of our customary evening walks..I rather looked forward to them.. they were our chance to bond as a father and son.. we who were otherwise too wrapped up in our own worlds..him with his office and me with school...worlds with problems far too important than the mere death of a person

I remember that talk clearly.. most clearly ot of all the ones that we have had.. and I will always remember it as the day that my father finally broke down

I will digress here and give a thought to the fact that my grandfathers(from both side of families) , could not outlast my grandmothers by more than two months.. I suppose it says something about the men of our family..

When it came down to it really, the dynamics were simple.

They would all go, and the body would be cremated where the last 3 generations of the family had been cremated(ever since the family ..(or thos who had survived).. had come over from Pakistan.

Buit such matters were not seen fit to tell little boys in those days. Matters of the gravest concern, especially, were discussed in the living room of the house owned by Uncle. The eldest son, almost 12 years elder to my father. This was done after all the children had been put to sleep.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul: Pablo neruda

'I don't want to be human! I want to see gamma rays, I want to hear x-rays, and I...I wanna smell dark matter. Do you see the absurdity of what I am? I can't even express these things properly because I have to...I have to conceptualize complex ideas in this stupid, limiting, spoken language!'



Did I not tell you, that words are such imperfect instruments to express all the multitudinous hues and shades of human experience



Like.. what is the word when you feel you almost remember a thing but never quite remember it



Or a love which is not quite love



I need to write soon.. or I will die