Breaking morning and fast the nice way

Last night began my obsession with myself, once again, when I checked my weight. It was (is) less than 50 kg, the weight a teenage boy will be happy to brag about. I freaked out. Also, last evening I thought I kicked the butt (not speaking metaphorically) of my cigarette, believing it would be my last stub until the weekend. Foot in mouth. Turns out, my body calls for nicotine. I never want to quit, but I want to be in control of myself. Kick in my own butt (again, not speaking metaphorically).

I got up in the morning and prepared myself a healthy breakfast. A very healthy one. My roommate saw that with gleaming eyes and begged if she could take to work the sandwich I had made, because she was running late. I had an idea she would do that, so I made some noise, but then gave in. Also, I had hidden some more cut tomatoes and potatoes, with which I made myself another sandwich. Here’s my feat:

Half the sandwich is eaten. I was very hungry. Looks much better than a cigarette and tea for breakfast 😀 Look what I have created! I have made breakfast! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vP2P8mhif-g

After that I started thinking about how five days ago my dad sent me a facebook friend request, and how I was losing sleep over that. In the beginning I was mad as to why my dad needed to be so technologically advanced now, but then later I started feeling guilty. I started thinking of his effort of going to create an account on Facebook to add his daughter and son. Our only common friend is my brother, and I have not yet accepted his friend request. Because wisdom prevailed, and I remembered how my dad is like the Puss in the Boots character from Shrek – using emotional drama to entrap me, and then wielding his true self, to slay me to the bits. He has the mind of a politician, and the heart of a child. But that does not make him cool, because he is a very conservative person. I am not going to accept his friend request. I love you to the bits dad, and so I will not accept your friend request. I just called him up and talked to him and mom.

Later, under the pretext of returning the Zippo lighter I had bought a couple days ago, which would not work, I went to buy cigarettes. He said I needed to refuel it, and asked me for my ID. Damn! I told him I always bought cigarettes from him, but he thought I was lying, and said that he had never seen me before. My determination made me go back and get my ID. I don’t take it as a compliment when someone thinks that my age is less than 21. It makes me feel that I look like a silly teenager. And the fact that I cannot convince them that I am way past the age of 21 makes me feel that I even look immature. I sometimes feel like showing them my greys, which I have not yet learned to not hide.

I came back home, and refueled and cleaned my Zippo lighter. The lighter wheel is kind of jammed too, and so I put some oil to loosen it up, but that caused the lighter to not light up properly. I will give it a rest. I do not want to part with it yet, because it is cool metallic blue in colour, and has my favourite sign, that of peace, on it.

One finds ways to be happy, and reasons to be sad. My reasons to be sad are worth it, and I will find ways to be happy. Hell yeah! :p

 

Her crazy love

She had imagined what no one had done

She had been to the sea with him where no one had swum before

They had lied on golden sands, which was untouched

They had made sweet love in a forest, where leaves had rustled only because of the moving wind

They had grabbed the unseen stars, and placed it between their lips, before kissing

She had lived in the house he had imagined

Her crazy love..oh her crazy love!

She was not afraid of anything anymore

Not even seeing him walk away

She had seen it all, felt it all, before anyone else

Kids, I say

His name is Benjamin, but everyone calls him Benny. He has curly curly hair, just like his mom’s, but they are golden, unlike his mom’s. He sneezes a lot, and is irritated and snotty because of cold. He fumbles, walks, falls. He looks at me a lot, and shows me every toy he has. He plays hide-and-seek with me. His eyes are large, pure. I look deeper into them, but can’t decide on the colour – green, blue, brown. My friend clips his hair up with my hair pin, because every time he sneezes, falls, it falls on his face.

Little Benny finally makes me cry silently, secretly. Kids! I say!

No Smoking – a review

Last night I was smoking. My housemate, like many times before, came up to me and started yelling at me. She asked me to stop it, because it’s harmful for me. I told her that I was aware of all the consequences, and smoke because I want to, I like to. I have told her this so many times. And then again she says – Fuck you! I am passive smoking, it is affecting me. And then I go – Ah! Why don’t you cut the crap and come to the point then? It affects you, and that’s your problem, not mine. She made a face at me and left. Well, I only smoke inside my room and she claims that the smoke reaches hers, which is downstairs. So I just smile.

This reminded me today of a Bollywood movie called No Smoking, by Anurag Kashyap. Anurag Kashyap is a rare gem, a director who expresses himself in the most brutally delicate ways possible. Bollywood has not given him his dues, but he does not give a fuck.

No Smoking has the dumbest actor Bollywood has got in its lead, an average actress playing his wife, and two of the best character actors playing awesome roles. This movie failed miserably at box office. K is an arrogant chain-smoker, and the movie’s plot runs about him trying to quit smoking, because people around him want him to. Everyone watched it, its histrionics and tricks and dream world, and thought it was a movie about smoking. The movie is anything but about smoking. It has a deep meaning to it, I believe. Anurag Kashyap is not a director who creates movies to surprise, to show off. This movie has a really deep meaning to it.

K signs himself up for quitting smoking, because people want him to. Much like how you sign up for things you do not want to do, but because people want you to do them. His arrogance and narcissism, though pungent, are silent metaphors for rebellion. Not the for-the-heck-of-it-rebellion, but genuine rebellion. He finds out that he has signed up for something bizarre, something that he cannot sign himself out of anymore. The consequences of smoking are going to cost him things that are dear to him. He is shown fear. If he does not follow the rules, he will lose things and people in his life, one by one. Much like how you are forced to do things in life out of fear, than volition. You have to go by the rule book, by what others have written down for you, and not by your own will. Your actions that can possibly affect only you, but they are thwarted, because do not have a choice. In the end, the thing that he loses is his soul. He has quit smoking, but his soul watches his body that has quit smoking, and is in a room with his people. He has sold himself out, sold out his soul. He did not quit because he wanted to, but because others wanted him to. Smoking has probably been chosen by Anurag because of its strong emphasis. It is unarguably bad for health, and smokers and non-smokers alike cannot argue about it. I am sure it has been chosen as a prop very intelligently.

In this life, a lot of people want you to do things that they want you to do. They do not have a good argument to support their claims, and when asked for one, it’s an emotional barrage.

Peace.

Shadows

Shadow of the day, shadow of the night

A shadow walks with me, a shadow that’s mine

Moving shadow of the unmoving tree, telling me the time

Shadow on the ground of the bird in the sky

A shadow that follows me in the alleyway

A shadow of the stranger who is not mine

Flower children…

We can rock it all night long….darling….https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOniR2N63zQ

Mornings and cigarettes

Every morning when you get up, you do not know how the day ahead is going to be like. Happy, sad, meh, drunk, sober, crazy. disappointing, etc. You do not know how many black hair you are going to watch with a heavy heart head to the tub hole. You do not know how many greys you are going to spot in the mirror. You do not know anything. Before I begin with this drag, I need time all for myself. I am grateful when I get up, to have lived another day. To celebrate that, every morning, I light my Black cigar, drink my cuppa tea, and listen to music. All the while I also miss my Black cigarettes 😦 Sigh!

Just a couple days ago I finally understood why my favourite brand of cigarettes are sold as mini cigars in the USA. Djarum Black clove cigarettes is something that I got hooked on to about a year ago. I love them.

A dude in Indonesia invented clove cigarettes, because smoking hurt his lungs, but he loved to smoke. Love him. But the poor guy eventually died of lung cancer 😦

In the USA, all flavoured cigarettes except for menthol got banned, in 2009. Bloody sucky menthols stayed. Why should FDA decide what I should smoke and what I should not? I instead buy the cigar version of Djarum Black, which I do not like much. They are pretty hard, and do not give the same feeling of the cigarettes. Cigars are not covered under FDA, and that’s the loophole that was found by these cigarette manufacturers. Crazy crazy crazy…

 

Good talks

Past two days have been great. I had awesome conversations with two friends – a new friend and a very old one.

My first conversation was on the top-most open deck of a boat, in a dark drizzly night, with a friend who was sad that he was leaving and that we did not hang out often. We were cruising in the Atlantic. We talked about stuff like job, money, happiness, etc. His eyes kept going back to a guy who had a nice ass. He told me that he was an ass-person, and I told him I was a calves-person. We had a great time. Later he left, and I had one of the best alone moments of my life. I could not wish to be anywhere else, doing anything else. It was perfect. Not even almost perfect, just perfect.

My second conversation was with one of my best friends, who was my partner for most part of my life until now. I do not like the term ex. We are still very close to each other, and ex brings in the element of distance, parting. The term is probably more suited for people who cannot be friends with their previous partners, and think that it’s a bad idea to stay in touch with them. Anyway, we had one of the best conversations last night. He told me about a beautiful moment he shared with the woman in his life. It is all very complicated between them, but the moment that he shared, was simple. And utterly divine. He shared a beautiful story with me. I almost had tears in eyes, because I have only been watching love stories on TV for a long time, and listening to a true one, from someone who has experienced it, is utter joy. He knew I would know what it would mean like, and so he shared it with me. He could not contain his happiness. He later asked me about how things were with me, but could not understand most of what I was trying to tell him. In the beginning he was worried, but then later he understood, that it’s about feeling true love that not many people are lucky to feel. I do not have the person I love in my life, but I have experienced love like never before, because of him, and he probably does not even know that. My friend said that I was adjusting, by trying to say that I was content with everything in my life. Well, happiness and sadness are caused by external factors, mostly dependent on others. But contentment, it is something I have earned for myself, and no one can fuck with it. He found it difficult to decipher this, but eventually realized that things are good. It never is easy, and things can be messed up big time. But it’s all fine.

Here’s for the guy, who taught me what love can be like – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9BbUqHrWFI

❤

More weird shit

Sleep is super incubation. Something I learned in class, and something that I believe in myself. I have solved so many tough Math problems just after some sleep, which I could not get my head around before, I have stumbled across solutions for my problems after a good sleep.

So yeah, I just had a siesta. It was not nice, because I got up due to hot flushes. But  I got the motivation for doing something that I have been thinking of doing for six months now. I have been thinking of maintaining a people diary, to write down what I think of the people I care about, I do not give a fuck about etc. About the people who say something, but act differently, about the people whose behaviours are odd in some or the other way. I have always wanted to do this, for quite a few reasons. Before I went to sleep, I had had a chat with a friend who was amazed at how well I can read people’s minds (covered in vanity, I know 🙂 ). She said some more things, but I will reserve them for now. When I got up now, I realized why two people said/did something recently which I had found odd, and could not find the reasoning behind their behaviours. And. And. And. I have been watching Sherlock Holmes for some time now. Heehee.

Another set of reasons. I have been dabbling with the idea of writing something on EQ and IQ. I don’t think I have very high quotient of either of them, but there is a lot of stuff that keeps me wondering. It’s not the usual writing stuff. I want to find out more about these things. I have some theories running in my head. I want to check if they are true. People diary it is. Being alone has its benefits – you do weird shit, you keep your weird shit to yourself, you have lots of time to do weird shit. Also, if I misread someone in the wrong way, it is not going to affect me much; I am a person with hardly any scruples.

It’s almost funny, how I describe that I am gonna be more wasted, vain, judgmental 😀

Not a black night

A bay leaf fell into the hot pan. Wait! No, not the smell. It was about the colours this time. Yeah, the colours.

He wore a white shirt. She wore a black dress.

The brown and green bottles, glass goblets, they all carried golden drinks in them.

The night must have been silver probably, they would not know, because they were not looking at the sky this time. Because they were not looking at each other. They were too much not looking at each other. So they did not know if the night was silver.

The grass in the park used to be green. And dancing. It still is. But not the grass that was rolled and passed, between fingers. It was brown and grey, and dead.

The song was the same. No woman, no cry. They listened to it together, among people, between themselves.

The morning was blue, with silhouettes of trees and birds waking up.

His black heart burned her white soul. The fire was so blinding, nobody could see anything. There were grey ashes left behind. Of course, of burned cigarettes.

The sun rose, and it was yellow.

What was to happen? How were they to survive? How, with so much of black and white and grey and silver and golden and rainbows?