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 stubĀ 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:

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

After that I started thinking about howĀ 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.Ā 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 feelĀ thatĀ 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

 

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Her crazy love

She had imagined what no one had done

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

They had liedĀ 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 haveĀ 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.

Mornings and cigarettes

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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 šŸ˜¦ 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 šŸ˜¦

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…