Over due

Nothing like a can of red bull sitting quietly on your table to make you wonder why you take life and phone calls seriously.

I feel combed.

Too many truths I don’t want to see

Too many lies I am trying not to speak

Too many desires I am scared to show

Too many voices I am scared to listen to

Too many glasses I want filled

Too many memories I cannot shake off.


Unquiet meditations and Zingron

I wake up to a woman fake-orgasming the crap out of her lungs on my sister’s laptop these mornings. If it was porn, I would have complained less. It’s some incessant chant to god, which is what makes this whole thing unbearably irritating. Wouldn’t prayers and meditation be a lot more worthwhile if they were done in peace, without disturbing other people’s peace?

Seems like only prayers and by that extension, religion have won this unquestioned, unchallenged privilege to obstruct other people’s peace. Everything is OK because you are calling out to fucking God. Even noise is OK, making ambulances wait because some people celebrate god on some inane day, dancing with idols on top of their heads is OK because you are calling out to God. Nobody cares that you could be dying.

Everything that religion and places of worship stand for seem adamant on destructing peace.

Anyway, what started out as a pathetic day became less pathetic after I stepped out of the house. I am becoming more and more confident about my riding. It’s beginning to get mechanical now and this scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to be thinking about almonds someday only to realise that I have crashed into a truck.

Also, the fact that my days seem to run magically smooth when I wake up early is starting to make sense to me now. My classes were fun today. Nothing was hurried or delayed, except for a work thing that managed to piss me off in ways that I haven’t been pissed off in, in a really long time.

But all was forgotten and all was well with the world again after I dined at the craziest restaurant – Zingron. Everything from the seafood noodle soup to the beef chilly to the pork spare ribs to the rice and chicken curry was delectable. I should shut the fuck up. ‘Delectable’ sounds too wrong a word to describe Zingron. It doesn’t do justice to the crazy that is zingron because it is too mild and polite a word to describe food that violated my tongue with its insane spice. It was killing me but I just wasn’t stopping. And, I do not know why.

The food was just unbelievably cruel. After a point, I couldn’t say why my head was feeling light- because of the rice wine or the food. I had menstrual cramps in my mouth when I was done.

I have never been a spicy food lover really, but Zingron has made my tongue and other parts go so numb with its overload of feeling that I don’t think they remember sweet anymore. I am not complaining. I do need a food makeover!



Meditation and working out (haha)

Meditation can be such a pain in the ass. Never works for me. Maybe it would if I take it seriously but what the hell, it is bloody difficult. I used to think meditation requires a humongous ability to concentrate and stuff but I have only just discovered that meditation can mean anything so long as you know what you are thinking. It is like being fully aware of what thoughts you give permission to enter your mind, what thoughts (bad or good) are you nourishing in your mind. Nourishing is a strange word to be using here but it makes sense. A thought becomes bigger because I nourish it. I feed it, make it healthy, take extensive support from the demons of my past, make room for all the voices in my head (not very nice voices) to be able to make the thought stronger and eventually allow it to take control of my whole mind and body and later, the whole day. 

Today I woke up feeling bothered because when I woke at 6:30, my mind wanted to go start the day early but my body convinced my mind to let go and just sleep because holidays and everything. When I finally woke up, it was 8:30 and my mind and body weren’t talking to each other. Spent the morning watching Bruce Almighty and relishing a mango. Came up to my room, cleaned a bit, played Plants vs Zombies for an hour, got mad at myself and uninstalled the game and started to write. 

I am feeling rather good about today even if it means ignoring the fact that I have to run/ walk/ do something to give my body some exercise because of something foolish I did on Sunday. I worked out at F’s gym because I am crazy that way. And now my thighs seem mad at me and I am sure they are planning a full revenge on me today. So apparently if I don’t want to walk like a zombie for the next 15 hours I have to get off my ass now and work out. Bleh.