shoe therapy

i bought new mojris - white, just the right kind of toes, with sequins and embroidery. byoooooooooootiful. to divert attention from the fact that i bought yet another pair of shoes i got my dad a nice spray, which he immediately pounced on and then asked "isn't there anything else?"i pointed out that he was being an avaricous and materialistic old man, he took offence at my usage of the word 'old'.

to my mother, housekeeper, I, R, niece, the goat farm man, the man my mother met and bebrothered three years back when she went on a research trip, his daughter and said daughter's classmate, and our next door neighbour's man friday Khogen, I had to justify my purchase ( which seems an entirely normal thing to do - why not, the world can have its opinion on the micro aspects of my life) by stating categorically that i had no footwear to complement the stuff i would be required to wear for S's anniversary.

a volley of questions followed on the general theme of why is S celebrating his anniversary (because that's what people do when they have been married for a year and he still likes his wife),will i dress up in normal people clothes (like i wear rags or dress like a goth, but i'd have to dress up because thats what is required of still tanaciously befriended friends of one's husband) and did i get them anything ( no, i saw the perfect gift after a week and a half of deliberations and i forgot to buy them when i saw my mojris)

actually my new shoes are a kind of crutch. S has been a friend for ever - probably twenty years now. i like his wife a lot, and were one of the few people who could see that this one was THE one and probably the only one who knows the daily chronicles of how things went on from sharing the same shuttle to work to sharing the same toothbrush holder in that blue chipped basin. and i was the only reason why that wedding was postponed and held in the middle of searing summer, so i could be there. that is one thing that i can never get over. its my special feel good thing when i'm feeling low. but i digress. the whole thing is that while the relationship progressed, i was away. i was not part of the coffee and movies and eating out and sunday morning things. the rest of them and their new ( to me) partners were. i still don't have that same comfort level and though there is enough mutual liking, i am still scared of doing things wrong. its a complicated balance of letting my own friendship survive, letting a new one grow, taking care that i don't misstep boundaries - real or imagined and a lot of cleaning up my act around someone i'd ideally like to be just myself with.

people assume that dating is a complicated game. no, it bloody well is not. it is something that you throw your whole self into - a 'take it or leave it, this is me' kind of thing ( i refuse to entertain any insight on the charades performed at the altar of a quick one). but friendship is turning out to be even more complicated. possibly because they are very important and the ones that you love totally. but then again extending that train of arguement, love could be as complicated, but whatever. now i'm confusing myself.

the whole thing is that i'm scared that tomorrow i'd say or do something wrong, i'd be the one to give the wrong thing, i'd be the one to dress up all wrong, laugh at the wrong timings and all the other women will eye me up when i laugh too much, make other people laugh too much and crack an insider joke and then suck at explaining. dressing nice and killer shoes should give me some added boost of confidence (if cosmo is to be believed). because right now, thinking about tomorrow night is making me very nervous. i feel like a beetle - not the car, the shiny black insect. and if i do things the wrong way, i will probably be treated like one too.

kaka is so cute, but i wanted ghana to win. sniff.

give me some sand. i'll bury my head in it and never get out, except to finish up the rest of the macaroons, the 3 remaining ysl slims and the unread 7/10th of birds without wings.

rakhi sawant was being interviewed by pooja bedi, who adopted a very patronising and hostile tone. i resented that. people, and rakhi sawant, should not be shut out without any effort to hear them. but i've had a bad day which started obscenely early and trailed off at ten without a clear closure. i also had to buy flowers for other people. so my judgement is not at its best.
i will go see a movie as soon as i wake up tomorrow and if there are stinky socks, i will hunt them out, kick them around and make them eat their own toejam, thinly spread over stale and dry creamcracker biscuits. i will be a proactive person.

no coffee, no cigarettes, no time, gin fizz tasted like toothpaste and the screwdriver watery, cryptic ims, brother disappeared without a trace, self treated like a fifteen year old boy, no-one updates blogs except clublife, one more invitation to orkut, no-one appreciates new red skirt, also saw edible thongs for work (not that kind of work and its too long an explanation for now), and they're all made with pepperminty candy things which taste like chalk, four more days to waddle through, and horribly distasteful people coming for lunch on sunday.
but it turned cloudy and the ham salad was good. the day wasn't a total loss.
ambivalence describes my attitude towards tomorrow.

i want to climb into a big box and stay on top of the wardrobe forever.

did two things i wanted to do with all my heart. one was to watch MI3 and the other was to bake a devil's food cake. tom cruise is superawesome. yes, he IS indeed the male answer to jolie and wins hands down anyday. scientology and leaping on the couch notwithstanding, he is the ultimate pin-up material. though typing this sentence makes me feel a wee bit disloyal towards george clooney (why, i always wanted to fit in).
i had to wake up obscenely early, go without my coffee and was in a horrible mood. called a not-so-deserving friend a bloody stupid fuck for no good reason and boiled in the heat, getting elbowed by half of calcutta who were gleaming, dazzling and tinkling in loud attires that had no business being out of the wardrobe on a sunday morning at 9:30 with the humidity upto the 90's. but the movie made up for most of it. also, being misinformed by well-meaning souls, i kept expecting to see tom cruise die in the first half. so things were super tense for me, while friends who did not have that insider knowledge were relatively chilled, except when they spotted their mobile phone on the screen and had to be restrained by force and later disowned for the emotional outbursts that occurred more than once.
later, i also managed to handle two consecutive lunches, get a ninety minute nap with my mouth open - 3 inches i'm told, and baked a cake from scratch in 25 minutes flat. knowing that i can still bake makes me feel smug

gaaaaahhhhhhhhh. that's all. thank you very much.

perfect friday. came home early, had dinner, ondaatje in the basket, not too tired and its raining. life's blissful. braindead freaks and unimaginative morons with goatee, ponytail AND celluloid framed specs may have ruined my day and will possibly pull a repeat performace tomorrow, but right now i am winning.

i have stopped being a cigarette slut. i just can't smoke other brands of cigarettes - no matter how good. makes me slightly sad thinking of all the fun i may be missing out on. and this streak of commitment shows itself at a time when i no longer smoke more than two cigarettes a day. some days its down to one.
going downstairs for a smoke at two in the afternoon is downright hazardous. walking across to the other side of the road felt like i was swimming through fire. watching fat marwari ladies in magenta and lime green saris made me feel like someone was putting hot skewers through my eyeballs. they reciprocated the feeling with heartfelt enthusiasm.
someday i'll quit smoking entirely and use cigarettes solely for sticking the lit ends into people. when i'm done with them, i'll make them eat the filters.

a day for you

its one of those grey afternoons. the sky seems too low and every noise very sharp against a backdrop of stark silence. not that there is much noise to start with, even the birds have gone quiet.
there is a small park in the square, off a little chapel. some people go inside. somehow the dark silence within is not too welcoming. the park has old fashioned carved wooden benches. on top of a small hillock in the park there is a tiny enclosed look-out point that offers a view of the lake. very still this morning.
suddenly the sky seems to come and kiss the ground. it starts snowing. powdery droplets turn into feathery flakes and then the wind turns harsher and the snow gritty. it feels like a sharp point of pain against the skin, but the cold numbs it out fast. the flower barrow packs up. in its hurry it leaves a few carnations strewn in the ground. the bright flowers lying uncared for and half covered in snow look tragically brave.
there is an ancient italian cafe across the street. instead of a deli it comes with a bookstore. the interiors are darkwood and not well-lit, there is a strange flickering glow inside, but not much light to be see. the wooden door with brass knockers seem austere but inviting. there is actually a log-fire roaring inside. but the armchairs by the baywindow overlooking the street are too far from it. the coffeetables are set heavy with browser's selections . the cafe is cold enough - the fire seeems to create a visual imagery , but not much savage warmth. but the respite from the lashing wind is more than enough. the christmasy smell of freshly roasted coffee beans, cinnamon and nutmeg waft in. the promise of comfort and an unclaimed afternoon knows how to work its charm.
the grey gradually turns to a deep purple twilight before giving in to inky darkness. the snowing has stopped, but the cobbled stones paving the street are completely covered in white. the biting cold is turning it into ice, beautifully translucent, but dangerous. stray lights and people are now to be seen, voices and music drift in. turning the corner there is a a group of people , wonderfully alive, playing on an odd assortment of instruments. not so young anymore, but not old enough to fade into the background. they sell music, two minutes of unmeasured conversation, and mulled wine over an open fire. they strike a jarring note against the bleak night.
the wind has died down and it has stopped snowing. the cold is ruthless now. it is an unhurried, passive chill that reaches to the core. but that sharpness also has a cleansing quality. with each breath that burns itself down the throat, the system gets rinsed. with a startling clarity of vision, a tomorrow is seen - one that takes away a bit farther and then quite some way far. seems the only way to go.

i don't want the week to start. can't find money, phone or shantaram. howl howl howl.

this week has been unusually long and the weekend - though i tried my best to start it on wednesday (unsuccessfully) - unaccountably short. we went out every night of the week with religious fervour, but by general consensus sleeping it in is the best option. three sleepovers in the week has made a new convert out of me. it felt almost as good as THE vacation.
started off withR coming to town, picked momentum with the soccer world cup kickoff, reached climax with a rerun sleepover needed to check that it works in every location and without occasion. though i dodge the odd aam and fish that come my way, i'm still bengali enough to get a new tv for phootball. the occasion called for technologically not-as-retarded people coming over with chinese food, dvd's ( no mycotoxin, we did not get to watch kung-fu hustle either, everyone opted for roman holiday and i am in love with gregory peck, but more on that later). but we made the earth shattering discovery that we are now old - so old that we diss dancing in favour of playing uno (for players upto12 years, and i still didn't understand the instructions) till three in the morning.
everyone in torn t-shirts and crumpled pj's, some shared clothes giving rise to severe gender confusion to certain people who had to be convinced that their masculity was not compromised by cross-dressing (outright lie, looked like a little girl), squabbling for space, battle over remote rights, pillow talk on the profound topic of merits of a chocolate sundae, waking up to a lazy morning with friends - just what life should be like. as was pointed out by pragmatic people, if only we had an invisible cash flow.
but returning to the topic of greg peck - ooooooooooooooooooooooooooof. i'm totally besotted with him. if only men now knew how to carry a suit with such easy elegance and still be cool and be as dishy and have that dry but kind style under a veneer of confidence bordering on arrogance and, and, and ...

taiwanese scientists created green, glow in the dark pigs. people of little faith refuse to believe me. why do most people fail to get how important it is to believe impossible things? not quite six, just two or three would suffice. and they don't really have to do it all before breakfast either.

83% of my energy went in having to directly deal with pin-headed morons throughout the day, the rest of it went away on its own after listening to hours of overheard(involuntarily) conversation about bappi lahiri, "boyjone" and "clibhayj". now bappi may have manboobs that require a training bra for plus sizes, but surely he does not have a clibhayj?
only good part of the day, no himesh so far.