so sue me

[This blog was inspired by a beautiful random blog I read, by an old, extremely talented schoolmate of mine]
i know, i know. Someone will never let me forget this. I deleted the last blog, I wrote. What will condone this behaviour, is the fact that it didnt hurt. You know I love you, Mappings. See it as symbolic. I wrote down my angst and pain, then i DELETED it. Aha, aha? Oh for crying out loud. You know that thing girls have? They burn their ex-es belongings or presents from them, to get rid of all the negative feelings. Not that Im a bitter ex. Ok, maybe I am. But thats not what Im here to talk about. Randomity, although I laugh at it, gives me solace, something to snuggle down on a cold day, a cookie 😀 to munch at a hungry hour, a curtain to draw on a sunny day within a dark room.
I feel very arty farty today. I think im missing Diya. I feel like unearthing all my old paints and painting a Starbucks mural on my wall. Hooray. Not the actual Starbucks motif. Lets clarify. But you know, painting complexities and clarity in different colours. all swirling and dancing into each other, making sense to no-one but you. and its your wall, so why not? I feel like writing jumbled poetry, meandering beautiful words, on yellowing and grandma paper, crumbling like flaky pastry if you arent gentle enough. I feel like wearing Victorian lace, putting on steel rimmed glasses, letting curly hair loose and playing the piano. or reading books with broken spines and fading red velvet covers. I look at the yummy row of diaries; orange, green, blue and even a gold. wow. I feel like sitting in a circle with wise people and having intellectual conversation on philosophy and literature, possibly accentuated by a ‘pencil in mouth’ and ‘nod of head’. I feel like reading more poetry than I did before. Just reading more and more, drowning in incomprehensible words of the greats. like Plath and Keats. I want to be Touched with Fire again. Only Cambridge Lit students will get that reference.
9 days before BMM and Bombay.
slam brakes. end of ride. tomorrow is just a day.
arty farty or sleep?
murals or mappings?
time will tell.
tick tock. tock tick tick tock.
same doo dahs. just a different day.

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