Right now, all the fireflies in the world have settled on the amberella tree outside my window.

Together, we wait for the rain to stop.

S is back tomorrow, or possibly very late tonight. In the 10 days he’s been gone, I’ve been drifting around the house, Ms. Havisham like, trailing smoke and enjoying the silence. A decided enough was enough on Friday, and I ended up spending the night at her house, where we watched planet earth (really, how cool is that set?) and hung out on her terrace. From our perch, up there on the 7th floor, we could see straight into the neighbouring houses.  Apartment living really does encourage voyeurism; you watch, somewhat diverted, as inside each brightly lit box people get on with the arduous business of living . (Unfortunately, no one was having wild-monkey-sex.) Also, occassionally, you find someone looking right back at you. <claustrophobia>

Stayed up till 4 a.m last night with K, D and R. Despite none of us managing to get good and stinking drunk, E’s balcony was all we needed to unwind completely. Her house is out in the boondocks, and actually affords a view - paddy fields by night. 

Sab is back in town, and she brought me the Graveyard Book. (I dig that Gaiman posted the entire book online for free and managed to top the best seller lists pretty much simultaneously.) What with all the wonderful downloads I’ve got going, the end of mediscene week chaos, and the pizza that just arrived, I’m feeling optimistic.

Rumour has it that this week is going to be better than the last.

J’s gift to me: bracelets made out of punching little cylinders through a pair rubber flipflops that, along with many hundreds of other pairs, washed up somewhere in Kenya. Comes with its own snazzy little certificate, fancy box with padding and a brochure. (by ten thousand villages)

So a pizza in Regina Margherita’s wood fired brick oven takes 3 1/2 minutes to bake. Some idiot over at the sub desk decided this could not be possible…and switched minutes with hours. HOURS!

aargh. 

<eats cheese flavoured coal>

so. I’m on my way home in a wheeler and my driver is twitching. uncontrollably. I can see him doing it in the rear-view mirror. the twitch starts at his hand when it closes convulsively around the accelerator, and then travels up his forearm to create the jerk that first got my attention. I watch in terrible fascination as first his eye and then the right side of his face contort. This happens every few seconds – I’m estimating once in five. 

the light changes and we careen on homeward. nao, we’re speeding past the fancy new arts thingi they’re building on greenpath.

briefly, my wheeler driver exhibits a potentially lethal interest in the street art outside the park.

we hit serious traffic near the public library.

I shut my eyes as we zip in, out and around several inordinately large vehicles – balanced precariously all the while on what feels like only one of the back wheels. 

we’re near the checkpoint. I manage to squeak out a “wammata,” and he turns to grin obligingly at me.

we stop outside the black gate. my knees wobble a little as I climb out and haul out my laptop.

I don’t quibble when he asks for 150, I just pay. “Stuti” I say, sincerely. He smiles at me, and twitches. 

The Nescafe machine is two flights down. I kid myself that taking the stairs both ways is all the exercise I need every day.

…

Generally being in a maudlin sort of mood, I have been reading poetry, and looking out of windows pensively. I have been pouring over what Atwood I can find on the web. I particularly like this one, and this, this and this and both the variations on the words sleep and love.

“Unfortunately I don’t have leaves.
Instead I have eyes
and teeth and other non-green
things which rule out osmosis.”

This one makes me laugh, because it reminds me of all the times I’ve talked about unzipping a loved one and just slipping in. (You know, warmly cradled inside your rib cage, reading this page from behind your eyes, and listening to your thoughts and the steady thud of your heart.)

Which reminds me that Y has my Borges, and must be hunted down, cornered and forced to surrender it to me. <lets loose the hounds>

]]> http://lapagusity.wordpress.com/2008/08/26/my-blood-will-thicken/feed/ 0 lapagus http://lapagusity.wordpress.com/2008/08/20/broom-people/ http://lapagusity.wordpress.com/2008/08/20/broom-people/#comments Wed, 20 Aug 2008 11:58:34 +0000 lapagus http://lapagusity.wordpress.com/?p=49 ]]>

The Mountain Goats have a truly stupendous back catalogue. <is awestruck> 41 albums! If even half turn out as good as The Sunset Tree, I will be a fulfilled woman.

There were supposed to be Drunken Revels this night, but I have cancelled. heartlessly. There is much in the way of work, and little in the way of inclination, which means it will take me twice as long to get anything accomplished. Consider: I could be well into my second paragraph on Barefoot’s latest by this point.

Also, the thought of tequila on a currently empty, unhappy stomach, is enough to make me want to vomit. (This is nearly inevitable anyway, you understand, its just that I normally make it to at least 8 shots before I embarrass myself, puke and pass out.) Though it turns out that it would be disrespecting a fine, fine beverage. <looks around> anyway the house is a mess, and I have the urge to clean everything up (this being a lesser known side effect of PMS.)

I think I may just spend the rest of the evening being surly, anti-social and feeling sorry for myself.

…or perhaps I should finish S’s secret stash of Baileys.

Now, there’s an idea.

A in a mail to me this morning:

“In recent news it seems that the powers that be are all wishing to be assassinated by the LTTE. The media has caught onto the news that only people who are high on the list of possible targets will be allowed to use the new BMW 7 series cars along with the new defenders and support vehicles… that were imported for SAARC.This has resulted in a stampede of ministers asking high-ranking officers in the police to place their names on the ‘probable targets list’”

<sneers at stampeding ministers>

Offhand, being no car aficianado myself, I can think of only one sweetheart I would consider being hit-listed for. However, since my current market value has plateaued out at a humiliating 9 goats, I don’t see myself having to ever face that agonising decision.

Also in the news: Vijitha Yapa Crescat finally yielded a Gormenghast Trilogy! It is a Vintage edition and as such absolutely gorgeous (croons). This new acquisition is to be celebrated, I will have you know, mostly because the last time I bankrupted myself buying said text, it turned out that ENTIRE chapters were missing and the whole thing had to be returned, plus they didn’t refund my money, they gave me vouchers which I then gave away, compelled by an utter (and shortlived) disgust for all things V.Y.B. Also, No Known Bookshop in the Entire Indian Sub-Continent Stocks This Book.

<confetti party>

And last, (but not least) I am to attend a Jewish Circumcision ceremony this eve. This will be the first time (reliable sources reveal) in over half a century that this particular rite  is being performed in Sri Lanka (inexplicable really, that.) The Rabbi who will preside over the whole thing is a certain Dr. Ari who is being flown down for the occassion all the way from Israel. Whoever it is, it will only be eight days old. The proud ma and da have expressed the hope that the ritual “will be swift.” I am told there will be snacks afterwards.

<imagines self peering anxiously at squalling infant while nibbling kosher pastries.>

!!!!

There ought to be a dinosaur comic about this.

<is tired>

I’ve finally discovered my guts – in my throat for most part. I think that’s about where my stomach settled after our day at wonder la (“…the fun and frolic place that has filled the whole of Bangalore with absolute thrill and unbridled joy.”) I went on a frankly incredible number of rides, most of which involved terrifying free falls (how does your stomach keep going up when the rest of you is going down?) and then followed those up with a few hours in the water park where my brother D and I zipped down an impressive number of very steep slides at a speed approximating that of light. My family swears that they could hear me screaming for miles.

Who would’ve thunk it? 13 year old dutch guys can be a lot of fun. In the last ten days, D and I have spent hours together, locked in a car, traipsing across south India (who knew it was so incredibly massive or even so utterly, breathtakingly beautiful?) with my father and S in tow.

We’ve been to Elagiri, Hampi, Chennai, Pondicherry and Kabini (in that order; also note the plush accomadations) and not only have I not thrown up even once ( has obviously defeated motion sickness! hurrah! etc etc) but I spent most of the trip conscious, looking out the window and listening to music. Really, somebody ought to save me from myself and my old playlists.

We’ve also been eating our way across what felt like the entire continent and I am now back to being a more than respectable weight. Friendly tip: If you’re ever on the road between Chennai and Bangalore, make a point of stopping in Ambur for what is surely the most awesome kadai biryani in the world, also at Sri Krishna Sweets for their mysorpa (consider yourself warned: each piece has enough ghee to float a very small boat.)

In fact, D is the only one who’s exhibited any signs of restraint on this trip. Being a little wee one from distant Holland, he continues to be shocked and appalled by the chaos, muck and complete disregard for traffic regulations that are so familiar to the rest of us. He is prone to cowering in corners and shrieking “I DIE!” – with complete and endearing conviction – every five minutes.

Also (aren’t I full of news?) my father, Mr. S, has fallen in love ( I will not say again; this time, it is very possibly different) with a respectable and virtuous woman and I have the feeling that they will soon be married. sigh. it is somewhat heartening. My old man, he is very near doddering, having turned 50 something this year. fourth chances, we can haz?

S and I are now homeward bound, or would be if we were not stranded at bangalore’s fancy new airport. Hopefully, we will be home by the end of the day, but our flight is already five hours late, and I’m beginning to find that the longer the wait, the more impossibly appealing is the thought of my own bed.

Also, I now own another ipod. don’t ask.