To Vomit the Undigestible

Thursday, April 19, 2007

All Night All Day

*I'm sitting on a red and blue striped sofa in BOT's PG place. The most uncomfortable one I've ever sat on. My habit of folding one leg back into myself is betraying me. No more comfort. There's a dull pain on the outside of my right thigh just where the knee starts and yes, I blame this excuse for a padded chair. This one nudges and pushes. The arm rests were put here to abuse soft flesh, burying deep into it. A sore spot on my leg accompanied by a steady and continous grudge against the old paraphenalia in this confined space.

It'll be my last day here, no more bathroom murders of roaches and mosquitoes with dangerously pilfered blood. No more sleeping on a bed, together with my BOT, thats meant to hold a single human form. I can almost bring myself to fill this page and 20 after it, with my complaints but I don't see much in making a nuisance of myself and wasting paper and this fine ink that are far more precious than the empty spaces in my head that have been filled up by inhibitions and nasty thoughts.....
...okay, SO THIS PLACE IS SO SEEDY!! : O Ha, just had to get it out even if the complaint is devoid of any real detail and makes me seem like an uptight townie.

*Maybe its the heat. Even the prettiest things and those that are the most aesthetically pleasing to my emotions seem polluted in this weather. We need the rains. I'd rather die in a flood after a torrential downpour of cold and wet than feel the softness that covers my body fry in the Devil's own saucepan. I'm breathing fire... the end is near and May isn't even here yet.

*Two favourite lines from songs currently on my playlist...

"Hot sticky wetness wiring wet visions of virility between our bodys sensations..... Ouch"
This one is definately a tongue twister if you say it fast enough.


"Dust my body with the talcum powder of illegal alien ancestory. I belong to no one, citizen of nowhere, that's who i'll be"
If this line plays in your head right, you'll swear God was a woman and She sang this song. Yes, the vocalist deserves a capital 'S.' If not any other or the big giant head, She's definately the Goddess of Sex. Only because of the way these words roll out of her mouth that is. It's like sexual tension oozing out of her. Perfection.

*It's 2:38 in the afternoon. Pulled an all nighter at Rayan's place. I was too sleepy to be hungry earlier and now I'm too hungry to be sleepy. No lunch for another hour. Not until my BOT wakes up from deep slumber.

*I held my breath for a minute and three seconds last night. I know I can go upto a minute and thirty when submerged under water but smoking one too many has shortened my survival time by 1/3rd.
Rayan's friend Rachit bought himself a Digididoo, (if that's how you spell it?) which is now at Ray's place and the four of us spent 3 hours trying to sustain a sound from it. It was impossible for me to blow the pipe for more than 6 seconds in the first hour and by the end of the third, I held a continous sound for 37 seconds! 37 seconds of lung power. I'm quite proud of that. :) Rachit's had it for months and he could hold it for 25 at the most. If i can hold my breath for a minute, I might even be able to blow out air for an entire minute and if i do i will be the Digididoo Goddess.
*And you've just watched me simmer in a hot bath of proud gloatyness for an entire page*

Last night was fun. We lit skin on fire, fingers, legs, hands and then cigarettes. Played with the organ and then fiddled like amateurs with nanchuks. At dawn we sat on the swings in the playground and climbed up the slide instead of down it. We defied the word Slide. After which, we perched ourselves on bars 12 feet up and had a morning cigarette to celebrate the events past, in playful conversation.

Clayton made me a dead strong cup of coffee at 7am which brought me here after a bike ride that almost made love to the road. I found out today that Honda's can do that, even when there's a war going on under the tires.
'Whisked away by the wind with smooth sailing at sunrise.'
See, I wouldn't be able to make a pretty sentence like that if it wern't a Honda. Due credit to that fine company *nod*

Time for a 'cancer break' as BOT says. I might not return as my forefinger is red and sore, which is to say, that I will not return as my lungs need to be massaged by the soft embers of nicotine love...


  • The end of an era. When are you buying a chalet in the Nilgiri hills?

    By Blogger JP, at 1:44 PM, April 19, 2007  

  • leaving a comment :)

    you bloody townie... stop complaining about the couch and get comfy on it.

    be glad u r not on the floor.... with the roaches :)

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 1:49 PM, April 19, 2007  

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