Holmes Is Not Amused.

The HC Returns

when up on this branch

life goes from lorduhtheringss

to lorduhthefliess.

If and when she realises her lipstick's almost gone she will run to the bathroom to reapply. Black plastic container, a shade called Fuchsia Freeze or Bronze Shimmer or Crimson Caress. Step two, grab a tissue, fold then blot then crumple then throw.

If you're a toilet cleaner who can forge signatures, that's an easy fortune. Not to mention DNA.

Had a perfect Pinch Me kind of day. Like in the song. On an evening such as this, it's hard to tell if I exist. Like that. Because it rained the sky went mellow and everything looked like it had a vintage filter added onto high contrast, it's tragic this is the only analogy I can come up with but it will have to do. Made one think, all the strange hazy yellowness. Mostly of words, because after all the vintageness the evening gave way to something best defined by darkling; I was reminded of watching an electric tower from my old terrace, on evenings like this I'd be up there dragging bricks around on the floor making rusty floor plans and maps and things. Then I went home and overdosed on nostalgia. There was crackly old music on, then my shuffle played Guilty and there was more crackling and this overwhelming feeling of being weighed down by things, a heavy head and all the oldness of having lived during times that had things like film cameras and water coolers and cassettes. I miss cassettes, I miss winding and unwinding them. Then I decided to clean a little and came upon this book I looked at a lot as a kid, this photography catalogue for some competition themed "What Is Knowledge?", and as sanctimonious as the title sounds, it has some of my favourite photographs ever, grainy nineties images of people with shiny skin and sun spots on landscapes and slight shakiness towards the edges, I miss the shakiness too.

At dinnertime my mum was watching Dil Toh Pagal Hai on some channel, it reminded me of the time I was freezing my ass off at Kedarnath, '97 or '98, and was asked to wipe some spilt tea on the bed with a newspaper, but I refused to because it had a picture from the movie in it. Not only did I refuse, I jumped up and down saying "AAMAR SHAH RUKH AAMAR SHAH RUKH". It's profusely embarrassing now that I've rewatched bits of the movie but not so much, all things go.

Yeah, so all sorts of funny things are happening all around, but a good kind of funny, a steady comforting kind of funny. Like in the song, I could leave but I'll just stay. Aami ekta joyant. I'll topple over and chuckle myself silly any second.

=D

New post today! I will write about this thing, not ideas about the thing but the thing itself, everyone knows the deal. I will paint my nails purple and pretend I'm playing an instrument so that I can see my fingers curled. As the night progresses I will worry about not getting enough sleep and continue reading the internet as opposed to the book lying on my bed, I'm in one of my poetry moods. I will create a resume by two thirty if it kills me and send it off. I will wander through (through? It's five by six by my reckoning) the kitchen and look for biscuits. I will tie up the curtains and resist the temptation to paint my bedside lamp sunflower yellow. Now that I have nothing but the summer to look forward to, not ideas about the summer but the summer itself, I will write a new post everyday. Mostly because it'll turn out that there's very little I can not write about through a summer in the city, italicise in. In that respect I suppose a summer is like a prison term, or an Art of Living course maybe. If all else fails there are the gulmohars, but I just remembered, summer in the city means cleavage cleavage cleavage. First song this morning.

I love my friends absolutely and unequivocally in spite of how much I annoy them or vice versa and it is because of them that many life lessons have come my way, always keeping an impending haircut top secret priority for instance, but of all these friends who have come my way in the form of life lessons and elicited a wow-how-weird as most life lessons are sooner or later bound to do, Sujaan Bhombol Myshkin Mukherjee is by far the weirdest. Just a thought. I shall write something worthwhile once I find something worthwhile to write about but right now it is imperative that the world know this, the fellow's an A-class nutjob.

superfast ty[er

:i'll try and get in my harddick.

*disk.
: from kankurgachhi more. walk towards ultadanda.
:if you findplease.thank toy.you/*i will go for rovket singh one of these days.
: gagag sorry ahaha
: sound like fisces. i spelled it wrong shit FECES.
:see you tomottow bye bye damnit rr
: if life were that beautifuk l
: verrry nice :) now my mother has made doda *dosa damnit
: HEPL!
: where theyre writing up what they're doping minor reports etc shit *doing (not a word about that typo)
: i ll open tit *it

(yeah, I'm pretty bad at this myself but so what)

Flautists and harpists and potato-chip slicers do not go together. Neither do I picture you in the sun and Once I had a love and it was a gas. Or bhyaan bhyaan and hum kaale hain toh kya hua dilwale hain. Most things do not go together if you spare them a thought, consider tea and biscuits.

The marvellous, beautiful thing that is my tongue, I rediscover it every mango season. Post every monsoon I forget what distinguishes one kind of mango from another. All that's left behind are vague ideas and words, I present to you the human brain. It's only when the mangoes come back that I know what I mean by the firm yellowness that is the Baiganpalli, or the bristly textury feel of the Gulabkhus, or the way you can taste the smell of the Himsagar rather than the other way round. I find out why a Dussehri is earthy and a Langra is a mango with the temperament of mustard, and I still don't know what the deal with a Chausa is, I never do, but there is always that little victory where I take a bite from a slice and have a this-is-what-this-is moment. Like a connoisseury epicureanish thingie, I can't explain. I'm beyond beyond happy today because I've eaten nothing else for dinner.