I am in a very odd mood today.
I don't know what it is. His grandmother has left us, mine is suddenly aware of her own mortality. So am I. I shall miss her. So much. I cried a bit today.
I remembered my first real crush. Apollo looks like the golden ass now. Both he and his wife (then girlfriend) look as old as frogs. I sneakily checked their pictures. I had such a preference for slightly older chaps. Especially smart ones. And then kaput! Or caput! A genius, non smoker, non alcoholic, nine months older type! The irony.
Ah well. The latter had a crush on a girl who can't spell chicken, for obvious reasons. Very amusing. I am letting out this startling secret. All humans are human. And though Terence said that nothing human disgusted him or words to that effect, and if it wasn't Terence, I don't care, I wasn't digusted either.
Because now I will list some of my Bad Secrets.
#1. I once farted while I was coughing in Class 7. In class. It smelt too. The girl who sat next to me made an elaborate display of shrinking-like-violet, clean-handkerchief-to-nose-lifting, and other assorted I-so-wanna-have-you-regret-this activities. Twelve-Thirteen is a cruel age.
#2. I pronaamed my father once and he was confused and he pronaamed me. Yes, he touched my feet and collected the dust. The only explanation is; I am a Goddess and my progenitor realizes that the 33 crore Hindu Gods (gawds?) have smiled on him. But he is not religious and he throws hard-bound books at me when angry. So what is it? I am confused.
#3. I listened to Hey Jude to wallow in the glow and misery of my first crush. He was a Greek sculpture, nay, God even. Now Gawd. He looks like an elderly corporate. Which he is. Huh. His wife looks like she could be my mum. I feel terribly smug and conceited.
#4. My best friend's (N.R.) cousin brother had a crush on me. I gave him a lighter before I discovered that he did. And for once, I had the grace to blush.
#5. I love a certain someone very very very much. He had a thing for silly women. Before me, he says. So he says. I, on the other hand, am confused. Yet again. Could it be that I have misjudged myself?Old habits die hard, and all that. Maybe I am dumb. Maybe I too spell it CHICKAAAAN!Maybe I spell Chiffon SHEEEFAAAN!!!! Or maybe not. :(
BUT I am not the face(rather,body!) that launches a million sperms. So...I shall launch a million champagne bubbles, a fleet of yachts, a hundred paperbacks, and whatnot. I shall launch a clothing line, custom made perfume, and everything else.
What the fuck am I writing? It's been a loooong day.
Stop using metaphors, they are lies. Use similes, they are true. Life is embarrassing and bewildering. It comes back at various junctures, like nausea, in anti-peristaltic movements. Sudden, sudden, hitting like a gush of realization, like the size of my bum, like the warmth of a mum, like the efficacy of rum, etc. But damn, love and lust and realization all in a day?
I hate you R.V. I do.
But I hate death more. The only thing to do is to follow my father's example and throw hardbound books at it. With great vehemence and anger. And then sing
Sweetie Pie, Sweetie Pie
Cholo naa paachhaa dolaai.
(trans. Let's shake ass, man!)