Signs of Damage

Hmm.. umm.. uhh..
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Honestly, when i resume writing after an extended hiatus about the only thing that i am in a position to state with a reasonable degree of certainty is "Hmm.. umm.. uhh.." and other assorted, unintelligable sounds. Of course one can never let the reader know that now.. Uh uh.. not happening. The reader must be convinced that the absence was in fact a fruitful one. A much needed one. To allow thoughts to ferment inside one's head.

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The unfortunate bit is that the whole time i've been away my head was in fact teeming with lovely thoughts: mostly happy, sometimes sad and fairly confused (no more than is usual)
Lyrical, insightful and even in grief, always somewhat funny..

And observations.. of this grand city which i now call home. So many brilliant and beautiful little things. Charming occurences that merit lengthy and detailed documentation.

But this blasted screen stares at me cruelly and i just melt into an inarticulate puddle of piss..

We are most often our harshest critics.. Who knew impressing onesself could be so difficult?
I want to send the critic on a vacation.. to some far away forgotten island where she can sit and sip a cocktail of her choice. I may even go visit her once in a while. The absence of exacting standards could potentially get quite lonely me thinks..

Hmm.. umm.. uhh..
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I have been terribly hysterical off late. Shit happens, what can one say. And maybe thats why i'm back.. This blog was always my preferred medium for looking at myself and laughing and my assorted and many hued sillinesses.

Also a preferred medium for use of words like 'sillinesses'.
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Hmm.. after having written several paragraphs i am now convinced that i have in fact not completely forgotten how to write. I am genuinely scared that if i stop writing, a part of my brain will just atrophy.. drop off and die. And that if i stop singing, before long all I'll be able to do is croak. Its frightening, the kind of thing that can keep you up and hate yourself a little every day.

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I think one of the best things about living in mumbai is being able to tell people that you live here. Mumbai is an excuse in itself..
.. i'm out partying all the time, after all this is Mumbai..
.. that poor woman has lost her mind, Mumbai does that to you..
.. can't bring myself to save anything, Mumbai, so expensive..
.. i have no time to post these days, its sad. Between getting to work, being at work and getting back from work i barely get any time to breathe.. heck, thats Mumbai for you..

Which is fortunate for the city itself. Imagine being forgiven for all your vices and idiosyncracies simply because you happen to be who you are..

..its a shit hole. but its Mumbai

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Not a fan of abrupt endings myself. But NS just walked in. He is playing distracting music. Mostly soppy love songs with 'Hotel California' juxtaposed uncomfortably in between. Think I'll wrap up. Get a little work done, flirt with him for a few minutes and head out. Into the adventure that this day is in the process of becoming..

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About the title: long story. Tragic, but like most things also slightly funny. Ok probably only funny if you really look close, observe the mayhem and then pan out and move further and further away.. Slowly.. Slowly.

Its hard to explain. Maybe some other time..