Burning Bridges Smell Sweet

I should have admitted this years ago, but have only now grown up enough to say:
1. Dude, the reason I fell asleep when we were watching The Godfather was because I was bored. Out of my mind. At the gore, the faux 'cleverness', the 'hard' 'strategy'. But most of all, at your constant breathless faux anticipation.

2. Similarly, Guy Ritchie does nothing for me.

3. David Beckham is not hot.

4. I hate it when you say 'I know Tara' with such confidence - Maybe Tara is perverse, but you certainly didn't know about points 1, 2 and 3, above. Evidence: your reaction when I told you.

5. *sip sip on my Cosmopolitan.
How come you turned into such a corporate rat? When did you forget enthusiasm (and replace it with very shrill screeches of Yeeeah Man!!! when your football team wins)? When did you start to think that you 'need' 25 pairs of shoes 'just in case' (... there is a serial shoetheif around??)? Why do you still not know or care or ask what the fuck I'm doing for my PhD (I know: because my 'real life' will only start post-thesis when I start earning and therefore this is not worth your time.) And last - h.o.w. do you and me have a normal conversation after this when you want to 'just chill man, I've had a hard day at work', while for me 'I am still whirring - as we speak - and cannot for the life of me, be sated by any of the things that excited you tonight.

They say the best mirror is an old friend, but hell, I hope like hell when I look there I see nothing of myself.

Buddhaesqueness be damned...

...I.want.M.now.

Loser

4am. Alarm goes off.
Too anxious about PhD work to sleep.
Too anxious about PhD work to work.
Solution?
Lie under the blanket in a half-daze until 6.
Consider the amount of time being wasted and spiral into panic.
Freeze underneath blanket until 6:30.

Yuck.

Post 26/11

When the dust settles, when the heat goes off and the lights come on, we're going to finally see who's to blame. All the blood on our hands will give us away.
In the land of karma, we're blaming everybody else and passing the buck.
Sad.

Burning the midnight oil and assorted notes.

11:30 pm on a Sunday night. Working on PhD.
Relief from the tedium comes from:
Road noises (rickshaws - someone is going home on a peaceful eveing),
Passing traffic, (especially trucks - someone else is working, and harder than me)
and an orchestra of crickets in the garden (the magic garden, is alive and awake with song always).
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M.
Miss him.
More than anything, anywhere.
Studying be damned (no!). I hope he comes online. I could stay up all night talking to him even if I was dropping with exhaustion. And right now he is just home from taking pictures up the river. God, I want.
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Energy: Where is mine gone??
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Shopping at your favourite store: Is overrated, especially if you're doing it with a grumpy mother. (Who this time, did not tell me to turn around and walk away - but instead, almost did it herself. I think we shall avoid shopping together as a mutually enjoyable potential activity and practice macing each other in the garden instead. Still, love her.)