in the moment
between this minute
and the next
with the regularity
of the moon
my mind wanders
to you.


karna's feet

there's a small comment that is made immediately after yudhishtra loses his game of dice with duryodhana. draupadi is getting molested in front of the pandavas while they stand in front of her watching. yudhishtra, in his anger and frustration can't even look up. his anger is so terrific, he feels like he can tear apart every kaurava in the room with his bare hands. in such a fit of emotion, unable to meet anyone's eyes, his own eyes find karna's feet. the shape of karna's feet, strikingly similar to kunti's, startles him and calms him at the same time, and he manages to keep himself together.

there's something about this story that i find that i identify with in the strangest of ways. i like noticing people's feet. that's actually an understatement. noticing the shape of people's toes comes as naturally to me as listening to the sound of their voice, or seeing if they have two eyes and one nose. sometimes, i get so uncomfortable around people who wear socks or shoes that i can't even talk to them without mentally trying to figure out what their feet must look like.

most times, i even go a step further - i judge people on the shape of their toes. i decide whether i like you, you're a snob, you're sweet, you're harmless, you're patient, you're annoying, you make me comfortable, you think too highly of yourself, i could go on and on - based on how your toes make me feel. i've even had crushes on people for their feet. (i could tell you about someone i sat next to for a whole cricket match, and only looked at his feet. his feet, i can tell you with some certainty, are the nicest feet i have ever seen.)

people who know this about me often think it's weird or strange, a fetish, even (with good reason, they think). today, i found out that a cousin of mine does the exact same thing (and now i feel normal.)


who'da thunk

i seem to have a new found love for (of all things bleh in the universe) milk chocolate! there's an overwhelming amount of absolutely terrific dark chocolate at home now (godiva, mostly, so think about it carefully), and i'm only eating hershey's milk chocolate. three weeks ago, even i would have judged me. let's just hope this phase passes quickly. sigh.


oh well

"write me a story for my birthday. something with a happy ending."

"happy endings are overrated. can it have lots of sex instead?"



list of things that annoy me about hospitals:

ominous whispering
needles that stay stuck in your hand
nurses who insist on speaking malayalam with you
rude doctors
visiting people
people who come to visit
people who don't come to visit
people being more tensed than you
people being less tensed than you
doctors who insist on not speaking malayalam with the nurses
air conditioning
other things that get pushed into your body
hospital clothes
ultrasound tests
"you can pass urine after test is over"
unanswered phone calls
not knowing what is getting pumped into your body
not knowing what they're taking out of your body
not knowing what is wrong with your body
not knowing what they think is wrong with your body
not knowing the person in pain next to you
not knowing whether they will be better
not knowing, period.

but the smell of hospitals, i like that smell.


brian azzarello

that man. fucks. with my brain.
that. is all.

ps. i know this isn't a real post. i'm very, very unwell. bear with me.


long distance

i sometimes feel like i'm good friends with people i've never even emailed, but love to read. do you?


The beast had come to see me in the dead of the night. It dug its nails into my heels and hauled itself over me. Before I knew what I was doing, I screamed and screamed into the dark. Through my mouth it entered and took a hold of me. In my shock I gave in, in my shame I surrendered, before I knew what had happened, that beast was me and I was the beast.

I looked into the mirror in the morning. I saw, I saw that I could not see. What would the mirror know, but for what it was shown? What would the mirror show, but for the facets that it knows? There I was before it, plain as plain could be. My hair was flat, my lips were dry, my eyebrows completely out of shape. If you saw my eyes you’d know, if you looked within you’d see, I was the beast within, I was within the beast.

I wrapped the cold around me, darkness came in clouds. In the mist I walked the night, in the fog I stalked. When I saw people, I knew what I was, for sure. For all I could see was flesh and blood, all I could hear was the sound of hearts, all I could smell was the stink of fear, and all I could feel was their anger. Fallen people everywhere, sex, drugs, alcohol, on the roads I walked all night, feeding on greed and lust.

If they searched their nightmares, they’d find my beloved beast. If you searched my beast, you’d only find me.


I have been having some crazy nightmares of late, and last night was particularly potent. I woke up dazed, trying to explain to myself what was happening, and what exactly I was going through. In my half-asleep state, cold and scared, my laptop was lying next to me, so I decided to write it down. I can still see her face, the woman in my nightmare now, and I can still feel that fear, nothing but that fear.
I can't judge this post yet - I don't know if it's any good, but I'm going to post it nevertheless, because right now I need to get it out of my system. The last time I wrote something after a nightmare, I wrote this.
And I still don't know what to make of it.