Upon heavy introspection, I realized I’d pick the turbulence of the ocean over the solitude of the mountains, any day. How about we take a quick dip in one of my daydreams, eh?

Concept : I live in cottage on a hill by the ocean, the landscape is a gradient of green and blue, with the occasional sun-streaked red. I sustain myself by working on my neighbors vineyard. On cultivation, we sing and dance around a bonfire, wine sloshing around in our cups, to music made especially for the occasion. The cottage itself is menial, save this one room, that is an accumulation of all my wealth. Apart from that, it’s characterised by concrete walls and wooden floors. It has five rooms, two washrooms and a kitchen. Oscillating back to that one room, it’s very sparsely decorated, its walls are the colour of the sunset, they’re lined with shelves. Sitting upon the shelves, are books. A record accompanies each manuscript. One of the walls is almost all window, it faces the sea. Square in the center of the room is a record player, a gramophone, sitting on a cabinet of mediocre height. I waltz to Sinatra when the weather is right. In the corner, lies one of those sink-in armchairs, accompanied by the standard footstool and lamp. The lamp gives off my favourite kind of mellow light. On stormy days, I sit in the chair and watch as the ocean tears itself apart. I sit with a cat in my lap, soaking up the chaos. My dog lies curled up by my feet, her beating heart gives a rhythm to the waves. They appear to be performing some sort of dance. I feel that, perhaps, I should join them?



Sometimes, I steal liquor from my parents cabinet.
vodka. whiskey. rum. 
it doesn't matter, really. 
Not as long as the alcohol does what it does
i.e. give me a break from myself.
the intoxication is an excuse.
let go. unwind. loosen up. 
I blare music through the speakers.
Turn the volume up,
jazz. rock. blues. 
I mouth the words, at first. 
But as the djinns gently lead me to madness,
I scream them out. 
joy. euphoria. happiness. 
The spirits take control of my legs, 
drawing me into a wild tango with the wind.
whirl. twirl. spin. 
I wonder why.
Why i need to be so out of my senses to make sense of it all?
Sometimes, I steal liquor from my parents cabinet.
thrill. adrenaline. titillation.
well, sometimes I embrace my nonchalance.
Forcing the gears of my mind to a standstill.
Taking shots of happiness, undiluted. 
Ignoring the impossibility of it all. 
invincible. invulnerable. indestructible. indestructible.

bacon fries

we had lunch in this quaint little cafe with lime and sky-blue walls plastered with pop-culture posters. Adi commented on how the atmosphere would have made for a great way to start a film. We started making up little back stories for the people around us, about how the couple sitting behind us were in their final stages, you could see that they were bored of each other but neither really had the courage to break it off, neither of them wanted to deal with the consequences, the relationship had given them the illusion of companionship. They were, as we all are, afraid of the abyss of isolation. Perpendicular to them, sat two friends, facing each other. Their eyes slanted down onto their phones. They were, we decided, two old friends who had just met after a long time. Except, neither of them had anything in common. They had deviated from the path the two of them had trodden together in high-school. One was dressed in all black and probably liked Nirvana, the other didn’t listen to music. They were waiting for the bill to arrive so they could put the awkwardness behind them and carry on with their lives, forcing the other into the misty clutches of the head reserved for friends-turned-acquaintances. The group of guys sitting in a crowd around the chess board (there was a chess board and a mandolin!) went to the same coaching institute and dreamt of fame. They didn’t really know how to play chess. The waitress was this really pretty lady with this really rad nose ring and round spectacles, her smile was genuine (or is that how they get us to buy more? Ah, the woes of capitalism). It resonated with me, in a way. I wanted her to be the protagonist but Adi settled on the man sitting right in front of us. He was forlorn, twiddling his thumbs. He was in his mid-thirties and had just begun to realize that he wouldn’t ever be able to escape the mediocrity. That he was subjected to the same, Kafkaesque routine for the rest of his life. He was on the verge of giving in to it too, right at the brim.
We had the best bacon fries ever in that cafe

oh tempora! o mores!

My thoughts have a way of reverberating through my skull, 
they flit around embracing each idea like it's their last.
It's much like a one night stand, I suppose?
Passionate but limited,
like the finitude in infinity.
My thoughts have a way of resonating with music
...amplified through a boombox. 
They dance to its rhythm,  
melding in a melancholic waltz
(much like the ocean does the sky.)
Sometimes, the outside is too hushed. 
I retreat into my head.
In hopes of chaos, 
In hopes of conflict,
In hopes of calm. 
Chaotic calm. 
All that embraces me is silence. 
Such disquieting silence.