On the state and art of being…

~ First off have pulled my hamstrings and have been walking around like someone who lost virginity last night. E had called about Squash and cancelling it again would make her think that I am avoiding her. I have to make it up to her for this.

~ During the pub session, had a bet with K that the woman opposite was a divorcee and , of course became richer.

~  When L pestered about a new year resolution, C calmly and perhaps truly replied ‘to shag a left handed blonde’ leading to a thoughtful pause. As much as I admired it, I had to intervene quoting Huxley , Never mind , his idea of a tragedy is a theory destroyed by a fact. We drank to such conversations.

~ Then of course the week had an interesting start. Woke up early. Half four. Yeah that early to the radio alarm tuned to classic fm beaming symphony after symphony. In my semi-conscious laziness I tossed about the bed trying to identify them correctly . Like Beethoven 9th, Tchaikovsky etc. and when I was really  awake I wasn’t even sure if it had  actually happened or had I dreamt about it?
Anyway I consoled myself of the occurence of  such arcane things  in the great wild  universe and went on to check the mail only to find out that I had received the complete Beethoven series CD for gift. By? Guess whom? Anonymous!! And apparently No one I know has a clue about it.
Now I feel like a Josef K asking for directions . But I suppose in a nice way.

~I think perhaps I had discounted his frustration when M had advised me long time back not to give out your profession to anyone at the first meeting. I had thought , suppose on that particular evening , he had too much to drink. But now it all makes perfect sense.
Picture this . You are at a cocktail party or in a transit lounge or flying. And you are asked what you do. You being your humble honest self duly reply with what you do. And bravo, you find yourself at the opposite end of maudlin cosmos of never ending curiosity. Such that, you are even ready to pay for a moment’s silence. Finally after wiping the guts that have been spilled all over you, you are left with nothing but burning smell of regret and an ancient advice from M to reply smilingly  and even more humbly to such queries ie a  fruit vendor.
Oh me? I sell bananas at the market. A long silence follows.

~ Watched this and it was beautiful. Dispassionate and deeply moving at the same time. Been a while anything has evoked in me such a  combination of emotions. Reminded me of watching schindlers list with sis long back and more particularly the discourse after that.

So , I ended  waking her up, sleeping in the other corner of the world from what possibly could only be an eventful dream  for which she asked me to make love to myself , and of course not in as many words. She is, you know , far more frugal.

~ Heck! Have to deliver a lecture tomorrow to the uni students and I’m not  even prepared  in the figment of my most fertile imagination. God, save em all.