14 Sep 2004

candid indeed

Posted by krits in General | 4:08am


The morning changes everything. And with it are gone words once whispered, secrets once shared, tears once shed. Just like that.
A journey of a thousands miles is sometimes covered in a single night. And all that was before the night ended seems a part of another world, another time.
Then all you’re left with is a photograph. Taken with professional equipment, mind you.
It makes a good picture – you looking right into the eyes of another, and yet you’re not really there. Or maybe you’re there more than the picture can ever capture.
Never thought I could look like that smiling, or screwing up my face or simply staring into space. It’s nice to know that there are always parts of you that keep emerging in the fleeting blink of an eyelid.
Always nice to know that there are parts of you that you discover only when seen from the eyes of another. Through a camera lens, for example.
It’s the kind of feeling that makes you want to giggle like the schoolgirl you once were. Or the one that you were before the world spilled the beans on you.
That’s a lot of thoughts up there. Guess you can’t help cramming everything into minimal space when you’re minds a whirlwind of random thoughts, at best.
It’s a happy world right now. Tentative, yet happy.
Maybe this would make more sense the next time around.






Current Mood: Cheerful
Current Music: Grieve

28 Jul 2004

Profile

Posted by krits in Writing | 7:38pm


The guy who was born with a mobile phone (with inbuilt camera + 10,000 name phone book memory + colour screen that changes with your mood..) in his mouth. Whose mommy took him around the neighbourhood, not in a pram, but in the latest 4 wheeler to hit the market at that point. And, like they say, childhood traumas have a habit of surfacing in your adult life every now and then. (More now than then, actually)
His day-span extends not from sunrise-sunset-sunrise, but from sleep-hangover-sleep. And between that, his memory supports no other memory of any other activity.
His vocabulary is all but 250 words wide, and this pinnacle was reached sometime in class 8. Then it was doomed to freeze at that figure for all eternity.
You can expect a call from him when there’s a party in town where all the ‘babes’ are expected to be. Of course, it is futile to tell him that babes stopped interesting you after that particularly embarrassing lesbian-crush incident in high school.
If your life is suddenly threatened one day when you discover the all-depressing maxim ‘change is the only constant’, this is the guy to call. With him around, it’s like time has stood still since the time you were a chubby schoolgirl who actually giggled at his so-called wisecracks.
He’ll all-too-willingly handhold you through stories of people you have left behind, jokes you left behind, “books” you left behind, and of course, haircuts (you thought) you left behind.
While you’re battling with the major decisions of life - like where you want to spend the next 5 years, and what you will do everyday to support Project Tiger, this guy provides a welcome relief when he shares his angst over not finding his favourite aftershave (when he went shopping for the 5th time that day) or the fact that he couldn’t attend the party because his newest favourite-est car wasn’t delivered on time from the showroom.
To put it graphically, he’s like Joey – minus the ‘ooh’ factor.
However, it is wise (and horribly materialistic) to keep him in your good books…he’s not a thrifty one with birthday presents ;-)
And therein ends the tale. For some particularly charming cajoling, I might even add the all-important tale-end.






Current Mood: Feeling Better
Current Music: Yellow

27 Jul 2004

Just...

Posted by krits in General | 3:13pm


It’s amazing how some people seem to have all the clarity in the world. To put down, in black and white words that were once dimensions of unwieldy emotions splitting at the seams.
When I sit down to write, my thoughts just go into a never-ending spiral – kind of like watching a mirror reflected in a mirror, in a mirror, in a mirror…
Most times, it is about surrounding a miniscule grain of truth with noncommittal words that add no value to the grain. Pretty words that are complete in themselves, and yet the sum of the parts never really amounts to much.
How simply some write about love and hurt and heartbreak and wrenching pain and joy and wonder… when none of these so-called emotions have ever gathered the courage to stare at you shame-facedly – in all their nudity.
And soon it becomes important as to who’s reading it. And sooner than that, the words take on a life of their own; they self-consciously seek the diplomatic path – fearing saying too much, or much worse – too little.
Your thoughts, far from being your own, are now part of the collective conscious… and have committed themselves to conformity.
Perhaps, words, like emotions fade away with time –lose their fervour and die like martyrs. That probably explains why my eight standard diary far from recounting the emotional upheaval of a 14 yr old now sounds like the ultimate Freudian delight.
Guess I’m doing the whole noncommittal words thing right now…I suppose this calls for identifying the grains of truth after all.





Current Mood: Confused
Current Music: To the moon n back

20 Jul 2004

one-eyed aliens

Posted by krits in General | 4:57am


Ok ok… here goes profile # 1. (And my book shall be called ‘7 habits of highly unadventurous people who meet only 7 kinds of individuals in their entire lifetime’). So much for creative genius!

So type 1:

This is the guy who has an almost inhuman ability of ‘breaking onto the other side’. The quintessential ‘anti’ everything. The one who says ‘why not’ and the ‘why not’ becomes magically tattooed on his face for all to see.
The guy who tried everything he wasn’t supposed to at school; and actually continued doing those things through most of his adult life.
(Now when I say ‘guy’ I actually mean both sexes. It’s always becomes easier when you talk about all the evil in the world with a ‘guy’ perspective…makes it come alive, actually)
Anyways, you can’t really spot him from a mile away. Looks perfectly sane, normal, even. Then he starts talking. Talks about the ‘other worlds’ he’s visited, and believe me, it doesn’t end at the nine planets. You almost write him off, when you realise that this dude, to his own surprise, has an abnormally high IQ. It’s like too much cotton stuffing in the delicate living room cushion.
He lives his life from the threshold of the ‘point of no return’; you never know when he’ll actually fall off the wagon. I guess it would be much too judgmental to say that he could actually do some super-good in the world with his kind of thinking-power, but it always comes to naught. Use his intellect, he will – but it almost always is for stirring up the mundane-ness of life.
At the end of the day, though, you could have some really crazy conversations with him – you could actually talk to him about the mating habits of one-eyed aliens with a straight face and he won’t blink an eyelid. Or the fact that you had the trip of a lifetime last night when you bummed green hair dye from your geeky NRI cousin, and actually used it in unimaginable places ;-) haha..ok maybe that would be too much for even him to take! Anyway…you get he drift.
All in all, a softie at heart, and in the accompanying head...and quite approachable if he ever decides to make the trip back from never-land.



Current Mood: Happy Indeed!
Current Music: fast love

19 Jul 2004

one-eyed aliens

Posted by krits in General | 7:30pm


Ok ok… here goes profile # 1. (And my book shall be called ‘7 habits of highly unadventurous people who meet only 7 kinds of individuals in their entire lifetime’). So much for creative genius!

So type 1:

This is the guy who has an almost inhuman ability of ‘breaking onto the other side’. The quintessential ‘anti’ everything. The one who says ‘why not’ and the ‘why not’ becomes magically tattooed on his face for all to see.
The guy who tried everything he wasn’t supposed to at school; and actually continued doing those things through most of his adult life.
(Now when I say ‘guy’ I actually mean both sexes. It’s always becomes easier when you talk about all the evil in the world with a ‘guy’ perspective…makes it come alive, actually)
Anyways, you can’t really spot him from a mile away. Looks perfectly sane, normal, even. Then he starts talking. Talks about the ‘other worlds’ he’s visited, and believe me, it doesn’t end at the nine planets. You almost write him off, when you realise that this dude, to his own surprise, has an abnormally high IQ. It’s like too much cotton stuffing in the delicate living room cushion.
He lives his life from the threshold of the ‘point of no return’; you never know when he’ll actually fall off the wagon. I guess it would be much too judgmental to say that he could actually do some super-good in the world with his kind of thinking-power, but it always comes to naught. Use his intellect, he will – but it almost always is for stirring up the mundane-ness of life.
At the end of the day, though, you could have some really crazy conversations with him – you could actually talk to him about the mating habits of one-eyed aliens with a straight face and he won’t blink an eyelid. Or the fact that you had the trip of a lifetime last night when you bummed green hair dye from your geeky NRI cousin, and actually used it in unimaginable places ;-) haha..ok maybe that would be too much for even him to take! Anyway…you get he drift.
All in all, a softie at heart, and in the accompanying head...and quite approachable if he ever decides to make the trip back from never-land.



Current Mood: Happy Indeed!
Current Music: fast love

16 Jul 2004

Dementors

Posted by krits in General | 11:22am


Dementors – life-sucking shapeless creatures of doom. So you may never feel cheerful again.
I’ve had the creepy misfortune of meeting some real-life dementors in the course of my relatively brief lifetime. You can feel them from a mile away - the creepy cold, weighed-down chill that runs through your being when they enter the room.
Fortunately I have also come to the divine conclusion that in your lifetime, you meet a grand total of 7 people prototypes.
So much so that whenever I meet someone new, the first few seconds of the all-too important ‘first impression’ time is spent mentally classifying them into one of the 7 groups. This guy? He would be a number 4 kind of a thing.

All this definitely takes the cheer out of living the moment and experiencing the sanguinity that each sunrise brings, BUT it has its advantages. I’m pretty sure this is a deep psychological ‘mental shortcuts’ phenomenon that is designed to make the perils of the earthy world easier to deal with.
For one, it keeps the creepy dementor-types away. Where you unwittingly get drawn into an impassioned soul searching with this person, and before you know it, you’re swimming the depths of no-man’s land. A cloud descends – sans the proverbial silver lining.
You’ve got to give it to these types – they have the innate ability to suck the joy out of every situation. God forbid if the situation was depressing to start with. Imagine living through life wearing glasses that were actually designed for your obese next-door neighbour who has never taken a vacation in the 50 years of her existence.
But you’ve got to admit, happenstance is a happy thing indeed…and even better when you happen to meet all the people at all the right times. I guess most of existence is spent trying to avoid the wrong kind of people rather than really looking for the right ones.



Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: until the end

22 Jun 2004

Pounds of flesh?

Posted by krits in Love | 6:06pm


What's entirely ridiculous is that the rich and famous of the world think nothing of spending an insane 30 mn pounds (where's the darn pound sign on this keyboard anyway?) on a wedding! Somehow that figure will be printed in my mind for eternity – not as a benchmark for my own fairy tale wedding that I'll have someday – but as a reminder of how people lose perspective when middle-aged.

Ok, marriage is a big deal – but I would be consumed by guilt if I knew my daddy spent that much on my big day! No matter if he was Mr.Rich (of Richie Rich fame, or in this case, mr.mittal fame).

I would rather spend those bucks on shopping, or travelling the world a 100 times over, or (this sounds miss-universe-y) send a few poor kids to school.

Besides, I wouldn't want to put a price on a relationship. 'Mine's precious – I spent 30 mn on him, how 'bout you?' and so on. Everytime I looked at the guy, I would be thinking 'I pad a fortune for him, how dare he refuse to paint my toenails?!'

Of course, part of me wishes I could get married in a castle – royal entourage and all, but part of me wants to visit Saturn too.

I wouldn't want a price on my head. I don't want to be known as 'the girl who had the biggest wedding in the world'. I'm just a number then, an entity expressed in currency.

It just seems grossly inadequate, don't you think?

 Anyway, and god forbid I discover the guy I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life with is gay, or deranged, or a serial killer, or impotent, or wears polka dotted underwear? I would probably live with him anyway because the alimony certainly wouldn't be a motivating factor.

I know to the daddy, she's his little girl – and he wants to see her over the moon on her shaadi – but did he ever think he would be making her miserable for life?

And not to forget the impossible standards daddy will be setting for millions of other daddies worldwide who would bend over backwards to see that glitter in her wide brown eyes.



Current Mood: Dismissive
Current Music: angel eyes

18 Jun 2004

Critique: Stupendous Man

Posted by krits in General | 2:58pm


What is it about flying that always makes you want to do it? Sitting here at work on the 5th floor of quite a trendy building has its advantages. You get a bird’s eye view of the city – you can see the monsoon clouds slowly gathering towards the evening and at one go you have the weather forecast for the whole city. It’s completely enchanting. You can tell whether it’s raining in Secunderabad, or whether the road outside my house will be flooded when I get home in the evening.

On days when all you get is a brief shower, you can actually see the dark clouds parting and a patch of impossibly radiant sun lighting up Mahendra hills in the distance. Like someone’s beaming a torch light down to see whether the people living there were ok with the fact that it rained only 5 minutes.

Then you have the crows, of course. They’re weirder than you could ever imagine. So there was this one crow that got it into his head (crows are all male –period) that he must swim against the tide and fly vertically instead. It wasn’t just a simple nose-dive that this guy attempted…he actually just suspended himself mid-air and kept going down like he was in an elevator, his wings spread wide open. Bump, bump, bump. Of course, the air-layers didn’t make it easy, but he did the one ‘un-crowy’ thing he was allowed in his lifetime.

Speaking of what’s real and what’s not, you must, must, must read a book called the Velveteen Rabbit. Yeah, yeah, I know, you’ve heard about it on ‘Friends’. I don’t know if your curiosity got the better of you, but I decided to seek it out online and read it. Google would be most willing to find it for you. It sort of reminds you of ‘The Little Prince’, the way it’s written and the distinctly ‘nursery’ theme it’s got. It makes you feel 10 and 30 all at the same time…quite a journey, that!

Coming back to flying, I was wondering – how come every little kid dreams of flying at least at some point in his kiddie life? I know quite a number of boys who all but jumped out of a reasonably high building because they wanted to be ‘superman’. How come ‘Stupendous man’ has a cape and flies?

Did you ever meet a kid who said I want to have fins so I can swim the ocean and back? How many super heroes do you know who are the voices of justice in the marine world? Why are wings the coolest and fins not?

What is it about flying anyway?



Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: Turn,turn,turn -Byrds

21 May 2004

Roadie Rowdies

Posted by krits in Hyderabad! | 6:32am


What is it with the traffic in this city??! You

Current Mood: Angry
Current Music: In the End

15 May 2004

Of 'popsicles' n sleep

Posted by krits in Holiday | 6:47am


These days, everyone has them - ‘NRI’ cousins, I mean. Even more so if you hail from a typically Hyderabadi family (Telugu, to be precise). Those far, yet close members of your extended family who decide to ‘find their roots’ in the stinking gullies of Abids (or Himayatnagar, or Domalguda) every once in a while.
Those who come with their princely entourage of ‘bottled water’, ‘Vitamin Pills’ and enough cartons of macaroni and cheese to see them through in case of a sudden drought. Sudden droughts and floods, you see, are fairly common in a ‘developing’ country like India.
I had an amazing encounter with a six year old American kid who actually asked me if we still traveled on elephants in India, and if there were snake charmers on every street corner. Well, you kind of let that comment pass if it’s coming from a kid who has her impossibly blue eyes forming ‘O’s in wonder. And if I wasn’t the six year kid that I was at that point, I probably would have done more than just choke on my ‘popsicle’.
I am yet to come across a Hyderabadi who didn’t sit through ‘Hyderabad Blues’ saying ‘tell me about it’ every time there was a dialogue delivery.
Anyways, coming back to the NRI brigade. There are some images that tend to stick in your mind, enduring all tests of time. Like the distinct ‘American’ smell that seems to emanate from every pore of their beings. It’s the smell that announces ‘We’ve arrived’ all the way from the airport lounge. Or the endless cartons of ‘gum’ they seemed to have lugged all the way across the seven seas.

I’ve stopped questioning why the entire family (including grandmom, great grandmom and the family cook) insist on waking up at 4am to receive them. Or why the entire brigade of family cars (bursting at the doors, I might add) has to brave the early morning smog to stand outside the airport entrance in anticipation.
All this to welcome home the prodigal family, and what do you know, the jet lag starts to kick in only moments after. It doesn’t matter - the cook is still whipping up ‘vedi vedi’ (um..hot hot) dosa’s, grandma is bustling about and already making the next batch of mango pickle, and relatives are pouring in from window to catch a glimpse of their favorite people in the whole world.
Now, say you’re this seven year old kid eagerly awaiting her cousins’ return, and damn, you want them to hurry up and give out the presents. But jet lag is jet lag, you can’t play with nature. However, as you get slightly older and wiser, you learn to battle the jet-lag in clever ways.
For instance, you can follow them around all the way from the door, to their bedrooms keeping up an endless chatter about what you’re dog did that morning. The secret is to never pause for a breath. And then, when they unzip the first Jansport backpack, wham! - start jumping around like a mindless imp and they might get the hint and hand out your ‘present’. If this doesn’t work, I think it might be best to go give your dog company the rest of the jet-lagged summer.
A much more mature and balanced view of this ‘NRI phenomena can be found in a book called ‘The Namesake’ by Jhumpa Lahiri. However, not all of us find it in our hearts to treat it as just another event, and prefer to alleviate it to the status of ‘blog content of the day’! Time to go find another popsicle, what say?

Current Mood: Wicked
Current Music: Sade- King of Sorrow

12 May 2004

Predisposed

Posted by krits in Hyderabad! | 1:35pm


Someone was mentioning early-morning GRE classes somewhere, and it brought on some particularly ‘fond’ memories.
I took up the above-mentioned sure shot to instant verbosity, with the long-term dream of traveling to distant shores and making a… well, making a damn good 2-year holiday of it! Needless to say, the word ‘career growth’ also came to mind while taking the plunge.
Anyways, so I signed up for this GRE class. (And that’s also because I had no intentioned of playing the role of ‘mathematics-dunce’ for much longer.) GRE comes with a certain opportunity to ‘build character’, as Calvin’s dad would put it.

It requires you to drag yourself out of bed at as early as 5.30 am, and you would think you would be well-rewarded for this ultimate sacrifice. Nopes, no such luck – the morning is as cruel as cruel can be.
The receptionist, who (to give him his due) is seated dutifully behind the impossible large desk at 6 am. You would think he would continue to play his part and cheerfully greet you a ‘good morning’ (whatever that means), and direct you to the pre- A/C-ed temple of education. Ha! The only word I ever managed to get out of him at that hour is a guttural threat, and a self-satisfied grin born out a dreamless-slumber.
Scene 2: You’re seated in a class which the sad innards of an A/C hang rusting on a wall, and the sad whirring of a table-fan that’s been forced to circulate air in a king-sized room.
After this particularly painful ordeal, you would think the faculty would provide some respite with their pearly-pearls of wisdom. Wisdom, you get, but with a forced lesson in the vernacular language (Read: Telugu). Nothing particularly wrong with that, except Maths does tend to sound a wee-bit weird when the intricacies of LCM and HCF are being explained with equally confusing concepts of Telugu grammar.
Scene 3: Lesson in Verbal skill: So, there was this teacher who came with all the meanings listed down in her exercise book, and any deviation from the ordinary was met with an ‘I’ll throw you out’ stare.
I was comfortably drifting in and out of a pleasant reverie, and had even managed to keep my eyes open for effect, when what she said bolted me out of the blue. Now, what would YOU do if you heard the lecturer say that ‘predisposed’ meant ‘disposing in advance’?
I’ve come to the conclusion that these are some of the ploys they use to wake students up at that hour, and trust me; they did a damn good job of it. And there ends the tale.



Current Mood: Bad Hair Day
Current Music: Kiss Me-Six Pence None the Richer

9 May 2004

Cosmic Issues

Posted by krits in General | 10:47am


What if, this is the only day that is yours, your only hour, your only second? What if tomorrow will be someone else’s and what if the moment you have right now will never occur tomorrow? And all those plans you faithfully listed down are but the ramblings of a non-existent person? What if tomorrow all traces of your existence are wiped off from the face of the earth? No one knows you anymore, and even though you’re a memory, you’re fading by a shade everyday? And finally a day would come when there is no proof that you ever were, that you ever smiled, you ever cried, you ever thought happy little thoughts, or you danced one day in the blinding rain? Time seems to be a convenient conceptualization that has spiraled into a vicious whirlpool for all humanity. If we had no real concept of time, would we ever think of yesterday, or tomorrow, or ever make a ‘time table’ to rule our lives? Observing your pet dog for a day would probably give you a glimpse of what it’s like not to have ‘time’ rule your existence. For example, do you think your pet dog (as a representation of the non-human species ) ever frets over where it’s next meal is coming from? Or do you think it ever wonders how to make up with you after its bad behavior yesterday? Or what it will do with its life in the future? We seem to be caught in a time wrap. It’s only obvious from the millions of ads you see in the papers these days – calling out to you to take up meditation, and ‘live in the present’. The first reality that meditation confronts you with is that 99% of our problems are created because of living in the past, or the future. Time seems to be a convenient intellectualization that was created so that we could find our bearings in the cosmos; so that the inconsistency of life did not overwhelm the average human. So that it made sense that there was rhythm, harmony and decisiveness- a goal to the phenomenon called life. Think about it, if you had no concept of time, your existence would be akin to that of an animal, perhaps. Your actions/motivations driven by pure instinct, and your ultimate goal to appease the tension arising thereof. Well, that’s a heavy load to digest, even for me! Like they say, time to go, I guess!

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: My way

6 May 2004

The Pot of Gold

Posted by krits in Fantasy | 7:11pm


Did any of you happen to catch the rainbow that made an appearance in today’s evening sky? Or perhaps most Hyderabadi’s were too busy sitting in front of their computer screens thinking up a fitting feature for their blogs ;-) It was an evening that had the potential to go down in the annals of poetic history. The potential to inspire hundreds of writers to sing praises to pots of gold, dappled sunlight streaming through impossibly grey clouds… you get the drift. Who chases rainbows anymore, anyways? I, for one, definitely believe in the age-old ‘pot of gold’ theory. For those unfamiliar with the concept - the multi-hued-ribbon-of-actually-refracted-white-light comes in a packaged deal. Apparently, along with being a pure visual delight, it holds (would you believe?!) a pot of gold at its darling little tail end. As an impossibly gullible six-year old, I remember straining my eyes and fantasizing that one day I would possess a big enough cycle that would actually take me to the end of the rainbow. I would dream of cycling for hours and hours, panting and puffing and would finally reach the Promised Land. If I had any idea of how many calories that would rid me of, I think I might have actually attempted it. So, the pot of gold I thought up was of the kind you would most likely find in an Amar Chitra Katha comic strip - filled to the brim and tumbling out into some poor farmer’s field (ok so I read a lot when I was little, ok?) However, it never occurred to me that like all of nature’s inconstancies, this had the potential to disappear on me too when I least expected. Making the ultimate sacrifice today, I skipped the 'Soprano' re-run on T.V and raced up to the terrace to catch whatever was left of the band of…umm…color. Trust Hyderabadi weather to play damp squib… the tyrant that divines rain on Divali, parched days in the monsoons and yep, rain in summer! When I reached the Promised Land, there was Mr.Nose Picking sneaky neighbor, a deeply overcast sky, and the first signs of what appeared to be a potential thunderstorm. A little bit of huffing and puffing up and down the length of my terrace ensued. Then the clouds dreamily parted, the dappled sunlight did a soundless dance on the rooftop, and then came undone the most un-proverbial pot of gold you would ever spot in the evening sky.

Current Mood: Cheerful
Current Music: Iris-The Goo Goo Dolls?

5 May 2004

Mobile Blues

Posted by krits in General | 11:15am


I have finally joined the ranks of 'Mobile phone lost-ee'. In a muddled, hazy moment I found myself bereft of my singularly most important possession.And as all victims inevitably do, I'm suffering from 'post traumatic stress disorder'. Those agonizing moments of denial, acceptance..and oh, I forget the rest of the phases. I think this is one of those 'episodes' in your life that cause lasting damage to your psyche-leaves you 'scarred-for life' and surfaces in the confines of a therapists armchair at some point. Sigh!A moment of an all-too-brief insight tells me that the value of a mobile phone can be wholly felt ONLY once you've lost it.That too to some loser to whom the names in your address book mean nothing more than an extract out of an alphabetically arranged 'Name Book.' To someone who'll think nothing of ripping out the sweet little 'memory chip'(pun intended on the 'memory' bit) that has been faithfully pulsing life into your otherwise isolated life. It's amazing what a humbling experience it is to lose that pint-sized instrument. For example, you might as well be saying mental good-bye's to the poor souls who's identities you trusted to your phone book.A quick search in your age-old 'hand-written' diaries will reveal that you have no other living records of all those people.Makes you wish you kept one of those neat little floral diaries by the telephone and had neatly printed peoples name, addresses, phone numbers, and 'neighbours numbers in 'case of emergencies'. Well, this is an emergency and I have no hotline to call, no neighbours number for damage control. What worsens the heart-ache is the sight of the lonely charger, hanging on the wall in anticipation.You poor thing- sniff..never shall you experience the joys of...well, whatever the joy is you feel when you're plugged into the bottom of a cell phone! Well...he's gone now-my faithful 24/7 companion for life..whisked away by some shady, greasy haired, middle-man for underhand cell phone deals...may he lose his fingers for excessive sms-ing. Oh!Btw, I think the last phase of this predicament is 'venting out' and wishing the death of the perpetuator. I feel better now..but the faint strain of the 'Walk of Life' ring tone from the neghbour's window brings on the nostalgia...and my ear burns up with jealousy.

Current Mood: Angry
Current Music: Sweet Lullaby-Deep Forest
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