another life of waiting. for what? i know not. i wait. like the proverbial idiot. do idiots wait? profound question, but i dont have an anwser. these days i dont have too many answers. what do i do? how do i make it right? sometimes i think i am doing it all wrong. it was my fault that all this happened anyways so who am i to crib. but crib i still do, hoping for one of those miracles to emerge from somewhere. let it go girl, let it all go. let the good times go. let the bad times go. question is, how? how do i stop myself from staring into something i dont want? i was afraid of meeting him. now i'm petrfied. what difference does it make? none, i know. oh but i love him. i love him so much. he is my baby. was. all has changed. changed so much that i no longer know anything anymore. i look at myself now and i dont recognise the girl i was. so how will he? two strangers will meet in a world without possibilities. i know i will get over this. someday. somehow. till then i will crib. hey, i can do that much can't i? juvenile. but of course i am juvenile. but at least when i talk about her he talks. otherwise the silence is too much for me. i was never one for silences anyways. never one for living a life without words. and when words are all you have how can life go on without them? if life can go on without him, then words are mere pebbles on the beach. of pebbles and of scribbles. not me. it was not me. the smell, the memory, the rain, the smile after the rain. it is not me any more. it was. not so long ago it was. i was there. now i am not. people come. people go. life goes on. he said, move on with your life. i am trying baby, i am trying. but i love you too much. and there is no way i can tell you. if there had been invisible words you would have seen all my love in letters. as you would have heard it in my silences. i know you know. you know i know you know. but is it only me? am i only a distant memory? self pity, gir, this is all self pity. grow up. get out of it. shit happens. life goes on. so will yours. you will look back and laugh. i keep telling myself that but why do i find it so hard to believe? why do i find it so hard to end this? even these words? why do i feel the moment i will stop writing all of it will come crashing back on me again? because i know only too well that it will. so i keep on writing. in a vain hope that i will be able to keep all else at bay. if i succeed you will know. if i fail, even then. it seems only yesterday that i met him. only yesterday we were spending a lifetime all in one night. i can see her right now. huddled beside the window, clutching her blue little cellphone and typing out her life as the rain comes pouring down. he's right there, waiting for her. her little boy. his girl. a girl in a blue dress. his girl. she liked that. she wanted to be his. when she crossed the road, she could imagine him standing there at the bus stop, smiling a smile only he could. she can see it all. the room, those stolen hours, the birds in the wide open sky under which they sat...where did it all go? why did it all have to end? there is no answer.shadows, he says. shadows came in the way. yes, he is right. they did. she let them in. time and again as he tried, she messed it all up. now its just not fair that she asks him to back. what is gone is gone. shadows took them away? maybe it wasn't only the shadows. maybe it was. what difference does it make?
let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bend with the remover to remove. o no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks upon tempests and is never shaken. it is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth's unknown although it's heighth be taken. love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass comes. love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom. if this be error and upon me proved, i never writ, nor no man ever loved.
pretty words. but it ends. they all do.

they were strangers. who knew each other only for a lifetime. then the night ended. then the song ended. but while it lasted it was good and that's all that really matters. the question is, where do all these songs go once they end? do they just disappear? do they stay somewhere hidden?
they sat and asked each other how the chinks appeared. no one really knew the answers. or maybe they both did, but what was the point? so they are strangers once more in a world full of strangers. and so it begins all over again as the paths go their different ways. but the memories remain. with the good times and the bad. the walks they walked. along dusty roads...one hungry dog, a packet of biscuits. yes it's all good. she asks herself, will the paths cross again? will they walk together? he answers with his silence, one that she has come to know so well. where did it all go so horribly wrong? why did shadows cloud the dreams they had? she knows. oh yes she knows so well. she's paid the price, she's paying for it every day. back to old love songs, sappy movies and a certain dravid. a life she had dared to leave behind. she wishes him a world of happiness, a world without shadows, a world full of rainy days and stolen kisses. it's finally all about her again. only about her as the world swirls around in with its madding crowds. yes, it's all good. once again.

i have been watching this tv series called "Californication" (oohh how terribly american that sounds. tv series. anyways). after a very long time i actually found something i liked so unabashedly. as unabashedly as to watch 13 straight episodes back to back. i like the guy. evidently aging does not have to make someone look bad. the opposite has definitely happened in this case. i love the humour. i love that sarcasm. i dont know if its just me or if there is something in the air that says that this world could do with a lot more tongue in cheek, plain old fashioned sarcastic humour. now is that an oxymoron? to some maybe. i love.
and there is something so terribly appealing about a goodlooking man who is willing to engage in an intellectually amusing stychomathia with the necessary deadpan face. all in all, a good combination. how much i am going to like the next season i do not know. what i do know is i want the story to have the cliched happy ending. it is just so fitting. i mean, look at it this way, dont we have enough unhappy endings as it is in this world? why extend it to the movies? thus i finally discover the philosophy behind sop. but let me tell you this, those people who make and buy that sop are lonely people, heart broken perhaps. hoping against hope that some of that cinematic charm rubs off onto their miserable day-in day-out existence. well as things stand, i like what i see, ideology or otherwise. or was it philosophy?