What do I write?

Free writing- without which I feel incomplete, might not have any value but I will still try and give it a structure. Because a structure makes me feel safe and look at that which I will be unable to look at if it is let loose and allowed to be beheld in a loose way. It seems like I am looking inside my brain and the biological details turn into labyrinths of lava. Could be just a stereotype of a scary place imagined on the lines of hellish fires.
I hate my inability, I hate this stasis and I hate to have to think. Some moments I feel like the thoughts will burst through my ears and letters will come out singing and skipping like in an animated story intended to teach children- ‘learning can be fun’.
And I feel the vomit welling up inside me, and I want to start a scentence with an and, I want to. And the computer this word doc. Reigns in the errors to a large extent, and then makes errors of its own but I want to drum out words like a sexual experience- violent and brutal. Just the drumming and the loss of cramping structures and these letters itself control and bind and cramp- just as desire itself controls and cramps and makes you want to vomit.- its sick when I think I punch in something which I might think is wise. The philosophy. My head would explode with the disgust I feel for all acts of language. There is a freedom I want from language language language language, and still need to express… I clench my fists and wonder- why cant vomit be the more accepted form of self expression.

sneak peak to check if i still got any readers

Its been long. Now that I am quite sure that nobody reads this blog I am finally comfortable enough to blog again. So, an incomplete post, i dont know why i was thinking like this on Feb 19th, but well i was...Some lines have been duly censored much like war communication...

February 19th
Crazy crazy day. So I did what I am best at…making a complete fool out of myself. I think I’d truly wither away and cease to exist if I don’t do something stupid for a while. Alcohol is an evil vile thing. I think I am going to giveup this satanic spirit, because ofcourse the concept of moderation is completely and totally alien to me. So lets see where that takes us- I have almost given up smoking, I am planning on giving up alcohol, I have actually -------------------------------------------------------------------------*censored*. I am heading towards sainthood.

Firstly, why is alcohol a vile thing. Okay, this might take some time, lets start with why and how I have almost givenup smoking…
There was this stage when all of us were trying it, coughing, getting used to the nicotine hit, feeling cool about ourselves because we smoked (I always had some self esteem issues!), and well being a woman smoker made me feel so liberated. Going and buying a cigarette while the men gaped and looked on disapprovingly made me feel like I was contributing to the feminist movement in such a big way…paving the way for future women smokers, who’d find it not embarrassing to go and buy cigarettes because there sisters before them had the guts to look up at the patriarchal pricks and blow the smoke into their faces. (aside- I am convinced that if I am not dramatic, I will die.) those were the days of sitting outside college and smoking, smoking inside college coz life is all about cheap thrills, smoking in shady corners in the colony, and looking down on moralistic aunties who told us very candidly that ‘girls from good families shouldn’t smoke’, to which I said- what the fuck is a good family and how the hell do you know that I am from one.

The friends I made over cigarettes are going to last me forever. One of the best ice breakers ever. Recently I was spending time with Nandi and her cousin. These two hadn’t seen each other in some time, didn’t know much about each other, as the cousin had moved to Canada when she was about ten. So Nandi was being all goody two shoes in front of the cousin, and cousin was also all polite friendly but wary of talking too much. All it took was me asking if anyone was interested in a smoke, and we three soon endedup sitting on my balcony, guzzling beer, smoking a whole pack and talking about boys, excuses made to the family to go to Cuba with boy, sex-and how its so much better when you are stoned, coz apparently the guy can go for hours- of course, a claim made by the cousin which just begs verification. I’ll just have to find out on my own, all for the sake of knowledge.
Smoking is an institution which evokes trust. If I can lightup in fromt of a person without feeling like he or she is judging me, then I can tell them about some other things in my life and more often than not, find a shared understanding.

My smoking memorabilia includes a photograph of a much rubbed on my face birthday cake, shape of a cigarette with gold flake written across it, and a lit gold flake on it instead of candles; two cigarette holders which I thought were so la-di-da; an ashtray, supposedly a candle stand of some sort, a gift from nanka, but was just always used as an ashtray n I refuse to throw away the last buds that lie in it; a packet(empty now) of Peter Stuyvesant, a gift from a much loved friend; a tacky orange lighter with a bright blue light at the bottom; a bag which will forever smell of smokes… and so many memories of udhaar from panvaris, how a cigarette crackles when its drizzling and the smell of wet earth is mixed with the smooth smoky classic regular, how chai tastes with gold flake, of winter mornings that were warmed by a cigarette, of smoking in a loo in ludhiana and loving the shared complicity in all the sneaking, of the wonders of sitting on the john in the mornings with a lit cigarette, of bad throats from India Kings, of smacking my lips after Gudang Garam, of a father who got mad because his daughter’s friends could smoke inside the house whereas he had to go out on the balcony, cocktail cigs and More, sutta buddies, an eerie park known as the ‘adda’, disapproving glances, lecherous stares, boys wondering how a girl could smoke Regular. Bidi, Davidoff, Marlborough, Goldflake choti and badi, and mine with much love…Classic Regular!!
Now are the days when the same friends, all talk about how they want to quit…earlier the conversation would start with how long have you been smoking, now everyone just seems to ask- so for how long have you been trying to quit?
With me its simple. I had ...


*I dont know what i wanted to say after this, well, it was sometime ago...so there.