Prose before hos

 As far as I remember, I was begging for clarity last week and clarity is what I got. If there was an attempt to see the light at the end a tunnel, I think, here we are. There's light, there's clarity. It may not be pretty or fancy but it's illuminated enough for facts to be viewed. 

Yeah, I get it. There's no need to be dramatic or cryptic but my international viewers seem to terrify me. To think there is some loser out there in France reading this page and making sense of this is equal parts concerning (for the sake of their employment and sanity) and amusing. I don't want to crack jokes at the expense of those who visit this page but sometimes I wonder, what is it about my banalities that people want to put their heads into? 

I do it too. I mean, I was a big fan of this whole getting to know someone through their words and setting eyes on them only years later, but for fuck's sake, it's 2021. Everyone knows everyone, why do we have to pry and read into things more than they seemingly offer? I have some sense of public/private dichotomy but to a large extent, I've eased into giving controlled access to those who want to read into things more. It helps in knowing if there's an audience and if so, you get a sense of whether they are responding to your garbage just as how you expect them to be or not. 

Right, so much for clarity that I've consciously been thinking of the last few days and increasingly feeling more like myself. The only hiccup? It's myself from when I was 16 with the enthusiasm of when I'll be 54. I have no strength to push and get things done, and it doesn't look good. This is why I'm always in awe of those who accomplish shit. Just about anything. You got out of bed and worked out? Good stuff. You lost your Ferrari contract and are now racing for a new team, fuck yay, I'm stoked for you.

Anyway, all's well that ends well. Aka, my period for the month. Pending payment. Conference. Visit to the dentist. Seeing all of my remaining friends in the span of 2 weeks. Understanding that there's such a thing where you heat the rasgulla and enjoy. End of another March. 

I hate my laptop more than I hate anything else in the world. I know— I should show some gratitude to this old tinfoil of a machine, just for the shared history and how we've known each other over the years. I genuinely believe that this laptop brought in a string of bad luck. A friend calls it "Saade Saati", implying 7.5 years of ill luck, but here we are, nearly at the end of that period and still no luck. Unemployment has become a permanent fixture and curiosity is nearly dead. I have only one thing to blame, you know it. 

My permanent retainers have both come off. One is jabbing my tongue from the right and the other is in pieces that I'm holding together with agnostic prayers, night after night. Not the best look especially if you have spent the better part of your 20s practicing celibacy by the virtue of having adult braces (and then with the motherfucking pandemic). 

I'll probably dedicate separate posts to the celibacy end of things in time to come, when hopefully wires are not jabbing my tongue as I speak. Although, the irony is not lost on me. I don't need to *speak* of those events and I also do need to point the obvious that my mouth couldn't sustain the damage done to my ego (?). 

Clarity, in days to come. Hopefully, when my arse is on fire closer to the deadline of my dreaded return to academia after a while. 

Until then, here's something I hate. 

 "Uncle, thank you for sending the food. I had it over lunch and dinner and it was lipsmacking!"

"Yeah uncle, I was sort of busy. Uh, yeah but next time."

"Aap thodi der ke liye hi aa jaate?"

"Han uncle, but I was on a date. That's why I couldn't come by."