Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Unsent - ii

Dear Newspaper that pays me pittance,
Please let me have a life? Please help me afford the life I want? It only involves a couple martinis and a liposuction.
Did I ask too much?
More than a lot?
You gave me nothing
Now it's, all I got.


Dear Chief Sub-Editor who should totally not be reading this (but invariably will),
Look, it's a love song. Don't dooce me.

Dear Man who directed CS to this blog, all the better to cause its doom and mine,
Are ya happy now?

Dear All,
I have pms.

Dear People who have left me comments on the fat girl post,
I will respond. You know I want to. But I feel bloated now, and not at all phenomenal. I will respond when I have more conviction. :-D

Dear Empowered aunties who show untoward concern for my matrimonial career (and the fact that it never took off),
If you tell me about my designated role as a caregiver one.more.time, I shall ... fart.

Dear Boys,
Is it really true that men can't be friends with women they're not attracted to? Has every woman who has ever watched When Harry Met Sally asked you this question?
It really is quite intriguing.

Dear Bank Balance,
Where are you?

Dear Friends who have deserted me for other women and weddings,
Whoa? Let's get drunk soon. And dance to "hindi numbers".

Dear Blog,
I will be your caregiver.

Dear Rainbeau,
That sounded pathetic. Please stop.

Friday, April 25, 2008

I wish it had been something else I was writing

We remember the dead by what they meant to us.
I didn't know him at all. But I used to see him on the bridge with his girlfriend. We would laugh in our little corner, wishing they'd get a room. But then they kept at it, and we just got used to having them around. He was another bridge fixture, like we were. Weaselly little boy, always on the look-out for a joint. And now he's dead of an OD.

Is it just me or does it happen to everyone that when you hear that a friend, or a relative, or just a distant uncle or that boy you knew existed, passed away, the first thought that comes to mind is, "Why did it have to be someone I know?"? Why did it have to be someone I can associate with a face and a body and a voice. And glimpses from the past. Maybe it's just me.

One mustn't speak ill of the dead. I haven't very nice things to say about him. In all honesty, I don't know when the news of his death stopped being about him and became about me. The news came to me in an offhand way. Some boy in my department had died, I was informed. And I remember thinking of this other girl, who, a few days back had written that she couldn't stop crying. And at that time I'd thought she was crying because she had maybe messed up a test. And I thought I'd message her and say something inane like "stay away from Derrida, he cashed in on his poor spelling skills", but then I thought better of it because she's another person I don't know but was used to seeing around. I know you read this blog occasionally, and I want to say I feel stupid now. Although you probably didn't have to know any of this. Hang in there.

In the midst of life we are in death.
It's amazing how you think your life is pretty unremarkable and you've got it all chalked out, and then suddenly someone dies of substance abuse. I used to do all that myself, because hippie trash seemed like an effective emotional outlet. It wasn't. Maybe I was lucky I began falling sick and knew I had to stop. Or maybe I grew up.


I hope his parents forgive him. Jackass. I hope he finds what he was looking for.