Tuesday, July 08, 2008


The FIRST thing they do is attack the ladies' loos.

I went up and down the Arts building Thrice to find a functioning ladies' toilet. They were either locked or being renovated. Or one had to leap over the (uninviting. [duh]) piece of shit at the entrance of the only one that was open.

So I made horrified Science dork stand guard in front of a men's loo in the paasher building while I peed. I never imagined I'd call anyone bhaiti. Khyak. I must be getting old.

No, seriously, I must. I can't hold it in for as long as I used to be able to.

What's troubling is, we used to not have to be nice to the boys while we hijacked their toilets. Ah well, a little discretion relieves tummy ache. I will stop now.

It's good to be back. Stories to tell already.

But I need to flush sometimes dudes. Give us back our rest rooms.

[Yesyes, comments. I remember. Lovely little people, feel my pain. And paralyzing lethargy.]

Wednesday, July 02, 2008


Cold and wet, like the days.

Smile. Better than speech and discovery.

Which is a better word - fulsome or blossom? Blossom. So how come I get to use the other one more, hain?

Walk towards the light, walk into darkness. Either way, you're blinded.

Much has been left behind.

Stop asking me how I feel. It is enough that I feel.

Pursuit. Persuasion. Perjury.

"What does freedom taste like?" she asked. Rain? I don't know. Your thoughts?

Nothingness and a constant buzzing.

Unwell. Like a fever. Like a viral fever? Like contagion. Well, unwell. khyak

Yes, I feel better. Because you only want results. Because there is no truth in what you do not know. How I laugh sometimes.

Voices spilling. and William Butler Yeats.

For you I bleed myself dry. Coldplay. Yellow.

William Rubin, Esq. Him of the pickled liver and artful despondency.


Was cat, now hanky.