A Thing of Beauty

They say, you can never be too rich or too skinny.

Or, can you?

I remember a friend of mine telling me that she wanted to be slimmer because someone she knew thought that slimmer people looked smart.

I ask... what is the quotient of smartness in comparison to body weight? One of the most incredible women I have ever met in my life weighs way over average but still manages to make people's head turn when she walks in... not because of her body, but because of a pair of eyes and a face that can literally impose and command... like in the battles lost and won once upon a time.

Most men I have met have agreed that so-called "HOT" is actually very temporary a phase which soon phases out. Like the moment, it wears off once the person in question opens her respective mouth.

Beauty... is a mere myth, quickly lost in the haze of the person.

I consistently see women growing overweight in a vicious circle of self-denial. The whole I-AM-FAT-BUT-I-SHALL-DIET-BUT-TOMORROW is not something that is healthy. You see, after nearly ten years of failed attempts at DIETING, I realized that thats bull. There is no such thing. All I had to do was eat right.

But what was right? What was right for me might not be so for someone else. For example, eating a lot in the morning, and consistently slow down as the day progresses works wonders on me, but might not on someone else.

So what to do??

I have a vague feeling that we women are never satisfied with the way we look. I do not know even ONE woman who is *perfectly* happy with the way she looks, and that is scary. The condition of women to be "a thing of beauty" has led us to objectify and imitate what we *supposedly* do not possess. Yet the myth of being PRETTY leads us on a rat race of being on the *lookers* list.

What list? Who Determines them? How do we determine what is the best look for a woman?

I do not think that there are any *correct* answer here. All I want to think is that as long as we are not physically harming ourselves, we can be, like the proverbial Bacardi, what we want to be, and with my blessings, too.

Mandakini

Of course, this might sound like a post on the 80s. It is not, though my formative years were shaded with the voluptuous heroine, famed for her beautiful white face, with pink smudges all over. She was supposed to be the image of distinct prettiness, and kaka thought she was the prettiest girl in the world.

No wonder I did not like her much.

So I was coming back from work the other day and suddenly found my driver on his knees beside my car. Curious, I went in to see exactly why was he prostrate, and realized that this little, tiny black critter was under the damn car. The lights made it impossible for me to understand the species of my intended, but I brought it down to a cat or a puppy.

However, long moments of coaxing followed, followed by cajoling, and ultimately insults and poking. To no avail. The "dear, sweet thing" as my driver claimed, refused to exit.

Frustrated to no end, I exclaimed: "Dhur Nyaka Mondakini, Bero!!" ("Just get out, you pretentious Mondakini!" Yes, I know. Translation does not work here, does it??)

Wonder of wonder, miracle, miracle.

She came out.

So after that, I generally found her at my doorstep, which is quite a distance from her litter. She's the runt of the group, detested by her mum. So of course, I sometimes feed her.

Okay, I feed her quite often...

And I realized she likes my shoes. I am now the owner of three pairs of torn strappy slippers, thanks to a mouthful of busy teeth which loves nipping at me, going underfoot, and generally following me like the proverbial lamb of Mary (Which, if Mary was wise, she should have used to make a mean profit at the slaughterhouse). She also has become the light of my students' lives, who love having her with them, and brings her biscuits. Once the runt, she's become quite an expert manipulator. Even my personal mum falls for her. Dyammit.

Which is a problem. Of course, she is after my life. I am gracefully bearing it.

A song with no name for lack of imagination

janish janish janish. I love you.

just toldyou because I feel so confused and tired and I dont know maybe if my life wasn't going down the drains like it is now

I would not be sniffing and crying in front of the comp right now trying to picture your face in my mind's eye, and just feeling helpless. s****ms****m isn't it just a drearypainful thing to be helpless, knowing there's no one just no one who's out there to save you?

and yes, rescue syndrome is on.

but I can't help stop the visions of paradise. why why whyandwhy am i feeling like this i dont know. just tell me that i am not alone i am not alone feeling lonely and pained because the man i love is showing me pictures of another woman in throes of an orgasm.

I cant i canticant take this. dont ask me where the pain is going.

I dont know but i will probably go mad if i haven't already. tell me just tell me that i am not alone. i cant get no happiness re. no happiness. keno jani na keno jani na.


In the years to come, this shall be a memory too.

As a Friend said...

I walk like I am on a hunt. Its intimidating to unsuspecting males/females.

This is the same woman who once told me she considers her body to be a burden sometimes. With its millions of problem.

I looked in the mirror today and found those extra curves in my butt and around my waist and on my arms. I realized that I don't mind them.

When I was growing up, my body was one of the most mysterious things I knew. Far from unraveling and exploring it, I shied away from the mirror, covered myself in clothes far too large for my body, and put on glasses. I greased my hair with coconut oil, and refused to feel pretty. Too miserable in my own gloom, I used to think I was unlovable and that was the way it was going to be. Thanks to the upper body that refused to subside. Or the lower body that never seemed to get "right".

I grew up under the shadow of my mother. Literally.

The family unanimously agreed on her prettiness. She was the very beautiful woman. I used to think so too. My mother was, and probably always shall remain, the most beautiful woman I know.

But I never found her to be the most incredibly attractive woman. Strangely enough, the definition of a firm cheekbone attracted me far more than the delicate turn of an eyebrow, and the strength in a staunch pair of shoulders made me feel more happy than a submissive pair of downcast eyes. I grew up to stare at my self in the mirror, squaring my shoulders, lifting my chin, and walking on straight, without an apology for being who I was. All beginning at age 15 when I realized I needed to be proud, and not ashamed of what I was and who I was.

And thus began the walk. I still walk, shoulders squared, straight, without apology. I know that my body has thousands of problems in it, fitness and otherwise, but I somehow realize that they are all mine.

And I am quite proud of it.

Mixing logic

Ever thought what does it take to mix with the rest of the world?

This post should have been named mucous. What with all the hacking cough and slimy nostrils, The Panu is sick with it all. However, The Sister still rises. Over and over again through the night, and comes to plague her hapless Older One with seemingly endless question that end with Hentai.

Beastly Tales...

She is in the mists somewhere. In this darkness which she calls her home, her mind and her body mingles together in the cold rain that falls through the night. The moon is hidden there... in the darkness nothing is visible, so the sound of the rain falling hits the ear with a dull dripping prolonged note that has been stretched too long, trilling and tripping on its way.

She stares at this darkness that permeates parts of her. But parts of her refuse to be in the dark. They spread out, run out, the colours of the night barely hide the mad glints of her eyes, white as snow, still and terribly still as they focus on the prey that lurks in the darkness.

Slowly she moves through the mists, the darkness often cuts through to reveal the pale gleam of a ring, or the flash of feral teeth.

Slowly, and slowly she closes on her prey. She nears and nears and nears.

And then she pauses.

For there the Julychildren sat, staring at the laptop first, then suddenly looking up and an impish grin spread as they quietly closed the lid of the computer and ordered a glass of Appletini.

And hence ended the morbid tale that never was.

I'm Working... I Am!!

As a lot of people who don't read this blog shall observe... I am a workaholic.

I say... I just love my work.

Denial

There's something

In a broken piece, that feels

As fragile as china, as precious as gold

Yet

I left my self running in the streets where

You once pretended

That nothing went wrong

And I look now in your precious eyes

And see nothing

Feel nothing

Think nothing

For no thing can think nothing.

The worlds are blankly staring

As your wild eyes glaze over me and find an empty space

And no, no, no, you ingested me well enough

To know these 'no's actually mean nothing

Anymore.


Since I am now beyond that

Why not sit with a glass of wine,

And see, see? There's nothing left to feel about,

What I once was, now is roaming in the darkened streets of this city

Following your shadows

And chasing your dreams.

Dream a Little...

I found my first diary today. It came from an era when I was a child... and I wrote down my dreams.

On a strange turn of thoughts, I decided to write down my present dreams.

I could not write them... the pen scrolled down meaningless letters that never made sense to me.

untold.

Pyaar ye jaane kaisa hai

Kya kahein ye kuchh aisa hai

Kabhi dard ye deta hai kabhi chein ye deta hai

Kabhi gam deta hai kabhi khushi deta hai


Oh god.

Closure

It says, life always brings you to a full circle. When I was a little girl with ambitions to become a dog trainer someday, I dreamt of swanning inside the premises of my school with all the teachers staring at the exceptionally well-behaved dogs accompanying me. In class VIII, somewhere in the midst of Deepika Ma'am's class, the dogs got transformed to humans. My teacher told me to be strong and pursue my dreams. And I dreamt of reading storybooks all my life, and explain the stories to people.

I didn't even know when my storybooks were exchanged for the heavier tomes of commercial gains. I choked myself in them. Whatever was new to me got lost in the heavy dullness of mathematical precision. I wanted to close my eyes and fade far away.

Then came the time when I reacted. I refused to continue my miseries further and decided to do what I wanted to do. Xavier's was my saviour. The enormous halls enclosed me in their safety and I got lost in the thousands of books I began to sample. I was poorer than a church mouse and loved it. It seemed like a whirlwind, the three years I spent there. JU was surreal and I was bemused and dazed for being suddenly thrown into a world where work beckoned.

And so I worked.

And then came a time when I moved back. I got a call and I was going back to school.

Only this time, when I pass a student, he says, "good morning ma'am."

My teachers, the severe critics of my childhood, sing praises and welcome me with open arms.

I am 25. I just went back to school. Its changed, yes. So have I. And now I can finally look at the days of my life in school without cringing in fear or shock. Now I accept it.

Follow Me Home...

A cat.

Which has had kittens last night.

Reminds me of the times when my mother was pregnant again and EVERYONE said "It'll Be a Boy!!" except me who was frightened out of all wits thinking if it was a boy then he'd beat me mercilessly, like my friend was beaten up by her baby brother.

That along with the usual male-phobia a 10 year old can muster.

I don't think having a sister improved the situation much. For a long time now The Sister's been practicing her Tae Kwon Do on me.

Here is the point where I say: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. Etc.

I belong to a place...

Where people actively try to brain others if those unfortunate others display the slightest hint of homophobia. They go after them with verbal pitchforks and try to kill them for being 'unnatural', blackball them for having the thoughts of an average human being not really exposed to the core of same-sex relationship.

And I personally detest those people for deliberately terrorizing in order to suppress their own dubious feeling about the matter, thanks to which they scream for legalizing same-sex relationships; while at the other hand, if someone who is allegedly homosexual communicates with another member of his/her own sex, then immediately he/she is accused of hitting on someone.

I somehow detest the attitude of apparent free-spiritedness, which underlies a mean-minded, narrow, vicious attitude which I find insincere and confused, to use polite terms.

Bigotry seems to be set everywhere.

I used to love running when I was a kid.

It was one of the things I was good at.

Then came asthma, rattling coughs and wheezes, and those moments of the wind tearing through my hair stopped.

I love car rides. I can put my head out of the window and watch the world rush by.

I wanted to run. Once. Away away away.

But then, there was that asthma again.

Sometimes I wonder if I hide behind it or not.

Sometimes I know I do. Not sure of the certainties of it all.

And there's this part, and I know I would love to run again. But what to do when my will to run is lost? What to do when I realize that this whole time I was wishing to run, I was trying to talk myself in circles and coming back to where I came from?

Something is wrong here. Something is wrong.

This road wasn't supposed to circle. It was supposed to open out. Where did I go wrong?

Righteous Outrage

The state has finally lost it. I mean this as a small post where I lament the fact that our intellectual heads are somehow deep in the murky depth of dense misunderstanding which hinders us from moving forward.

I think I have to say it because I see thousands of people poring over their TV channels, trying to explain how the BUDDHIJIBI people of West Bengal are telling the whole world that "people from the location" say that the Police is brutal and are attacking us", completely overlooking the point that these so-called people are all part of those who are fighting the forces, the perpetrator of the cruelties that has not only been the part and parcel of the place over the last eight months, but for the last four years.

And the worst bit is, what these idiots do not understand is that any moment one of those people of the village can come and take one of them (or all of them) hostage and demand safe passage.

Not that the world would mind the loss of some of those.

When I was Ten

I had a cousin who'd follow me around like a little lost lamb saying "Fun-di" because he could not pronounce my name. I used to spend summer vacations with my kid cousin trying to teach him to catch flies and burp. Not elegant, certainly... but I was never very elegant in the first place. We would go up to the roof with a handful of stolen pickles and sit together with other cousins of mine, all older, and play fierce games of hide-and-seek (I ended up with a bloody nose once... so there!) and Ludo. He was too young to play Ludo so he was always on my side.

When I was Fourteen we realized my cousin was not like other kids. He was different. Because at Six, he could not do things which boys of Three could do. Slowly we discovered that he had Ataxia, a form of Cerebral Palsy, and he was, what can be commonly called, Spastic.

He never gave up. He had a problem with balance and eye movement but he was smart and studied privately and we were teaching him things to do. He had worked and studied, and began to listen to books being read out to him.

He almost made it.

But well, life was not really very sympathetic. Five months after his 18th birthday, his kidneys gave way, and he went into a coma. The doctor discreetly told us that it was very difficult to find a kidney donor for an abnormal boy.

Last night he died. His heart could not take it.

Everyone was saying what a relief it was. For him and his parents. The burden finally released.

Through the blind haze of pain, I just walked out of my filthy house.

Apparently work is work....

And my blog has been called "dumb". By a friend who thinks its high time I give up.

As told recently in a conversation between friends, two of my friends have got jobs in the same company under the same boss and they apparently are yelling at each other because apparently P is saying "Thank you" when S had slaved over the solution and vice versa.

In other news, I have recently been thinking about dirty Bengali swear words. And a friend has been trying to teach some of them to non-bongs who just does not do it right.

And well, there has been an incident where a friend of mine apparently propelled a car with her puke. This means, she helped speed up the car by retching up a storm of slime from her gullet.

And oh, I have been thinking of going to Delhi in this heat.

The Grandmother thinks my blog picture is scary. I don't agree however.

Yes, well, never thought my blog was very smart, either.

There are in my blog plenty of posts on friends.

There are a few about family.

Today there's going to be one where I can tell you that I am blessed with a family of my own choosing.

Somehow as this dark night slowly dawns to this day I would like to tell you how beautiful the moments are when you know you are among people who will look at you, find and point out all the problems you have, and then, say... "So What?" to all of them and love you no matter what you are.

Once, I used to be in constant feat that I was the outsider. But these amazing people brought me in. And made me feel a warm touch somewhere near the core of what I am. It happens when someone just casually says... "You can't go to Europe, you'll have to come to America because we're all there and we're together. The three of us." And its there when someone scolds your head off saying..."Uff how random are you!" and at the same breath utter... "Never be anything else... I love you.". And then there are times when someone gives you the tightest hug in the world that threaten to crush your bones and say "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." And the times when you're on the other side of the phone jumping because I've got something I need.

I love my family. I love them. They're what I want to have.

Friends...

Its horrible when they betray you.

Its just horrible.

Well I have been planning this

Apart from the mass hysteria posts and the "I'm upset" posts and random tags, I have been basically sitting on my bum doing nothing ever since I quit my job. I don't like the politics, and unlike certain people, would rather leave than compromise. I have an issue with attitude and ego-talk, and sexual discrimination, and I prefer moving in safe (read unemployed) waters. People might say I am talking tosh, but well, they are allowed their opinions.

Some times I wonder what this whole shebang is. I mean, I come here, take a deep breath, and begin, and go away, letting that deep breath go. All the miracles of birth I guess. Can I please pause to review what have I been up to?

*Pause. Inspect. Done*

Okay. A lot. I am preening now.

It hurts at first.

But then you learn to dull it. After a while it dulls. And then it slowly goes numb.

But it comes when you are weak and at your most vulnerable, and it shakes you up, pounds your senses so hard that you writhe in the pain.

And then it slowly dulls again.

You can't really tuck it in a corner and forget it. Its always there. Even in a meaningless dream.

Movied Life.

Got this off Spanish Goth.

So here are the rules:-

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?
So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie. Though I know everyone will cheat.


Opening Credits:

Help I'm A Rock - Zappa (Would someone delete all the Zappa songs from my playlist? Pretty please? This is like the beginning of a sarcasm-parade!!)

Waking Up:

Baby Got Back - Sir Mix-a-lot (Okay I can see this movie becoming a porn)

First Day At School:

Gia Farrell - Hit Me Up (Tap-dancing."Cant you see me walking through the door?" Yep. This is going to be a porn. I can see it)

Making Your New Best Friend:

Fall Our Boy - Thanks for the Memories (so my new best friends are monkeys)

Falling In Love:

Cranberries - Zombie (I mean... Hello!! Whats in your Head?)

Breaking Up:

Juelz Santana - There it go (the Whistle song) (Cheez Whiz!!)

Prom:

Rock and roll Soniye - Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna (Very apt. I will dance to that.)

Graduation:

Avril Lavigne - Complicated (Cause you fall and you crawl?? NO! NO! NO!)

Life's Okay:

Bananarama - Venus (Yes, again this movie is going towards porn)

Death of a Close Friend:

REM - Everybody Hurts (Freaky. But true.)

Mental Breakdown:

Fat Boy Slim - Yamama (TOTALLY!! This Will be My Song if I ever have a breakdown)

Driving:

Elvis Presley - A little Less Conversation (Feat. JXL)

Flashback:

Sting - Brand New Day (WHOA FREAKY!!!)

Getting Back Together:

Jay-Z - 99 problems (but a bitch ain't none)

Wedding Scene:

Poets of the Fall - Carnival of Rust

Birth of Child:

Bally Sagoo - Gur Nalon Ishq Mitha (I can't believe I have that song)

Car Accident:

Gwen Stefanie - What you waiting for?

Final Battle

Will Smith - Getting Jiggy With It (Again, the final moral of the story will probably exude porn)

Death Scene:

Monty Python - I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts

Funeral Song:

Westlife - World of our Own (eki!!)

End Credits:

Queen - Its a kind of Magic (I think to make this flick soundtrack work it will take magic.)

For anyone who cared to see this... I think my life is brilliant.

I love my friends enough to take bullcrap from them. Even when it means I cannot tell someone what a completely supercilious twit he/she is, giving me the holier-than-thou act. Somehow I sense this deep sense of total insecurity in him/her that says that he/she is so unhappy to make his/her choice of path in life that he/she has to put up this front to think he/she is happy.

I feel sorry and that's why I let him/her get away with all that he/she says about me. Which is not nice, so as to tell.

Shows I have a holier-than-thou fixation too.

So well.

Back on track I guess.

I'm tired, awake, and terrified.


I cannot sleep. When I sleep my nightmares wake me.

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.


---------------------------------------- Pablo Neruda

These fragments I have shored against my ruins...

"Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?"

---------------Eliot.

I follow the light and darkness is never further from me. I live my life like a lovesick clown in a bittersweet cartoon. I merge myself in the darkened alleys where I search for sudden piercing screams that fragments the silence that now chillingly wraps itself around my soul.

And I ask myself what I have become. And I constantly feel the dread and the despair which folds my self up with this haze of pain and forgetfulness.

And all I need is to be free.

Well....

I get by with a little help from my friends.

It seems hard but I know that I won't be getting this set of friends who roam around in my mind all the time. I will miss them like hell when I stop looking after them, but life is not about making regrets. Its all about making these little memories... which cling like a silver foil, etching and beautifying.

I suddenly know that I am all right now. I may be a lot of things. But these moments... these memories keep me on. People will leave, but they will leave me with the memory that I will have of them. And in this fleeting life of mine that does not even matter mostly I shall have this... and I don't want any more right now.

Of Instilled Ideas

Some people are biased. Some people possess ideas. A friend of mine holds knowledge to be the ultimate key to find happiness. Another believes that intelligence is the best way to assess a human being.

I would like to take this opportunity to let people know that I have been familiar with extremely intelligent people, and have realized they are just as gullible and stupid as those who decided that intelligence was not their forte.

In some places, I have been called rough, crude and vulgar. In some other, stupid has been the order of my day. But I like the term obtuse. I like it because it can lead into so many different conclusions.

While I do not like passing judgments right and left, I do believe that some people make friends with the "Right", the "Intelligent", the "Cool" and the "Happening" and they refuse to see people who does not go with their formed opinions. I have met people who have judged (among others) me and dismissed, and I have taken real pleasure in making them re-analyze and revise their opinion about me. Gives me a perverse pleasure to see people who at first glance would turn away, turn back and smile or even hold their houses open for me to enter.

Somehow this is turning into a slightly bitter post. Its just that, I really hate people who boxes others up into tiny slots based on their race, sex, nationality, individuality, personality and colour.

mandy again...

1. what was the last thing you bought from woolies?

Whats Woolies?

2. what's your relationship status?

I have a life. And someone to call my own.


3. the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?

The person.

4. do you have a best friend of the opposite sex?

I do. Three.

5. do you keep in touch with ex's?

Totally. Love them, in fact.

6. favourite film?

Singin' In The Rain

7. play an instrument?

Taanpura according to the raga

8. favourite two bands?

Poets of the Fall and Grateful Dead.

9. favourite two artists?

Neil Gaiman and Goya

10. favourite artist?

Kon Khane mairi? Okay, this is easy. Sister.

11. tell us something that will surprise people about you.

I am stupid.

12. some things you wished you could do more with:

Life. More and More of it.

13. do you write?

yes. When I feel like it.

14. where would you like to live?

Near the beach. In a shack.

15. eye colour:

brown.

16. what did you think of school?

I loved mine.

17. anything you're trying to learn at the moment?

Yes. Salsa.

18. do you have a tattoo?

Yes.

19. what book are you reading at the moment?

After the Funeral. Agatha Christie

20. what are you listening to at the moment?

Days go by.


21. do you own any foreign language films?

Yes. Autumn Sonata.

21. how many languages do you speak?

English, Bengali, Hindi, Bhojpuri, and a bit of Spanish.

22. the last show you went to?

Don't remember. Okay. Onko.

23. favourite flower?

Roses


24. hugs or kisses?

Both. From right people.

25. icecream flavour?

Choco-mint.

26. who is the most famous person you've met?

Amartya Sen.


27. one hope for the year?

I should find what I am looking for.

28. the wisest thing you’ve ever heard?

Don't remember.

29. the last time you were drunk?

Last Christmas.

30. biggest hero?

Don't wanna tell.

31. favourite colour?

Black. And Red. And Blue.

32. things you hate?

So many.

33. something precious to you?

My friends.

34. a guilty pleasure?

Chocolates.

35. a piece of personal advice?

I loved a love once, fairest among all. You are not that.

Typecasts

Or people who are put in boxes.

So someone told me over lemon tarts last night. Black beans are supposed to be good for your health and eating a lean chicken breast everyday will decrease your weight. All this and more I learnt.

Andro called and we were going over the last months between the two of us. Somehow, these last months have flown by and I am officially in the fourth month of my work and have missed work for god knows how long but its okay because I am depressed anyway and its been a long day for me for quite some time now.

But what I realized was she's not changed a bit. But perhaps I have. I have changed myself and its been a continuous process for a while now. Its probably me growing up.

* * *

Someone asked me "Why are you not married?"

I answered, "Because I have found people I can live with, but no one I can live without."

It was an old quote. But I believe in it.


* * *

Randomness is perhaps the order of the day. Sometimes I wonder why is it so important to make things last and stretch beyond their limits. I was so angry a few days ago. I wrote a letter about it to friends, and I am putting up bits of it.

I watched as a guy threw his wife of 5 years out of the house while his girlfriend watched with a little smile on her face. And I had to talk to that frightened, hysterical, pathetic (yes, and i know its true, so there!) woman who took shelter with us for the night. My mother was thankfully not home. I hope this guy dies a most remarkable death one day, slowly and steadily, knowing every moment he is going to, and frightened of it. I can't think of a worse fate for him and i don't think i want to sully my thoughts by thinking of killing this fat, ugly monster. I do not care what she was to him or why he did what he did... but no woman deserves this. No Human Being to be precise.

But Do you know what she wanted? She wanted to beg her husband to come back to her. She could not believe that he was doing this to her but she wanted to beg to stay in that house, irrespective of the mistress. I was SO THANKFUL they do not have kids.

I somehow now feel quite detached about the whole incident. It has ceased to affect me. Now.

Elope with me Miss Private...

And then Chucky gave me a song that went around my head like crumbed chicken in a big vatful of lard. I have been fantasizing about KFC and its not good. I have been also fantasizing about big packets of sinful rich Valhrona which is kept with the Mother while she waits for me to get well from my sickness.

Damn it, I wish I was better already!