Ok, mid-day venting. My cousin Sunnanah called me in the morning and was really upset about "a boy". Which is fair, all of us get upset about "boys". I think its a part of growing up, and all of our relationships help us to define who we are, and more importantly – who we want to be. I don't, however, think it should take over our lives. In the larger scheme of things – there are SO many more important things to worry about – and I completely subscibe to my Mom's notion of "there is someone made for everyone." Fate. I know, (I KNOW Brandon/Audrey/Sam are sniggering, but its true) that its hard to accept it when things don't go our way. BUT – and this is where stoicism comes in very handy- the only thing we can control is how we feel and how we handle a situation. So, in retrospect, I've spent countless hours worrying about how someone else feels and how I can change the way that they feel and the way that they act. But I couldn't then, and I won't be able to now. I know it sounds all preachy – but Marcus Aurelius had it right – sanity is sacrosant. And sometimes, the only way to stay sane is to accept that there are things that are beyond our control. And there is no point in dwelling on them. Am I leading you to the understanding that there is a greater scheme in the works? No. I think my favourite (THAT IS THE WAY I SPELL IT BRANDON, DEAL WITH IT) quote from The Alchemist is "one hand writes all". Rishi will laugh, because I am constantly "spitting in the face of his religion" – (i eat burgers on Tuesdays, I dont pray enough, I'm incapable of making a roti) – but I think you can separate spirituality and religion. I'd like to think that self-development is an internal journey – and it can exist sans divine intervention. Not that divine intervention is a bad thing – right, I ramble. My point, and my vent – was that happy endings are infinately defined by what constitutes our happiness and where we see our endings – so, for Nanna – trust me, boys come and go – its really a question of how you circumvent the entire process of retrospection. I love you.

Ok, ok – these are MY 5 favourite (I went to British school, so sue me) songs (in no particular order) -

1. Spoonman – Soundgarden, Like A Stone – Audioslave

2. Shaam Se Aankh Mein – Jagjit (that's right, I said it), Jackson/Hurt – Johnny Cash

3. Bat Country – Avenged Sevenfold (what?!?!), Plush – Stone Temple Pilots

4. Mexico – Incubus, Vermillion 2 – Slipknot

5. All Hail the Heartbreaker – The Spill Canvas

 See, I do have "taste" in music.

So Brandon called me at around 4am last night (the concept of "time-difference" is painfully lost on him) and was pretty much hysterical. Well, about as hysterical as Brandon can get – he's not a big talker. But I could tell he was really upset, so I hoisted myself out of bed and told him "it was alright that he had woken me up, whats decimated sleep between friends anyways." Again, sarcasm lost over the scream of dementia. So the issue, the HUGE, "icantwaittilltomorrowmorning" problem was this – Limp Bizkits Nookie has been voted the lamest song of all time. Or of the year. Either way – I was less than impressed and really, really questioning my reasons for NOT turning my phone off at night (Isha, I leave it on for YOU – do you see how I suffer in the same of our friendship?). Yeah, so Nookie is apparently the lamest song of all time. In Brandon's defense (I can't believe I am doing this) – he's been the biggest LB fan for as long as I can remember – and it was pretty much staple to expect to hear Nookie everytime we were in his car, or on his bike. Ok. This is the same kid who looked like he was going to asphyxiate me because I yelled "Freebird!" during a LB concert (that was being televised live in Singapore, please – it was ON TV). Right – so this is why I am tired and a little grouchy today. And why I'm, probably going to trip and fall when we go salsa dancing tonight. Anyways – I would love to put up a list of songs that I think are WAY lamer than Nookie – although, to be fair – thats a pretty horrendous song as well. Love you, Brandon.   

Rishi and I had a major bonding brother-sister day today. We did the whole Borders/Indochine route, which was really nice. We ended the day by going for a swim – well, it waws much more of a float. Neither of us are "laps" kind of people. So, I'm trying my best to tell him about this (fascinating) documentary I had recently watched about how it was better to give birth to babies in water, because apparently all babies can swim at birth. Wrong person, wrong conversation. He looked at me incredibly condesendingly (clearly Audrey has been spending time with my little brother) and said – so if I threw a baby in a pool, it would swim? I should have said – why would you EVER throw a baby into a pool. But instead I said – no, I think they can kind of make their way through the water, but they can't come to the surface for air. So he bursts out laughing and says – so, essentially, what you're saying is that babies, like most of us, can struggle in water. I guess I deserved that one.

Before I am disembowelled by a Gucci pump – Audrey is NOT five years older than me, she is four and a half years older than me. (Although, if that’s the only thing that a)offended her b)caught her attention in that passage, we should consider relegating her reading/comprehension skill-set level down to pre-comatose.)

Also, because Isha made a SPECIAL request – I’m going to list the top 5 reasons that I am going to London. Just for you.

5. It’s London

4. Isha/Aurelie are there.

3. I need a holiday. And I feel an irrepressible urge to wear a beanie.

2. Travel is the basic building block of integrity (right? right?)

1.. Because I COULD be going to Bangkok, but I enjoy pissing Karan off.

Oh, and Neha is going to be in India, so that’s my entire social life eradicated in a four hour flight. Plus, I want pictures of me NOT on orchard/at Indochine/Soundbar/Coco Latte (why, the HORROR)/Neha’s pool/the Marriot/any MRT station (yes Ish, I do take MRT, no I do not need a special permit).

I want to learn to salsa. Properly.

“Love is so short, forgetting is so long” 

You catch me at the strangest moments. When I’m brushing my teeth before going to bed, or mid-laugh at the Hill. Nothing really reminds me of you – not even the things that should. You are absent when I’m dancing, I am alone when I am lying in bed – you do not strike me when I am running, (red shorts, no socks) through the Gardens. It’s as if I am forgoing the pain of remembering you, by selectively forgetting you. And in selectively remembering you – I’m caught too off-guard to really punctuate the thought with any grief. Its all the small blessings I guess.

I don't fully understand why it seems crushingly obvious to everyone but me that Truman Capote was more than a slightly imbalanced individual. I read In Cold Blood after Rishi gushed about it (and trust me, Rishi does not gush. He flippantly insults, he does not gush) to me for about a week, before leaving it on my bed for me to peruse. I enjoyed it. There was a macabre honesty that you just don't see in literature today – an immoral slant to what should have been an incredibly black and white story. Capote managed to romanticize two immensely immoral men to the point of victimizing them. Perry Smith and Richard Hicock were crazy. I mean that. And I'm all for a good horror story every now and then – but the precision and complete lack of passion present in either of them was almost more disturbing than the crimes they committed. It's one thing to pass judgement on two men who walk into someones home and blow their heads off. Thats easy. Condemnation in the absence of personification is not a stretch of the imagination. It's the humanization that Capote puts us through – hearing their conversations, knowing their fears, seeing the world through their eyes that taints a complete disavowal of them. The more you read In Cold Blood, the more you feel that Capote either identifies with something, especially in Perry Smith, or he kinda sorta understands him. Either is terrifying. Because its easy to see how it could happen. So what makes us so different from him, and by inference – from them? If an act of complete violence is met not with unadulterated hatred, but with a starry eyed character study, how much is the crime undermined? The thing is – its all just very human. I dont think Capote was completely unhinged BECAUSE he was affected by the humanity he saw in Smith. I think everyone has their insecurities and doubts – and they bubbled to the surface when he tried to juxtapose the man who killed four people in Kansas, to the quiet dreamer he met in a jail cell. A part of him wanted to believe that there was something more, or something less to him. I dont know – I think its natural, to want to draw some semblance of rationality from any irrational experience, because at the end of the day, all that anyone wants is to be able to understand what is going on around them. So was Capote insane – I dont know. I just didnt think he was based solely on In Cold Blood.  

I had the most wonderfully condescending conversation with Audrey last night. I was on the receiving end of all the down-talking ofcourse, because I'm the one who predicts the future using "a random pack of cards that I picked up from MPH. Not even Borders (because for some reason, that would have given my tarot reading more validity), no no – from MPH (the bastion of poor quality reading, btw)". Audrey, on the other hand, works for O&M, is five years older than me (and consequentially much wiser – which is another issue altogether), has never subjected herself to "permanent body art" (your massage lady thought it was a CHICKEN, Neha) or (I'd love to see what parts of that stretch out when you're pregnant), doesn't think that animal-testing is wrong (so what if Loreal is buying up the Body Shop – animals dont have souls, haven't you read the Life of Pi ((which I did, incidentally – it says zoo animals don't have rights, it says nothing about killing rabbits to make lipstick)), you are SUCH an irredeemable romantic) and, most importantly – she's a Virgo. This is catastrophic to our relationship. You can't put a Gemini and a Virgo in a room together (or over telephonic waves as the case was) and expect them to agree on anything. Anything. By the way, all this started because she started singing that horrible Daniel Pewter "had a bad day" song and I offered her both my I-tunes library (there are better ways to sing a bad day to rest – Twisted Transistor, Vermillion 2, When Worlds Collide – the Poweman 5000 version) and a tarot reading. I said we could "center" her and really "define her issues". She flipped out in her sophisticated advertising way and said I was too dependant on "false probabilities". I think she also booked me an hour with her very expensive (very attractive) shrink. Which I would enjoy, for entirely non "attaining mental stability" reasons. So, all in all, a relatively pointless, accusatory, judgmental conversation. It was like a micro-cosm celebrity death match between a Rumi mystic and an investment banker. And she says animals dont have a soul. By the way, and because she will read this by this afternoon – I did pull cards for you, you got The Chariot, the Queen of Swords and the Eight of Cups. Go figure.

I want to stay inside, I want to stay inside for good (Brandon Boyd having post-Morning View issues, considering the quality of A Crow Left of the Murder, I'm not really surprised, although Agoraphobia and Megalomaniac are pretty good songs, all considered.)

Another really good band that doesn't seem to get much airplay here is The Spill Canvas - All Hail the Heartbreaker, Black Dresses, Sunsets and Car Crashes. 

"I'll let you get the best of me
Because there's nothing else that I do well
I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
I guess that's how this one's gonna go I'll be the giver and you'll be the taker
You've got me down on my knees and I proclaim
All hail the heartbreaker"

Also (and since we're on the subject of random music) – I really like Thirsty Merc. Or, as I like to call them - "I wonder how bored Kelvin must have been to send me every single one of their songs." They have some really unusual hooks – Emancipate Myself, Undivided Love, My Completeness.

So there was this sweet old lady walking past the office today, and I swear to God her shirt read, and I quote – protect your nuts. I wasn't quite she knew exactly what her shirt said, or just how funny I was finding it. She looked at me like she thought I was having an epileptic fit, it was overarchingly amusing. I guess you had to be there.

ALSO – I really want to go salsa dancing tonight, but its raining – and it looks like Mihika is still in the office. So, that might not work out. My latest addiction, along with tarot reading and blogging apparently. I'm a Gemini, give me a month, I'll be skate-boarding and listening to Metallica, ACDC and Alice in Chains again.

Firstly, I need to appologise to Karan. For two things – first of all for writing only (and I quote) about "sad things" – when the world is so obviously full of all the wonderful, joyous, miracle-type of situations which I should be enjoying. But, in my defense – and as Neha and I like to say (especially when we're spending a Friday night NEAR Emerald Hill, on the steps of the Australian school – that's right, NEAR) – Happy don't rhyme with nothing. Which is incredibly redundant, because a) I dont write in rhyme (only iambic pentameter, the occasion haiku, the odd limerick maybe) and b) snappy, crappy, nappy, flappy (although where you would use flappy in a poem I'd like to know). Right – so I'm supposed to write happy poetry, for Karan, which I will try to do. I also need to appologise for not going to Bangkok. Despite promising to go. Despite the fact that it is a LOT closer to me than London. And despite the fact that we have had a series of dibilitatingly alcohol-based long weekends that could have easily been spent (debilitated by alcohol) in Thailand. In my defense (I'm good at this, I know), the whole Thaksin (or Thaskin, according to Neha) thing worried me. And I'm not good with short flights. They seem so ethereal. But loving Karan is not the issue. Did you hear that Karan – loving you is NOT the issue. So a trip will be planned soon, very soon. And we can MBK and Cinebon and all that good stuff. Oh, and I am learning how to read Tarot, so I can predict your future. Here, let me try – "You're going to come to Singapore to visit Neha because it makes her life a lot easier/guilt-free." I'm really good. Honest.

Hoshwalon ko khabar kya – bekhudi kya cheez hai.

Its hindi Ish, go look it up Can't wait till London!