Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Living Single

I am home. Had slept at two the previous night and its nine pm already. Ati Scripting. Reading. problems to be solved. There are some loud noises..wait! That is my stomach. I shuffle my feet to the kitchen. There is a geographical feature there staring back at me; it is a mountain of unwashed dishes. Another day and I will have a zoo of unknown species of animals and plants. If I eat more fries I will pass cooking oil as urine. Can't stand the stuff anymore. Another tune from my stomach and I am thinking...not so fast. i can push the stuff down with a stick if I have to.

Moving down the stairs. There is a group of women doing aerobics. My residential building has a church, a gym, a butchery, a doctor's office and a pharmacy. I kid you not. Think about it. You can comfortably contract RV fever from the butcher's meat and just march in and have a doctor stick steel needles in your butt, point you to the pharmacy for some haze inducing chemicals without the necessity to go outside.
Walk around. There are policemen everywhere. With rifles. Why do those guys have to carry rifles? A country in peacetime and you see no less than forty ugly rifles a day. A totally irrelevant question. The fries do not want me today. All the places are closed.

Discovery pub is playing some genge. Very tempted but no. I don't do local these days. It is a self-preservation mechanism. I would drink every day. Back at my place. Switch on the TV. Switch it off. It is news again. This moron said this. This other moron said that. I would rather watch my toe nails grow. I pick my phone. A new number has recently checked in. Cousin to the memorable Hooters. SMSes having been flying lately. It is the itch. The itch to call or SMS. I want to. I do not want to. This never ends well, at least not with me. This is how numbers get deleted. It has reached that point where something has to give. I have to show a definite interest or let her walk. Confused. I have become wary of going past making a pass in a pub and having her sit down for a high-spirited, Tusker-fuelled talk.

Someone is knocking. Please go away!!! I don't say it. It is my neighbour, a young chap attending University (like Sam said, college and university are not the same thing in this country), who stays with his sister next door. Had some beautiful schemes for the sister....except she stays about 10 feet from my place. In any case, the thought of the guy punching my face while the sister performed crude surgery on my genitalia is not appealing. I digress. He thinks mine is a nice place to hang about, likes to take my movies, without my permission and return them seven months later, or not at all. Is there a heavy metal rod around? Ahh yes..only I would have to dismantle the steel door and i can't achieve that feat on an empty stomach.

He rushes to my PC. Boots up. Lots of text rushing down the screen Matrix style. PC is done booting. The Bloke stares at the screen for fifteen minutes straight waiting for control-alt-delete. Its SuSe Linux.
Whats up with your PC?
Nothing. Type root and root.
Hmmmm...looking for the start button..can't find it.
Where is grand theft auto?
There is no grand theft auto. swapped the hard disks. Had tried removing dlls earlier which ensured that no games could be played only for the guy to open solitaire and play into the early morning.
It must be in here somewhere. Ahh here it is. Show the guy an ascii file named 'Grand theft auto'. It won't start. He tries to look for solitaire. He gets stumped and finally leaves my computer alone.

I pick a book. Smiley's People by John L├ęCarre. Can't go past page one. Who are these guys? I have read all Ludlums, Clancies and Forsyths. There are no authors left.
There is a guy who used to constantly argue with his wife. Choice words, blue and rich. Why can't they start now? OK may be it should not. It never ends well for the woman. When the she verbally outguns him, I usually hear a sharp clap and the sound of things breaking. On occasion she would sit at the gate sobbing softly. Then the chap would walk down to beg her. Garbage. Does not make any sense.

Snatch! For the seventh time. Took the place of Frank Miller's Sin City real quick. Sit still dear stomach. Could not finish Donnie Brasco by the way. May be some other time. Time to sleep. Tomorrow might be more fun. Its Tuesday. There are always beautiful girls in the mathree. May be I could try and be like one 'Issey Miyake' and sit on one as I find my way to a seat.
Ohhh I am so sorry. These mathrees are so tiny getting into one is an exercise in contortionism. Anyway what's your name?

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