Just when I thought HBO's 'Girls' was losing the plot, the fuckers brought in Shiri Appleby as a guest star. For those who have no clue what I'm on about, - "Girls" is a TV show about life in New York from the eyes of a few twenty year olds. I loved the first season but the second season was so far 'meh'. - Shiri Appleby played Liz on Roswell, one of my favourite TV shows from when I was in high school. The show wasn't all that great but it had great music (check out the soundtrack) on it (this was a time before One Tree Hill, The OC or Grey's Anatomy) and it was about aliens.
Here's a song I heard on Roswell, which incidentally also features Appleby in the video.
We live in really weird times. One of the first thoughts in my head, as I realize I'm headed for what looks like a break-up, is how I'll have to download break-up songs onto the iPod. Don't get me wrong - the situation is bad, but I'm also disgusted at knowing what I've turned into. A fast food-hogging, slow loading internet page of pop-culture references who has an mp3 (not song) up his sleeve for every fucken occasion.
Some habits, unlike hope, never leave us. While rushing out of her place, I see the neighbour's newspaper on his doormat. This is enough for the klepto in me. It's my copy now. The front page carries a full page ad about Vicco products. Suddenly, the song inside my head is "Vicco turmeric, nahin cosmetic.. Vicco turmeric ayurvedic cream." Have you ever tried making sense of a shitty situation while trying to shake off an iconic pre-liberalization ad jingle from the late eighties? I have.
Vicco turmeric. Fucken asswipe.
Cold Delhi morning in December. Waiting for an auto-rickshaw. In winters, these fuckers should be called "freezing death traps".
Bhaiyya, how much would you charge to kill me every second till JNU main gate?
Just till the main gate? You don't want to get killed till inside?
Hmm, sir.. ninety rupees.
What?! Yesterday someone killed me for just seventy. No, I won't pay ninety.
Yeah, something like that.
As the auto-driver picks up someone else, I realize I have stormed out in her chappals. The walk back to her flat is weird. I Go in. Change chappals. Storm out again. Only this time, there's no goodbye kiss.
Hopefully, we'll work things out. But this morning cannot be shittier.
So I'm smoking a cigarette alone at the entrance of Ozone, waiting for the others. Then I see this tween boy...skinny jeans, emo hair and all that..walking briskly and crying silently. I asked if he was okay, making sure my concern sounded genuine and not pedo-like. He looked at me and said in a very mumbled voice - "John Cena died."
Like an ass, I replied - "So?"
He just walked away.
Came home and checked. John Cena is still alive.
My first reaction was that of confused admiration. Did the tween just pull a fast one on the not-minding-his-own-business weirdo? If that did happen, I was actually impressed at his cheekiness and that too when something else had clearly made him upset.
Later, when I was discussing this with a friend online, a little more research burst my bubble. Apparently there was a facebook viral message claiming that Cena had died of some accident. (details - here) This social network influenced life can be really disturbing at times.
A lady friend, who had recently met a guy, asked me today - "How do you let a guy know that you want him to kiss you?"
It was nice to see her happy. A little clueless, but happy.
The thing is, I'm the last guy one should approach for "guy" advice. I pretty much suck at studying people's minds when it comes to heart shaped discussions. The gender does not matter. It does not make matters better or worse either. However, the latest bout of mushiness I had gone through (hopefully it's passed), made me indulge her as sincerely as it was possible by my standards.
All I could suggest was - "If I wanted a kiss, I'd have asked it plainly."
This was just another example of what a deep fucken hypocrite I am. I'd never ask a girl, would I? Chhee Chhee, what would she think?
But at least it got me thinking. (I think when I'm not working. No, seriously, a ghostwriter leaves his brain behind when working.) Why would anyone want that kiss? Is sucking face that important... right after you've had a nice time conversing with each other. Also, after hours of talking over cigarettes and joints, wouldn't you NOT want to share mouth space that smells of tobacco?
My dad, and later my mum, used to show me letters they used to write to each other. The topics they covered dealt more with which cousin eloped with which lover, who had how many beers after Kapil Dev ripped through the Australian line-up, how the cycle ride to the next village was better in the evening than in the morning... and such other gibberish, than with how much they loved or missed each other. Back then I used to wonder why anyone would talk such bullshit on a postcard. Later, I grew up and understood the necessity and charm of a good conversation. Forcing a bad joke on someone is not as cruel as forcing your obsession. (no matter how bad my jokes are.)
I don't know why the kiss is so important. If it's really that precious, can't we get over with it somewhere in the middle, say, when we're eating? This way, I could also taste what she's eating. (foodie high five? anyone?)
On a slightly depressing note, my friend and I figured out that we were both told by our respective dates that we'd soon meet and travel - "here, there, anywhere..".
Is this a new template I'm unaware of? Because, like a child, I believed her.
But I couldn't let my friend drift back to her cynical self.
I gave her some bullshit about how being cynical is like playing it safe - you won't be disappointed no matter what, in case things head south. We ended our chat by agreeing to be hopeful with a sense of humour.