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4 days,16 hours and god knows how many extra sheets later my "saga of suffering" has finally ended. I had almost no sleep this week and yesterday I went to bed at 6pm and woke up at 11,tried to call the boyfriend who was dead by then.Plop repeat.I woke up this morning at 7am to a REALLY cold Calcutta.It has been snowing in places here where snowfall has never been recorded,ever and news tells us that our (almost) coastal city would be dipping to a 5 degree C.It's not much for those who are used to a white winter,but it would be the least temperature recorded if that ever happens.One word,or a sequence of numbers if you please - 2012.I'm a skeptic I suppose- but sometimes it's thrilling/scary.Sam,however has a morbid curiosity.
Oh btw did I mention my arm is killing me?Calcutta University,I hate you- you and your dark age paper patterns. Right now I think I'm at liberty to kick my dog(I take that back-almost),almost give my dad the finger if he comes yelling "lazy" and a be total slob for the next few days.And write blog posts in short forms.I am aggravated.Universe?Do you care? Give me a sign!Make a few geese cackle or something.
I was supposed to go to a school Re-union today, but bailed.For one,I haven't met most of them for years- and that should be enough impetus to actually turn up, but then I've met a few and it's like I 've gone in a different direction and we can't communicate anymore.I don't want to stand there all awkward twirling a drink mixer.Or worse still,drink too much.Ever feel that way? I have this weird contradictory nature where I do want to go as much as I don't.Somebody should write a book about me,hopefully it would be famous after the author dies and 100 years from now some poor ass would be killing him/herself analyzing my character in a CU exam.That's how bitter and random I am right now.
Anyway,expect to see me around your blogs next week onwards!
*FTLOB weekly prompt
Because version 1.0 just sounds so much cooler than Part 1.I might have mentioned in passing that I'm a student of English literature-my writing reflects none of that erudition and carefully cultured sophistication.Like the cavalier poets I'm probably of a new decadent genre called the "tramp writer".Bah.
So this week's been crazy.The syllabus in the third and concluding year is so much more vast and interesting as opposed to the incommodious time of completion .Thus we are left revering in the high imagination of the Romantics to questioning a diminutive self perception of Post Modernism in a matter of few hours.Lamb to The Last ride Together.Jimmy Porter's angst,chauvinism and anger.Toru Dutt's Casuarina tree.R.K Narayan's post colonial visions.Just in the day in the life of a Literature student.
