Folks, what can I tell you
about my next guest?
This cat allowed himself
to be adored, but not loved.
And his success in show business
was matched by failure in his personal-relationship bag.
Now that’s where he really bombed.
And he came to believe that work,show business, love,
his whole life,even himself, and all that jazz, was bullshit.
He became numero uno game player, to the point where he didn’t know
where the games ended and reality began.
Like, to this cat, the only reality…
is death, man.
All that love. All that crazy rhythm.
All that jazz.
Three days in the hot tropical sun and one night of outright madness in the beach – I was tired.I could feel fluids stagnating and clotting all over the upper body ; part awake after a long thirteen hour half-naked sleep. Cursed myself for not getting milk – it was t minus twenty to reach office – and I’d made the tea very strong. The air-conditioner seemed to be blowing ice, it was chilling. I took a few sips standing outside in the sun and then drowned the elachi and tea in one gulp – something tickled and I ran to the wash.
It all came out. Washed my face saying ‘what the ‘. Then again it all came out – some of it colourless, some very colourful .Then again – and again. I could feel some great strain below the rib cage as if I was about to burst – the neck veins tightened. I was all anger – it was the other day builder and me prided on how healthy we were and here I am kneeling down there, my head in the basin ,arms clutching some support. It all cleared up in a while – as it always does.
I got out , lit a cigarette – time to run. I realized my hands were shaking uncontrollably, some emptiness and pain in the lower ab ,couldn’t smoke – I let go the lights. The sun was all yellow – everything was yellow .I could smell some ancient pain balm in my breath or was it amrutanjan balm – it was years since I touched that – some ancient smell from across years – oh it was amrutanjan,I’m sure. This cant be me, I’m not the one supposed to be sitting in this sofa defeated and spreadeagled. All light and empty and falling…naah…not me.
The living room is reeling, everything inside is clogged, face down on the leather I closed my eyes. I cant die now,God ,I cant. What about that big project I’m doing, oh I know its not big but still. But my career and all those things I’ve planned to do, those good times we were planning to have . See my family, all my friends what will happen to them, Oh I know life goes on but still. God I’ll change – I promise. I’ll sleep on time, probably quit smoking – no I’ll quit ,quit completely , I’ll eat well God, I wont swear , I wont be sarcastic all the time – fuck, gimme one chance, just one – no I wont swear again – I promise. Please God, I pray.
Its all dark, its grey. I hear the air-conditioner rumble.I’m very uncomfortable and heavy ,its humid. I’m sad. I’m not talking anymore.
The darkness cleared, its some light. My breath is normal. I’m just floating.I’m not sad anymore, not happy either. I’m comfortably numb. I’m dead.
And in that sleep of death,what dreams may come !
I cant do anything right.Nothing deep enough.Nothing funny enough.I look at a sunset,its so perfect. I look at her and ask- How did you do it,why cant I do it God. If I were God and once in a while I think I am – there wont be death, no one will die. But rest of the time I live in fear of all this ending and that dreadful possibility of mediocrity – that I might be ordinary not special.
Let me explain the ambience of the post , its two hours past midnight, outside its autumn – inside its the freezing chill of the ac -I’m sick and I suspect I’m dead, ‘jaanaki jaane‘ is repeating on the laptop – I’m too lazy to switch it off and I’m dead too. I’m reading something and watching tv too. Suddenly Fermina Daza with a mere wave of her arm ends all her enchantment with Florentino Ariza. I threw the book away. A movie is starting on tv . At the end of two long hours I’m rattled. I’m still confused why I havent seen ‘All that jazz’ before – this post is the movie itself.
I have a small question for you – Does God exist ?
If you are one of those blondes who smile and say
God is about loving others,
get the hell outta here – others stay.
Now,If your answer is yes
have you tried talking to him at least once in the past few years ?
I’m not talking about meditating or imagining a face or crying out ‘Holy dad’
when you see Jessica Alba on tv and ending the chat there.
I meant serious conversation
What language did you talk to God in ?