I spent last Thursday drinking with Sunder. A good friend. One of the best.
And then, I slept and woke up sometime during the day to find that my Internet connection has mysteriously disappeared.
Intrigued, I called up the service provider and they wouldn't give me any details because the account was registered under the name of a friend.
So I called them back again and masquaraded as my friend, complete with make-believe accent, and got the information I needed.
I found myself hailing a cab outside my apartment, where one stopped and asked me, "Where ayou going?"
Cabbie: Will it be jammed?
Me: Er...I don't know?
C: Then you can't get in. If you don't know, you can't get in.
Apparently, to ride in some cabs, you need to be clairvoyant.
Anyway, got to Midvalley, settled the bills, which apparently was not the issue. The account was never suspended. It was mechanical in nature.
Got home, then got a call to join some friends for some halal drinks. I acquiesed and within minutes, was trying my best not to stare at a pair of jiggling breasts.
It was quite uncomfortable. I was looking up and doing my utmost to focus on the lips of the owner of said dirtypillows, and awkwardly finding out that big, jelly-like knockers are like black holes with a strong pull from which no light can escape.
There were conversations that were had, but my mind carries with it the singular image of the singular pair of boobs.
There was something about mythology or some sort, and also the issue of writer's block. I had experienced that when I no longer want to service the ego, or feed into any sort of insecurity, I couldn't write that much.
It was before I realised that I can shift my intention and focus from the self and the 'needy, greedy little mes' and write with other intentions that do not necessarily have anything to do with emotion - and actually function on some level, serving another purpose - that I managed to break the dam again.
After that, it was back at home, watching some stuff I had gotten from some friends.
I was still having problems with the Internet connection and after some rebooting and replacing the SIM card in its holder, managed to get online again.
It was then that I decided to write about religion and mythology, based on what I knew and what I was taught. It was a strange compulsion. In the past, I have always been bothered by religion and how it turns people into emotional and such egotistical creatures. I intend to remain Vulcan. And then, sleep.
On Saturday, I awoke finding my cigarettes finished and that I had no food. And so, I slept.
I woke up to a phone call from a dfriend who wished to take me to an open house of sorts.
After weighing my options, I went, and spent six hours eating and drinking. Went home and watched more media files on my TV, as well as some rather pornographic material.
I went to the office on Sunday, and am now back home.
There is no lesson here. No motive. I just spent a few days meandering about, all the while overseeing some writing projects.
I look forward to the rest of the week. There are some things that need doing, some things to write, and some things to bite.
Oh well. Such is the life of a Boron.