SNATCHES

So I've got mint tea, green tea lemon flavored, Assam tea, English breakfast tea... what'll you have?
Er.. I don't know. What're you taking?
Coffee.
Oh. /: I
I don't like tea at all.
I see.
Therefore I foist it upon my unfortunate guests. :)
You could try not buying any?
Ah! That never works, does it? Fucking advertisements.
Ah! So true.
Well?
Well what?
What'll you have?
Coffee, if that's okay.
Nope. Not okay.
Heh?
I need to finish off all this tea and stuff before the packers and movers come to dismantle my life. Drink tea!
Fine, I'll go with the Assam. :x ...So you really are leaving, huh?
Yep.... You thought I wouldn't go through with it?
Well, no. But I hoped you wouldn't.
So did I you know.
You hoped you wouldn't leave?
Yes.
But you don't have to hope! It's your decision, right?
Yes. But decisions just get made, don't they?
I suppose so.... Like my tea.
Yes, like your tea.

ARTIST

I look into the blackness of the gulf that separates you from me. My abyss. Your entertainment. My life. My loss. My tragedy. My pleasure. My joy. My indescribable love and unfathomable hate. 

I pull threads, out, out, out of me and mine, and tie knots for you to see and applaud and I bask in the unrelenting light of adulation, that the mutations of my privacy give to me.

My twisted knots are my joy and my pain. To see them pulls you into a world of extremes lost to you - into betrayal and misery that you'd rather not have, but want in a story anyway. My twisted tales and futile ramblings are yours. Enjoy them. I know I do.

WAITING -The Deconstruction of G - Part #no

G loved times spent in waiting - waiting for airplanes topped the list, followed by waiting for the destination, waiting on a wooden bench watching the rain and reading a Maugham, waiting for steamy spicy pasta after running into a bistro from the windy outdoors, waiting for a blissful cup of coffee amid the wafting tantalizing scents, for a cool draught of beer, for the first light, for the pink dusk, for the velvet night, for the deep poignant darkness of 3 a.m. Waiting was the most beautiful, the most charming, the most benevolent of times, and G was waiting.

For Godot? Maybe. 

But the wait is worth the wait.

:)

CHOICE - The Deconstruction of G - Part #no

For months now G had wrapped herself in a life whose ultimate purpose was the fulfillment of the bare existential necessities of each moment. G had always imagined that such a bland and banal routine would have inundated her with a flood of the daily misery of regularity and the further misery of quotidian tragedies - sticky hair that a comb despairs of, tearing a button, finding always one of pair be it socks or earrings, stepping in a puddle, missing a bus - so on and so forth - things that require us to be heroes daily. 

But, the Year (well, almost) of the Quotidian Tragedy, as G had christened the era of her foray into the mundane, was surprisingly, less like an annoying toothache that has you shaking fists at the universe and cussing at Creation every five seconds; and more like a warm fuzzy blanket that dulls you into slumber and slyly fools you into hitting Snooze every time your much maligned alarm clock attempts to wake you; which of course, would lead you to sticky hair, tearing a button, finding one of a pair, stepping in a puddle, missing the bus...

Oh! But that warm fuzzy blanket!

:)