It's been a bad couple of weeks for blogging. Nothing of monumental interest has happened, except that I spent some time sick and that's only of monumental interest to me. And we went to this place in Vasant Vihar yesterday, being The Cousin's last night in town and all, called Haze. It looked pretty shady from the outside--a brightly coloured sign with parasols and palm trees on it but the walk up had some nice old movie posters--tasteful ones too, not the Samantha Fox variety. There was this blues band playing, only I don't think they were really playing the blues, it sounded like what I imagine acid jazz must sound like, but I could be totally off because I've never really listened to any acid jazz and have someone tell me, "THIS is acid jazz."
Anyway. After the blues band there was this other rock band from Shillong and there was this woman playing the guitar and dude, I totally wanted to be her. Really. She had this Avril Lavigne thing going on and an excellent smoky voice and she played the guitar. I could be a rock chick too. I could wear loads of silver rings and raccoon-type makeup and leather wristlets and sing smokily and thin bottomed. Only nooooooooooooo I have to have a respectable job. (Though I'm not sure there's much respectability left in journalism anymore.)
We sat on the floor, because there wasn't place anywhere else and it was quite cozy. our backs up against the wall, listening to this woman sing about love and betrayal and chat with Samar's friend from Italy. He told me all about Naples and about his Italian girlfriend and then I asked him to teach me some Italian and he said, "Sure, what do you want to learn?" and all I could think of was "What time is it?" which he taught me and which I have now promptly forgotten. (But it worries me that I've become the sort of person who asks how to say "What time is it?" I mean, hello, I should be asking how to say "I love you" or "You're sensational" not "What time is it?" It's not even like I'm such a punctual person either. What kind of person asks how to say "What time is it?" in one of the world's most romantic languages? The kind of person who KNOWS they're never getting any for the rest of their lives, that's who.) Never mind. Samar tells me I'll be seeing a lot more of him in the weeks to come.
The illness has more or less gone but it has left me with a strange aversion to the idea of alcohol, sex and cigarettes. Now alcohol I can do without for some time, even though it'll be quite boring, the idea of any sex in my life is now entering the realm of the absurd, but please, please whoever's in charge, don't make me lost the cigarettes? Please? I've tried smoking a few but they taste really wierd--of old tea leaves and dried grass and all sorts of unpleasant things. But water tastes sweet.
*Sigh* See, now you know I'm not really as exciting and entertaining as I'd like for you to believe. And I'm definitely going to die alone eaten by alsations. But I try to have a good time till then and that's all I'm going for right now--a good time.