It's 4:14 in the morning and I am REALLY really really drunk. This is drunk blogging 2007, ladies and gentlemen, something I haven't done in a while, so if there are typos in this post, you must excuse me. Yeh Mera Deewanapan Hai is on the computer, from The Namesake, a song both Shark Tooth and I are tripping on right now. It was introduced to me for the first time by Deepti and Neel and another friend, and I remember one of the first times I was at their house, they played this song so many times the CD almost burnt out. I was with them all tonight, being in a funk-like state, so I drank a lot and said very little. Haiwaiian Shack is the place of my undoing, I realise, I was there last night with Chrisann and Sameer and I was just sitting around, minding my own business when suddenly, I burst into tears. Like, really burst. The two of them looked so bemused and embarrassed at my display of emotions, but they only patted my shoulder and looked so kind, it made me cry harder. And earlier tonight I was at Busaba, talking to Neel about boys and why I hate them, and I almost started to cry again. I'm turning into such a chick, I tell you.
The song has now changed to Tere Bin Nahin Lagda. I'm the DJ, this early morning, and you can clearly see my state of mind. I went to another party after Busaba, back in Bandra and made everyone come with me, something I'm feeling very guilty about now, because they all left in like half an hour, which means they only came to make me happy. Don't I have awesome friends? I do. Maybe it's the universe's way of compensating for my shitty relationship history. Volt was at this party, and he might even read this post, so I'm wondering how much my drunken inhibition will let me say. I can't say it. I tried. Let's just say I'm sado masochistic and in my friends opinions tomorrow morning, totally without dignity. Digless, as we used to say in boarding school. Isn't that a great phrase? I'm bringing it out of hiding. Use digless in a sentence today!
Now, it's Dooba dooba. I'm in a Hindi music phase today. Anon snarky commenters can suck my cock. Well, my metaphorical cock anyway. One assumes if I had a REAL cock, no one would pick on me so much anyway. Let's try and translate the song for my non-Hindi knowing readers. One line I like particularly translates into: No one knows, no one recognises, how this turned out this way, I drown, I drown in your eyes. Isn't it lovely? Why am I blogging so randomly I ask myself. It's a question that has no answers. Shortly I will disconnect and leave you with this evidence of the things I do when I'm drunk.
I think this is the right Mahiya. I'm using Shark Tooth's computer. No, it isn't. Let's find something suitably depressing. Ah, Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits. Am I enjoying my wallowing? A little bit. The funny thing about break ups is that you think of all your other lovers, ALL of them, the ones that read this, the ones that don't, the ones I still love somewhere in my heart, the ones I don't have anything to say to anymore. The sweet Indian boy from the USA who kissed me back home in Delhi when I was 17 and didn't try anything else, the first boyfriend, the ones I tried to love so much in Bombay and in Delhi who didn't want to be loved.
All I do is kiss you---through the bars of a rhyme.