Two really good stories--well, I thought so anyway

My new all-time favourite song is The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson. At the risk of sounding impossibly mushy I think this is THE song to sum up my relationship. (Okay, okay, so it's generic enough to sum up any relationship but I feel particularly fond of it so I book it first!)

STORY ONE:

I'm in Delhi right now curling my sock feet in the winter sunshine. Life is (mostly) good. I went to the Jaipur lit fest, standing down on my ego and going uninvited, but I'm glad I did. Going to a lit fest as a random schmoozer as opposed to having to sing for your supper is so much better. And, boy, did I schmooze. I met people I should've normally been all awe-ful around, as a backslapping equal, drunk some vodka, listened to some interesting sessions and (dun dun dun dun) found out that ASHIS NANDY reads my blog! Yup, the little ol' frivolous Compulsive Confessor appears to have some not so frivolous fans. He said, "It's the sort of blog people can't help reading over and over again, even if they don't want to." Dudes, I died. (Of course, the first thing eM said upon recovering her breath was, "I'm SO going to blog about this." Heh. I liked that man.)

STORY TWO

So, a couple of weeks ago, Akshay and I go to this gay party at Pause. It was excellent fun--1200 bucks all you can drink--and I walked around feeling as though I could've taken my top off and have no one even react. Very liberating. Anyway, so we're holding up the walls and watching people dance and suddenly this very pretty girl comes over to us and is all over Akshay. I figure she's one of the hot fag hags I've noticed everywhere and smile slyly into my drink as I watch them flirt. Akshay doesn't seem to be responding to my nudging, he throws me a helpless look and goes off to get drinks while Hot Chick and I chat and I am the perfect wingman. "He is SO cute," says the Hot Chick. "He's single," I say, grinning even more broadly and she laughs and sort of teeters (she's very drunk and leaning on me quite heavily at this point) and says, "That's my boyfriend," pointing to a guy in a sleeveless shirt, with thick mascara and glittery armbands.

"Oh, I thought he was gay," I say, feeling a little bit puzzled. She looks puzzled too. "So am I," she says and I'm thinking, "Okay, she's lesbian, they're having a relationship of convenience so their parents don't find out." And THEN she pulls her top down and flashes me with... her perfectly flat nipple pierced chest. And I'm still going, "Huh?" and then my brain and my mouth together go, "Ohhhhhhh... you're a MAN." And then I start laughing because I think of how fooled Akshay will be but then he comes back and I whisper it to him and he looks at me as if I'm an idiot and goes, "Yes, I know, now will you please stop playing wingman?" The Hot Chick--well, you know, whatever--appears in the now switched on lights and I can now make out the stubble and the Adam's apple and I am amazed and feeling kinda stupid. Never mind, one needs a first encounter to properly handle the second.

NOT A STORY BUT AN INTERESTING NOTE:

I'm doing a reading on the 1st, that's Sunday, at Causarina Hall at the Habitat Centre from 6.30 to 8.30. I'll read from the book, there'll be a sort of discussion and then tea. Come if you can, it's open to all. It's being organised by the awesome FriendsOfBooks which is such a fantastic idea for a website.

And that's all.

Coz I.. I.. love the way you say good morning

And you take me the way I am

Things not big enough for individual posts but amuse me anway

* When I'm bored, I daydream. Today, I had an excellent dream--sometime around ten this morning--about a new and improved rickshaw system. Basically, you go to a pole, with buttons on it--saying rickshaw or taxi or bus. You press the button and within minutes, an automated rickshaw comes to you. You enter your co-ordinates, the GPRS is configured with Google Maps and it takes you where you want to go. Also, as I lay awake thinking about it, I figured out the payment could be a sort of debit card system. You put in, say, Rs 2,000 into your public transport account, and give your fingerprints. Each rickshaw or taxi has a fingerprint panel and when you put yours on it, it deducts the fare from your account. AND, if you use the system enough, you'd have a 'Favourites' panel which means you don't have to enter the address again and again. You could just press 'Home' or 'Zenzi' or 'Friend's House' and it would take you there. I'm a genius.

* I have INJURIES, speaking of rickshaws, those Fiends Of Death. The other day, I was in one, going to a party and the driver was insane and we almost died five hundred times and then he braked really suddenly and I got thrown forward and my shin hit the barrier thing and the pain was so intense, I thought I was going to die. Now it's scabby and I have to shave my leg around it and it hurts to touch and meh.

* I am quite the globetrotter this next month and a half. First to Delhi to pay homage to several people. Then back here, briefly and then.. the UK! So exciting. Only I haven't gotten my ticket and visa stuff done yet, and JC's all relaaaaaaaaaax, it'll be okay and if it was possible to smack someone on the head through MSN, I would do it. The thing is, we planned to be together on Valentine's Day which is less than a month away and we planned for me NOT to be jetlagged on Valentine's Day, which means the latest I should aim to reach is the 11th. Sigh. Hyperventilation type things are happening. Although since I plan to be there for about three weeks, I'm fully going to hit all the Famous People's Houses--Austen, Shakespeare, Freud--anyone else you can think of? I've only been to England once before, when I was nineteen, and only for a couple of days, but my sustaining memories include GREYCOLDWET. I've got my fingers crossed for global warming. I'm so used to living in a tropical city now, that this 33/18 degree weather we're having now, makes me carry a stole around and use a light quilt at night. I've become such a wuss, I embarrass myself.

* This long distance thing sucks in many ways but my silver lining is that I seem to have lost weight. My friend came up with a theory about "sex weight"-- basically if you're having regular sex, you become more filled out and so on, something about the hormones. I thought people who had regular sex lost weight because of the exercise. On the other hand, I did grow an ass during my relationship and now I fill out the back of my jeans, which is nice. Does sex weight exist? Weigh in (heh) in the comments section.

*Chrisann's wedding was uber fun. Ira and I went to the church ceremony together and then rushed back home to change for the reception. The bride looked beautiful, the food and music was awesome, AND Ira caught the bouquet! Heh. They just got back from the 'moon in Bali and I'm looking forward to seeing them tonight at Vie. Friends weddings have become so normal for me now, I feel a little old.

Okay now my hunger takes over and I'm going to do some vegging in front of the TV. Have a good weekend!

Last night I dreamt of San Pedroooooooooooo*

* yes, I AM singing Madonna. I've got it bad.

Goa was so, so awesome. I have returned, the colour of a nice, ripe coconut (as opposed to the milk coffee colour I had earlier thanks to too many days of staring at the computer and too many nights of drinking till the wee sma's). I'm also very proudly displaying to anyone who will look, a very very faint bikini line--just in case, you know, anyone didn't know I went off on a fabulous beach holiday.



Well, duh, of course there were ointment-flies. No ointment is complete without ointment flies, no? Firstly, I missed JC a whole big lot. Like missed him missed him. Like oh-my-god-I've-just-broken-up-with-someone missed him. Only, we spoke every day and I tried to be on MSN at least for 15 minutes so we could chat so I wasn't broken up but it felt like I was without someone I loved and it was a really, really weird feeling. If I have to describe it (and it's hard to get it into words, but hey, that is my job after all) I'd say it was like being homesick for someone. Yeah, pretty much that. Also, being on my own in Goa and yet not single, was a very new thing. I was with my friend Ira, who IS single and was having a fabulous time getting her mojo on and moonlit walks on the beach and so on, and I was the one reading or looking into the distance or holding the handbags (so as not to be a kabab mein haddi, you know, good friend etc) I haven't been the handbag holder in a while.



But while it sucked to be in a romantic location without the Romantic Object, it was also kinda nice to have so much time to myself. I got to think a lot, and feel a lot and I even got an idea for my new book (yay) and I shopped and made some new friends and caught up with some old ones and it was all very peaceful. (And boring, I can hear some of you mutter under your breaths, but it wasn't, not really. I swum, I read, I partied. I just did it solo or with Ira as opposed to with a bunch of Holiday Flings.)



Ira and I are FANTASTIC travel companions, by the way. She was Thelma to my Louise, Charlie's Angel to my Charlie's Angel, Ya Ya sister to my Ya Ya sister, something else to my something (I'm running out of great women partner movies here). She let me READ. And in that sentence is all you need to know about a great travel buddy.



And Anjuna beach was possibly the best beach choice ever. *self back pat* Not only does it offer crazy beach parties (and yes, they still happened) but also, should you choose--quiet little shacks to park yourself at all day and just drink your fruity cocktails. Plus, it was remarkably free of annoying Indian Family Patriachs--you know the type, they look you up and down and make loud remarks and have sticky children everywhere and swim in their VIP underwear.



We did get a particularly creepy cab driver on New Year's Eve though as we went back to the hotel, who implied that since we had been in mixed company he should be able to "enjoy" with us also. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. I was so speechless and shocked and SCARED, I didn't know what to say. We were in the middle of nowhere, if we had stopped we'd have had no other transport options. Very not nice though. I hope it's not an indication about how the rest of the year will go.

I actually didn't get very drunk--ooh except this one night, after we met some Brit girls by the pool at our hotel and then we went out with two of them at night and it turned into one of the most random-but most fun--evenings I've had in a while. Highlights include me tentatively poking a silicone breast and then my own to see what the fake ones felt like. (NB: Spongy) Of course, hangover from hell the next morning PLUS a bad stomach PLUS (of all the terrible timing) my period arriving meant I spent the next day a little less like a frisky Disney rabbit.

The Anjuna Flea Market was great fun also. They've stopped the Ingo's Night Market, which is a bummer, but we did get our shopping did. Or at least I did. I went a little insane with silver jewellery. I even bought JC a ring, a thick silver one with a rotating band inset into it so you can twist it when you feel like fiddling with something. And I got me a turquoise and coral ring which is all huge and chunky and makes up for my old rings which I lost and which I still miss.

And then we came back and THEN it was Chrisann's wedding, which is a story for another post.