Livinghigh: Who wants to live like a virgin?
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 5:45 PM /



Who wants to live like a virgin?

Documenting a crazy, zany life is not as easy as you think. It's hard. Getting the right touch, the right mood, the right way to start and the right way to end, the right kind of incidents to recount and the right kind of moods to capture - the right kind of moods to capture you, rather. On top of that, explaining what a blog to all those people you knew two years back in college is tiresome, to say the least. It grates on your neveres. Hey, have you popped up by my blog? What the hell is that, transmitted through empty eyes, still held togther by a dumb smile. Never mind. How's the weather?

Ho hum. Fee fo fum.

Thinking about that enigma called living high. Thinking about what fuels it. Laziness, perhaps? Had a brilliant plan today of finishing work early and going down via train to Colaba for some amateur exploration. Planned on walking down the causeway (I've always been a snob and been in a cab there), planned on ducking into Mondy's for an early-evening vial of poison, planned on strolling by the ocean front, planned on sitting on my haunches and leafing through second-hand books, but hell, never did any of that. Took the excuse of a forgotten phonecall and neglected to get my lazy ass off the cushion-backed chair, and so here I am, sprawled like a sales department clerk, punching keys in a computer. Hope that the secret of living high can be found in the cradle of 80's pop songs, but a lot of people tell me that the period was not exactly known for its sheer genius.

Damn. At least, it produced Madonna. (goofy smile now, as I admit I loved Like a Virgin.)

Never mind. I shall go on my Colaba road trip another day. Margaret Mitchell's almost famous almost-last lines. Tomorrow is another day. There shall be a Colaba trip, and a ferry ride to Elephanta, and a walk down to Lalbaug, and a jaunt through Fort (I barely remember the place now)... yes, yes, I assuage myself, there shall be all that and more. If walking around is the secret of living high, then you shall have two bloody painful legs!

Damn. Double-edged sword, methinks.



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