Livinghigh: Almost there

Living HIGH

It doesn't take hydrogen gas. Or riding a shuttle.
Or snorting on the whitest, finest powder this side of La-la-land.
(It might take an extra spoonful of sugar, but maybe that's just me.)

PHOTOblog

Say hello, shutterbug
Pixelated livingHIGH

Storyteller

Fiction, I write
The Gabbles

Creative Commons License

Daily Toon Click to enlarge

Cartoons by Andertoons

The Chain

Broadcast Bitches
Post a Secret Picture
Gee, baby!
Akshay
August, English August
Neha New
Truman Times
Stop the Presses!
Viewing 360 Degress
Coffee on the House
Casablanca
Jups Juice
Cow lickin' Stuff
Que Sarah Sarah
New Age Sarah
Anti-Darth Vadar
The Traveler
Progga and the Mambo

Scrapbook

January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
January 2008
February 2008

Once Upon A Time

Some more funky stuff from mua
Some of the more sensible stuff - same guy

Get Informed

Bombay Blast!
Identity Theory
The Guardian
Classical Mythology
The Onion - seriously fun
The Hoot

Signatures

...Who're you?

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Almost there

I have almost stopped bitching about my life. I have almost stopped wishing for vodka shots to dull the pain of boredom. I have almost become a better man. The operative word here is 'almost'.

But there's a new story on the block. It's called An Important Night, and it's posted on Gabbles. The customary excerpt is as follows:

Abhi sipped on his double vodka and smiled at Irfaan's busy back. He's pretty cute, and maybe he was coming on to me. Was he...? He laughed then, and took another drink. I'm so frikkin' strange I keep on imagining men are coming onto me, when they'd probably want to keep me at arms' length first thing, if they find out I'm gay, he laughed - pathetic! He turned to see that Chandni was apparently having a whale of a time, and Deb was making bull-faces at her with his index fingers, while she pretended to be some virtuous (?) Italian Madonna-cum-matador. On a wildly vindictive level, he wished with all his might that Mr and Mrs Chatterjee would suddenly appear out of thin air to see their daughter in the act - maybe the old fart would get a heart attack, he grinned - and was disappointed to see that God had denied him special powers. Or maybe, he had given him those special powers after all: Abhi grinned to himself, as a smiling Irfaan came back to him, after delivering the martini.

Nothing much new on the horizon. I have been devouring TOI from cover to cover, and ET too for that matter, and have come to the insane conclusion that I actually like TOI better than either The Statesman or The Telegraph, the two institutional newspapers here in Calcutta. I'm a newfound convert. I wonder if that means the Jains will give me a hyper-paying job with a lot of glamour and a lot of fame and an instant book contract with Penguin or Picador. I'm not holding in my breath in hope, though. A little birdie twitters in my ears, that my time will definitely come soon enough... hehehehe.

Adios, nonexistant adoring public.

0 Comments: