Livinghigh: 'The Fosters' three-pack, please...'
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Livinghigh was here at 4:56 PM /

'The Fosters' three-pack, please...'

I went to Mondy's yesterday in a little flat-mates' bonding session that spilled over from coursing through second-hand books on the pavements at Fort. Dinner was supposed to follow at Bade Miyaan's, but due to excessive human traffic, we decided on Baghdadi next door. Though I was keen on Polly Esther after that, my flatmate had no interest in being gay with me. ;-)

But Mondy's was a great experience. And I understand why so many of my friends go gaga over the place. I thought I was a Toto's freak earlier, but now, things seem to have changed. But that stupid jukebox needs to be modernised for people below 25 to operate it!

My favourite characters from the Gateway mural on Mondy's wall:

1. The Ringmaster, who reminds me so much of myself.
2. The Brit tourist with his horrible red flowery shirt.
3. The chick with the big boobs jutting out of her polka-dotted dress, and the glass of bubbly in her hand.
4. The dude looking through his binoculars, and with a weird looking little cap on his hand that looked either French or Parsi.
5. The brash American right out front, with his Texan sombrero.

A bonus was the Parsi family (little man, big and fat wife, cheeky daughter, smiling son being blown away by his balloons) riding the tonga on an adjacent wall.


I've also written a new story, after a comparatively long while, and it's posted on Gabbles. It's called Brutality, and it's all about the brutal aspect of wanting to be in love, of searching something 'different' out, from the rabble. (I'm sorry, I'm not much of a happy-love-story kind of a guy, am I?) Anyhow, here's the usual teaser for you to go fish:

Somehow, in these places, a drink was never a drink. She had tried to explain that to the people who knew her, but wasn't sure she had succeeded. There was an idea they had about her, that she was born to such exotica and it suited her, and she could never really make them see the truth. You could never really do anything to change perceptions, she thought sipping the blackcurrant flavoured vodka and letting the organs strain out the last bit of soul in her. It was an exercise in heaven, she would tell herself, but even that didn't exactly hold water when he came over to her from the opposite side of the bar.


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