all the updates

 So here we are, a little past four and I'm preparing to go nowhere with today because it's been a waste in terms of getting my work done, everything else has been fine.

I am slowly getting into the zone of fixing my timings especially regarding the workouts and the earlier I start the better it is. Of course, all the stars have to align for that to happen but today I was done by 11:40 which is good. I was able to do an hour-long intense cardio session with a long cool down.

The only thing I lagged behind in was lunch but still got done by 1 and I'm trying to somewhat cut some more corners so as to be able to start eating before 1 at the very least.

Tomorrow I might miss out on my workout because I'm going to spending the day with a friend who's leaving the country day after and we are making bread together so that she has something fun to eat during her quarantine and I'll make her lunch/dinner. She's very interested in eating the palak curry we make and tomorrow that's exactly what I'll do for her.

I have also cut out coffee from my days, however, tomorrow will be an exception since she's a coffee fiend and what not.

The house looks shiny, the cats are all asleep because it's cold, oh so cold today and I am in the mood for a small cup of hot chocolate.

Tomorrow is Friday..you know what that means! A large mug of tea. I mean these are little life enhancers for me and I try to stick to these wee joys in life because to me these are indeed celebratory.

My friend who was greatly peeved at me for having missed spending new years with her is adamant we celebrate it again this Saturday at a bar she has discovered and who am I if not all for festivities all the time.

Thinking about dinner starts giving me a headache and what will it be tonight?

I cannot keep coming up with different foods each night and today it will be mixed veg with paranthas because that's what I feel like or maybe I'll just make stuffed paranthas. How does cauliflower paranthas sound? Yummy!! Maybe that's what I'll make. 

Off to make some hot chocolate!!

Over and out!]

hisses

would you smite me
with a jolt of shock
that comes even though
I expect it fully
to make me gasp

Spilling the tea

I might have just outdone myself with my cup of tea today, which I finished sipping on, relishing till it reached the point of emptiness.
Tea to me forms an important part of my day, except those when I'm on a caffeine purge, and that's a week, but today was not that day.
I've already mentioned how I postponed my morning tea to an afternoon one and soon after my lunch I look forward to those sparse moments of enjoying hot tea while surfing the interwebs, after which I get on with my daily tasks and schedule, which is currently finishing a drawing.
Tea is that silent moment of utter recluse which I cherish, letting my universe fully envelop me, muting all the voices, keeping myself threaded within and just inhaling the essence of my existence. It lasts only as long as the tea and it not only works wonders but forms a sort of foundation to get on with daily stresses, which is why it's absolutely necessary for the tea in question to be of my liking, because anything other than that might greatly upset me, which also explains why I hardly ever drink tea outside or in someone else's house when offered, unless it's not simply deconstructed black tea or green tea for that matter that doesn't need the usual milk, sugar paraphernalia.

The tea I talk about here is the typical one pan tea where it's literally cooked with spices etc and often called masala tea, wherein my case it's mostly just ginger tea that always has a bit of sugar. Sure I do love my daily dose of oolong and jasmine tea's too, but they come only secondary to this basic necessity and which I near surpassed myself today.
I could go to great lengths and talk about how each individual has a different method/style and taste for tea but I shall only talk about the kind I like, which is to say strong but not in a way that tea leaves are generously brewed, but in fact balanced by keeping milk to a minimum and adding ginger enough to sometimes scald your throat.
Typically I like to have a little more than a small cupful, which is to say anywhere between 130mls-160mls with about a teaspoon of sugar, half teaspoon + a big pinch of long black tea leaves, an inch cube of ginger grated and no more than 30mls of milk. All cooked together until it boils at least thrice for which one is obliged to lift up the pan and bring it to a simmer, repeating this action thrice before straining it and bringing said elixir to lips. And even though this recipe is usually precise because thou shalt never make tea without measuring it can always vary a little at times. Sometimes the ginger isn't strong enough or the sugar might be a bit different (smallest changes can affect cooking and their tastes), or the milk is a different company, and these factors tend to make the tea taste subtly inconsistent each time, not with unfavourable results, but today it felt like everything was meant to come together in refreshing harmony.
The resulting concoction was the drinkable form of all that could be anti-apocalyptical. Just sweet enough, beautifully gingery, coloured like the amber glow of a honeyed kiss, aphrodisiacal in its perfect caffeine strength with the heady aroma of good quality Assam tea, wafting in a cloud of a beautifully coordinated song.
Yes, it was a good tea day.

phantomed

What is not to love about theatrics and I'm adoring every bit of drama these 'ghost' songs exude, and can I just say I'm listening to the acoustic version of Jigolo Har Megiddo the third time in a loop and it's absolutely beautiful.

The vocals are most remarkable and the simple plucking of strings is admirably done. I envy the effortless clean pluck to each string, by masked men no less.

 Beautiful really.

It's an outstanding playlist and how does one thank thee, sweetness?

hearts galore.

 

hearts

My heart
a bleeding pump
morose lump
memory dump
veiny clump
constant thump
a li'l plump
your love hump

one shot to renew repose

This is in fact afternoon or early evening as some might call it and sunset is but an hour away, and this might not be the time to rant about last night considering the small window reserved for nighttime rants is open but momentarily in mornings, yet this is hardly the place to observe correct rant protocols.

last night after my last post I so wholeheartedly wanted to sleep. Shutting my eyes, trying to zero in one one thought that'd soon dissolve and consolidate into one thick dream (or not) and I'd be sweetly humming a zzz tune.

This however was not to be. How could it? It's when you zealously anticipate sleep with a readiness so enthusiastic is exactly when it'll play the treacherous mistress given to lewd perfidiousness and refuse to pay you the minisculest attention you so richly deserve.
Well, I kept imploring. Lying prostrate in a meditative husk, even mistakenly going as far as to invoke the damned infidel, but No. That miserable chatelaine wouldn't as much as blow a kiss in my direction and so I lay.. awake.

I'd shut my eyes hard to kill all thoughts and it felt like I'd inadvertantly in doing so opened the memory floodgates that threatened to drown me in tormenting desolation.
I'd but the cat keeping me company in my sleeplessness. That nocturnal creature lay awake, sitting quietly by my side, gently purring and sharing warmth.

Just when I thought I'd glided unseen, uninvited in sleepy realm, I was rudely banished without a single explanation. That's when I woke up with a parched throat and thoughts I thought I'd slept on still lingering in my head.
I was not for a single moment completely asleep throughout the night.
It was a static limbo, the best that could be offered my way; where my dreams were a mirror echo of what was going on in my mind. None of that dreamy/nightmarish absurdity. Just a straight simple reality that kept hammering into me that I wasn't asleep.

Sometime in the morning when I felt that ashen light had begun feeding on retreating dark I heard a meow and knew it to be the cat's time to be let out.
Once he was gone I ran back into my bed, fitting neatly in the exact same warm spot I'd left not moments ago, encouraged to sleep, going so far as to reassure myself that now is the time you finally get a shuteye. But of course I was way over my head with optimism and all I did for the next two hour after was shuffle my sleepy position, while keeping eyes shut, tossing and turning and feeling wary of my shoulders and arms getting in between a perfect sleeping posture.

Finally I let go and caved in to reality. The usual routine followed with an added vibration of sussurating ache between my shoulder blades and legs.
And what am I if not a recurring masochist. Through all that I did I hefty workout that helped crumble whatever was left of my smarting visage. Throbbing with fresher ache and sore in places I didn't think I'd have the pleasure of knowing, I sit and listen to what's left of the audiobook 'razor girl'.

The only consolation is that this meritorious fresh pain has mostly camouflaged last night's anguish

scratch that itch

And a good afternoon to you delicious honey coloured curtains, sheepishly sieving dull light into a golden tan on my bed.
A ruinous sepia tinted hue outside with a hint of dystopian warmth frozen in the crevices of icy shallows.

The world seems especially inviting if you were to coalesce into a non entity as protozoan as tumbleweed; letting yourself astray hither and thither.  An absurdity insignificantly breathing, exhaling purposeless existence.
Unintelligently immune to the workings of existence and too asinine to know better.

Or perhaps if you were to turn yourself inside out, so that your ribs could see how it feels when the weather's breezy. Taut tissue relaxing, lungs deflating and muscles unwinding.
Walking on the pavement hailing hi's to eyes passing by, a sodden horror of red nerves skinless bound tight in sinews of bleeding corpuscles.
Spongy brain unfurling into thick ribbons of sticky goo, a pumping heart with chambers four black and blue.
Smiling at the sky with eyes a horrific collection of stringy veins and molten fluid.

A perfect antidote to dismal days for when you want to give up and go.

in outer reaches of weather madness

Today turns out to be bipolar.
A bit of rain and then the briefest vomit of sunshine and rains again and sun after that.

Perhaps a loony bin for all things nature?
A place where dark ages live in a padded cell, cancer curing plague, demented snowflakes, room temperature snow, mammalian moths, gravity that lost its gravitas, oxygen bearing piece of space, bloodsucking magnetic fields, spherical squares, pliable diamonds..all retardation incomprehensible at best under a roof.
 Somewhere in the invisible reaches of molten galaxy of the horsehead nebula; a few parallel universes apart in the Supernova lane, dying star adjacent near reverse time aesthetics lies the hospice for ubiquitous transmundane entities.
Run under the psychiatric guidance of carbon dated 180°angles.
They check on each patient with an air of calm concern and when it's decided that a case is beyond repair it's mercifully fed into a blackhole incinerator.
A black hole incinerator being a transmogrifying entity that's often used to keep the growing number of black holes in check.

So there it is.. the perfect place for where today's weather needs be gone.

Perhaps it will be cured..

flit

I'm in the process of hugging my speakers, and perhaps make sweet sweet love to them..

they've been rather helpful in streaming beautifully measured notes of rasping melody, which if I were to explain sounds like brass dew drops nestling softly on velvety ferrous. A robust coo, a potent whisper, the tiniest intake of audible breath nonchalantly virile. sigh..deepest sigh

Oh dear, I'm so greedy.

--

I've been saving watching black mirror 3 for days when I'm absolutely low on tv series and there's nothing out there to watch.. a bit like safe deposit in a bank.

Finished watching 'forbrydelsen II' and now there's the third part that I have, which also I have kind of deposited in tv series savings account..  for days when you're at your wits end feeling useless.
--

Anime flowers.. :).. perhaps. They're cherry blossoms, or a bit like cherry blossoms. I wasn't thinking how they'd up looking the way they did. Subconscious is such a mirror, or is it a window?

--

What am I doing this November..hmm.. what am I doing? nothing special I guess. Not going out anywhere, there are no travel plans laid out. I hope to do a lot more writing. 'Hope' being the keyword. A bit like what Samuel Johnson said about second marriages 'the triumph of hope over experience', and that's exactly what I'm aiming for.
The hope bit, not the second marriage part.(I hope ;))

--

There's more..so much more.. and soon.

Morosity et la métaphysique

Ah, the despondent void that seems to follow one around like Mary's Lamb..except that this void isn't nearly as edible not prone to being fleeced. 

Fact: this weird sense of sadness is a perennial hanger on, and much like a ghost, it manifests itself most malevolently when acknowledged..though however I must confess, it feels awful kind of warm and sweetly miserable to step inside this gaping void, which exists for reason so well known. 

Rains don't help neither. (How decidedly Victorian lame with eww inducing romantic overtures)  

--

There's a tachyon paced 

continuous loop of infinite movie 

lining the innermost caves of my synapses, 

ceaselessly whirring 

a photo luminescent reel 

of secret delights that're endlessly 

and eternally emitted and absorbed in gasps and ganglia. 

Soon..