My mind na…. I tells you. Just goes for these random jogs (pufing and huffing after two minutes) into a lovely green park, ignores all the signs, trips over fallen branches, gets a t-shirt torn by poking thorns and then comes back with a collection of white mushrooms in its mouth. Wagging its tail and wondering why the fuck is no one giving it a nice pat on the back.
Like today I was thinking that if I had a magic pen it would be super cool. This is the kind of pen that allows you go to a date by just writing it down. So if you wrote “10th April 1810” you would instantly be transported to that day. The origins of this thought stream was the realisation that I frequently forget which year it is…so when I am about to write a date down, I think twice. Specially the years part. About a month ago, I spent about five minutes wondering it was 2011 or 2010.
And then there was the trouble with the socks. My little toe refused to let me wear my socks, the goddam things kept getting stuck at the little toe. And I was thinking that my toe is one stubborn mothafucka who just does not want to get covered. Like a rebellious teen in an extremely orthodox family.
Also, there were dreams last night about being attacked by a pack of pigeons. Can you frikkin believe that? Pigeons. Which made me think of whether they would make appropriate gifts. Like no one really gifts pigeons these days. I wonder why. I think a pigeon is too big to keep in a cage. Which made me think of an urban zoo. Which would have mongrels and cats and pigeons and those massive rats which look like frikkin racoons.
Which made me think of the dinner I had with the Burmese and how he has no locus standi to make fun of small towns such as Jamshedpur (Whose motto apparently is green city, clean city, steel city). The motherfuka is from Burma! I mean c’mon. The capital city sounds like a frikkin raccoon.
And then today I saw one of those doves with a black ring around its neck and wondered which god had done that. Like there is this story that the hippy god stroked a squirrel with his three fingers and thats why squirrels have those three stripes on their back.
Stroking a squirrel.
Nope, that don’t sound right in my mind.
But then you already know what kind of stuff passes in my mind.
Or rather “Cheque please”
Shit, there was this awesome comedy show (by the same team who made meet the kumars) and there was this one skit which would always end with the chap signalling the end of a bad date by saying “Cheque please”.
I just lifted a sofa and threw it at you.
That was the sofa hitting you smack on the face.