Thursday, August 13, 2015

616, 615, 614, 613

I searched for books on loneliness. Good Reads throws up these interesting suggestions (Jane Eyre and 1984 are part of it).

Yesterday I did not go to work because there was another personal crisis. I cooked for a friend. I bought three bottles of wine and my friend and I had all of it. We ate on the terrace and she made me listen to some really nice songs from Qayamat se Qayamat Tak.

For a bit, we lay on your backs looking up at the sky and it was a beautiful grey-black-blue sky and thick tufts of leaves blew stiffly - the way one would swing a bottle-brush slowly.

Today I was listening to an interview where a bunch of writers were discussing David Foster Wallace. Someone suggested that maybe he tried to 'do a Kurt Cobain', i.e. - he killed himself so that he could immortalize himself a cult figure. (I thought it was a very harsh and cruel assessment). Someone else said that Wallace killing himself was not about career advancement. It was more about a mental illness. People with suicidal tendencies, someone pointed out, do not wake up every morning wanting to kill themselves. They wake up every morning thinking 'why they should not'. On the day when the answer doesn't come, the suicide happens.

People discuss all kinds of shit.

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