one day time, one night time, one time

I am quite excited and exhausted in equal parts. This post is going to be a dump of whatever is going on in my head right now. It is 1:54 a.m and I will write until it is 2:15. Post 2:15 I will go back to do some work and then I will go and make coffee and then I will have coffee and work some more. Some days when I get out of the house, I want the world to be purple. Lavender? Lilac? Mauve? Some shade of purple. Papery and purple to be exact. There are these pictures that I see trending on the internet - facebook really - of lots of shaded avenues with beautiful, purple flowers and gorgeous, pretty trees! Loads of sweet stuff and candies. I have a craving for kaju katli. Is it katli or katri? It has been so long that I have forgotten. It is a gorgeous piece of sweet! Those diamond-shaped mouldings of ground cashew, sugar, and flour and the vark film on it -so tasty! I also am thinking of some other sweet thing. The other day I ate a Danish pastry at 18 degrees. It was chewy and nice. I am not sure if a Danish is supposed to be chewy but I was eating a baked treat after very, very long. And hey! Wouldn't it be nice to work on something gorgeous and elaborate? Like making barfis? Barfi! See, the name came to me when I was thinking about whether t is katri or katli. You know what I want to do? I want to actually just go to the Himalayas for an extended period of time. It is amazing just how much overwhelm I am tackling right now. When people say, you have to take it one day at a time - it is not good advice. It is the ONLY advice. You cannot do anything but. I think somewhere in the sky, there is a giant block of eternity that is getting shaved and grated and it is falling into all of our lives as times. Pieces of days, slivers of hours, projects to complete. Voidness is sweet. It would be nice to get done with all kinds of time-related stuff and just have little bubbles of void. What would bubbles of void look like? Purple, I think. I also like yellow. I find it cheery. When you break an egg and the yellow yolk pours out of it like a song, song of the sun, it feels good. Such a tasty, yummy mode of happiness to be conveyed. In fact, as much as I find a yolk cheery and pretty, I also think it is quite a mysterious puddle of gook. I am consuming a destiny of sorts, am I not, when I eat an egg? Whatever that chicken could have become? Maybe that is a good way to spur oneself on. Eat egg and then work really hard because you don't just have your own potential to live up to but also the chicken. I think I have become a kinder person. Here are some traits that I really admire about people: generosity, patience, kindness, loyalty, and a sense of play. Women are nice, you know. Sometimes when you ask a person about the way they want to die, women usually answer quickly, thoughtfully. They are not guarded. Men usually are. Sometimes in my dreams I see a deep, red wound. At first I used to be really scared of it but then I decided not to be. I feel myself tensing when I see it but I continue to keep my eyes shut and breathe through that pain. In my mind's eye, I feel the wound feel tender around the edges. But then, the other dayy, I got some form of strength when I plunged a finger inside and rooted out a tangled piece of stinking root/ nerve sort of thing. It looked like a root. I do not like lizards. I especially don't like the ones that have mottled skin. Today my landlord said that I have not paid up for one mnth. That is not possible. I have to check with the bank tomorrow. It is so exhausting keeping pace with all these things. There is a cheque that I really wanted cleared this month but I think it will be cleared next month. I like making plans on Facebook with friends to have coffee with. Is that sentence structure correct? Maybe, maybe not. It is harsh. People are good. I think overall people are good. On one of my tabs that is open, there is an article on Seneca;s Stoic philosophy. I should have read that instead of writing this. No. It is good to write. It is very good to write. When people don't write, how do they cope? I want to write a book. I was thinking that soon enough, I will start writing a book. After October. One more minute to go. I don't know how many seconds. It feels good to write. It feels good to get empty. This feels like the last leg of something. I want new, fresh things. Beautiful, pretty things that are purple.