First, there was the poem, Thinking' by Danusha Lameris.
Don't you wish they would stop, all the thoughts
swirling around in your head, bees in a hive, dancers
tapping their way across the stage? I should rake the leaves
in the carport, buy Christmas lights. Was there really life on Mars?
What will I cook for dinner? I walk up the driveway,
put out the garbage bins. I should stop using plastic bags,
visit my friend whose husband just left her for the Swedish nanny.
I wish I hadn't said Patrick's painting looked "ominous."
Maybe that's why he hasn't called. Does the car need oil again?
There's a hole in the ozone the size of Texas and everything
seems to be speeding up. Come, let's stand by the window
and look out at the light on the field. Let's watch how the clouds
cover the sun and almost nothing stirs in the grass.
Next, there was the delectable poha that my cook makes.I find Maharashtrian poha to be the best, especially made with potatoes. I prefer it to Indori poha, although sometimes that too is very flavorful. I don't really mind the avalakki I ate in Bangalore but once I had this avalakki mae with red poha. It was more coarse but very distinctive. That was nice too. Poha and ginger tea was nice!
I am currently reading 'The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self' by Alice Miller. In a nutshell, it's a psychoanalyst's theory of what's wrong with us. But it is so insightful that I often find myself wondering where this book has been all my life.
I found my soft suede tunic in rust. I'd been looking for it forever. And then I stopped looking for it for three years and voila! There it is...all sweet and happy! I will wear it later today as I slog it out. I would like to take some time out to wear it and treat myself to coffee and leisurely reading. Let's see. Once you have picked out a happy outfit, it's like the day's destiny comes scampering in. But I have a call in the early evening. No matter.
Day is almost over, not over. Year has changed, not changed. Droll.
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