Not at my prime

When I open the widow and let in that fresh morning breeze, when the monsoon pitter patter has subsided for just a few minutes, I feel a cozy refreshing start to my Friday morning. I feel thankful. I feel thankful to all the human beings who’ve brought me here. Though I am fairly certain I have not disappointed anyone close to me, today I stand corrected. Today was the last of a string of emails I received from someone who has been by my side for the past year. I refused to renew Amazon Prime. This was not a sudden decision. It took months of deliberation and talking to my therapist. It was concluded that this wasn’t helping me. The email read “We will not be renewing your membership”, like a stab through the heart. It felt like a stab because up until then it was all like “don’t forget to renew” or “you haven’t renewed” or “quick reminder!”. I miss it. I miss it already. You never realize the worth of what you have until you lose it.

Red rockets

Every time the weather people get the weather wrong, I put some money in the weather jar, so that one day, I’ll have enough money to fund an efficient weather forecast system. It will involve so many unemployed B-tech engineers, stretched over hundreds of miles over the mountains, wearing raincoats, and clinging on to dear life. I call it the WG system, or the Wall of Engineers. So many families will live and work at this wall. Everything from cigarettes to quantum computers will be hand-delivered to these Engineers by Zomato delivery agents, because those guys can get anywhere. In fact, we should all stop calling ambulances. I dare you, call an ambulance, and order a pizza at the same time, lets see which one gets home first.

Rain

Poverty, depression and rain. What do they all have in common? That’s right. Nothing. So there’s no use trying to get all philosophical. A better idea would be to start to fix things using the power of reason. Having said that, I love to look out my poverty-stricken window when it rains. It calms me. I feel happy when it rains. It’s like meditation without the bullshit. All the other noise is masked by the sound of rain drops. Somehow, the sound of farts still make it through to the ears, loud and clear.

Stranger in Moscow is a great song.