Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Thoughts meander like/ A restless wind/ Inside a letterbox.

Seems like every night is a dark and stormy night. The stories don't get written. The movies don't get seen. And people continue to perfect Phil Spector's Wall of Sound inside my head.

If there's one thing that's relentless, it's time. Not my best friend, currently, no matter how loudly I sing along with Mick Jagger.

Alongwith my sense of humour, I seem to have lost my talent for excess. Can't drink too much. Too financially-challenged to shop too much. Tired of reading too much. Or maybe just plain tired.

Arsenal kicks Real Madrid's all-star ass. And then loses, the same week, to Blackburn. Blackburn, I ask you?

It isn't even March, and I've already used up my annual quota of patience, tolerance, and turning-a-blind-eye-towards-obvious-idiocy. For those of you who believe work stress is something to be corrected by breathing correctly and playing calming New Age music, you've obviously been fortunate enough to never have worked in my office.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

just need to sing louder then... time... is on my side... yes it is!

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