Posted in Of Psyche

Of Appetite

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Cake is the language of love. – Dylan Moran

Appetite, noun

1. a desire for food or drink.

2. a desire to satisfy any bodily need or craving.

3. a desire or liking for something; fondness; taste. [Courtesy: Dictionary.com]

Wouldn’t it be a relief, a release, however incredible the situation? You keep desiring to be rid of so many desires, because modern wisdom has convinced you that all want is evil, unless it is painfully got, and can only be justified by further suffering. That you must suffer for your health, for your happiness, because all other easy pleasures lead to more or a different kind of suffering. Ultimately, modern life is a choice between the good kind of suffering, and the bad kind of suffering. And no one knows for sure which is which. Continue reading “Of Appetite”

Posted in Of Bloggingly

Crapathy

SadMonkey
Our Cousin Feeling Crapathetic (Courtesy: Pixabay)

First I thought it was a passing phase and out of nowhere, I found myself singing Daniel Powter. Then, a day turned into a few days. On Saturday I called it a “bad week”, as I shed a few embarrassing and uncharacteristic tears in public transport. Today, it’s ten days. Like any bad meteorologist, I hope my prediction is false when I say, “Seems like Hurricane Crapathy will be with us for a fortnight.”

To be honest, I don’t know what crapathy means exactly. I first learnt about it through Continue reading “Crapathy”

Posted in Of Bloggingly

Book Review: A Horse Walks Into A Bar

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A Horse Walks Into A Bar Cover

I want to try something new. I’m thinking of calling it Amrita’s ‘Wednesday Words of Wisdom’. These wouldn’t be rehashing some trite motivational quotes. No, Messieurs et Mesdames et Mesdemoiselles. These will be the hard-earned truth, laid brutally on your casual reading plate. Today’s words are: Never ask anybody what they think of you. Continue reading “Book Review: A Horse Walks Into A Bar”

Posted in Of Writingly

Short Story: Strange Attraction

Cerulean Butterfly
Cerulean Butterfly (Courtesy: Pixabay)

It started with a dedication. We were on holiday in France. It was my first time there, and we spent most of it stuck in a hotel room, on account of getting sick from some terrible, as well as terribly posh, food. Mum was taking care of me, my sister Janey and dad. She was the only one who didn’t get sick, the only one who’d been there so many times that she knew what not to do. She was watching this show on a French music channel called C’est Pop. The French clearly fail their imagination when it comes to naming pop music shows.

He was there, the only man my mother told my dad she’d leave him for. Continue reading “Short Story: Strange Attraction”