27 October, 2012

Off and on

Its usually when there's nothing much to do (or to be done) or when there's just too much that this blog gets a new post.

 Pujo just passed. It was subdued for me. Quite unlike the past couple of years. Perforce.

 Too much happened, the gamut of which cannot be set down.

 What can be said is this:

  I shall still chase elusive wraiths in swift-falling dusks. Ramble on old forgotten routes through the teeming tenements of my hateloved cityscape. Landmarks of a passing childhood, teenage and collegiate revelry - all of which are tied inextricably to this city.

  I shall continue to randomly pet dogs on the street. And make disgustingly saccharine sounds at kittens. Jump up on half-constructed concrete bulwarks to gaze at greyish ghosts in a brazen horizon.

 I shall still have the Dylan and Cohen, and the rare Beethoven.

 The sudden burst of sunshine at a mindless kinship, a random bonding over coffee and other substances of a certain potency.

 This is the turn of the year. As always it quickens something of that half-forgotten failed poet in me. Still. Half-a-lifetime away. 

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