I can’t write. I can’t think. I can’t read. I can’t sleep. I can’t wake up.
My life is over. I’m finished. There is nothing to do. And yet, I’m busy. HOW THE FUCK CAN SOMEONE BE BUSY DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING?
My performance at the Quiz and Debate at Jamia was disappointing, to say the least. Actually, it was fucking atrocious! The debate was won solely by Decay, who is ironically decaying (a broken ankle last I heard). I was out-quizzed (My blog ought to say: Here Be Neologisms) by MV Namesake and Guhahaha (… n).
My writing has been carp crap and I have lost the ability to be witty or funny or profound. I am even unable to come up with a neat little analogy or simile or metaphor to describe what I sound like, in person or through the medium or words! GOD! FUCKING! DAMN! IT!
In any case, here’s the latest from the series of disastrous ventures and mindless escapades that is my existence on this here piece of mass orbiting a giant fusion reactor:
- Have almost given up hope on the GRE. Recent developments have led me to believe it’s a lost cause. Reader! Just give my blog a look and ask yourself this: Do I look like someone who can actually carve a career out for himself as a PhD in Theoretical Physics? Would you, if you were the admissions officer at any university, admit me and be willing to offer me a scholarship or teaching assistantship or the like?
- Am in Bangalore right now. Came here for my sister’s convocation. She’s working with a company endorsed by Tiger Woods, who put her through this college to get an MBA in Human Capital Management. Dad was there too. He has to learn something: Vodka and Sprite is not my preferred drink!
- Am typing this on this guy’s laptop, at his flat. The scary bit is… this is MY neighborhood. I can see my bedroom window from his bedroom window. Yet, things have changed. It’s an epidemic of over-commercialization. There were never so many people near the 100ft road gate, neither were there so many cars all over the place. And there are approximately eleven times as many high-class restaurants in a 5-km radius as they were when I left.
There’s more to say. But I can’t. Not eloquently, at least. And I have always believed that anything that cannot be written down well is not worth writing, which is why I have a mere 2 drafts. This hasn’t been fun. It pains me to think about the amount of time that has elapsed between my last good piece of writing and this.
Please… Mind… I know you’re there… Start working again!