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They discussed Tapas bars in the city over dinner. They dissected the best place for martinis. And the worst places. They laughed at how she'd had three martinis at one of the godawfullest bars simply cos they were there and someone else was buying. And how it had made her sick. So sick she couldn't even eat the olives (which everyone knows are the best bits of a martini). They talked about how Olive Garden had the worst sangrias (too much juice), and how Mi Luna had the best (lots of wine). They both knew where the best mimosas could be had for a late brunch. And suddenly she had a disconnect. Since when had she become the person who knew which bar was the best to buy a bottle of tequila from if people wanted to take the party home. Then, he brought up mojitos and she was kneedeep in conversation again.
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That night just before she fell asleep she had a thought. A wandering, bewildered, stray one. Maybe somewhere in all of this, this hectic recent life, this moving from one country to another to another, somewhere inside of all these sometimes contradictory selves, she'd
Update: I just found R.W's Love Supreme on my iPod. Who *am* I?? No, really.
11 comments:
we must grab these moments. otherwise what happens is known as time flying by and waking up several years later to find we have ended up where we didnt want to be. like in movies. the horrid reality is when you see it in your own life and know that it can happen to you. i reiterate: we must grab these moments.
very nice post :)
And love supreme?? Really??
the ones where u realize. those split seconds of your self in the middle of a lot of other things.
Right. But what if all the rest of it is actually you and the split seconds is not. Doesn't that seem more logical? This has always confused me :)
"....cat-calling lunatics that are called men in Madras "
I object your Honor...
"You haven't met yourself yet, but the advantage of meeting others in the meantime is that one of them may present you to yourself." Steve Brudniak, Waking Life
And, really, does the self have to be static? Maybe the self is fluid, ever changing, yet always the same. And though it may be elusive, playfully involved in a game of hide and seek, it's always there, lurking around a corner, never completely out of sight.
or perhaps its always what it is. just masked over and over by impressions, expectations, fulfillment of obligations etc. and those split seconds seem more real than anything else, because they reveal whats inside. if it were just another falsity, it wouldnt startle us so much.
"i try to be aware of myself. the reason it's difficult is because i'm constantly changing."
-- charles mingus
@tmwwt(?): Did you just call me your honour? Hehehehe. Objection duly noted and rejected outta hand :D
@wiseling: So they say. So they say. :)
@C&b: Liked that interpretation a lot :). You're becoming quite wise, young 'un.
@tr: Hehehe. Here, here, Mr.Mingus :)
oh aah. there is a well-covered and ignored wise side to my wonderfully multifaceted personality. i keep my wisdom firmly under wraps. does not go with the 'image' of the blog so to say.
@C&b: Right! :P
Nut :)
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