Foggy Nights Tea Cups and Boxer Shorted Escapades

Last night it was the first really nice full of fog and rain …night. I absolutely loved it. I hear it is never foggy in the desert and despite this lovely weather, here I am, sitting in the office, doing nothing. Nothing at all.

Last night was fun, my room is about a half a kilometer open air trek from the ground floor, it was about three in the morning when I decided I would not be able to get much sleep and got up, waded through the string of dirty mugs, and other stuff that lies around on my bedroom floor. I distinctly remember some of those things moving off their own accord, but hey, it’s so cold, who cares. Also, memo to self, sleeping in boxers alone is all good, waking up in them and getting out of bed. Not so cool. Things shrink. May create mental imbalances and fuel Freudian complexes in lesser individuals. Do not try if you are faint of the heart.

Finally found a decent piece of clothing, decent enough so that I wouldn’t get frost bite, and made my way through the forests of mists and fog to the kitchen downstairs, made myself a cup of tea which required patience and frequent quivering. Turns out that when it is really cold, all you have to do is put the spoon in the mug and the sugar is stirred and the tea cup looks resembles a whirlpool.

Now once you get to the roof, in the Fog, and the eyes can’t really see beyond two meters, one realizes that that is exactly how he has lived all his life. With a limited sight, and anything or anyone that leaves the peripheral vision is left behind. The smell of the Fog is amazing though. It feels strange, as if you are breathing in something that is very much alive and the taste lingers on your taste buds.

And then the memories start chasing you down, of strange things and happenings, of all that is shrouded in more than just this mist that you can see, that you can sift through, of things that are below a more metaphoric Fog, hidden, clawing and scratching away at the cobwebs that pesky little spiders have knit around them. They can’t ever come out, its part of life I guess, and the way it moves and treats you. The past experiences and the shadows, always come out and speak in a way that you actually think for an instance that you can hear what they are saying. It is so good to know that you have more good memories than bad ones, but it takes courage to look beyond the ugly.

The Ugly are lighter and get more attention, men, maybe even women (I have no idea) are pretty shallow when it comes to pain and grievances. We always seem to remember the harder times, spend more time complaining about them, but hardly ever jump for joy enough. I think we should jump for joy every time we get an opportunity to do so. In fact I am jumping right now.

Yes, did my jumping, another memo to self, put the tea cup down before jumping, for the joy lasts not long lest ye put thy cup down. The hand the rocks the cup, burns and despite what people and culture and the bloody philosophers say, the physical scars remain and time doesn’t always heal them, the psychological scars are ones that I do not really care about. Why? Cause I am not built that way. Oh, I might have them, everyone does, but if you really put into the perspective of, Hey! I am going to die in…I don’t know when, then the worries that plagued your mind till then, should really vanish. I think one should care more of what the future holds, not worry much about the past, think about it , yes, please do, but learn from it as much as possible. Learn from other people’s experiences, trust me, you cannot have all the experiences that ten of your friends had separately. If you manage to do all that successfully, call me up and tell me. My current contact number is +923008485933.

If you don’t then keep trying, and one day you shall learn all that is to learn about life, and then it will be time to go. So, some would advocate having fun, loads of it, doing everything that morality, theology and other ologies deny you. But I don’t give a damn about such theories. I say, one should have moral and civic and religious values. Not because they support you, not because they give you excuses for being weak. Being human is excuse enough to need support and care and love and pity and hate and anger or happiness and all the emotions that shift shape faster than a doppelganger. I say we need values because other wise you and I or the person next to you is nothing better than a stray dog, or hyena or some other wild animal. Rather, more like a Pig, because it is a fact that only Pigs; other than human beings, have sex and food upon whim and want and not need to procreate but because they like it and want to have it there and then. So we would be a bunch of STD Infested, gluttonous, two legged stuffed mouthed fornicating PIGS, wouldn’t Pink Floyd just love that.