see you…next week?

Swami A

seductionsalvation.blogspot.com

Ten patrons wait outside, hoping they will be allowed inside. They are wearing impeccable white dhotis, tied in the traditional manner; last week, a man used a belt to hold up the cloth. He was asked to leave, even though he explained that as an amputee he should be allowed some concession.

Jai go to the bottom of the class for getting Star Wars dialogue wrong.

I deliberately tweaked the original dialogue to make it fit my version. Go sit in the corner and write a 3000-word essay on why Jai shouldn’t be at the bottom of the class.

“He is never on time!” she fumed, as the office clock ticked 8:45 AM. She could almost see the single-engine plane they were flying to Hawaii. She gazed at infinity in clear NY sky, to divert her mind.

“Isn’t that plane flying too low?”

He knew that guy could have broken his nose in one punch, and he shook his head

She played a little more with the font, trying to decide which one was less aggressive, less cold and unforgiving. Castellar was too pretentious, Comic Sans too lively.

She switched off the computer and wrote the leaving note by hand. At least he could remember her by something real.

And he didn’t even quote M.I.A.

Are the words of the sufis worth anything? “Nay!” I say. There is nothing in the world worth anything except a good Beatle’s lyric and a fresh cup of coffee in the morning.

And I don’t drink coffee.

Chicago! Land of glorious lights, of elevated trains, of Sandburg’s poems and Sandberg’s double plays, of daytime games and shirtless fans, and circular myths that may never go away–Chicago!

Chicago, if only you weren’t so far away– if you were on the C, I might come Saturday.

Fingers move deftly across the dirtied pavement of the keyboard, cli-cli-cli-cli-clicking ad nauseum, until at last they pause.

The inner voice urges them onwards, without mind, though there had never been anything left to say in the first place.

When will I say “amen”?