Rambling rants replete with riposte

old monk wale sponsor kar do please

From the other end of the street, I hear a voice call out my name.

“Oi! How are you? ”

The sound has barely even registered in my brain but my lips have already started forming the standard response, “I’m fine.”

So we walk a bit, talk a bit and laugh a lot more. And we reminisce and sigh and agree that yes, the older days were much better. Then she waves goodbye and leaves while I plug in my earphones and continue the same path.

Home, was at least 10 minutes away. I try to concentrate on the music but the stream of my thoughts keep interrupting the falsetto. I hasten to turn it off. Sorry, Thom Yorke.

So how am I? No, really. How am I? Not fine, surely. I’ve been reading a few books here and there, a few blog posts up and down but most of my time is spent on the feed. Yeah, that endless stream of constant news articles, memes, meta, meta-meta and meta-meta-meta memes that have managed to hijack my dopamine receptors. My cardiovascular health is in shambles. There are mini heart attacks I get when I reach the end of the page and that blue circle is still loading. The only thing I dread (other than no more gulab jamun), is that, one day I click Refresh and there be nothing new. Acha, everybody is having real life conversations now, uh huh.

Yesterday was bad, a double whammy. WhatsApp went down for an hour. An hour, you realise? Do you, WhatsApp/Facebook (I don’t know, one of the evil ones), know how many perfect life-daaru-club-male-armpits-in-the-air stories, I missed during that time?

Facebook, although, was alive and kicking in the same way as a newborn baby pisses in your face for attention. Also marking the occasion were some of my friends who took one of their two day break(the other being their birthday) from researching Elon Musk or whatever it is successful people do nowadays, to wish everyone who is still friends a happy new year. Of course, spoilsorts(my favourite kind) abound.

My visual sensory mechanism has also gone banjar. Common triggers I’ve been prescribed to avoid are oversaturated colours, square-framed posters of 60s pop bands and oiled bodies. My medical condition also involves me failing to recognise my friends in their pictures, confusing them with plants (not of the lovable, grass variety) or better, one of the virile men of the abe kutte species. The prescription includes glasses that automatically de-filters uhm, filters or whatever has taken the place of fairness creams these days.

Twitter was the only social network still normal which of course, for Twitter, is absolutely bat-shit crazy. I promptly wished a new year to all of my one followers although I have a slight suspicion that there is something fishy with beardboy786. Perhaps the tinder link in the bio is where I should start investigating.

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