Wasn't it like a week ago that we had the last eid? Oh my, I have completely lost my sense of time (and my sense of timing was always screwed). All I can remember about last month is the subway. Zip to here, dash to there, read Pamuk on the bus and Vassanji on the job.
I spoke with my grandmother after a long time, today. And after a long, long time I have this urge to just buy a ticket and fly off to Lahore, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.
Reading my emails I find that I once had a life, and some people beleive that I still have one; if they only knew, my woes have neither an end nor any meaning.
My greatest fear is loosing myself in the 9-5, or the drudgery of my roommate's punjabi stage show collection. No wonder a coffee time nearby looks more cozy to me than my own apartment. And the bills that pile up and the constant phone calls I get from institutions I owe money too; Arrrgh, don't wonna think about them!
I survive on fiction, that I am sure of. I would die without these worlds (and words) that sometimes give meaning, and sometimes withhold it. Not merely an escape, they exist as parallel realities where things occur for a purpose, no matter how strange or ordinary. I belong to these alternate universes, not this one that I am in, and perhaps that is the only 'ehsaas' that sustains me these days.