I am still preparing for today, even as it goes on.
Life, like a frolicking puppy, has playfully placed me amongst men I do not know in an evening eager to stay and simmer into a warm summer night. A more philosophical soul than mine would say no one really knows even themselves. But philosophy is not the point among men who pride themselves on practicality, on real things, on lack of emotional outlets, on the capacity to ingest sweet alcoholic poison and exhale suppressed thoughts in smoky silences.
They have a lot to talk about, men. They have a way of talking about a lot without having much to say. A casual shrug dismisses wives and homely duties. It is not everywhere they show softness. Wives have waited, they will wait a little more, it does not matter. Half their lives they have spent waiting, the other half in looking back on the times they waited far too long. If there is an exam tomorrow, if tomorrow ever comes, a hundred such tomorrows will keep coming till one day you realise your child isn't in school anymore. Reality is something you suffer from. You let it infect you, hoping you'll get immune to it. Men sit around smoke and dark vague fluids with smoke and dark vague fluidity in their thoughts.
Today your boss said something to you that you did not like. They were mere words. They are always mere words. A slap would have hurt less. You, a man, let that out into this evening. You know the other men beside you do that too. You know we are all defeated. You can discuss targets, that colleague who left and did something and ended up making a whole lot of money, the current market, the current anything, the past, the future, the whole lot of topics you always keep on the tip of your tongue to avoid having to explain yourself but never fall short of words. You will need words and drinks to fill the silences, silences bring clarity, you can deal with anything but clarity right now as you let the comfort of the haze take over you.
Life sits beside me silently in this lazy, hazy evening. Stars are starting to reveal themselves like secrets we know but refuse to face. She asks me if I am alright. Unknown men and unsaid things lurk in the haze, but she looks at me and says, ah, you're growing old, you're reading too much into things. I am frightened of being old, of turning 27, of things lurking around corners, of the different ways we poison ourselves.
Men talk, men listen. I too, try. I am never going to be prepared for tomorrow all my life. I will remorselessly be pushed ahead, and someday life will sit with me again in a vague evening full of unknowns, and we will talk like friends.
I just.. please make a blog Shinjini please please please. This is beyond excellent and beautiful and touched my heart with relatability too. It was almost as if I was talking to the colleague in the haze first, yes, and then to life on the ledge of the river, old friends, bittersweet ones
I am not prepared for tomorrow.
I am still preparing for today, even as it goes on.
Life, like a frolicking puppy, has playfully placed me amongst men I do not know in an evening eager to stay and simmer into a warm summer night. A more philosophical soul than mine would say no one really knows even themselves. But philosophy is not the point among men who pride themselves on practicality, on real things, on lack of emotional outlets, on the capacity to ingest sweet alcoholic poison and exhale suppressed thoughts in smoky silences.
They have a lot to talk about, men. They have a way of talking about a lot without having much to say. A casual shrug dismisses wives and homely duties. It is not everywhere they show softness. Wives have waited, they will wait a little more, it does not matter. Half their lives they have spent waiting, the other half in looking back on the times they waited far too long. If there is an exam tomorrow, if tomorrow ever comes, a hundred such tomorrows will keep coming till one day you realise your child isn't in school anymore. Reality is something you suffer from. You let it infect you, hoping you'll get immune to it. Men sit around smoke and dark vague fluids with smoke and dark vague fluidity in their thoughts.
Today your boss said something to you that you did not like. They were mere words. They are always mere words. A slap would have hurt less. You, a man, let that out into this evening. You know the other men beside you do that too. You know we are all defeated. You can discuss targets, that colleague who left and did something and ended up making a whole lot of money, the current market, the current anything, the past, the future, the whole lot of topics you always keep on the tip of your tongue to avoid having to explain yourself but never fall short of words. You will need words and drinks to fill the silences, silences bring clarity, you can deal with anything but clarity right now as you let the comfort of the haze take over you.
Life sits beside me silently in this lazy, hazy evening. Stars are starting to reveal themselves like secrets we know but refuse to face. She asks me if I am alright. Unknown men and unsaid things lurk in the haze, but she looks at me and says, ah, you're growing old, you're reading too much into things. I am frightened of being old, of turning 27, of things lurking around corners, of the different ways we poison ourselves.
Men talk, men listen. I too, try. I am never going to be prepared for tomorrow all my life. I will remorselessly be pushed ahead, and someday life will sit with me again in a vague evening full of unknowns, and we will talk like friends.
I just.. please make a blog Shinjini please please please. This is beyond excellent and beautiful and touched my heart with relatability too. It was almost as if I was talking to the colleague in the haze first, yes, and then to life on the ledge of the river, old friends, bittersweet ones
Wow ✨