Bunuelesque

Classic mush rock, edges smoothened out and the whisky talk; phrases lifted right out of my evening on a hot and cool Shasthi evening in cal and suitably pretentious for me to start off another vastly insipid piece. Do I even write for an audience or just to etch snatches of spontaneity for a story I will or will never say? That’s too boring – hardly qualifies as whisky talk!

The muggy evening sweated out into an overcrowded bubbly night and here I was driving through the crawling traffic listening to a pretty piece of a familiar raga rendered in an all too distinctive idiosyncratic fashion. The radio does have a habit of throwing up pleasant surprises. The announcement of the next piece made me break into a fit of “bah”. Another timeless classic and suitably soothing to tide me over what seemed a long way home; and I grew wearier and wearier as if an invisible ectoplasm seeped from me onto the magnetic repulsive enthusiasm of the milling masses. Life is a tad confusing for me today, and I was just waiting to wake up on the right side of the bed; care for a wager anyone?

20 pennies or a heavy pound or a useless old one p – take your pick since I can spare no silver. That’s a way to make choices simpler – don’t have too many. That’s a fab enough one-liner for me to write home a letter about – or maybe write a stupid blog.

The escape hatch just came undone after years of fumbling with the lock. Preparing for launch; I failed to identify the device. Only too late did I see it was a Vernian cannon; and the massive G-force was soon crushing me into all my excess baggage, and my eyes streamed beyond my pretty lashes along with my tears. Bunuelesque!