Rush-die

Rushdie catches all the dream demons in me and gives them a whirl. Toys with them, teases them and gets their tongues-a-flapping. Enraged, excited, incensed, they come and whisper dream inducing nothings in my ear, dragging me into their abyss. The withered words they conjure up are entwined with a glimmer of magic, a thread of mysticism. The filth they serve keeps me in a vice-like grip, enchanting me with fresh possibilities thrown in with trashed, much used and hated commonalities. And when the yellow feverish heat of their tales finally fades, I am left in a sticky web, that other nether-world, where I dream of hearing words never thought, create delirious scenarios that torment me with their unnatural longevity.

Questions and Answers

Some questions just have to be asked. Much to the consternation of others.

Vegas was, well, Vegas. Lights, shows and extravagance. The desert sun is unbelievably unforgiving. Alcohol feels more dehydating in Vegas than anywhere else. Though Madras Mojitos rank now top in my book :)

Casinos are filled with fat, lazy people, drowsily/drunkenly (however you choose to look at it) clicking on buttons, hypnotized by the flashy lights. They make you think of life without hope, without purpose, devoid of any emotion. Like mindless robots.

Gambling doesn't appeal to me in any way. Money is of no matter. Went to a Vegas style vampire show with girls too skinny for my taste.

Watched a circus performance like no other. Mystere was mind blowingly amazing. I did not know it was humanly possible to contort the body in such ways, nor did it strike me that being fancy pants once in a while would make me smile so.

Best part about the trip, though, was the long bus ride with a tour guide who spouted jokes which were woven tightly into his routine, and the Grand Canyon.

Veeri, Aggie, we need to make this trip. This December. Save up children.

Also, fridge magnets are now my thing.