Of Finance, craft and animation

Watched a boatload of animated movies this weekend. I forgot how hilarious Finding Nemo was. Anybody remember those crazy surfer dude turtles? I mean, they sure were high on something.

Being ill forces you to stay indoors and in bed. Times like these are when you miss home the most. Even the smallest chores like deciding what food to order felt like a Herculean task. Slept a lot, berated the lack of a thermos flask and a mom to make me some piping hot filter coffee.

Couldn't do anything productive that required any mental/physical strain, so opted to crochet myself a beret. Picked out a nice bright blue yarn, hopefully will get done with it soon, my thumb is getting quite sore and my patience is on it's last legs.

I have early morning customer care calls to look forward to. Damn you Experian for billing me for five months for a subscription I did not take out! And damn me for not figuring it out earlier. I've got to be more fiscally responsible.

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.