At six fifteen every morning, I sneak up near ma's room every morning so I can jump at her as she stumbles sleepily out of her room and shouts 'Pishaash Kutti!!!' at me (meaning 'ghost child' in Tamil), my mother's chosen language at vulnerable situations. Mine of course is Hindi. In times of extreme happiness and sadness I cannot articulate in any other. I do feel like a pishaash kutti though. It's going to be eight in the morning and I'm in a familiar situation. In bed trying to sleep but imagining myself on the Conan O'Brien show instead saying meaningful things and thanking my friends and then leaving to drink beer with The Strokes like in this song. 

Maybe this is a prophecy to an impending future of glory or....not.  

I like Conan way more than Jay Leno though. 
Fabrizio moretti is so yummy dude.

I have spent the last some hours jumping around to an Incubus concert in my room while trying to read Shakespeare.
Also, the 'usne bola kemchhe kemchhe kemchhe' song has been playing in my head ALL FREAKIN WEEK. "Neend nahin aati hai raaton mein!". There's problems even Govinda can't solve. 


I need to get some damn sleep because my life is not written by Chuck Palahniuk.

And if these pigeons don't stop doing it in my AC I will shoot them through their non- existent brains.