Small joys for Rum Lola Rum

 

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Hello,

So this is my website (haw — never thought I’d say this) but you are now at rumlolarum.com. Bought a damn domain to celebrate 300 posts. It’s a Valentine gift to myself.

I believe I have withdrawal symptoms and worry that I will never be able to write again without the soft pinkish comfort of my older Adelle theme. It must be why I struggled for two days looking for a theme before landing on this one. It’s not as good as my old one but it reminds me of home.

This month has been weirdly good. Meta 2018 will officially be over in a day and I’m already looking forward to the next edition. I am not half as tired as I usually am during Feb but maybe that’s a lesson. If all Metas are like each other, how will I remember the years?

There are more reasons for why this month has been weirdly good. Ever since I interviewed writers Praveen Kumar and Manjunayak, I have been itching to write. Praveen Kumar put my laziness, self-pity, insecurity and everything else to shame when I asked him how he sustains writing. He simply said – Bitkodbaardu. Don’t surrender.

M said that’s how people ride in Bangalore Traffic and I laughed like 600 flower pots breaking on terracotta tiles.

Something changed after that interview. I have been able to wake up at 5:30 since then, to write. And I am surprised by how much I like it. I look forward to it with a delicious anxiety every night before going to sleep —  like I’m getting dressed to meet a new love.

 

 

 

 

I don’t always write though. I go out – watch the sky go from dark blue to light blue to vanilla white. I sneak into the kitchen to make Elaichi chai and then sneak out to crush said Elaichi pods softly because house is still asleep. The Brahmin house next door is up obviously. Their steps and garden already smelling like rain.

Discovering mornings has been the best thing to have happened to me. As David Bowie says it here

Posting an excerpt here from that gorg interview:

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Reading.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Discovering morning.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Talent.

What is your greatest regret?
That I never wore bellbottoms.

What is your current state of mind?
Pregnant.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Living in fear.

Current mood – A little happy and very yawn.

Current music – Juno

It’s all I am leaving you with today. And, this. Read, smile, love, sleep. Repeat. G’night.

 

The month that was

Saturday was a fun day. I watched Delicacy with my students and liked it more this time. Later, we watched a stage portrait of Einstein in the college auditorium. I sat in the front row which may have, just may have, made me like the play more. A shortish review to come soon. After the play, I came back to the department and stalked a blogger I thought I had forgotten.

I remember feeling super impressed and a little jealous when I first read her blog. That whole design is hers and I learnt a lot from my stalking- sessions. I learnt about widgets, colors and themes, copyright on the blogosphere, disabling copy -paste through CSS and the likes.

She writes regularly and I can say she’s guilty when she doesn’t. I pay more attention to design, lists and posts that are part of weekly/monthly challenges on her blog. This is who I now turn to when I am running out of things to write. She has a post up almost everyday. There are quotes, lists, and pictures for days that she hasn’t written.

That kind of investment is all kinds of enviable. I also find that I need to stop feeling foolish about wanting to decorate my blog. There’s something so welcom-y about her blog. She does these reviews of months that I am fascinated by and want to try. I have nothing pressingly aggravating in my life that I want to protect as of now. So there you go, November was helpful.

  1. I went to Goa and Hyderabad. Goa reminded me that I should travel more often and Hyderabad reminded me to write more papers and attend more conferences — I loved the whole experience of being on my own in a university campus. I have now also understood the beauty of web-checking in.
  2. November also meant waking up to a fresh semester. Half a month has gone by and I have come to learn that there’s an odd sense of calm when only the students who are interested are sitting in your class. Sin Drama.
  3. November has been tight, money wise which meant that I made frequent trips to the bank. But I think I am getting better at managing money.
  4. The Reading Room met to discuss Rebecca. Our next book is The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. I have only read three pages so far but I can already get a Madame Bovary- reading feel from it so, yay.
  5. I spent the last weekend in November watching various films. I am getting back to a decent movie-watching zone. I watched Coco before Chanel, Delicacy, and Deconstructing Harry.
  6. I love Woody Allen. He is God.
  7. I spent more time at home than I usually do. Eliminated 3/4 of the drama from my life.

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Sex without love and other impossibilities

All of today has been productive. I wish I live everyday with the same fervor as today. Although said fervor came from stalking women and their blogs. Anyway, one such stalking hour took me to this poem which has made me see sense – a solution to my needless self pitying sprees.

I found the poem on a blog I had been stalking all morning like a hungry cat. 

Sex Without Love by Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other’s bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health–just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.
 

The poem hit me hard where I needed to be hit properly and immediately. I was slipping into my obnoxious self – a past that I don’t want to be in, a present that is reluctant to promise and a future that thrills me just as much as it scares me. All morning I was in deep slumber – inspired in part by my need for pillow talk and in part by my obsession with knowing – answers and clarifications to my doubts and insecurities. This odd bit of truth lay it all to rest in one fitting swoop.

‘They do not mistake the lover for their own pleasure’ drove home the point. My only hope now is to wake up as the same  person that is so much at peace and in love with herself today.