The Lost Boy

Got a comment that my posts are dead boring nowadays. Now Mr. M, leave this comment on the post rather than trying to make my gung-ho post a post every-so-often morale nose-dive over the phone. I am quite sure the number of readers here does not exceed my lucky number of 4 anyway.

Saw Priscilla - Queen of the desert and Juno today, nice ones both. Saw the Australian outback for the first time in a film I think, and both films had their funny moments.

Finished Anita Desai's novel as well. She made the character of the German Jew in Bombay so real, that I felt like a personal loss at the end of the novel when he died. "Pish-pash", a word I remember from the novel. A dish. It describes some of our lives quite well, I thought. Pish-pash, a mix of everything, and mostly nothing.
Its been weird, the last few weeks, months. Everything is a "maybe", desires are blurred and confusing and emotions are full-on high drama-gear, laughter, smiles, tears, misery, come and go with such furious intensity and rapid frequency, that things feel like a mess sometimes, again, Pish-pash. Exercising control over all this looks a complete necessity, yet feels unnatural.

So, it does finally make sense to me to look inside my spiritual self, as Anu has asked me so often to do. And, so I will. I feel an unusually shaky starter though, surprisingly, in terms of not knowing what to do, where to begin, with these doubts being larger than when I have started on other new paths. But then so is the search itself.

If only only 20% of my thoughts entered my mind at a time rather than the clutter that exists in it, I would have been much better off.