But it's complicated!!!
8 p.m some day - The final leap edging the pro's fist by two fingers on the fissure had its pat-on-the-back, a log sheet of mind over matter and a pile of supportive suggestions dropped over my head by the blond instructor.
3 p.m on the weekend field - "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!!!" and the stolen 'bye' of the fumbled first slip off the very first ball, a six of the very next over, God-speed pushing between the wickets, a few more chaos induced on the minds of the equally talented opponents, an hour's work of seniority gave a final belief that possible impossibles are the true miracles in life.
2 a.m. on the steel roads - a ear to hear, a mouth of memories, a batallion of pollen, a chapter of the book, and a dream of the one eyed mute carved the fear of hope.
1 a.m on the wretched Friday night - 4:19 minutes of Blazin dozen wings, a vision of the candles, pool, and a quizzical game, 4 liquid cocaines, 3 tequilas, 2 three wisemen, 2 draughts of Heineken, a response high of zipped lips and a rapid-chess victory, good food of self-mastered hyderabadi biryani, and a morning of non-dehydrated simplicity undermined my expectations of a second attempt to craze out at high state.
12:30 a.m. on a self-cursing Saturday night - A 8 people tag team push into the melonfest'ed Deja-vu on a self-contemplating walk, a fourth time strip club experience extending a little over two hours due to the first time non-designated driver details, a couple of dancers hitting on the only 'zero-lap-dance in all 4 strip club experiences' from $5 to free, a chivalrous offer of drinks to the semi-nude ladies proving the gravity of mindset, the octaves ogling on the sudden gathering of semi-nudes at the conclusion of melonfest, octave leaders eventual notice on my zero count dances, $75 walleted out of the remaining octaves and there I was picked, carried and dropped for my first ever lap dance - which turned out to be 5 girls at a time for two consecutive songs. An awkward situation of the new touch-phone vibrating as the caucasian girl danced, a later look at the call history showed dad's cell, a friendly chat of the night to dad (alone), and an eventual walk on the steel roads for the lost opportunity from the fidgeted phone early in the day plugged my sleep.
2 p.m today - Ketu Marshall's call asking me to help in his creativity. An one hour hurried up wake up of all coopers, the team's arrival, a look at the $4000 profitable Crown Victoria, an initial volume to count calculation, an experimental trial of 10 guys in the front seats, a sweaty rehersal of 10 more in the back seat, Moti's bf's positive attitude to suffocate for a cause, and a final push of 18 guys of all sizes into the 6 seater crown victoria soon to be added and to be spread via youtube sung the happy moments of a students life.
Minutes before - I, noticing the word A$$hole from the ever good Huggy Bear proving the disappoinment of not making into Div I coz of a partialized result from another games result, half a dozen calls of broken hearts from hard fought team mates, finally settled into my last season of cricket bidding feelings.
Many a thing happened in a short span of a few ten days. While most proved to be interesting, exciting, happening, and changing, a few guiled its way to the mindless original heart. But, in these few days and a month of interesting life, the one feeling that ebbs deep down the vast chasm of solitude is the success to prove that I am failing to achieve goals in all areas of life, at least to myself!!! Guess 'disappoinment' is the guised 'fear' of life.
(Funny, the background soundtrack of Life is beautiful (But it's complicated) from Sister's Keeper keeps coming every now and then after this)
There is a certain sense of blankness filling the void of disappoinment!!! Is it good temporarily or is it bad permanently?