Mirror Dance

I was so tired after a day at the passport office and my internship that I wouldn’t have noticed him if he was crawling up my neck.

I can’t remember what the first signs of him were. I was distracted by the breeze that only grew more soothing the more I sped up. The road was empty and the air was welcome relief from the warmth of the day. But suddenly I felt something on my arm.

I looked but found nothing. Then I felt like something leapt off my neck. In the light from the neon Deccan Herald sign on the opposite lane I realized I was covered in spider webs. When I stopped at a signal I started getting rid of the webs. When I’d finished blindly pawing at the air I realized another motorist had stopped next to me and wore a look of utter confusion. When he realized I was staring back at him, he panicked and sped off ignoring the red light.

It was only when traffic got thicker that I spotted him. Or her. A yellow little thing on my right rear view mirror. I was grateful for the lack of traffic. I was entranced and let it rest on the speed dial all the way home. What can I do but ask if you’ve ever seen a spider dance on glass in the light of streets?

With the vultures

Vultures get a bad rap. They really don’t mean any harm. I haven’t had the time to blog for quiet a while now, internships with newspapers take a surprising amount of time.

Maybe I’m lying to myself, maybe it isn’t just all the work I’m stuck with. I do have a tendency to be nomadic with my interests but I don’t let it worry me. Nomads always stick to trodden paths.

The internship is a funny preoccupation. I’m there because I have to be. I’d say I don’t like them, that they’re a bunch of propagandists but I can’t get myself to do it. They’re nice people honestly. It’s downright bizarre how well they all get along. And scary how pleasant faces can pen dangerous spins.

There are time when I feel like it’s hell. Do well and they give you more work. All day, Sunday to Saturday. Feel too tired to care about bylines really. In the heart of a corporate machine my emotions surprise me. But you do end up enjoying it eventually.

If there’s a memory I fear that’s going to haunt me it’s standing in a dusty hospital in the cities outskirts with other interns grinning about getting a big story, smelling blood and realizing we were there because their blood was our livelihood.

U Word Essays

Underpants, umbrellas, uterus’s, understatements… I’m really starting to wonder if I should dump the current word essay format and write stories about underpants and umbrellas.

These word essays have become a writing journal of sorts and are rather pleasant to work on but they’re starting to make me a little impatient. Write fictions seems more interesting now, but I can’t use the word essay or word story challenge till I’m done with this challenge I’ve. So the stories about flying umbrella wielding mermaids who are out to lay eggs inside the heads of unsuspecting… Maybe I shouldn’t give the story away just yet. And yes my head does have a tendency to come up with disturbing fiction.

Untamed, unspoiled,utopia, uncensored… “U” seems to spend most of it’s time working as a prefix. Do letters feel bad about not have a lot of words that they have exclusive access to? “U” seems like the sad chap who always has to rent his suits. For every usual or umpire there seem to be 40 unclean, uncertain, un-this, un-that.

A lot of words that start from U feel serious in a bad way. Uniform,umpire,undertaker etc. they seem to scream somber. ¬†Utopia- that’s not a happy word, it means happy things but doesn’t seem very happy. It drab and serious in comparisons to Paradise- which seems to leap at you with excitement.

A sort of unsoiled utopia. That’s what the exams would have been if there weren’t so many holidays between each exam, and if the exams started in the morning instead of the afternoon. I would have have just walked in and out, writing about stuff I heard heard through the year and spent the rest of the day at ease.

There’s a species of happy laziness that can’t survive with too much free time, and there’s no way you can “study” for journalism so here I am writing, and speculating about future stories involving flying mermaids.