2020, so far.

I have been writing this half way, referencing the last post on #GreyMatterSocials as the year came to a close, when it dawned on me: That was just Ten Years gone by! Twenty Years since i’ve launched my first product. And twenty years (next year) after my first expat posting.

I was just walking the halls of the ROM in Toronto (in the year 2008-2010), waiting for dinner to a chic Greek bistro with family, when i altered-reality actually enjoyed myself strolling around the un-explored other world of “if i wasn’t married and didn’t have children, and wasn’t in Trinity.” This was my life if i hadn’t been on that path. Or perhaps, the one where i ate cupcakes in Baked and Wired, in Georgetown, all day long. As i did, when i stayed in Virginia for two months, to claim my 2010 passport - when i renewed it in Washington DC. It was a little chaotic to have thought about the brilliance of the Dr. Strange phenom, where a small green stone permitted you the go-ahead to foresee a seriously-slim-outcome to the “One”, and threw all your probabilities into that one well-timed chance of a lifetime to (not exactly, a “saving-the-world” opportunity) but what could be, actual happiness.

Cranking up the next few entries in this social blog actually becomes a better version of itself.

That is actually harder to make, than to imagine. It happens in one fluid motion, usually in this order:

sitting down in a cafe,
***or making myself tea - if i’m home.
and opening my laptop, as a daily ritual.
(common-place, like everyone else now in the globe…)

And the thoughts just pour on. As if the thoughts needed to get out. And then i just need to un-lazy myself to actually get my fingers to type it. Alexa, type:** “Entry to 2020”….

And it used to be a system of flushing (not the New York kind), but to vent our thoughts in a fluid manner - is cathartic, especially, when done well.

I’ve been blogging in different platforms (or that loosely termed place in the ether, before specific blogging CMS’s were built on top of different OS-es, in the 80s, where Platform meant: the entire interface where your OS can run wild and free among your other inter-operable applications) since about 2006, and i suspect it was all the American genes i ingested when my son was inside of me in 2004. (I’d like to joke but there might be an actual shred of truth in that reality happening - referenced to Lucy’s interspersed hormonal packet of juice that 100%-ed her 10%-capacity-normal brain in a fictional ten days or less). But i think it may have been a mere needing of nods towards mutually founded cycles of thought, as i was getting removed from my origins, and as the change to my modes were getting stronger - “being localised” - rather than being able to retain the amicable features that i actually quite like about myself.

I used to be blonde, and now my un-permeable hair texture retains my black hair as much as i want it more porous to absorb the chemical dyes that lighten it a shade of auburn.

This is what i did. To get over being “localised” to an extreme not me. We sometimes become too complacent in how we are, we forget we had a stretch of the imagination in being “flexible” in our personalities, and retain our traditions, but liberalised in how we approach our interactions with others. I like to think of it as being diplomatic, and getting along - rather than being extruded in some form of superiority complex. (Telling thought though.)

To laugh the very keenly established irony off, i am reading Frock Consciousness (again), from my LRB 2019 stash with my pondicherry carbon-neutral anniversary tote bag (in picture) - but until now, i haven’t really gotten the 2020 order in the post of my Pink one for the Lunar New Year. Some people are better suited for the google-youtube’s influencing “look at all my stuff” set, and i just don’t think i’m ever going to be one of them. Irreversibility of ironic events, are things we can’t help but try to shake off, and in those cases where we can’t - or don’t have the social platform to help ourselves with - the sordidly teemed go shopping.


Alexa, must remember to email a follow-up to PayPal, and issue a quiet little complaint on delivery, or something.


Now read this

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