January One

It’s been a bleak sort of beginning to the year, Zonk. A long, long party that left me feeling old and slightly annoyed, a bit of nice shopping, and a movie that made me want to tear out my hair. This, over the past three days. And here I am now on a bean bag on my office floor, typing out a post.

The first post of the whole year. It’s a thing that should have excited me – but I feel old. Older than I want to be. And everything feels stale.

The problem with this new year, Zonk, is that nothing feels new at all.I’m going to stay home next new year with my mom, and watch TV and eat pav bhaji and read a book and sleep by one. Bringing the new year in with a bang is highly overrated.

We are all just growing older anyway.

Happy new year, Zonk. I hope your new year feels nicer than mine.

Love always,
K.

PS: I painted on January One, by the way. It made me feel nice for a while.

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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