Dear Zonk,

I have a theory about friends and life and major life events.

Things happen in seasons. When you have a bunch of people you’re really close to, the graphs of your lives start to sync up. If someone in your circle starts out on a new relationship, chances are that someone else will be starting one too. That’s Hookup Season. A much more common phenomenon — sadly — is Breakup season. If one couple breaks up, brace yourselves and squint up your eyes. Someone else is gonna be going down soon. At least, that’s what I’ve seen in my own circles.

I’ve always believed this to be true about such things. But lately, a newer, fainter pattern has begun to emerge. I’ve begun to notice that it’s not just life events that happen in seasons — entire moods come in seasons too. We tend to be happy together, and sad together, and anxious together, and fuck-this-shit-I-quit together. Or maybe it’s only true this one time, and will never occur with such simultaneity again. But this is where we’re at right now. Right now our season is Blue. 

Not a bittersweet, translucent blue, either. This one’s a heavy, stormy swirl of inky blackish-blue. The kind that drops down your throat and lodges itself in your gut and stains you from the inside out and makes it hard to get out of bed in the mornings.

You know.

I wish we could skip this part, Zonk. I wish we could fast forward too where we’re done dealing with whatever it is that’s sapping the strength out of us. I wish we could go to bed tonight and wake up in a timeline where everything’s all figured out and sorted and we’re the happiest versions of ourselves that we could be. But we can’t. I guess we just need to wait it out. A happier season will roll around soon.

But for now, I’m sorry all this shit is happening, Zonk. To you, you, you, you and you. That’s one ‘you’ for each one of you that’s dealing with more than they can handle tonight. And me, I’ll be the 6th ‘you’.

Oh well.  We’ll be okay soon.

I feel it in my bones.


Love always,


4 good things.

Dear Zonk,

Sometimes, when you look out and down from the 23rd floor, the rain seems to fall in slow motion.

In my office, there’s a patch of almost-grass that feels very real. And if you sit on it and work, nobody sees you.

Upstairs, there are beanbags, and beds. They brought our old guitar in today. And I sat there by the beanbags and played softly for about an hour and nobody noticed.

These are some of the things I like about life at where I am right now. These, and the view. The view is simply breathtaking.

There are also things I don’t like. But let’s not talk tonight about those. We speak so seldom anyway…

I swear someday I’ll change that.

Love always,



Dear Zonk,

It’s cold today. And I slept too much in the afternoon and woke up into the wrong end of the day. Now that is always a cause for sadness.

I wish you lived 5 minutes away, so I could walk over right now and stand under your window and crane my head up and yell for you and feel instantly less blue.


And so it is.


I’m in the bus right now, and when I look out I can see into the back of a car. There’s a small stuffed bear in this car, with all its parts labeled. Hand. Tummy. Ear.

Sleeping on my bed at home is a big floppy stuffed dog that I once got for my sister. Stitched into its side is an orange patch shaped like a bone, and on it, the word “dog”.

A lot of my nephew’s toys are like this. It reminds me of crayons in boxes. Simple and labeled and separate. And it makes me wonder why and at what point the labels disappear. I’m older now, and wiser, and I can name all the parts of a stuffed bear’s body. But I’d like some help with the rest of life. You know? It’s a strange and unfamiliar journey and I’d like some signposts along the way.
Glory Days. Heartbreak. Poverty Ahead. Bad Decision. Just Another Wednesday. And so on.

Where have all the labels gone? I want stickers pasted all over life with names and warnings and everything. I demand a massive signboard that proclaims, in large and friendly letters: Don’t Panic.

Bit players.

Dear Zonk,

People are getting married and quitting jobs and moving away, and I don’t like it at all. My sister’s married and moved out now; Niha will be married this week; C is making major changes and Ila leaves for Canada on the 18th.

I don’t like change, Zonk. I don’t like that growing up means losing people to social status changes and soul searching and geography. I don’t like that moving forward means leaving things behind. I don’t like that I can’t stand the thought of leaving and that, ergo, I am a thing that’s left behind.

Life is an inexplicably unfair and difficult thing, every way you look at it. A tragicomedy of massive proportions and we’re all just extras on the set,blustering through our bits with no idea of how the script goes.

I don’t like when people leave Zonk. And I don’t like to be reminded that no matter how we fill our days, we’re all just truly alone.

Love always,

PS: Don’t leave. Okay? I like to think that this thing we have here is permanent and unchanging.