The Company of Ms. P…

… is desirable and desired, but a rare and much awaited event. Of all the women I have known post-pubescence, she is the one who has intrigued me the most. It is in part due to the circumstances under which we met, but largely due to the way she is. In about the six-eight months I have known her, I might have spoken to her some ten times, met about five, and wondered about a few thousand times. Every time I am anywhere around her, I am sure she figures the obvious awe I am in of her- I almost feel like a school boy in shorts. I think only once have I managed to conduct myself respectably in her presence. On that occasion, I think I was not given a chance to open my mouth as others at the table clamored for her attention. Such is her effect on men… I think Shakespeare said it best:

Age cannot wither, nor
Custom stale. Her infinite variety
Other women cloy.
The appetites they whet
While she makes hungry, where
she satisfies the most

Life can only be good when such meetings with Ms. P occur- like last night. Of course, I think I messed it up again.

I am really happy to get back home early these days. Have burnt about 8 GB of music in the last few days. That’s about 2000 songs. But current favourite – well, TinMan gifted me Shamur. Quite like it. And then I have bought a lot of books too. So go back home, put in a disc, pick up a book and chill... La dolce vita. Till recently, every time I splurged on books I resolved not to buy any more till such time I had read everything that's there in my house. But now I have changed that stance- I tell myself that I shall buy now and read them once I retire. Anyway, with inflation and everything- I should be in the money by the time I get around to reading. The excuses that I think of to justify my weaknesses. Makes one wonder. Currently reading A Pale View of Hills.

Other news- I have been inflicted with a particularly severe attack of Ariboflavinosis. As the name suggests it is caused due to lack of vitamin B but is easily cured. Its most common ailment is an uncomfortable pain that one experiences at the corner of the lips when one yawns. Waiting for it to pass away.


Till then…

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We met, and passed, like shadows. - William Wordsworth(The Excursion)

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