Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Shaggy big bear comes in my dreams. I'm somewhere in the Rockies. Or are these the Himalayas? I haven't been to the Rockies. Must be the Himalayas. Are there shaggy big bears in the Himalayas? Who am I talking to? What the hell, this is how it works. This stream-of-consciousness thing. This is how Kerouac did it. And all the other Beat Boys. And Girls. Let's call them the Beat People. Life of Pi. The yellow light in my bedroom. At home. In Bombay. Now, I'm meandering. Isn't it allowed in this stream-of-blah blah thingy? What is allowed? The meandering, silly. It is, but not to this extent. What does Bombay have to do with a shaggy brown bear. Shaggy brown bear or shaggy big bear? Same thing. Life of Pi, then. What is the role of historical specificity in alternate histories? Yes, this is an alternate history. Nobody cares about my history, alternate or otherwise. Life of Pi. They're making a film on it. They were shooting in Pondicherry. Ah, Pondicherry. How did we reach Pondicherry? We always reach Pondicherry, no, children? The three-toed sloths. Members of the genus Bradypus and the family Bradypodidae. They're reaching out from the shadows. Ghosts in pale brown. Or is it a woman in pale brown? Women? Dementors, that's what they are. Somewhere, eyes open with a start. Big brown eyes. Whose eyes? Ah, I know. Curtains billowing in the soft breeze. Not Dementors, they're my curtains. Only curtains. Damn, 8:40. Class in ten minutes.


Anonymous said...

Well, I must confess that going by your normally high standards, this post is something of a disappointment. :-)

Moares said...

The Piper on A Gallon of Butterbeer! Honoured indeed.

I tried coming out of my comfort zone. Normally, I try to measure my words. For this, I just let go. No backspacing, no groping for the appropriate adjectives. My attempt at what they'd call "getting raw".

Anonymous said...

Fair enough, once you put it that waya. :-)