“All good books are alike in a way that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.”
― Ernest Hemingway
Do you even know? – That echo that brings fire in my eyes.
What I resent most in my life is the feeling that you are good for nothing. The feeling that comes from people when they make you realize that they are a way better than you and you feel that you don’t exist. Your existence is as mere as a worm in the gutter.
Do you even know? Do you even know? This always echoes in my head and my life kind of pauses for a while to listen to the dramatic repetition of these words in my head.
And to that I would want to say, “More than you will ever know you fuck face!”, but then my position on the ladder prevents me from doing so and I confirm to myself that one day I will and you will too.
Looking down on people is the worst thing you can do in your life. I would never do that to anybody and if I ever do that, this echo will come haunting me again “Do you even know?”
From now on I am going to count how many times she demeans me in a day.
EUROPEAN THEMED LUNCHBOXES
See, What i found here:
Ok, so it’s not quite Around the World in 80 Days – more like around a bit of Europe in a week’s lunch boxes, but I had fun making them and more importantly Ruby enjoyed eating them.
I know I’m really lucky in that she’s not really a fussy eater, but there’s no harm in pushing her palate further and we’ve found this to be a great way to introduce new foods.
These lunches were inspired by a new cookie cutter I bought recently – the GB outline. I admit, I have a problem with cookie cutters, I can’t stop buying them.
Then things just progressed, and most of the others needed no special equipment.
I know some of this may seem extravagant for a child’s lunchbox, but honestly, the basis for most of them was leftovers from our dinner the night before.
Great British Lunch:
- Cucumber sandwich
- English smoked cheese
- Mini Yorkshire puddings and roast beef (leftover from Sunday dinner)
- Scone with jam
- Strawberries
The little toppers were leftover from a cake case set I bought from Poundland at Jubilee.
French Lunch:
- Mini croissants
- Brie
- Cornichons (as Ruby likes to call them because she’s well posh – to you and I they’re gherkins)
- Grapes
- Lemon tart (leftover from pudding the night before)
- Fromage Frais
The toppers are easy to make – Google the flag image, print and cut out and glue onto a cocktail stick
Spanish Lunch
- Spanish omlette (leftover from my dinner the night before and made with assorted bits from the fridge)
- Slices of chorizo
- Olives
- Churros
- Nutella chocolate spread to dip
- Strawberries
Italian Lunch:
- Slice of pizza (leftover from dinner – I added some extra veg in the form of frozen sweetcorn!)
- Salami
- Amaretti biscuit (she was honoured to get one of these from my stash!)
- Grapes
Swedish Lunch:
- Rye bread
- Cheese
- Hard boiled egg
- Smoked salmon (leftover from dinner)
- Cucumber
- Homemade ginger biscuits
- Orange slices
Happily she came home with an empty lunch box and a full tummy every day. The only thing from the whole week that she didn’t eat was the Spanish Omelette and that was totally my fault – I didn’t hide the onions well enough! But she took a bite and tried it and that’s all I can ask.
Have you tried themed lunches? Any of these you fancy? I wished I’d made a Spanish one for myself too!
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A man’s soliloque
I am a married man.
My wife is beautiful and an independent woman.
We don’t have any kids because neither of us covet for children.
We are those city people who constantly dwindle between work and home. Precisely! We long for goodwill of life.
I hardly see my wife’s face,not even on weekends. I’ve started to forget the brim of her chin but I still remember her dark forest eyes.
She is a travel journalist and her job pays her to travel. I’ve always fascinated her job more than fascination, I envy her life of a wayfarer. Ironically, she is one of those people who posses a severe pedantic attitude towards work. She plans and executes everything but she landed in a job where detailing on minor things are not considered important. She utterly disliked it at first but now she seems delighted.
She writes to me from her extravagant trips and when she is back from all her travelling, we go out for an exquisite candle light dinner.
I hate candle light dinners, if it was in my hand to kill that romantic skunk who invented it, I would have killed him without a second thought. I can say a simple ‘no’ to my wife because she is aware of my dislikes better than my likes and my denial won’t bother her much. But somewhere a part of my heart refuses to see her bright twinkling eyes turning into a dull night bulb. She never makes a fuss, we hardly had fights in our 2 years of marital life.
Sometimes when I think that I am married, I feel this funny churn in my stomach and then yet I am relieved that I haven’t had any kids from my marriage. It would be a very difficult comprehension if somebody will try to break down how a person like me ever ‘fit in’ with a lifestyle that needs steadiness. Even on the day of my wedding my friends and who ever knew me had it hard to believe that I was the one who was getting married. They thought that I am playing a random prank with them. When I finally kissed my wife in front of their eyes, they said that I will break it after a month. Of course! I did not. They still call me and first question they ask me “Hey! Are you still married?”. Does this all sound like a man who never wanted to get married and was forced to tie a knot? No! I am not good under pressure. I did all of this myself.
I am a happy, contented man but yes! I won’t feel any regret if I say that I was happiest and I have always been happiest before few years. I am happy now. I could have changed my happy life to happiest in a blink of eye but on a weird note I like it. Perhaps I have never lived my life like this. I was a notorious pig. I got drunk, threw up on my date and passed out in a clubs lobby. I was arrested for smoking weed on a public place. I’ve got into huge gang fights at one point of my life. One night I wanted to get drunk, seeing the sunrise so I drove with my friend to the highest point of a cliff, entire night. When I reached there it was 3 already, we both cheered, got drunk at the cliff and passed out before the sunrise. In a nutshell, I was a huge disaster to the conservative class and an extreme case of psychopath. In the slang language, I was a complete badass.
I think , I am being too egoist here. It’s not about how a particular event in my life brought graceful revival to my insolent, undignified life and I turned from a brash devil to civil household man. It’s not about my love affair, Good! God.. I hate romance and it’s definitely, as the introduction of a chapter states, not a mystery, thriller or a crime. I just talked about myself so much because it’s too hard for me to not to talk ‘myself’. I have a particular degree of obsession with myself and I enjoy it. Besides, this story is about the tragedy of my death. This is even harder than I thought; I am too self-centered to write something about someone else, definitely not a book. But this is something apart from my egocentric issues I would love to talk about.
This is the story of a life. Yes! It’s not about a person, a dog or about the epitome of pursuit of happiness. Well! It’s kind of close to the last part. It’s about a life where you get the meaning of living. Where you die as a martyr even when you are not from the army background.
Kalki Koechlin’s Monolgue
If it doesn’t stop your heart from beating, If it doesn’t explode your goosebumps, if it doesnt numb you, if it doesn’t thrill your entire existence then my dearest, I have nothing to say to you. Just don’t let me know about your existence ever.
My Dearly Beloved Sisters, We are statutory Rapist.
Oh! Yes..If you live in India then you my dear lady is the sole cause of rape and you are entirely responsible for this heinous crime.
Awesoming Since 1991 