Ho Hum
i do not have chicken pox anymore. i m cured. Just thought i'd mention it. In case you were worried and concerned. In fact, i can picture you now; pacing around in your room in restless agitation, worried sick, perhaps feeling the pain (or itch, rather) that i had to suffer and wishing that you could somehow do something to help a soul so pure and noble as ...well, mine. Do not fret. It is over. Except some bloody spots that stubbornly persist and insist on making me look like a polka dotted greek god. (when i mentioned this to some of my friends, they nearly had convulsions they were laughing so hard. Ah-hah, i smiled knowingly, u like the polka dotted joke huh? No, they said, we were just imagining the shock the greek gods must have suffered if they heard you. i cannot bring myself to repeat the various other observations they went on to make regarding my physicality. When i say that "hes more like a spotted anorexic baboon with a growth hormone disorder" was perhaps the least offensive, you will realise what i had to deal with. And i call them my friends...)
But thats not the point, i was saying something else......what was it now? Oh yes, i am cured. And i would have proclaimed my return to health earlier to put you out of your misery and ease your wearied, tortured minds, but i had....have exams. Yes, i know what you are thinking. From the melting pot and into the fire. Exactly. But such is life. It is as if some particularly sneaky, twisted mind is up there controlling our lives and deriving particular pleasure in rubbing our faces in the mud and generally goading us in the direction of doom and desolation. A bit on the dark and gloomy side this outlook, i agree but this is what exams do to me. The strain of focussing my considerable mental resources on a single subject for too long makes me irritable and prone to look at the grimmer side of things. Imagine having to drive a ferrari or a lamborgini at no more than 20 km/hr and in a straight never-ending line and you have a rough idea of what i mean. Prolonged exposure to this sort of stress may result in making you want to tear your hair out, death (when you see yourself in the mirror after passing through the first symptom) or worse, a permanent blunting and dulling of your mind (not to mention a very unbecoming head with a scarred scalp.) And once that happens, the blunting and dulling, i mean, existence loses its point. You might as well go study and get a job or something. You may even end up, and i shudder to even think of anyone unfortunate enough to suffer this inhuman fate, having to work.
And the really pippy part is the inevitably of it all. You may fight against it (as me and my comrades have been doing all our lives) but in the end it doesnt even matter. Every moment u fight against it you are once step closer to the edge and you cannot break this habit tonight. You become so numb and you feel a crawling in your skin and......Sorry, i sort of got carried away but you have to admit that old Chester knew what he was talking about. (Footnote One. Well, actually, it just occurred to me and you too, will no doubt observe, that this is not a footnote in the truest sense of the term, since it does not appear at the foot but rather in the body of the note. So, to correct my earlier error, Bodynote One- Trivia: did u know that linkin park actually wanted to call themselves 'Lincoln Park' but didnt get the rights to use the name? No? Well stick around me and you will be rewarded with countless such valuable nuggets of information... or you could just read wiki; but then you will be missing out on my delightfully charming and witty company, which would be a tremendous shame.) (Bodynote Two. i may be starting some new form of literary referencing technique here with the bodynotes and you are the first ones to experience it. Feel the moment for it is historic. But coming back to the bodynote - linkin park is not really my favourite band in case you got the idea that i was crazy about them. Not even in the top 10 of my favourite bands in fact. i prefer other cooler and more obscure, underground type bands that you have never heard of. Always remember that you judge the prowess of a music aficionado by the number of obscure, unknown bands he worships. The lesser the number of people who have heard of the band (let alone hearing the band itself (this, by the way, is a note within a note, an in-bodynote if you will. Yet another innovation. i m on a roll)) the cooler and hipper it is, to be their die-hard fan. Incidentally, i was once in a band myself and now often name my band in my list of top class musicians. Since no one knows we ever existed, most believe that it is some kickass swedish alt rock outfit. Unfortunately, when i do run into the people unlucky enough to have witnessed our gigs (i use the term loosely stretching it into non-musical territory) i get the "i think i have heard this band... this musical monstrosity, rather... you speak of and i thought they were pathe....hey, havent i seen you somewhere before?'' look. After that, the conversation usually sags a bit and i have to make a quick getaway making a mental note to steer clear of the person henceforth. By the by, have u noticed the size of this footnote? Quite humongous. Some of my friends in college pride themselves on the size of the footnotes in their projects. Male machismo, i tell you, always obsessed about the size of this and that. But i m drifting again and i guess i should get back to the body and end the bodynote. Hey, that had a poetic timbre to it, did u feel it? Like a poignant call of the wind urging you to return home. No? Well, its just me then.) and ))) for good measure in case i forgot to close any in-bodynotes in between.
Now you have really made me lose track. Wait i have to scroll back up to see where i stopped.
Ah yes, exams. Have you ever noticed the weird ways in which time flow changes during these times of upheaval? One moment it drags along like a particularly ancient turtle on sedatives, almost going backwards; and the next it whizzes past before you can say, "what the ....". These fluctuations are most fluctuative the night before the exam. It starts out all normal-like as you sit at the table and discover books and articles in your bag you had never set eyes upon before but suddenly, without any warning, this tremendous acceleration lurches you forward through the space-time continuum and you are staring at the question paper with red rimmed, sleep deprived eyes. And then it slows down to a snails pace again so that the end seems light years away. i believe that there are scientists who have dedicated their lives to studying the whims of the perceived fourth dimension, but the going is tough. Apparently, they spend 10 years time working every single day and 10 seconds time home every single night. Time likes it little games. And you might think that the fact that every abominable attack upon free will and independent spirit, like exams, is bound to end at some point, should give us hope; but you are wrong. Its just a mirage, my friend. Lulling you into a false sense of security before the next, and possibly fatal, strike. You may not believe me and you may scorn the wisdom of my words but you do so at you peril. Just make sure you tell everyone that i warned you against it so that once you are incinerated and destroyed they realise what a fool you are and how astoundingly brilliant i am. One does not like to blow ones own trumpet and parade these victories by ones ownself. Besides i feel it is crude to rub it in gloatingly when you have been proven right and are at an advantage. Much more subtle to just smile and sigh "if only you had listened....".
Which brings me to then end of what i had to say. See. This is what i was talking about. Slow woozy ramblings and then a sudden wham! and the end. Time flies, o reader, time flies. And like everything else this is just a temporary respite. See if you survive the next surge. (Bodynote, i m really beginning to like this bodynote thing. Gives you tremendous flexibility in essaying multiple musings. Useless of course for lesser gifted individuals, whose minds run on single track thoughts, but there you are....so as i was saying, Bodynote (i have lost track of the number) No pun or innuendo of any kind is to be inferred from the last sentence).
P.S. - A prize is on offer for any person who successfully reads this entire "piece" from beginning to end and finds a common thread of thought running through it for more than five lines. Winners to be decided by a pop quiz. (PostScriptnote - note how i have mentioned the prize at the very end, so that only those who do indeed read till the end would be aware of it. Devilishly ingenious, if i say so myself. Of course, you will get some low-lifes scrolling to the bottom without reading but they will have to read it again then wouldnt they? Hah.)