The need to call…

23Feb08

Watching Fightclub can be so disastrous at times… the degree varying from mildly bent to raving lunacy. If there was a word ever needed to be put in for ‘inviting trouble big time intentionally, the intended being the self or others’, then ‘Fightclub’ could perhaps be the right word for it.

Alone… Nobody you can call without giving out explanations. They always expect you to hand out information on a platter. What if you just felt the need to talk to someone? And talking to people you know doesn’t help. And talking to people you don’t know is of no use either. The someone has to somebody who knows a little of you and you don’t know a lot of him/her. Only in this handicapped position of  awkward familiarity can conversations be perhaps truly cherished. The anticipation of discovery, the abruptness of occasional disappointments and the absence of obligatory niceties should make the experience worthwhile. All these numbers on your contact list, and you can’t even call up somebody… to let it all out. It’s not being very gentlemanly, wanting to subject some unsuspecting soul to an incoherent rant, but even rantings can be turned onto the duplex mode if the opposite party is willing enough.  After going twice over your contact list, you begin to think of that mate in school with who you had spent a year of those ten years and not cared to keep in touch. All those little careless inactions suddenly surge over you leaving you drenched. All wet and disappointed you try hard to meet somebody who you could talk to, not just rant about but in a general way, wishing boredom away. Watching Allen, reading Heller, listening to Poets of the Fall, playing Hotel California  and sleeping off work surely, but not at all times. Somedays, the times demand a conversation. One of like Caulfield and the whore or like in Train to Pakistan or like Before Sunrise or like the million others which never really took place and which  you were not a part of. So you just write out a stupid diction of your thoughts and post it on the net hoping that some generous soul would someday take the trouble of calling you up in your hour of need.

295 contacts on the list. Need to put in a few callable ones before the memory runs out.

Filed under: Boredom, Crap, Experiences, General, Longings, More Crap, Movies, Still more Crap, Uncategorized   |  
Tags: Contacts, Fightclub, Rantings