Procrastinating, specially if I have some work to deliver, is my most comforting pass time.
For years I've made music my best known excuse, because it's quite interestingly convincing to tell myself that it inspires me to think, which then drives me to write.
So I start my day, just before the date of delivery, with promises I make to myself and setting targets.
Then I set out to write, opening pages, aligning and realigning them to suit my state of mind.
I casually go to my music to surf through my collection, which I also term doodling, and then find a track which goes well with the mood for what I have to write.
I tell myself that I will listen to one track to get myself in with the space I need my head to be with, and go for it. I avoid confronting the truth that the next ten odd tracks are one better than the other and that I haven't heard them for ages.
So while I make myself comfortable on the couch to spend just as much time as it takes for one track to end, my dog Charlie repositions himself somewhere close to me. He knows me better than I admit to myself that I do. He knows now that I am here for a while.
At least an hour.
He knows after one track ends and the next begins, I'm bound to shout out to my maid and ask her to give me a cup of tea.
And he also knows that by the time I'm done with the tea another couple of tracks will have played out.
So now, and hour or sometimes more, are past and I'm deep in my thoughts.
Music makes me either nostalgic or takes me into an unknown world of fantasy, depending on how ancient or comtemporary my choice has been for the moment.
I travel back, or ahead in time. I particularly enjoy going ahead these days for the badgering I've got from some friends about the power of such positive thinking that you can make what you imagine happen.
I go far away from where I should've been to slowly glide myself into work which is lying waiting for me, and at the end of an hour or two realize that I have veered much further away than where I should've been before I had ventured on this little trip of mine.
Now I need to come back, but it's lunch time.
Gosh! I havn't eaten lunch with my daughter for very long, have I?
So Charlie goes wagging his tail to Sandhya, as I call out to her, to put my lunch alongwith my daughter Ritchelles, on the table. (Normally I pick food up in the form of a rolled up chappati with sabzi or dry meat or something and walk around the house pretending to be thinking of what I should write next).
Now I end up having this long lunch with Ritchelle asking her inane questions, which I know are irritating her no end, because, like Charlie, even she knows what I am up. I'm being unnecessarily interfering with her, so I tell her that I just have to get to work now and leave the table.
I go to the wash room through my bed room and as I step out, my bed invites me, and I accept.
Bloody hell, this is crazy, the sun is setting now.
Sandhya is walking around the house shutting windows and turning lights on in the house.
I'd better play this one last track, get into the mood and get down to what I have to. There's only but a few hours left to deliver. This is the nth time I have promised the person to whom I have to deliver my work that he will have it on his desk top when he gets to his office the next morning.
I can't let him down.
I turn on the music. This time it is Techno Trance. The perfect waves of sound which are going to steer me towards where I need to be in my head. Its Tiesto, or its Shiva Shidapu...
Hell... back to back tracks that somtimes run for over an hour each.
Gimme a spliff and here I am, completely ready to write.

Midnight..... :(
I only have the next three to four hours of wake left.
Facebook is going beserk with activity I'm addicted to.
The friends I'm hooked on are waiting online. I'm afraid they'll go offline if I turn my eyes away from the spellings of their names twinkling at me.
It's 2am and I'm angry with myself.
I shut everything out.
I go to the page perfectly aligned and lying waiting for me to paint it with some of my black humor.
I go for it, as I chain smoke, often letting a stick lie on the brim of the ashtray and wear itself out.
It's over.
Done, loaded and sent :)
6am, it is.
Charlie's just woken up and needs to go for a walk.
I don't want to see day break, but he is happy to.
As I crawl into my bed after a cup of tea finally, I swear I will never do this to myself again.
But here I am, this Sunday, doing it all over again.
As Sandhya waddles around shutting windows and turning lights on, I'm writing my blog, another time pass I've found which goes kinda well in a lunatic way, with music.
It's going to be a long night.....


Alisha said… best bud:D

when are we ever going to learn?...makes you wonder na