Dei, I'm no Superman.
Dei,
Sabotage is playing the next episode. It is washing a clean floor. It sounds like someone else talking at length about a topic that begs no attention. It smells of banana muffins for the next three days. Sabotage creeps into bones of fingers when switching to another tab, clicking a video before the nail biting begins. It suffocates the air. It tastes like shards of aluminium foil that refuses to separate from a takeaway burrito. It stares at the clock. Sabotage is someone else, another time. It is waiting for nothing to arrive.
May the ice cube tray be filled prior to your needs,
Melizarani
On repeat this week
Where were you when ‘Scrubs’ was playing on TV. I was 14 years old, listening to Simple Plan on a pirated cassette. Pausing it momentarily for the theme song. It was an era of chart-topping one hit wonder moody alternative rock songs searching for meaning amidst the nothingness, all set to a familiar drawl. We were overwhelmed and learnt to make art out of it. Here is Lazlo Bane comforting the weary kid that grew up into a worn out adult.
My father said
“Don’t pull yourself down. Don’t let the jinx come in. Just submit it.”