Belly Button Lint

Where does it all come from? Toejam is bad enough, but belly lint? Why?

Hermits and More

I come from a long line of Hermits. We used to live in the Hermitage, but then the Revolution came and we had to find other accomodation. It wasn't much fun.

So then we moved to Scarborough, Ontario, near Victoria Park and Eglinton Avenues -- it was called "The Golden Mile." We could bowl, buy groceries and see movies. It was heaven.

The previous post was in Hindi

The previous post was in Hindi. It was my mistake. I don't even know Hindi, not that I wouldn't like to learn Hindi.

I'm sitting alone in my apartment, peering up at the sky from time to time, and writing this stuff.

I'm wondering how my friend is faring in Vienna with her son and sister. Hopefully things are going well.

What's with all this blog stuff, eh? I wonder about eloquence and I wonder about the time we take to peer at our own navels. I don't know about you, but navel gazing, while an important pastime in North America, becomes a little tedious after a while. It's like being locked into a room with Cher 'music' being piped in and you can't leave.

No, scratch that. I can stop navel gazing any time I like.

Can't I?

ई मिस हेर

Ennui in The Summer Afternoon

I wish that I were an overfed and pampered housecat lying in the warm sun. A dusty, fat black cat. That would be the life. No worries. No taxes. Just joy, death and disappointment.