The Spider's Sonnet - Three Quatrains and a Couplet

The Spider’s Sonnet

Tricksy bitsy spider, climbing up the stairs,
It follows in your shadow, pretend that it’s not there,
Scuttling in your footsteps, like a tiny dancing bear,
Simple little spider, it’ll follow you anywhere.

You can feed it jitterbugs, and you can feed it flies,
You can feed it bits of flesh and watch it grow in size,
It doesn’t nag about your job, don’t have to tell no lies,
Waits on the mat till you get home, that’s such a nice surprise.

You lie in bed, the room is dark, you watch your spider leap,
Trailing bits of webs and bugs, like Bo-Peep trails her sheep,
You watch it trot around busily, your thoughts get really deep,
Then you and your spider cuddle up, and off you go to sleep.

What happens next you don’t know, and you’d never expect,
Your spider to be poisonous, and for it to bite your neck.

(And then you die a horribly slow and very painful death.)

It's like that, you know

ENGLISH MADE THE FINALS!!!!!

And once again

!!!!!!

I'd like to believe this was helped along by a cheeky girl who kept heckling numbers two and three of the opposition, constantly expressing a strong desire to marry both of them based on their wobbling tummies.

Also, it's funny how I attend other people's classes more than the ones I actually have. There's a rumour that Tygr might also start taking classes. That should be fun to watch, and heckle if the mood strikes.

I'm doing an awfully good job of pretending to be productive these days. But I will always stay true to my roots, the ones that dictate the core of my lazy fat-assness.

Recently on the ledge.

"Is that birdshit on your hair?"
"It might be." Feels the spot. "I don't think so. I would have sensed it." A pause. "I have a sense."

Things to learn

How to wiggle eyebrows. How to alternate. How to do so without holding one of them down with fingers.

Singing with a convincing imitation of an Irish accent. Scottish is taken.

Jazz-hands.

The art of lying to one's mother. Essential for any believable actor on stage.

Discipline.

Standing on your head.

Cartwheels.


Welcome to DRiP, people.


*jazz-hands*

Book publikcity happened today :)

http://www.telegraphindia.com/1100613/jsp/7days/story_12560122.jsp



and earlier

http://www.livemint.com/2010/05/21224447/Little-Wordsmiths.html?h=B


I feel terribly, terribly ecstatic but I can't jump around because I stayed up till five-thirty writing and that was awesome, but then I had to wake up and teach this kid at ten-thirty. And she looks as bleary as I feel. Sitting side by side now,I'm having coffee, she's having chocolate milk, and she's writing a story about a magician's hat. And look at the weather. Today is clearly going places.


Ooooh, earthquake last night. I want to celebrate having survived, 7.7 IS a big deal.

......

Study leave. Feels like chhuti.

This year's love

Botanical reminiscences, my fond memories of flowering shrubs. Polo polo polo. Meeting-people-at-airport-week. Professors bowling. Haircuts and ripped skirts. A storm and rain and potato chips. Good night.

Sad Pome

Lost in the turnip-red depths of despair
I am depressed, like a wet cat on a stair
as lonesome as a single spot on a chair
as sad as that bald patch in your hair.

I have no time to think, only to cry
If only I could fly away like a horsefly
I would flutter and butter like a pretty butterfly
But all the time, I would still be crying inside.

You will never know, you won't understand
Maybe if you were here, we could just hold hands
But since you're too busy, I'll keep sinking in the sand
Of my only home, the land of the damned.