Saturday, August 23, 2008

MY RIGHT FOOT

So I broke my leg, but it's okey since it's just a ligament tear and my plaster is electric blue in colour. But now I am stuck in my bed all day with lots of books I don't feel like reading anymore and I keep thinking of the the last time I broke my leg and it was great fun, as I was in my bedroom surrounded by nauseating flowers. But the hospital trip was fun as the goddamn heartless Maharashtra cops decided to pull us over for being on a bike with a Delhi number (or maybe because my rescuer was French and all). Anyhow two hours on a wheelchair was fun especially when I was asked to sign a form telling them I was not pregnant.

Now the cast throws my shooting schedule in a tizzy which is very sad because I was damn kicked about shooting my year end film, (there goes the trip to Cannes huh!). What really sucks is my depressing match box of a room which I was going to paint Wizard Blue and Lilac but the paint boxes are lying among all the mess and Shelly has not arrived to sooth my jagged nerves. How I hate loving my friends. I really need to go home now, but I don't fancy some retard steward dragging me all over Customs. I have ideas about sneaking hash in my cast and dogs chasing me while I wheelchair faster away on the runway and then lightning strikes and I part my arms with a devilish smile.

So much for that, I will remain stuck in the matchbox which will look like a smaller matchbox after painting, like the wax one's which were probably designed for the Liliputians but they decided it was too big and dangerous for them and we use it instead. My nickname when I was kid was Liliput but no one calls me that anymore, since I grew up. Oh and this sends my birthday plans next week into a shit pot, with me sitting and watching while everyone gets drunk stupid and I worry about squatting in the loo trying to get all the shit out.

The doctor asked me to be a good girl again and again but didn't give me a lollipop, just a two grand bill. Now I can't be a good girl because I keep dragging my two kilogram heavier leg all over the campus, and I get kicks out of imagining myself to be a ghost that haunts the long dark corridoor when everyone is asleep with the sound of my dragging foot rattling them in their beds. But that doesn't happen really.

But I can see the bright side of the shit. Say like I don't have to worry about food and cigarettes, someone or the other keeps fetching them for me. Also, I can keep staring into oblivion and cook up new stories to shoot.

What I really miss is working. I would love to get back on freelance projects, writing an article here and there. I miss getting published and boy do I need the money now. Also, I miss being surrounded with my old Delhi friends, them fussing over me and imagine all that extra fuss with me having a broken foot. I would have been chauffered around to all my favourite eateries and I might have even convinced them to take me clubbing. I wouldn't have danced obviously. Not that my friends here aren't fussing enough, I just don't like being dependent on them, because I haven't known them for more than six months. The bike rides are fun though. Also all the online games I disovered last night, quite trippy they are.

Just found out I could have gone to Maldives to shoot, for a project my sister-in-law is working for, and their film guy left. But for my electric blue leg, Looks like the laughing Buddha I got is not working hard enough for my luck.