I was talking about this, rather i have talked a few many times than it should have been thought or spoken about. It is about my light purple couch and me. We have a love and hate relationship. I sit on it in the evenings when i am back and i blame it for the inactivity in the last evening. It is simply an endless cycle...like everything else.

Life is a cluster of infatuations, and the couch at the moment is one, and i am simply not yet satiated.

I come here in the evenings, and perform the daily web, carbon emitting rituals, by searching google for the world smallest economy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niue) and pitying my account balance at the same time. I dream of myself (at times ) of being the poster boy of my family (for which one has to be a optimal hypocrite no matter what your background is ) and at times breaking every norm set (for which one has to be a optimal hypocrite no matter who you are ). It is completely incredible that one says that one is driven by his own passions and commitments when most of them are set by the times that one lives in. Every motion, stinging nose hairs, sweating eyelids are simply grains filling up the remaining time. They are controlled by precisely randomly timed infatuations of animated beings.

If everything is so pointless, then just make it more 'cheerful pointless'. Back to the couch.