55Friday: The “Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” edition

Oh my. Usually, at this moment, I’m sitting in bed dumbfounded because it’s 3am on what I still consider Thursday (midnight never felt like a commencement, to me). Where were we? Oh yes. I was imagining where I normally type this post from– my bed, in front of Degrassi vintage, with the sound off. I’d be staring off in to space, concomitantly shocked and agog because yes, it’s ALREADY time to write and read nanofiction where does the time go blah blah blah.

But TODAY. Today, I am not doing that. Today, I am in California, in my Mother’s new home, where there is no nimble cable modem. There is no DSL. There isn’t even a local phone line hooked up yet, for me to try…(gag) DIAL-UP. So what could I do? I grimly did what I had to: I went, in search of the interweb.

Kinko’s? Closed. What kind of a Kinko’s CLOSES? Seriously! This blows, because I was quite fond of using “Kinko’s” as a synonym for “24 hours”. Beyond that tiny language tragedy, everywhere else? Um, this is the suburbs, so there IS no everywhere else to try. So get this– I’m borrowing wireless from my fave indie coffee place, because lucky for me (AND YOU) they didn’t switch it off like they usually do when they CLOSE.

I’m in a rainy parking lot, typing like a freak, the iBook’s brightness turning my face a not very divine shade of blue. Why? Because I love you and I love this weekly thing we do. When I commit, I commit. After we had moved the last few boxes to the new house, my mother was aghast when I told her during a dinner we were both to tired to eat, that I’d need to have a nocturnal adventure, in search of the net.

“But internet is coming tomorrow. Noon, I made an appointment with the phone company. Can’t it wait? Your friends will understand?”

“My FRIENDS (read: co-bloggers) will. My readers will be disappointed. Besides, I started this, so I have no excuse. Phone lines or not, the mutiny must go on.”

She nodded somberly at me and told me to try not to get lost. If you were previously unaware, I have the coolest Mother EVER. That doesn’t mean she isn’t strict– if I had said that I felt like going out for a martini, HA. If I had said that I felt like a movie, no dice. But stating that I needed…to…blog? Moms has her priorities straight, yo. ;) And there, boys and girls, you have it. No customary Friday55 yammering. Just a story about how I will do almost anything to come through for a cause that I lurve, ‘specially when that cause is writing. My weekly dates with you have become precious to me; when the struggle takes its toll and I think of how it would be so easy to quit, to yield to the dark side…I remember “55″ and suddenly, I can pick myself up and fight another day. ;)

Tomorrow (read: in a few hours, when I wake up, get coffee and it’s 5pm on the east coast) I’ll update this post with my picks for the three best 55s of last week. When I do so, I hope to read all your new, juicy examples of nanofiction, since there will be sooo many of them, thanks to the time difference (WesssSaaeeed!)

Oh yeah, almost forgot! Theme? Theme. It worked splendidly last week. How about this one, for today: doing something illicit. Forbidden. Dangerous. You know, like me, right now, since the owner of the cafe has been watching me for the last ten minutes, as she sets everything up for her day. She’s on the phone now– I’ve been made. But I did it for all of you. Was it worth it? In the words of “Big”, “AbsoFcukinLutely“.

Do me proud, mutineers. Your astonishing talent can make the fruit of my covert activities on behalf of the Mutiny taste even sweeter. Hook a soon-to-be-detainee up, would ya?

67 thoughts on “55Friday: The “Why Does it Always Rain on Me?” edition

  1. What an Idiot. I am talking about myself. I did read that ya’ll were meeting today, but for some reason, I assumed that it was yesterday.

    So we should hear from Anna in about half an hour ;-)

  2. Hey Anna

    Ever heard of using GPRS? Using bluetooth or infrared, connect your laptop to your cellphone (which acts as a modem) to go on the net!

    So simple yaar :)

  3. She was obsessed. Every few minutes she left her book, television, or even yummy daal chaval and turned to the internet.
    Each time she hoped the website would answer her yearning. The page opened. She scanned the recent browntown news and sidebar commentary conflagrating terrorism, Apu, and bollywood. She held her breath. Where was Ennis?

  4. The wax candles, scattered throughout the bedroom, gave the place a decadent yet luxurious ambience. The musky sweetness of sandalwood still lingered, incense sticks long extinguished.

    Angelina checked her cellphone. “It’s Brad.” An apologetic smile.

    As she picked up her lingerie from the floor, Punjabi Boy buried his face in his hands. Forgive me, Bipasha…..

  5. Sangeeta glanced at her watch. “I really have to go now.” A wry, teasing smile…..

    Ajay locked eyes with her, daring her to stay.

    Sangeeta shook her head, laughing knowingly. “Again next week ?”, ring already back on her finger.

    Ajay nodded, pushing the guilt away as always. Well, they should’ve let me marry her…..

  6. The line snaked around the mandap, well-wishers eager to congratulate the couple.

    “The perfect Indian jodi”…..”So respectable”…..”The traditional ways are always the best”…..”Nisha looks so beautiful…..”

    Amit noticed her staring into the seated audience. Which of her ex-boyfriends is she looking at now ?!

    Priya winked back at Nisha, crossing her legs, remembering last night.

  7. Jai Singh, you’re on a roll. They’re illicit, forbidden, dangerous…but also thrilling and daring!

  8. Ravi sat upright, still holding the joint. The Nigerian girl on his left and blonde Swede on his right both pulled the bedsheets up to their necks. Empty bottles of Cristal lay on the carpet.

    Frozen in her son’s bedroom doorway, still holding her luggage, Mrs Patel couldn’t decide what to become hysterical about first.

  9. Sex was always on her mind.

    Secretly analyzing every man she met – for sleepability. Too dark. Or sometimes, too thin, too fair, too tall. And the ones she liked – were not Brahmins.

    “Subbu! Maapillai is in the U.S. Lots of money… you’re very lucky!”

    Oh, well. It was all the same when the lights were switched off.

  10. Natasha was shocked at how blatant Vijay was; nobody else at the dinner-party had appeared to notice.

    Too risky. I haven’t brought anything with me, I haven’t even renewed my prescription.

    Unless…..

    They later made their way back to the table separately, discreetly. Natasha sat on her chair, flinching slightly, blessing whoever had invented cushions.

  11. The women cheered as the plane landed in Jamaica, most of them already drunk.

    Sameera bit her lip in anticipation of the adventures ahead. New combinations, new…..experiences.

    She wondered if she’d finally be able to get it all out of her system before the wedding. Guess some habits really are impossible to break, she mused.

  12. She was obsessed. Every few minutes she left her book, television, or even yummy daal chaval and turned to the internet. Each time she hoped the website would answer her yearning. The page opened. She scanned the recent browntown news and sidebar commentary conflagrating terrorism, Apu, and bollywood. She held her breath. Where was Ennis?

    Sheepishly, he mumbled “I’ve been busy … I’m sorry, I forgot to check the comments” He eyed flowers on his way to work, but who would he send them to? He had no idea who Sikhgirl was, where she lived, if she was married, what she looked like. Who was his mysterious fan?

  13. Long after the deadline passed, he couldnÂ’t stop writing. There was so much he wanted, and needed, to express. His fingers quivered. Oh, the passion! But even more, oh the frustration! He kept writing as the inspiration released like a geyser.

    He continued, until he read the comment from thekingsingh.

    “Dude, you need a girlfriend.”

  14. Thekingsingh,

    Don’t make assumptions, buddy wink

    A lot of these are actually semi-autobiographical or based on real-life events involving people I know (or have met in the past).

    But it is good to have an outlet for one’s writing skills, anyway. I like your Sikh-focused 55′s too — hopefully you’ve also noticed mine, on previous 55 threads.

    In any case, I liked my Heer-Ranjha one the most (post no. 13), since I’m a romantic old fool ;)