On nights when sleep eludes and the mind is game, a zillion thoughts criss-cross creating no possible method of madness. Last night Lady Gaga's Bad Romance played. I especially like the "Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah" part and only this keeps resonating. I think of Remedios the beauty, I wrote about yesterday and wonder about reading. I read GGM's One Hundred Years of Solitude sometime in 2003 and think about how I used to read books. I always tell myself that after my thesis I shall read many books. It might happen or not. So many things we think of doing when x or y gets over, but do we really get back to it? Maybe we might. I think of fellow bloggers and I stay on one of my fellow-blogger's page which talks of the death of a theatre personality. I have seen one of his plays but I feel very sad and distraught on reading the news. Then thoughts fly to my death. How will people receive the news? I wonder about how I will look when I am laid in the casket and what will be my eulogy . . . I stop. Another thought cuts the other one abruptly: How will my fellow-bloggers know that I am no more. I wonder about a certain someone who is crawling the pages of a blog and regretting something. I implore to sleep and ask her where she is. She is quiet. I start singing. I don't remember what. The tune is gentle . . .
Nothing really matters to me . . . Mamma-mia, mamma-mia. What did the Queens think of Bohemian Rhapsody when Freddie Mercury first wrote the song in 1975. I like that song anyway.
Does the short interval between sleeplessness and sleep take you to several places and times . . . Do you enjoy those stream-of-conscious exercises.