It’s lights out for the entire city, I think as I stand on my balcony. The grass, the faux grass, which is always something to mention, is cold and has started to get some semblance of dew. It had to rain today; I almost got caught in a shower earlier in the evening as I tried to find a cab after meeting a friend for coffee. But then, just like how we went to get coffee and settled for some bubble tea, the clouds came to cause havoc but decided against pouring after all. The world was a fickle place.
In any case, I found myself in a quiet moment. After doing some personal accounting, one must stand with their thoughts of reflection and a pint of beer in their hand. It helps put things in perspective. It tells you how you can afford to drink still, after all the bills and the taxes.
I realise how thoughts at night are mulled, and thoughts after a pint or two are like clay. There is a soft comfort in our rumination at night. The breeze flutters by, and the occasional owl hoots as if he has something important to say about what’s on our minds. As I take a few sips out of the chilled glass bottle, I think over how I refuse to show this foggy state to someone now. Other people asked you questions, and since you could not think too well, you often spilt the truth.
Just then, as I look at the blinking lights on the hills ahead, I realise there are only two words on my mind: desire and boredom. I think of how I desire to be bored. This is what I want—to have a boring life and revel in this boredom, in this glorious celebration of the mundane. I think of how I pulled the shutters on most things I fought for, things that kept me occupied. I think of how I answered when a friend asked why I stopped my little projects: frankly, I said, I wanted to read.
I only want to write, read, have a beer now and then, and have coffee with friends; if coffee does not do, I want to be able to choose bubble tea, and for all of that—to buy books, to write freely, to get beer and coffee and tea—I want to earn just enough and not a dime more.
I desire to be bored and celebrate this banal existence. To change the world is too onerous a task; I choose to live in it instead.