The anticipatory homesickness is once again rearing its ugly head. We all have demons in the deep wells of our souls, and one of mine is the Uprooter. If only he could be vanquished with the liberal application of a flamethrower. Alas.
Last night I had dinner with Excellent David and Joni. There was beer and laughter and Latin Scrabble. There was palaeography and whiskey and enviro-doom. It was a grand old time, and something I treasure. It's going to be hard to leave such joy behind.
Last weekend, I went to the movies with Ramona. We saw Om Shanti Om, and it was a blast. It was campy and romantic and hilarious. Almost smack dab in the middle of the film there is an outrageous song-and-dance scene. A veritable legion of Bollywood stars show up one by one to sing and dance. In the film, the party is thrown for Om, an actor (wheels within wheels, dear reader), but it's fairly evident that the stars of the film and the stars making cameos are just plain having the time of their lives.
Anyway, right in the middle of this, I realise how much fun I'm having and how much I love spending time like this. And how much I am going to miss it. I'm going to miss Ramona, and her family, and all the fun and amazing things I've been exposed to over the year because of them. Of course I can go see Bollywood films in England, but it's not nearly as much fun when there's no one to share it with.
I have so little time now, and I want to spend so much of it with so many people that I feel like I get not enough time with anyone.
Anyone have a metaphysical flamethrower they want to loan me?
On Pushback, Progress and Promise
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