So long, so very long

Yesterday was like a mini 2009. 2009 has been excruciatingly long, with too many people and too many changes. Yesterday was long. I divided myself into many people - I did not particularly like one part of me during the night, but it doesn't really matter.
I went to visit an old friend. I walked a bit. It's brilliant in Cal now. It's a proper winter after ages. There's this lazy, wonderful sun winking at you through the dusty trees - there's a smell of oranges and cold cream - everything that makes winter in Calcutta a proper winter. I was trying to de-romanticize it as much as I could while walking down this lane - but I really am not frillying it. It was pretty damn it. Like this old, persistent lover, reminding you that, she's still got that certain something that no other boob job floosey can ever have.
But then there came a time in the evening where I was reminded why I left Cal in the first place. It's bloody small, and everyone knows everyone. Everyone goes to fucking Park Street in the evening when they want to go out for a drink. With talks of same and same and same.
I want my room in Pune, I want my frog pond, the hills. I want my flat in Bangalore, beer in coffee cups and shivering smokes in the verandah. I want my Delights Dosa and green benches and guitar in Xavier's. My Yeats classes, my Look Back in Anger classes. My Sudoku in Mirza's classes. My metro ride home. My auto rides to my many homes. Screenings. Editing at night. My millions of afternoons at Esplanade Mansions. My room in S1. The kitchen. The TV. My fucking life in a million fucking pieces. Cannot be. Is not. In Park Street. Drinking. Stupidly. With talks of same.
Fuck, I feel old. And I fill full. Stuffed. And I'm trying too hard to be profound. It's just one of the days. I can't articulate. I can't be simple and unpretentious. I'm vague and horrible.