With his character being scalded by the water from the geyser funneled through the water spout onto his tender and grimy body, he went into thought. His brainy mass started working on several thoughts at once, possibly one for every thin yet firm jet of water that hit him through the spout.
First, as the soap worked around his chest and legs, he saw the thought - one that cropped in his head midway the night - to its entirety. Yes, they were still in a state of infancy, a degenerate bullish existence (ref. Ch1, "Hackers and Painters", by Paul Graham). They still saw much things in the light of 'cool' and 'uncool', and their modus operandi of making acquaintence was immediate confirmation of their validations/invalidations, and a hope for the other person for the same. They had reviewed so much in so many, yet it only seemed to make them worse in their judgments. He wondered whether he should formally approach them and de-commit all the commitments that had been exchanged in the process of mutual acceptance.
Now onto the nape and the back, and he was reviewing his (partial) renewal of zest and activity in life. Weekends always made him mull over that. He saw himself active enough, happy enough, and fit enough for all of his day's activities - nightly ping pong games had it all covered. He had no concern for a cosmetic body, for he was neither in a profession that would require that, or in active physical relationship with a woman who would desire that.
The shampoo negated his thought process, as the surfactants seeped into his eyes and had a burning sensation. The dimension of his awareness narrowed to the hair on the floor, then dirt sediments stacking up around the drain pipe, and the color of his bathroom mug, which he had believed to be green, but in fact, was purple.
Soon, with the bath done, and the drying in process, his thoughts shifted to the immediacies of his crowded life. He had office to be at on a weekend, he had to - definitely had to - take care of his laundry, maybe there was cycling to take up later in the day, he had a college friend to meet after 3 years, he had his cousins to take out for dinner, and help his NGO friends with their website; crowded life. With the fabric of the towel now running softly over his body making gentle finishing strokes, he dreamt of company a girl he'd like to see himself involved with, and let the assuaging thought hold on for an equally fleeting moment.
Cold coffee, sleep, and hopes for a fabulous day in his pending wakefulness.
May has been hard hit by my emotional state of crawling deeper into my shell. Inaction and inexpressiveness have been the defining labels. This blog has not seen much love.
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