Hello, I’m concussed and I have college stuff going on and I have a deadline to hopefully, hopefully, HOPEFULLY finish on time by next the next midnight which arrives. I won’t even bother with fixing typos on this nor will I be especially concerned with punctuation (although I do find myself automatically writing more ‘refined’ when I write for this newsletter; it’s like a piece of my younger, more literate, less concussed, less generally deteriorated self1 awakens again), because holy mother of fuck holy fuck madarchod what the fuck. It’s 1:26 AM as I type this, deadline is on 11:59 PM, fuck fuckity fuck me, a lecture from 9 AM to 5 PM. For one single subject. Our course coordinators definitely make choices, that’s for sure. They sure do.
I was going to get Mecobal today, which is a medication my neurologist replaced some other medication with2, but it’s 29 August 2025. Manoj Jarange is doing a hunuger strike to make it so the OBC reservations which apply to Kunbi Marathas are given to all Marathas. All of them. I don’t live that close to Azad Maidan, where the hunger strike is, but the traffic stuff and the bhagwa scarf guys who came in droves in trucks and stared at people and threatened couples for… existing in public, I guess (normal gundagardi)… and holy fuck, I get stared at every single day because I’m androgynous3 and a 20 year old who uses a stick to walk (read: confusing) but these people were staring at EVERYONE and I got confused if it was the normal staring or if it’s just these guys doing it more. It’s these guys doing it more, that’s the case.
Sidewalk/footpath: Went to get chicken frankie rolls in the evening because I had barely eaten and I was like, “yeah, fuck it, the situation isn’t good but I may as well” (no eye contact with anyone, didn’t say much, got away ASAP, blended into the background, could disappear easily without a trace like and it would barely take any effort at all) and–4 see, there’s a nice little path that’s between the sidewalk and the residential buildings. Like a little path. They close it up late in the evening, though. It was open when I left to get my frankie rolls, but it was closed on the way back. So I took the sidewalk. That’s usually fine. However, there’s that traffic situations. Scooters and bikes all lined up on the sidewalk (and one car too), traffic police helping people lift their 2-wheelers from the road to the footpath (haha footpath, foot for your pedestrian feet; it’s an Indian city, no place for pedestrians, be real), and me and some other people trying to walk through. Me with my stupid little stick5 trying to squeeze through the little bit of space. I AM in a lot of pain, yes. Concussion doesn’t help either. The frankies were great though, as always. I fucking love chicken frankies. Fuck vada pav, I love Mumbai for the frankies6 and I don’t care if my food opinion there is wrong because MOST of my food opinions are wrong, my taste buds are broken and my nervous system hates me (why do you think I’m in pain?), my perceptions are FUCKED and I prefer to find JOY in confusion.7
Anyway. This post actually had a purpose, believe it or not. And the purpose was to let you guys know that I’m working on a new flash fiction. To let you guys know that I’m rather frustrated at how rusty my skills have gotten, and how mediocre all my output feels, etc etc etc, but that it’s in the process of coming to existence. It also ended up becoming a stream-of-consciousness diary entry thing. Oh well! It served its purpose in the end.
The flash fiction will be done when it’s done! Have a good one today. I won’t but I’ll try to vibe nonetheless!
"I’m twenty years old,” is something I remind myself when I think I’m about to go into some rant about how I’m all decrepit and collapsing etc etc etc. I AM decrepit and collapsing, but I probably have 40 years or so remaining. Probably 30. Definitely at least 10 or 15. NOT a dying old man by any means.
The other thing was L-carnitine. It made me weirdly tired and dizzy and I blacked out in class because my normal amount of hydration apparently wasn’t enough when I was on this supplement. I’m not sure if that’s really supposed to happen but the effects of L-Carnitine appear to be… well, it’s a supplement, and if you look up stuff about supplements on the internet you’ll find the experiences of a lot of people who took the supplement on the*ir own and you’ll also find studies with rigid methodologies but my point is… information. Sorting through the information. I can’t really tell if the side effects were weirdly drastic or not. Though the neurologist DID warn me about the dizziness and fatigue herself. So it’s not that odd. But yeah, I told her about the side effects being too fucky (actually made me skip class way too damn much, I’m so burnt out after that difficult “can’t catch up” phase), and she said to replace it with this new thing.
I’m a man but god knows if I’ll ever be one legally. Maybe I’ll die before that and my parents will cry over their daughter and my brother, who knows the truth, he may have a spine and tell them just how little they knew. Maybe. I don’t know. My friends know the truth, but who knows what’s in their power. What’s in my power? A lot. But that doesn’t include some things I wish were in my power. What community am I in? There’s a young woman described in my legal documents. I guess she’s in communities and is known by people. Does she exist? Do I exist?
When you type two hyphens in a row, Substack autocompletes them to make an em-dash. This is annoying, because I actually wanted an en-dash (for interruptions) rather than an em-dash. In Google Docs, you do two hyphens for an en-dash, and three for an em dash. I like this better. I’m trying to move away from Google Docs because apparently they’ve started purging random people’s documemnts (???), and I do keep back-ups but honestly, fuck Google in general and fuck the rest of this digital hellscape controlled by monopolies and especially fuck Meta. Unfortunately I am excessively online, and my issues have me stuck indoors and unable to properly touch grass. Or live. My youth is getting stolen by the chronic pain + flimsy/non-existent support system combo. So perhaps the “already old and decrepit at the age of 20” lamentation (footnote 1) isn’t that unfounded. But anyway, I CAN be online in better ways if nothing else! Indie web and stuff (and I’m cutting out Instagram already), I’m looking into the possibilities and I’ll figure it out eventually.
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That’s some decrepit old man type vibes, too, isn’t it? Last week, a child called me uncle. Uncle. Straight-up, UNCLE. None of you have seen my face (and you never will unless you know me personally), but I’ve been told I look young for my age. Black chappal and black tshirt and black shorts and the stick (also black; AND metal, I could be concussion twins with someone!) were enough for uncle status to that tiny little child, though. Youth getting stolen (footnote 4), the child declared it true!
(I must re-state that I’m concussed.)
I miss Delhi momos, though… I grew up in Delhi, and I don’t really look forward to going back during my semester breaks (I’m in Mumbai for college only), but I miss the momos. I’ll get to have them in late September though. I miss Delhi momos and I miss Delhi homos. There’s some specific homos I have in Delhi. I want momos with the homos. I might get to have them with one specific homo only, and that’s a ‘might’ because we might end up eating something else. I’ll definitely get momos though, as soon as I arrive in that godforsaken hellscape. And I love homos
(This concussion has me kinda dizzy and such too, a little nauseous. And loopy. Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooopy. Looped all around. Woohoo. God help me, though I don’t actually believe in God at all. It’s 2:09 AM. Would God punish atheists? Any version of God? Whichever God or God-adjacent being you believe in? I don’t want more punishment, but I could handle more. My expectations are pretty low. I expect things to be pretty fucking horrific, since such an expectation has proven to be very reasonable. And keeping my expectations measured like that keeps me well-prepared.)
My confusion! Your confusion! My friends’ confusion! The confusion of the random people on the street like the one man a few weeks ago who stared at me for a whole minute straight (full 60 seconds; happens all the time but most people take breaks in between, rest their eyes a bit; but maybe staring at me was the rest, I’m pretty good-looking) without even looking away because I’m a fucking alien sent on this planet and not an actual person!
Humour can be found in everything.