Daily Routine Of The Creative Person You Want To Date. Told Ya So!

We know you all want to date a creative person, which is kind of fine. But here are things you must know before you actually commit such stupidity.

by Debojit Dutta

Image courtesy: Stephen King| Dishmag.com

3: 00 AM:

Wake up with a thud. A proper thud on the bed, if your previous one bothered nobody. Stare into space. And go back to sleep.

3: 30 AM:

Wake up surreptisiously. Wear worn out slippers. Go to the loo and create poo.

4:00–5:30 AM:

Keep creating poo. Think about how Shakespeare would have pooped; would Dickinson look down while shitting? Make a mental note about looking down.

5:30 AM-6:30 AM:

Create a study desk. Sit down at the study desk. Dip your quill in the ink pot, and pretend to think. Think your thought would be better reflected with a paint brush. Create a paint brush.

6:30 AM-7:30 AM:

Say “fuck that shit”. Without exclamation. Pretend to have forgotten the mental note about looking down. Look irritated.

7:30 AM-8:00 AM:

Look irritated.

8: 00 AM-9:00 AM:

Go to the breakfast table. Push away that bowl of cereals. On being asked if you want toast, go on a monologue about butter and toast, toast and butter. When butter melts on toast, is it the butter’s sorrow or the toast’s? If it’s the latter, why do we call it a “toast”? A possible bourgeois celebration of sorrows of the marginalized? When your mother screams at you, imagine yourself as the toast being served.

9:30 AM-11: 30 AM:

Lie on your bed on your back. Keep looking at the fan dial. Then concentrate on the cobwebs and look at the spiders building their nest, but imagine yourself stuck there.

12:00 PM-1:00 PM:

Keep lying there. Don’t respond to the phone ringing. When annoyed, pick up the reciever and slam it back down. Create a ring tone in your head. Create Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony.

2:00 PM-3:00 PM:

Pick up the call just to shut your mom up. But don’t utter a word in response to the hellos. Say that the world isn’t in the kind of shape to greet and be greeted. Anyway, it doesn’t make sense because you don’t greet, you are the greeting. When the person at the other end giggles, realize it is that person who once wrote you a poem about love. How much you hated that poem about love. And that person is asking to meet for a date. Feign fever.

3:30–4:30 PM:

Finally agree, realizing that no one else will write a poem for you, however terrible it might be. And now since you have skipped lunch, since you did not want to burden your stomach with food, dinner might have just become a necessity. Curse necessities. So say that at 9:00 PM you will reach for dinner.

5:00 PM-8:00 PM:

Create a list of things you don’t want to do. Put dinner at the top of it. And picking up phone. And copying Emily Dickinson. And dates. And laughter. Erase Emily Dickinson. Write an Emily Dickinson poem about dates and laughter and dinner, introduce Oscar Wilde and Charles Simic into it. Erase Charles Simic. Introduce a comma between Oscar and Wilde. Erase the comma.

8:00 PM-9:30 PM:

Create the unkempt, untidy look. Unshower yourself. Switch off the fan. Switch off the AC. Accumulate sweat. Look into the mirror. Say mirror is a stone which works perfectly. Write this on the mirror with your mother’s lipstick. Write it upside down.

10:30 PM-11: 00 PM:

Reach fashionably late. Say fuck fashion. Throw tantrums at your date. When reminded you are an hour and a half late, remind the person the subjectivity of time. Look grumpy.

11:15 PM-11:45 PM:

Keep scanning the menu. When the waiter tells you it is time for their last order, and you must decide, give the waiter a dirty look. What do waiters know? Turn the menu upside down and scan again. Give the waiter a smug smile and inform that the menu has nothing worth eating. This menu is a preserve of the bourgeois. There’s nothing in it for a writer like you. Ask for ink. Say you would rather drink ink. Inquire if there’s a menu for creative people with paint and ink for food. When the waiter looks puzzled, inform that the shock is much deserved.

12:00 AM-12:30 AM:

Start strolling back home having ruined two people’s dinner. Walk with the look of accomplishment: one thing off the list.

12:45 AM-1:00 AM:

Try to dissolve into thin mist while creating air quotes of different sizes.

1:30 AM-2:00 AM:

Reach home and thump on the door. Don’t ring the bell. Then throw your coat on the floor, 15 inches away from your shoes. If it doesn’t work the first time, pick it up and do it again and again till you have created the poetry of coat and shoes. Wonder how beautiful is the poem of coat and shoes.

2:30 AM-3:00 AM:

Create a power nap and create a dream where you create the world. Create a proper thud on the bed.

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