Invisible Man

Okay, this is one of those rare times I’m going to step out of my self-absorbed self (yes, I’ve been called that…sniff around the blogsphere, the poor blog-bookie who said this just might find something good to say about me if I send some hits his way. No, I’m not putting up his link…I’m evil that way, hehehe)

So coming back, this is one of those few times I’ll write about another person and actually say who I’m talking about. This post is for Brad.

I’ll say it again.

BRAD, this is about you!!!!

For anyone who missed the reference, this is the guy who posts poetry in my comments section, the man who writes even better stuff there than he does on his own blog. (Ah…I’ve been requested/ threatened with dire consequences if I give you the link). For some strange reason, he posted one of my photographs on his blog once. Yes, and this is the guy the last post was about (oh pleeeeezzz look at his comments there!)

I’ve written more than one post about him or conversations I’ve had with him. I once referred to him as a Bloody Male on XXFactor. According to Sensorcaine who ‘officially’ introduced us,

When you meet him, he’s this pretty normal guy. The weirdness is online.

And Selma is totally awe-struck by the fact that

He can say just anything to anybody!!

Speaking of which, I must talk about how I got to know Brad. Long, long ago, when I was still young and innocent (okay, not thaaat long ago)…I started receiving comments in poetry from Brad. I might have thought nothing of it, except that the comments were even better than my poetry-posts!! 

Around the same time, I received an invitation to ‘be a friend’ from some stranger (lets call him ‘NS’ for networked stranger) on one of the networking sites. Our common link turned out to be Sensorcaine, who manages to be the only one I know who can be ‘sensibly weird’.  Hence I accepted and I was shown into a blog full of strange ramblings that I soon forgot about.

And yet later, I chatted briefly with someone with a nondescript identity, who read my blogs (‘NI’ for nondescript identity).

Last year Brad e-mailed me for the first time telling me that he would be in my city and asking if I’d care to meet him. I was in…ah, lets call it my ‘anti-social’ phase so I didn’t actually meet him though he was treated to long monologues on what kind of a tattoo I should get.

A few months later, Sensorcaine asked me if I’d read NS’s blog. I told her I had and hadn’t been impressed. She looked surprised (one of the few times I’ve ever seen her so..) and re-iterated,

Are you sure? He sometimes comments on your blog as Brad.

*BING BONG* went the bells in my head and I said, “That’s him? But why does he write such junk on his own blog and such gems on my blog?” Wisely she suggested I ask him. And then she gave me his email address. It was NI.

If this wasn’t enough, last year I make the melodramatic proclamation that I’d quit blogging. Among the comments that were delivered to my inbox was one by ‘Brad’ carrying a link. 

Bingo!

I whooped silently and in revenge, linked back to his blog, when I came back.  No, don’t bother looking at my side-bar. That link has been taken off on request and the one that’s there now won’t lead you anywhere. After ages of playing hide-and-seek with my readers, I’ve finally met the master himself.

Now Brad and I have several themes of conversations running. We do manage to have those despite bad telephone signals along the train routes, mad auto-rickshawalas, terror workplace situations and differences in time zones. The last is actually the least of the problems. I stand rightly accused of all those excuses.

Shall I embarass him a little by professing my undying admiration? Oooooh Brad….I’m waiting for you to call me…..*simper simper* Blech….that makes me want to puke but he’ll probably find it funny and its worth it for that. See, I can be nice too!

Sentimentally speaking, I really enjoy talking to you, Brad and I hope your patience out-lives my excuses. Don’t ask me why I make excuses…I can’t help them!!!! But since your patience seems to be wearing thin, I should probably rush to salavage the situation.

Now, here it is on paper (errr…in print).

The weekend is a day-and-a-half away for me.
I don’t sleep AT ALL on Friday nights.
I sleep virtually ALL of Saturday morning.
I also don’t work on Sunday.

All put together, please call me on:
Friday night
Saturday evening
Sunday any time (yours or mine!)

Talk to you soon, A.E. (Whoever wants to know what that means, post a comment addressed to Brad) Shall we reveal your identity now, Brad?

(I’m willing to lay a bet that this post makes him so mad he’ll write a post/comment in reply and not call me at the times mentioned!!)