In this confusing, emotionally draining, partly depressing, partly fantastic, roller coaster of a year, the sanest advice anyone anywhere ever offered to me came on a receipt at the departmental stores in Puttaparthy.
If that really was Godsent like it seemed it was, wonder why I still haven't been able to use that advice.
Disclaimer The
Neurotic One shall use this narcissistic recluse to blow his own trumpet, to
question the parentage of Communists and to blast the world for what it is.
Readers who do not concur, are requested to bend over and kiss his buttocks.
Readers are also strongly advised against side effects of reading Neurotica,
such as strong nausea, splitting headaches, insomnia, visions of Baba Sehgal
chasing you in a thong, suicidal depression, delirium, anti social behaviour,
transformtion into an ugly toad, nightmares about ugly and naked fat men, STDs,
Kafka dreams or brief flashes of intelligence.
If you do feel these side effects, oh well. Sue me.
