News and Rants

Reflection

2010-10-05T03:56:00.001+05:30

I didn’t know who I was
Or why I was even there
In the strangest of places
Where dreams took form
And vanished into thin air

I poked and prodded
As fantasies took flight
Clueless as ever I was
Lost in my own mind
Hidden in plain sight

Answers I had found
To questions never asked
My demons, they ran circles
Around me, sniggering
And hinting at the past

Then ego and will walked
Right into my head
From where they’d come
Or why they chose me
Couldn’t be said

As memories flooded in
Flowers withered as they grew
It dawned upon me
That I’d been remade
Hardly as good as new

My limbs moved with purpose
To where I knew nought
Time let go of itself
As it ticked away
Making sure I forgot

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Its been ages.
A little experiment with a rhyme scheme.

My Friends

2010-03-01T20:08:00.002+05:30

Buzz
I've got used to the bugs. They're my friends now. Maybe I should name them. Hmm.
But they all look the same.
They came around a month ago.From between the cracks i the padding. They dont hurt me,they're quite alright. I think. I miss friends. There were loads of them outside. They can't always be trusted. I hope the bugs can. I don't want to not trust them.
They're nice and green.
They help me keep awake. Even after the food with the pills in it. Its nice of them. Isn't that what friends are for, to look out for you, and not put you away in white rooms. No.
The bugs know, that if I sleep, its not good. I haven't slept in three months. Impressive hunh! And the last time was only for an hour or so. Its like I've rewired myself. I had to.

Buzz.
Hello there!
You look nice. Different. Shiny! Theres a word for it. Iridescent! I used to have a lighter that looked like you. You should be named. You deserve it. I shall call you, um, hmm, aha! I shall call you Ephemeral. You are now Ephemeral I Bug. Like it?
You look like a nice fellow. Will you be my best friend? Ephemeral I Bug? Will you?

Buzz.
I'll take that as a yes. You won't tell me to sleep will you? Your not like one of those humbugs are you? Like those outside.
Should we seal the deal on our friendship? I'll let you in on a secret. That will make us best friends for sure!

Buzz.
What secret? Well, its about dreams.

Buzz?
Is that why I don't sleep? Come on Ephemeral, don't ask such silly questions. You know your smarter than that. My friends are always smart. Other than the humbugs. Bah! Humbugs.

Buzz.
The secret? Oh, I almost forgot we were talking about it. Yes, the secret. You know I don't sleep because of the dreams. But the dreams, they arent nightmares, or even bad dreams.

Buzz.
No I'm not messing with you. I wouldn't do that. Your my best friend Ephemeral I Bug. I have the nicest dreams ever or had, rather. Still might, if I sleep. But we're not going to let that happen are we?

Buzz.
Yes? The dreams? They were always about nice and happy things. But they were lies. All lies.
I would always see what could've and what should've been. So pretty, so nice.
So untrue.

Buzz.
So? Sleeping was alright. Dreaming was nice. It was the waking up that hurt. I like mornings. Mornings bring eggs on toast, baco and fresh coffee. Hmm, bacon.
I couldn't have the waking up ruin my mornings. Or my day for that matter. I really like mornings.

Buzz.
Come on, Ephemeral, join the dots. If I woke up every morning, feeling how I did, after seeing all those nice, beautiful things, what would've been the simplest way out? Comprende?

Buzz.
Et Voila! You got it. I stopped sleeping. It was so simple. Its funny it took me so much to figure it out. But it's worked beautifull hasnt it. Dont you think so?
You understand. Your my best friend Ephemeral.

Buzz.
Enough with the talking now. Do you play an instrumen Ephemeral? We could start a band. Or just sing. Im tired of singing to myself.

Buzz.
You like my voice! You're too kind.
What would you like me to sing?
Wait, I'll choose. Have you heard this one. It's one of my favourites.

“If I were a swan
I'd be gone
If I were a train
I'd be late
And if I were a good man
I'd talk with you more often than I do”

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Be kind.
Now Playing : Guess?
Now Reading : Salivahanan.
Now Recovering from : Holy Wars!

Poetriness

2009-10-25T02:58:00.002+05:30

She comes to me
I chase her away

She evades me
My eyes burn bright red

She caresses me
I dream in peace

She embraces me
I sleep endlessly

_________________________________________________________
Cough Cough.

Ive been sleeping a lot lately. Snapped out of it today.
Cleaned my room, but there's nothing to do in there.

What a Wonderful World

2009-07-12T22:43:00.004+05:30

You know what I'm talking about, don't you Pops. You must've seen it or felt it or something. You have, haven't you?
Yes, the balance, that's what I call it. I knew you'd know of it. I knew you'd understand. I grew quite tired of it, really tired of it, that's why I'm here in front of you right now.

You don't mind me talking bout it? Why that is just so kind. Mind you, I do tend to drag on a bit.

My life wasn't very bad. Quite comfortable, by most standards. But I could see, quite early actually, that there was a law, a balance as I've come to call it. I could take it, back in another time, it was bearable. Quite simple actually, hard work bore fruit, slacking off didn't. For each time I did something wrong, in my own eyes, the guilt would kill me, and if not that some sort of karma would. And it applied everywhere. Quite a simple give and take. I could live with that.

But then, life happened. And took it's toll. You know how it is. My eyes were opened, what you call reefer, might have helped too, heheh.

But drugs aside, for now, I did see, quite clearly, how the balance was skewed for most other people. There were but a few others who had been dealt a fair deal. For most it was all wrong. Not really something I could live with. But worse of all, were those whose scales tipped in favour. You suffered from it too, didn't you. Sensitivity came at quite a high price didn't it Pops.
Ha!

I know, I know, it all sorts itself out in the Universal Scheme of Things. But sometimes the bloody Universe doesn't give a shit about you and me, pardon my French.

I'm glad you understand. It really relieves me. So I have you with me on this, don't I?

Well, two ampoules of Grade A Ketamine did the trick. I was out of there before my body knew it was going to bite the dust. Yeah, it did take a while to find you, but that don't matter no more , do it? Heheh!

Pointless? No, I'm not done yet. I did say I tend to drag on a bit, sorry about that.
Well, I left a letter. For once, I did think things through, quite well actually. When they found me, as I was on my way, they saw the letter. So, they called her.
What? Haha, yeah, it all comes down to a woman doesn't it? Well, I needed to do my bit to set the balance right.
I don't like watching people suffer, who does? But I needed to watch sorrow and pain rend her apart as my body lay, hanging on to those last few breaths. I needed it. She needed it too. I never meant her no harm. Believe me Pops.

Well, that was the final weight on the scales. I'm somewhere else now, where the balance doesn't matter, out of the ruddy scheme to say. For better or for worse, I don't know, don't care either.

So, what do you think? Actually, don't tell me. Doesn't matter, what's done is done. I just ask one thing of you. Just sing me a few bars of that song. C'mon Pops, you know what I'm talking about.

Ahh, thanks. Thank you.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took me two days to come up with the concept. Its a melange of a lot of things I've been thinking about, for a while.

You know what I'm listening to. If you don't, you don't.

Zone

2009-05-27T02:17:00.002+05:30

I'm in a zone. I've been there for god knows how long. Hours, days, weeks, months, who the fuck knows. It's not like I know what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel a full blown rant would help things, but I just cant. My subconscious is probably tired of me whining about how fucked things are on a day to day basis. So it came up with the brilliant idea of stemming the flow of words not from my mouth but from my fingers.

Image currently in head : Brain stem trying to choke me and tying up my fingers with nerve fibres.

Sometimes I wish I was better at sketching, so I could put down what I was thinking with a little more clarity.

I'm quite tired of thinking. Seriously. Its a strain, drain and other things ending with -ain, or even rhyming with it.
I dont see the point of constantly battling your desires so as to fulfil long term goals. If you cant be happy now, whats the point of being happy 20 years later. There is the whole work hard ethic thing, but seriously, how can you guarantee your happiness after youve achieved whatever goal you have.
If I end up penniless a couple of years later, I'll say " At least I enjoyed my time!"

I hate the way I write now. I cant articulate the thoughts in my head. Everything is gone. Lost. Probably even put up for adoption.

This might seem like a rant, but is far from one. Venting out feelings is hardly enough anymore.

It's a drug. You use, abuse and then your tolerance increases, you hit it harder and harder, looking for that release. Chasing the dragon as its called, in the more opiate controlled form.
Its what ive been looking for, a release.
Well, my arms are covered with needle marks, im out of veins to shoot into, regular junk doesnt do it for me anymore. Am I nearing saturation, or have I just become eternally thirsty.
Burroughs spoke of the wraith (ive probably got the name wrong, but who gives), a protoplasmic remnant of what was once a human and then a junkie. Thats all I am now. The wraith is transparent, so am I. So used to opening and venting out, I am just an open book, though who might be reading is another question altogether.

I remember a time, when there was an angst in what I wrote, some feeling, and a little accomplishment when I got done with it. Now, there is just the expectation, the anticipation, followed by an old friend, disappointment.

And what fun is there, what joy is left, in forcing myself to do something. It becomes pure mindless drudgery, something I loathe from the very depths of my being.
I never thought I would be one to bow to the machine, and here I am, contemplating to be one with it.

I might have had a spark once, I'm not quite sure. It might have been a fledgling spark, a sparklet. But whatever it was, if it was there, it is now gone, extinguished by time and tide.

I am still young, with years to go before the final release ( chance dictates how many) But I feel no joy in what I do. There is no zest. There is nothing.

This might be a phase, it might pass. But doesn't its occurrence signal something far worse to come.

I could go on typing. But what would be the point. As usual I have become butcher to myself, hung myself up by the meat hook for all to see.

I see no end in sight, all there is, is bleak. And it is I who is to blame. For no matter how much you debate it, a man is the master of his own destiny.

Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better.
Still, I will be the same.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

I should have written this in my journal, but spontaneity got the better of me.

Of Doors And Dreams

2009-05-15T01:32:00.004+05:30

He had a key
The corridor
seemed endless
Doors, innumerable
All alike
Which one he looked for
he knew not himself

Its not like he could stop
Dream was all he did
Had the key not fit
It might have made sense
to stop
But each and every door?

He was probably born with it
Was he the key
or the key him
None could say
Least of all him

They had told him
of fortunes he was to have
For every door
was his to open

None of them did
Maybe the key
was made wrong
But each time
it seemed just right

Where the line was
between real and unreal
he knew not
Had he crossed it
Or was it where he stood
He had found a constant
a pillar, a companion
in a blur

He still tries every door
Out of hope, some despair
others with a will
easy to fade
There were always those
he walked into
blindly

None open
He can see through though
and wish
for that is all
that keeps him going
Wish

Caught up in
disappointment
he drowns silently
in a glass half full
Though he knows
in his heart of hearts
The key
He never turns it all the way
.

---------------------------------------------
Now Playing : Sigur Ros - Flugufrelsarinn
Now Reading : The works of Mr. Grewal, among other things
Now Feeling :

To Do List

2009-05-07T22:28:00.003+05:30

Things to do this summer :

* Reach home (Done)
* Not get killed by parents
* Not kill parents
* Kill younger brother
* Quit smoking (Hah!)
* Study (Hah!)
* Watch Skins (Season 3)
* Actually finish the books i pick up from the library
* XBox 360 (I only have 2 games, still no Halo 2/ 3/ etc)
* Fix busted knee
* Buy new shoes
* Write something good in my journal (poor thing has been untouched for over a month!)

Who says I'm not organised?

The Hunger Law (student edition)

2009-04-29T02:43:00.003+05:30

The law of hunger states that "Male hostel students are always in a constant state of hunger due to lack of both home cooked food and good places to eat"
This is also known as Colonel's law, i.e. Colonel Sanders of Kentucky.
It can be mathematically expressed as :
H = n*T/w + m(g/n)
where
H = hunger in terms of McChicken burgers in SI units, or Zingers in Mks units.
n - number of people in the sample population
T(t) - A function of the time , which is ideally a constant, as we are generally hungry
w - weight of food available, we can see H is inversely proportional to it
m - it is a special factor, also known as the munchies factor, which depends on the coefficients g ( amount of green stuff) and n

CTBM is always gone because its quantity (w) is always lower than that which can satisfy the population n, which probabalistically tends to be larger than n', which is the optimum population.
It also depends on the "early bird gets the worm" hypothesis.

------------------------------------------------------
This was an answer to Sharad's status message :
"Q 3. State the law of Hunger and explain why the Chicken Tikka Butter Masala always gone. Justify your answer. [12]"

I should be studying.

Now Listening - Sigur Ros overdose. Faye was right, it is like whale song, very very soothing.
Now Reading - You dont want to know.
Now Feeling - Petulant.

My Place

2009-04-27T10:00:00.001+05:30

Where I work, play, brood, eat, drink, ponder, party and do a few other things too.

Frizzle Frazzle.........The sweet sound of burning brain tissue.

2009-04-24T12:39:00.004+05:30

8 mugs of caramel Cappuccino. Uncountable pipe loads of Arabic pipe tobacco. One two hour examination. 4 songs have me buzzing.
Listen.
Drink.
Smoke.
Listen.
Good BYE!!!!

Fat Segal - Skins Theme
Animal Collective - Banshee Beat
" - Winter Wonderland
" - Who could win a Rabbit?

Dont forget................
Your brain is your playground.

I Dream of Djinnie

2009-03-26T10:17:00.002+05:30

Dark. The absence of light. If this ain't dark, don't know what is. The place where black holes go to sleep. The place has never known light.
In a fucking articulate mood. Fuck it.
Feel free. Light. Weightless. Like plankton in an ocean of --
-- Enough!
Hunh?
-- I've had it!
What!
-- Not even half the average lifespan, and you've driven me nuts.
Can't see anybody. No surprise. Mysterious voice echoing all around and inside my head!
-- How long does it take your drug addled brain to realize I'm talking to you!
Okay.
-- Quit your bleeding running commentary for once, and listen to what someone else is saying.
But who-what are you?
-- Finally the dimwit realises he's not alone. don't take it too personally, most of you humans have this isolation complex. Fuck! Now I'm digressing. To answer your question, I'm Jambi.
From the Pee Wee Show?
-- Bollocks! No! Before your arsehole of a mouth opens again, I'll educate you. I'm Jambi, granter of wishes, the Big Bad Blue Djinn himself.
But for all I know, your just the size of a neutrino, or even a figment of my imagination. You do realize im in sensory deprivation here.
-- Its for your own good that you cant see me, or you'd fry your brain. Not that it needs much frying, youve done a pretty good job all by yourself.
Hunh!
-- Exactly!
___________
-Lets cut to the chase here. I'm the cunt whose been at the receiving end of every wish you've made, big or small. From yer Ma's teat to that lay youve been lusting after. Every-bleeding-thing.
Fucking-A!
-- Very fucking-A indeed. And this is your moment, ya wee shit.
Wait a minute, whys your accent all messed up?
-Well look at yourself, ya shtoopid. Ever seen anybody more messed up?
So that means --
-- That means fuck all. I've got better things to do than not be seen and just heard by the likes of you. Gotta hand it to you though, your one hell of a distraction. Faaack!!!
Chill man!
-- Enough. Enough. Enough Enough Enough. Now listen up. Your at the ultimate crossroads, and your options are unlimited. And you have one wish. The one decision ya ken? Make it and yer futures decided, to put it in the simplest, most fucking obvious way ever possible.
Un hunh.
-- Now make it. Wish. Thats what you've been doing your whole pointless life. Go on.
Some time?
-- Time ain't the issue here. It isn't even here. Now is then and what will be is what was. Savvy?
Great.
Decision time. What I've always sucked at. What do I want?
To start afresh. To have her back. Be uber rich.
Be somebody else. Awesome axe skills.
AAAAAAARGGGGGGHH!
This is my fucking weakness.
-- Having fun, eh Kiddo?
Aww shut the fuck up man. there's some serious thinking going on here.
How can I make this easier. My little bag of party favours. If only I had my sta-

-- Hmm, he's gone and done it. Lesseee where this takes him. Cant say much bout his decision. I didn't write the fucking book you know..
-- Hmm.
-- I just might miss the wasted little fuck.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Its done. The follow up kinda thing, its done.

Now Listening : Tool - Part of Me. Its been ages since I heard Tool.
Now Reading : Freakangels. A webcomic by Warren Ellis.
Now Feeling : Nothing really. But my left leg has gone to sleep.

25 Hours

2009-03-12T01:15:00.001+05:30

6:15
Tomorrow

Where does all this time keep going? Checked my pockets. Found a watch. What could that mean?
Cigarettes are a precious commodity. Not anymore. Hah. Ive reverted to the old shag baccy and skins.
Tripped on something. Physically that is. Damn, some kid's OD-ed or passed out or something in my room, while i was busy chasing the Light Fantastick. Damn.
Get him outta here. Take cash from wallet. Need it to clean up. Hmm, Shirosagi Corpse Cleaning service would be useful right now. Tempting. Unfortunately, phone link between fact and fiction hasn't been set up. Lets break the fourth fucking wall. You, hey you! Get somebody to clean this place up. Doesnt it hurt your aesthetic sensibilities!
Look at him. Looks like me. Hot damn! Astral projection .... no, Ketamine overdose .... no. Did I just off myself??
Great, looks like I did. Im dead.
Hmm
Damn, my stash!

6:15
Today

Spread-eagled on my bed. I should be thirsty. But strangely am not. Phone rings.
I headbang to the tune. Message arrived. Exam in 30 minutes. Hmm. One complication, left eye seems to be glued shut.
Interesting.
What happens when you shoot up through your eye?
What did I do to my eye?
Maybe its sleepy.
Speed?
Zip. Snort. Gasp.

5:45
Today

Back in my room. Just checked the watch. Not sure how I got back here.
No theft too. All my stuff and the stash is here. Whew.
AS long as the merchandise is safe, everything is cool.
And I've also got something to dip into, for times like these.
Zip. Pop. Ahh!

5:15
Today

Its bleeding 5:15 in the morning. In a speeding auto. Headed straight for the college gate.
We just megabumped over a speedbreaker. Reckless.
Driver turns on the radio for some reason. The clangy bhajan creates a "psychedelic India" environment.
In my head. At least.
Another bump. This specimen of genus Drivus seems to be quite the adrenaline junkie. Or high on something. Probably both.
It piques my curiosity, purely out of professional interest.
Im not all that sober. Beer and quite a few doobies. Half expecting Drivus inebrius to turn back and give a maniacal stare.
I can see him. With his red eyes big and bulgin. Gigantic eyebrows too. I had seen his real face and could see through his flimsy human disguise.

Don't want to die. not in an accident. Not in an accident caused by Satan and his chauffeurs sodomy baby. Not when I have with me my entire cache of red eyed dreams, trips and visions.
At least I wont die sober.

Another major swerve. Around nothing. He is seeing things.
He has red demon eyes. Maybe he can see things I cant. Hellephants?
Is he trying to save me.

Not possible. Drivus inebrius is well known for its lack of altruism.

Reality hits hard. Its like sleuce gates somewhere in my mind have opened up.
Not good. Shit. Cant take more of it. Vile stuff.
Dig my hand into the stash bag. Its a lucky dip. I pop whatever i find into my mouth.
Toke. Exhale. Another toke. This J isn't doing anyone any harm.
Its all good.

Or not. The road doesn't seem to reach its destination. Hmm. Something wrong with that statement. Hmm, found a logical error. Or an illogical accuracy.
The road seems wobbly. More than usual.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is a piece if fiction. It took me 4days to get in a state where i could concentrate enough to type it out. It could've laid for eternity at the back of my Ayverything notebook.

Now Listening : Hym (JK Broadrick Remix) by Isis.
Now Reading : Acid House by Irvine Welsh.
Now Feeling : The need for a cigarette.

Pardon me, I'm a little rusty.

2009-02-04T00:29:00.002+05:30

I don't know what to call this. I don't even know what this is. I wrote this on the back of my DIAC lab journal, while eating dinner at Bhundu dhaba.
Anyway.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Something precious shatters
A broken shard pierces you
You bleed

You try,
to pry out the shard
You bleed some more
It hurts
Like hell

The shard's gone in,
deeper
The blood has congealed
The wound heals
Slowly, though

Theres a pain inside
Its the splinter
Reminding you,
"Im here, inside you"

You scratch
Try to pull the scab off
Stirring up things
Best left alone
You hurt
You bleed

You wonder
What it is
Thats making you
Hurt
Yourself

You masochist, you

Two choices
Thats all you have
Gather, what little
willpower you have
And pull that
Sodding shard
Right out of you
But,
you will bleed

Or, forget
Let the splinter be absorbed
Into your self
Forget
But the hurt wont stop
For a while
a long while
At least.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Now Listening : Old hindi songs and new bhojpuri songs, simultaneously, at Chez Bhundu's
Now Feeling : Fuck emotions, I'm bloody exhausted.
Now Reading : Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman

Warning

2008-11-29T14:32:00.001+05:30

Vivek Wali a.k.a. Jhabra Baba, inmate of hostel 4, room 143 has escaped the confines of his mind and is now roaming free. He was reportedly 'tripping balls' this morning after an overdose of legal drugs. He is armed and dangerous, loaded with an arsenal of misanthropic and homophobic bullshit. You can spot him by his dazed look, his wild and unkempt( but totally awesome) hair, his attempts at disproving the laws of physics and habit of addressing people as members of the phylum protozoa.
If he approaches you do not run or laugh, but listen to him patiently and offer him a ciggarette and show him a movie. This should be enough to bring him to borderline insane which is his normal operating frequency.
Thanking you
Me. Or me. No me!
Its actually the rest of us.

Eyes strangely open

2008-11-24T06:06:00.001+05:30

Not feeling particularly creative. Hence putting up a piece by some of my favorite writers ever.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like 'Maybe we should just be friends' or 'How very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love."
Rose Walker
Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman: The Kindly Ones"

"Say, whoever you are, you know what Freud said about dreams about flying? He said it means you are really dreaming about having sex.
Really? Then tell me what does it mean when you dream about having sex?"
Rose Walker, Dream
Neil Gaiman's "The Sandman: Season of Mists"

"Only one creature could have duplicated the expressions on their faces, and that would be a pigeon who has heard not only that Lord Nelson has got down off his column but has also been seen buying a 12-bore repeater and a box of cartridges."
Terry Pratchett's "Mort"

"We might find out why mankind is here, although that is more complicated and begs the question "Where else should we be?""
Terry Pratchett's "The Last Continent"

The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels.

A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitch hiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you - daft as a brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc, etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Douglas Adam's "Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy"

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Now Feeling : Sore
Now Playing : Pink Floyd - Atom Heart Mother
Now Reading : Electronic Devices and Circuits by Alan Mottershead (funny name)

P.S. : had a change of mind about the whole facebook notes thing.

Belief

2008-09-09T05:17:00.001+05:30

Received a care package from home today. It contained sweets I've loved since i was a toddler. I have cherished memories of helping my mom and grandmom prepare them. Roth, laedd, don't really know how to transliterate (?) them to english, but that what we call them. They are prasad for a festival we Kashmiris call Pann, celebrated around Ganesh Chaturti.
so yeah, the package arrived, tightly and safely packed, and with the prasad was some vermilion and a naervaen , the reddish yellow thread people tie around their wrists after puja. These were meant for what I call my Kashmiri birthday. Thats my birthday in the lunar calendar. I dont even know when it is.
All this got me thinking. I call myself atheist, agnostic, spiritual, dudeist, pastafarian etc etc, but the truth is that i dont really believe in anything. Or rather, i dont know what I believe in, because it takes a certain amount of conviction to believe in nothing. And the conviction is where i fall short.
My question is that if i dont end up believing in what my elders believe in, will the rituals also die there. The rituals and traditions that make us Kashmiri Pandits, that make up what family life, social life and personal life to some extent for people in my family and of my cultural background, will I carry them on or just leave them behind as a relic of the past or something irrational or illogical?
And even if i do keep these traditions alive, will there be any meaning, any point, any fulfillment from just doing without believing? Wont it be a sham? I feel guilty. And confused.
To think of it, isn't it sad that people like me might be the death of a culture, to save which our families fled their homes and were persecuted.
I'm proud to be a Kashmiri Pandit. But why? And is this pride of any use?
I never really had much hope from religion and even despised it, finding it pointless and many times a means to baser ends. Was I wrong, or just to quick to judge?
I dont know, and hope theres something or someone out there who has answers for me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am not doing anything.

P.S. This is the last post that I will syndicate to Facebook. I'm kinda tired of the whole note thing. This is the last time you will be tagged or not tagged in one of my notes. Those who for some reason do read this outlet of mine, you know where to find me.

If you dont know where to find me, heres a quick reminder ---> News and Rants

Tata-byebye for now.

The rather faltooness of things

2008-09-06T02:48:00.002+05:30

I never use hinglish, but there is always a first. And this is it. I'm kinda blown right now. LIke a quarter or so of rum and a couple of joints down, so pardon my whatever should be pardoned.
I am in Ranchi. I listen to ambient progressive metal. Those statements should ideally be mutually exclusive. But are not. This isn't an insult to Ranchiites or whatever they may call themselves (you cant trust people nowadays, they come up with funny names) just that i havent found people with a similar taste in music out here. Let us not forget, forgot. whoops.
I realize I need to study, but just cant seem to find any use in it. ITs not like I havent started but there just doesn't seem to be a point. And so there.
The search for potential girlfriend candidates goes on......... and on....... and on. Yet there doesn't seem to be a Land Ho!!! in earshot. Hahahaahahahah. Land Ho!.haha. ha. hmm.
We sang hindi songs today. Was fun.
Looking for somebody worthwhile online right now, but the results are in the negative.
yeah.

After extensive editing.
----------------------------------------------
Listening : ISIS - The other. Genre : Aforementioned.
Reading : Chariots of the Gods, Story of philosophy. And maybe my textbooks.
Feeling : Wasted. But in a good way. 8)

Happy. Are We? Am I? Gooblah?

2008-08-21T03:04:00.002+05:30

Reasons. Required? Kill. Mate. Clean room. 1979. Scared. Hope. Future. Decimation. Annihilation. Sound. Climax. Crescendo. Staff. Notes. Bhaiya. Guitar. Itch. Body. Irritant. Freak. Self Respect. Get laid. Score. Weed. Smoke. High. Ciggarette. Need. Shiver. Cold. Sick. Flu. Class. Miss. Fail. Die. Sad. Drink. Whiskey. Why not? Friends. Food. Vows. Ties. Placements. Job. Life. Point?.Lungs. Air. Mucs. All over. Survive. Sing. Breath. Play. Song. music. expression. Autorickshaw. Bargain. Headfuck. A-hole. Porno. Heroin. Night clubbing. the passenger. Shit. City. Car. BAckseat. Hickey. Vampire. Blame. Shame. Heartbreak. Circle. Spiral. Downward. Gurutvakarshan. Friends., Mannerisms. Waddyfuck!!!! Hair. Curly. Big. Lack. Inferiority. Seclusion. Sardar. Fit in. Fun. Ass. Pussy. Enough.

The Eternal Optimist

2008-07-15T23:32:00.002+05:30

I'm the one who says the glass is half full when its half empty. I'm the one who says "oh, theyll grow back" when i've just been castrated. I'm the one who says there is still a glass' worth when we're at the last pitcher. I'm the one saying its alright, when the CIA thinks we're the Al Qaeda top brass. I'm the one saying she'll come back to me, when she's already told me to fuck off a hundred million times. I'm the one trying to download a movie on a 28.8 kbps dial up. I'm the one saying this shit wont give me a hangover, after popping a dozen aspirins. I'm the one who thinks hes gonna get laid after wearing shades to the night club. I'm the one who expects a phone call from the rickshawallah, after loosing his phone. I'm the one who hopes to pass after submitting a paper clean as clean as a Mormon. I'm the one who expects his parents to forgive him for being kicked out of school. I'm the one who thinks his new cartilage piercing will heal in a day. I'm the one who hopes to get thin,rich and popular in 21 days. I'm the one who'll always say 'arey chill yaar' after insulting the local gunda.
I'm the eternal optimist.

Now Feeling : The beginnings of a hangover.
Now Playing : Red Hot Chilli Peppers - My Friends.
Now Reading : Just finished Wanted.

Tool is best enjoyed after

2008-07-12T01:47:00.001+05:30

a couple of pegs of single malt.

Glenfiddich is

2008-07-12T01:22:00.000+05:30

nice.

Shit

2008-07-12T00:37:00.000+05:30

happens.

Beer in transit

2008-07-10T11:13:00.001+05:30

Me n nath, beer and fish fingers. In cal. On my way to bombay. I was broke by the way.

Residential angst

2008-07-08T13:13:00.002+05:30

This isn't my room. Its my friend's. But he is in Calgary, Canada. While I am living in his room in B.I.T. Mesra, Ranchi, Jharkhand, India.
Ha. Haha. Hahahahahahahaha. Cough.

Home

2008-07-08T02:39:00.003+05:30

Two more days. I'll be in Bombay, the city I like to call my home. But is it?
OK I've lived a major part of my life there, 13 years of officially residing there. But then the three and a half years in Muscat, the 6 months or so in Faridabad, and now the better part of a year in Ranchi. Where do I belong?

And to top it all of, I'm a Kashmiri, whose been to Kashmir for only a week. Cant help that, but what the fuck?

In muscat, I bitch about the lack of freedom, and excess of boredom. I mean its a really nice place, peaceful, quiet, comfortable etc etc, but it is a little suffocating. And I cant really enjoy it because I'm not 21 and dont have a car.

Ranchi, dont let me get started. But since you really cant help it, im getting started anyway. First of all I'm not even really in Ranchi, i live 15 km away. so I'm still a lot of cash away from the closest thing that I have to a city nearby. And yes, theres no McDonalds, no Pizza Hut, no subway and the list can go on. But there is freedom, cheap booze and other inebriants. And very few people of the fairer sex. (Atleast ones I can converse with.)

Im not in Bombay enough to tell you what I dont like about it, but Im also not there long enough to feel at home. I go there, have a hell of a good time and then get the fuck out. Maybe its just the familiarity that makes me want to call Bombay home, but I cant can I? Its just not true.

So where do I belong?

It might be extremely self important of me to think that I'm the only one who goes through this dilemma, but what the hell, this is my blog, these are my thoughts, which for some reason I type out for the whole world to see.

I want to go home.

----------------
Now playing: A Perfect Circle - The Hollow

Now Feeling : Homesick. Does that apply. And my knee still hurts. Its been 2 bleeding months almost.

Now Reading : I should be studying Data Structures in C++, but I'm reading Wigu.

Scapegoat : The Final Draft

2008-06-03T04:40:00.004+05:30

And im done. Phew. And heres the final draft of Scapegoat. As usual comments and money or any other kind of material gifts are welcome. By the way, Disclaimer : No offence meant to anybody. At all. Except for maybe Conservatives. Fuck you.
And now, back to the story.
---------------------------------------------------------
Scapegoat

So there was a goat. Pretty funny isn’t it your average goat. You know, the baaing, the horns, the shaggy coat, the tendency to eat anything that’s greens and doesn’t move and then the tendency to shit as they move, so all in all, it is a pretty absurd thing. So yeah, back to the point. Rather, back to the goat.

So this goat, he wasn’t just any goat. He was the Scapegoat. Well that’s the last official title he held. In an earlier time he was called Tannnypa, or Toothnipper. He was the kid of Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder, Thor’s chariot goats. You must be wondering why I say was. Well that’s because he was disowned, by his parents and the Aesir, the old Norse gods. Don’t ask why, oh, well I’ll give you a brief anyway. It involved a lot of mead, a couple of wood nymphs and the birth of a new and irritating race called Fauns.

Disowned by the Norse, he was picked up by the Jews. Strange isn’t it. Well, so here is old Tannypa, in the hands of the Yehudis. Not being the type for long toungue twisting names, they just called him Ychnip, pronounced Yecchhnip. For convenience’s sake lets just call him Nip.

Nip was owned by the Levite Jews. They were the ones in charge of the temples and scriptures and all things holy. Nip was their special sacrificial goat. He was the one they would sacrifice when the bigwigs like David and family came around. Now you must be wondering how that works? Well Nip isn’t your regular goat is he? Nip comes from a family of goats who trace their lineage back to The Goat, the first one, from when the earth was created and blah blah blah. And he did get some employee benefits from the Aesir didn’t he. So of course he was immortal. And pretty striking too look at. He had the whole package, gigantic curly horns, long silky white fur and um the package to go with the package, if you know what I mean. If you don’t, then read up on your euphemisms.

So every once in a while the Levite priests brought out Nip, to be slaughtered in the honor of whichever big mother thought it was time to wash away a few sins. It was a pretty good deal actually. The priests got their dough, enough to last a long time. And Nip was well fed for a couple of days, and then all he had to do was a little painful regeneration. Not much for the royal treatment he was subjected to. Oh and the gentry did pay to see a magnificent capryd get its head chopped off in their honor.

Nip did eventually get tired of the whole decapitation routine, so he left the Levites, but not after poking the grand Priests grander derriere, breaking half the urns and pissing all over the Ark of the Covenant. Oh and the Covenant sure was pissed. Fleeing the scene of crime and sacrilege he swam to ancient Greece.

There he had a few dalliances here and there. He got the famed Amalthea knocked up. You know, Zeus’s foster mother. So you can imagine after Nip’s Norse-Jewish hybrid Billy the Kidd, that thunder god was a piece of baklava. The greek pantheon got so sick of him they offered him a constellation if he would get out of Greece. Hence Capricorn.

Nip was bored. He went back to Judea, just to see if things were a little different. Turns out it was the time of the Messiah. Curious to see who this long haired git was, he went down to Bethlehem. Turns out this Messiah guy was just entering the world. Nip, being the feisty bugger he was, instead of blessing him like all the other animals, he give him a whiff of L’essence de goat. Lil’ Messiah man, not all that well endowed at that age, was mighty jealous. He made up his mind to take revenge. And to this day his followers say that Lucifer is part goat. Part, not even whole goat. So there.

Nip, mighty tired of the whole civilization and organized religion scene, thought its about time to just explore the world, and also the various avenues of gainful procreation.
He went to Gaul, Alba and Abootland. For those not in the know that’s France, Scotland and Canada. Oh and he did leave behind his legacy, the French Dahu, Wild Haggis on Scotland and Wampahoofus in Vermont. Strangely, all these have been reported as goat like creatures but with one pair of legs shorter than the other.

He forgot one vital detail though, the Jews. They weren’t going to let him go scot free. The Levites did catch up with him just as he had reached India, where he was planning to meet a distant cousin, Kali’s goat. Well the Jews did have a right to him as his last mythical employers. To pay for the havoc he had wreaked in their temple, he was made an offering to Azazel and sent out into the desert, burdened with sins of mankind. He was the scapegoat for all mankind. Literally.

Nip, not one to sit down and cry about it, did eventually find his way out of this quandary. He did meet Azazel, the devil, and sold him the idea of a Hell. And that’s where they put all the sins too. The Unrepented Sins of Azazel they decided to call it. In exchange for this, Nip got his slate cleaned by all major pantheons and religious authorities, because if you look at it, he did do them a big favor. Now free of guilt and any criminal record, Nip is freelance marketing consultant and connoisseur of wine, women and all things exotic. He has houses all over the world but prefers to live in a chateau near lake Lucerne.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I would like to thank all the worlds major religions for giving me something not to believe in. And all of the worlds history and mythology, for giving me something to read and write about. And goats.

----------------
Now playing: Janis Joplin - Piece Of My Heart

Now Feeling : Tired, relieved and bit fucked up after tiff with folks over getting home late and partaking in scented smoke related activities.

Now Reading : Nothing. And im glad. Stories are a headache. But i still love em.

Now watching : Chris Crocker. Its pathetic.

Work in progress. Title : Scapegoat

2008-06-01T03:55:00.003+05:30

Story im trying to work on. Got a bit of writers block towards where i stopped.
Comments will be appreciated. Or neglected. Or shot down.
Any way. here goes.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So there was a goat. Pretty funny isn’t it your average goat. You know, the baaing, the horns, the shaggy coat, the tendency to eat anything that’s greens and doesn’t move and then the tendency to shit as they move, so all in all, it is a pretty absurd thing. So yeah, back to the point. Rather, back to the goat.

So this goat, he wasn’t just any goat. He was the Scapegoat. Well that’s who he is now. In an earlier time he was called Tannnypa, or Toothnipper. He was the kid of Toothgnasher and Toothgrinder, Thor’s chariot goats. You must be wondering why I say was. Well that’s because he was disowned, by his parents and the Aesir, the old Norse gods. Don’t ask why, oh, well I’ll give you a brief anyway. It involved a lot of mead, a couple of wood nymphs and the birth of a new and irritating race called Fauns.

Disowned by the Norse, he was picked up by the Jews. Strange isn’t it. Well, so here is old Tannypa, in the hands of the Yehudis. Not being the type for long toungue twisting names, they just called him Ychnip, pronounced Yecchhnip. For convenience’s sake lets just call him Nip.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is just the intro. Thinking of building on this. So yeah, lemme know watya think.

Um.. yeah....10 favourite. OK.

2008-05-30T00:17:00.004+05:30

Wokay. I got tagged. No thanks Arvind. I'm on holiday, I dont need this kind of brain taxing shit. Anyway, to get down to the dirty stuff...

Here goes. In no particular order.

There might be a one subconsciously though.
*Facebook
Its not even a pastime anymore. Its an addiction, a compulsion, a .. you get my drift.
Its aliive. Because it keeps on adding new feature that just pull me in deeper. For example the option to block application invites. Beautiful. Heroinlike.

*Goats
One of my favourite webcomics. Beer, conspiracy theories, theoretical physics, satanic chicken and New York, what else do you need.

*Stumble Upon
Its just too good. Has kept me occupied for months on end.

*Wikipedia
Information enough to fill a couple of thousand libraries. And another major pastime.

*Questionable Content
Another one of my favourite comics. As indie as indie can get. I think. Because I dont know shit about indie culture.

*Tool Shed
A fanpage for one of my favourite bands.

*Textfiles
A depository of information from a forgotten age of communication technology. Its got ASCII porn. And anarchist cookbooks.

*Slashdot
News for nerds. Stuff that matters

*Erowid
To get to that place. Drug encyclopaedia

*BIT Mesra
My beloved college. Im checing this site out 24X7 only because i really need to know my results. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH too much pressure

I tag Sahej, Rushi, Aiman and Hathi.

And if they don't comply, i'll tell Arvind.

----------------
Now playing: Radiohead - Planet Telex

Now Reading: Rant by Chuck Palahniuk, for the second time. And various webcomics.

Now Feeling: Clean. In more than one sense. And lonely, because theres no one to fight. The lil fuckers gone to manali. Hence I'm also jealous. And I really need a ciggarette.

Sloth, Despair and a little fruit youghurt. Kill me now.

2008-05-11T03:22:00.004+05:30

One week of holidays. Bah what bullshit. Im sitting at home, clinging to my laptop as if its an IV, whatever disco shit passes for rock nowadays spewing from the telly, I want to kill myself. No seriously, I do. I hate the state I'm in. I might be getting a job. Imagine that. An end to the perfect Lebowskian or rather Dudeist little microcosm i was living in. I enjoy sitting on my ass the whole day, but I become restless. Then I don't have anything worthwhile to do. Endless fucking loop. Why does the singer of The Strokes look so fucking sleepy. I love that song Piece of My Heart, Janis captured heart rending in that intro, captured it, framed it and put it up on the wall. My brain cells are lemmings. Oh my whatever or whoever the fuck I believe in, Jay-Z and Linkin Park are on. If I didn't like my TV, I'd blow it up right now. People cheering to that stuff. I used to listen to that stuff. Bullet. Head. Mine. Dishkyaoon.

I am. Thats the saddest thing that ever happened. Once I became aware of my existence, sentience wasnt far away, i learned to envy, because I found other people. I cant be happy because there are so many people who the things I want. Being happy with who you are is an art long forgotten by people who aren't happy. Fucking loops. Surreal pig in that VH1 add. Intellectual porn. I'm outta my head. Seriously, my mind is somewhere near my liver right now, bile you see. Hopefully something good is on now. RHCP, lets see what they present me with. SO far so good, nice melodic, Anthony is a little too high, Johns doing his work with the lalalas and slide sustains.Nice brohood kind of song. Anthony your going toooo high. Whats the name of this song. Go John, solo it up, anthony shut the fuck up, flea got a nice love tattoo. I want one, but not love, but something meaningful to me. Right now loves a fucked up thing in my book. Nanananananaaaaaaaanananananananaaana. Naaaaaaa na, Naaaaa na. Desecration smile, thats what the song is called. Evanescence is on now. I'm temporarily deaf for a while.

Why, don't I like the music I used to, why do I search for different stuff to listen to. What clique am I part of. I dunno. Why are cliques needed anyway. Writing supposed to improve the writer's language skills. Hahahahahahaha. Fucking hahahahahahahah. This laptop is irritating me now. About time I stop this spontaneous narrative. I'm getting bored. AAaaaaarg. I said it, I just had to. Why don't I have a bar stockpiled with beer and whiskey. Scotch to be precise. Beers should be preferably Corona or Kalyani Black Label Strong. Plain White T's, cant believe I liked a song they made, and now they are playing some sort of degenerate, devolved teeny punk. Beep, beep beep beep, homing missile activated. Kaboom. It'll be the end of wherever these little wankers are. Arrgh, why am I so hateful. Don't know, but its fun. I hate, what do I hate??? I know I like Jack Johnson's music. I wish I had talent. I wish I knew what to do, or had some sort of Idea what I'm good at so I'd have some vague idea about what I'm to do with this biological timespan know as life.

Everyone should have a gun, it should be mandatory. Just one bullet, to take their own life, or somebody else's, when they're int that little cesspool of despair, or the hot lava pool of anger. t'll be fun. The fuckin place wouldn't be so quiet then. Aaargh, bang, another one bites the dust. Population problem solved to some extent. People would be employed in arms factories. Is simple plan even rock. What is rock?? Is there a definition. Or is it just not what rock isn't. Oh somebody please clarify. The next person I meet who likes simple plan will get slapped or choked or nipple crippled, whatever.

Person : Hey Wali!
Wali : Hey! Do you like Simple Plan?
Person : Yeah, I think theyre cool and theyre lyrics are really meaningful.
Wali : Die!!!!!!
Person : Aaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhh or Eeeeeeeeeeeek or Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwch (all in pain)

Man theres something seriously misanthropic with me today. Me likey.

I hate the way things seem to turn out. I have an inferiority complex. Because of someone younger than me and very close to me.

Finally something good is playing. But what the hell is it? Sounds very NWOBHM to me. Slight psychedelia observed. And I still don't know who that was. My life will forever be incomplete.

Why should lying give you a long nose? A short penis would be much more effective.

IM really sad. I need a hug. But there ain't anybody ever there to oblige.

Warning the above line was a call for love and attention. Gimme a hug. Heheheheh.
I might be mentally ill.

I think I should stop. Seriously, this could be bad for me.
And theres nothing good to watch on the telly. I'm so fucked.

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Now Listening : A mad fiddler.
Now Reading : Questionable content, by J. Jacques, kickass indie comic.
Now Feeling : Bored, depressed, happy, confused, hungry, fat, suicidal, not in the mood for musicals. At different times, in moderate doses.

The Adventures Of Psycho-Chicken

2008-03-16T23:16:00.003+05:30

Brrr, Its cold. Where am I? This coop is rather strange, and why is my head hurting??
This is strange, very strange. A moment ago I was rutting happily with, hmm what was her, oh fuck it, one of the chicks, and the now I'm here. I feel like I've gone cuckoo.
Is this the after-life??? Or is this just some kind of purgatory, after which the Great Cock up there will welcome me into his coop, with St. Peter at the poultry gates. Wait a minute, the last that i remember, I was an atheist. Oh Fuckakakakadooooo!!!!!!!!!!

The company here is rather strange. Theres some vegetables here, and containers of BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Is this hell??? But whywhwhywhywhywhy????? I was such a good little rooster and I grew up to be a big horny cock, isn't that what good poultry are supposed to do??

I wonder what awaits me now. Demons, maybe if I've been bad enough then a rendezvous with the big bad cock, Satan himself. Woah, theres light, and its a little too bright and white in here. Aaaargh. But now theres place to walk. Let me run out.

Oh fuck, this must be hell, theres big demons breathing smoke, and some of them holding long poking things theyre using on theat big platform, and theyre laughing and shouting, ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Well, I wasnt top cock of the coop for nothing, I'll show these demons what im made of. Ill charge right at them, give them the pecking of their lives. Cock-a-doodle-dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

See, how that big one jumps around, where are you going, chicken????

Aaargh, somethings got me, well atleast i went down fighting, aaaaa!!!! where am I going . Pukwaaakaaaaaaa.....................

And a plate of chilli chicken was served.

I dont think it went down very well.

Based on a real incident.

----------------
Now playing : Vishnu - Shadows of a Bright Moonlight

Now Reading : Swithin's workshop journal, from which I have to copy 5 experiments, damn last minute work.

Now Feeling : How would you feel when you have to write 5 boring experiments in one night.

One thing I hate.

2008-03-15T21:58:00.002+05:30

Of many that is. I do hate a small number of things, and this is a recent addition, or is it.
What am I talking about???? Alright, what I hate, really hate is that small bit of time, when you're awake, not really sleepy,but just ready to fall asleep, awaiting that wave of drowsiness to hit you. Your eyes are closed, you're lying in a comfortable position and most importantly you try and keep your mind blank, but still the sueño bueno eludes you. And its exactly at this moment that all the one thing that you don't want to think of, the one thing that depresses you, moves right into the empty space in your head. And the worst part is that it just won't go, not until you actually fall asleep, which generally takes a while.

Its stuff like this that makes me dread going to sleep, unless I'm really drowsy, or any other situation where I have nothing at all to do or even think off.

So, sleep on.

Counting sheep doesn't help, because the sheep generally turn into whatever it is you don't want to think of but are unfortunately thinking of.

----------------
Now playing: Shakti - Get Down And Sruti

Now Reading : Just finished Charles Burn's Black Hole, but nowadays I'm reading Feynman's Lectures.

Now Feeling : Sleepy. OH FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

February's Revenge

2008-02-28T12:07:00.002+05:30

Months are alive. February took her/his/its (??????) revenge on me. Just minutes after publishing the last post, I went out to answer nature's call, a very long call, but i will spare you the details.

So I reach my room, unlock it, and the door was supposed to open, but strangely it didn't. I kicked it for about half an hour but to no avail. After about half my lobby was up, they forcefully put me to sleep, in somebody else's room.

Morning, i go to class in somebody else's clothes, with no books files anything. Strangely February showed me sympathy by canceling class. Got back to hostel, scored a ladder from somewhere, Chhabra climbed up, woke up the dead drunk guy in my room and it was a happy ending. Minus the drunk guy, who was just a figment of my imagination.

Arrgh February. Oops sorry, i love you, February, Mother/father/thing full of power and benevolence.

I hope ass licking helps.

February

2008-02-28T03:42:00.007+05:30

February, a troublesome month. I have a real lovehate relationship with it. It has a full quota of birthdays, events, ups and downs to be extremely eventful,satisfying and depressing. And the best part is that this february has 29 days, so its still got 2 whole days to fuck with my life. For example my exams start on the 29th. If this was not a leap year, then they would have started in march. Would that have been better???

This month is a month of love, because of Valentines day people, say. Well this V-day, just like all the other v-days of my life, ive been single. Woohooo. But I did fall in love, with two songs, Hey There Delilah by PLain White T's and Morey Piyaa by Orange Street. This fact is proved by the number ive listened to each song continuously, onandonandonandon in an endless loop.

This month I discovered one of my favourite places in college, the riverside, which i have mentioned before. Its my haven, where i go when i want to get away. The conveniently located cigarette shops also help.

This month had bitotsav and music night, two big events, got me pretty fucking busy,exhausted and elated. Disappointed too, after some nasty turn of events. Like a barber refusing to shave of my mustache.

February also has some birthdays of close friends, so i got a good chance to whack butt and wish people.

February is named after a ritual of purification. Wonder what that has to do with anything?

I love you. I hate you. Hahahahahahahahahaha. Cuckoooo.

I hate stream of consciousness . Nothing ever goes as planned.

----------------
Now playing: Orange Street - Morey Piyaa

Now Feeling : Sleepy but not sleepy. Strange. Must be the caffeine and nicotine playing havoc with my nervous system. Bloody drugs.

Now reading : Lucifer, physics notes, R&H, Smile smses from Airtel. The last ones really fuck up my day.

P.S. : Almost forgot, one highlight, i went for a very impromptu road trip to dhanbad with friends, for a Them Clones gig, where we were mistaken for the band, roadies, and finally had free beers with the band themselves. And the best part, somebody wanted to take a photo with me because I look SUPERCOOL!!!!!!!!. Beat that.

Owww, my eyes pain

2008-02-23T03:59:00.003+05:30

I am in the initial stages of sleep deprivation. Weird day actually, both yesterday and today. Lets see what the rest of today holds. CAD lab, lectures, bad food and hopefully some sleep. I may start studying though.

Short post.

Haha.(Nelson style)

Now playing: Bob Dylan - Most Likely You Go Your Way And I'll Go Mine

Rambling on..................

2008-02-15T03:41:00.005+05:30

I'm sitting in a peaceful place. Trees on three sides and open fields in front of me. The wind just makes it better, blowing coolly across my face, making the leaves rustle in an oh so perfect way. The sparrow chirps, the occasional cuckoo calls and every once in a while a myna's song. Bliss. Who wouldn't be happy here?? Well me.

I am calm, peaceful and at ease, but not happy. I see myself falling apart at the seams. The threads of whatever sanity I had left are slowly coming loose. But nothing can hurt me here and now, because here, I am alone, truly alone. Away from friends, family or anybody I know, in the peaceful embrace of nature, which though soothing,cannot calm my troubled mind. I know, I don;t know. Why have I come here?? when I could have been in my room, or someone else's room, in class, in the canteen or anywhere else. But I am here, and whatever it was that pulled me to this place, I am thankful for it. About time for a cigarette break.

Ahhh.

THat done. Now what was I getting to?? Yeah. Every experience in life counts. Everything you say, do or think, every place you go, its all a part of who you are, your identity, your persona. Ive been aching to say this.

I have regrets, loads of them, but still, everything I've done makes me who I am. And I am, if not proud, but at least satisfied with one thing, who I am, regardless of what I want to be, what I could've been and all those other things.

Now playing: Pink Floyd - Atom Heart Mother: Father's Shout/Breast Milky/Mother Fore/Funky Dung/Mind Your Throats Please/Remergence
Now Reading : Watchmen by Alan Moore.

Now Feeling : Sleepy.

I got em Smoky Room Blues

2008-02-12T02:55:00.000+05:30

This post was actually meant to be a self critical post, but sadly it isn't. Instead its sad, very sad. Sorry I was trying to be ominous there. Nothing ever lives up to expectations, never. It might exceed, it might do the opposite of exceed, but never totally live up to it. Take this post for instance, what it could be and what it will be are two completely different things. You just witnessed the death of a thread of thought.

Im depressed, down, and so on. I write from a smoke filled room, now clearing up, because I'm out of cigarettes. If I were an ole nigger from the ole South, I'd be 'singin Them Ole Relationship Blues', but I'm a Kashmiri from Bombay, so im just sulking, and writing in this here blog. To cut the long story short, I was dumped, and I'm down. Well, who wouldn't be. Its just that it was so unexpected, both the time, and the person. It sort of shakes your confidence on people, makes you vulnerable and you end up missing her a lot more, than you ever did. I end up looking at the phone with a sort of longing. What should somebody in this situation do, cut all ties, cauterize the broken link that shouldn't have broken in the first place. Ok the metaphor was a little too much. But theres an upside, not really up, but something all the same. I understand all those breakup movies, I understand what people I know have gone through. But it hurts. A lot.

I miss you.

Does letting the other person know what you feel like make you weak?? And whats wrong with being weak?

I should go get a life.

But from where??

And I'm not racist.

Dont think I can write anymore.
Ive loved and lost, a little too much. And fool that I am, I'm taking centrestage and announcing it.

Well it ain't all that wrong to seek attention.

Back to the topic.I should stop writing right about NOW.

Now playing: A Perfect Circle - The Hollow (take 1)

Now Reading : Whatever I'm writing, and have written.

Now Feeling : Haven't I written enough about that.

I really really miss you.

I'm pathetic aren't I.

Tales of resolve and willpower.....

2008-01-16T05:38:00.000+05:30

of both of which, the author has negligible supplies. Seriously, I have so many things on my to do list, and even more on my not to do list, but sadly neither of these lists ever have items checked off them. For example, its been more than a week since I moved back into hostel, and my room is more or less a 10'X10'10' dumping ground. I sleep on half my bed, the rest being taken over by stuff (generalizing , so that i don't get into unnecessary details). Every morning i wake up and dig my hand into this pile and whatever comes out, voila! are my clothes for the day.

Back to more pressing matters, I don't have any willpower. Bad habits grow and flourish within my humble shell. But who is to say whether these habits are bad or good, or just habits. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGH! Society.

Isn't that just so typical of me, put the blame on somebody else, and give a big fuck you to judgmental people, who have been for a while, my pet peeve.

Getting back on my track from my judgmentalist misanthropy (WARNING! Author has just tried to coin his own phrase, which by most English dictionaries and grammar books, is wrong) i just cant continue doing something in which i have to put a conscious effort and doesn't afford me some enjoyment.To give up something, or take up something new, are not things that come easily to me.

Im tired criticizing myself, so fuck you, voyeurs. (Just kidding kind readers, i love my readership, limited as it is).

Cheers, (not that i have a drink in hand, but I would like you to believe so)

Bracket Addict
AKA Wayward Listener

Watching : Just finished Taare Zameen Par, a beautiful movie, and now watching season 18 of The Simpsons

Reading : Nothing, strangely.

Listening : Alice in Chains - Nutshell

Tales from the pot

2007-12-23T01:29:00.000+05:30

The Shutterbug

Camera in hand, he walked on. And on, and on and on .............. The plateau seemed endless. Though the horizon seemed a finite distance away, it never got any closer. Every time something interesting came up, man, animal, plant or rock, anything whatsoever, a sudden click and snap, photo taken. He didn't know why it happened, why he photographed everything that caught his attention. Its not like he wanted to. With the camera attached to his hand, he just couldn't get rid of it. And the clicking, was even more automated than a reflex, as if somebody , rather something else was forcing him to point and shoot.

The last few days had been the strangest of his life, no food, no water, no sleep, like a long speed trip. But he wasnt spun, no sireee, he was quite content, at least physically, especially after clicking the odd photograph.

to be continued .........

or maybe not.

Boooooorrrriiiiiiing

2007-12-16T01:44:00.000+05:30

My endless dilemma, my problem child, back to haunt me. Its a monster of my own creation. Confused, befuddled, clueless???? Let me explain.

Around the time my identity glands first started to grow, and I started developing, what I think is my own identity (the identity question shall be dealt with extensively at a later time), I began to distance myself from some of my erstwhile friends (it could have been the other way around, as in they were repelled by my "identity"). I just found them too shallow, way too fixed in the mundane (like I'm oh so above it all)
that distances grew.

Its not that that i regret it, but every once in a while i find myself longing to do the stuff they do, to be like them, or to be them, because in their "mundane" aspects, they do kick ass. Then I begin to doubt myself, my identity. (Im not gonna put quotes around identity again, and lo and behold, to get around the quotes, i ended with these useless lines of bracket literature.) I start questioning myself, wondering, were my identity glands actually mutated, making mine an X-identity!!!!!! (sorry, sorry, sorry. Its like I need constant monitoring for corny jokes)

I think I'm going to OD, on introspective tosh. My Facebook addiction has finally started to take its toll. Hmmm, hmmmm, "finally started" isn't that an oxymoron???

Listening to : Jack Dangers - Darkly Mix

Reading : Freakonomics, Gloom Cookie, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Arabic road signs.

End of transmission.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Reader,

This the blogger's supervising entity communicating with you. If you read this blog to get to know the author, then I have something for you. Notice he is so fucking inconsistent, he can't maintain the same format over say, even 3 or 4 posts. Baahh!!!! he is pathetic. If you don't know why you read this blog, then read it cause it wont help you find purpose, but it will make you feel way better bout yourself because you cant be more clueless than this frood.
Adieu

I.S.T.Y.
(I'm Smarter Than You)

The Aural accessories Gnomes strike again

2007-12-12T04:18:00.001+05:30

Damn, its like its written in my destiny or something, "If there is something said person possesses that said person thinks looks quite good on him, then said person will lose said thing." Now just for the effect, imagine that was said at a very high speed like those mutual fund advertisements on TV. Sorry. I am just plain crazy you see.

Its just that the fact that I lost a part of one of my favorite studs/spear thingies (i don't know what its technically called) while sleeping , that has me really distressed. And the few kilos of mucus up my nose and cranial cavities ain't helping.

Since I don't have anything/body to blame for my loss (what do you mean???? Of course I wont blame me!!!!) this malicious act of burglary has been blamed on the Aural Acessories gnomes ( Bring on the sound effects). for those who dont who the Aural accessories gnomes are, well they are distant relatives of the underpants gnomes. Now if you dont know who they are, then shame on you!!! what are you doing reading this, go watch South Park!!

Enough nonsense for now, i need some time to make up some more crap to put up here.

Currently Listening to : NOTHING, for a change.

Currently Reading : Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Transmetropolitan, Freakonomics.

Currently Feeling Like : Shit (Just generally, and the above events, so for all you loving readers out there, don't worry, your beloved blogger is safe and sound, if a little groggy)

P.S. : About the picture, thats me at my self centered best, go figure.

Big fish ----- little fish

2007-11-13T05:11:00.000+05:30

Physics lecture is the best time to let the synapses between my brains and my hands warm up, without using any unnecessary mundane day to day thinking processes. This specimen was done totally by my hand and my sub conscious, I think, because i dont knowwhat the hell its about. My vocabulary seems to be slowly descending down the little inlet to the sewer which can be found in wash basins, bath tubs etc.

Reading : Sandman : Endless Nights by Neil Gaiman. And Dave McKean's Cages. And my workshop journal (eeeyech!!!! i can taste the bleeding wood shavings, filed metal, coal dust, green sand and I am blinded by the dazzling spectra of what we know fondly as arc welding.)

And my latest favorite phrase : watchooo doin?????

Now playing: Dave Mathews - Crash Into Me

Je suis tres arty farty, comprenez - vous?

Arre baas bada naa yaar!!!!!

2007-11-05T19:37:00.000+05:30

One crazy weekend, 48 crazy hours, very little sleep, couple of beers, way too many friends. Class was a party, canteen was a party, my room was a party, the party was a party, my head was a party and I was party to all these parties. I was caretaker, conaisseur, maitre de, partaker of many and user, abuser and consumer of many more.

And now im cleaning my room, my clothes, the cafe and tryin to get it all clean out of my head. The whole batch together, unleashed on a sleepy city, an unsuspecting hotel, we wreaked havoc, unleasing a spew of smoke, burps, swears, laughs and puke all over the place.

Damn nothing philosophical or even slightly intellectual this time either.

With blood on my hands. (literally)
W. Listener

Wake up, and smell the insects, and also the tea you never drink, but is offered to you everyday, not to forget ................

2007-10-11T06:55:00.000+05:30

Strange days are here.I think i swallowed an alarm clock. Because things have started t oget really weird. Ok, ok let me get to the point, ive been waking up at exactly 6:44 am, for a couple of days. Actually, i need to rephrase, ive been waking up, on my own (which is the real surprise here) and when i look at the time, its exactly 6:44 am. Freaky innit.The weirdest part is that this always happens when i dont have the 8 o clock lecture in the morning. Somehow i wake up early, of my own accord, when i dont need to. And when i do need to wake for my 8:00 am lecture, one of my other alarm clocks ie my classmates, wakes me up at a very convenient 7:45. why does this happen??? No one knows, definitely not me. And more importantly, where does all my sleep go, because there never goes a day without me dozing off in class, or rather every class.

More for later, when i actually feel like writing.

Reading : Fell by Warren Ellis, Dark Side of The Moon by Bill Harris.
Listening to : 1200 micrograms, Pink Floyd (Ummagumma, thanks hathi)

Tyoun Dyun Dyoun Doun Da Doun Daaiiin Dounnn

2007-08-15T03:30:00.000+05:30

Its all a pattern. I seem to be going down an endless double helix (im vain and a downward spiral is too common and simple for me). I see myself getting shallower and shallower in my own eyes. My only means of entertainment is making fun of others and obscene homosexuality. What respite do i have, what means are there for a small vacation from my sitch, in which, by myself place i am which , is a bitch.
Please forgive me for the last line, it was a pathetic attempt at spontaneous poetry, which because of our hammered in ideals of poetry, is in rhyme. This happened beause of a dormant inferiority complex brought back to the surface by reading my younger brothers verses.

I was wondering, why do i blog?? Am i so short of friends, that i must make the whole world my confidante?. Do i just want to show off? Maybe i like to convince my self that i have some skill in some field, which to me seems to be called bitching.

I hate people, no not all , im not some kind of misanthrope. Ive hated some people ive been with for the last 4 years. people ive hugged, shaken hands with, talked to at length, collaborated with and so on. And i have now come to realise, my feelings towards them were mostly the result of the green eyed succubus that is jealousy (succubus and not monster cuz come on, both jealousy and a sucubus are attractive).

p.s. : this is not a suicide note.

Overload, Overflow and a lot of other words with similar meanings

2007-06-26T12:56:00.000+05:30

Its been a while since I have written anything in this most unholy of places, especially after my change of adress(i.e. the blog). A lot has happene in this time.
A recent event is my haircut. It brings this blog round a full circle, considering my first post was about a haircut happening to me. This latest froectomy took place a full 5 months after my last one, so the fro had grown considerably, to my satisfaction.

This brings me to a topic i feel very passionately about, discrimination and abuse of people who have curly hair and choose to grow it. Would any sane, peaceloving, atheistic/agnostic and most importantly straight guy like to be compared , continually to a child molester, confidence trickster and false prophet rolled into one. Isnt there any other figure of repute in the world who has an afro??? What happened to einstein, hendrix, bob dylan, michael enzeiger, shorty, undercover brother, ............ yada yada kapooie. Why then sai baba????

Say hello to the rug's topography
It holds quite a lot of interest with your face down on it
Say hello to the shrinking in your head
You can't see it but you know its there so don't neglect it

I'm taking her home with me all dressed in white
She's got everything I need pharmacy keys
She's falling hard for me I can see it in her eyes
She acts just like a nurse with all the other guys

Say hello to all the apples on the ground
They were once in your eyes but you sneezed them out while sleeping
Say hello to everything you've left behind
It's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it

I'm taking her home with me all dressed in white
She's got everything I need some pills in a little cup
She's falling hard for me I can see it in her eyes
She acts just like a nurse with all the other guys

Say hello to the rugs topography...

This is for her.
P.S. This is not by me, its a song by the band failure, covered by A Perfect Circle.

The next 4 years are gonna be an emotional void with short and occasional respites. But what i feel will never change.

Dear Diary

2007-05-20T11:54:00.000+05:30

Dear Diary
Its been a while. I think i have to start tellin myself what ive been doin for the past few days, so that those events can actually register. Ive written exams, met a mallu from bangalore, took in large amounts of alcohol, marijuana , bhajia pav, and chinese food. I did not take part in any debauchery ( what a shame). I did amitabh bachan impersonations, axl rose falsettoes, sang the blues while piss drunk, jammed with 3 other guitarists all out of tune. By the way, those looking for philosophical bullshit, sorry, wrong turn , fuck off. Or to be nice "Thank You! Come Again"

Waaaaah!!!

2007-05-08T08:52:00.000+05:30

This is one of my favourite funeral songs. Its the first time im putting somebody elses work up on my blog, but if monty python want money for this i ll pay them. Here it goes, its called Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life

Some things in life are bad
They can really make you mad
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle
Don't grumble, give a whistle
And this'll help things turn out for the best...
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.
When you're feeling in the dumps
Don't be silly chumps
Just purse your lips and whistle - that's the thing.
And...always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the light side of life...
For life is quite absurd
And death's the final word
You must always face the curtain with a bow.
Forget about your sin - give the audience a grin
Enjoy it - it's your last chance anyhow.
So always look on the bright side of death
Just before you draw your terminal breath
Life's a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life's a laugh and death's a joke, it's true.
You'll see it's all a show
Keep 'em laughing as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you.
And always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the right side of life... (Come on guys, cheer up!)
Always look on the bright side of life...
Always look on the bright side of life...(Worse things happen at sea, you know.)
Always look on the bright side of life...(I mean - what have you got to lose?)
(You know, you come from nothing - you're going back to nothing.What have you lost? Nothing!)Always look on the right side of life...

I really want to see eric idle sing this before my eyes. I have my own reasons for posting this.
Wa

Bloggers block

2007-04-26T22:54:00.000+05:30

Did i just say more than i mean to say? (Rhetorical question alert) Or did i say a lot of things not even related to what im trying to say? Why did i just put a question mark there? Does it deserve one, does it deserve to be called a question rhetorical or not. ( Should i have put a question mark there, or not ?@~#!!!!!!!!!!!) I think my freedom (or whatever it is that im 'enjoyin' now), has started to take its toll on me. I feel wasted, i have to force my self to read, to play guitar and do a few other things, which till a month ago had been absolute necessities for me, as they had been banned by the parental authorities.
I dont know what causes these abnormalities or wastedness or whatever it is thats happening to me. What i also dont know is why :

I wear my pants low
I got my ear pierced
I am or i act eccentric
I think about certain things and/or people incesssantly

Is there some sort of wise man on the mountain (literally or metaphorically) who can actually answer such questions. "Why are we here? What purpose do we serve?" doesnt really come into perspective until these more important more worldly questions are answered. Till then, signing off,

Why did the chicken cross the road???

P.S. : Sorry, for everything.

Living Rock

2007-04-20T22:31:00.001+05:30

P1000811
Originally uploaded by wayward listener.

Weirdass rock formations,pic by me, from wadi saitan , oman.

Exhausted

2007-04-02T15:45:00.000+05:30

My literary reserves have been exhausted.

The corny filters are now up and fully functional. Sorry for the inconvenience.

This is not meant to be read ( I know you leeches will jump to this)

2007-03-31T19:23:00.000+05:30

If you dont like sentimental stuff , do yourself a favour and dont read this. This is an extremely personal entry, which due to temporary insanity i have put out for the whole world to see.
Its time. I am going to speak my mind. I know that by popular convention it should be heart, but all i know about the heart is that its a muscle. The mind on the other hand, is something that represents conciousness, conscience and will, or the lack of it . But this is all beside the point. Back to where i was, i am going to let down my corny filters. Lack of effeminate or feminine( which is a better word) companionship has taken its toll. The last sentence might mean something totally gross, or overtly sexual, but it is not intended to. I am for lack of better words, in love, with the image of a girl. No, not her photo or something, nor a painting or a fictional character. This somebody i know and like a lot, someone i havent met for a loooong while. Hence the image. This image has all the pros , cons, flaws, and whatever is the opposite of flaws, that i have seen in her. To me she is what could be in extremely cliched terms be called "the one"( not keanu reeves. though i really like how he acts in a scanner darkly)
I dont know how long this status ive awarded to her will last.
Its not that some feelings arent reciprocated, she did tell me she likes me. Heres the fucked up bit (part 1), till the point of above revelations, she had been accorded status of closest best friend. And after said confession, i realised my feelings did go further then i thought the did. Does this make me an opportunist? cant say, never was one for social commentary.
Fucked up bit (part 2 ) is i dont know what she feels now, because of the fucking time gap and the uneasiness in and lack of communication.
Anyway,(yes i said it without the illegal s) the probably of or getting together is infinitesimal, given various factors like distance, state of minds, state of status accorded to each other, and other associated crap. Best of luck to me. If i say anything more, i will erase the fine line between my mind and the blog reading public's giant consciousness.

Brain wracking bass thumping junkies do not kil

2007-03-25T19:58:00.000+05:30

It is illegal to say " " anymore. This is a law that goes against all humanity, especially the masculine side of it. We have only a certain amount of words to say and after that all we can say is " um" or "er". Once that reservoir is exhausted we resort to " ". Now thats gone , is ther any hope at all??? Men, dishonest teens, innocently villified adoloescents will be forced to speak ther heart, guts, brains ,livers and spleens out. the whole world will suffer death by dismemberment.

Abomination

2007-03-11T11:38:00.000+05:30

Am i an abomination. Is it rational to like the Stones and Cradle of Filth at the same time. Isn't this some kind of blasphemy to the gods of rock n roll and black metal. Does black metal have gods , or does it have some perverse i hate red and love black kinda Lucifer. Did the fallen angel get friction burns while falling down??? So he was black with the scabs and then turned red with the itching. So black metal is really a way back to the roots throwback to occultish metal.

I really need to get stoned.

Been reading a lot of Iain Banks, 2 books in the past 2 weeks and totally 3 in the past year.

3 down 2 to go, and 24 loooooooooooooooong daaaaaaaaaaaays.

I wanna go to Scotland.

KerPlaaaang TerrWaaaaaaaaaaat!!!!

2007-02-21T02:57:00.000+05:30

We at Vivek Wali Inc, are proud to report the successful completion of farewell 2007, well, almost successful . The following objectives were , i am happy to say, achieved

Actually get down to dancing
Get a little high (towelie style)
Take a lot of pictures (semi succesful)
Act generally crazy
1st runner up in Mr ISM and Mr Talented

Some unwanted things

I actually had to see shujaudin
Big row with parents
I won Mr Genius
Didn't get high enough

I know its kinda lame to crib about winning something but i really felt that the Mr Genius could have gone to so many other people i know, it just went to me cuz im an advertised smart ass as Varun says.

7 days to the boards, and counting.
I am officially in love with the song Nymphetamine Fix by Cradle Of Filth. The reasons are tooo lengthy to explain.

Superwali

2007-02-09T03:23:00.000+05:30

Is it a bird, is it a plane, is it a flying cabbage.... no its a new super hero, one who will help all mankind transcend this futile plane , iiiiittsssssssssssss SUPERWALI with his amazing powers of selective involuntary invisibilty, the 24 hour stoned look and the extra potent " drugs are good"speech.
I have now discovered the magic of Bach and propose to listen to his music a lot. Dont know whether this is a fad.
I hate people who bite their cheeks while posing, i absolutely hate them , really fuckin hate them.
LSD is good. So drop some acid and squeegee your third fuckin eye.(shrooms should do)

Goodbye fair Gator, there be just two months twixt the morrow and my departure.

2007-02-04T04:12:00.000+05:30

Pure unalderated power over a multitude of waves is a feeling I miss. My abilitiies have been reduced to a considerably shorter bandwidth. I'm not allowed to use my amp anymore , boohooo.
Its been 2 months.
The future is bleaker yet, i must spend many more lunar phases away from my beloved gator( a name bestowed upon my guitar unknowingly by Shujaudin) and its adjoining doodahs.
Will i lose my still not undefeatable skills or will i discover hitherto unknown regions of virtuosoness???

Favorite Quotes (continued) :

Think for yourself and question authority - Tim Leary
I feel the same way about Disco as I do about Herpes! - Hunter S Thompson

Trousers of Time

2007-01-31T03:59:00.000+05:30

I'm tired of them. They hit me all the time. They don't let me think, sleep , study ,read ... (you get my drift).
Always pulling me away from what I'm doing, wasting my time.
They force me to go back in the past and look down the other leg, speculate and imagine.
Why don't they leave me alone, those bloody "What ifs".
P.S. : I'm not smart enough to make up that title, borrowed it from one of Terry Pratchett's books.

Favorite quotes (from books and such):

He was highly strung as a harp on amphetamines.(Terry Pratchett)
Give a man a fire and hes warm for a day, set him on fire and hes warm for the rest of his life.(Terry Pratchett)
What do atheists scream when they come?(Bill Hicks)

To be continued.......

Harvest time

2007-01-28T04:20:00.000+05:30

Harvest time again, chop chop , off goes my hair .
Board practicals from today, that is one of the reasons for the aforementioned calamity.
I hate writing like this, but i cant help it, just comes out the way it is. Growing hair is hard work.
Gotta fend off parents, teachers, gardeners et all to let it grow to an appreciable length, and then after approximately 3 months from the last haircut will come a somehow inevitable blow from below. Its either being sent home or the threat of flunking or even worse, making a bad impression. Dunno if this thing has a backdating feature, so i can post my past. hey, that sounds good.