Bloody MaryJane

Hello Again

2009-05-24T01:52:00.000+05:30

Hello Again.

Smoke/Umbrella/Water

2008-03-28T17:17:00.002+05:30

Pencil drawing I did

Moon River

2008-03-10T13:05:00.003+05:30

NIghttime

2007-12-10T20:00:00.000+05:30

Woman

2007-12-01T19:42:00.000+05:30

Balance

2007-11-18T13:18:00.000+05:30

Live.
To die.
To Live again.

Want

2007-11-17T16:02:00.000+05:30

(Transcript of inscription)

        It burns beneath your skin
        It burns into your soul
        It makes you what you are
And It tells you you're not whole

        So Burn
        So Yearn
        So kill and lie
        And love and cry.

        Its what you were borne of
        Its all you'll ever be
        Its why you can do anything
        Its why you are not free.

       So want
       So need
       So be a man.
       So know its why you want to live
       So know its why you'll die.

Lusi

2007-11-17T14:00:00.000+05:30

(Transcript of Inscription)

A fragile sanctuary
Creature of the sea
Hanging of by a thread
of mud and silt
and half a hope.
Your creator, your destroyer,
your friend and tormentor
surrounds you and waits
And rises, to fall, to rise again,
and try to reclaim you.

Hang on, Hang on,
Hang on to your hope,
Hang on to our prayers,
Hang on for this,
Hang on for me.

Hang on while you can
to your doomed attempt to be.
Then return to your river
and flow to the sea.

All Ablaze

2007-11-16T18:02:00.000+05:30

"I appreciate your concern, of course, but if you can find it in yourself to trust me, then you can rest assured that we will both be almost perfectly safe." the words rolled off His tonque, casually seductive, like everything else about him, and almost perfectly concealed the singular flaw they held in their midst, which She, nevertheless, could not help but notice. But perhaps, She thought, She was meant to. Perhaps He had chosen to cleverly highlight it, in the act of hiding it. This was then, no ordinary offer - this was a challenge - and it was almost perfectly safe.

There was a smile playing on His lips. She had not noticed it a moment before, nor had She noticed his expression ever changing, but yet there it was - cheerful, knowing and ironic, all at once - like He had been wearing it all along. He peirced Her constantly with his dark eyes, but the smile seemed to do much more than
that. While His gaze seemed to keep searching Her own for something, and She could hardly bear to look away, the smile seemed to strip away all her defences, laying bare all her thoughts, her secrets, her inhibitions - She felt more naked than She ever had before. His eyes had so far suggested that He knew something about Her, but now they contrived with His smile to suggest that He knew Her better than She could ever dream about knowing Herself. She was scared, but smiled inspite of Herself. In fact, She more than smiled, She was giggling, and at that, His smile broadened, taking on a new character altogther, infinitely more charming, cheerful and inviting. She was not scared any more, though She knew She had far more reason to be now.

The Cup lay between them. It was oddly shaped, with Its sides appearing both curved and sharp, a wide top plunging to a point, making a strange glass 'V', and very little stem connected it to the flat, round, glass base. Half of it was filled with the amber liquid, and the other half was taken up by dense, almost solid, smoky vapour, that ever curled out and upwards into the air, filling the room with a mellow fragrance She could almost smell. It was a captivating sight on Its own, and It created Its own atmosphere around Itself, seeming to fill up everything else.
She could not clearly see what It rested on, or what stood around It, She could see nothing but The Cup and Him. In fact, the only reason She could look away from Him was to stare at The Cup, and the only reason She could look away from The Cup was to stare at Him.

He reached out and picked It up, just as She felt Its weight in Her hands, which did not really seem to surprise Her at all. Together, They brought The Cup to Their lips, and His smile broke once more, as He winked, breathed in the capours, and siddenly upturned The Cup, seeming to drink down both vapour and liquid in one gulp. It went to Her head immediately, and Her insides were at once all ablaze. The fire crept from Her insides into His eyes, just as His eyes lit Her insides up. The Smell was all around Them now, and it was not mellow any more. Strong and musky, it was all She could smell any more.

Sighing, She fell into Him.

2007-08-20T15:47:00.000+05:30

Smoke swirled its way out of the end of my cigarette up to the starry, cloudless night sky in funny spirals, which I, in my current state at least, would no doubt have taken some time out to contemplate were it not for the face that I was in the presence of company. My company took another short swig from the bottle of Smirnoff before holding it out to me. And though I was somewhat momentarily distracted, I was not nearly distracted enough to ignore a half full bottle of Russia’s finest. I gratefully received and dutifully took a swig, savouring the odd taste it left in my mouth as it burned its way down my throat.

“Thinking of home, Saheb?”

I was not. But, uninterested in discussing the rather moot point, and not wanting to hurt the poor fellows feelings, I nodded vaguely, and turned to face him, returning the bottle to its (usually briefly occupied) resting spot between us. He too was staring upwards at the starry night sky, but was nodding back, in what I’m sure he thought was an understanding manner.

“Thinking of home, Anil?”

He turned his gaze towards me.

“Home is thinking of me” he replied, somewhat absently, before turning back to the stars.

I smiled to myself. Philosophical wordplay is not something you would usually expect from a semi-literate chauffeur from the proverbial “village”, but I had come to expect it from this man.

My work, I might be tempted to say, kept me away from home, but this would not be a completely honest statement. True, my position as a civil servant did ensure my posting in some of the most out-of-reach places in the country, far away from my home and family, but I could just as easily have gotten a far better paying job back home, well within reach of my “near and dear ones”. But there was I reason I had taken this job in the first place. The truth was that I, and no one or nothing else, kept me away from home.

The small hill town of S, is not, on the whole, a very disagreeable place to live in. I had access to all the basic necessities I had grown accustomed to growing up in the city, including clean drinking water, almost perfectly working sanitation, electricity and a decent F.L. Off Shop in close proximity. But it did get lonely, even for someone like me, which is my I was grateful for Anil’s company.

Anil was my personal chauffeur, my “driver”, paid by the government to ferry me about, in the white Ambassador they had provided for me, as I went about performing my duties. Sometimes, when the servant girl failed to turn up, he would cook for me, and every Friday night, or whenever we could, really, we would drive out to this remote lookout and share a few fags, some alcohol, and some conversation.

Even in the cosmopolitan world of modern India, few things could unite two men from such diverse backgrounds as we were, and a smoke with a bottle of liquor was one of them.

I leaned back against the door of the Ambassador, and, following Anil’s gaze to a small spot in the sky, asked

“Anyone in particular?”

“Perhaps, Saheb, perhaps…”

And this was one of Anil’s working class peculiarities, not that it could be called particularly peculiar, seeing as he shared it with more than half the country’s population, but it still seemed to mark us apart, at least initially. He would not call me anything but “Saheb”, or, if he was feeling particularly official “Saar”. But his “Saheb” had changed gradually, as we got to know one another, and by now it had become more a term of endearment than anything else.

“Have you ever loved a girl, Saheb?”

I turned to face him, but did not speak – I knew he was going to continue –

“She is there, still, back in my des – I never knew too many girls…I have not seen her in years, she must have children of her own by not…Ah…I was just a boy…”

He paused, stopped rather, because I knew he would not return to that sentence when he started talking again, and resumed staring at his spot of sky.

“I have a family…a family to support…”

He spoke more to himself than to me.

I said nothing.

“Still, it seems not to long ago…I was always a mischievous child, and one night I had stolen a few of Fathers biris, and was quietly smoking by myself in a somewhat hidden spot by the nala, taking great pride in each puff – I always was a mischievous child…”

He paused again, and smiled inwardly, a smile reflected on my face – Ah boyhood! And secret boyhood sins…

“I always thought that particular spot was my own little secret – sure, the other children had their own little common hiding spots, to escape prying adult eyes – but those were shared territory – I had always thought of this little mud hole as my very own…”

He took another swig from the bottle and handed it to me.

“She must have been very quiet on her feet, or perhaps I was too taken with my own little conquest that night, but I did not hear her walk up. All I know is that at some point I became aware of her presence beside me. I had seen her before, but not taken any special notice, too busy being a boy to bother with such choti-moti things as girls. But she was there, next to me, the last place I expected to find another human being at that moment, but, though I had every right to be, I was not scared – mujhe koi dar-var nahi lag saheb – I had never noticed her before, but she was an exquisite sight, in the reflected moonlight of the gutter, and she was staring at me, curiously, almost inquisitively, and she stretched her hand out and, just like that, I handed her the biri. She did not grab it from my hand and throw it in the gutter, as I had seen others of her sex do to older, possibly better men. She just held it, very delicately, between her fingers, and gave it a strange look, almost as if wondering what to do with it. And then, all of a sudden, she had popped it between her lips and took a puff, giving a funny little cough as she did…”

He stopped here, most dramatically, and I am almost sure, on purpose, as he lit himself another Gold Flake from the box that lay between us, next to the by now almost empty vodka bottle.

“I did not try to take it back from her…” he continued “I lit myself another one from the handful I had stolen and took a moment to admire her by now apparent beauty – she turned and smiled at me – making me blush, I’m afraid – she had caught me staring…”

Another dramatic pause as he took a long puff. You had to admire his skill at this.

“We spoke. I do not remember of what, it was far too long ago. All I remember is that we spoke, all the way till the sun had almost risen and we had to sneak back home to avoid arousing suspicion. And I remember that I was entranced, and it seemed we had spoken only a minute. I left home very soon after that – Father passed away – I had responsibilities now, a family, a family to support…”

He paused again, to take another puff, which he released with a rather drawn out sigh. This time, I was not sure it was deliberate.

“I do not know what love is, Saheb, I never had the time to find out – but she was a pretty girl…”

His voice trailed off. He reached for the bottle and took a gulp of the clear liquid. He held it out to me, but I did not notice it – his story had got me thinking, I was staring at my own little spot of sky.

“Thinking of home, Saheb?”

“Perhaps Anil…Home is thinking of me…”

I Don't Wanna Be Friends With You

2007-07-14T18:02:00.000+05:30

This is a Blues song I wrote about a very special friend of mine and some very funny heartache he went through some time back...

She’s the
Pretty Girl
With the sun in her eyes
And if you ever get lucky
Perhaps she’ll give you a smile

Well you know you’re pretty
But you’re so much more than that
You know I wouldn’t care
If you were ugly or fat

There’s so much more to you
Than the guys you like to screw
Would ever know

You deserve so much more
Than they can ever be
Oh honey can’t you see

I don’t wanna be friends with you
I don’t
Just
Wanna be friends with you
*I want more*
*I want more*

With all this time
There’s so much more we can do…

And I don't just wanna be friends with you

Girl I’ve known you for so long
But the way we are,
It just seems wrong

Honey, why wont see?
There’s just so much
That we can be…

Whoa,
I don’t wanna be friends with you
I don’t
Just
Wanna be friends with you
*I want more*
*I want more*
With all our time,
Theres just so much more we can do…

And Those are the words I’m gonna say
When I see my baby today

Oh then
Oh then
All a you shall see
How happy we are
My Baby and me!

And now she’s in the room
She’s lightin’ up the room
And now she’s lookin’ at me
Oh now she’s talkin’ to me

And shes says:

“I don’t wanna be friends with you
I don’t
Just
Wanna be friends with you
*I want more*
*I want more*

With all this time
Theres so much more we can be

Oh baby cant you see
I Love You honey
You’re just like a brother to me…:”

I Love Lucy

2007-06-25T14:46:00.001+05:30

So many times
She sat beside me
Crying on my shouldier

Her dark brown eyes
They opened up so wide
‘Coz little Lucy
Always cried.

Well she always
Was a very special girl
So soft and sweet and delicate
Oh he’d try a million times
But it’d never be enough
Five poems in total he’d dedicate.

She dwelt among th’ untrodden ways
I traveled among unknown men.
In strange fits of passion we spent our days
You’d never have know then.

She played with the elements
The sun and the mist
Like sweetest of honey
So sweet were her lips

Oh, sad little Lucy
I’d seen so little of you
I’d had you only for so long
I hadn’t had you enough.

Your beauty grew by the hour
Three years it grew in sun and shower
I wish you hadn’t left so soon
Oh, how I wish you had stayed

In my garden she played
And later relaxed in the shade
And once every week,
We had some fun
And my darling Lucy, never told anyone.

Sugar. Sweet Little Lucy,
From your honey pot heart
I drank until
I’d had my fill
I hadn’t drunk enough.

Before your mem’ry I kneel
You slumber did my spirit seal
Oh how I long to feel your touch
Oh lovely Lucy, I loved you so much

My Darling Lucy
I cannot wait for the day
When you will stand before me
And cry on my soldier again

Hey…

Sweet Little Lucy
As sweet as the night is gay
You know William loves you
And wants to love you all day

La La La Lucy
And this time
You wont have to cry
It always hurts the first time
When you La-La lose someone

La La La Lucy
Lucy don’t cry
Ha Ha Ha Lucy
Why wont you smile?

You know William loves you
He loved you
He’ll love you again.

Psycho

2007-06-20T19:39:00.000+05:30

I write too many poems...this blog has become less of a weblog and more of a repository for bad songs/poetry...so for a change, I'm posting one of the rare short stories I write. Note that in this case, "rare" does not necessarily signify "good", so don't say I never warned you!

He was laughing.

This was not something I’d been prepared for.

The pathetic little baby face and girl scream schtick, sure. I’d seen more than my fair share of those in my time.

The sickening piglike squeal as the victim slowly prepares fir the inevitable with a complete loss of any sense of dignity bit – of course – I’d seen more than a few of those too.

Even the angry grunt of defiance or the whole bad ass, devil-may-care spit in your face routine - much less common the other two, but I still enjoyed those the best.

But this…

I’d never seen anything like this.

He’d worked himself into hysterics by now, rolling around on the ground, battered and bruised and pointing right at me as kept laughing, harder and harder, building up to something I didn’t even want to think about.

It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen.

*Thump*

*Smack*

*Whoop*

“Ooooof”

“Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha…”

There was just no stopping this guy, this was like nothing I’d ever seen or heard of, this guy was something else – a real nut job, the genuine article - a for real, in the skin, cut-your-face-out-and-use-it-as-a-mask psycho.

And he just wouldn’t stop laughing.

It started to get to me – no amount to kicking or punching or stomping or choke slamming would get him stop.

This was the sort of situation where perhaps a change of tack was necessary, but I couldn’t really think of anything…My fists and my feet – they were all I really ever had, but there had to be more to me than THAT, right?

I mean, a playground reign of terror doesn’t last four years and two grades without SOME brains behind the obvious brawn, right?

I wasn’t just some big stupid oaf picking on people smaller and younger than him because he was too thick to study with kids his own age…RIGHT???

It wasn’t like in the movies, you know, where the underdog shrimp always comes out on top and I, the big bully overdog, get shown up for the big sissy that I really am.

It wasn’t like that.

No way.

I HAD to win.

Always.

I mean, its stands to reason, doesn’t it? I’m BIGGER, for godssake!!

“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA...”

It wasn’t fair…He couldn’t do this to me…I HAD him! I OWNED his ass!! He was only a tiny little fuck, not even a fucking challenge!

Oh fuck

He’s got me cussing again…fuck fuck fuck FUCK…my therapists gonna have a fucking FIT!

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…”

This is the part where the jumped up little shit gets up off his beat up ass and leads a mob of other jumped up little shits whom I may or may not have pwned in the past in joyous rebellion against me.

This is the part where they ALL start pointing and laughing at my fat, (lets admit it) ugly face and I become just another fallen pansy former bully entrant into the fallen pansy former bully hall of fame.

This is the part where they stop being afraid.

This is the happy underdog ending.

I am about to become a stereotype.

Not if fucking I can fucking help it.

“You’re gonna wish you were dead you little laughing cunt…”

*Smack*

*Thump*

“HA…”

*Whoop*

“Ha”

*Smack*

*Whoop*

“ha…”

*Smack*

*Thump*

“…ha”

*Smack*

*Crack*

*Squelch*

“fuck…”

And so fucking what if I spend the rest of my fucking life in fucking Juvy getting felt up by the guards and bigger, “badder” kids who’re pissed off because they got felt up by the guards and bigger, “badder” kids?

So fucking what if my fucking therapist has a fucking fit?

So fucking what if I never see the fucking Light Of fucking Day again?

So fucking what if fucking fuck is the only fucking swear word I can think of?

I am a hero.

A playground fucking legend.

I am the bully that didn’t run home to mommy.

I am the psycho that beat the retard kid into the fucking ground until his retard fucking palsied brains spilled out.

And don’t you EVER forget it.

...

2007-04-17T19:53:00.000+05:30

She smiles
and turns
and disappears
She steals your heart and your mind

They know
They’ve seen
But they will not tell
They make
Your smiles
But they will not sell

Fornicating on the streets
With all the people you will meet
They’re on the road
They’re in your bed
As The Guitar plays raindrops
With your head

A puddle of smoke
She melts away
It stays behind
It’s here to stay

She’s standing at the corner
As The Darkness screams your name
The only thing
There’s left to do
Is to find out who’s to blame

They know
They’ve seen
But they will not tell
They make
Our smiles
But they will not sell

Those Eyes
They burn
They burn a hole in your sheets
You wish she would
You wish she wouldn’t
Look at you so

Why do you stare
Little Lady
Why do I feel so strange
If I’m in love

This is not how I should be feeling

I’m dirty
I’m dirty inside
She knows where I’ve been
It’s all just a little
A little too much to take

I want to leave now
But there’s still
So much love left to make

She knows
She’s sin
But she will not tell
She owns
Your soul
And she’s up for sale

Fornicating in the streets
With all the creatures you will meet
She’s everywhere
She’s on your bed
As The Guitar plays raindrops
With your head

This is not how I should be feeling

This is not how I should be feeling

I’m going to be sick

And its only just begun

Lady

2007-03-18T18:19:00.000+05:30

Dressed to the nines
Shining brightly in the night
You look so pretty
As you look around self consciously

You’re trying so hard
To break a heart
Or two
You’re trying so hard
To be a woman

You strut in
So elegant
All beauty and grace
You try
Not to stumble
But there’s sweat down your face

You’re not fooling anyone
At least
Not Me.

Would you like to dance?
Little girl?
Would you like to come away?
I know you’d rather not be here

Who is it you’re trying to please?

As I hold you so tenderly
Yes you dance
So gracefully
I can feel your heart
Racing
I can hear you mutter
You’re pacing yourself

Why do you try so hard?

Did you know
You’re Beautiful
Little girl
You’re graceful
On your own

Did you know
You dance like the breeze
And you smell like the spring

Did you know
You stole my heart
The minute you walked in
That door.

So let’s dance
Yes we’ll dance
In the morning we’ll remember
Not a minute to waste
Tonight.

Won’t you please
Let it go
Won’t you please
Let it flow
Won’t you please
Stop trying
Won’t you please
Stop lying

I know who you are

So stop pretending.

And we’ll stop
And we’ll stare
And we’ll lose our hearts

And we’ll dance
And we’ll drink
And we’ll both forget to think

And we’ll fall in love
And we’ll say goodbye
In the morning you’ll leave
A Lady.

Limitless

2007-01-11T19:32:00.000+05:30

Come away

Come away

There’s much to be done

Today

Come with me

Come with me

There is far

Too much to see

There is far

Too much to do

There is much

Much more to you

If you care to see it

If you care to be it

Would you love me?

Would you be

The perfect wife to me?

Be a mother

To our children

Love me truly

As we build

Our nest

And watch it die

They go away

And then we cry

Then we grow old and grey

And soon we fade away

Together draw

Our

Last breath

But that’s been done to death

Would you fuck me?

Would you be

A little slut for me?

Scream for more

Be a whore

Help me be

Help me die

Give me drugs

Give me lies

And I’ll die young and free

And no one cries for me

But is that who you want to be?

Get married

Rob a store

Have children

Be a whore

Be a mother

Pop some pills

Kill a man

Buy a minivan

Go to church

Rape a baby

Buy a gun

Because you can

Because you can

Choose a path

Because you can

Listen carefully to me

What do you want to do?

What do you want to be?

Which part of you

Do you want to see?

Today is limitless

Tomorrow is

Another Day

Mr. White Lies

2007-01-08T02:29:00.000+05:30

Walk right up to you
Look you right in the eyes
You don’t know what to say
As I feed you these lies

You don’t know what to do
You had no idea
You don’t even know me
But you’re getting so near

And I’m drawing so close
And you know this is wrong
But you don’t wanna stop
Yeah you’re feeling alright

Ecstasy
Ecstasy is filling me
This is all I want to be
I don’t even know his name.
I don’t even know his name.

But he is all that I can see
As he’s flooding into me.
This is all I want to be
You are all I want to see.

Break the trance
Now I slowly draw away
Yes I see you gently sway
You look back into my eyes.

And there’s so much
You want to say
But the words don’t come out right
And your head is feeling light.

Come now baby
Come away
Come with me
We’ll come today
Show you things you’ve never seen
Take you where you’ve never been

Take me where you want to go
Show me all you’ve got to show
Make me feel this special way
Hold me and take me away

This is bliss
All I ever want is this
I will never be the same
I don’t even know your name

You were nice
Yes I see the look
In your eyes
You look on in shock and awe
You look on in wonderment
You think this is love
But I’ve
Sprung a bit of a surprise

This is perfect.
This is bliss.
It was only a kiss
It was only a kiss

As I turn and walk away
You still close your eyes and sway
But it will never be that way

I’m Mr. White Lies.

Orange

2007-01-05T18:47:00.000+05:30

You look You see
And want To be
You try To learn
You learn To see

You live You love
You live To love
You think You know
The ghost Above

You breathe You try
You wonDer why
And all Is Well
You want To die

You life Is full
Your life Is whole
You know Your way
You've lost Control

The way You talk
The way You dress
The way You know
Your life’s A mess

The life You lived
Is meaningLess

And all You’ve learnt
And all You’ve seen
And all The places
That you Have been

And all The dishes
That you Have cleaned

And all The dreams
That you Have dreamed

And all The meat
And all The greens

And all The hearts
You have Broken

And all The plastic
Subway Tokens

All the Money
You have Made
And all You took
And all You gave
What did It mean
This pointLess trade?
What did It mean
If you Got paid?
What did It mean
If you Got laid?
Though the Colour
Slowly Fades
You RemEmber
Every Shade

And you Have lived
And had Some fun
But in The end
What have You done?
And in The end
What do You know?
What is It worth?
Where do You go?

Life is Pink
Life is Orange
Stop to Think
Nothing rhymes With Orange
Nothing rhymes With Orange
And
Orange rhymes With nothing
But it doesn't
Rhyme with Nothing
And orange is confusing
And doesn't Mean a Thing

Anagrameriffic

2006-11-16T17:09:00.000+05:30

Remember when you were a kid and your elders and betters and well wisherers in general would warn you not to sqaunder your precious time on useless activities that would only distract you from your true aim in life*. Well I never listened. Consequently, I am the proud owner of this very blog in which I manage to find the time to post regularly, even though I never find the time to study, do my homework, or find a cure for cancer**.

Another unfortunate result of my enviable time squandering abilities is that I found the time to visit this site.
It wasnt the mist exciting ten minutes of my life, but I did discover some interesting*** things about my name, did you know that you could rearrange my humble name, Arijit Sett, to form:

A JITTERS IT
A JITTERS TI
A JET SIR TIT
A JET STIR IT
A JET STIR TI
AIR JEST TIT
AIR JETS TIT
AIR JET TITS
AIRS JET TIT
SARI JET TIT
STAIR JET IT
STAIR JET TI
STRIA JET IT
STRIA JET TI
SITAR JET IT
SITAR JET TI
TARSI JET TI
ASTIR JET IT
ASTIR JET TI
TRAIT JET IS
JAR SITE TIT
JAR TIES TIT
JAR TIE TITS
JAR SET IT TI
JARS TIE TIT
RAT JET IS IT
RAT JET IS TI
ART JET IS IT
ART JET IS TI
TAR JET IS IT
TAR JET IS TI
AT JET SIR IT
AT JET SIR TI
TAT JET IRIS

I'm going to go cower in shame now.

*Study. Go to school. Study. Stay at home. Study. Do not go out. Study. Do not associate with "the wrong type". Study. Do not be "the wrong type". Study. Do not associate with girls. Study. Get a good job. Study. Get married to a "nice" girl of your parents choice. Study. Have a moustache. Study. Have children. Make them suffer. Study.

**Well actually, I AM working on one, but its not too likely to work. Or not give you the runs.

***Read "embarassing"

On a Wing and a Prayer

2006-11-16T16:58:00.000+05:30

Staring into the unholy glare
Coming in on a wing and a prayer

And he’s falling so slowly
Into despair

Not a chance in hell
He’s gonna make it out of there.

Bathed in the starlight
Of a silver mooned night

She’s so beautiful
She’s got the light in her eyes

And she’s lying there, moaning
“Babe this just feels right”

Dancing around in her divine lair
Coming in on a wing and a prayer

He don’t know
The secret she hides
As on their fantasy
He slowly rides

They’d warned him before
But he didn’t care
‘til morning he loved her
on a wing and a prayer

Now he’s sinking so slowly
Into despair

She was so beautiful
The nights in her eyes

Now she’s lying there, moaning
“It just felt so right”

Eyes soaked in misery
Oh the tears that he cried

And some months from the
How bitter he died

Coming in on a wing and a prayer
Coming in to her divine lair.

Somewhere in here, there’s a lesson you see
Use a rubber, or you’ll get STD’s

Burn

2006-11-12T15:05:00.000+05:30

The wind in my wings
And the fire in my eye
You cannot stop me now
Don’t even try.

Don’t care now
If it’s all illusions and lies
Life will not kill me
No
I will still fly

I’m flying alone
This bird has no home
But I will get by(x2)
I will survive.

Slowly he flies away
Into the sun
He would not fade away
He chose to burn.

The End

2006-11-12T15:04:00.001+05:30

My wings are too weary
My body is too weak
What’s left of life before me
The sky and the future are bleak

The fire is gone
It’s not coming back
My dreams are done
Still no turning back

The phoenix has disappeared
Leaving behind
Memories of dreams
That were never mine

Still no turning back
No I’m too far gone
They won’t take me back
After all that I’ve done

Spiraling downwards
This is it for me
And all I ever wanted
Was to be free.

From the Ashes

2006-11-12T15:04:00.000+05:30

Dying in the cold snow
The bird of his dreams
Withering away slowly
To ashes and tears

Shivering weakly
As slowly he dies
Sad song on his lips
No fire in his eyes.

Fading so slowly
The light from his eyes
He tries to see life
Through the illusions and lies.

Trying to fight off
His hopeless delusions
Trying to pass off
The dream as confusion.

But as he looks up
and sees the glow in the sky
the fire is still burning
this dream will not die.

I am the Firebird
I need no fire
I am the Phoenix
I am the fire

I will not die here
I am the one
I will rise again
My work is not done

And slowly he rises
And stares up at the sky
And flies up, much stronger
The dream that would not die.

The Fire

2006-11-12T15:03:00.001+05:30

Flying over mountains
On a cold winter night
Yeah my wings are drooping
My body is tight

But I keep flying
Flying by
Just a shadow
In the moonless night

I cannot go home
No I still try
I’ve still got the fire
In my eye

I’m just a warrior
I’ve got to fly
I am a fighter
I’ll fight through life

No turning back for me
No
No turning back
I’m tired and lonely
Yeah
But I’m still on track.

Don’t need nobody
Yeah
I’m still free
Don’t got nobody
No
But I’ve still got me.

I’ve still got the fire.

Fly On

2006-11-12T15:03:00.000+05:30

I’ve been flying high
Seven days in the sky
Looking back
On all that I’ve left behind
Looking forward
To everything I will find

With the wind in my wings
The sun in my eyes
You cant stop me now
So don’t even try.

Now I am flying free(x2)
Being all that I can be(x2)

Don’t try to stop me no
I will fly.

Fly on Firebird
Don’t you look back
Look into the distances
Look up to the sky
Look at the little people
As you pass them by

Burn Burn Firebird
Burn Firebird Burn
Don’t you look back now
Don’t you look back
Flying onward into the sun
No turning back now
This is the one.

Burn all the memory
Of time passing by
Don’t you let life
Put out the Fire in your Eye

Fly on Firebird.

I look up
To life’s great adventure
I look up
Right into the sun
I have it all before me
I know that I am the one

I am the fire bird.

Phoenix

2006-11-12T15:02:00.000+05:30

Burn me down
To the ground
Let me drown
In all I’ve found

To be untrue
To be unreal
To be distasteful
A pack of lies

But by my eyes
I’ll be back

Bleed me slowly
Fade to black
Leave me lonely
But I’ll be back

Rising up like a phoenix
From the ashes of all that was me
Free as a bird in the clear blue sky
Free is all I can be.

So burn me up
Let me drown
Bleed me dry
Bring me down

But I’ll fly again
I’ll fly again
And I’ll fly away
Fly away

I am the rising son
You can’t stop me
I am the chosen one
I will be free(x3)

I am the Phoenix
The Fire in the Sky
You’re but a memory
Time passed you by

I know you want
To help me learn to fly
I know you love me
But please let me try.

I know it’s my fault.
You’re just being you.
But just for a minute
Let me be true(x3)
Let me be free(x3)
Let me fly(x3)
Let me be me(x6)

I’ll fly away(x4)
Into the sun(x4)
Don’t let me fade away(x4)
I want to Burn.

Stoned.

2006-11-11T19:22:00.000+05:30

There is something intrinsically wrong with the world. In all its beauty, it hides a monstrous deformity. The Truth.

The Truth – the hideous concept that, like everything else, does not really exist or matter – hides behind a thin veil of beauty and logic. A block, so to speak, in our minds, that prevents us from seeing it as it is. As the block exists only in our heads, it is both the hardest and the easiest thing to overcome. The easiest way to get past the wall in your head, the veil of logic, is, of course, to think, something that few people ever do. The harder way to go about things - which is, of course, if you think about it long enough, far easier – is to stumble blindly through life until it kicks you in the backside hard enough to make you understand one or two things (popularly called The Facts of Life), or rather the single most important Fact of Life – nothing, really, is, so to speak, fair. There is no balance, no logic, no divine Rewards and Retribution scheme. Everything that happens is very terribly random. Your life is made up of a serious of random events that were caused by a series of separate, unique random events that were caused by other series’ of separate, unique random events…ad infinitum. You can understand life is Brownian motion – a set of dust particles moving about in random patterns at high speed in random patterns, regularly colliding with each other. If you look long enough without blinking, you start to see a distinct pattern forming, something un-random, the particles seem to be governed by an unseen force, but that’s not it. Its just physics. The universe being itself. And maybe your eyes watering a little bit.

Life is not fair or logical. Which is, if you think about it, a horrible thing.

Life is also, very distinctly, extremely strange.

Man is used to being in control. And if he’s not in control, he is used to having someone else in control – preferably someone big and beautiful with a soft spot for him. He cannot deal with the concept of no one being in control, He cannot deal with no one giving or taking orders, of true anarchy, of everything being so horribly equal. This is the reason there is a God. This is the reason there is a veil in your head.

Karma, Heaven and Hell, the cosmic balance sheet – all concepts designed by man so that he can choose to ignore realizing the basic Facts of Life – a “truth”, the only “truth” he already knows – that nothing is right and nothing is fair and one day you stop breathing and no one really knows what happens after.

Man knows it all, but keeps the veil around his eyes to keep him from realizing it, from discovering what he has known all along. He lives in denial, afraid of what he may find
behind doors he has closed.

The veil, really, is quite useless. The only real purpose it serves is to prolong our misery. If one ever does manage to work up the courage to look past it and face The Facts, he may find that The Realization is not quite as bad as that. He may wonder what all the fuss was about. He may even fall in love.

If you think about it long enough, of you stare at the dust particles long enough – you start to see a strange beauty in the randomness and futility of it all. A messiah in the madness.

If you have broken the veil and looked beyond, you have broken past all other barriers in your mind. If you have broken the veil and looked beyond, you have overcome what you had programmed yourself to think. If you have broken the veil and looked beyond, you have started talking like a hippie. If you have broken the veil and looked beyond, you have realized on or two things, largely:

1)That logic only really matters in your head.
2)That life is equally unfair to everyone, and is thus, in a fairly twisted way, actually quite fair.
3)That you are, really, in no manner of exaggeration, fucking stoned off your gourd.

This is, of course, the point where it all comes together, and you have the realization.

Life is not fair or logical, which is, if you think about it, a beautiful thing.

Stoned?

2006-11-04T19:30:00.000+05:30

Nothing matters. Really. Life. Death. Love. The Economy. What society thinks of you. What you think of society. None of it matters.

We are all just little balls of sentience and emotion. All that really matters to us is what we feel or perceive. God is a construct, designed to comfort us when it all really goes to shit. If we really think about it, as those with nothing better to do often do, we can come to the only logical conclusion that God really does not exist*. If we think about it even longer, then we come to the conclusion that EVERYTHING really does not matter, and it is at this point that you know that you really need to chuck whatever intoxicants you may happen to have on your person and get a job.

Sometimes, however, you may find, as I have, that getting a job is not really an option, or maybe you just don’t feel like it. At this point, it is imperative that one does not move about too much, and thus, all that you can do is keep this potentially dangerous train of thought going.

This is the point where, after great contemplation, you come to the conclusion that nothing really matters. This is also the point where you realize that your train of thought is going in large, elaborate circles.

On reflection, maybe it would have been a better idea to have contemplated old Disney movies. You cant go wrong with old Disney movies.

And you really thought you were going somewhere with this.

Maybe you’ll fall asleep eventually.

The Truth

2006-11-04T19:29:00.000+05:30

The Truth is a terrible thing, a sickening deformity unbelievable in its strangeness. The reason that most of us choose to hide behind lies is that no one believes the truth. Those who choose to speak it are mocked – shunned by society, sometimes locked up where no one can hear the madness they speak.

To understand the elusive quality of The Truth, one must first understand its basic nature, primarily, that it, like everything else does not actually, so to speak, exist. The Truth, as most would understand it, is what actually IS, what actually happened, but in quote reality unquote it is really what was actually seen or heard or thought. The Truth is subjective. The Truth is what we perceive it to be, and man has a peculiar tendency of perceiving things incorrectly.

No one speaks The Truth, because no one know The Truth, and consequently, no one, not even yourself, can be trusted. Everyone has their own version of the facts, diverging in however small a way from everyone else’s. If any two people give you the same set of facts about anything, then they are obviously lying.

These notions of course, are challenged by that great dispeller of myths and all things romantic, evidence – be it photographic, audio, or otherwise. Strange devices made by stranger men aim to capture, partially or in their entirety, fragments of our quote reality unquote on various mediums, so that fragile and unreliable human memory does not need to be used to get a version of the quote real unquote facts. These devices, however, have still not managed to get the picture in its entirety despite their sophistication and accuracy, and have so far only managed to add fuel to the fire of debate and have thus, at least till date, been a good thing. Perhaps one day they will have advanced to such a degree that they will give you beyond a shadow of doubt or suspicion the complete and total picture, the quote actual unquote set of facts and figures, and we will all be little less human for it.

Till date, at least, there is no real truth. No real set words and images that we can all turn to and say, without a hint of doubt – “This is what happened”.

But this debate is hardly relevant.

The truth is that The Truth, like everything else, does not really matter.

Muddy Hands

2006-10-21T20:36:00.000+05:30

Yeah we
Got together
Coz I
Didn’t know better
Writing
Dirty love letters
Baby
Got you wetter
Yeah with
All I know
And all you’ve seen
Getting so much harder
Keeping myself clean

When it gets much hotter
Drink the
Filthy water
Baby
Yeah you know
You know what to do
Got too hot too heavy
Muddied my hands on you

Muddy hands
Oh
The filthy water
Dirty love
So much hotter

All that I know
And all that I’ve seen
It seems so unreal
When you do that to me

Muddy hands
Someone’s daughter
Made her drink
The
Filthy water

Fill you up
Can you feel me
Fill you up
With my
Gasoline

Muddy hands
Girl you gotta
Dirty pants
Yeah
All I taught her

Muddy my hands on you
Yeah
Dirty my pants with you
Girl you
Know just what to do
When I
Muddy my hands on you.

Muddy hands…(ad infinitum)

Dances in the Dark

2006-10-17T17:52:00.000+05:30

She hides in the shadows
Surrounding me
Confounding me
Filling me up
We play with the fleeting light
Running to the Madness
Dancing in the Darkness
Feeling her up.
We play in the sleepless night
We run we run
We take flight.
This little whore is out of sight
She keeps me going through the night.

Running with the Devil!

Break Up Anthem

2006-10-10T01:15:00.000+05:30

Dont get me wrong here - I just wanted to be mean for a bit. Read this if you're down about a break up or angry at someone. This is not written about anyone in particular - I just felt like having a laugh, so please dont misunderstand me. I'm a mean bastard, but not quite THIS bad...

=====================================================================================

See
Believe
Listen
Deceive
Feel
the insanity
try to take it all in

You dont know me
You dont know me
You dont know me
But you think you care

You dont know who
you think you love but
you think you love him
an-y-way

Stay away
You wont understand
You will not believe me
you wont even hear what I have to say...

I am the
ressurection
I am the
blinding light
You cant know me
You cant love me
You cant even comp-re-hend

Why do you try so
fucking hard dont
you know that I dont give a shit
if you let me touch your tits

You were just some en-ter-tain-ment
please Fuck off now
I'm done with you
Go find someone else to cry to.

I've had my fill
dont let your poor tears spill
onto the car-pe-ting

Don't you know that:

I am the
ressurection
I am the
blinding light
I dont love you
and
I dont want you
anymore
Dont cry now love
theres the door.

Chronicles of Patheticness

2006-09-25T17:42:00.000+05:30

Clickit

100

2006-09-21T18:39:00.000+05:30

I'm a little it late on this, but I have now officially written a hundred posts on this blog.

This makes me one of the major contriutors of useless crap on the internet, beating off fierce competition from varied spammers and pornographers the world over.

You can also expect much more of the same from me.

You're all free to start cutting your wrists now.

Breathe

2006-09-21T18:12:00.000+05:30

Give me love
Give me cancer
I'm your slave
Be my master.
I inhale
the sweet laughter.
We live happily
ever after.

Kill my heart.
Fill my lungs.
Help me forget
help me forget
Help me stay high.

Cruel mistress
let me kiss you
one last time
before I fade away
Into your night.

Lovely Lady,
Make me miss you,
Make me crave
your touch on my lips.
Make me need you,
Help me realise,

I can't leave.

Pulse

2006-09-11T17:49:00.000+05:30

You make me cough you make me cry
You make me warm You just feel right.

Lie with me on my fantasy
Keep with me this ecstacy
Linger on...
in me
Stay on
Stay on
Stay
Oh please now wouldn't you stay on:
Fill me
Pulse through me now
oh wont you fill me
oh stay with me now.
Keep me warm yeah
Keep me high
and yes, my mouth it feels so dry.
And you now I'm in ecsatcy.
Stay with me this fantasy.

And now you fade into the night.
Smoky darkness, fading light.
One more kiss just One more kiss,
One final pull of passing bliss*.

And so I thank you for the high,
and then to you I bid goodbye.

*Mojo Risin

Internet politics

2006-09-10T17:01:00.000+05:30

We've all seen them, we all know them, and we all have profiles on them. I'm talking, of course, about Internet Networking Services*, more specifically, hi5 and Orkut - places on the internet where we gather, commune, and make new friends. Except thats NOT what we do - people the world over have of course assumed that "Online networking" can mean only one thing - free online dating service! It is this leap of judgement that has proved to be the catalyst for the evolution of a large community of "frendsip" makers and their abandoning of their previous stronghold- internet chat rooms - a move that was deemed neccesary for the continuing growth of this diverse and intriguing group of people.

I'm lying of course. These people are, as we are all taught in Sociology class, the scourge of the earth, a blemish on society that need to be eradicated by a dedicated programme of societal cleansing. And these so called networking societies need to be purged with equal impunity for encouraging the growth of this unnatural behavious that interferes with the natural growth of the fatherland. Not that this stops me from having my own profile or checking it anally to see if I've received anymore testimonials or fives. But that is obviously besides the point.

Testimonials and fives bring me, of course to the second point in this fast degerating rant of mine - testimonials and fives, or rather, online willie waving. People on these "communities" take great pleasure in collecting these and will go to great lengths to increase their collection. The receipt of a particularly nice testimonial or, especially a "crush" five is an event that brings great joy to the soulless creatures that frequent these sites. In fact, people in Japan have been known to spend vast amounts on holding "testimonial and five parties" on receiving these, some have even commited suicide out of shame when they have not received a testimonial for a long period, or if they feel that their collection is inadequate when compared with the internet achievers in society**. Even among the less extreme of us, testimonials and fives can cause much envy and intense rivalries have been known to arise between long term users, the most famous case of course being the Caine-Bhattopadhyai incident, which led to three hundred deaths and the wastage of a lot of peoples time***.

Indeed, these Internet societies have been identified as a major factor in the lamening of society. They corrupt the youth and distract them from their more important duties****. They are also the reason that I have come into contact with Biplob. It is obvious by the now the point which I am trying to make. Internet societies are a threat to the future development of our peoples and must be dealt with effectively and immediately.

*An obvious conclusion.
**Not true.
***Still lying.
****Such as drinking and developing new and more efficient methods of consuming psychotropic substances or interchangeably, new and more efficient methods of dying before twenty.

Stretching It

2006-09-07T14:21:00.000+05:30

Read this on The Week, just couldnt help myself:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ever thought that "rubbers" were a recent invention? Apparently not. The oldest surviving condom datesback to 1640 and is reusable too. The antique contraceptive was found in LUND, Sweden It is made of pig intestine and is one of 250 ancient objects related to sex on display at the Tirolean County Museum in Austria this summer.

The condom, complete with a users' manual written in Latin, is in mint condition.The maunal suggests that users immerse the condom in warm milk prior to its use to prevent diseases. So much for recycling!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Week - June 25, 2006

Word for word, though the single highlight is mine.

Onwards, Forwards!!

2006-09-06T11:43:00.000+05:30

Most of you have probably not read my other posts on forwards(here here
and here )
so here's a short summary for you: I do not hold them in the highest regard.

So I see this in my inbox:

> >> >hii ppl

> >> >M ESHITA....WOULD LIKE 2 KNOW U BETTER..PLEASE CONTACT ME ON
> >> >24068172 IF U R INTRSTD..
> >> >M 4M LMG..CLASS 10...GALS PLEASE PASS ON MY NO.S 2 UR SINGLE
> >>FRIENDS
> >> >HU R READY 2 MINGLE..I WUD LIKE 2 HV A BF..NO MATTER HOW GUD OR
> >>BAD
> >> >HE LOOKS..PLEASE CALL
> >> >LOTS OF LOVE
> >> >ESHITA DHINGRA

> >> >

This amazing little letter has gone a long way in changing my mind about forwards, so please do not be put off by my earlier crabbiness, goahead and forward me, especially if its mails as funny as this one.

Once again, I am forced to say: The internet is SUCH an interesting place.

How Do You Define Faggy?

2006-08-30T16:37:00.000+05:30

I'm not sure, but its something like this

Art

2006-08-22T22:14:00.000+05:30

Ever wonder what this genius little mind of mine gets up to in Account class? Never one to disspoint, here's a little peek:

I call it - "Bearded man introspecting"

This one is called "True Love", reflecting the thoughts that go through a man head when he is with someone he loves...I dont know why, the image just came to me, I dont think it means anything, its just one of those pictures you associate a feeling with.

This one is called - "All roads lead to love" and its about how we search for love in all the wrong places when its actually staring us in the...face.

This is - "The Eyes of love/Man with uneven moustache" and its kinda self explanatory.

There you go, a pink little romantic look into the artistic genius that is my mind.
You'll be telling your kids about this someday.

Like, Whoa

2006-07-01T12:13:00.000+05:30

And I thought being a card carrying heterosexual male gave me immunity from psycho bong loser cyber stalkings. Apparently not.

A guy name Biplob (pictured)(apparently the one "in goggles"), from Raipur sent me a friend request and personal message on hi5.
You can just tell this is not going to end well.

Hi! Obtuse Kid.
score one for the penis!! huh!....
Oh! thts a gud one.
how could i nomenclate U,i m so ebullient to f*ck ppl like so..... neways stop ur sardonic smile now,i m still not satiate.
U r harshly critical,painfully hot,n tht sucks.
Well,just be painstaking before adding me,n make a niddle point investigation when u write on behalf of me.....
Now scintillate ur brain wid spicy ideas n start indulging wid me,I'll be glad to make a combat,psychotic kid vs sporadic hacker.

O............kay.

Well, I'm off to shave my head, change my name, and take an extended hiatus in an undisclosed location. If anything happens to me, you guys read it here first.

The internet is SUCH an interesting place.

Man of Steel

2006-06-30T23:57:00.000+05:30

All hail the iron man!
All fall beneath his gaze!

Unflinching and steadfast
Standing tall and erect.
Rising to the occasion
Your dignity he protects.

In time of need, he'll come for you!
Long and hard, he'll fight for you!
Bloodied and weary, he'll fall for you!
Then once again he'll rise for you!

All hail this mans will!
But if he fails, theres always the pill.

V

2006-06-19T22:07:00.000+05:30

We make love slowly.
At least at first.
Our hesitant kisses become stronger, bolder
I drink deeper into you.
We are one, lips locked in a tight embrace,
We know We will never be the same again.
Not until I wake up, wondering what hit me.
And look down at you, now an empty, lifeless corpse.
And remember the magic, the fire, the pain.
Go wash my face, wretch and return,
to ponder last nights adventure.

You will always be the fire in my belly.
You will always be the itch in my throat.
And You Will Always get me high.

My V.

I love you.

We will always be one.

You will always be mine.

Always. And Never.

Tag. I'm It.

2006-06-10T15:59:00.000+05:30

Yes...I have been tagged by a certain undead feline, and contrary to my past record with these things (where I usually only reply to tags that I have not received), I have decided to take this one up. Why? I have nothing better to do, thats why.

6 Things That Make Me Weird

1. This blog.

2. The fact that I reply to tags like this one.

3. Marijuana. Yes. Marijuana makes me weird. Among other things.

4. Comienzo a veces espontáneamente a hablar en idiomas extranjeros que no tengo ninguna experiencia previa con.

5. I have been known to spontaneously break into song when placed near cheese. I have even hired a troupe of dancers and backup vocalists to follow me around in case I should encounter unexpected dairy products as I go about my business every day.

6. I am the antichrist. One day you shall all either answer to me or suffer in the fiery depths of Hades as my servants insert various tabasco coated objects into your anus slowly and painfully
(in fact you'll probably do that anyway).

7. I sometimes add and extra bulletmark just to piss people off.

I tag anyone who reads this blog and feels he//she//he/she has a whole lot of free time on their hands (read, has no life to speak of a nd tries to live out their pathetic dreams through alter egos on the internet).

P.S. No one comments anymore, unless asked to...fuck me, I'm actually desperate egnough to write a footnote like this begging for some pathetic little words from you people...fuck you, fuck you all...

P.P.S. Im really sorry anout that last post script. I think tempers were heated and we all said some things that we didnt mean. I just hope we can move past it.

P.P.P.S. Please do comment though.

P.P.P.P.S. COMMENT MUTHAFUCKA

Angrezi 101

2006-06-09T12:42:00.000+05:30

We have all, I am sure, come across little bits of magic english in newpapers, posters, advertisement and various other media....you know, the things that make Lynne Truss want to shoot herself so that she could turn in her grave...poor punctuation, grammar, spelling et al. These are things that can be funny at the worst of times, but nowhere else are they ever as funny as in the writing of a certain kind of short story...you know...the racier variety...the kind written by horny teenagers and that weird bald guy behind the counter at KFC.

To get more to the point, I have cllected for your reading pleasure choice excerpts from the works of some of the finest erotic writers in the country(and some from beyond):

"Suddenly I came with a bang."(ouch?)

"I grabbed her by the waste and pulled her towards me."

"I knew from the beginning that DAS uncle was staring my MOM always from her back side when she walks out in the corridor."

"Father was making jokes on mother and all were laughing"(Yes, but is it erotic?)

"The specialty of my tits is that it spills a lot of milk when I get aroused. It is always full. And I love the sight when people watch my shirt when it is drenched with milk. I also love to tease people".(Put the gwalas out of business, she will.)

"As good luck had always smiled on me because of my charismatic nature, I had a stream of relationships with girls and ladies in my life which I would like to share with you. I am going to describe one of my best experiences in life with the wife of my friend."(Share your girls and ladies?Yes please!)

"Ever since I can remember, I’ve been told that I’m beautiful. At 5’4”, 100lbs (2% body fat, thanks to my genetics, and a strategic workout plan help me keep a Britney Spears frame), emerald green eyes, dark brown hair that hangs down to my ass, caramel skin, big tits (32 D naturally thanks to mom), and a face to match, I’m an exotic beauty."(and so modest too!!)

And that, ladies and gentlemens, is the best I could do while still maintaining my sanity(or whats left of it). One day, when my sanity is less important to me, I shall do a follow up post that will be far more detailed and infinitely funnier. Promise. Till then, please keep the comments coming. Its getting lonely in here.

The goddamn HTML doesnt work, Opera doesnt seem to display many of the buttons....any suggestions???

Sometimes......

2006-06-01T17:25:00.000+05:30

Sometimes we forget why we love what we love because we're too busy looking for new tings to love.
Sometimes somethig we hate can seem so good just because we dont have anything left to love.
Sometimes we forget why we love what we love and hate what we hate.
Sometimes we get drunk and listen to Enrique.

And sometimes,with the right mood, the right weather and the right grass,
writing a post like this can actually seem like a good idea.

Sorry for the interruption ladies and gentlemen.

Unusual Song Interpretation #1

2006-05-31T12:45:00.000+05:30

Linkin Parks' In The End

Somehow it reminds me of old video games. The type with no save system.
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There......that ought to keep you busy for a while.

So bored, so wannabe, so what?

2006-05-14T10:55:00.000+05:30

Livin’ Large

From minute I wake up
To the minute I die
Its just space that I take up
Coz my life is a lie.

I could never remember
What I came here to do
And when I die,
They’ll go Arijit who?

Well, Big Shit………….

Its not the drugs,
Its not al-cho-hol
And don’t be so smug
Coz I care fuck all

Ch:I wanna live before I die
I wanna cheat, and I wanna lie.
I got one life, and its not too long,
I got one life, I’m gonna live it large.

Light up in the morning
Lie down in the night,
And if life gets boring
You do something not right.

You can never rely
On what the preacher told you
And if God is a-calling
You can say Fuck You.

Ch

So live your life kids
Through and through
If you go to the devil
Tell him I sent you.

If your life has a mission,
I say man go ahead
But you don’t know what yer missin,
If you’re not better off dead.

Ch

Here’s news muthafucka,
And it it aint no lie,
Live your life now boa,
Coz one day you die.

Fuck all……………

Yes,yes, its cliche and wannabe....you know what, fuck you.

Bangla RAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2006-04-28T15:54:00.001+05:30

Baje Chhele! Aami ekta baaje chhele!
Baje Chhele! Aami ekta baaje chhele!
Jibonay podey ni!
Bolle o kore ni!
May dekhle o ke prem koro bina chhede ni!
Baje Chhele!

Wow! I am SO blown away by this song. It has to be THE bad-assest song ever. The lyrics SO get acroos the teenage angst and feeling of rebellion experienced by juvenile delinquents across Bengal. And the video.....what can I say about the video - the guys look SO totally menacing, what with all the pot smoking and cigarette clenching and sunglass wearing, its all just SO cool.

This is, of course not my favourite Bangla song. That honour goes, my a long margin to the wonderfully named "Sweety"(I cant remember who its by right now), with the extremely catchy and lyrically profound chorus that goes:

O sweety! aar bhebho naa! Aami aaschhi!
O sweety! aar bhebho naa! Aami aaschhi!
O dont crai bebby dont crai aim jast caaming!
And Ai know eeyu aar ami sweety!
O dont crai bebby dont crai aim jast caaming!
And ai know eeyu aar mai sweety!(repeat endlessly, or till irresistable desire to strangulate self and/or everything/one around you overtakes you)

,this song is by far the best Bengali language peice to come out of this glorious state in recent years, and also enjoys the honour of having the boldest lyrics for any song ever produced in India*.

Catch these songs and many, many more on 28 or any other equally inspiringly named Bangla channel.

*Figure that one out yourself.

Revenge

2006-04-20T21:01:00.000+05:30

This was it....the point that that last twelve years of my my life had been leading to. The last one. Soon the nightmare would be over. Soon, I would finally have my revenge.

She knew I was coming. I knew she knew. She knew I knew she knew. This was not going to be easy. I pulled the Berreta's hidden under my trenchcoat out of their holsters to check them for the umpteenth time. I could not afford to blow this. One wasted oppurtunity could mean years more of searching for her. It could mean years more of the torture. And I knew that I would not be able to take it. I knew that it would kill me. I knew that this time, it was her or me.

Slowly, meaningfully, I strode into the hotel lobby, the trenchcoat flowing behind me like a leather cape. An assasin needs style. Coolly, I walked past the woman at the reception desk and strode up the stairs. A man in dark glasses and a black leather trenchcoat in a hotel full of suits and holidaying families. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I fit right in. Invisibility is an art, and there are two ways of going about it. Dressing inconspicously and acting like you belong, or setting yourself apart from everyone else and telling everyone I belong.

Room no. 314. I walked right upto the suit gaurding the door. The glare from behind those glasses would have scared the bravest men into submission. A quick tap on the shoulder and he folded like so much dirty laundry. Acting quickly, I unlocked the door using the master key I had stolen from the bellboys pocket, and threw the gaurd in, locking the door behind me. She was in the shower. Perfect.

I pulled the Berretas out from under my coat and turned off the safety in one darmatic movement. I could almost hear Rage Against The Machine playing in the background. The lock on the bathroom door snapped like, well, a cheap lock. There she was, in all her naked glory. My tormentor. La Pesadilla. The person I had dreamed of destroying for over a decade.

Jennifer Lopez.

Ricky Martin. The Pussycat Dolls. The Duff Sisters. Lindsay Lohan. Every boyband who ever recorded a major single. I had spent every waking second of the last twelve years plotting and executing their utter nonexistence. One by one, I had picked them off, watching them suffer the same pain I had as I had heard their music being played over and over and over as a child. They had got off easy. I had suffered countless little deaths each time I heard their crap being played on the radio. And now, I was taking revenge for myself and millions of other children the world over who were forced to listen to their crap repeated endlessly.

She screamed and scrambled to find something to cover herself with. For a second, I watched, amused, as this pathetic little creature writhed about on the bathtub floor.
For a second, I let my concentration slip. And that was all it took. Taking advantage of my momentary lapse of concentration, El Malvado leapt across the bathroom floor and dropkicked me right where it hurts the most. My solar plexus. Clutching my chest, I gasped for breath as I watched my greatest adversary run out on the door and flee down the hallway. Stark naked of course. I couldnt let her get away. Not after I'd come this far. Not after what she'd done to me. Gripping my guns tightly, I jumped out of the window and ran down the fire escape, knowing that she would be running out onto the street in a few seconds.

Halfway down the escape, I saw my prey running out of the hotel doors. She didnt attract much attention. Naked, crazed latin women running on the street rarely do. Taking careful aim, I took my shot, knowing that I could not afford to miss. For a moment, everything was still. The Beretta hardly seemed to make a report as it fired. I could see the bullet slowly, agonisingly bearing down towards her. She looked up towards me, face contracted in fear, and screaed as the bullet blew her kneecap out, spewing her black, Jennifer Lopez blood all over the sidewalk.

I stood over her vile, repulsive form, enjoying the look of fear in her eyes.

"This is for 'If You Had My Love'" I screamed as I blew her other keecap out.

"This is for 'Waiting For Tonight'" I screamed, shooting her in her right arm.

"This is for 'Love Don't Cost A Thing'" I screamed, blowing off her left arm.

"This is for 'Jenny from the Block'" I screamed, lodging a bullet square in her stomach.

"This.....this is for 'Get Right'" I bellowed hoarsely, as the final bullet made its way to between her eyes.

It was over.

The Jacobeans Jacobeany Eating Thingy

2006-04-16T01:23:00.000+05:30

We Jacobeans eat. A Lot. We eat at our school canteen. It is good and cozy and serves nice food cooked by the sweaty men behind the glass (S.M.B.G.'s). The sweat only makes the food tate better. And saves money for salt.

Oh Yes. I'm back. And stealing once again. Do read.

The Last Action Hero

2006-04-15T23:53:00.000+05:30

First off, apologies for the long absence, things haven’t exactly been crazy, but the same cant be said for me( huge, post-ICSE hangover as a result of huge post-ICSE partying have had me more or less incapacitated for the past few weeks, from now on I promise to be a little more frequent in posting my updates and to be at least passably comprehensible{though I don’t know if I ever was before}. Now on to the matter at hand…

Schwarzenegger (his name is on spellcheck!!!), Stallone (him too), van Damme (not him, weird...) all members of a dying breed of “actor” (the term used in the loosest possible sense, of course). The thickly accented, paralyzed from the chin up, built like a brick shithouse action mega-star (who will hereby be referred to as T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S.’)

From the beginning of time (or, ever since I was born), there have been T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S.’. We have (I have) grown up watching Stallone, Arnie, and that Brussels guy beat the shit out of one generic bad guy after the other. We have seen them lose shirt after shirt, girlfriend after girlfriend, and plotline after plotline, and loved every moment of it. We have seen them act in the worst written movies of all time(without bringing Bolly, Tolly, Molly, Golly, Sholly, or any other “’Wood” into the equation), seen “writers”(loosest possible sense again) come up with more and more (or less and less, depending on the movie) innovative ways of 60-70 minutes of cinema down to the T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. in question bloody and completely or almost topless facing the bad guy in a one-on-one fight to the death, taking up the majority of the remaining half hour or so. Indeed, many a lonely night have I spent watching the last half hours of several T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. movies on tape, comparing notes so I could argue knowledgably with my friends the next day over which was the “best” fight sequence ever made. Sometimes I would even take the time out to watch the first hour or so of the movie so that I could truly appreciate the “story” (loosest possible sense) (this is getting tiring now…).

As I grew older, I began to take more notice of the other great thing about T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. movies-the hero’s’ better half (henceforth referred to simply as “Hot Babe” or “Eye Candy” or “sorry excuse for feminist with toy gun” or “Boobs on legs”, which will be used in rotation and for comic effect). I began to notice how the storylines seemed to invariably involve the kidnapping or murder of the said hot babe, or if the “writer” (you know what I’m going to say don’t you) was trying to be really creative, the murder or kidnapping her father, mother, ex-boyfriend, gay lover, dealer, etcetera, etcetera. Sometimes the “writer” (if this wasn’t so irritating, it would be funny) would throw in a “sorry excuse for feminist with toy gun”, the given T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S’ partner in his crusade against crime, injustice, “commie-natzees”, random Germans, and black guys with guns. She would be given the chance to look pretty while kicking some butt, stand up for women everywhere, and perhaps even (gasp!) save the T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S’ life! Oh, and conveniently get captured and force the T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S to come back to save her life (or in a Hindi movie, honour) and kill several black people with guns along the way, after which she would swoon and fall into his arms, and whisper “My Hero…” under her breath.

I will make no bones about this – I love the T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S.’. I love what the represent. I love their political incorrectness. I love that a man can beat the shit out of thousands of black men and Germans with guns on screen and not get booked for “hate mongering”. I love that world governments can’t pay 20 billion dollars to an evil genius to save their major cites from being destroyed by giant lasers. I love the Boobs on Legs’. I love the Hot Chicks. I love the Eye Candy. I love the sorry excuses for feminists with toy guns. I love the 20 foot flying kicks. I love that a man with a 9 shooter can take on a thousand black men with semi-automatics. I love the crappy one-liners. I love the evil laughs. I love the miraculous escapes after the hero “sacrifices” himself. I love the last half hour blow out. I love the “stories”. I love the endless sequels.

And now the T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. are no more. Arnie is waaaaaaaaaay past it and is now too busy banning anti-smoking laws in California to care about making a worthy sequel to the sequel of the movie that made him. Sly Stallone has lost his hair and his mind. van Damme too is aging and hasn’t done a decent movie in years. And there is no worthy successor to any of these men (save vin Deisel(not on spellcheck, he’ll make it someday), who has the accent, the brick-shithouse build and the paralysed face all going for him).

Nowadays few T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. films are made, and when they are, the usually turn out to be “action comedies” involving an aging Jackie Chan (a T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. in his own right, even though he has far from a brick-shithouse build) and/or a ghetto reject black man. I have nothing against action comedies (in fact I love them almost as much as T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. movies) but one longs to see a quality T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. movie. XXX and XXX2 are notable exceptions to the rule (XXX2 had Ice-Cube, now THERES a REAL black T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S.: the build, the talk; quality one-expression acting). The commercial success of these movies proves that T.A.P.C.U.B.L.A.B.S. films are still a viable investment in a starved market. Bollocks to meaningful cinema.

PS - This post is very wannabe-great Bong, and I apologise for the plagiarism. However, if you must copy, its usually better to copy the best, though not always.

PPS- That PS is so copied. Please don’t sue me for plagiarism GG9!

The Dream Of The Poet (P.O.P.)

2006-01-26T14:08:00.000+05:30

Oh how I wish I was a child,
with eyes large and temper mild.
Oh how I wish I could beleive,
to not filter fantasy, like a sieve.
Oh what I'd give for innocence,
to have my mind not bound to the fence.

Oh how I wish my dreams sublime,
Oh how I wish that I could rhyme!

[This is my tribute to my favourite music in the world - pop...]
[seriously]
[no kidding]
[ok fine]
*[the P.O.P. stands for Poor On Purpose....so please dont judge me on this....]

Simply The Best....

2005-11-28T09:46:00.000+05:30

George Best (1946-2005)
You shall be sorely missed.

Attention Tourists!

2005-11-13T22:02:00.000+05:30

Due to some unfortunate recent incidents, we are obliged to warn you against singing in public places, especially if the said place is deserted. Lovers should take special care not to sing romantic, or indeed, any songs in oublic. Doing so may cause any number of people to pop up out of nowhere who will expect you to run around trees while they dance badly in the background, for which they may or may not expect monetary renumeration. If the idea of dancing in the rain or otherwise while total strangers dance around you sounds romantic, then think again - these mystery dancers are anal-retentive perfectionists and are likely to hold you back for however long it may take to perfect your steps. If you spot or are confronted by these dancers,please do not attempt to approach or attack them, doing so may cause you bodily and/or mental damage- you should propmtly contact us at our hotline: 1-800-GULLIBLE.

Please excuse my pro-nun-see-ay-shun

2005-11-04T15:54:00.000+05:30

Bengali names for relatives can be very confusing for the uninitiated. Even someone like me, whose ancestors have been in Bengal for the last 300 years, can get extremely confused when my Bong friends refer to their Jethu or their Dada.

Some of these names, in fact, seemed grossly inappropriate, and highly humorous-I routinely embarrass myself by breaking out in side splitting peals of laughter* whenever someone refers to their:

Uncle,Aunt and Grandmother as Cocku, Cocky and Cockyma respectively
Aunt(fathers sister) as Pissy

I’m sure there are numerous others which I have been too lazy to point out, and my readers are welcome to point these out.

*doesn’t happen too often any more. I can generally keep it down to a smile or an embarrassed grin, though I can make no promises.

P.S: Any mobs that might come looking for me: I am absconding in an undisclosed location till further notice.

Word Misuse #54

2005-10-31T15:01:00.000+05:30

Twat is a vulgar expression primarily used to refer to the human vagina.

Robert Browning famously misused the term twat in his 1841 poem Pippa Passes, believing it to be an item of nun's clothing:

Then owls and bats

Cowls and twats

Monks and nuns in a cloister's moods

Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry

Its meaning was in reality the same then as now, Browning's misconception probably having arisen from a line in a 1660 satirical poem, Vanity of Vanities:

They talk't of his having a Cardinalls Hat

They'd send him as soon an Old Nuns Twat

P.S.Readers who have no idea what twat means are probably too young to be reading this and would be well advised to refrain from visiting this page again until they are of a presentable age at the minimum.

No one left, did they?* Look it up.

*I apologise for using this hackneyed and extremely bored joke. Those of you who have been around long egnough know that this joke has, in one form or another, been used by every blogger worth their salt at some poin or the other, usually in posts that have liberal use of the words ass, cock, or pussy, or which hint strongly towards the same. I have no idea if I am worth my salt, or any other condiments that may come to mind, but come on, let the little guy have his fun.

Double Entendre?

2005-10-28T15:35:00.000+05:30

'There was no need to stick the wand in that hard,' he (Dumbledore) said gruffly, clambering to his feet. 'It hurt.' (p 64)

Heres more.

The path of the hypocrite

2005-10-24T21:07:00.000+05:30

In keeping with my past record of hypocrisy, I have decided to write a chain mail of my own. It should reach your mailbox in a few days, but to keep you from dieing of curiosity, here it is for your reading pleasure:

ONCE YOU STRT REEDING THIS DONT STP OR ELSE……

Isnt the world suck a luvly plase?

So happy, happy , so much love.

But sad things als hppen, sad, sad sigh!

Forward this mial 2 20 gillion bajilion ppl. Or else a monkey wearing a tutu will appear o your bed when ur slepin and so back filps and piroutes on ur back, and then proceed to throw up on your favorite shirt. I swear. If you think this is some kind of joke then just listn to what these ppl hav 2 say:

DAMN I frikkin loved that shirt.

OH MY GOD!!! THE TUTU!!!! OH THE HUMANITY!!!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!THE HORROR!THE HORROR

SEND THIS MAIL OUT!!!!!!!!!ND DON FWD OR COPI ND PASTE. TYPE IT DOWN AGAIN AND USE THE MOST ATROCIOUS GRMMR YOU CAN.

What do you think?

Another Forward?

2005-10-23T22:33:00.002+05:30

I guess some people didnt read my rant about forwards. Those interested can please look it up in my archives as I cant be bothered to link. Anyhoo, I got this mail in my inbox today:

Date: Tue, 11 Oct 2005 10:51:01 +0000

WHEN U ALREADY START READING THIS DONT STOP OR ELSE

SUMTHIN BAD
WILL HAPPEN ..... MY NAME IS SUMMER...I AM 15 YEARS OLD WITH BLONDE HAIR AND SCARY EYES. I HAVE NO NOSE OR EARS. I AM DEAD. IF U DO NOT SEND THIS TO 15PPL IN THE NEXT 5 MINS, I WILL APPEAR TONIGHT BY YOUR BED WITH A KNIFE AND KILL YOU. THIS IS NO

JOKE SOMETHING GOOD WILL HAPPEN TO U TONIGHT AT 10:22. SOMEONE WILL CALL U OR TALK TO U ONLINE AND SAY I LOVE U. DON'T FWARD COPI ND PAST

What more can I say?

I know we just had a blogmeet....

2005-10-22T22:01:00.000+05:30

....but me and the gamesmaster were inconvenienced by international boundries and cound not make it. How bout a redux when he's in town?

"O brave new world that has such people in it......"

2005-10-22T00:46:00.000+05:30

“But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

-John the Savage.

Those of you haven’t already read Brave New World should do so immediately. Huxley may have been a shameless hypocrite, but his work is pure genius, and Brave New World is a prime example of both his hypocrisy and his genius. If you want to know how, then please go out and purchase a copy right away*, you won’t regret it.

This post however, is not a book review, and nor is it a shameless propaganda piece**. What I aim to do with this post is to pose a question to all my readers (that’s right, all four of you)-In the book, John’s point of view and the general point of view of society represent two extremes between whom there is no middle path. In the year 632 AF, there is a clear choice for the savage and other free thinkers- the insanity of society, or the madness of a savage reserve. One, a utopia, where every need is met, every desire fulfilled, and every carnal hunger quenched, but where there is no concept of freedom. Where no matter how free you may think you are, or how freely you move about, there is never any true freedom, never any true beauty, never any solitude, never any escape from society. There is no instability, no sadness, but also, no ambition, no love, no feeling. Everything is balanced. Everything is done for the good of the society. There is no individual. Everyone is a cell in the larger social body. People are meat, objects- disposable. But everyone is happy. People walk around the streets, doing their jobs, being promiscuous, chewing their sex hormone chewing gum and taking soma holidays, as well as venturing out into the countryside to play sports that require complex apparatus, so that they may consume transport as well as the manufactured apparatus. Basically, doing everything they were programmed to do. No one is in charge, so as to speak, not even the world controllers. Everyone does only what they have been conditioned to do. Dangerous thinking cannot succeed because though the thinkers themselves may have been poorly conditioned, most others have not, and thus, no one is going to listen to anything anyone might have to say. Humanity is a slave to itself. On the other hand, is a wild and dangerous society, still primal in its ways, where pain is self inflicted as an act of penance, and where disease and the ravages of old age exist unchecked. But this is also a society where a concept of virtue still exists, where heroism and nobleness are not forgotten values, where art and God still exist. A place where there is something deeper. Where immediate satisfaction and shallow pleasure are not the only objects of human life. A place where one can be alone, where one can be moved by emotions other than pleasure or lust, where everything isn’t so……balanced.

The question is a simple one, at least superficially. If it were up to you, dear reader, which world would you choose to live in? Would you choose to forget all of life’s troubles and complexities, and live life in a permanent infantile state, only doing what you have been conditioned to do, only feeling what you have been conditioned to feel, permanently happy, permanently content(if not, there’s always soma-one cubic centimeter cure ten gloomy sentiments!), permanently balanced in all respects, permanently shallow and childish? Or would you keep your freedom and risk your body and mind-the body to diseases and age, both of which do not exist in civilized society, and the mind to melancholy, loneliness, and the disillusionment that comes with age?

What would you choose - happiness and stability with no freedom, or life, raw, unforgiving and primal?

*Flamingo did NOT pay me to write this. Honest.

**Okay, maybe a little.

Singapore!!!!

2005-10-20T13:23:00.001+05:30

Due to requests from about half the people that read my blog, i.e., 2, I am writing this post detailing my trip to Singapore and Malaysia.

After engaging in a verbal spar that most of you probably know nothing about on this very blog, I decided to give my keyboard a rest and head off to Singapore, where, if possible, I would show other peoples keyboards to a bad time in general, apart from engaging in other, less geeky and far more touristy activities.* So off I went on Jet Star Asia flight 3K-572, to discover, to my greatest joy, that no matter what people may tell you about low cost airlines being pathetic and what a miserable experience flying on them was, you could really have no idea how really miserable (for most at least) such an experience could be until you actually experienced it for yourself

I shall try my best to illustrate the situation as it stood about halfway through the flight: most of the people who were still sane or breathing(a small minority) were ready tried their luck with a parachute, if such luxuries were available on Jet Star Airways. I, however, was watching Scrubs on a rented media screen, thoroughly enjoying the bus-y atmosphere (bumpkins staring at the A.C. vents in awe, people begging me to take photographs of them on the plane, so that they would be able to prove that really were on a plane when they got back to whatever village they came from, and other bumpkins begging me to take a picture of them posing next to the A.C. vents, all the while munching on carrots or uncooked peas)(seriously)(this is not made up), and was not affected by the minimal leg room, mainly because my legs were spread out on the two empty seats beside me, and grinning inwardly at how much fun it would be to blog about this.

We landed in Singapore at around 1:30 am (their time) or approximately 11:00pm IST.

Needless to say, we** were not remotely sleepy, and spent most of the night(and early morning) wandering the streets of the seedy district of Serangoon(Little India) and encountering people and having adventures of the sort that are best not mentioned on a public domain. We also wandered around Mustafa Centre, one of the biggest(and most confusing) shopping centres in Singapore, which was conveniently placed directly opposite to our hotel. In Mustafa we mainly looked around, irritated shopkeepers by making endless inquiries about items up for sale, and admired the fine young ladies who were out shopping for clothes at unspeakable hours, while wearing none themselves. All in all, our first night was a truly wholesome experience.

The next day we toured Singapore in a bus, with a truly irritating guide begging us(unsuccessfully) to learn something( gasp!). We also saw the night safari.

Information about most of the stuff we saw that day is easily found on the web, and is mostly of a touristy kind, so I shall not bore you with these details.

On the third day, most of us seniors stayed back at the hotel while the rest of the group had to get up at the ungodly hour of 8(am!!!). While most of us wanted to sleep in, I had some shopping to finish, and thus dragged a friend and a senior along to help. We cabbed it to Sim Lim Plaza , the local chor bazaar , and went hunting for the elusive electronic goods I was in pursuit of. Here we had another adventure of the unmentionable kind, discovered that, while almost everything was available here, it was likely to be of a jaali variety, and, though this was to be expected in a chor bazaar, the people selling the stuff were so unsavoury, that our minds were almost immediately thrown off from buying anything, and were more set on find the nearest exit and running for our lives. We came to this conclusion after we, having bargained successfully for said goods, discovered that most of the components that should have come free were missing, and that it was truly rather easier and safer to buy the goods from good ol’ cal, and decided against buying the item, were nearly mobbed by the shopkeeper and his “assistants”, following which we turned on our heels, found the nearest exit and ran for our lives, all the while screaming in a way that would have given a tantrum-throwing 3 year old a complex.

After this followed much sightseeing, a day in Genting highland theme park, where the aforementioned screaming skills came in rather handy (for the roller coasters silly), a day in Kula Lumpur, where we once again left the group to shop at KLCC, and many other unmentionable adventures.

Cant wait to go back.

*Not really, the trip had been long planned and awaited. I just wanted an excuse to mention the spar.

**Me an my friends from my class, altogether 4 of us on the trip. The other people on the trip are not included in the "we".

EDIT: Ye gods! Just read the post myself, and am still reeling from shock at all the grammatical and editorial errors, the main cause of which was the fact that I have never edited(or even read) a post after writing. I must commend my readers(all 4 of them), and pose them a question in all seriousness-how can you sgtand to read this crap? I assure you that all posts will now be checked and edited, then rechecked and reedited, before they are posted.

BOOM!!!!

2005-10-16T22:48:00.000+05:30

I come back from Singapore, and this blows up in my face!
Thats right, the whole IIPM shenanigan....

Right then.......
If there are any of you assholes out there reading this, kindly leave your appallingly misspelt hate comments here, we're all just itching to hear what you have to say here you spineless bunch of buttfucking spammers.

Theres really nothing left to say about this issue, except that it would be advisable for some people to take their greasy ponytails and put them where the sun don't shine.

Dont like what I just said?
Sue me.....

The price for taking me too seriously........

2005-10-08T22:13:00.000+05:30

1.8 million USD or your life.
Pay by VISA/Mastercard or weapon of your choice*.

*Blunt, rusty metallic objects preffered. Contact me for discount rates.

Footbreak Hotel

2005-10-06T20:17:00.000+05:30

Managed to break my foot. Don’t ask me how, the answer is not forthcoming and rather embarrassing(for me). Having to undergo physiotherapy for it though, and I’ll tell you this much-it is not a pleasant experience. First of all, physiotherapy is NOT what I expected it to be, i.e, something involving a lot of stretching and a man named Gloster, rather, it involves having foul smelling substances smeared on your foot by an unattractive Bengali lady, who then proceeds to prod you with a sonography stick(which is a heating iron and nothing but a heating iron, no matter what they tell you), and having a smelly old Bengali man put evil looking boiling hot wax into a plastic packet, which is placed on your now smelly foot, while chatting up said unattractive Bengali lady.

All in all, not a pleasant experience. Any sympathy will be appreciated, especially the folding kind.

Getting my foot wax-roasted

Tag 23

2005-10-05T21:05:00.000+05:30

and all of a sudden these stupid pornographers start pestering me to find a "Real LIVE sex partner in NEW DELHI!!!" and start popping this stupid message on every single site I visit, deludedly beleiving that ONE more pop-up will convince me to have sex with that blonde that looks like my ass on a particularly bad day(and probably lives in Sluttville, FL)....

This is from my 27th post, as I had written more one line posts than you can shake a shitty stick at prior to this one.

For the lucky few who came in late this is what the tag is all about:

1. Delve into your blog archive
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to)
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to)
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions
5. Tag five people to do the same

So, to complete the tag, and give a few people a new headache, I have tagged:

Rajesh, Jai, Archster, Vulturo and the greatbong

Who The Fuck Is Tendulkar?

2005-10-05T01:50:00.000+05:30

Found this post while randomly bloghopping, and realised that this is just the type of senseless consumerist crap that has killed off Indian sport.

"I don't understand why are we obligated to support a sport that we don't care about. Does anyone think that the Indian people will gather in millions to watch a weight lighting competition? Just because somebody has a talent doesn't mean others are obligated to appreciate it. Western countries are rich and government has plenty of tax-payers money to waste on developing talents that only a few care about. But I am sorry, we can't afford to do the same. Instead of lamenting the fate of such athlets maybe we should stop sending them to the Olympics, the Asiad and other International competitions and save some more of the tax-payer's money."

and why, they ask, do we suck so bad at everything? Once upon a time India dominated the world hockey arena. No more. Now most people have only seen hockey as a sport played by white kids on ice in The Mighty Ducks, or while watching the PHL ads. Dhanraj Pillai is probably the only hockey player they've ever heard of, and probably by pure chance at that. Cricket, and now, to some extent, tennis, are the only sports that can draw crowds(though most Indians in the stands at Sania matches hardly ever notice the ball or the opponent) . Cricket is everything in Indian sport. Cricket is God, and it creates other Gods, of the untaxed Ferrari driving kind.

Why, they is ask, is Cricket so big? And the answer comes back, quick as a Brett Lee bouncer- Cricket is big because thats all we are good at. And not too good either.

Want proof? Note then that when R.S. Rathore won a silver at the Olympics, he gained instant celebrity status that lasts (though diminished) till today. Want more? Two words- Sania Mirza.

Why, they ask, slightly irritably, do we suck so bad at everything? Why is Football, the world's biggest and richest sport a non entity on the Indian scene? And this time the answer come quicker- because jackasses like the one mentioned above think that spending money on unpopular sports is a drain on the national excheqer, which would do better to throw money at the already bloated BCCI.

Let me make my point clearer. If a sports ministry exists, it exists for a reason. That reason, I'm afraid to say is not stopping India from participating in international sporting events and telling budding athletes that they are a bunch of complete losers who the planet would be better without. Unpopular sports need to be eveloped, and budding talent encouraged. If we have talent, and can compete on an international level, then there is no stopping Indian sports from becoming popular, not only in India, but also internationally. Who can deny Indian football if it gives us an Indian Beckham*?

Athletics can produce no stars you say? Who then, I ask, are Anju Bobby George and P.T. Usha ?

I am, by no means trying to imply that Government expenditure on sport is adequete and/or helpful. It is not. Not by a long shot. But it is something, and to say that even this little money that goes into developing sports infrastructure(or attempting to, without too much zeal I might add) is useless and wasteful is arrogant and an extremely haughty stance.

"No need to lament over the fate of athelets whose sport we don't care about"

you say? Everyone is entitled to an opinion. And mine is that you should take your Niti and stuff it.

*Not that this is too likely.
P.S. What on God's good Earth is an athlet?

What is it.....

2005-10-04T00:45:00.000+05:30

What is it with perfectionist killers and hair?

Googlebombs Away!

2005-10-03T02:02:00.000+05:30

Who here knows an insensitive jerk?
I know an insensitive jerk.
Do you know who this insensitive jerk is?
Go here to discover the identity of this insensitive jerk.

Adults Only

2005-09-30T15:47:00.000+05:30

Read this post at the Scary Duck's blog. Please.
After you have read it, kindly step out and purchase this book.

Please note that I hold no responsibility for any mental and/or physical that may occur directly or indirectly as a consequence of reading these and/or any other links that you may find hidden around various areas of this blog.

Why Is It?

2005-09-29T12:47:00.000+05:30

That "soothsayers" always say things that aren't exactly very soothing?

A Short Short Once More!!!

2005-09-27T11:41:00.000+05:30

Read this post which I found at the latest Blog Mela......then screwed around with the idea in my head till I came up with this:

The End

I stared at the small device in my hand, watching the red digits on the LED display blink.
"This is crazy"said a voice
"No...it's the sanest thing you've ever done"
One moment...one flick of a switch and it would all be over..
No pain.....no responsibilities....no worries....
I closed my eyes and pushed the button...
*buzz*
A minute later, I opened my eyes, and stared down at the still blinking display.
"Piece of shit" I thought while flinging it out my window.

Damn it....I overshot by 30 words...

Salaam Namaste?

2005-09-26T21:53:00.000+05:30

If any of you read the reviews and thought this was a fluffy popcorn flick that you can see with our parents, be prepared for a shock. No, it's really NOT a fluffy popcorn flick that you can see with our parents, idiot, it's a fleshy semi-comedy(not good comedy, but comedy nonetheless) with loads of skin on display( both Preity's and Saifs, and NO it's not pleasant to see a shirtless Saif lift up his arms and wave them like a monkey to show us his hairy pits)...DONT, for any reason ,see it with your parents, or, as I did, with your parents AS WELL AS your grandparents, that is, unless you enjoy squirming uncomfartably in your seat as Preity moans orgasmically while eating Ben and Jerrys Belgian Dark Chocolate Ice cream.....

Though the first half of the movie contains most of the light hearted excuse for humour(though some of the stuff like Javed Jaffrey's bit actually is funny), it was the second half that had me embarrasing myself by literally falling off my seat laughing, with such glorious comedic moments as:

A very heavily pregnant Preity doing the moonwalk
Arshad Warsi performing cunnilingus on his wife while shes in labour
A woman informing Saif he'll make a good father after talikng to him for 5 seconds(it went "Hi" "Hello" "Is this your son?""Yes, are you having a baby?""Yes""You'll make a great father, I know it....")
Preity feeling her baby kick inside her cavernous stomach for the first time after being pregnant for 8 months.
Saif ripping his shirt off for no reason after every four seconds
Preity ripping Saif's shirt off in the time in between
Arshad's baby coming out a bloody mess, while Saif's comes out all warm ad cuddly and wrapped in a blanket(apparently Arshads' son couldn't get the same womb spa reservations)

.....and loads of other stuff. But don't take my word for it- go see the movie for yourself, and hope your parents dont read this post...

Powerslave

2005-09-24T22:23:00.000+05:30

He was a god.
Ruler of lands, dispenser of justice.
Guardian of the divine truth.
He was king-omnipotent, immortal.
Why then, he asked, must it end like this?
In the end, he died the worst possible death.
Power was not an illusion. Power was everything.
Power was God.
He, more than anyone, was a slave.
He was pharoah. He was the powerslave.

P.S.:Meant to be 55 fiction. Obviously, I overshot the word limit, and I won't bother counting.
P.P.S.:Yes.....I am an Eddiehead.
P.P.P.S.:For the uninitiated, that means someone who loves Iron Maiden
P.P.P.S:I'm doing a lot of post scripts lately, are'nt I?

Life, the Universe and Everything

2005-09-22T20:30:00.000+05:30

Has anyone ever really bothered to ask what all the fuss is about anyway? If you consider all the time we put in to trying to find out WHY we're here, it's really no wonder we haven't discovered slood* yet. We're HERE godammit, why do we have to worry about WHY? So WHAt if the Earth is slowly self destructing under our feet? It's really just a tiny blue speck on the vast inky blackness of nothing that forms everything-it rather spoils the view, according to me. Either way, I'll be hitching the next ride out of here- so you people can enjoy worrying about your immediate survival while reading my blog - don't worry, I'll post regularly, distance notwithstanding......

P.S.-Does anyone have a towel handy?
P.P.S-Please read Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy to understand the context of this post....
P.P.P.S-Actually, read Hitchhiker anyway.....

*Please read The Last Continent by Terry Pratchett to get that one...yes, I know, this post is really heavy on literature....but if you haven't read these books I don't know what you're doing here in the first place...

Another! Short Short

2005-09-20T22:57:00.000+05:30

Principles Of Lust 2

He loved the way she turned him on.
She loved the way he got her wet.
He loved the way she let him squirt his stuff all over her body.
She loved how his company felt at the end of a long, hot day.
He loved how she undressed in front of him.

Who says you cant love the shower?

*Italicised sentences do not count towards the word count. I know - it feels good to cheat....*

Finally!

2005-09-20T22:45:00.000+05:30

I have something to post about! I've been sufferng from a bad case of bloggers block lately, just cant seem to able to think of anything to blog about. Anyway, read this-out loud if anyones nearby, out louder if anyone isn't nearby.

Thanks a bunch Teleute!

AARGH!!!

2005-09-20T22:09:00.000+05:30

Is It Just Me?

2005-09-18T11:25:00.000+05:30

...or are elections getting more entertaining by the second? No one can really beat the Great Indian Tamasha (well done NDTV) when it comes to getting loads of plot twists and extra spicy dialouge(how is the film industry still alive with this knid of competition?) and even K-serial-ish stories of love and betrayal(as well as Smriti Irani!). But an election takes on a special aura if it takes place in the cow capital of the world - Bihar! Please consider the following goings-on during the run up to the Bihar polls-

This man, who is fighting Rabri Devi in her constituency, and beleives that the way to end Lalu Raj is by dreesing up and acting like him!
This parrot, who gives party switching new dimension, and led a senior JD(U) leader (who is apparently a beleiver in bird signs, whatever that is) to say "Parrots are a good omen. They siganl prestige and success, and Nitish Kumar to say "animals are very sensible. They know right from wrong(too bad he doesn't).

Speaking of birds in general, The Duck Of Destiny seems to have lost its quack, and is not loading-any news?

Whats In A Song?

2005-09-18T11:09:00.000+05:30

....And I thought remixes were bad-apparently the Tamil film and music industry has taken music vulgarity to the next level - lyrics.....and not even factory made American pop vulgarity, these are vulgar lyrics with a difference - it wont make you squirm if youre near your parent - it'll make all of you laugh till you cry - wholesome, family vulgarity. Dont beleive me? Chew on this:-

Sarakku Vechirrukken yerraki vechirruken or "I have the necessary stuff and have kept it down

Lunchukku oru Manjula, Dinnerukuku oru Vennila or "Manjula for lunch, Vennila for dinner"(those are womens name, o ye who knowest not Indian names.

And thats not the half of it - apparently most of new Tamil songs that can be heard blaring from restaurants and marriage proccesions sound equally, if not more, hilarious. Especially ones written by great contemporary Tamil poets, like Vairamuthu, who holds titles like Padma Shri and Kaviarasu(Emperor amonmg poets).

So if "Who's line" isn't cutting it any more, and you desperatel need a vacation, head down south! Who can beat a little comic releif served with coconut chutney and dosa?

Sexiest Woman Alive?

2005-09-17T19:44:00.000+05:30

She just might have been in ancient Arabia......read this article from the Shrine Of Insanity.......

Another Short Short

2005-09-16T21:27:00.001+05:30

Principles Of Lust

I looked at her with growing lust in my eyes.
Slowly, I undressed her, unwrapped her beautiful gold gown.
She looked wonderful, in all her glowing brown splendour
Teasingly, I drew her close to my lips....
and proceeded to take a large bit out of her.
I love chocolate.....

Hello Again......

2005-09-15T15:28:00.000+05:30

Hello Arijit, it's me, God....
Really?
Yes....
*long pause*
Well......what is it?
Nothing.....
Then why did you call me?
No reason...........just wanted to show you how irritating that is....
*click*
Jerk!
Hehe.....

Hello.......

2005-09-15T15:20:00.000+05:30

Hello God, it's me, Arijit
What is it?
Huh?
Well, what is it then?
Is that really......you?
Who else would I be?
No, I mean....
I'm really busy you know...is there anything in particular you want to talk about?
No, not really....
Then please stop wasting my time....I DO have things to do you know
Fine then...I guess I'll be seeing you......eventually...
I seriously doubt it.....
*click*
Jerk
Jerk

Black Man In Suit

2005-09-15T00:08:00.000+05:30

He looked at the man in the suit through his dark shades.
The man in the suit looked back at him through his dark shades.
He admired the mans black suit, which was the same as his own.
"You know the difference between you and me?" he said, pausing for effect "I make this look good..."

Yes.....it IS a reference to "Men In Black"

Questions....

2005-09-14T23:50:00.000+05:30

Raj shook in his boots as he stared at the old man in front of him.
The old man held the key to his future, the key to everything...
He had no choice now, all his lifeboats were sunk.....
He looked once more at the screen....
He guessed.
"Lock kar diya jaye?" asked the old man.....

Just To Warm Up Then...

2005-09-14T23:30:00.000+05:30

The First One

The blogger watched from a distance.
He watched them from the outside,as they typed furiously.
He waited at the door,wanting to join the party, but too proud to ring the bell.
Some saw him, but none realised why he was there.
"Aw, screw it..."
He pushed.
The door was open.
It always had been.

51 words then...not bad for a start...what do you think?

Since Nobody's Going To Tag Me......

2005-09-14T23:24:00.000+05:30

I shall tag myself...(take THAT all you who have not faith in my writing prowess)
I am going to attempt to write a series of of short sorts, i.e, a series of short stories written in 55 word or less.......right.....lets see what kind of mess I can make of this one.......

Lost In Translation?

2005-09-14T16:59:00.000+05:30

These are the names of all the Dragon Ball Z movies so far, with the early japanese translate titles given alongside....

Dead Zone (Return My Gohan!)
The World's Strongest (The World's Strongest Guy)
The Tree of Might (Ultimate Decisive Battle For Earth)
Lord Slug (Super Saiyan Son Goku)
Cooler's Revenge (Best of Strongest Verses Strongest)
Return of Cooler (Warriors Clash! The 10 Billion Powerful Warriors)
Super Android 13 (Extreme Battle! The Three Great Super Saiyans!)
Broly: The Legendary Super Saiyan (Burn Your Spirits to the Max!! Close Battle, Violent Battle, Super Bloody Battle)
Bojack Unbound (The Galaxy is in Danger! The Super Awesome Guy!)
Broly: The Second Coming (Dangerous Partners! Super Warriors Never Rest!)
Bio-broly(Crushing Super Warrior! I Am The Winner)
The Rebirth Of Fusion! Goku and Vegeta! (Not yet released in English)
Dragon Fist Assault! If Goku Can't Do It, Who Can? (Not yet released in English)

Overheard In The Team India Locker Room..(CRICKET OBVIOUSLY!!)

2005-09-08T17:18:00.001+05:30

It's just another quite day in Kolkata....birds tittering sweetly on the trees, frogs croaking sombrely by the many lakes......and the usual pushing and shoving and rioting outside Eden Gardens. Usual, that is to say, on a day like this, when cricket was going to be played . It is true, a huge crowd would gather anywhere, so long as the Indian Team,or any given number of its members, was present...even if they were present to have a quite drink and chat with friends.....or even rush to tho loo..it really didn't matter....the players expected it-they would be dissapointed if their peace wasn't interrupted, even in the loo.....no one can really answer natures call properly if they knew that a mob should have been waiting outside and wasn't.....it wasn't natural. The players were presently in the only place where they could eat and strap on their groin cups in peace-their dressing room-just before a very important match....

Greg Chappel: Now, I know our previous performances in finals haven't been.......all that good.....but I'm pretty confident that we SHOULD be able to win this one....the opposition isn't all that good, and really, I think that today could be the day you guys get back in form....best of luck guys...I know you can do it...

India win the toss and decide to bat-Virendra Sehwag is padding up with Saurav Ganguly before heading out to open the innings.

Viru(muttering to himself): Come on Viru....you can do it today....so WHAT if you havent scored for the past couple hundred ODI's...today can be your day, you can .....oh crap..this really isn't wotkin....I'm going to have to fire that Arindam chap....really, he does seem to find a way to motivate me so much when I tell him he isn't working...but it's gone too far....I think I need to try something new....
(hu-uh)
Strains as he puts on underwear that might is more appropriately sized for a forest pixie.
It wasn't THIS tight yesterday.....gosh, I think I need to wipe the dust of that treadmill....
He walks of to get warmed up, fully padded up.
Saurav Da is also padding up, while humming a strange tune to himself.....it sounds a lot like "Ekla Cholo Re" but he seems to have added his own lyrics.
Dada:Thats funny.....I'm pretty sure I left them here.......oh well, I guess I'll just use these....
Finishes padding up and proceeds to the field to start the match.

The match is off to a flying start....Sehwag seems eager to hit a six or a four off every ball, and Saurav Da seems to have regained lost form...

Harsha Bogle(commentating): Wow! the Indians have got off to a spectacular start...both the openers seem to be really eager to make as many runs in as little time.
Navjot Singh Sidhu(also commentating): Yes Harsha, they both seem to have ants in their pants....it really is true, when when Sehwag starts to smash, the ladies' boxers come down crash!
Harsha:Yes...yes....I'm pretty sure that thats true, whatever it means.........

Fast forward to the last ball of the last over......India seem to have struck brilliant form, with both openers still at the crease, and the score approachin 400.....Sehwag is on 194, and Ganguly on 35. Surprisingly, 167 extras have been bowled, mostly in the form of balls that Ganguly more or less kicked to the boundary.

Sehwag is facing the last ball......up in the dressing room, Rahul Dravid is sulking about not being able to face a ball...suddenly, he hears a phone ring...he looks around and finds Sehwags Reliance cell phone is ringing. He answers the call.

The bowler is charging down the pitch at Sehwag to deliver the final ball.....Sehwag needs to score a six to get his team to 400, and himself to 200-creating history in both cases.

Suddenly he catches a glimpse of Rahul frantically waving his cell phone in the air. He puts up his hand to stop the bowler, and beckons to Rahul. Rahul runs up urgently and hands Sehwag his phone...
Rahul: It's......
Sehwg puts the phone to his ear, already knowing....
Sehwag: Ma.......
Sehwag ki Ma: Betaa.....kar.....duni....mitti....ein
Sehwag: Kyaa?
Sehwag ki Ma: Kar..lo.....mitti....
Sehwag: Sunayi nahi deta ma......match ke baad Airtel mein phone kar...

Sehwag hangs up the phone and returns to his crease, scores the six and is the hero of the day as they beat the opposition by roughly 300 runs......

Sehwag and Ganguly never bought underwear that fit again.
Neither had any children thereafter, and had much publicised divorces....
Can't have your cake and eat it too.......

"And We Impeached Clinton For A Blowjob?".......

2005-09-07T13:15:00.000+05:30

Another groundbreaking series of maneouvors by my idol George "Ima Gonna Bomb Ai-rak If I'm Bored" Bush!!!
Read this article about his latest ground-breaking efforts to ease the suffering of millions of starving civiliansby denying then basic aid...

And then read this post by Adam.

Isn't it amazing how Bush thanks the people who put him in the white house TWICE by giving him an astounding 48% approval rate!!!

Long Live The King!!!!

Lookie What I Found In My Mailbox Today..........

2005-09-06T17:02:00.000+05:30

A man and his wife were getting a divorce at a local
court.

But the custody of their children posed a problem.The mother jumped to her feet and protested to the judge that since she had brought the children into this world, she should retain custody of them. The man also wanted custody of his children. The judge
asked for his side of the story too. After a long moment of silence,
the man rose from his chair and replied: "Judge, when I put a dollar
into a vending machine, and a Pepsi comes out, does the Pepsi belong
to me or to the
machine?"

believe it or not.......the dude won...

The Mug Of Life....

2005-09-04T12:03:00.000+05:30

Coffee…

My Coffee…

My coffee is black…

No milk, No sugar,

No whipped or ice cream.

Only strong, black and bitter coffee…

Crap….Sounds like essence of Mike Tyson.

But drink I must, and drink I shall

I shall drink heartily from this mug of life…

*Here Goes*

*Blanch*

* Spit*

DAMN! This tastes like the back of a shirt!

Got Milk?

This is my first attempt at this form of poetry....the number of words in each sentence increase by one with each new line...However I am not too good at this , so you might notice that if, and, of, etc. are not counted as words in some lines, they are in others, also, as in line 7, some words that are written apart from the text are there for effect and do not count ......nevertheless, you might find it funny (though you're not likely to)...so let me know how you liked it........

This is Spooky......

2005-09-03T23:50:00.000+05:30

It was a broiling August afternoon in New Orleans, Louisiana, the Big Easy, the City That Care Forgot. Those who ventured outside moved as if they were swimming in tupelo honey. Those inside paid silent homage to the man who invented air-conditioning as they watched TV "storm teams" warn of a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing surprising there: Hurricanes in August are as much a part of life in this town as hangovers on Ash Wednesday.

But the next day the storm gathered steam and drew a bead on the city. As the whirling maelstrom approached the coast, more than a million people evacuated to higher ground. Some 200,000 remained, however—the car-less, the homeless, the aged and infirm, and those die-hard New Orleanians who look for any excuse to throw a party.

The storm hit Breton Sound with the fury of a nuclear warhead, pushing a deadly storm surge into Lake Pontchartrain. The water crept to the top of the massive berm that holds back the lake and then spilled over. Nearly 80 percent of New Orleans lies below sea level—more than eight feet below in places—so the water poured in. A liquid brown wall washed over the brick ranch homes of Gentilly, over the clapboard houses of the Ninth Ward, over the white-columned porches of the Garden District, until it raced through the bars and strip joints on Bourbon Street like the pale rider of the Apocalypse. As it reached 25 feet (eight meters) over parts of the city, people climbed onto roofs to escape it.

Right.....I'm guessin all of you probably already know about Katrina, and this article is nothing new.....wanna hear the freaky part?
THIS WAS WRITTEN IN OCTOBER, 2004!!
Go on, read it.....

The Magical Powers Of Ringtones

2005-09-02T00:05:00.000+05:30

Check out what Rajesh has to say about the effects of ringtones on...err....*society*....Here

God Dammitt!!!!!!!!!!

2005-09-01T17:16:00.000+05:30

These stupid forwards are pissing me off in a grand way. I swear to god if ONE more person forwards me another STUPID FUCKIN CHAIN LETTER I will print out a hundred copies and personally stuff each and every one down his/her useless throat.
If there are any of you stupid forwarders reading this, then STOP BOMBARDING MY E-MAIL ACCOUNT WITH YOUR STUPID SHIT......My love life is just fine, and noone is going to sleep with me if I forward your stupid mail to 1100 people, I am also not a big beleiver in bad luck occuring through failure to forward a shitty message, and neither am I interested in dubious offers for free goodies earned solely through forwarding a stupid mail to everyone in my list....keep your free penis enlargement pills to yourself please, and stop sending me your useless, sapce consuming crap.

(Ironically, if any of you like this, you are likely to mail this to your freinds, and it might just become another forwarding craze........in case of such a development, please inform me about my popularity, but refrain from mailing me my own peices......)

Does Anyone Here Watch Desperate Houswives?

2005-09-01T15:54:00.000+05:30

Well, I saw desperate housewives for the first time when it premiered in India, mainly because of:
a) The Name
b) The ads I saw were really hot, and
c) My mom didn't like me watching it.

Well I did see it, and I liked what I saw, so I still try to catch it whenever I can, mainly because of:
a) The Name
b) The episode I saw was really hot, and
c) My mom doesn''t like me watching it.

My reasons for viewing the show aside, I couldn't help but notice how different it was from our own desi soaps. Some differences arose from cultural issues, but the main differences I noticed were:
a) No prolonged dramatic discussions about every female characters next move
b) No moral grandstanding
c) No constant deaths and resurrections
d) No constant chanting of the gayatri mantra
and most importantly
e) PARTIAL NUDITY

It's high time our soaps followed in the footsteps of the west, if not with all the rest, then at least with the last part......but first we have to get better heroines, I mean can you imagine Smriti Irani in her underwear? Not a pretty picture, I know, and thats why we all have to stand up to the big production houses and demand what is rightfully ours-the right to see hot INDIAN women on cable T.V. so that the crap we have to swallow every night is at least bearable to watch..... So come on walk with me to Balaji House....be sure to bring your placards, and wear your best tie and dye.....we're gonna get this, even if we have to stuff our versions of the scripts down Ekta Kapurs' once fat, now almost-scrawny throat....UNITE! FIGHT!

What is That Bear Doin To That Poor Little Kid?

2005-09-01T15:46:00.000+05:30

Saw this display at Archies in Forum........people(and bears for that matter) are getting sicker by the day. Think of how traumatised that poor little stuffed kid is gonna be all his life.......it's bears like these that should populate our zoos. He probably thinks hes being funny (it's a bit fuzzy, but the sign says-"Please, Dont Touch). Animal Rights Activists should take a cue and realise that some animals deserve to be locked up in zoos or skinned alive to hang forever around a rich old bats' neck................