.

no classes these days what to do then, except write posts and complete my schoolwork the tension doesn't let me go out I'd love to go out been so long since I actually went out and met a normal human being, which, in my universe means some who doesn't mock or hurt or judge me yes, such individuals do exist, albeit in extremely small numbers and in extremely far away places where one dare not go unless one has a lot many hours (even days!) at hand when did time become so precious to me? I hate overpriced commodities people memories whatever but then, everyone must bow to demand and supply even the mighty Soviet empire had to o ya, I also miss mint chocolate chip ice cream almost as much as friends getting really hot these days and humid kind of hollows out your head and you start typing stuff without full-stops

कारवां

Everywhere I turn to
To cast down my burden
There is a fire already burning
So I burn with a thousand fires
Do I stop looking then?
Do I sit down under the midday sun
And let the vultures and the hyenas devour me?

And
Suppose
I do find an oasis
And drink aplenty. And am fed. And am nurtured
What then?
For indeed the desert is vast
And indeed the traveller is stubborn
Bent on crossing this terrible and ghastly wasteland

PS: Thomas Stearns anyone?

Juice

I think I might be getting my creativity back.
I have been reading.
And watching movies. Just got done with Requiem for a Dream. Ya. I live in the past. I love my arm. I love natural insanity too. None of my requiems shall have sacrifices. They shall be soft dirges. With simple chord changes.
Writing. Wrote something I didn't think was trash. Lightyears since that happened last. Nevermind the fact I wrote it in class.
Listening to Coming Back to Life in an infinite loop. Damn I don't want to turn it off even when I sleep.
Sulking. Being happy. In an infinte loop.
Packing and unpacking Evil Jenny. Again an infinite loop. Loopy days these.
So there was this amazing dusk sky yesterday. And there were trippy colours. It is all about being reminded. Like blue stripes on white. Swanky palette shoes. Beautiful un-black hair. It is also about imagining the rest. Like half clouds.
Kitchen elves!

प्रतिज्ञा

I will not move till my mind is at peace. Till I have freed myself. Till I know.

chchchchanges ...

Voila!
A new look for my blog. Sorry about all the hearts. But there's birds too. And a tree. I started and deleted a music blog today. Another sign of my current instability.
Watched a lot of movies, long pending.

Waking Life

Well. It cleared up a lot of clutter in my brain. And replaced it with ten times

The Neverending Story

Reminded me of all the lovely things we did in school. I think it was our Geography teacher who took us to the video library to watch this one. Ondrilla. That was her name, I think

Stand By Me

A lovely movie. IMDb description - 'For some, it's the last real taste of innocence, and the first real taste of life'

Kiki's Delivery Service

Another studio Ghibley production. Weird settings. Weird storyline. A very engaging film!

She's All That

The worst movie of the lot. Sappy dripping chic flick. Not recommended for people above 12. Watched it only for Rachael Leigh Cook!!

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Burton + Depp. Need I say more?

Grand Hotel

A real oldie. 1932. A script that makes you wonder whether the papers reported the writers' strike 50 years too late

The Broadway Melody

Another oldie! 1929. It had a lovely description of an artist/performer's life. Their reasons to carry on. Their reasons to stop.

I am Legend

A modern shoot 'em up zombie movie

Quitting coffee is hard. It is equal to 8 hours of sleep and 2 hours of headache per day. Both highly undesirable. All the worrying about the project is killing me. Scaring me. Making me lazier? And finally it boils down to this one question I remember from Waking Life.

Which is the most universal human characteristic - fear or laziness?

Shamsa Kanwal

When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in my bed.
-Counting Crows

I've seen new born babies, crying like a moaning dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
-Dylan

It's really nice what you wrote

There's pieces of people. Inside other people. That is what makes lives surpass their duration. So theres future in the now.

Not nit not

Yesterday night was Hostel Night. Celebrations. Drinks. Toasts. Laughter. Tears even, they said. Strummed three tunes. They choked in their dance. The electric whimpered too. The stone was stone.
Later, the rooftop. The stars. The clouds. Tagging them with shapes. Burdening them with meaning. I am certain of my loneliness now. Any many company, any much talking can't make me not alone.
So no grief.
No desire for shapes.

I’m not your larder. I’m Alife your guarder.

Yes grief. For the no grief. I am scared of having turned ice. I don't want a frozen heart.
Warm me.

Alife my larder. I can't forsake you or forsqueak you.
- Robert Wyatt. Rockbottom.

Elec Nite

Here's to walking out halfway through an adieu party .
Here's to remembrances. To people who half-exist. Who drive you out of your own. Drive you towards a cup of coffee. Toward a lonely evening with a table lamp.
Here's to running away from freedom.
Here's to 'You're the closest to heaven that I've ever been. And I don't want to miss you right now'.
Here's to incorrect lyrics that sound better than the correct.
Here's to running into yourself. Again and again.
Here's to being struck. Being sleepless. Being used. Being unused.
Here's to wanting. Here's to not getting. Here's to nowhere and no how.
Here's to council from the deads and the fools. To the warmth in their company. To the reassurance in their wretchedness.

Here's to all that. And to silences broken by tch-tchs from a keyboard.

Ourselves

' Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds ... '
Redemption Song by Bob the Hippie Rasta.

The song is supposed to carry with it airs of political rebellion. Of unrest. Of a strong desire to be free. And those airs it does carry, faithfully and in abundance. But today, fighting with myself I realised - behind those melancholy staccato strums, behind the sad heart breaking recital lies a simple plan. A simple lesson. As much personal as political. The plan called action. And yet, at his point of time, this simple plan is a blow to my very concept of freedom. For me freedom stood for free fall. Letting go.
But for the simple minded rasta freedom lies in strife. In effort. First, for the attainment, and then for sustenance. And it is not the pot, but this freedom that I gratefully accept from you, brother.
I am scared of the impending strife. I am not good at it. But I must accept it. Must find a way to feel one with it. Because after all, it is my freedom.

Credits: Staccato. TB(oO) and Vane.

façade

Today I realised that saying 'Hello' out loud is not mandatory. People have already warned me umpteen times against this horribly anti-social habit. They say that a smile is a much better alternative. Less messy, low on calories and high covertness. In other words, I said, a very effective façade. I was furious, almost to the point of being pitiful. The sham, the artifice!
But today, walking back from breakfast I came across this guy I don't know too well, and have no desire to either. Mostly because of his/my smugness. Automatically, without the slightest thought or provocation - out came a smile. A less messy, low calorie, highly covert smile. And at that very precise moment, I took back every Hello I have ever said. The sham, the artifice!

Over the past few days I have also realised my mind is not free in its musings. There is a dark cloud of logic gathered above my skies. It filters every soulward ray emanating from my atomic brain, so that all that reaches my shivering core is a faint smudge. There is no warmth. I think too much before I think. In zeros and ones. I have an OCD, whence every sentece must be spic and span. Perfectly ordered. Blacks and whites, clubs and spades.
Yesterday I read Heaney. Listened to Van Morrison. I realised how ordered my life is. How free their art is. How free I am. Only I refuse to accept it. I refuse to work towards it. And therein lies the issue. The arid monster. So, today, I want to be inkorect. Polætically offtrackened. Ethicaly chällenged. Erothik eveन! And so, I presen to yuo, the most wvile of ऑल human kreationß, I presenn to यू, a meop ...

not to be deflected
the arrow, puffed up
speeding busily
straight to its
          targjx

- an excerpt from 'Interferences: a sequence of nine poems' by Edwin Morgan

pablo

Every once in a while, I have these days. Of utter nothings. I am sure you have them too.
They are not necessarily Sundays or Saturdays. And they definitely don't start at a comfortable five in the evening. They are normal full-fledged working days which begin as soon as you unsleep for the first time in the day.
Yesterday was one such Day of Utter Nothing.
It hit me. Smack in the middle of an average hectic undergraduate week. Left me so so off balance. Tottering. And as always - suicidal, but for the memory of.
I awoke. And then awoke. And was finally awake at noon. Then the nothings. One after the other. You can't help it. It is worse than sleepwalking. Because you are perfectly conscious. Skipped lunch. Avoided company. Sent people away. Stared at the wall. Read something about an ubearable lightness or so. Let the phone ring.
Basically left one day of my life blank. Maybe it is a space, between two chapters. Maybe it is only a space between two words. Deliberately streched out into a vast void. The book, is only written once. Maybe. Maybe I am too tired of writing.
But in all probabilities I am just writing a lot of fancy lies to cover up my chronic dumbass laziness. I have a thing for masks and self destruction.
Sometimes I wish I were not so stranded. These strands never intertwine. Each one stretching out, like an infinite arm of the sun. With me in the center. Alone, unarmed. And burning.
There is no one to blame. Maybe.

Bulleted

I was on gtalk today, and in one of my emphatic moments of decisive randomness declared that pineapple juice makes you say whatever you want to say to strangers. From there, I went on to deduce that apple juice is better than pineapple juice, the reason being too obvious to state. But still, I will state it. Pine is useless. In curing inhibition, that is. Whatever. So yea. I was wondering. If Adam had juiced the apple and Eve and him had just sipped their glasses of cool apple juice. What then? Technically, he would've been safe. No getting kicked out of Eden drama, no leaves around the waist, no running from God like morons when you know he is omnipresent. But alas, Adam and Eve were primitive people. They didn't think of fishing out the loopholes in God's conditions and using them to float derivatives and contracts. They didn't care for all the benifits of a good healthy relationship with God their Creator based on clear cut bulleted rules. Eve was a spur of the moment woman and Adam was a dumbass. So of course it figures they ended up having two very stubborn children who kept fighting all the time. Oops. Getting wayward are we. Hm.
Oh damn. They didn't have juicers, did they?

How to identify the 'You Are Here' sign

Yea, so somebody wants to know where the 'You Are Here' sign is. Though I fall well short of the qualification demanded by the person, I can't help breaking into one of those Buddha sessions. Clear everyone, here it comes ...

Hm.
First and foremost, you are already there. Isn't the 'You Are Here' sign supposed to be like a downward arrow blinking above your head?
Further information.
The roller coaster is to the right and the rest rooms are to the left. You will have to look around for the other rides because I am also kind of new and lost around here. But yea. The 'You Are Here' is pretty much everywhere you go.
Be sure to check out the House of Mirrors. Or maybe, by the sounds of you, that's where you are right now. Don't let them mirrors fool you! They're just for fun. You're not that fat. Or thin. Or ugly. Or whatever. If you walk a few extra meters north from there, the mint and chocolate-chip ice cream is whaaaaaa!!!
Be careful with your money though. The fun is a little overpriced at times. Unless, of course, you don't mind busking around like me.
And don't turn back! That's the exit.

PS: I know we've been wandering around for roughly the same time, and our tickets carry identical sets of directions on the flip side. So you know at least as much as me. But still. Sometimes we need stuff spelled out for us. Especially the blinking signs, right above our heads.

one centimeter away

Never look at a dog with sad eyes before eating your last piece of an overpriced plum cake.

Never let a cat near you while eating chicken biriyani. Even the bright eyed ones. They will not rest till you are only left with rice.

Never make plans for Sundays. They're the trickiest of the lot.

I said my first sorry to a non-living thing today. It was too sad. I was too happy. The equation too unbalanced. Unless I added some guilt to the left hand side.

The Northern Lights

Anyone here like the smell of capsules? Yea. The regular red and yellow and blue and what not coloured thingies with bitter powder inside them. Today lunchtime I realised I need to smell, and possibly eat a capsule. Hm. I wonder what it means. Do I actually like capsules or is it just another brain wave gone awry? Whatever. Everything we think is a brain wave gone awry. Otherwise they would only travel in straight lines out of our forheads. Pretty much like sunbeams, only not so bright or useful. So basically all our thoughts are aurora.
I received two lovely little cards today. One of them has the Revontulet on it. Beautiful.
Last night I slept well. Less, around 4 hours, but well. I even dreamt about something. I think.
I have re-fallen in love with Image Processing. And Counting Crows. But never watch their videos. Duritz is sad-eyed.
O yea. I finally bought them slippers. Bata. So I am a slipper-borrower no more. Yay!

Morsels

Sometimes we are
Bah. What the ...
Sometimes I am scared. Of being happy. I have this feeling. That it is too good for me. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But that's not the point.
What all this pushing and pulling ends up in is a huge huge wave that sweeps away whatever happiness there is. Even the tad bits which my super ultra pessimistic self would allow me. I keep throwing myself into an abyss. Till I realise that I have fallen way more than I have to. Till I have no way of crawling back up. I am tired. Of trying. Because I know no matter how much I try. In the end I will end up throwing myself back into misery. And believe me, it's not the life goes in cycles of happiness and sadness thing. I force sadness upon myself. It's like I am designed for it. Automated to seek out the smallest teeniest tiniest morsels of joy and to shred them. Stamp on them. Till blue mud oozes through them.
I don't wallow in the mud though. I don't. The only thing I do is to pick up a book or Jenny or whatever and be aware that there is a slight discomfort. But I never wallow. At times, I have tried the wallowing bit too. It sucks. It's like you are scratching a bad itch till you bleed. So you just go on with your day. Let the itch itch. No matter what happens. Don't scratch. Or you will end up writing blog entries at 0100.
Whatever. Yea. So I have borrowed a pair of slippers from this guy. I will buy my own. Someday eh. Nah. This weekend.
I miss plum cakes. Tiny overpriced plum cakes. I miss them at precisely 2300 every night. I also hate having coffee alone. Darn exams.
Wait. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Hm. Does a strong urge to eat mint chocolate chip icecream count as a happy thought? Can an urge even qualify as a thought? Whatever. That's the closest I can get to a happy thought right now. No. Wait.
Naah. That's about it.

PS: Blue mud. Adrian Mitchell, 'Leaflets'.

Poker face

I am tired. And I am not even finished yet. At this particular moment. A little lonesome. Lovesome. Etc.
Yea. So I made a decision yesterday. To try to take back control. Hard. Taxing. Tiring. And I don't even know why I am doing it. I think I want to stop thinking about whys. For a little while.
Still roaming around in my shoes.
Being haunted is bad. By lines. Faces. It's scary. I want out. Stop. Even colours. And leaves.
Sisters. Visitorless days. A heaviness of the heart. Of the soul. Sometimes. They say. When you cry much. And your eyes hurt. Because you're not letting them cry with the rest of you. The soul moans. It absorbs all the tears. And finally it cries. And gives birth. To another soul. Then it always rains. But stones are prisons. Trapping in themselves many souls. Till the rain wears them out. And the souls scatter away in ten different directions.
I wish. That I wouldn't wish. But I keep wishing.
Do you ever get that feeling. That it's no use. Do you?
Zinger burgers are not bad. But I always thought KFC fries the chicken a little too deep.
Slept two hours yesterday. That makes seven hours in the past three days.
I have realised. Sometimes. When you really feel it. You don't have to think about it. You don't even have to care. About the fretboard or the strings. You just keep feeling. And listening to your soul. Rain always helps. To keep time.
I want to sleep. I can't sleep. Closing my eyes is a poker draw. Sometimes it's a blank valium sea. With me floating around in the middle. Other times I find myself on a carousel. That keeps going round and round. Till I fall off. Still awake. And hurting. I was never good at poker. They say I can't keep a straight face. Of course, you do know poker is played with faces, don't you? I always lose.
Nah. I let you win. Just for the face of you.

PS: Sorry. I am thinking in short sentences again today.

Walk

You know what's happening. My whole routine's turning inside out. I was awake for almost an hour last night telling myself to shutdown before I turned on the table lamp and gave in to the joy of trying to figure out a tracing algorithm for my project. Fucking long sentence. Whatever. But the point is. I think I slept around five and I was up at eight thirty. Kind of creepy, because I am not sleepy right now.
I have been putting off the actual programming for like ages. I have thought up and rejected a million algorithms. Nothing seems to fit. I don't have the objectives clearly defined. And all my guide wants are results. Don't even know what she means there.
Watched the first season of Grey's Anatomy. Kinky show. Whatever. What else can I do. Coffee breaks mean at least an hour. The cafeteria is so damn far off. The lead walks kind of funny. Kind of like this girl in my school.
Yea so someone asked me why I have to publish my diary for public consumption. Well, I was thinking about it and I don't think this is my diary. I have written a diary, for a month. It's way more personal and true. This blog is a sort of mask I love putting on. Because I don't have the stamina to be true to myself for more than a month.
In a diary, it's just me. I can't lie. I can't pretend. Because the reader me knows the writer me. There's just facts with footnotes. Which sort of have needle heads and saw teeth. I am tired of cutting and sewing.
So. I write crap on the internet.
Not to mention the free connection. Thank you, ye faithful taxpayers of this lovely country. Just a couple of months. Then you can juice me for all my worth. And then some more.
Damn. I broke my sandals and my slippers. And all my clothes are dirty and I have like just one fucking jeans to spend the rest of the week in. I have the laundary neatly piled up. It's not like the room's dirty or something. It's just that I don't have enough inspiration. To do laundary!! Sick bastard.
Whatever. But the sandals breaking is like totally horribly bad. Because now I have no decent footwear. I have to wear 'shoes'.YUCK.

Graphs

Man. Have had some crazy days working on the programme. Now all that remains is to programme the graphics. But something tells me its not going to be that easy.
It's been a horrible day today. I had an extra class at 1000. I forgot!! Just slept in. Realised at around 1200 that I had missed it completely. Gosh. Stupid stupid stupid me. Whatever. I needed the sleep too.
Yea. I've been wanting to do so many things lately. But no time. Yesterday I played after a long time. Cricket!! I suck now, at bowling. But yeaps. My batting's still solid enough. Basketball!! I was never very good, but I am glad to see that I have not gone down.