Fingertips

I am in constant sleeplessness. I am tired. I haven't gotten myself a house. My ears are still ringing with the rattle of train tracks as I write this. I find out newer and more horrible definitions of loneliness everyday. It's pretty cool. Kind of like a horror movie. Hilarious and Gross. I miss my music. I miss Jenny. It has been at least seven thousand years since I heard the Shirelles sing Will you still love me tomorrow. I have started on To kill a mocking bird. I hate beginning each sentence with a possessive. Fuck.
Steaming vadai are a lovely breakfast. Thunder Road and Human Touch are haunting. Jenny is the bestest thing to touch any given day. Bugatti is super sexy. Differentials have a weird gear arrangement. Nothing beats waking up to an alarm on a holiday and repenting your existence. Sardars are more universal than the universe. Pretty HR girls are dangerous. The mind refuses to forget stuff it really must forget. It is adamant and self destructive. So is friendship. That's that.

" Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, edgy and dull, and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul. At nights I wake up with my shirt soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head ... "
- Springsteen

An idle night for trashwriting

I should be so used to things not turning out my way. But somehow, I get freshly disappointed every time stuff happens. Damn it.
I've gotten super duper lethargic. I am trying. I think. Hehe.
I don't know what awaits me. I am not very keen on finding out either. But I guess I will have to. What a shame. It gets uglier as it comes closer. I could write a bunch of stupid philosophical blah blah on it. But I choose to spare this keyboard. And my own imagination. And your eyes. I always spare eyes. There's pretty they are. I am not so kind to ears though. I cut them off and add them to my own.
I think people are drifting away from me. Not the regular current, I mean. The ones I supposed would be kind of more solid. They's going off. Creeping away slowly. And I don't know how to stop them. Because they's moving so slow I cannot say they's moving at all. But I know they's on a course away from me. And I don't even know why. I am already lonely! Damn. I have to make some new best friends soon. First I will have to make some new friends though. Nah. This time I will take it the other way round. Because they's all going to go here and there after some time. No matter what way I start.
All the stupid English is from Mary Ann Evans and Richard Llewellyn. Good company on Jennyless days. In fact a whole month with no Jenny this. Drats. And double drats.
Two posts today. Of which, one was a desperate cry for an escape plan. Just deleted it. Now now. So much for uncomputerated. But the slow connection is a good repellent. It is 0300h right now. I am sleepy. But there's no reason to sleep. I am not sleepy. I am confused. I think. I don't know. I tried sleeping. I could only think of the fact that I was not asleep.
I have had time to review my old poetry. Gosh. I was so dumb. Gosh. Ten years down the line I will look back and say the same stuff. And there's wheels that turn you know. And we keep coming under them like little berries and stones. And then they keep rolling over us. And we's all some nutwhacks and doodledums and we keep going round that spiral. Spiralling into some great center in the middle of our noses. You know. Right between the nostrils.
Hm. There's other forms of discomfort at home. There's things that happen that you've been trying to get away from for as long as you can remember. And every time you is close to them you shudder out of disgust. There's the apple of your eye. There's much love. And there's worms over everything.
I miss writing poems. I cannot write anymore. I is drained I am. Damn him old harry. That damned crazy old fool old harry. I is troubled I am.
But I am happy. Because I am beginning to see the light. Um. There's an album by that name by the Acoustic Jazz Quartet. Wonderful stuff. I Recommend.
Wow. This post turned out way longer than I thought it would. And I will disappear for some time now. Unless fate throws such a night at me too soon.
I have a feeling I have overpunctuated this transience. Whatever ... ?;':!,." ?!? !?!
O ya. And (on insanely repetitive asking) my dad gave me this übercool rosary. It once belonged to some Tibetan Buddhist monkie. Yey! There's 108 beads in it.

An end. A beginning

I am leaving school today. This is my last blog as an undergraduate. After this I have to pack my computer. I am giving it to my baby brother. I shall be un-computer-ated hence forth. But I will stop by to write posts now and then. And maybe read and write a couple of mails. But don't count on it. You gotto call me!

To the many days that have come and gone. To the many nights. To chances and dreams and other ephemeral things. To the most ephemeral of them all.
The future.

Skypehoppin'

Yea. So. It's over. I am through college. Besides the legalities. Runarounds. Damn them. Now what?
Yestreen. Late late yestreen. I was randomskyping. And I randomed into this person. Sort of helped me with the question. O boy. I am so behind every other 21.9 year old in the universe. Whatever. At least I started. So yea. I am supposed to know what I want in life. I mean I don't see the point. But there's no point in not wanting anything either. So yea. The procedure's simple. You make a list of every damn thing you want to do. Sane things. Insane things. Impossible things. Unpossible things. The next step is to wear earplugs. This is crucial, especially for mediocrity-struck dreamers like this guy writing all this trash. Whatever. Mediocrity is a shitmyth word made up by astute social climbers who cannot appreciate stuff which is not written down in papers and reports and books. So yea. You wear earplugs. And you keep climbing the building, like deaf frogs. And don't listen to no one. Don't take no shit from no one. Just keep walking. And having fun. And all the while, an eye on your list. Again. One might wonder (as I still do) why the fuck do you even need that bugging list. It's distracting. But yea. What else will you do?! You know. Fly someplace? You won't even have the money to walk when papa stops pushing. Whatever. Yea. So. The best thing to do is keep walking. With a list and a walkman, or as in my case, with Jenny. Your nostrils full of oxygen. Your ears full of music.
Whew. I think I wrote that down as a quick reference for myself.
Whatever. It's just a beginners guide to obtaining direction you know. So yea. It's childish etc. But it's what I will be starting off with. And yea. Hurrah for Latvians with free advice!!

Funeral home, funeral home
Going to the funeral home
Got me a coffin shiny and black
I’m goin’ to the funeral and I’m never coming back
- Daniel Johnston

PS:
1. Don't take no shit from no one: An evening with Billy Joel
2. Late late yestreen: Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence!

To the only woman who ever mattered

Is the moon broom Kiki? Mushroom?
I was wandering meandering like a flautist in F in an orchestra of G and I got hit by this train. I wonder where in Lebanon? Black ribbons windblown Hi Hi!!

Mother. Many twenty years and one ago we were one. I was a seed straw-piping your blood. You didn't mind. You never mind blind to cancers. Your breath. Like the atmosphere. Moving. Breathing for all the earth.
But you know now. Now. The vampire is tired. The vampire wants to cut off his fangs thangs and lie down in his box. Wants to far float on green clouds. Some place there is no friend. Nor foe. A new identity. An old trade. Anonymous. But nun any sweat you. Still your blood running in. Running out. Of this stupid contraption. You made it. Look. It pulses. Whack O Whack O. What courage! Look. Floating in shit. Still. Whack O Whack O. What dogged determination. You put some of your Whack O in it while they weren't looking, didn't you? Now it jumps. How it jumps! That's far enough little Whack O. Look. Look!! What unending perseverance. As if it wants to break free. As if it wants to tear this bosom apart and run right back to you. Someday then. When I nun need it nunymore. I will wrap it in a white sheet. I shall wrap it. Just like you had done me. It shan't be easy to get rid of it. But I will do it. I must. So. I shall take it, and send it to the postmaster. The moon shall be full that day. And beside him Lucy. Strong as when she was when your feathers were not so grey. And when you see her there, you will know how brutal I was. And how sad for my lack of blood. But for now, I must. Just a little more. One drop of shining glistening red. Then no more. Then no more. I am ashamed.
Much embraces. Much gratitude.
Much loves darling.

When you move like a jellyfish

Just a little more now. Three steps, to be precise.
Druggies and Junkies. They represent us. They beat us. Time after time. Us. Non fliers. We are the bedrock, on which barbiturate must build its strong and cruel empire. While we lay down our souls to Jenny. In white. And we lay down our flesh to Mephistopheles. In black, not red.
Yeah. So there's this exam tomorrow. Lots to study still. I think it's going to be a long night. I hate such nights. And it's a beautiful cool breeze outside too. After a 42C day!

Walk. Keep walking. The road don't end. Nowhere. Keep walking.
Alone?
Alone.
If the road don't end why don't we just call it a day and camp right here?
We aren't sure the road never ends.
But you just said ...
I am the voice in your head. I lie habitually. Now walk.
But why?
Bubbly toes did too.
Ok.

It's as simple as something that nobody knows that
Her eyes are as big as her bubbly toes
On the feet of the queen of the hearts of the cards
And her feet are infested with tar balls and scars
- 'Bubbly toes', Jack Johnson

.

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.