“How does it feel like, to let fovever be?
How does it feel like, to spend a little lifetime sitting in the gutter?
Scream a symphony..”
Let Forever be – Chemical Brothers
Dim lights over a subtle blue and a soft rhythm o’er and above the horiz0n have something between them that makes right now pretty much unexpressable through efforts in their entirety. When your lids hover and waves bounce off your sides..
And everything stops dead. Falls in its place, so that you feel like you’ve just taken a ride on a flying lift to above the clouds and nothing more than you want matters. And that which does matter can be tucked tight inside your cranium, only to let it turn into everything without anyone else having to know of or about anything. And you could fall in your place with the safe knowledge that everythings cherry pink on bone-china plates.
And you rise instead to a place where heady ditties resound in your head. Every time you’ve ever smiled amalgamates into one big bag of helium within your being.
And if the music were turned off, your ears would ring and beep like a shivering halo for the oblivious fraction of an eternity.
With the rest of it spent in precious brushes, warm locks and sweetness.
And everything stops dead. Falls in its place..
(Archive Alert! Written earlier! Have no idea what it was still doing in my drafts since April. Presenting…)
*****
Wooz-a-Wayn-a-Wayn-Ooo! Wooz-a-Wayn-a-Wayn-Ooo! Wooz-a-Wayn-a-Wayn-Ooo! Where can I score some peace of mind? This stuff isn’t working anymore. And I can’t see well enough to put all this together…
Its all a daze I tells you! A blur, all of it fast~forwarded right around me. I can’t remember clearly the events and their exact sequence in the past few days, except where it comes back to me when someone tells me about it all or when there’s someone inside my head leading me through some sugar coated experiences.
I’m probably really wobbly and my eyes must be real glazed. I see through water and walk at someone else’s expense. Its not really me walking back through the now sunlit streets, its my ghost. Its a realisation thats really hit me more than I need it to, but I always know its true, when I find myself already home when I reach there. And I’ve been sitting there all along.
Glowing orange patches on the empty roads through fake cardboard streets, carefully designed so that you feel trapped within its dead-ends and walls. The fish around me, always just far enough to touch, but right there in the darkness by our path, swimming to-and-fro, but never really leaving us.
Then there’s the occasional wind in our hair and the coolness on our faces, while we stand and watch all that passes us. And weaving swirls of smoke travel with the wind. Puff. Puff. Puff. And it keeps us going. Somehow.
Never really asleep, nor awake through the daily grind. Don’t really care about anything. Do you remember me before this all was supposed to be?
I really need to get some sleep, if only I could get some.
Or maybe someone needs to slap me in the face till I wake up…
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: blue, direction, hitchhike, lost, roam, sky
Look up. Look up at the blue.
Its blue. Really blue.
As in a empty blue. A lot of blue. A big blue spread out above your being. A bright, yet deep blue. A hollow blue. A vast blue. An illuminated blue.
Altogether, a really big Blue.
No white streaks. No gray streaks. No yellow circles.
Just blue.
Follow it to its edges and it fades off to a paler blue. Follow it further, and you reach the collective depression of millions dead.
The blue beckons. It promises. It draws. It blankets. It saves. Its suddenly all there is.
The blue empties.
And it stays blue.
Keep looking and there’s suddenly a streak originated from a corner. And a shiny white Airplane flying over you. It flies. It leaves the streak. It flies in a direction and onwards. Its pointing, and you can see the direction.
The direction is always the same. Outside. The blue always points outwards. And thats it.
Thats it because outside is not the right direction. The direction seems lost. It was there before, but then it went away. By itself.
Now the direction just seems hidden within the blue. Within the nothingness that exists overhead.
And then there it is. Among the scattered paths of the sparrows…
#
Look up. Look up at the blue.
Its vast enough.
Scattered. Haphazard. And Random.
Rove. Stray. And Dissapear.
And the blue shall always be up above.
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: , bear, creed, culture, desire, evolution, god, jackson, micheal, nature, pedophile, pop, popstar, scotty, stapp, want, world
Many a theorists across the Commercial Machine have pointed out that God, in all his mighty actions, has left us wanting. And that is why we must provide for ourselves. That that is the reason why
we must develop further and make our existence self sufficient. Many a theorists have told us that we must develop to satisfy our wants and to survive. With a margin.
Our own theorists in my head argue, and very violently so, that developement, which arises from want in the first place, only breeds either of more want, contempt or the pop culture, each of which is worse than the next.
Now unfortunately, the theorists of your world do not see eye to eye with those in my parallel universe, my head. Infact, they barely see each other at all. I cannot, infact, recall the last time I saw them socializing at any public and/or private event.
This could lead to only one logical conclusion, which is that Scotty (Stapp) doesn’t know! He does not know anything. As doesn’t George W. Bush and as didn’t Sid Vicous. This, and the fact that your world is probably plagued by want and obsessed with developement, means that your world is also very competitive, Big-Fish-Eat-Small-Fish, polluted, pop-star infested and heading towards completely ridding itself of its natural resources, which is a task it has been employing itself very dedicatedly for a long long time.
At this point we’d like you to take a break from whatever you are doing and think. Think. Think hard. Think VERY hard. Think about whether the creator up above really intended for us to really want and develop. Think about whether or not he provided us with everything we might possibly need. Think whether all the developement (or most of it anyway) could be done without. Think about whether Creed are a bad band. Think about why you listen to them anyway.
Nothing in nature is left wanting. Nature is God’s realm. Nature is supposed to be untouched by the wanting mind’s of the humans. Nature is touched by wanting minds of bio-scientists, as are a lot of children by wanting minds of pop-stars.
Nature is a perfect example of the fact that God didn’t leave anything wanting. A perfect example that God meant for us to only have wants so as to fulfill our basic needs. A perfect example that he provided for fulfilling the basic needs. A perfect example that Micheal Jackson should’ve never ‘touched’ those children.
Consider this. Big Bear feels hungry. Big Bear does not feel contempt. Big Bear does not feel jealousy. Big Bear does not feel desire. Big Bear does not litsen to Creed. Big Bear only feels hungry.
So, Big Bear goes to the river side and hunts down a Small Rabbit or plucks out a Puny Fish and eats it. Big Bear does not develop a candy vending machine. Big Bear does not develop a food processing plant. Big Bear does not establish tinned foods. Big Bear does not invent the nuclear warhead. Big Bear does not touch children. And Big Bear still doesn’t litsen to Creed. Big Bear eats Small Rabbit or Puny Fish.
Some theorists from the reader’s world, unless the reader relates to Ire, would argue that this is so because Big Bear couldn’t possibly do any of that since Big Bear is after all a big bear and an animal. But that would be plain silly and that would prove wrong the theory of evolution, which is a theory widely regarded as very intelligent by those very theorists. The fact is, God provided for fulfilling the basic needs of all his subjects and all existense. This being so, had you realised this before, the world wouldn’t be where it is, which would’ve been a good thing. You would be a mindless ape fulfilling only those carnal desires which fulfill your basic needs and then retiring to nature and its giving arms. And so would Scotty Stapp.
Another terrific example that showcases how God did not wish for us to be wanting is the fact that none else than man feels jealousy and desire to ape and compete.
For example, if a lit match stick were to reach the underbelly of a car at a busy urban crossing, the car would torch and explode. Other cars and such creature’s would feel jealous and wish to be in the same state as that of the exploding car. And with a defiant look, these other creatures would also explode and so on so forth, untill most of a continent’s vehicular populace is not ablaze and reduced to waste metal. The larger creatures would then feel jealous and would proceed to explode. Buildings, Ships, Airplanes, Towers and the like would get reduced to trash. Creed would actually gain originality in their music. And Micheal Jackson would go touching grown men for a change.
This is, ofcourse, not the way things are, except ofcourse Micheal Jackson, of whose tendency to touch everything we are highly sceptical about. This would not only make the world very unreasonable, but would make torching a car impossible without destroying half of modern civilization. Cheerio’s! And don’t WANT! Stand up against unnecessary and/or detrimental development.
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: dominate, home, hostel, ragging, seniors, sick
Its like being locked up. Locked up. Within walls. Strange walls. Confined. Surrounded by. Locked up within. Locked up. Most of the time.
Other times, its like flying, not only because of the high’s, but its like flying. Flying. Soaring. Free. Without any foreseeable boundaries. Flying.
It seems strange at times that this is what my life has become. This is where I have landed up. This is how I’m spending my life. These are whom I relate to. Who I know. Who I trust.
At other times, those exact things make me feel better. Good. High. Confident. Free. Soaring. Better. And that is probably why I’m hostel sick now.
Walking empty corridors at night, watching stairs curve and stretch, watching walls incline, watching the floor wind up and down, watching the doors swirl, walking the corridors at night. Sometimes alone. Sometimes together. Alone, but never lonely. And that is probably why I’m hostel sick now.
That is what you’d expect me to say, had this entity been in the reader’s universe, but, that is not the case. This entity is infact in a parallel universe on the probability matrix.
Over here, we’d rather say things like Its like a big pile of shit where the hovering Fly’s have nothing better to do than to peek at the Dungbeetles who can’t fly… as yet. Yes, in this amazing wonderland, Dungbeetle’s soon warp into the loathed Fly’s and then hover aimlessly and peek at the newer Dungbeetles who replace them.
The Dungbeetle’s are the one’s who break off pieces of dung from neighbouring dung piles and add them to their own pile of shit so that the Fly’s can feed off the newer dung and be happy. Its all about pleasing the Flies.
The Dungbeetles have big, watery, hopeful eyes. Eyes that want to shove over the dung and feed it to the Flies. In an attempt to make the Flies happy. To be accepted.
The Flies have narrow, beady eyes, unlike the round plastic eyes that flies usually have, and more often than not, fail to see the Dungbeetle shoving in the new dung. Eyes that live for consumption. Eyes that are never really satisfied. Eyes that flog Dungbeetles anyways.
The Dungbeetles do, eventually, realise this and at such a point only shove dung to get their term over with and to become Flies as hastily as possible. Yes, the Flies are loathed. But being a Fly is much sought after.
This particular tribe of Dungbeetles that this entity lives within, is not very special. To the Flies anyways. Nor to the vast array of dungpiles that exist unseemingly. But they are special to each other. To the dung that they shove. And to this entity.
This entity has been a Dungbeetle most of his life, under various other Flies. Sometimes knowing it, yet without acknowledging it. Sometimes knowing it, and acknowledging it. Sometimes without knowing it at all. Mostly ignoring it. Flies are nothing new. This entity knows it all too well.
His new found tribe, however, are.
And that is probably why I’m hostel sick now.
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: , bush, day, dooms, george, god, heathen, humanity, man, mankind, moslem, muslim, president, usa
So at the end of the day, when good comes to bad and bad comes to good, its all really good. It all really depends on who needs whom MORE! It might be a very obvious thing, but its true. If the world were to end today leaving God’s Man G.W. Bush alone with a bunch of Moslem druggies, he will utilise them. He will never stand up against them nor leave them to go build a Better Future for himself and that which was the U.S.A. . He will be nice to them and he definetly will give in to their demands, even if they are as demeaning as dancing to the tune of some heathen instrument and congo drums while singing ‘I’m a little sissy girl with pig-tails’ to the tune of the U.S.A. national anthem, nothing against the U.S.A. Nothing against G.W. Bush either. And ESPECIALLY nothing against Moslem Druggie dudes.
But in such a situation, the Moslem druggie dudes might chuck out good ol’ G.W. or make fun of him or even desert him, as they be many, and well, Bush be alone. Apart from that, on the occasion of the end of the world, there aren’t many skills that G.W. Bush portrays that might be useful to anyone, especially to Moslem druggie dudes.
Even though the idea of Bush being picked on by Moslem druggie dude might be useful as a moderate source of entertainment to some and a source of substantial blind anger for others, the afore mentioned situation teaches us that its always Many over Few. Not good over evil, not cool over sucks, just many over few. Its the classic rule of survival amongst equals. The balance of public standing. It also goes to show that G.W. Bush might not do very well interacting with a bunch of Moslem Hippies, not ONLY because of his accent.
So, if in the end it IS all going to come down to this one basic fact, then why not think of the future? I mean, isn’t all that man has done till now based on thinking about The End? Then why not put an end to all differences and concentrate on what is important.
The fact that we’re all humans and the possibility that one day YOU might be stuck alone with a bunch of Moslem Druggies post dooms day. Peace to Mankind. (The Wrestler…)
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: bowcaster, britain, chewbacca, dilemna, drugs, hangover, humor, Jedi Council, Kenobi, life, NRA, Obi, scooby doo, star wars, Wan, Yoda
The Ghost of Finnyan MacDuff from Scooby-doo episode A “Highland Fling with a Monstrous Thing” taught me one very important thing. If you’re going to be a scheming ghost, wearing a kilt and playing the bag pipes might not be such a good idea, as would be wearing a Chewbacca costume. Yes, that’s right, Chewbacca. The brown furry dude from Star Wars.
Now, Chewbacca lives on the planet Kashyyyk, which is also home to Tarfull who looks deceptively similar to Chewbacca, but is NOT a beer guzzling chick magnet. Tarfull is a Wookie General. Chewbacca, however, is the First Mate of the Millenium Falcon! However, Chewbacca worked as an orderly at London’s King’s College Hospital. And inbetween the two, he also featured in Sinbad and The Eye of the Tiger.
However, Chewbacca featured regularly in Star Wars Episode III to VI. This lone fact is enough to tell us that that Chewbacca was an expert at using that favourite traditional Wookie weapon, the Bowcaster, which is similar to the average human Crossbow, only the Bowcaster launches “quarrels”, which are energized crossbow bolts. The quarrels are surrounded by an energy cocoon while in flight, which gives them the appearance of extra-long blaster bolts. The cocoon gives them an extremely high stopping power. Wookiees can load their Bowcasters with both standard and explosive tipped quarrels, and the bandolier across Chewbacca’s chest holds both. The spring that powers the Bowcaster is extremely hard to pull back, and humans are generally incapable of cocking a Bowcaster. However, modern bowcasters seem to have an automatic cocking system, allowing any species to use them. This came as a huge relief to the American NRA, who are now importing Bowcasters by the hundreds from the planet Kashyyyk.
Which would bring us to the gloom that is present on this side of Wookie land. Indeed, hangover’s can be a beautiful thing. Only if they don’t get you down. Sometimes, ofcourse, they can go a step further and end up putting one in a major dilemna such as picking the better of two ciggerette lighters, a silver one with Napolean and his trusty horse on it or a golden one with a lady in a one-piece and tentacles sticking out of her back.
Then there’s the strangER situations where you feel you’ve had enough of flying. Walking around with one’s finger down one’s throat while informing friendly passerby’s of the fact that you’re in severe dilemna after discovering your extreme inability to vomit. This can, ofcourse, also provide one with unending entertainement.
The fact that sometimes people say something that you can completely not comprehend nor decipher doesn’t help much either. One never fails to wonder as to what and why someone said something before forgetting what had been said. It is ofcourse much worse when one cannot forget that which has been said…
Apart from all the above, pending plans and things-to-do get on top of you very easily. Its actually lethargy, because I am doing something or the other all the time. It might, my mind is begining to realise, be unchannelised energy. Must stop using!!!
And that is how Chewbacca met Obi-Wan-Kenobi onboard the Millenium Falcon while playing the dozens with dare devil Han Solo, who ofcourse, is a white man and cannot jump. White men can also not speak Shyriiwook, the local dialect of Kashyyyk, which is a shame. Because if they could, then the Wookie would most obviously have fought on the side of the Galactic Republic, which they did anyhows. This goes to tell us in clear simple words that Order 66 was initiated during this generalised period where the clone troopers attempted to kill Yoda, who was sent by the Jedi Council to prevent Kashyyyk from falling to the Separatists, but the clones failed to kill the Jedi master, and he later escaped with the help from his friend and prominent wookiee, Chewbacca who went on to become something of an action figure and a prominent MP.
And what has any of this got to do with either of the number 13, my life and the British Vice-Roy stationed on the planet Alderaan?
Absolutely nothing.
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: apocalypse, cock, dealer, dooms day, drugs, end of the world, humor, judgement day, kfc, lawyers, marijuana, police, punjab, teddy bear
Walking down to your dealer can be pretty painful and especially so if your dealer lives on top of a snow covered peak which can only be scaled with proper mountaneering equiptment, and the said mountain being surrounded by balls of fire and shards of glass with a hundred thousand vultures waiting for those wolves to turn you into Midday-Bone-and-Blood-Casserole-Surprise. It can, ofcourse, get worse if your dealer lives a distance of a 10 buck round trip away from you with a couple of Punjab Police Corporals standing randomly in your route.
This being so not because of the negligible amount of efficiency in the pits of the wonderful organisation that is the Punjab Police, but because watching two obese, diabetic, drunk individuals standing in the sun scratching their groins can be a very tedious task.
So with this as the backdrop, leaving aside the beers, for another thought provoking ponderous conversation, we set off for where our dearest dealer resides. An ice-cream, randomly purchased from a random surdo at a random nookie on a random road, caused my head to dive into a random reflex action towards a fireball in my ear, which as we all know is the first sign of the lurking cock-on-your-lips. Yes. Thats right, judgement day. Or, as the cynics would prefer it, DOOMS DAY!
Do not, however, panic, for we did live to see further adventures. This particular fireball in my ear just happened to be nothing more than nothing. To clear things up, a figment of the paranoia in my semi-intoxicated void. However, this did spark the fire for us discussing the actual coming of the lurking A-Cock-On-Your-Lips!
At this point, I would like to remind our readers of the widely accepted and world acclaimed Fireball-In-The-Ear A-Cock-On-Your-Lips theory. This theory was told to me by a Calm Voice in my head on some random night of heavy intoxication. And ever since, has persisted.
The human body is equiped with a lot of defences to repel a lot of different predators and dangers. If, say tommorow, tiny fireballs, the size of our ear cavity, were to start falling out of the clouds, which would obviously be red or purple, according to scientific experiments conducted by yours truly, and which would also not be a valid source for teddy bear cotton anymore, the human body would render repair to all slight harms caused to almost any part of the human body. Infact, to all parts except one. The ear-cavity! If a fireball were to enter your ear, it would have a direct access to the brain and whatever it is that is inside our heads, scientists are still trying to figure out what exactly lies inside our heads, but are still dumbfounded. Hence, our only warning of A-Cock-On-Your-Lips would be :
- The clouds turning either red or purple, depending on the atmospheric content of mobile phones with 3mpx camera’s and a flash.
- A need to find a new source for teddybear cotton.
- Little balls of fire falling from the sky, aimed straight for people’s ear cavities.
- A reeking smell of the combined body of do-gooders in the world; And
- A very urgent need to find a new source for teddybear cotton.
It is, hence, very clear from the above that unless we sacrifice a large number of stingy old school teachers, we would lose all future potential teddybears in this world and there would be a very big Cock-On-Your-Lips.
And if, god forbid, the A-Cock-On-Your-Lips-God is still not pleased by such a valiant sacrifice as the once described above, the inevitable Cock-On-Your-Lips would arrive. This would be a good time for all cynics, sinners, cats and doctors to start praying. Tax lawyers are , ofcourse, exempted from the Cock-On-Your-Lips. Other lawyers, however, may start filing more cases at such an event so as to keep the judicial system living and free of danger from the Cock-On-Your-Lips. All virgins may make an immediate conversion to serial rapists and all prison inmates would prefer dry humping Mick Jagger. People who are still on their way to their dealers should hurry up and the dealers, in turn, should run away to the afore mentioned mountain with its trims and toppings.
And so would the world end peacefully. And so would the world end, leaving behind only Tax Lawyers and ladies wearing excessive mascara. And so the world would end in a parallel universe. And so the world would NOT end in another parallel universe on the probability matrix. And so the world would end a second later on the time matrix. And so the world would end without hippies. And so the world would end with chaos. And so the world would end with a fire ball in your ear. And so the world would end with Spiderman still a virgin. And so the world would end at KFC. And so the world would end without a nuclear war. And so the world would end with a frog humping Stacy Keibler. And so the world would end in a blur.
And so the world would end with A-Cock-On-Your-Lips.
R.I.P.
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: alcoholic, cannabis, classic rock, drug smuggling, drugs, government, humor, marijuana, nofx, responsible drug use, thoughts
“You’re wrong about drug use, when its not abuse
I hope you never reproduce”
– ‘You’re Wrong’, NOFX
Filed under: I've been thinking... | Tags: call centers, disclaimer, europe, humor, india, indian, kfc, ladies, naked, offices, slave, study, working conditions
Before I start writing out this load of trash, I would like to add a small disclaimer. This is the space where most authors go about disclaiming their wives and illegitimate children apart from the non-fictional nature of their trash. I am, in comparision, putting forth a very slight disclaimer which is this; This article, following suit with previous articles, is based on unfounded, shaky and unverified facts which have arisen in the due course of mildew gossip AFTER 2 pegs of a sublime golden liquid at around 3 in the afternoon.
Right. With that done, I can safely venture to writing some meaningless words.
A recent study by some obviously wealthy European foundation, supposedly some university, has shown that Indians increase their work performance if they are given suitable working environments, as compared to the actual Indian scenario where, supposedly, employees are made to work in the blistering heat.
To this wonderous conclusion the researchers might have also added that they also thought that Indian’s flogged their employees with a black horse-leather whip while spraying them with mustard oil while a helper uses tweezers to pull out hair from the vicinity of the genitila.
They were, understandably, disturbed by the facts that had arisen through their subconciously aroused subconcious and ‘just can’t understand why Indians don’t offer their employees with favourable working conditions and some air conditioning.’
Our own researchers are now trying to find out how the Europeans measure performance of emplyees and the subsequent increases. They have developed a 3ocm scale, but it doesn’t work when put to the test in the test subjects anal cavity.
They are also researching just how average must a European be to be able to figure out that ANY one will increase their output if they are given a lavishly cushioned loveseat in range of an air conditioner and an order-all-you-like free emergency telephone line that goes straight to the bowels of KFC.
Except ofcourse those who are not averse to some sleep, free food and basically lazying around.
Our researchers are not too happy with the results which are gradually coming out from the last test, which basically point to the fact that a European need not be average at all. Europeans in mental health institutes could speedily decipher the answer to these very complex puzzles.
There are ofcourse the rich party poppers driving around in BIG cars who cannot conclude anything. Because they stay in air conditioning all the time but mostly because most of them were drunk.
Then there are the Maxim models who thought that all anyone needed was some semi-naked ladies as co-workers. This, ofcourse, after they were paid for it.
This then leads us to conclude that there should be air conditioning, free KFC food, couches and paid semi-naked ladies in every institute dedicated to improving the general working capacity of its employees.
Somehow, the Europeans are not making much sense.
If you REALLY want to give your workers all those things, why in the office? I mean, why just stop at the office. Send ’em over home too!
Yessir. I definetly see some major improvements taking place in all offices around India. Thank you gora!
Over The Grass... 