Viccissitudes of a certain Velcro

Awesome Skulduggery

2009-10-13T00:02:00.000-07:00

To all those girls who think I have a bloody crush on them. The bossy, possessive guy from Texas says "HI".

To all friends back home who listen to one side of the story, who have easy access to talk and bitch and never give a shit about listening to the other side of the story, HI to you guys too. The birthday video was so terrible, I had tears in my eyes as it came to an end. I cunt believe it. Yes, I seriously cunt believe it.

Also, to really wonderful friends I have, those of you with your superficial smiles and your fake ego boost ups, thanks a lot its been one year in the US with your obnoxious memories.

I also want to thank a special friend who sent me a Rakhi and said she made it with her hand. You should've told me you had bought it from the market and not 'joked' about making it with your hands because I was fighting with my roomies here for putting an armpit deodrant stick very close to where I had put the carefully defended and untouched Rakhi. Also, thanks a lot for bitching about me. Yes please go over the city telling people I have a crush on your best friend and I am quite possessive and jealous about her new boyfriend while she discusses this on her fanmail forum.

I am the same guy everywhere. Geography doesn't change me. Perspective doesn't change me. I've always been snobby and I've always tried to rub my decisions over people who I think are close to me. I am same. I don't call 'special' people just because I am away from Kingsville. When I am with my brother I am horribly bored, because he leaves me at home and leaves for work. So I have nothing better to do except call people who are horrible enough to bear my boredom.

And the flowers, were PINK. Pink stands for friendship. :) Just like that smiley. I thought you could figure it out with all those pathetic Bollywood movies you watch.

the hyperactive nightmare dream is back.

Thank you all. I've seen worse here. I've endured more pain and mental trauma than horribly recorded abusive videos that show no signs of affection instead put anonymous people crying about how awful they look in front of the cam and ask them to put it away. There has been a great deal of misunderstandings and miscommunication in my life. All of them directly excluded me and my side of the story ala conversation and just had their own versions and crappy cover songs with bad acoustics to add to their pathetic excuse for gossip. So this is not new to me. What is new to me though, are my own antics. How I let these things bother me. Wither my will not to blog about my life instead of writing something meaningful. But I guess I won't change. If I have to take up a pen, then it must only be in angst and in contemplation or self defense like this one. What ecstasy this holds though, is that as soon as I blog about it, I'm over it. Its like my mental abyss where I throw things into and can live with the fact that I will never have to face it again.

Ahem. Ahem (Louder and clearer this time). So, now that I'm done with the child in me play with my blog for a long time, let me write a decent, meaningful blog. Don't remember the last time I did that. So I don't think its going to be all fun and humor. Its going to concise. Oh come on. Let's face it. I'm not in the mood right now. So I will just let it pass.

But I do have some good news. All suckers of Lapaki are in for a great treat. I've just recently got in touch with that bastard who is upto no good and having a dialog with him is ever more complicated. I'm willing to put it up on my blog, this one and this one only. The other one is in too much public eye. This one is not. This one is like my teddy bear, I don't want people to see it and think I'm gay to have turned 23 and still play with it.

So, Lapaki is going to be back. He WILL kickass. He will perform feats of the likes of Chuck Norris. He will be a great show stealer. Its exactly going to be like old times. Classic.

Till then, to people who call me a friend and can't bear with me, to girls who think I'm 'possessive', 'definitely can't make his mind up', 'really must be liking me', 'or wait, does he?', 'but its ok I can still bitch about him because I am not yet over him and really because my best friend values my word more than his and is a big dumb bitch herself' and 'once in a while its ok to be influenced by others' opinions', so long. Happy gossiping, happy assuming, happy self loathing topped with inferior and pscyho like behavioral tendencies. This one doesn't give a shit. Or wait, do I? Do you wish I give a shit about you or not? Go figure.

Girl you gotta love your man

2008-06-25T01:42:00.000-07:00

Originally Posted on: Thursday, Oct 30, 2007.

Riders on the storm...
Riders on the storm...
Now what on the globally warm earth could that mean? I liked Jim but man was he talking crap. How can one ride a storm? A storm is nature's way of destructing the poor and letting the rich live(Atleast in India, nature has a different set of rules, tenets and taboos). So, as a teetotaller I wondered. I loved classic rock but some songs really made no sense. Heard Kurt Cobain shout in his song?

"Waa denial....a denial....a denial...a denial..."
I don't know what he meant by that but his song was no denial to anybody. It was in fact, an anthem of a generation to the drug abused, boiling libido teenage. Err, did I get it wrong? Yeah, it still is an anthem of a song. Talk about paradoxes.

Ok by this time you might be thinking that I'm going nowhere with this post. But as Jim keeps singing in my head with his soothing voice.. "Riders on the storm"... I realise now, morning after, what it means. Believe me, I might not know anything else in this world but I know this. I so know this.

Ever heard of Gandipet? This huge lake on the south side of the city? You should be there every winter evening. The sky has this subtle mix of scralet and purple. As the sun keeps setting, the scarlet keeps fading into a deep and sometimes deeper purple. Now I never gave a damn about purple as a color. I never thought about it. Although a female friend of mine said I looked gay when I wore purple, after which I stopped talking to her, I never gave a serious thought to it. Last evening, I had no clue of what I was about to do in the next 5 hours. In the end, I'm not guilty.

Now why would I talk about all this? Why? Dood! Dont doze off...please... I'm trying to narrate, the story of an underdog, when he realises he is one and feels bad not for the fact that he is one but for the fact that he didn't realise it earlier.

When men in India feel bad, especially alcohol abstainers, they either get depressed or eventually kill themselves. Others, just feed on the wonderful drinks and forget that they've lost whatever they've lost.

I love the rains. For me they're like ice creams. Anytime of the day, I would have it. Rain for me symbolises the nature's support. For others, its a stranded way of life, but for me, its like the Phoneix's tears. Life reviving and revamping. October end, suggested the advent of winter. But yesterday, the sky was simply amazing. Just the sight of thick clouds covering the entire sky was a sign that something nice was going to happen to me. It did.

Last evening I realised that whoever said "Friends, fag and booze is the best combination ever" wasn't kiddin around but he was a man after my own intellect and someone who would give Einstein a complex on the IQ test-o-meter. On the rocks! I tell you, try it out. Whatever oath you're breaking, break it on the rocks. Whatever confessions you're having, shout them out at the top of your voice, on the rocks. Call, text or pray for your loved ones, on the rocks. Rocks give you strength because they've been enduring a bit too much in the past say 10,00,000 years now? Yeah. Thats right.

I personally love the rocks. So much that I'd prefer to get married on them. Naked feet.

Last evening, my teetotallism or whatever came to an end and although I'm not proud of it, I'm surely not guilty about it. I got high. It was not much different though. It was like one of those hectic days when I was enervated but a bit more like I had a time delay and time leakage. Like, I would get everything after one or two seconds and sometims, 4-5 seconds would slip and I wouldn't know what happened meanwhile. It was good though.

I leaned on the rocks and looked at the sky. The scarlet was more dark this time. Because of unseasonal rains I guess. But whatever baap. I liked it. I realised so many things yesterday. So many things. It was like there was a surge of intellect in me. A family of positive thoughts fought my inhibitions in my head. I was unwonted to this but the surge left me feeling great about myself.

Where does Jim Morrison come here? You may ask me.

I had to go back home. I wanted to ride. It was after a long time I wanted to ride someone else's bike. Captain Lee was hurt. So he wasn't with me. And I needed to ride it. I let my short hair loose and stepped on the pedal (the gear pedal) and revved through the lake side. Cold, cold wind blew hard into my face along with drops of water. The digital speedometer was touching the three digit number. Adrenaline was rushing into my veins and it felt like my intelligence reached the acme, with the time delay and time leakages still profound. I thought about the turn of events in my life. How the friends I thought to be my best friends were just ephemeral bondings, how life is transient and how allegations were thrown about me and how I couldn't do anything about it. A bad bump on the road brought me back to reality and I realised that almost 10 minutes of my time had leaked without my knowledge.

I saw the sky. As purple as purple could possibly get. 30 seconds from then, it would fade into the night. I suddenly hated the purple. And felt compassionate towards it the next moment. the worst was yet to come. The tachometer was at its max. There was too much speed and it started raining heavily. Soon, within a small time delay of 10 seconds, a storm gathered. It was very huge storm. Water and water everywhere. Clogged roads. I couldn't see anything.

Suddenly, everything went numb. Numb as it could get. Something at the back of my head. I was enduring a pain I couldn't feel. I was riding in a storm and I had no clue how it was remotely possoble. But I was driving. That was for sure. It wasn't a dream because I knew how to diffrentiate between dreams and reality. The noise at the back of my head was increasing. Out of the blue or should I say purple, a lightning struck the road half a kilometre from my bike. Then, the noise at the back of my head materialised into a voice I knew very well.

Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house were born
Into this world were thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan
Riders on the storm

There is a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet memory will die
Killer on the road, yeah

"God forbid!", I shouted. I finally knew what Jim meant when he sang that song.

A night I won't forget for the rest of my life.

I thought about her.

Girl ya gotta love your man
Girl ya gotta love your man
Take him by the hand
Make him understand
The world on you depends
Our life will never end
Gotta love your man, yeah.

12 comments:

darthvader said...

hahahahaha....u should get drunk more often my friend....but might i advice u against riding ur bike when tht be the case, would be a sad funeral song u see...

10:44 PM

Anonymous said...

you are truly an amazing writer....you have the gift of being able to transform your visions into something so beautiful that it moves me... i was so engrossed in your post that at the end of it i realised i had sprouted goosebumps......just don't ever drink and drive...cos it would be a real waste of great talent

11:32 PM

Velcro said...

@DV
Dead riders on the storm!! ROFL!! Cheers man thanks a lot!

@Anonymous
great talent wouldn't go wasted. Jim Morrison is the perfect example. His posthumous fame speaks a lot about him.
This is the story of an underdog. he drinks and drives. He is supposed to do that. Its hard to abstain him from that. He wouldn't be an underdog otherwise. Would he?

12:16 AM

Anonymous said...

it's not just your own life you risk when you drink and drive..... an underdog isn't a stupid perosn...he is someone who uses his wit to overcome all the prejudices against him.....so i don't really agree that an underdog should drink and drive... just my opinion

12:52 AM

Velcro said...

an underdog isn't a stupid person... the society makes him one... probably you wouldn't know that because you might not have been remotely close to it...your definition of an underdog is wrong...

smoking is also a hazard and in this globally warm world even driving is hazardous, not to u but to others... so drinking and driving comes under it... its hard for a smoker to stop smoking or a rider to stop riding becasue others lives are in danger...

1:06 AM

anirudh said...

cool man... i always liked ur blogs and this one tho i could connect it to myself.. "Riders on the storm.." is the song always goes in my mind when i blaze on the roads.
And "You'll Be Under My Wheels..." is the song when i drive someone elses car.. hehe.. my dad owns a fiat, so can't think of such things in my ride.

7:03 AM

Dark Angel said...

well written.. but whatever ! drinkin n drivin dont mix...

10:09 AM

Creative Shocker said...

eons ago i used to know a guy called 'shiv kartik'... he was cheerful n full of life... he cribbed life was a bitch but always 'lived it on da edge'. He nevr bothered about problems n told me jokingly that 'problems made him laugh'...he was anonymous no more.

cut back to present...shiv kartik is now shiva aditya..da guy who had to booze/fag cos he wanted a high... escape from the problems of bein an underdog... he thot those two things from which he had abstained himself from was just a self made oath...so he says wat da heck lets do it.... Problems don't make him laugh anymore... he's sick of problems cos he's da only guy havin them..he doesn't care wat happens to his life... after all it's 'one life.....wreck it!' ...

6:36 PM

Varun said...

macha! the post is neat...got some really its-so-random kinda things but later you made it this-is-what-i-had-to-say kinda thing...i love this mate!

4:52 AM

bunny said...

the post was as simple as it is but equally profound.life of an underdog
indeed

9:41 PM

Aditi aka Jiggs said...

LOLZZ
NICE READ
cheers

10:14 AM

raul said...

such songs are fruits of reality..he who wrote it..dint just write it..
hail the lizard king!!

8:05 AM

Me and Captain Lee

2008-06-25T01:27:00.000-07:00

Originally posted on: Mar 15, 2007

Life, like Rhyme said, can be a verb. ACT TO MAKE IT YOURS. Captain Lee believed in the same. For him, life was action and inaction was sleep. It was 6 in the morning and I was slogging my way out of the bed. Because that morning, I had to, at any cost, take a break from my normal, joy-shrunken, happiness gaunt, pissed off routine of going to college, trying to live-it-out, have fun and spread Harsha-awareness. And if you were me, an adventure-seeking soul, the perfect break would come in the form of a trek to the nearest rocks. I climbed down the stairs with leather gloves, shoes and my fav pair of rugged jeans. Captain Lee didn’t take notice. He never did. He always gave me company, wherever I went without a grumble. That was him. Then, Me and Captain Lee rode our way into the rocks.

Time was ripe. I was feeling a bit low in general. I was cribbing within myself. It was that time of my life when I realized that I was feeling bad about my personality as a whole. I was seeking sympathy from friends. I felt ignored, left out and sad. Life seemed weary (adj.). I felt that the work that I did was not well appreciated. A few of my close friends liked everything that I did. A certain Rogue, who was suffering a modern age chronic relationship breakdown, got me out through a lot of crap. Others sent me relatively huge hugs and expressed their emotions in the form of Yahoo Emoticons. Excepting them, neither the faculty, nor the students of my class (non-locals as well as locals-who-behaved-non-local alike) felt that the work I did was considerable in anyway. In fact, some of them even accused me of scamming money while a few others stole the acclaim for my works. Damn these poster boys! But there was no use feeling bad now. People have the right to steal until you are dumb enough to let them steal. I forgave them (like I had a choice) and a bad bump on the road brought me back.

As the cold wind blew into my hair and frolicked with it, I tried concentrating on the drive. We went deep down into the Nanakramguda area where vegetation, on the name of development, was being ripped off. Behind the corporate edifices of the developing city, lied the little known best stretch of rocks. Captain Lee was here for the first time. I could feel him groan as he saw the badly laid path to the rocks. I thought it was better if he stayed back, I already troubled him enough. I made him rest near the foothills and I started my rock-walk. I slowly jogged my way to the loftiest mountain (rock) of the quarry.

When I reached uphill, I looked down at the foothills and saw Captain Lee look at me wearily. His body language was so afro-type, relaxed and chilled. Rap star. Unlike me. I loved him and so did my brother. My bro had a very bad hangover before he left to the U.S. Captain Lee was of a great concern to him. He told me a 1000 times to take care of him. Though I reminded him about Harsha and told him, “I have Harsha to concentrate on. His dumbness is a threat to the society”. My brother replied, “Roger that”.
As these thoughts rumbled my head, I put my hand into the first cleavage (the one in the rock dude!). I climbed up slowly. Had the MI-2 music playing in the background on my phone and felt a familiar chill run down my spine. The one I always had when my soul ate junk food and when I balled babes who thought they were hot. “YEAH !!”, I shouted. Slowly, as the first rays of the sun were hitting the top edge of the rock and as the dawn was fading into a bright morning, I reached the summit. I took a deep breath and a broad smile of accomplishment flashed across my lips and I raised both my hands into the air and stared at the crimson-yellow combination of the sky. I stepped back and felt something stick to my shoes. I looked down, my hands still in the air.
“Oh no. Not again! Damn you peacocks. What are the MCH paid toilets for? ” I shouted. I had stepped on peacock fasces. I reinstated, “DO IT LIKE A KING, NOT LIKE A LOOSER !!”.

I looked at Captain Lee. I guess it was for the first time. He grinned. I smiled back but my shoes were spoiled. I slowly climbed down in enthusiasm. My soul was re-energized as I thought it would be. I didn’t need company to enjoy the things I wanted. Captain Lee nodded in agreement as he sometimes read my mind. Man! Guess he was a mind reader in his previous life, because though he never spoke, he always understood my feelings and my urge to drive and rip off the road. He always knew that he gave me a sudden rush of adrenaline and his favorite line, when he saw me get ready to ride was, “Where to, Young gun?” and I replied “I need to get a life”. I reached the foothill and he shunned me for the thing on my shoes. I said casually, “Balls, take lite mama” and he gave in.

We went back home. Nirvana ’07, my college’s annual cultural fest was on. The night before, an awesome sufi-based Hindi rock band called REVE had performed. Awesome vocals that frontman had. The crescendos and minuendos' took me on a high and my college mates thought I was drunk. I laughed at myself when even Captain Lee told me the same thing. “when was the last time when people understood me correctly? I give a damn anyway” and he replied “Please, I am not into solving personality disorders. Leave me alone on that”.

I got ready and we again drove back to college. Things were very different that day. College was looking very colorful, thanks to a set of us, the insti was building up an image. Attendance got screwed, lab practical’s were missed, impression with the profs got messed up but the fun factor remained. Friends give you a “Hi-fi” and shout “Yo Pydi!” and life seems to rock again. The very next moment, a feeling of someone ignoring you, takes over and you get all gloomy and dull faced. Then you remember, that “Damnation leads to salvation”. Life seems ‘oh-so-beautiful ! ’again. Nirvana ’07 rocked. BIG TIME.

BTW, I almost forgot. Captain Lee is my beloved, 4yr old bike. A rugged looking CBZ. Its synonymous with my life and is my only soul-mate. I trust it with my life (cause it may kill me too !).

P.S: This one is for you Rogue :)

Will You be Home if I come over?

2008-06-25T01:17:00.000-07:00

Originally Posted on:
Aug 23rd, 2007.

"No. I won't be home if you come over. Yes everything is fine with my music system. No its not your bad breath. No it is also not your weird dressing sense. No No defintely not the underpants issue. Well I am not broke but I am not going to pay for your auto-rickshaw fare on your awy back home. Yes the cologne that my brother sent is still unopened. No I am not going to open it anytime now. Alright bye."

Wham!

"Don't you hang up the landline so hard. I am going to throw your phone out"

"Sorry mom!"

Phew. It takes more than just patience to deal with this guy. Yes, it was Lapaki Loo. The pride-headed friend of mine. He wanted to come over but I had...err...issues. So had to stay away from him. Not unbearable of course.

But did you ever wonder, how comfortable it is to have a friend who can come over to your place just for the heck of it! You know, a friend who knows all the misgivings you are capable of and takes all the attitude you throw on his face but still doesn't feel shy to take out that one last tetra pack of Appy out of your refrigerator and ask you if you want a sip? No, Lapaki hardly asks that stuff although there isn't much left for me to ask by the time he gets to the refrigerator and I could grab some grub and soft drinks before he does. As if some Chimeron is gonna eat him for dinner and his last wish is to hide in my refrigerator.

Chimerons remind me of sad Tarot readers who have weird creatures on their cards. I just don't understand why Tarot card readers, Zodiac sign composers and astrolgers get so much rope in this tech savy world. Seriously, a company's performance depends on its working and not on the zodiac sign of the CEO!

"Oh hi Mr. Sep 11th, how is your company progressing?"

"Nothing new actually sir. We are still virgins in the field as you well know. How is yours?"

"Oh. I am a natural. August 19th man. My company is roaring."

"Here is Mr. Feb 6th. He recently opened up another food joint in the deep seas of Japan. Truly an Aquarian, I would say."

Was there ever a zodiac sign called "Dumboris"? Then all the people of the world who believe in zodiac signs can fit into it. No I am not trying to make fun of constellations and planetary moments. Not at all. I don't want to be hit by an asteroid when I am attending nature calls in the woods. But if people can be judged on the basis of their zodiac signs, Sigmund Freud would've been just a grandpa in an old family tree portrait hanging in the store room of the Freud family. Why do the Americans have the day-light savings? Why not leave the job to a couple of astrologers to decide when the sun will come out? For all you know they might come up with a Zodiac sign for the sun and then describe his future as - the coming 1million years might be hard for you. You might get a promotion. Little Lord Hanuman will come again and threaten to eat you. On the personal front, things won't be smooth. Kids will be troublesome. Be careful with the earth's atmosphere it may blow you up too.

Yes, I am sure they'd do that. Every local newspaper says their Tarot reader is an expert yet none of the things they say are totally true nor they match each others foresight. Just that each Chhadiwallah and each Bandiwallah claim to be the direct descendants of Sage Brahmam or Nostardamus and give us a 100 possibilites which include day to day happenings like "You will quarrel with your partner" or "Your boss will be unsatisfied with you" stuff. No denying that real time Fortune Tellers can actually predict minute things to huge calamities but what sort of people believe in Pindewallahs and Baiganwallahs who tell people that they are going to face things that day, what everyone has been facing all over the world over a long period of time now and which is only obvious?

If you can't really predict the future then I think you don't have any good reason to fool around people's sentiments for the sake of your stomach.

Psychoanalysis and Psychiatry are here to stay. Corporates are using them very well. Because they know that the only way to get the best out of their employees is to know them better, individually and suggest them methods to overcome their misanthropistic idiosyncracies and not to read out their "luck this week", "luck this month" and "Daily Fortune".

Note: Try this. Take a sunday edition of the Deccan Chronicle and then wait till wednesday. Now compare your zodiac sign's fortelling of the sunday one with the wednesday one. You'll know what I am talking about.

P.S: Surnames are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people is only a coincident.

13 comments:

varun said...

well written....well the author really has a say in this issue and makes his point clear that he doesn't believe in this astrology shit.

9:28 AM

Sriharsha said...

That was good blog...but wat was the purpose....and i think the Lapaki charecter is very very funny but i think u shud get over him now and create another fictional one......watever it makes me laugh

9:32 AM

darthvader said...

noice baap...really random and well written...glad to know tht there are some people who still write for themselves

9:36 AM

prateek aka pratsphinx said...

A very "velcro"ish post(it has all the characteristics your posts generally have). Made a fun read:)

9:48 AM

Anonymous said...

must say dude tht u getting better by the min!! gr8 work man!

4:49 AM

Aparna said...

hey shiva,,,,,my random browsing left me here,,,,another good write up ,,,,,bit contradicting with slight comical touch,,,,,and proves your point.....the character "L Loo" is interesting,,,,,looking forward for more encounters and incidents with him.... :)

7:44 PM

Santhosh said...

nicely expressed viewpoint....hav a real good time reading ur blogs...gr8 wrk again :)

12:10 AM

Dark Angel said...

RANDOM !!!!!! Ur crazy !! But u made a point.. that astrology thing sucks.. i agree.. but sometimes it does make u feel good ya !!!

3:03 AM

Spinebuster said...

RANDOM !!!!! wonderful, after long it was like "arre, baap! its so true..." types. Brownie points for good writing n explanation !!!!!!!
at the end ... "Lovely"

9:57 AM

TaChi said...

loadsa stuff that keeps you reading here...love the thoughts on frnds...and yes keep writing....by the simpsons fan...duh...

9:48 PM

Creative Shocker said...

this one was really good... but Lapaki needs to go... he's been over-used n abused in ur writings...

4:02 PM

Creative Shocker said...

I consider this to b ur best blog till date... right balance of wit/sarcasm/ etc... u've come of age... keep it going... use this post as a milestone n improve upon ur style... again.. " i liked this one"

4:04 PM

raul said...

ahhh...nice random thoughts....
i totally agree with ur astro..thoughts...( i said similar thing in a gd)...
and i wanna meet this lapaki...

12:09 PM

Serendipity

2008-06-25T01:11:00.000-07:00

Originally Posted on:
Saturday, September 29, 2007

Serendipity Sreesanth took the catch
my heart took a lurch
down under beaten to pulp
pakis were swallowed in one gulp
racist roadsiders making love near the stinky lake
serendipity!

I mean why not? I forgot the last time I was rhetoric to an extent of making Wodehouse hide his books in shame(at the risk of being corrected by some guy who scored peanuts in his reading section in his kindergarten). What is it that is holding me? I know the word 'youth' starts with a y. So do I! Why can't I start a write up without a question?

Is the human memory limited? Is it true that you can learn new things only at the cost of forgetting something else that is old or unimportant? If not, how can one explain the fact that learning the word 'bantering' and its meaning pushed my friend's birthday outta my head? Also, do you know I have a silver ring which has an inscription inside that says "THE RENEGADE"? I know you totally didn't need that fact but knowing it won't hurt you right? Now quick, tell me, what is the radius of the sun? I am sure you forgot. Unless you are a JNTU undergrad, you are not supposed to forget it. Now, comes the question. Why did you forget that? Yes I always ask too many questions.

Before my blogs get too sterotypical I will tell you something else and divert the topic and make you think I am not writing about the same things again and again. Hey, if you took a course in the Tamil language, what would be the first word you learn? Ok sorry I will stop it right away. Are you claustrophobic? Ok ok sorry. Continue.

Look out the window immediately. As far as I know, you wouldn't really care to do that. So just visualize what you see out of your window. Now freeze that image. Now, put that image into the album of your mind where you've been putting all the memories of your childhood. Certainly, your memories are always in the form of snapshots right? So place that image there. Do you think the next time you look at that album in your head, you'll remember the image you stored which I asked you to store? No, you won't. That is because you can't force snapshots into your head. They are just taken automatically. What I don't understand is, how and when are these snapshots taken? Under what conditions? Sometimes, when we're with friends, we try remembering funny things that happened long back and we remember something else. Why this serendipity? What sort of a cipher is it that we don't know how our brains work? Sigmund Freud never faced shit like this. Why me?

Yes. I again asked too many questions. Guess I am stereotypical. What was the reason you read my blog till the end if you knew it was going to be stereotypical? You expected serendipity?

P.S: If you think that this was not stereotypical then I would just like to say that my friend lapaki, is pride headed and he uses my best cologne without my consent. I hate you man. Spotted: A portrait at Villa, Coffee House, Sindhi Colony. Title - The last act of defiance.

Labels: Coffee, Confusion and Citation

7 comments:

Curls said...

hey i love this one the most of all your post...you still got that characteristic chaotic randomness going on.....but somehow this chaos is more poetic and has a flow that is delightful...

2:04 AM

darthvader said...

lol....love ur blog man...thts all i need to know to read it...:)

7:47 AM

Creative Shocker said...

madness...absolute madness... i love it

4:11 PM

insideaditishead said...

your blogs have a nice roundness to them...like a circle comes around...

8:08 AM

Alter Ego said...

Hey..Im officially in love with ur blog.. read all ur posts and must say u inspired me to write more.. keep adding posts

2:40 PM

Alter Ego said...

Hey ..Im officially a fan ... absolutely love the stuff u rite.. inspires me to rite more..keep adding posts..

2:44 PM

Anonymous said...

hi.. really love ur style of writing...read all the posts.. keep up the good work.. add more!!

7:47 AM

Can You?

2008-06-25T01:08:00.000-07:00

can u blog like me?
talk like me?
act like me or rather walk like me?
can u spin like me? dance on the floor like me?
can u see like me, fantasize like me?
can u screw like me? sing, growl and headbang like me?
can u think like me? care like me? sleep on the floor like me?
oh...can u do this like me? can u comment like me?
can u moonwalk like me?enjoy the sun like me?
can u comb ur hair like me? groom like me?
can u take a pic like me? think about a girl like me?
can u wait for a phone call like me? can get sick like me?
can u be clueless like me? bitch like me?
can u have a pain in the neck like me?
can u ____ like me?can u not hate someone like me?
and can u puke on the floor like me?
can u watch a movie like me?
can u not eat non-veg like me?
can u drink like me?
forget like me?
loose like me?
sin like me?
have fun like me?

Hackneyed

2008-06-25T01:04:00.000-07:00

Originally posted on:

Thursday, December 06, 2007

We march...
Into the busy corridors of the Monda Market we march
Squeezing into the crowd, trying to bargain on half a kilo quantity of lady fingers, we march
We march, in pursuit of that one red Bengaluru tamata, we march
We march, to find the cheapest prices for green leafy vegetables we march
Amidst the stinking smell of the open sewerage of Secunderabadand
Amongst the rich, poor and the bourgeios we march
Irking the chaffeur of the Merc, not heeding to the horn, not letting his car through
Staying on the street, fighting with the 'santrawallah' for that one extra santra
We march, to get the best deal on moong dal and Bombay Ravva
Smiling, after looking at the rupee we saved.
We march.Into the Monda Market we march.

Typical Indians. Bargaining on vegetables and fruits. Some stingy Indian once said, 'Its not how much you earn that makes you rich, it is how much you save'. Curls took me to Monda market in Secunderabad the other day. She had to buy some moisturser. It was an enriching experience. For the mosquitoes I mean, as millions of them sucked blood out of my already emaciated body. The worst was the stinking smell from the stamping of the rotten tomatoes lying on the streets and the buffalo droppings just beside the moong dal vendor's shop. What intrigues me, is the ethnicity of this lot. People, rich and poor, male and female, kids and Grampas. Everyone, irrespective of color, cast, creed, age or sex. Everyone bargains. Even the *itch who gets down the E-class Merc bargains trying to rip the poor old fisherman man of his worthy catch, while her hubby dearest is stripping off the Government's corpus fund on the name of some shipyard building over the banks of Gandipet.

I don't understand this. People put thousands of rupees on one square yard of land but they are very recalcitrant when it comes to pay that one extra rupee to the vegetable vendor. Why? What kind of an ego clash is that? They actually feel proud of saving that one rupeeand share the tale with the neighbours when they meet in the mornings while watering the tulasi plant after their shower.

No wonder the rich get richer and the poor get poorer in India.

Oh by the way, Viccissitudes of a certain Velcro is open for the following bloggers to post on my blog. Others, I'm sorry to miss you this time but just scrap me and you can blog in starting next season.
The guests are:
Curls
Creativeshocker
Der Untermensch
Drop Dead
RiSk
Bizzare Kid
Dark Angel
Ani
Aditi (0n paper)
DV
Raul

The End is the Beginning is the End

2008-06-25T01:00:00.000-07:00

Originally posted on:

Monday, January 14, 2008

'What is wrong with Terpsikure?' I heard the overtly obnoxious lecher around the corner say. 'Its not Vicissitudes of a certain Velcro anymore. Its Vicissitudes of every other man in the world!'. Of course, my admirer. I told ya. We're going global. So it ought to change. Who knows? Social Media might buy me too!

This post is a very special post. Because Lips decided to post on my blog! He otherwise posts at Steal This Blog. In the past, he free lanced for JAM, JLT and HydroGen.

This is very unusual though. Because when I first asked Der Untermensch a.k.a Lips to Guest Blog for me, I knew that I would get his post in the December of 2011. So when he mailed me with his post, I was pleasantly surprised. I enjoy his writings a lot. I'm sure you'll enjoy it too.

************The guest blog starts here************

I cant write anymore. I hate the world too much. I have been away from my regular stomping grounds for a few months, and havent posted to my blog since November. I have had the opportunity to travel a little. Reflect. I've seen the world. Contemplated its mysteries. Pierced the shadows, lifted the veil etc. etc. ..And i hate every last sentient molecule of it. I realise now that maintaining a blog was a feeble attempt at defining my reality. Confining it within a few words, and then processing it for mass consumption. But I just cant do it anymore. Think of it as suicide. Think of me as a martyr. Your own personal Jesus [snicker, snicker]. (Or your own personal Wolverine [Snikt, Snikt]) I'm moving on now, forcing my own evolution. Meta-sapience is a quark's breadth away. This is the last transmission from a dying intelligence. Cue last chance to evacuate planet earth before it is recycled. Cue comatose by Ayreon. Cue the last trumpets. Cue the lamb and the seventh seal and the whore of babylon and the three esoteric trials of man. Cue the end of it all.

I want to go away, as far away from myself as i can. I want to run away from it all, crash through the safety barriers, and drift off into space.. like a comet, scream across the blood red horizons, and then fade away into the middle distance. I want to collapse into myself. Implode. Curl up and fucken die. On second thought, I just want to stop contradicting myself.

Something vaguely 'Zen' would be appropriate here. I'm feeble at haiku, so here's a nifty aphorism instead.

"You may use the finger to point at the moon, but once you see it, the finger is no longer essential."

Think of words. We dont use words to describe the world around us.We use words to *create* the world around us. Our reality. The words are just a mirror of the code beneath it all.Which is merely an extension of ourselves.

And once we truly *see* the world, the words are no longer essential.

So do i see the world, finally?

I dont know.

But I'm holding up a finger.
And I'm pointing it at the world.
Guess which one.

Ocean Waters and the Boss' Dirty Deeds

2008-06-25T00:57:00.000-07:00

Originally posted on

Monday, November 19, 2007

Hi fellas! A new face on my blog. A guest writer. A friend of mine is the guest on my blog for this post. Its his post on my blog.
This is the new face of blogging which I call - Guest blogging.
The guest this post, is Varun Chenna who writes at http://www.varunchenna.blogspot.com/
Dr0p in the comments and encourage this young lad. You can guest blog on my site too. Just scrap me in my profile on orkut and I'll get back to you!

Embryono Cheerio!
-Velcro

---------The guest post starts from here-----------

Name:Ocean Waters
Location:Airbag Industries LLC, California, USA
Profession:Senior Stock Control Officer
25th January, 2007

Hi my name is Ocean Waters. My father was born to his parents when they went on a holiday to an island, hence the name Waters. My mother was born to her parents when they were cruising on the atlantic, hence the name Ocean. Well, pretty unusual for a person who sits on an office desk gets his morning coffee and by the time he takes a sip, it gets cold and tastes like liquid shit. Blame the work load and the coffee maker.

A major security breach occured two weeks ago. A cargo reportedly coming from Haiti was smuggled into the industry. They reportedly contained a chinese drug. The drug is supposed to be so lethal that it kills you if your heart rate drops. So you need to keep doing rigorous stuff and expose yourself to adrenaline pumping activities like getting involved in dangerous activities, fight fear or do foreplay. There is no antibiotic for it. You survive until your adrenaline keeps pumping.

I wasn't there during the check up and had no clue as to how they sneaked that shit in. I was called by my CEO. Such a motherf***** he was.
"Ocean, we got a security breach. I want you to look into this matter as it is a major concern for the company. It is you who has to be blamed for. I want the traitor, alive."
"Sir, but I wasn't there when they smuggled that stuff. I was away on official work so how can I be blamed for it?"
"Hell with your official work. Who sent you out to do somebody else's work?"
"Mitch Baker."
"Fuck Baker. I am your superior. You take orders from me not from some bitch like mitch."
"But, sir"
"No more fucking around. You dont fuck with me now Ocean else you'll see yourself being dragged in a sewer pipe of 500 yards of shit. Now go and get me that motherf*****."
"Yes, Sir".
I started the investigation. Well, I didn't know where to start. I went to strip clubs, walked empty streets, kept an eye on Mitch with a high resolution telescope that can increase or decrease its field of view. I saw people making love, man beating wife, kids watching porn, teens kissing , NRIs selling 'pan' on the golden Californian beaches, Hispanics dancing half naked and Arnold Schwarzanegger, campaigning for the forthcoming elections but no sign of the crook. Then I realised, who am I searching for? Then suddenly the room I was in, filled with an eerie surrounding. There was a strange aura filling the entire room. It was like the northern lights. I felt I was on a space odyssey. Then the room was filled with a strange smoky odour that was very familiar to what my grandma used to use when she went clubbin'. The door separating the living room and the dining area opened and the smoke rushed to take the shape of a woman. I was at a distance and it looked very hazy because of the smoke. The form sharpened and could see a really hot woman with good "twins". I couldn't see the face but i felt there was no firmness in the woman's body as i kept observing and moving forward. I realised that she wasn't a hot woman anymore. Just an old lady with nothing to lose, came back as if a prophecy was coming true. I guess she took the form of an oracle to predict the unforeseen.
"Oooceaaan!", she called out.
"How, how do you know my name?"
"That's because I changed your diapers when you dropped stuff into them. Your father beat the shit outta your ass for stealin his money from his wallet."
"What the.... Who are you?"
"Your Grandmother, you dork"
"Grandma, is that you?"
"No, its Elizabeth Bathory who came to castrate you. It is very much me you shit head."
"What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in heaven."
"I took leave for a day to help you solve the mystery. God wasn't allowing but I persuaded him that you cannot do it with your bird-brain."
"Grandma you are trying to offend me."
"Oh shut up, you puny little piece o' crap."
"Aaaarghh!"
"Yea Yea!"
"Alright so where do I start from. I have no clue as to where to look for and what to look for."
"You never had any clues."
"Yea, so help me then."
"The thing for which you look for is right where you thought it could have never been. Think for the reasons. Ask yourself why you had to do this, why you had to do that or why you had to go there instead of somewhere there."
"I didn't get you"
"Alright just think."
"Ok I got it. So what should I think about?"
"About how to effectively please a woman sensually."
"Grandmaaaaa"
"Then what you punk? Think why you had to be replaced with someone else? Think what was the need? Is it that it was only you who could do that work or there was some other reason. Think!"
"So you want me to start my investigation from my office?"
"Yes"
"Alright, thanks grandma."
"Anytime grandson. Gotta go, god's getting pissed off there is nobody to watch over hell. Cya!"
"Err yea...cya!"
I went to the office and checked the records for the person on duty who replaced me. No official records. They were missing. Then something just struck me on the back of my head. It was Mitch. No no. Mitch didn't strike me on my head, it was the idea which struck me. It was he who did all this. It was he who helped the goods from Haiti to get in here. He couldn't do it when i was there because the report goes to my boss directly.
Just then...
"Ocean, wassup?"
"Nothing much Mitch. Sup wid ya?"
"I thought you could help me with this package delivery thing. You know the streets well, don't ya? I want this to be delivered very fast and no one here knows as well as you do."
"Okay! but what about the check up here. The goods are going to arrive here anytime now."
"It's gonna take you an hour or two to get back. Less chance for a check up. I'll make some arrangement for that."
"Hey, where is Stephen? He knows the lanes too. Its he who taught me the basics."
"Well, um..he is on leave today man."
"Oh! I see. Alright cya then once i give the package."
"Alright, cya."
I met Stephen and enquired of he was on leave that day.
"Hey Steve, wassup?"
"I'm cool except for the dead body in my bedroom. Sup with ya?"
"Can I ask ya something?"
"Sure man, anything but 'bout the dead body in my bedroom!"
"Sheesh! Who'd care about a dead body man? I'm not the LA police. So is the dead body cute?"
"Is this what you wanted to ask me?"
"No actually, wanted to ask you if you were on leave last week, the day the security breach occured?"
"No man I was very much there, but in the Operations Research department. Mitch sent me there for some work. Why do ya ask?"
"Nothing specific, jus asked."
"Ok"
"Hey man, I just remembered, I need to go change my diapers..err..data sheets, I gotta leave."
"Alright man, cya!"
"Cya!"
So my suspicion was correct. I got you fucker. I got you bloody Mitch.
"Sir, its Mitch who is behind all this."
"Behind all what?"
"The chinese goods which were smuggled and brought into the industry."
"What the heck? There are illegal stuff being smuggled into the company and you tell me now?"
"Sir, you reported to me and asked me to investigate on how this illegal stuff was smuggled in."
" What the hell are you talking about? I don't report to you. I am your superior, and you report to me."
"So that is what I am doing here, giving you the report."
"Report about what Ocean?"
"The smuggled shit you asshole."
"What the....mind your tongue you pervert."
"Oh look who is talking?"
I bend under his desk and pull out a woman and raise my brow.
The boss speaks, "Its time you got a promotion young man."
"I won't tell no one about your dirty deeds in the office cabin. Just get that Mitch arrested."
"Aye."
A loud ring interrupted my whole state of mind. It was the alarm clock. I was dreaming the whole time. It was one helluva dream. All about perceptive reality. I perceived and so it was there.
My name is Varun Chenna. Drop by at my blog if you liked this :)

Don't Turn Bad

2008-06-25T00:53:00.000-07:00

Originally posted on Mar 5th, 2008.

Dots. Tiny ones. Connecting them is so fu*king hard! Although, all my life I was told to do that same thing. Learnt it only a million times. 'Connect the dots, son' my dad said as I stared at an abstract drawing which had just dots in it in the weekly EENADU magazine which came as a suppliment every sunday. When in the end, I connected them, I was happy at what came out of it. A simple drawing of an animal. Either a rabbit or a doe. Every sunday I woke up early, to do just that.

21 years. Hyderabad has fed me. Hindus and Muslims fought around the corner at old city every week. Telugu families in my neighbourhood, which migrated from Andhra always made fun of my Urdu mixed Telugu. Someone even called it "Urugu". Someone just said it was Telangana.

Where is hate still mongering?

"Doooood! I cannot believe you started it! You were the one who used to shun it all the time!"
"I'm a fucking hypocrite baap! I don't follow what I say."

Am I troubling enough? Not yet? How about, "I don't believe in it anymore"?

There are times. When you wished the imaginary bullets passing through your head were real. Right? When a sane thought of turning back time and starting all over again seems not just silly or ridiculous but also repugnant and obnoxious. Do I need to restate? Or wait... Am I writing a testimony?

Are you helping? How? Will you kill the mocking bird with me? I don't want to turn it into hate. I am living with that. I will die with it. Kept the faith and now trying to keep it real. You too. Keep it real.

सीख दे पर सिखियो न मानत।

All this fu*king time, I hurt. Now I'm hurted. No corrections. Spelling intended.

I just want one more thing from life. I want amnesia. I'll die for it. Tell me where do I get it? Does the US defence have it? Is MIB really true? MIfu*kingB reminds me of the same thing I wanna forget man! Fu*k!

Yours Truly
Anthony Blood.

Musings on a Mahasivaratri

2008-06-25T00:32:00.000-07:00

Originally Posted on Mar 6th, 2008, 2:59AM.

Well its exactly 3 AM. My eyes are hardly blinking. There are a lot of first times about this morning. For starters, I get to spend time in front of the TV and the computer without any remote complaint from my parents. I starve myself for exactly 22 hours while having only some water and antioxidants(tea). I somehow have an elevated self control, even at the most rigorous-testing time. The best part is, I'm not high.

People have huge misconceptions about Shiva. As in the God. We have misunderstandings in history. The death of a certain Indian leader some 50 years back is still controversial. Some say that his death was not natural but it was due to STD. And what about the JFK killing? Any idea as to who got him assassinated? Hitler, Subhash Chandra Bose, Kurt Cobain... Mysterious death circumstances. Forget what Dan Brown tries to prove with the Da Vinci Code. Forget about incidents that happened 2000 years back. About Jesus and the Holy Mother. Can you 'connect-the-dots' in case of the aforementioned deaths? Stuff that happened, last century?

What the eye didn't see, the heart didn't grieve over.

I don't know much about Shiva myself. Although, I am named after him and I am a Shaivite. And although, I am told to have a temper of Rudra and the dancing skills of Nataraja. What I do know, is that Shiva is associated with entirely wrong stuff these days. The single most misunderstood concept is his dance. Many of my friends, males and females alike, have associated his dance with obscenity. Which is quite false. His dance has a cosmic significance. The dance of Shiva and his mudras affect the earth. He is the God of Dance. Not the God of Shringar. We all know who God of Shringar is, don't we? Yesh. Our very own, Manmadha. I also know, that Shiva's ucchharan of the Omkar, has a process of evolution surrounded with.

Times have changed. There are sacreligious people all over. I mean those who defame religion for their own benefits. As in some party nights in Goa, where people promote getting high as divinity. Which is also a huge misconcetion again. The Soma or Ambrosia, is not a drink that takes someone on a high. It is the food of Gods. Of course, not recommended for humans as they tend to get high on it.

I had to bring up all these issues is because there have been too many signs. Too many that I couldn't ignore them on a daily basis. It all started when a 'friend' of mine said, that the name Shiva couldn't have suited anyone, any better. Then there are obvious signs like the name of my blog. Terpsichure, originally means dance. I changed it to Terpsikure so that it will sound more funky. I hear there are a lot of Shiva temples in Kerala? Then that explains why Sreesanth and my friend Sriram, both Mallus and both very expressive on and off the field are good dancers.

There is too much to know about Shiva. His ultimate Bhakt is an Asura(the evil people) whose first name is Ravan. He is the Adi-Yogi(the first Yogi there has ever been). He gives away wishes like Late Mr. NTR gave away subsidised rice to the poor when he was the CM of Andhra Pradesh. His vehicle is a cow and thats why the cow, is Holy. He has poison in his throat. He has a third eye. Pretty dangerous it can get at times. Manmadha Macha had a bad experience with it. Parvathi Devi, is his better half. Literally. That's why, he is also called as the Ardhanareeshwar. Now we don't exactly know why he shuns great palatial rest places which Vishnu and Brahma consider only mandatory for relaxing, but I like it. I adore it and I also follow it. My ruggedness is Shiva-inspired. Yes I am over-doing the 'I-am-great-you-need-to-look-at-yourself-in-the-mirror' but I don't care. I haven't eaten solid food for 30 hours now which is the longest period I ever went without food and which means I tend to write differently.

Seriously. Der Untermensch, Raul, Kellwyn, Shweta and some other friends had said the same things it was like it was something telepathic. Dood I need to sleep. Or maybe not. Or yes I do. I wonder what Anthony Blood is doing.

This blog, has a significance. It displays my change in mood from last night. It tells people what I think of Shiva in general.

P.S: No offence to anyone. Individual opinions enertained. But didn't intend to make fun or defame anyone.

The Penultimate Point

2008-05-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

Twenty one years. Hyderabad has fed me. I have been at this same place that same amount of time. I have seen Hindus and Muslims fight around the corner at old city every week. I have witnessed flyovers collapse. Telugu families in my neighborhood, which migrated from Andhra region, always made of my Urdu mixed Telugu. I have been in love and out of it. Or I am still stuck to it, I'm not sure. I have hated someone and stopped. I was hated and still am. I tried being what I wanted to be. I have tried to make friends. I have tried to meet deadlines. I have worked my way to the top of the ladder and just before I reached the peak, toppled and fell. I have been the victim of others' hate, pride and ignorance. And of course, of Bruteforce. They threw stones at me. They made fun of my company. They hated me for saying the right stuff. They hated me for taking my own stance. At the end of it all, what bugs me the most is the fact that they'd mention me as "Oh he is just someone I know from Undergrad school".

The last four years of these twenty one years have been very memorable. The kind of memorabilia you would never miss out on when you are old and you are mulling. Albeit, I can remember the first day of college very vividly, I seem to be loosing track of time when it comes to looking back at the stuff that made me what I am today. Truly cherishing moments were those when we came out with M'06. I was just a beginner at designing and I couldn't write half as good as a fourth grade could. They, my seniors, taught me. They made me realise that if I wanted to express myself then I should not look into the mirror but look into my heart. They opened my eyes to a world that I never knew existed. They corrected me with a slap on my head everytime I made a mistake. I respected them for that. I admired them and to a certain point I idolised them. Then came the day, when they had to leave. I despised the day. I cribbed about that day for a long time.

Time passed by. Winter came after autumn. Life seemed weary. I saw my juniors crib about the smallest of the things. I laughed at them, in public. I taught them that life is meant to go on. They listened to me in awe. Ironically, I have become the senior who will not be seen in the college from next semester. The time of the year has come and passed, when anonymous professors from other colleges question your abilities and test what you have learnt in the last four years. I don't want to be here though. I want to go back. I want to relive them all. The happy times and the sad times. I want to slap the girl(TDP) of my class who thought I had a crush on her and told everybody that I proposed her. I want to pick up the chocolate wrapper I threw in the department corridor and put it in the dust bin. I want to hug the trees under the shades of which I revised that one last bit of theory question that appeared in the question paper. I want to keep the rocks in which I sat chatting my time away, devoid of thirst of time testing scales. I want to watch a movie together with all my friends. I want to end feuds and cold wars which exist in groups of friends and well wishers. But time is always a constraint. It is stopping me now like it always did whilst trying to go back and correct my mistakes. Make myself a fool by getting trapped in false love. And deserving the very worst treatment there is.

So, I bid farewell. To this college. To the walls, to the cafeteria, to the stairs, to the basketball court to the D Block where we have mirrors in washrooms(Does your college have one? Ha Ha. It does? Still. Ha ha!) and to my favorite part of the college, the rocks in front of B Block.

Every student will be here. At the same point where I am right now. Nostalgia is not the right word to describe my feelings. It it something else. Something that will grip your happiness and at the same time, makes you feel good about it. A heightened sense of emotion and satisfaction. Graduation day if not far away. Four years of my engineering are flashing in front og my eyes as I type. Not every group of friends stick till the end. Not every student who passes in distinction does something useful with the subject. Not every student who scored the highest in Physics or similar subjects, give an acknowledgment speech at the Nobel Prize ceremony.

There are people waiting for you out there, ready to clutch your throat to get their work done. Some would jsut pay peanuts for the breakthrough research you do for them. Manners is excessively rated to the extent that if you would sneeze and wipe your nose, people are scandalized. The way you deal with them depends on your attitude with which you graduate.

I habe tons of funny incidents that will make you roll on the floor laughing and some that will make you shed a tear or two. But I'll let you readers learnt it on your own and baby! At terpsikure, you make your own memories!

At the end of it all and at the risk of sounding cliched, I'd simply sum up my engineering life in one line.

"Engineering was fun man!"

R.I.Pee

2008-04-14T10:51:00.000-07:00

"I drive all night, just to get back home."

I had to quote that. The thing is, I've been having identity issues lateley. I guess its been some.. hmm..let me see.. Twenty one years? yeah Thats about it.

When I was a kid, when I could be your average right handed batsman and also manage to be the left hand pinch hitter, people called me an indecisive prick. My ambiguity was misinterpreted. I felt bad. Thought it was a phase. Sooner or later, I'd get over it.

Back into the present, I am just a guy building up a new virtual identity, because the last one I owned was burnt alive. The ashes still remain. Phoenix, they say is a mythical creature. But I wish it were for real. My MP3 player is called Fawkes.

That reminds me of yet another sad ass identity crippling encounter. But what the heck? I was always the one they despised.When I say 'they', do you even care to ponder who it might be? I certainly don't indicate the Gods. Definitely not the Nazis. Not even remotely, the Americans. Nope, neither are 'they' my childhood best friends. 'They' refer to.. come on.. take a guess.. yes, yes.. you are almost there.. yes.. Awwwwe.. You thought they were my college buddies? Noooo...'They' are my you-know-who. Yeah now you got it right. They cannot survive without despising me. They feed on the flesh of my brains. They throw up into my skull after scraping its surface with muti razored blades. I heard them repeatedly say, that they love my hypothalmus.

For them, my existence is the reason they had to take some steps back. For them, I'm just a passing cloud. For them, I'm the biggest mistake. For them, I'm just the rebound to the rebound. For them, I'm the most gothic, underdog zombie fit for the role of one of the extras in the "Life is beautiful" movie. Or maybe, "Scary movie", or "Epic movie".

Time is weary. I can only see blurred images of what good life used to be. I cannot peek into the future. Atleast not without the crystal ball. Blood seems to be the dearest thing to me. At this point in my life, when I am just days away from the complete annihilation of the self, I stare deeply into darkness. Trying to search for the key. The key to the graveyard. I have to let it reach the hands of those who are looking at the annihilation as eagerly as I am. I have to find the key.

I'm not home. I am away from civilization. If Robert Frost were alive, he wouldn't be able to describe the amazing view of these scattered city lights that fade away into a brilliant star lit sky(Keeping in my mind his obssession for the woods and the loo). A prussian blue backdrop. Just about the right amount of light on one corner. Life seems weary too now. Emancipate me, oh stupid silent stink emerging from the gutter. Give me the rope. Pull me up this mire. Pull me into heaven or put me through hell. Life is such a bad guy. It never showed me the directions to live. Why we even have directions on plastic boxes and how to open them. If only this life were just a dream..Damn.. If only, I would wake up tomorrow morning amidst a different dimension. But if that's the case, if this aint reality, then my parents definitely overpaid for my sofa set in the living room.

I think I should get going now. Home is far away.

"I drive all night, just to get back home."
- Anthony Blood

I'm Back!

2008-04-11T03:27:00.000-07:00

yMuch to the hacker's hate, I'm back. My blog had been deleted by an anonymous 'person'. But thanks to google, I got it back! Meanwhile, when I was missing my blog, I started posting on another blog. Why, you ask me? Because post break-up trauma was crippling me and I had no frustration-outlet. Yeah, yeah. Give me the whole 'you are a tragic hero sympathy seeking soul you should be mercilessly killed and everyone should hate you/dump you/leave you' crap. The point is, I still, DON'T give a DAMN!

Anyway, before I forget, I'm posting elsewhere. Please show your love/hate/gut-wrenching stupidity there. Love ya all!! Muah!!!!!

Oh, I almost forgot to add. I got a new lappie! So expect only more posts per month.

Yours Truly,

Shiva Aditya/Velcro/Rocky/Lord Curzon/Ceasar

Amen to damnation!

Intelligent Blog title here

2008-03-20T22:02:00.000-07:00

Sarcastic Post here.