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I miss her, so much that I want her. I want her back. I want her now. I am going crazy. I want her back. I want her now. Fully and Unconditionally, maybe I'd even settle for a glimpse. I just want to see her. Rightnow. In my constant state of objectivity and dreams. I want to burn myself and I want to see her through the fire. I want her beyond any thought or expression. It's like everything around me is disintegrating by itself as I am looking for her in unknown time spheres. From an average sociable chap to an ambiguous inconspicuous drug-addled bastard who fails to pursue anything or anyone. Fuck, I just hate this city. I hate everybody. Slowly banishing the angels inside me, slowly getting to disbelieve in love and existence. There is space where I am, I dont know how did I get here. I dont want you to find me. I just want to see you in a unparalleled plain of white snow, as happy as one would be seeing the Sun.

I know you're there. I know you care. For people you love. Just yesterday it seems, you sat across the table. Red liquid in your glass. Red paint on your nails. The smile and it's treat. My heart skippin' beats. Your hands. The fingers which lay still. The hair on your face. The shining dot on your nose. The apple of your eyes. The story you had to tell everytime. The message it gave. The hope it instilled. The better man I was. They way you'd read out to me.
"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.”

Writing?

Blogging isn't writing, it's just graffiti with punctuation!


To call it a night. 

Getting Inside, Going around

How vain it is to sit down to write when you haven't stood up to live.


Took an off from work to see a six part documentary about the great human migrations out of Africa. Bliss! Just a wonderful day, i believe that TV could have been such a powerful medium. It still is, If it isn't for all the waywardness and lack of inquisitiveness to know about who we really are and where we actually live. 


We are so disconnected from our habitat. It's just sad.

The End

The fact that I'm so technologically impaired can be observed by simply moving the balls of eye toward 5'o clock position. I am following my own blog! #canyoubelieveit (some weird tabs, too drunk to care what's written!)

The fact that the earth just dry humped Delhi with 6.7's on the ritcher's scale can be simply attributed to the fact we're pulling out everything from the hills, the great forest's and we don't really value life other than our own self. We don't give back one tenth of what we take from the Earth. It's We just don't feel the inter-connected network of energy and the fact that we're amongst the gifted and intelligent part of the system. Gifted in the sense that we can kill, we posses guns, missiles and weapon's of mass destruction. Gifted in the sense that we elect people who take out money from our own pockets to increase the defense budgets, spend to destroy a city/country and then spend even more to rebuild that city/country (read infuse democracy, liberty, free market practices). Gifted in the sense that we have made the Earth a college of corporations which isn't constrained by countries, laws, religions, anthropologies, topologies or calamities. All we want is money. More of it. Much more of it than we'd think of. Much more than we can handle. And only people who have most of it, have the right to live. The other one's are just not corrupt enough and their life has lesser or no real value. We have made the world a marketplace, where we're happy selling things to one another, without really caring for the source of all things, our planet. We're not really earthlings or anything but we're each other's clients. Just living in a delusion that 'everything's gonna be alright' 'life moves on' & other cliches made only for motivating ourselves & keeping our hope for our hollow lives alive (which literally translates to earning more money till we get screwed from a new position this time). We wait, we pray in hope for our own imaginary version of the redeemer to fix things for us, to solve problems for us? to show us direction in time of the great fall or something? STOP!

Just STOP. Stop living in a fucking delusion. 

Look at yourself, you barely can't do anything except killing, buying/selling things, can you? Can you love? Platonically? Without secretly ranting for big dicks, shaved pussies and a silicone rack? Can you smell the dawn, the rain, the flowers and not smell the branded fragrances. Do you still feel feel your past in the wind, touch it on the stones washed away by the rain and taste it in the bitter leaves of a plant? Do you know that almost lesser know cultures(tribal/enlightening) on the edge of the world are extinct or endangered? And you can't really interpret what they thought or taught from their journey of life cos you speak their language, neither do they. Reminds me of Morrison's excerpt from one of his poem's where he ask's an american indian "Indian-Indian what did you die for? ..Indian says nothing at all" [sic]

I totally believe in all prophecies, because its only sensible to do so. I believe we really don't deserve to co-exist on this planet. So say your prayers and let the good times roll till you meet your end.

They're getting dumber

Prologue - I ain't no societal critic, a conceited cunt and neither do I regard myself as a perfect 'wine taster' at things. But umm.


So here's the thing, I have a problem with people. I just fail to understand their awfully insipid choices, especially when they have options, and not so surprisingly, yep! you guessed it - better options! Why would every damned movie buggers like Salman Khan feature in turns to make so much money at the box office? That guy's got like top grossers coming one after the other. Just read in the news of his latest work of idiocy has already a top gross in week1 or something and it's about to break all overseas record! Well, if it isn't some really good PR, isn't the fact to be-wil-dering to you!? It scared the shit outta me! I think the contemporary cinema is more about the dough these days, its indeed a corporation thriving on moneys sourced from public boredom. Top grosses can be attributed to the immensely overpriced cost of watching a movie (starting from Rs 200 goes all the way upto 900 in the 'gold' class) amongst other things. No one really goes for a movie alone, so you can do your maths there. It's crazy. Shelling out almost 500 bucks for a movie? Not so long ago, I used to watch all good movies I intended to watch at Priyas for 20-50 bucks. Depending on the seats. In what we shall out for a movie alone, the whole jingbang used to make merry inside the theater. I just hate these fucking multiplexes. Bloody overpriced harlots.


Moreover, its not about the money. It's about collective societal intelligence. If that exists at all. We're getting so dumb as time flies by. Firstly, we now only make useless senseless cinema(read movies), it's almost like commercial cinema is the new carrier for selling things to the public. It's just like any other commercial on the idiot box. Secondly, for the people who actually watch such movies, isn't there any sense of anything left in you Satan's little helpers!


Fuck you all. 

Young and Dumber

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Dark Lunacy

It isn't for you. It isn't for her. It isn't for them, It isn't for what I drink. It isn't for what I smoke. It isn't for what I live for. It isn't for what I will die for. It isn't for what I pray for. It isn't for what I want. It isn't for what I will get. It isn't for hope. It isn't about my dreams. It isn't about my future. It isn't about my ramblings. It isn't about my musings. It isn't about my trips. It isn't for what I have done. It isn't for the wrong. It isn't for the right. It isn't about  the blessings. It isn't about the curses. It isn't about love. It isn't about lust. It isn't about easy. It isn't about hard. It isn't about deep. It isn't about mellow. It's isn't about your smile. It isn't about your eyes. It isn't about my heart. It isn't about the sun. It isn't about the moon. It isn't about distances. It isn't about freedom. It isn't about being enslaved. It isn't about your antics. It isn't about what I see. It isn't about reality. It isn't about emotions.It isn't for my desires. It isn't about any whims. It isn't about any light. It isn't about anything. 
It is about what you left behind. It is all about dark. It is all about whatever remains of me. It is all scattered. And all of it is going gray. The white refuses to go away. The dark stays. They march together. They dance on upon my soul. Feasting on red meat. They decimate. It's all about what it isn't. It isn't for what it is. 

Ashes of Time

Yes, I am back yet again. See! All good things come to an end. And sometimes that end is so abrupt and harrowing that you have absolutely no clue what hit you. The point where falling down is far easy than getting back on your feet. The point where you just don't want to rise at all. The point where you don't want to gather all the broken pieces put them together to achieve normality. The point which seems like a naked singularity. The end of the wormhole. The end of all ends. The point wherefore you bank upon some cough syrup to put you to sleep, a million little snoozes to wake up, some coffee to get you back to normal, some anti-depressants to get you away from normal, some herbs to help you achieve a higher normal. No one realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. This blog is a testament to this point. This fucking point. This fucking time!


After this point, nothing shall be like the old times. But being a glass-half-full and approaching the point of no return. I wish to change things, this isn't about my upcoming heroics. For some, it may even sound absolutely normal. It's a battle, it really is. And, this is my arsenal. Words. More words. Evil words. Meaningless words. Exaggerated words. Lost words. I want words to erupt like molten lava. And with it all that's in me to fall to the ashes of time.