Potty.

i want to be comical about my situation here but even the title doesn't seem to help. not yet, at least.
if i were back in kolkata, or if i were in a good mood, or IF I WERE ANYWHERE BUT HERE OR IF I WERE FREAKING NORMAL, this would be my favourite time of the year. no, really. you know i love winters. i want to be in JU during the winters.nonono not thinking about it now argh, moving onnnnnnn, november man. but i'm here in PUNE all cranky and whiny, losing money hand over fist, taking shit from not people but life in general, sucking hard at everysinglelittle thing i thought i was good at, and believe me there arnt many things *I* ever thought i was good at. im just getting a little more pathetic every minute.i've been making a pig of me and have put on around 6kgs ever since i moved to this place and that IS a big deal because that makes me heavier than my mother and no she is not shorter than me. i dont have visible collarbones anymore, and that is greatly disturbing.i dont like it, and i have been announcing this on all my blogs, even the ones nobody reads yes (you COULD yknow, i post more often there on the rantblog but clearly no body's listening blahblahyawnokishutitnow) plus i cant talk to myself anymore. im stagnating when it comes to music and i cant sing ommagod. OH since we're at it, let me upload peekchar of newband, SWAM, my HOD started it and he's a part of it yes.we had our first show in the college the day before, it was sad. nono everybody else was great but i hated myself and the sound guy REALLY fucked up, and i wanted to kick his balls off his crotch but i had to wear a rather ballooney dress which made me very uncomfortable, mind you, so that wasnt really an option i was allowed to look at seriously.circumstances make it difficult for me to get out of my shell, mens.ok peekchar isn't uploading fuck the wifi connection.

moving on, i have a huge pile of unwashed clothes, one dirtyass backpack to wash and im using Shweta's ageold, dying bag because no other bagthing i own can carry the amount of garbage i usually like to lug around with me, of which, a purple (lifted) journal is an important component. i
would be prouder of it if the pages weren't coming off already, its just sad.i havnt written anything worthwhile in ages and get no time to read. i complain and complain and COMPLAINING IS ALL I SEEM TO BE DOING THESE DAYS WHAT THE HOLY HELL MAN? soon, ill start rhyming compulsively because people here seem to take ANYTHING that does not rhyme as bullshit and anything that does, as poetry. no offence meant to anyone. oh speaking of which, akshay composed this kickass rhyme for english assignment in college and we acted it out today and it was awesome, it was about rajni and i was a little boy jumping up trying to reach ripe mangoes hanging off random imaginary branches. he's brilliant.

on the brighter side though, i now own a couple of beautiful silver rings. no gemmed ones yet but yeah, im working on it ;D ill put up pictures soon if fate allows it. i want a camera.

OH YES CRIBEXCUSE NUMBER 575= I STILL DONT OWN A FUCKING CAMERA! BOOFUCKINGHOO. im gonna crib some more when my backache allows me some respite. later.

when you're falling or so you think

that's when you're panicking like there's grass everywhere, guns
and gummy bears up your backside. its like you're looking at

your joints multiply and the sum of all your flesh can fill
your ribcage with nothing more than a comatose butterfly.there's
stories about houses being told, wires being sold.the
plumbing needs to be fixed and there's a zebra in the living room.you

forget to speak because it is as if you've just puked and your
tongue should not touch the rest of the mouth. it is as if you're
trying to write and your mother is crying and your friends
have cancer or herpes and you should help them.the kings
in your cards are falling asleep, the country is full of
thick cigarette smoke and spices.suddenly

your veins don't show, god knows how the blood
reaches your heart, or if it does. there is a sort of
mugginess inside your mouth, your intestines.there's a
score of other things you ought to be ignoring and you
decide to lay them out before yourself and take
photographs of them. its about this time that

you can swear you've owned people for
stretched moments in the song of the crashing
waves, in the sweltering of the boulders at the
bottom of the cliff.

i probably hate your face and you know it.

some people gloat about the wrong things, and they never realize what comes as a consequence of their actions and what, as a direct result of their godawfully stark shallowness, and thus like to exaggerate situations just so they can feel something occupying their vacuous fucking minds, even if its a hugeass ball of pointlessly stretched strips of facts which otherwise would not make any difference in anybody's life whatsoever. oh but no, they need an issue or no, they need to prove SOMEBODY ELSE has some issue which would make they look like some monumentally coolass punk, because oh, they rule at dealing with the other random issuebag, right? bingo!

oh hey, and that one paragraph typed just turned me into one of those people, damn. but it just came off the top of my head and honestly, i typed it just because some very random thing reminded me of this other random thing which isnt even remotely important, only it just helped me get started with the ranting again, much to your agony im sure, poor reader.
today i had the worst trip ever. it was like time was composed of some widely spaced moments during which i was barely in touch with my consciousness which ONLY ever gave me one sensation- as if i had spun around the whole motherfucking universe and then landed on the floor (which seemed to be resting on the tip of a needle very eager to stab people) after a good million years. then of course, there was somebody in the room, there was the ghost of the red blotches from our lost lives, there was also, the scariest (or perhaps the only scary) powercut i've ever had to survive. and holy mother of Ruffles Lay's, i eat like the craziest chut on planet earth,no kidding.i finished three bigpacks of chips and a pack of biscuits and then ate a heavy dinner and before all this i had downed a snacker, a zinger burger and pepsi and another pack of chips.and my phone died so i wasnt able to call anybody i wanted to call, and that was painful and i felt like panicing but also felt too slow to do so.

well, atleast I wasnt the one tripping on Twilight.
-dies laughing at whoever it concerns-
and i switched on all the lights too, so gimme some credit here. and i FUCKING ROLLED THOSE BOMBS, YES. XD they took me ages and these ones happened to be the suckiest i've ever rolled, really, but i still feel like a fucking star.

ok, so college is off for another 10 days, thanks to my favourite animals in the world. everybody happens to either have gone back home or gone to bombay or something, but im staying, because shayo has come to pune for exactly 10 days herself.today we went to KFC and tomorrow i plan to shoplift, drown in likker, meet lucy and pet her multicoloured babboon. also, imagine me shouting curses at random rickshawalas because they need to go fuck themselves and nobody ever tells them that.yknow, i've stopped wearing the bandage on my injured foot, and i still whine about the pain. im always afraid of people stepping on it and i suddenly seem to have a fixation for imagining people crying apologetically at my funeral after having killed me of the excruciating pain they caused me when they accidentally jumped on my foot. it will be hilarious if i can pull off a screamfulofcurses from up there while they mourn. clearly, i need sleep.and maybe more food. and somebody who'd wash my bandages.

what the fuck.

weird life i have. can mostly be passed off as non existent, yet i seem to have no time for ANYTHING these days. not even sleeping. and i always complain about how bored i am, or how deep in shit i happen to be, but that's all there is to it. i thought i'd finally write a long and descriptive blogpost about everything that's been going on but i feel too goddammed sleepy, so ill pass.oh so this one girl in the hostel has an iball graphic tablet which is what i used to make that image in the beginning of the post oh hell do i suck or what. ok so what else.lets see. i bought two jholas yesterday and busted a lot of money. i've been eating too much and gaining weight. the college canteen seems to be quite alright now. i now own purple eyeliners. two ya.i actually dozed off while typing the last sentence, which, as you mustve noticed, had just two words.

ok so guess what. ill update later.

because you thought you know me.

Off my journal (3)

I have Box windows

in my room, at our house here in Kolkata. They allow me to get locked out enough to be cut out from the rest of the house and still stay conveniently sheltered from the raging unfamiliarity that most of the city has been shoving at my face ever since I came back. It gets a little more stark with every moment i spend here, every second beyond the stretch of time i was to be allowed originally.

There is this person i might have spoken of once, here on the blog. Dadu, an aged neighbour person who loves me and mom and is concerned about us beyond comprehension.In the way old folks often get so attached to random people that it is sort of disconcerting. When he saw me first after i returned, he broke into tears because i had tanned, i couldn't retain my colour nor the supposed 'jella' that my face, or whatever, was once home to. He pitied me. He said i shouldn't go back, i should stay home- that's what's best for me.

Fact is, now no matter which city im in, I somehow only ever find myself somewhere that gives me the feel of being in those hanging box windows, this weirdass, confined territory I've got all for myself.Some place that can never be home but wont even allow me to put myself out there.

Talk about the washerman's bitch.

casinodrims.

everything in my life is not a metaphor. especially, ' im going deaf in one ear', can never be a metaphor this point of my life, mind.
but some things are.


notice the strategically placed King.

and pity my dying creativity.

stock from
sxc.hu

lovely website.

envy,etc.

misery is a bubblegum. i love it.
im back home and this is my first drawingthingydoodlelala in ages.

realisation again

things wont EVER get better. just goes downhill even when you're like in the deepest trench possible.

O BTW

i got published on dogzplot.

check my poem here clickclick

realisation

yknow what the only significant fuckup i've made in my life is?
i've either thought too much, or too little of myself.

and well, its something i keep doing.


but lets stub it out. crack a joke. and fart.
it's gotta be getting better.