Letters from Bengaluru.

Bits From Letter no. 1:


(EDIT: THESE, MY FRIEND, ARE BITS FROM THE LETTER SHRAVANTHI WROTE TO ME. PLIS FORGIVE THE EARLIER CONFUSION)

originally, this was going to be a wordy post about the only thing in my life so far which really makes me inexplicably happy, and is something i can never, not even for a moment, wish to change anything about- shravanthi's letters.but then i go, ohfuck words, and think of putting up selected snippets from all her letters which wont get me slaughtered for making them public, but then my patience with the scanner fizzles out so now this is just going to be a post which wont do justice to what imbues me with this weird energy which makes my mind get off its ass and do a little HYPER BOOGIE.which is because i am lazy and in general, a bastard.the last letter came in a purple envelope, by the way. that killed me. i was sleeping when it reached the house and if you knew me, you'd know its imPOSSIBLE to wake me up unless you've been wrestling with my corpse for the past hour, but all mom had to do is say SHRAVANTHI MS and i JUMPED out of the bed while im not sure how i could even HEAR her talk, really ( but i'm pretty sure that's all she said, i asked later,yeah).
the only trouble is, after this, im sure no goddamned creature that writes to me, nomatterhowkickass,can ever match up to the standards she's set, as far as overall awesomeness is concerned.i kid you not. if there's anything in the world i can afford to be snooty about, its having the most ridiculously amazing penpalfriendperson.
*insert sufficiently retarded looking hyper-grinny smiley*

p.s.somebody kill me for not replying to blogpostcomments whenever i do manage to get any.
p.p.s.please attend my funeral which will follow my next visit to the dentist which is on wednesday mmmk.

Why you waitin over there let's roll (8)

yes ok dudes, I'm over all the gloominessity (bipolarness, among other things,should've been blamed fo it). i got done with a 10 page long (every corner of each page is scribbled in, btw) letter to shravanthi the day before, and it's been posted. yes I'm sort of a maniac when it comes to letters. these arnt even tiny pages, they're the exact opposite. yes i consider this as BRAGGING about something which doesn't even remotely affect the political situation of the country, neither does it do any good to your neighbour's cat's faulty diet, nor ANYTHING else, actually, but cant be helped.i consider this no mean feat, inflicting 10 pages of epic emo-ness/retardedness /nonsensicallity on a fellow human being,so brag i shall. also, one of the pages had a doodle titled:I wish I was a gayboy with flowers in my hair. it was a portrait of a gayboy which looked marginally like James Franco (AAA x 648) with curly hair (as in Milk, that lovely, lovely movie).I AM sad I didnt upload it, actually, and its not even been scanned. ohwell x(

by the by,i have stopped generalising about cats. yes cats, which i had always hated (apart from the black variety) until i visited ishika's place and *cough* fell in lo.. er, liking with one.it was the definition of ultimate gayness, and it was SUCH a cute poser. it'd stay put for 70 minutes and let us take its pictures from whichever angle we please, without freaking out and charging at us like a retarded dino.

yes i mean, just LOOK at that?! it makes me feel like a good picturetaker also. this doesnt happen often.

DONT POKE MAI NOZE!

look at itz toothz :D moarpictures in my orkut album, i dont wanna be repetitivehere.

yes so now, imma admit something (you might consider embarrassing, because i hate hip-hop/RnB in general usually and this might make me a hypocrite etc etc.) aboutmyself.

I LOVEd(?) BLUE *!*

THE BAND yes. they had been off my mind for over two years, but shayo just helped me revive my love for them, going.. Top floor with no disturbin'.. in the middle of a gtalk convo.

the rest of the lyrics flowed from me. Bubblin is THE ULTIMATE SEX.

AND i used to have the hugest crush on..

LEE RYAN. YES.

what? HE'S CUTE, OK? yes one might advice me to stop if i wish to save my reputation from fluidly running downthedrain, but since ihadnone in the first place, i dont run the risk of defacement. AND i have Westlife on my iPod (uptown girl only). AND the C21 version of One Night In Bangkok. holy carp. fuck me, man.

Got a body like whoa (like whoa)
Why you waitin over there let's roll
Take it all the way to the top floor
And let's get Bubblin' girl, Bubblin' girl

xD

Last time i was drunk

i felt some bathroom hysteria bobble up in my chest.i felt
like a wind turbine with a broken teetering-hub, which stands
facing west. i felt seven daggers and 18 years of chipped
nails creep into my dreams one by one. i felt a lot of
terrible things. i also felt

your hands and your fingers as they grew rocky.Last time i was
drunk i tried writing letters to 3 people in heaven. the first
snorted, the second wouldn't acknowledge my existence. the third was
killing himself again.the third was telling me i need to
shove the words into a mortise.i felt like i needed to
keep a promise, or a secret, but all i have is cavities.i
felt like giving some strong advice.

like- When lachrymose,try weeping on someone's bleeding sweatshirt.
or Never ignore a roadkill, it might come to and eat your genitals.
or Turn into a crow. or a unicorn. or something that can escape
fatuous human faith.or Love your children, please love your children.Last

time i was drunk,i felt like polishing forks and honing my blades, like
it is the most tender act in the universe.i felt like being a handgun
hidden in a shrine,or the love hidden in a whore's crevice.i felt
like writing NEX all over my walls and painting them yellow.
like a gay,violent death in springtime, i wanted to scream and
dismember a heart, for once,not my own.

Face

just when i thought i cannot ever put penciltopaper again.
i dont know what to callit. something for the newyear atleast. so yay. shubho noboborsho, if it means anything.

Places to go.

Ok so here is an update. and the title is misleading.
I'm gonna suck at pretending that i have audience here, so lets just get on with a journal entry im too lazy to put to paper.

• We went for a trip to Puri. Each day there= bad hair day.Bright coloured houses and scooters (fluorescent green,pink,yellow) and nice windows.VERY nice windows.Temples and all that jazz. ONE good private beach. A LOT of eating and even more sleeping. Tanned arms and intact face and my inability to understand such behaviour of my skin.And a fucking spoilt lens which resulted in ZERO decent pictures. the only one that comes close is this: (no editage except a lil crop and a border)

oh and example of brightcolouredwallswithnicewindows:

shittypic taken with dad's phonecamera.

• Went and visited grandma etc. after centuries. slept for 14 hours of the day i was there.




• Did nothing.




• Visited nicelinks like this one.Action poetry.




• Got bipoler-er by the second.




• Yelled fuckyou more than i ever have.




• ..and im stopping the loving getting in- KT tunstall.




• I get a little bored of life.

NOTAGAINAAAA.

indoors,i'm paling bonfires and verbing the nouns and
death is a metaphor.the room sighs with the afternoon
grief,the morning grief, the early summer grief saddling
nightfall. the grains in your coffeejar are a thousand
condensed nightmares imitating mine.the room sighs as

love is just a metaphor.in photographs,the eyes grow closer ,
but lighter with the loss of regard.your hands probing through
my ribs find filthy similes eating at a faint throb.the throb,
the paling bonfire, the room with no doormats, no sky,
just blood and disease- affect lunging into attempts to
hide.inside,warming up for spite, expecting
crisis in the hub,i lay out trump defenses- failing, failing,

falling.

---------------------------------------
SOMETHING after ages, and this bloody awful. i wanna shoot me.
butdoods. ive been outa touch for ages. no no shootmeanyway.