Monday, December 13, 2010

Steps away from a heartbreak

If you see something as loving you, 

Dont believe it. Grab at your misery and
your hair to curl up into a ball and stay
very to the next astrologer 
about the best time to start chanting the 
name of any everyday apocalypse to

Glorify it. Get so bombed that you
rechristen yourself Hiroshima, wig in place
heart hidden beyond the mantle. Build 
your own new-age cyber pyramid & spend the
rest of your life's energy trying to

Ignore it. Life goes on. Sits on a bench
and smokes, shags in its head and gets it
gooey as an excuse for not thinking straight. Life
also has a habit of lingering for which you must 

Forgive it.another gust of wind
and its a different face, on a different
bench back at the end of the beat,  sounding
more like a pop each recurring time and 
It's saved itself a seat.At this point,
all you can do-

Be hospitable and this will leave


Saturday, December 11, 2010

I'm exhausted.

Because loving people is tiresome when they’re so busy being rooted to humanity that they’re losing the essence of it.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Fuck! Get em bottles out and SMASH THEM ON MY HEAD!






The writing of a poem (IF you wish to write a poem)

go to your father, tell him this 
is painful, you should leave, we should stay 
in the Mississippi- the fish get tired quicker
elsewhere.Write a letter to your first grade 
teacher, say i lied, i really did 

Steal from the girl
with two ponies and i'm 
glad i did and then let you 

Teach me about god. Its greater without another 
syllable but goddammit that was grief,and i respect you 
for your innocence. Write to your teenage self 

Stop babies ahead but no don't 
fuck around.When you want to write a poem
become a month of harvest instead.Write to yourself
for every letterbox you fruitlessly dissected in your teens,
for how you reached only bones each time organs 
missing as blood or bile.become a month 

Of overflowing trashcans from the binge 
eating acne menstrual 
problems break ups. drink a solution 
of explosives and apple juice,every Eve learning to explode, buy her own food
or eat out of her ovaries. Dont make any make nothing
but excuses or someone believe.Write

To yourself your metaphors are too far out.Your
life is at the stake with that punctuation left to another's will,
you are a bad liar with weak lungs,quit.When they
don't get the game, you're a bad player so quit, light
a candle, write another shopping list or
a travel guide- exit the valley with
the toy soldiers,telescopes,the 

Moments before each plane crash on your mantle
think about each face of the dead that you remember- with
the warts,ones with the skydiving gelidity,
the frequents at the Mountain Bike Forums 

With the juts and gashes, write them epitaphs.In
some mention the faces you wish you could
have seen, their brothers,the wet
hair from the last time you remember(ed) 

Having seen them,pet your peeves
and apologise for the lack of italics they could
do nothing without the lumberjacks.When you 
want to write a poem learn ride a zebra instead.Hold 

Your love affairs and sweet talk, make a speech on the
dying breed of rare sheep, their scientific
name stuck around the edges of your teeth.Do anything but

This, because nothing is scarier, more
pathetic and discarded than 
the writing of a poem in reverse cause 
otherwise it would begin in the woods,breathe 
heavy for a while and then drop 

There on the knees with the stopped antique
watches buried at different points you would 

never arrive upon.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

blogger has

something called 'Undelete this blog'  for deleted blogs.

WTF you cant even feel the triumph at killing something substantial on electronic medium anymore.

Saturday, November 20, 2010



but I have an exclusive tumblr blog exclusively for those who asked, its going to have my artwork and wilder things that shouldnt roam the streets or maybe thats just a lureeeeeeee BUT IM BACK yes highfive

Tuesday, November 9, 2010


So most people missed the 24 hour notice and asked me later, so I'm leaving this open for a while. Wont be posting here, and I have a new blog. Leave an address if you want to stay tuned :)

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


in 24 hours. i will see you somewhere else if you want to see me that is in which case i will leave a
post-it note on your commode so leave me a note here.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Its when my stagger comes in rhyme.

Its a party in your heart and I'm not sure if I can stay
While they're dancing all around me I sit wondering what to say
Come tomorrow I'm hungover with all that leftover wine
I'd been drinking out of what I shouldn't have confused as mine.
As an independent individual I am good, otherwise I am not, no matter how good the Otherwise may be.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

You can really see people when they sing, I can't see no one otherwise Its like I'm soulblind.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


Nobody steals this I MADE IT WOOHOOO I CAN USE FLASH NOW yes ok it sucks eh stfu its the first flashthingy i are happay.its suppossed to be faster and IS in the SWF file i dont know how to change speed on gif or if we can at all im techretarded didyounotknowwww.
everything apart from the kaleidoscope images - my own. :P

EDIT- Yes, so i'm learning flash now. excuse the hyperventilation, i've been sleep deprived hence i thought its look-at-able. :/

Friday, October 22, 2010

And she's real tired hey

She thought of her life - part of the sitcom
when the master returns with a newspaper home
And what's thrown at the feline is dropped just in time
To snap all their strings while they're trying to rhyme.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Should've Made a Deal

If I've added my birds to your treasures of song,

The winds will blow too, whenever I'm gone.

But when the waltz whistles, nestles in your cochlear

Put your heart in place before I lend you the ear.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

About the Younger Man / Conjugal extinction

Dear Mister Processed Nectar,

Our love was a ritual, like a head placing itself
inside an oven each day. One day, I passed. Another day and
more often, you did.

My forests are now one wild village and they speak the same
language; there's more wind between the trees, and rivers
when we arrive.

For his love is but a perfect cigarette burn; he's taught me to blow
rings and go around them too.

so the last thing i drew

                 Well it's a photo and photos suck but what the hell
(and that's me, right there oh yes)

Saturday, September 25, 2010

i think i've put myself in a place where i don't know how to lift myself up and where to get to but the nagging suspicion of this not being where i should be always always lingering man its not pleasant i would do yoga if that could fix it

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

What one must read

Leftover rain slinking down the potholes of a repressed subconscious, inhale this city as a new book this morning. A wind-washed fiction, every square inch of concrete a spot on the page. You start to appreciate modern art, strange colours, stubborn lines and stubborn scars from something poetic. That's a start, you think, and your shoes fit perfectly this time.

Exactly when you must stop thinking.Lesson number 9 in 

How to Keep Your Marbles and More.

Full Title:What one must read when one wants to write How to Sell Your Book.
Alternate title:WHAT ONE MUST NOT READ IS one's  day.



Sunday, September 12, 2010

always, first times.

such a perfect perfect day. even ends with me being handed the exact piece of clothing i need the instant i reach into my whirlpool of a wardrobe. yes, that's more of a miracle than anything preceding it, but thank god for the rest too.


Friday, September 3, 2010

7 in the morning, I go for a walk alone and suddenly BAM. I'm running. Because Running, you see, is apparently the Love of my Life.Such delicate realisations have a way of surfacing at times when you are least expecting an epiphany- in unsuitable clothes, floaters that have made you trip countless number of times during their lifespan, with a phone you JUST CANNOT drop/break/ruin if you had to see the light of another such day, and very aware of the fact that the comfort of the hug you'd been hoping to collapse into at the end of the track is, well, a mirage.

Well at least the phone is sort of alive.
But God, I need to go running more often.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

I wish you would've put yourself in my suitcase.

I talk out loud like you're still around.

Monday, August 30, 2010

The only real problem about being me is that if you are me, you can't see my face when I'm talking and as a result miss out on half the fun.


Saturday, August 28, 2010

that's me right there.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Sleeping Pattern

like the albatross-
twenty five miles per hour,
wind slicing the lids.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


Exactly that, and there's NOTHING I can blame it on except for the lack of the kind of interaction that I'd like with the kind of people that are capable of it, or maybe its just that I haven't done laundry in a while. Everything stinks. I do like just lying on a slanting terrace, its scales rubbing at the back of my being just enough to not let me get complacent,and there's enough sky too, for once. But that's all it becomes, lying down, there is no scope for extrapolating the way I like to, I'm not hunting for flying couches in my head anymore.

In other news,I touched a dog and I liked it.
Also, fixed my guitar with a little help from KC. The stings are rusting but there's music again. If I ever buy a car, it will be big and blue. I'll notice the children on the streets when I drive past, I'll notice the children on the streets.

Sitting at the end of the divider makes me want to sing Irish drinking songs, and- well who could've guessed- drink.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Im sick of dealing with the spineless, I wonder what they keep shoving up their flaccid assholes to keep themselves upright.Maybe all the pretentious self righteousness, but how do they even muster that?

Why the concept of transparency appears to be so RIDICULOUS to everyone is what I do not understand.
And why is it so difficult to come to terms with the fact that maybe it(whatever it is) is just what its like, and there is no undertone that you're missing.

Also, maybe I am just as regular and clich├ęd and dramatic and lame and pointless as anyone and its just not very well expressed (minus the drama), which is probably what works to my benefit.It may not be pretense at all, its just lack of expression. I cant rise above anything, ok. That's it, I'm the loser, and I'm really glad I realise it and I hope you too realise that maybe, just maybe there are facts like these about yourself that you're trying to escape.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010


I'm not doing rantblog anymore, nor facebook, nor girlfriends, and there's no boyfriend to do anyway so lets just make this the dumping ground again.

 I've realised that I suck balls at studio shoots (heh, everything I say has a way of sounding wrong). I'm probably just terrible at working in controlled conditions is all because its the same with anything I do, any form of framework given and you can trust me to be a ball of yarn gone loose around it. Spontaneous photography is probably the best I can do, and thats just sad yknow.

(Spontaneously shot when on pot)

Well, not too sad I guess, unless you take the professional aspect into account, but no wait there is no professional aspect to my existence anyway so HURRAY!
Anyway, so I'm whiny about everything now, but suicidal would be a more appropriate state of mind, given the circumstances.If only I was a clearer thinker. I could swear that just about a minute ago I'd thought of some issue I really need to address (could be anything from a shoelace fiasco to major highschool drama thing) but I can't, for the life of me, remember anything within 2450 nautical miles of it because its out in the sea of complete wipe-out. The only good thing to have happened to me in the recent past has been Adobe InDesign, it made me a little less distressed about graphic design and a future I don't really believe exists.Yes, a software.
And i don't have it.

To TOP IT ALL,my Uncle is visiting India for a month, for the first time with all four of his pretty, pretty Portuguese kids and I'm stuck in PUNE and I've never met ANY of them save the eldest boy and its just really awful that the only time I've ever wanted to see anyone thats even close to being related to me, well, I cant.

Well if you feel like sending across a hug, a new phone instead would be nice.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Within myself, I'm better

So why dont you take a ride

But I guess that too, only when I'm just a vagina.

Just a hippie masturbating 
to your psychopathic cries.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

My instincts called me for a drink and then abandoned me.

In my head I was reading a manual on
How to make Texas feel like a water-balloon, but
that's not where I live. Some days,

 you wake up feeling like red meat, the salt burning
down into you. You strip yourself bare of what remains 
of your skin to make it go away and it returns on
a sledge, down your chimney, into your socks. You 
know then- feet failing, spine dissolving, head in your hands
like the seashore you once tried to snatch at and
store for later- that everything leaks. In my head, this isn't it, red meat is
rot so lets switch to green. We can move to another city,freshly 
brewed,all the splashing and its still not Texas.My myths fail to
pull me down or even take me to the 8th floor terrace
again, my myths are starving and 

soon they will let up.My fingers, my nerves,my art,ditto.Some days
you are the last hospital wing, housing too many, the stench
of some poisoning the rest.You're a Saturday smile before 
the wasting away,that's when you break. Some days you
know your next move and then you switch positions, unaware
of still being in the same skin that crawled back on anyway.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Look who came to uproot.

It is as though I've taken up gardening full time. My art gone
out the window, it makes fine manure, works slow but
I give it a go. I sit for days under the window, shooting up
at every wink of the sun. The winds gossip and I join hands with
the hosepipe. Twice a day I dig up bones and appendices, twice a
day new ones must appear, dripping or stale,two days dead. I
miss the culinary activities, I miss my cat during his favourite part of
listlessness.I'm hunting but its still just bones, no organs showing up, no
marrow to build a beat.It is as though next, ill have them growing
out of the sound-hole, use the neck as a plough, fingers firm over
flying strings.We're making music, I tell you, but we still need
the red. You snap the fingers and nothing flows.You're still snapping
fingers, the sound of it calming you more than the birds ever helped,
and what else would we want the trees for anyway. Lets go to bed,
I say, and you're snapping fingers, too tired to dig the dead ones out.

Thursday, July 22, 2010


What other kind of sleep-walking do I need to practise, what embellishments do I add to my madness? Which is most appropriate to rub against the other, for my pride is eroding just a little slower each time. Punctuate and crosscheck. Wrap some more rags around the ticker, crosscheck, wash its feet and give it up, give up, put letting go on repeat and you can live without a care in the world.Several excuses have been used, but I'll give you the one that sells, diamond rimmed, pure platinum body, the whitest of baked lies.If only it spun a little smoother, two decades have been passed in these hitches,what are we even saying anymore, its been too long,we've come to far in to create or conquer sense now

Friday, July 16, 2010

this is exactly what i was afraid of.i knew that the moment i realise that my acquaintances from this city read this space too, i would somehow start refraining from posting. still not sure how or why, because its not as if its a personal choice, i just see patterns i wish weren't so marked in my behaviour, its very not cool.speculating on why it might have been, well, maybe because anything i churn out is so unbelievably weird ive got to be trying my BEST to be different, right, and oh long sentences of course and when would you find anything of substance anyway, why then such embellishments.
why anything when merging into,wait what do i call it, Blah, is so convenient, fun, and it works out for everybody so hurrah i guess.
(oh did i miss out how what im calling weird is actually so Boring you want to jump out of your skin and into an ocean or even a gutter would do, and oh when will i get what is really going on lulz)

the day before, a creepy grey eyed middle aged man stopped me in the middle of the road while i was walking back with a collapsing lung or something that felt like it was killing me, and said that he was stalking me and wanted to friend me. who else wants to friend me?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Saturday, July 3, 2010


From what I see, we (though I cant be sure if its the same with everybody) spend our lives gradually unlearning the heart of every matter.

Friday, July 2, 2010

The Universe, and Everything.

notice how we are more inclined
to settle for lesser and lesser
each time? that's what they want you to
do. settle. like clogs on the craters trying
to make a blown up planet less vacuous
and ugly.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

People say

look at it from this point of view. Your points of view.Ok, let us
begin.If I look at it from the 67 degrees north point of view, a range is missing, whatever happens to the Himalayas when we move to the Atlantic? From right there across the street, a firefly is missing.From yours, I lost my 3rd Grade story. And from yours, I lost my FB password. Tragedy is flowing from all points, we are all points under the same water but at varied depths. We're a part of a balloon. Everyone in this balloon has different points of view. My point of view looks at this as a balloon. From my point of view, I see something dying. In all our points of view combined, what is happening again? Where is the heavily dressed woman in her forties, where is that pet animal she stole. And then they flocked her; she played hide and seek on repeat and it was blue evenings, red meat, a fat thump when she moved. Every moment is that moment of what is happening. It is a good what is happening but

gravity is tugging harder as I say this.  People say, look at it from my
point of view. Like it's the same thing, you and I have the same
bloodgroup, the same jawline, or the same fear of water on
our feet.Look at it from my point of view, then. Look at it, pulling
at my feet, tentacles of a sea monster and I, the only point it could
grab from down there.

Monday, June 28, 2010


Once upon a time I had good, long hair. And then it reduced to 'once upon a time'.If you look at my face now, you would be looking at the face of the dying. This one time, I had a vision where I was a madman looking for a jutting piece of rock muttering 'am I really that lonely yet?' Rainclouds formed, my hands were covered in glue-skin that was safe to peel. I tried saying, 'Hello, I have a new haircut, and man do I look like a boy, would you let me sit, I think I can leave when I must, oh yes? I must hear you sing then!' I tried saying more but it only came out of my mouth to form a puddle at my feet, inviting me to drown in it. The rainclouds, the puddle, and then the fucking birds. What do you do then, where will you run, they can fly you know. You want to punctuate each sentence with panic, but how do you even do that? How do you grab your towel and how do you reach for the door? Your limbs are lighter already, the updraft under your extended glue-skin has taken you and you're with them now, not one of them, just lighter bones and still an eye out for a jutting piece of rock with a spot of sun.

Friday, June 25, 2010

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

x:  yo man
today is a very yo man day
hey who doesnt yo back on a yo man day?

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Girls looking for themselves in your eyes

sometimes, sometimes my mind is too strong
to carry on.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Birla Mandir, Kolkata.

Looks like i really enjoy doing architectural photography. I was getting the drift of this in Aurangabad earlier, when we were taken for our Socio Cultural Research trip, especially with Amish's camera, the pictures of which i have tried to snag out of his possession on several occasions, but failed.

I just noticed i had misspelt Aurangabad as AurangaBar.
So much for an attempt at seemly posts trying to hide inebriation.

Monday, June 7, 2010




Friday, June 4, 2010

Mainstream killed me

evidently, i got high and felt like a cheesy pop song today.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Monday, May 31, 2010

Feed Me Some Lovin' !

ok so this is copied, mostly, from this artwork from this book of club flyer art, but text and little things changed. done mostly for painting practice because i cannot even paint solid colours into basic shapes, yes im that sloppy with the i wanted yellowposterlikething for my room. but i LIKETHIS.
But i think i'll give it away.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

what is that

Are you happy with your frigid zone.
Today i saw Osama's picture and i tell you i hate clean shaven men.
Are you happy with seventy two horses.
are they happy in their bunny suits.
Are these really apples. 
tomorrow, lets visit a clinic and buy that shit man.
Some of the days I dont get any dreams and then I try to fill up my sleep with commercials where there's men waking up with grey hair and no pension plans
I resolve to never tell you when I'm not ok
I want to get an ocean around my eyes, lets drink.
We forget to punctuate sometimes.


so whatsup. so my boils are deflating.i want to write flash fiction but i cant.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Last time I saw people resting their heads on others' shoulders and elsewhere, saying oh my god its been ages, its been true.The shape your shoulder makes to this other person's head.And you know there's only one other person, holding this horrible spot that hits your boil but you know exactly what you're doing holding them in there, though you don't know what you're doing. Ok bye,you say then.It is love.

It is Sneha.

I'm Still Holding Up The Sky For You

 By Mary Meriam

I’m still here holding up the sky for you
Bawling this heart-to-heart goodbye for you

I’m still the child who cooks the stony stew
The chickadee who learned to fly for you

She looks so rich, her face so fresh and new
You’re more than friends, I catch her sigh for you

Do I sound bitter? Am I green or blue?
Don’t leave again! Don’t make me cry for you!

I send some poems to the Screw Review
I sit around and wait and die for you

The marvel of my muse is constant, true
With dedicated lust, I try for you

Because it had been a while since I'd found a piece of simple, direct, formal verse that I like.
This, I found on this literary journal.

So what's up. I have many boils on my body. The mammoth one inside my nostril bled itself out like a lover, and that is the only time it acted like one anyway. I am an angry volcano that Just Cannot Erupt. Incapable of  what should be my natural course of action, I fume and boil over and what simmers inside of me possibly finds vents on my slope and then there's little amounts of poison oozing out intermittently but then it just Keeps Happening, Goddammit. 

Start wearing Purple, wearing Purple.
Start wearing Purple for me now?

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Yellow, and other facts about Ether's Backpack.

Yellow is the most important, the most pervading, almost like the Blue when you look at Planet Earth from Jupiter, only more thorough at it.Sometimes I wonder what if the Blue were Yellow, and the Earth looked icteric? It would then be easier to imagine the planet as a smiley.There's a purple smiley fixed to the outermost pocket of the backpack,sitting there like a pink bow on a Poodle.They say the hair can twist into cords and continue to grow if the Poodle coat isn't brushed constantly.In order to brush it constantly, the bow ought to be removed from time to time, but Ether never removes the smiley, and that brings to mind an image of an unseemly, tangled, coarsely coated Poodle you don't want to be toting around with your books and make up and food and drumsticks in.Ether doesn't have drumsticks, nor chopsticks, nor dandiya sticks, and the last time she ate cheese sticks, they reminded her of dogfood, even though she's never even smelt any variety of those, ever.Pictures of all her favourite foods give Ether's backpack a much stronger base than yours.Sometimes during her meals when she cant remember how the food looked before she swallowed 3/4th of it in a go, she likes to want to reach into her bag for a reference picture, and then complain about fatigue,following which she'd segue into a little rant about Thinspiration, but all she actually does is finish the food, take the damn backpack and carelessly thud past any other backpacks in sight.The backpack has seen more cities than Ether has, but it tells no stories and cracks no jokes, and you can bet it's never taken any pictures either, so you can never tell how.Ether doesn't know this, but if she did, she wouldn't be sad. Ether's backpack is misunderstood by most people, but i must tell you that it's only trying to spread yellow cheer, much like an epidemic.Ether doesn't know this, but if she did, she wouldn't care.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

hello! to high and dry



Wednesday, May 12, 2010

She makes me feel like i could be a tower

a big strong tower yeah

(words from the lyrics to Suddenly I See- K.T.Tunstall. mixedmedia collage.product of summerrestlessness and extremeboredom.doesnt like daddy.bites mommy sometimes.)

Monday, May 10, 2010

Want of the day.

I want

To be a streetlight.

Or a kiss under a streetlight.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

I am crazy.

But what I should be, is a Suicide Expert. Should start a Suicide Hotline, give Suicide advise and publish books on The Gruelling Way to Suicide, name myself the SUICIDE GURU and help all you little suicidal bunnies find your smashing ending.


Tuesday, May 4, 2010

My life is a pathetic little circus again, and this time there's just dying elephants and accident prone gymnasts. I have in effect turned into a completely obsessive eccentric, and its not all comic anymore.

In other news, I just realised a few things about myself.Like I don't really have preferences for this particular TYPE of ...things. Like, Irish men or dark chocolate (God, I LOVE dark chocolate but will gobble with the same amount of delectation when there's milk chocolates in question).But I am extremely choosy about particular cases all the same.

Also, I dig the idea of killing people so much that I seem to have recurring dreams about it, complete with all the chasing and screaming and murderous facial expressions etc. All that's missing is the concluding spurt of blood, my brain, well what do I say. It's a smart little bugger that knows its limits. But the following mornings have always been wrought with insane urges to really really stuff some knives into some chests and tummies and faces (try stabbing faces with multiple cutting instruments in your dreams, kiddos. epic gore, that) and pull out intestines and wrap them around some bleeding, mutilated faces. This is a morning for such lighthearted foolery, care to join me?

Blog hopping may be fun, but getting carried away and blog HUNTING and reading those which really, really should be made off limits for you (like say your Maths teacher's fantasy blog, which is just an example VERY distant from the cause of my woes at the moment) can make you want to do the things described in the earlier paragraph to yourself. I wish I had something to take my mind off these things but well, I'm at home. I do these things to get away from the oppressive home environment in the first place, and I just happened to be seeking comfort in the wrong places of late.

Plus, there's ulcers in my MOUTH that take the cake. : X

On a slightly cheerier note, I am rediscovering my love for Roald Dahl and Black n White movies and ruining artwork (well at least I do START with something now, and instead of the abandoning, I'm doing the ruining which has got to be a learning experience in some distant world I do not seem to be in myself). I'm growing a little too tired of bitterness flowing to my fingertips so I think I should stop typing immediately, so, so long and thanks for all the intestines.

Monday, May 3, 2010


i just love that face. :)

cold paper, pale eyes
this art is my demise.

Friday, April 30, 2010

But the birds stop singing too.

moments of despair and ugly art and.

and i wonder what person from Singapore reads my blog. all these cruel people, never leaving comments. :/

Banal update in verse.

tonight is just a dull fullmoon
i hated this day's afternoon
all i have done this dismal day
is watch this psychotic cartoon.

around midday i realised
my tummy's grown a bit in size
but it also seemed a little blue
and made me let out painful cries.

i then grew calmer by twilight
'cause i liked it when cinnamon died
and when my mom said 'TELLS A TAIL!'
i felt heaven and earth collide.

dinner was such a sad affair
it made me pull out half my hair
so strode off i, without a word
without a bite, without a care.

and if you swear you'll clap this time
and you agree to wind my chime
i'll promise, and try sticking to
the promise to not ever rhyme.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

a picture

that tells a tail?


Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Because im just stating facts.

Last time i did, (facts about another person that were allegedly stated 'unpleasantly'on the blog; about Devika and the whole Kelsey,dA, plagiarism deal, im really not doing this thinking of how to be politically correct right now, so please let me be unrefined and blunt,with names and everything else, this is my personal space for god's sake) it created trouble for people, im told. gave my blog undue publicity too, most of the feeds would show traffic only to that post, and triggered bitter words from anonymous people, sad personal shit and im losing my patience beating about the bush, but yeah, so thing is, im not sorry i wrote that post.

I'm not sorry i brought it to light (whatever it was, intentional or unintentional), for the bad punctuation in the post, for being politically incorrect if i might've been, i was doing what i thought i was ought to, and im sure i wasn't thinking too wrongly, but i have taken off that post.

Why, i could've removed it and kept quiet about it, but i didn't want to, because i wanted to be able to explain this to myself, at least. The reason i did it is because i was told( very straightforwardly, and the lack of a cushion of any amount of  hearsay made it come as a major surprise, by the way) that it not only still seriously affects her own, but also her family's peace of mind.The comments lala. Look, i have nothing personal against you. you cheated, i told. I catch anyone at it i tell because im a bigmouth like that. I didnt mean to brew hatred or open a common forum to gather around and bitch, for whatever reason, none of my concern. And THAT seemed to be the only purpose that the blogpost had been serving after the initial 'OMG-REALLY!'s and i didnt think having it around was doing anyone any good, so why not flush out the hate. I did what might do someone less harm, so there, i did what i did.

And with all due respect dudes(themdudes) ,im not taking this one down, not even for the lawyers.
(All in good humour, hohoho? Thank you.)

Saturday, April 24, 2010

My cities turn blue

and are failing without you

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

dirty old wallet oozing spleen

so i do this when im depressed. it looks a little cleaner than in the picture,everything is a little more crisp after final touches.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

what is that bad picture

one of these days, though

 I'll walk you past these windows,


I'll walk you through the trees;

I'll walk you to wherever 

gets you weakest in the knees.

Friday, April 16, 2010

I'm going to tell you one thing I know for certain about myself- allergic or not, I will always hate vodka. Today is very hot like every other day now but today I had to walk to college and stay there for 2 goddamned hours just to get very worked up about every other person's attitude towards the upcoming jury AND one permission letter. Too hot for people so I asked them to not meet me, this one time that I had any at all. Ho Ho. What is with me and the persistent non existence of my social life. Its too hot even for question marks and right punctuation,and I really dont need your answers.So then I came back to my room, danced to Belly Dancer and imagined to have no self respect at all so I can make myself type this out. Right now I cannot make myself carry on with life with the same conviction as always (conviction you will never find reflected in my attitude, no, its all in my head, its the secret life of Malter Witty) because I cant have my poison, nobody is willing to go score. What does it mean to have a resolution and stick to it man, I will never know.

Besides that, this is good. Tomorrow im going to visit an orphanage, as if the disabled home I keep visiting wasnt fucking with my brain enough. I'm hoping it gets done with without me feeling a strange obligation to go back there, I hope that place is a corporate bitchhole, I hope I come back with something to crib about, ready with words and jabs at whatever i see and not wrapped in thick layers of silence. What i really want to do is be a bitch, go clubbing and break an ankle. But no the whole point of this rant is, vodka sucks, baba chai.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

i've been a drooling, irritable, sick and difficult 5 year old lately.or like im nursing withdrawal symptoms like a clutz. nautanki, bilkul. if i were to say something to my mom now, i'd prolly say KIMMIN CHAI.kimmin debe,kimmin? ekta duto teente paanchta chota? and i think i'd just scream at everything else. i dont have kimmins, keede kha gaye mere kimmins. kinta paisa waste. kitne kimmins waste. kimmins are kishmishes for the 5yearoldme. kimmins are raisins and i want raisins and mango juice for 7 bucks. or 5. these things disappear exactly when you need them to be around and suddenly, you go from being Clementine to Joel. pulling at memories where you can hide what you needed to let go of a minute back. but im not running fast enough, all this sickness and tiny 5 yearold legs and no raisins what to do kya karoon

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

i just realised that what i want to do/have/feel and what i should do/have/feel had never created a conflict until i started taking my own decisions. what is that, immaturity?

Sunday, April 4, 2010

i am now making a feeling

as a beginner.
nothing fancy.

Friday, April 2, 2010

When you're sappy and you know it, save a life.

sometimes when i breathe, halfway through letting out a breath, i breathe in sharply again and then let go of it.
smart way to stone, terrible way to live.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

The Adventure of the Runaway Cauliflower.

So once there was a cauliflower
growing in a field
while growing it had realised
it didn't wanna be your meal.
The epiphany caused it to take
the causeway and escape
It walked many a hardened land
till it reached a far off cave.

Now just as it was thinking it had
found a safe refuge
along came a cave man-
he was hungry and was huge!
To save itself, the cauliflower
crawled behind a rock
while the caveman tried to hunt down
any birds that would come flock.

Right after he had left
came a cavalcade of men
who seemed in need of food to eat
before they reached their zen.
The cauliflower, by now,
had grown weary of its nook
so it found itself a cauldron,and
as safe it was mistook.
While it sat inside the vessel,
the men had disappeared;
And entering the scene, was
a witch all veggies feared.
Her cauldron she then spotted,
approaching it she cried-
'Atlas! I do have cheese, but
still no veggies to be fried!'
Then cautiously it peeped out,
little Cauli, from within-
The witch stared right into its eyes
and (now barely) off-white skin.
'Aha!' she said, 'now i can make
myself cauliflower cheese!'
But before she could say 'Fire!'
Something behind yelled 'Freeze!'

From within the cauldron, Cauli
thought aloud 'Oh jeez!'
'Its the leafy CBI officers
and they got guns to squeeze!'
The witch's wand and officers' guns
sprayed pesticides and spells
But then approached the Cauli Witch
to sound the vamp's death knell.

It snuck and made its way ahead
and bit hard at her leg
both witches shrieked one final shriek
and then the vamp- she fell!

The veggie-scarer, now, to a pale
cauliflower was reduced
while officers sprayed stuff to
keep her reflexes confused.

Climbing out the cauldron,
Cauli then proposed a feast
what was left of the vamp was to be
their own special treat!
They cooked her with cheese and cayenne
in the cauldron she once owned
Raised a toast to the end of the
witchy terror that they'd known.

Now, to hear the moral
of the story you must swarm-
'Daane Daane Pe Likha Hai
Khaane waale ka naam'.


be not harsh. written very quickly for a college assignment (which, btw, was to use at least 10 words out of a GIVEN pair of pages off the dictionary and making a story out of it and illustrating it in 12 panels {which, i have not done yet no im doomed indeed}. i just wrote it in verse because i think i was high and wanted to rhyme because i cant generally page had cauliflower, cauldron, causeway, CBI, etc etc. )

Sunday, March 21, 2010

When i love you i think i'm making it up because i am.

I fall asleep earlywith half my stationery around my head, socks on the window sill, grip at the edge of a waking dream. What has this done to me- i wake up with a start at 4:44 AM to look for your words stuck somewhere in the telegraph line, hanging like pigeons dead from the shock of a spark,letters in a puddle hidden from sunlight.When i am in love with you, i am always pulling down my cheeks, i quibble about the way you love, i smell my shoes in my sleep. I'm taking too many showers, im taking too much time to listen to a song, im taking too little into consideration and too much to heart.

When i am in love with you, i want to know that im getting flowers next time.My head sticks out the window and there's nothing coming to kill me.I cry too much and too little, i smile like it's a daydream.

I am a naked heartbeat, let it not be a daydream.

thats something i wrote when i was very high and would not have left the depths of my gay purple journal under normal circumstances. i just found it two days back,and i dont have any memory of having written it.but its here because you should know and because i want to fix things.

so there is a love so strong that you mostly tend to love all wrong because its just too much.

Friday, March 19, 2010

is there a love so strong that you'd love all wrong?

Monday, March 15, 2010

Hello, Lovelies.

jojo where we smoked

mahima in the bus
overexposed weirdexpression lady from a moving bus
nimbooman outside bibi ka makbara ok i dont know how to spellit.
gagan in the bus
anshul with chai.
satpathy with jojo in background.
 harixander soopertramp.
shoot! vasundhara, vipin, and vishal under deadtree.
punit, outside our research cave 
(Cave One, Ajanta)

so those were people pictures from the college trip to ajanta and ellora that i probably wont put up elsewhere :D

and in case you were wondering why i dont write anymore, the answer lies in my wordpress blog. garbage isnt very pleasant to step on so i keep it away from the most stepped on site.on an updatey note, first year in college almost over. past few months in the hostel have been brilliant mostly because my roommate decided to unofficially move into her friend's room which leaves me ALONE in the WHOLE BEEG ROOM WITH TWO BEDS, TWO TABLES, TWO CHAIRS and a clean loo.solitude and clean bathroom and complete privacy. sigh. next year is bound to be different, im bound to get new roommate, and bound to begin is a new era of cribbage but ill enjoy this while it a little screwed when it comes to work and i feel like im going nowhere in life and i dont draw as much anymore. oh and the amount i drift/have been drifting is unhealthy. gets me into trouble with people but as long as i get by, who gives a fuck.

and get by, i do.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

yes, ok. so what.

i want this on my wall.and on my grandkids' walls if and when i have have a nice life,bro.

and yes thats my new haircut. jeezuzzzz.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

and the birds are singing...

I can't control you, i dont know you well. These are the reasons i think that we're ill.

.. to calm us down.

(drawing after months, inspired by the song My Manic and I by Laura Marling. Thank you Chiquita.)