Guess Who

O+

2012-01-15T22:35:00.000+05:30

There are times I stop thinking, cause I can't think or I'd rather milk a cow than think at the given moment but is thinking about all things beautiful to distract myself the easy way out, or positive attitude?

2012-01-12T11:58:00.002+05:30

Some shabbily executed packaging design (CollegeAssignment) work on my window sill. Not a very happy time, but the owls make me hoot. :)
And I just noticed, 99 followers! One more and I'll have a beer and urge you to join me. The dying blog thanks you for visiting if you're reading this.

But how come nobody talkstomeeeeeeecommenttttplease.

20 rupees each

2011-12-04T23:08:00.001+05:30

Each clicked the other.

WHAT

2011-11-25T22:26:00.001+05:30

WHY THE FUCK WERE WE WATCHING THAT

I have a plan.

2011-11-18T10:59:00.001+05:30

But.

While scheming this, I'm dreaming that
Still prancing in a yellow hat
Through fields of riled up lines of rain
This noon of glowing window pain.

Today I got to know that my dad wasn't kidding when he once called me partially disabled

2011-10-31T00:41:00.000+05:30

Because apparently when you think, no matter how much- too much, less than they think you think- then you're bloody retarded. Ok, I'm being a fuckball, now? You're lucky I'm taking this sportingly or this place would be a- I dont know think of something very dismally fucked up- by now. But here you have a slightly obtuse and slightly lame graphic to stare at.

Also, because my madness comes in different fucking flavours. Here. Enjoy, Fuckers.

On a serious note, you're reading the blog of this person deemed unfit for normal human interactions, so yeah, don't tell me I didn't tell you, and you lucky fuckers who don't know me are lucky fuckers.Anonyms turned out to be the only smart ones around here. Kudos.

note to self and those who need it

2011-10-25T23:37:00.000+05:30

2011-10-24T20:02:00.000+05:30

Nobody can be with me unless they've been through my misery and no one can be with you unless they've caused yours. But sometimes I wish we just ached right.

Some three years back

2011-10-24T12:31:00.001+05:30

I was in what felt like prison. School work, No play, absolutely no time outside the house because my mother likes to have me around to shoot her bullets at, and I cursed and I swore and I stayed locked in my room recording whatever went on inside my head, puked it on paper or forced it down the throat of my cybertunnel. The faint light at the end of it being the day I'm released from that only escape to the world and unleash all that beauty onto the world while I'm taking it in (little did I know then of how little that would do for me).In the meantime, what helped me get a tighter, surer grip on my knees and a clearer vision of me stretching my limbs out as a woman once I made my way out of the cocoon was a little bit of Bukowski, and her:

http://writerigniter.wordpress.com/

I kept her a secret. You wouldn't find her linked on my blog, you wouldn't hear me going, hey did you read her last? And if you lived where I lived, you sure as hell wouldn't have stumbled upon her while you were busy listening to vH1 or reading the last book you heard of being made into a high budget movie. Because nofuckingONE deserved to be let into that part of the world, or let out to, cause whoever I was around wasn't worth it, not one of them. I felt selfish and I didn't give a shit.

It was a way of life and I didn't even realise that I have a life,that WAS some life- me, my bloody room and visions of sweaty workmen outside my window at summertime and other seemingly irrelevant things, my organs flowing right out of my fingers once I started feeling like her hair was my hair. I had been introduced to her when someone commented on one of my poems saying it has a similar tone to her writing, but after I read her I felt like it should've been an insult to her, really. I fought with my parents for the money to buy one of her books- things are expensive for us when they're measured in dollars and you're Indian and belong to my family and you aren't really employed to begin with, but now there's a give away. And I've never wanted anything this bad- that book, and her other books, except for maybe to let out my music but since that isn't happening, the book if it came to me would be the only thing that can get me out of this comatose state of MINDLESS EXISTENCE.

Last thing I said to myself which seemed to sound like me was- you can't write poetry when its kissing you in the neck, which may or may not be true but I'm not even sure of how I feel or what I believe anymore. Yes I wish to go into hibernation again with her book, and you would too if you read her. Go check her out and while you're at it, beg her to send the book my way.

One night with Vector

2011-10-16T00:21:00.000+05:30

So last night when I couldn't sleep because of The Shining (for which I have taken up the Herculean task of making a title sequence for an assignment.cause hell, I'm just stupid and like to fuck myself over with imposifuckingble goals), I tried making some icons for my Mac but well they turned out too illustrative and, uh, nothing smart, as I went ahead with each. But well, here they are.

Maybe I'll continue some other insomnistic night. Insomnistic sounds like such a efgdfgfd word.

New art up on Tumblr and AAAAAAAA NH7 IS COMMMMINGGGG! WHO WANTS TO VISIT ME IN POONA AROUND THAT TIME? :D I'll pretend there's a crowd of 'ME!'s on my plate right now, be all yaw come on lets hav the funz but fuck how depressing is no readership.

74.8

2011-10-05T00:22:00.000+05:30

So Pink Floyd brought me a thought, because I'm listening to it while reading a random article, and it gets me in the zonosphere so. Every time I'm reading anything and it has a numerical figure I get stuck on it for about 5 seconds trying to subconsciously memorise it, failing, so staying there until I realise I really don't need to, this isn't the night of cramming before a three a.m. breakdown followed by early morning panic attacks. What does this make me? A nervous Ex-Nerd with her brain up her large intestine?

ALSO, if you care to check the photoblog, a gorgeous Persian Bella is waiting to pounce on you.

What would your revelations post be about today?

Things Received - Behavioral patterns.

2011-09-17T22:45:00.001+05:30

Lets Lick Through Kolkata - Work Update

2011-09-10T22:32:00.001+05:30

One spread. And I'm dying.

And no. you can't steal, copy paste or your karmatic chain will strangle you.

Fuck you

2011-09-03T18:58:00.000+05:30

I do not care about the goddammed lightsource.

I feel ancient

2011-09-02T22:48:00.001+05:30

And I'm losing followers. Teardrop.

No, not here.

2011-09-01T19:01:00.000+05:30

Ever get the feeling you're just on the wrong side of the window? The whole of the rest is yours but that's because you're locked out of what was to be your haven. That feeling, you know.

2011-08-30T18:43:00.003+05:30

The stye is no ordinary stye

2011-08-28T20:19:00.003+05:30

If I were a Self Portrait,
with a stye along my glare.

Its not like I don't remember how to think anymore, I just don't remember to remember what I think and am incapable of recording it now. I sit blue throated surrounded by blueteeth.
How do you even say that really. Bluetooths?

I have a stye today.

2011-08-28T08:25:00.001+05:30

Humphrey Bogart from last year

2011-08-11T23:06:00.002+05:30

which ended up looking like a cross between him and dev anand or someone. I'm sick of grammar.
This was college work.

He said today is a big day, and then we fought again.

2011-08-11T22:48:00.000+05:30

Today, I did a shoot.

Make up and styling: Komal.

Model: Simran.

^ I HATE that format. I don't like following protocol but I do.

Stupid lump of Stupid

2011-08-04T08:49:00.000+05:30

I lost a few of my happymade sketches, and that makes me angry.
But what makes me so sick in the stomach that I could evaporate out of sheer sickinthestomachness, is that I've lost so many beautiful people to my stupidity that its coming down on me now like an ugly illconstructed building without the slightest movement in the tectonic plates. God. Oh godgod whatddoooidooooo.

2011-07-26T07:55:00.001+05:30

The return of the sentence.

2011-07-25T16:54:00.006+05:30

I think I'm just about regaining my ability to string a comprehensible sentence together without pausing to admire a tree, but the immaculacy of thought itself is far from being achieved. There's still a passive film of mist all over the insides, and no nosy, toothy, bristly instrument can help clear it, but I'm sure shaking it off will gradually get easier now that I've identified acknowledged it as alien.
But once that's off, I'm gonna need some sunshine and some reli spray for the back.Which is fine, reminds me I've still got a spine.

2011-07-19T08:12:00.002+05:30

Priyanka

doo dull

2011-07-17T11:48:00.002+05:30

Maybe some colour?

2011-07-10T21:58:00.000+05:30

Poster for the Event which I designed the poster for but never got to know if it was used.

2011-06-28T21:04:00.004+05:30

For a Blues music night concert thing I was told.Makes me sad that I dont knowwww.

What happens when June is just a metaphor?

2011-06-16T15:56:00.002+05:30

And now when the rain comes, we can be faithful.

June is just a metaphor with your leg around his neck,sharing his
hollows. It is a month of smooth, raw death but June is
just a poetic element that is a cave. Its a place where the
lines of the song play

when they get back, the rolling stops;
there's no one to stay with

in your head.Your Rooms collide- what happens when

we're like the nudists, the nudist of all

being June- nothing's bare.You touch it when it falls like
a dream around your hair-the dead that never saved you from
rain.Its a month of finding yourself in the puddles, but

June is just a metaphor which spells listen to me, wears a
spacesuit like it could float away to eclipse for real.Like
it could stick its head into the fridge and change
its name without getting soaked till the knee.Like the storm
that threatens to stop the music but doesn't; the calm-

it is that month.But June is just a metaphor,on a torn
piece of soul with the only blooming hollows, lying
facedown; on your cheek; inbetween your finger-joints
when you can't write it down. June remains
a metaphor while love comes to you through T9 as
a typographic error.

2011-06-09T20:47:00.000+05:30

painting on scrap paper (hence the creases)

Grey mountain, Blue love

2011-06-09T20:05:00.003+05:30

Alone is the only answer. When the mornings are beautiful, it isn't too hard to breathe.

FUCK YEAH?

2011-06-09T17:25:00.005+05:30

Fuck no, I have not the slightest clue what my head was doing when I made this.Funny thing is, I started off trying to draw a friend's Facebook DP and it wound up this way (nothing like the dp minus the glasses mind you; and the hair maybe) . I'm not even sure if it is apparently offensive, that's how clueless I am.

Still very far away and inaccessible

2011-05-20T16:23:00.001+05:30

HAHAHANCOCK
What does it feel like to be the first person to be thought of, to be cast in a dream, to be set apart for this completely bewildering .. force, is the only word that fits. I get HD tv and tell you a joke about it in my head and I'm really, really funny. How is it that there is not ONE person who finds the same things funny as me.Something is wrong with me lately.Also I just couldn't care less about incoherence.

I DONT HAVE A WAY WITH WORDS ANYMORE

2011-05-16T01:22:00.004+05:30

BUT I HAVE A SHOVEL, OR CLAWS, SOMETIMES I CAN'T TELL ANYMORE.
IF NOT A PATH,I SAID, I WILL DIG MYSELF A BURROW.OR SOMETHING.IF I END UP CRAWLING BACK IN TIME, I THINK I'LL FIND MYSELF AS AN EGYPTIAN
PRINCESS, YOU KNOW. TO BE SEXUAL IS NOT TO BE ON THE PROWL OR IN THE
MARKET,

YOU KNOW. I MIGHT BE A COMMODITY AT A HANDLOOM EXPO OR SOMETHING,
YOU KNOW,GETTING LIKE SHOPLIFTED BY A GIRL IN HUGE ROUND GLASSES.
I NEED TO STOP DOING WHAT MAKES ME THINK MIGHT BE
DOING WRONG TO MYSELF AS THE RECEIVER CAUSE IF I'M REALLY CLAWING THAT
HARD, YOU SAY, WORMHOLES APPEAR, TIME TRAVELS, AND I MAY BE THE SHOE,
NEXT MORNING. WHERE IS THIS GOING.

WHY DOES IT ALWAYS END IN EUPHEMISMS
FOR WHERE IS THIS GOING
(BEING BLATANT FOR THE FIRST TIME
IN A MILLION WORMHOLES)
BECAUSE ITS TOO DARK IN THE BURROWS, AND I REALLY
CAN'T TELL.

PLANKTON

2011-04-19T22:15:00.002+05:30

is my new favourite word. Reached home last evening to fall asleep for more than 12 hours after an hourlong rant about how ugly I am (which is so ugly, that my mom would rather look at Radhika on Zee TV).

Tell me, would you be more disgusted if you saw me lick the rim of a glass after taking a sip- would you rather I let you encounter a drool-thread because I didn't take necessary precautions because they don't tally with your set of etiquettes? Honestly, if there's bad happening, maybe, just MAYBE its because you've just been salvaged from worse.Especially if I'm involved, just nothing is bad enough to be the worst that can come,kids.

A dick, however, would be it.

What is happening in my life?

2011-04-16T22:33:00.000+05:30

EXACTLY. that face.

NEWWORKTHING

2011-04-13T00:06:00.000+05:30

Using Adobe Illustrator for the first time:

DO NOT STEAL. made this one delirious insomniastic night. you lick?

Stapletooth.

2011-04-11T18:10:00.001+05:30

The moment you start feeling in control, you start feeling better.
Also, if you remember this principle applies to everyone,
you'll know how to start being in control.

Also if you don't care about either, doesn't stop you from blogging about it.

livebrush when bored

2011-04-07T16:13:00.000+05:30

Eyespice

2011-03-12T01:11:00.006+05:30

Edited version of what I did for a class assignment last semester.

If I ever write a book called Collarbones, this will be the cover.

And I will link to reference image (which was something beautiful from deviant art), the minute I find it.

Thanks BROTHAZ.

And I'm least myself with you. You're sitting next to me, and there's more fire when I lean my head on the bean bag. At least I'm not looking for bear suits anymore. At least in my head, there's a rectangle that moves with my head in which the sky is shifting shape ever so slightly. So its not so bad.

Not so bad.

I really don't know why I'm doing this.

2011-03-07T03:57:00.002+05:30

Maybe this will change soon. But for now, here's the pretend jungle.
I want to keep the background AND make the sidebar readable and I'm not sure at all about how to do it. Imagine me with my head on fire arms flailing trying to swim in an ocean of dragon pus. THAT'S how it makes me feel.

EDIT: WOOHOOOOO I'VE DONE IT well its better than how it was last so, hello, welcome, I hope you're comfortable. I'm going to make this a very happy place. I'm going to make it bracelets out of stolen beads and stainless steel nuts. Its going to be fun, I promise. I will even pour you some banana milkshake at regular intervals if you stay, tempting HUH HUH

When alone is hip, I'm hot.

2011-02-20T03:17:00.000+05:30

Here's a secret, sometimes, I'm a terrific dancer, and I'm just so glad you all are too nice to contradict that even if you wanted to (in which case, by the way, you just haven't seen me dance for real, bro) and the first song I really felt connected to in terms of dance, despite my years of training in classical bharatnatyam etc (no, I'm not making this up) wasssssssssss

ANGEL, BY LIONEL RICHIE. So everytime I have my wine and my empty room, I somehow seem to go back to it, and I'm happier than I can ever remember being and isn't that just a beautiful feeling :)

Birds and people and Birds and me.

2011-02-19T23:16:00.007+05:30

Its this very heavy feeling of restlessness washing over me every now and then. How restlessness can feel heavy or wash over anything is beyond me but yes, its happening, and its not been pleasant. I've been feeling weird about myself, about having a thousand blogs and letting each one die, about the spectacle that's rendered me blind ( my spectacles disappeared from my room without a fucking sign) and there's just this sense of unease which I can't seem to snap out of. I got a second piercing on my left ear (randomly, on impulse) and for a while it seemed like its going to be fine but smothering affection has literally fucked me in the ear. How do you blame anyone for that kind of a thing. I don't know. I dont quite love the pictures but I wanted to put stuff up here so that. Throw me a shovel and I'll dig my own bones.

I don't know why I said that.

Sunday

2011-01-31T03:31:00.000+05:30

Ridiculous one at that. Woke up at 7 in the morning as if to start digging organs, the bones disappearing to make way.Wash clothes,wash the money in the pockets, wash the shopping lists, wash the tobacco.Put on my headphones and the song screamed, higher! Higher! I wanted to wear hunting boots and take off, travel guide left behind in the cocoon.I wanted to levitate, watch a movie, say- 'I'm going to tell you why and you will believe me'. Or juggle. Or build a living room full of wine, dancing, making love on the carpet. Or the couch. Or at the foot of the TV cabinet while the Sensex reaches its highpoint. Or throw myself at the black and white on the soft-board knowing that I am going to be closer than this.

But all I did was not get drunk or jump off a building onto a tampoline or fix the petrol issue.

But my hair, he said, was like his face was on fire.

Oh, that can't be a good thing.

Why not, he said, and that was that.

So, yes lets update this space.

2011-01-25T22:23:00.001+05:30

I want to do crazy things to my blog but I've never been lazier.And I kinda like this lazy.I have realised that the television is super important to keep me from stagnance, in the absence of its constant senseless buzzing in the background, I just cannot function as a proactive human being. Calm doesn't agree with my system unless I'm stoned out of my wits or something.Thankfully, I also stumbled upon a tv in the hostel basement where I dont have to fight off people or have them constantly change chanels, plus there's a huge platform at a safe distance from the tv where I can spread my shit around and work while the tv's in full blast, very neat arrangement that.I like saying tv a lot is why I keep bringing it up in conversation even when you're say talking about the super important presentation we must give in by tomorrow. Who cares when I can break into TV!

In other news, I have started drawing women again.
The weird part is, in all senses of the term. Ahem. But when have we ever minded attention?

I have So Much More to tell you.

2011-01-09T12:36:00.004+05:30

Wake up to a morning full of the feeling of letting go. If it wasn't pleasant, you must've been indifferent but there's always that feeling in your stomach- of having missed breakfast again, a starving chuckle. Suddenly you start trying hard to get your punctuation right and you realise you've killed it in your head because it had too many groping hands.I have done this with a volcano on my face,feet webbed, the weight of an earthquake in my chest.But I have to tell you, this is not important.Your hands flow like slow motion autumn leaves and that solves everything.

steps away from a heartbreak

2010-12-13T09:37:00.002+05:30

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 still.talk 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 new-age cyber pyramid and spend the

rest of your live'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.All you can do is

Be hospitable and this will leave

too.

I'm exhausted.

2010-12-11T00:12:00.003+05:30

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

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

2010-11-26T04:25:00.004+05:30

CAUSE I WANNA FEEL FANCY AT THE BEGINNING OF 20 WITH

ELABORATE LURES, PRETEND 80s HAIRDOS,

WITH A THIRD EYE AND CHOKING,WITH

MORE NOSTRILS MORE FLEGM MORE TEETH AND SYMMETRY

OR JUST BETTER OFF.

AUR PIMPAL BHI YAAR.

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

2010-11-26T03:00:00.022+05:30

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.

blogger has

2010-11-25T23:14:00.000+05:30

something called 'Undelete this blog' for deleted blogs.

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

I HAVE REALISED

2010-11-20T09:22:00.001+05:30

THAT ALL I WANTED TO DO IS TO REINVENT MYSELF AS A SUNRISE AND I NEEDN'T ESCAPE MY SUNSET AND MY DIRTY LAUNDRY.
SO I'LL BE HERE STILL, NO DELETION.

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

NOTICE THIS PLEASE :)

2010-11-09T13:22:00.000+05:30

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 :)

THIS BLOG IS CLOSING DOWN

2010-11-03T23:53:00.000+05:30

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.

Its when my stagger comes in rhyme.

2010-10-28T21:33:00.002+05:30

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.

2010-10-28T21:11:00.001+05:30

As an independent individual I am good, otherwise I am not, no matter how good the Otherwise may be.

2010-10-27T22:10:00.002+05:30

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

WITH DAAAAAAIIIIIMONDSSSSS

2010-10-26T04:44:00.007+05:30

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. :/

And she's real tired hey

2010-10-22T09:21:00.002+05:30

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.

Should've Made a Deal

2010-10-12T23:55:00.001+05:30

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.

About the Younger Man / Conjugal extinction

2010-10-05T22:35:00.004+05:30

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

2010-10-05T18:05:00.000+05:30

Well it's a photo and photos suck but what the hell

(and that's me, right there oh yes)

2010-09-25T22:24:00.001+05:30

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

What one must read

2010-09-21T22:18:00.002+05:30

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.

I'M TALKING TOO MUCH AND ABOUT TOO MANY THINGS I THINK ITS JUST ABOUT TOO MUCH YEAH.

always, first times.

2010-09-12T03:01:00.000+05:30

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.

:)

2010-09-03T09:26:00.002+05:30

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.

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

2010-09-02T19:17:00.000+05:30

I talk out loud like you're still around.

2010-08-30T08:12:00.001+05:30

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.

hoho.

that's me right there.

2010-08-28T19:12:00.002+05:30

Sleeping Pattern

2010-08-25T08:06:00.001+05:30

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

Brain-dead.

2010-08-24T14:52:00.001+05:30

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.

2010-08-21T01:52:00.005+05:30

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 clichéd 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.

Yawn.

2010-08-18T08:21:00.010+05:30

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.

Within myself, I'm better

2010-08-15T11:23:00.005+05:30

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.

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

2010-08-10T23:36:00.005+05:30

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.

Look who came to uproot.

2010-07-23T08:34:00.003+05:30

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.

Heavyweight

2010-07-22T01:12:00.004+05:30

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

2010-07-16T20:29:00.003+05:30

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?

2010-07-07T01:13:00.005+05:30

Observation

2010-07-03T17:17:00.004+05:30

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.

The Universe, and Everything.

2010-07-02T23:10:00.000+05:30

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.

People say

2010-06-29T12:42:00.006+05:30

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.

Bluebird.

2010-06-28T13:41:00.002+05:30

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 a 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.

i could be music, but

2010-06-25T11:33:00.000+05:30

2010-06-23T01:14:00.000+05:30

x: yo man

today is a very yo man day

hey who doesnt yo back on a yo man day?

Girls looking for themselves in your eyes

2010-06-20T10:47:00.000+05:30

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

2010-06-10T12:04:00.003+05:30

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.

AHAN AHAN

2010-06-07T20:27:00.004+05:30

BEE-KHAUZ!

YEAH BAIBEH XD

Mainstream killed me

2010-06-04T23:01:00.002+05:30

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

2010-06-03T12:25:00.002+05:30

Feed Me Some Lovin' !

2010-05-31T15:53:00.001+05:30

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 brush.plus i wanted yellowposterlikething for my room. but i LIKETHIS.

But i think i'll give it away.

2010-05-27T23:26:00.000+05:30

what is that

2010-05-26T19:23:00.013+05:30

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.

2010-05-24T18:59:00.008+05:30

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

2010-05-24T14:57:00.002+05:30

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.

SO WILL YOU
Start wearing Purple, wearing Purple.
Start wearing Purple for me now?

Yellow, and other facts about Ether's Backpack.

2010-05-23T12:50:00.013+05:30

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.

hello! to high and dry

2010-05-16T00:21:00.003+05:30

MYYYYYYYYYYY HEAVY HEART
SINKS DEEEEEEP
                            DOWN
                                          UN-
                                                  DER

you.

She makes me feel like i could be a tower

2010-05-12T22:25:00.001+05:30

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.)

Want of the day.

2010-05-10T20:53:00.000+05:30

I want

To be a streetlight.

Or a kiss under a streetlight.

I am crazy.

2010-05-06T12:19:00.000+05:30

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.

WHY.