ASIMA IS SICK AND SHE WANTS TO EAT YOUR TEDDYBEAR AND THEN PUKE ALL OVER YOUR PERFECT BODYPARTS

ASIMA IS SICK! FOR DETAILS, READ ON. FOR ICE CREAMS, GO ROB A BANK.FOR PICTURE OF THE BIGMONSTER EATING OTHER MONSTER, VISIT LINK BY CLICKING ON CLICKING. ANY OF THE SEVERAL CLICKINGs. FOR LIFE SAVING ADVICE, READ TITLE AND RACK YOUR BRAINS OR HIRE ONE AND THEN RACK IT AND THEN DISPOSE IT OFF AND THEN DRAW A PICTURE OF A FLOWER AND EAT IT.


sometimes what happens to asima is, she gets reminded of perfectly shaped body parts. no asymmetry. no abnormality. the kinda stuff that'd make you go 'HEY, THAT'S A NORMAL HUMAN BEING'S BODY PARTS!' unlike her own. then she gets sorta sick.her eyes turn upwards, her lips thicken and her face bulges on one side.when she gets sick, asima likes to pull paper bags or polythene bags over her head. she likes to think that doing so will suffocate all those thoughts and they'd die and never return to plague her.if in case you catch her in the act, she will immediately hide her hands behind her back so in case you are about to draw a picture of her and put it up one some electronic medium like this one, you cannot reproduce her hands for the life of you. this will make you suspect that she hates her hands but there's no way in hell you can confirm if that's true.so you move on and continue with the rest of the story.



so she gets a little sick and then she gets sicker. this time she was thinking about pretty eyes. so she got sick and then she got sicker. when she gets sicker she feels like she could do with some drowning and then she starts having the drowning feeling and everything around goes yellow and gooey looking.

then she starts feeling like its raining on the inside of her hair. then she starts cursing you and your scanner and your fucking fingers and all that works because your scanner starts malfunctioning and your fingers start feeling like they would really like to wrap themselves around your neck in a way that will strangle you to death. this makes it very difficult for you to type so you have to stop

these things happen and they make me poetic.

im peeling the soles off my feet
but everything is still strange and absent and
imaginary when im walking all over it. these
things happen.my fingers are all blood and
loose cuticles.im telling you, these things
happen and they're are always watching you through
a peephole with the kind of eyeballs
that turn into a doorknob and lock you in before
you know it.this is irrelevant and it
makes me poetic.

*

this morning i was in
the toilet, singing and imagining that im
at a party with all your friends watching me.
none of them was taking pictures of me. no one
told me i remind them of someone famous.i was ugly
with tufts of hair missing and no one was getting me a
drink and they were staring as though im a tortured
polar bear and they're copious amounts
of greenhouse gases. these things happen and

*

they make me a little crazy, a little edgy and suicidal but
all of it it also makes me majorly poetic.like i start seeing
stars appear all over my body and the walls and the bedsheet and i
start trying to lick them off and i dont know what
the hell is going on so i decide to write about it.
but i cant, and it makes me feel like my heart
needs to piss. like i'm walking into a
new city with no wind, no sun, no plants and
nothing to grow into.

*

when you were talking about
edges and love and perfectness and love and flames
and love, i thanked you because you wouldnt have
me talking about it too. you dont care. im a huge big black
box of garbage and eagles swoop down to snip the last of
my words. this makes you happy and you leave.these

*

things happen and then we start
writing about how the world must be a peephole
into something huger,more sinister, with
more of a menstrual sense of humor.about how
large amounts of illegal drugs and some
amount of real death would really help. about how
being alone actually makes us stretch our limbs as far as
they'd go, and not just curl up and die. about how
nothing can be salvaged once we start doing this- we
start touching everything as though we're some dusty old
memory,the athlete's foot, or a shard of broken glass.

you say everything as though you mean it to break something

You do everything as though you are
helping a dying woman through childbirth.You say-
'If you're not the woman, you'll be the child'. You are doing this
to make the child survive a world of raptors on its own, crying,
wiping its face on its ass.'You cannot escape this',you
say. I swear, I dig my nails into you and yell
when I'm really just wishing I could sob and say 'I'm sorry, I'm
sorry, lets be ok.' You do everything as
though


you're doing everyone a favour, everyone
but you. You tell me that if my dead friend's book
gets to my bedroom, I'm going to be possessed by suicide
spirits. I burn the book and feed you the
ashes. You take your forgiving hands
out of the oven and do everything you can to
save the child.You say 'This is your next life, damn you, damn
you', bleed a little, and collapse with your God
stories lying next to you.


You know how it's all played out, you're writing
the script and you're chopping off all branches to punish the
roots. The fruits fall, the flowers fall, the
buds make no sound but weep. You look at me and
say 'You won't escape this, damn you,' trying to sound like a witch,
but failing. You try your exorcisms on yourself and
then on me but we've been exhausted. You take your
forgiving hands, pick me up and tell me that


nobody will love me because
I'm ugly with disfigured breasts that resemble the
withering humanity hanging out loosely from
something facing extinction. I try to kill you but my nails
come off. You take your bruises and compile
them into a catalogue of revolvers as though it could be
your prophesy or your handbook on


survival strategies for me. You call me a whore and
scream curses into the commode. You tell the dying
woman that the child is coming through. The steam doesn't
help her breathe. You talk about your failing
marriage your dying bones your psychopathic
tendencies your life and its lack of oases and the
saddest way to combat collapsing roofs. I say 'you can't escape
this, DAMN YOU!' and weep silently, wondering
if you'll ever notice their missing heartbeats
sticking to your bloody hands.


--
(image from google, manipulated by me)

OM

now yesterday, i got drunk i felt like a yogini i texted half the people i know with the name of the whiskey i'd just had and the namah shivaya chant and i drew this and then i fell asleep feeling like i know all there is to know about the origin of everything and the self and masturbation and isolation and NOTHING'S GONNA CHANGE MY WORLLLLD.

i think. i want to run away to the himalayas.

OH THIS IS THE SCRAP VERSION:
TELL ME WHICH ONE YOU HATE MORE *!*

and repeat repeat repeat:

people still wanting to buy my prints, email me at shriparnasarkar@yahoo.com

(dont let the watermarks scare you)

Big Black Ilaichi.

cardamom!cardamom! youmake my chlormintless-day
cardamom!cardamom! you take badtasteofmilk right away
cardamom!cardamom! i can get so very lame
cardamom!cardamom! you are soo the one to blame.

but
cardamom!cardamom! this one thing is sotrue
that
cardamom!cardamom! i deeeeeeeeeeeeegg youuuuuuuu.
(end song)


-
sudden realisation. i can no more pretend to be hovering anywhere close to the borders of profoundity. at no point did i ever make an effort at the pretence, yknow.i think it came naturally, and now it dont. it just dont, man. im just a plain old bastard with issues and a vehement i-wont-speculate attitude.damn, it gets me knee deep into shit sometimes. emotionally,i guess. or maybe im making all this up because i feel a need to ramble senselessly there's nothing else i can ramble freely about.

also, i make a statement man, i really do.
i let go, i let go like its the most poetic thing in the world and i do it in style.
but always such a goddamned phoney morantic, always.
no dice for the style, though. it just leaves my self esteem at a slightly less-microscopic level, which is OK.

oh and people (HAHAFUCKINGHA) still wanting to buy my prints, email me at shriparnasarkar@yahoo.com

(Y)

Updates

IMPORTANT: save the effort of reading the entire post if you have a life, and go straight to the end and read the other *IMPORTANT* note.

ok.so enough of cryptic, one line, posts in the rantblog(s) about things i dont think should matter (or am going to talk about, because i fail to recall what exactly they might've been, actually :S ), and no more stalling the possibilty of new posts hoping for one more comment on the last posts.im here and i realise that this blog has been dying little by little, much the same way as my newfound immunity against the urge to blabberblabberblabber is, now.

so here i am. pre-boards over. doomsday lurking round the corner and im pretending its still december. i hate the weather and everything that spells out clearly- ITS NOT D-E-C-E-M-B-E-R !!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111ONEONE well but even in december the weather was anything but it.why cant this city give me ONE week of proper cold weather when i dont have to say oh i wish i could shove my ass into the freezer? and i can almost see the almighty going muahahaha from beyond the palegrey skies saying, well kid, live with it. sucks? pretty much. thanks for the sympathy, empathy and all that jazz.
also, i dont have any YAY ITS 2009 AND HERE IS WHAT I PLAN TO DO, because here is what i actually plan to do: STOP worrying about how i never plan to do anything. stopstopstop itsok thats the kinda bastard you are and you cant change that to save your life.or you just dont make an effort. or you're just not sure where this post is going and so you're stretching it longer with pointless sentences that are not about the boil on your ass.
yeaaaaaaaaaaah, i have aNOTHER boil. if you think something's seriously wrong with me, you'd probably be right.
moving on,this weekend we went for this picnic (dad's office thing, so you get the picture) to someplace in Madhyamgram and there were PEBBLES ALLLLLL OVER THE PLACE!!11111oneone i lugged a good twenty something home, if you can believe it. smallbeeg weirdround all kinds.
that's one good thing.
another good thing is that i finally uploaded a few new pictures on dA and flickr, go see if you're jobless.
bad thing: amay biye peyeche. aar peye i choleche. goddamnit. koi re bhai somebody come and biye me. buy me. whatevers. lets elope. lets OK? PLEASE? sigh.nobody takes me seriously. what the fuck, mens.
also, i cannot for the life of me take decent pics with my SLR. not many decent pics, aleast. and all the cautiousness and nervousness about wasting a shot makes it worse.gah.
also, im broke and in dire need of -cough- money which would help me buy something my parents wont get me because they have other things to get me, and i dont wannabugem because i dont think i deserve it yet anyway. well, i need a graphic tablet badly annnnnnnnnd before the college admission things begin, that too. whhhhhhich brings me to the

end-of-the-post-*IMPORTANT*-note:
-clears throat-

hello. im shriparna sarkar, a bum who is pretty goodfornothing and is -cough- trying to sell her prints. prints of her -cough- work. er, artwork? incase anyone is interested ( notice ship on her knees, full-tu begging pose ), please let me know.
work may be viewed in her dA gallery or Flickr (for photographs,link on the sidebar).

i have 4 people agreeing to buy my shit sofar. isalliwantedtosay. hello this is weird.

count your blasseengs

pathetic time ive been having, really. in general. as always. pathetic new year, birthday my fucking foot, santa claus never really existed anyway, mothers always do (ignore this, really).


BUT.


good thing is, good things dont not happen,yknow.
so i am cranky with everyone i know. im a bastard that way, without meaning to be, but how is that an excuse heh :P and some people take in all the shit i keep throwing in all directions,andstill give me reasons to sing ..

YOUAAAAALWAYSTOOKMEWITTTTHASMILEWHENIIIIIWASDOWNNNNNNNN

(from-on mercury. happymaking song anyway.by RHCP.i want to eat their faces. diggable peoples.)

moving on, the goodstuff. (in order of occurrance)

factor#1(fragrating agent): SD gives me smiley pebble smelling of, as i was told, axe aftershave.listen dood, i havea thing for pebbles. dont laugh at me. i like that pebble and people dont give me pebbles so there. this makes it to the list.

factor#2 (de-pissingoff agent ) : emomail from sneha. i cant handle emo, mens.and since i was sloshedwhen i read it, it was worse. holy crap, it WAS.didnt speak to her for two days straight because i didnt know what to say and i end up not bringing things up later,usually, giving the impression im taking everything for granted. cant help, man. i suck at these things.




..she painted that for me. LALALA ACRYLICS ON RED(WHATEVERITSISCALLED)PAPER.she's a star and im a pile of jonjaal. xD oh but thassok with her, so why complain *!*
factor #3 (WATTOSAY): SHRAVANTHI'S LETTER <3 AAAAAAAAAA AND REACHING ON TIME.
factor #4(cheeringup/comfortingagent):

I'll sit by you near the ruins and make you
a daisychain of smiles and forgetmenots,
so when the astrologer passes by we can
laugh in his face (together) and tell him
you have friends.

shrutiperson.wrotepoemphormeonly.wattosay.:)

factor #5(ridding insecurities): PK agreed to adopt me.holy jizz. i can be their daughter. can you beat that? NO SIR NOT IN A MILLION YEARS. so yeah, when im not being a loosar at trying to make it as a phuchka waali or somesuch, im gonna be at home with mommy and daddy, (leaving them alone mostly, yeah. rest assured, you two) eating out of their refridgerator.

wait.

im going to be a joey. i just KNOW it. she's always going to be like monika too, i have a feeling.

anyway, point is, they cant change their mind after THIS. no effin way.

:dances:

facor #6 (MAJORHAPPYMAKINGGRINGRINGRINSMILESMILESMILEAWWINDUCING agent)

. The Ship by ~Babrus on deviantART

BARBRA DREW ME A PICTUR OF ME. in addition to my dA avatar, even my ID is by him now. blah. xD :dancesmoarandmoar:


ohcool something just pissed me off enough to make me stop typing anymore happythings. LISTEN.forgive me.iloveall, but am pissed off. no elaboration.

lookity

notice how my activity over here, and in the other blogs, increases exponentially during exams? more so during pre-boards ? more-er so before the MATHS exam in which flunkage is inevitable? oh well. I DREW NANANANNAHAJHSDF !1111111111ONEONEONE

SOMETIMES, IM SO MUCH FUN! self portrait click click

some other times, im just an alternating yellow and grey blot in the universe: not self portrait click click.

paint. i love paint. right now.

moving on, pencil, sketchbook, and photoshop. here:

Being glamorous.

being glamorous by ~weevilgirl on deviantART

.. one goof-up and you're the clown

every cocktail party turning upside down ..

must be so hard. haha.

i DONT KNOW WHY THERE'S THAT GLARING MISSPELL IN THE IMAGE, ITS OK ON DA BUT IT SHOWS A WRONG SPELLING HERE. IGNORE. GAH.

OKBYE.

Love Tag.

( tagged by LD )



If your lover betrayed you, what would your reaction be?
I would write and draw about killing people. about all the birds stuffing their bones
with something, anything because light isn't fun anymore, freedom isnt love anymore.it was, but not anymore.returning home isnt an option anymore, there's nowhere to go, nothing to go away from, nobody to return to.i would pretend everything i say is poetic, everything i feel has a rhythm,everytime i sing my heart feels like nothing is missing.
i would pretend to be a clear headed person who plans it all beforehand, like i am doing now.i would pretend a lot, like i do now. only, i would pretend then that i never had a lover, while now i like to pretend that i've always kept secrets.


If you can make a dream come true, what would it be?
To be a person who can look at her own feet and think they're beautiful.

What do you do when your love is unrequited ?
I dream about killing people and then i think about what it would've been like if i had no toenails, nor shoes, nor skin, and im at peace with the amount of roof i can afford. But really, im just pretending.
this is what i've done all my life, and i cannot remember details. i think that's because it just drives me a little crazy each time HAHA.

What would you do if you had a billion dollars?
Buy a gun, hire someone to do the licensing shit for me, or scare them into doing it.
Buy a house and throw a huge party and run around wearing pink and then disappear because no one is looking, nobody cares.
Eat a lot before disappearing.
Buy a platinum and diamond ring and send it to my house anonymously.
Drink a lot.
Return home and be very surprised about an anonymous pakage and die of excessive cardiac activity within a span of 2.13 seconds of opening it.

Would you ever fall in love with your best friend?
Dear tag maker,
I want to be a fortune teller and then inform you that you'll die a most brutal death, being run over by a big black truck after having been released from being hung upside down and beaten to pulp for a week and a half.Or maybe i can do fine pretending to be one and telling you the same.


Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
i want to quote someone here but i dont remember the name, or the quote, because i've forgotten what both feel like.
NO i lied. i just like it when im vague.and whiney. and pretending to be distressed and suicidal.

How long do you intend to wait for someone you really love?
Till someone comes and tells me that my womb is about to turn into a toilet bowl in approximately 75 seconds.

If the person you secretly like is already attached, what would you do?
i would do tags like this to distract myself and i have a feeling it would work perfectly fine.

What captures your heart the quickest?
Distance.
when im allowed to see everything through the wrong end of the binoculars and its pointed out that i can switch but it's my choice really.

What would you be, ten years from now?
A learned person who knows the side effects of being an artist, a poet, a girl covered in more scabs than skin.or a madwoman waiting by the public toilets and the ruins at alternate intervals. or a pro at pretending to be all these and more, all at once.

What do you fear?
everything, to some extent. nothing, to some other extent.

What's the first thing you do when you wake up?
Sit up.keep sitting for a few minutes until i'm convinced that i cannot, for the life of me, recall what i'd dreamt of inbetween the scary bits.

Would you give all in a relationship?
I would give all excluding my kleptomania.so i can steal back everything as and when required.

If you love two people simultaneously, who would you pick?
The person called nose.
i couldnt think of anything lamer to match the question.

Would you forgive and forget, no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
If he's done something like not believing me when i say im dead, or when i say i feel like im dying, or that i mightve died long ago, then no. Else i tend to not forgive but just forget, no matter how much i try against it.

If you get to go back in time and fall in love all over again, would it still be with the same person?
In Danish, the word 'love' rhymes with 'pain'.i dont know why i said that.i dont understand what you want to know.

amare..(Robindro Shongeet illustrated)

amare ke nibi bhai shopite chai aponare..

amar ei mon goliye, kaaj bhuliye, shonge toder niye ja re.. amare..

amare ke nibi bhai shonpite chai aponare..

tora kon ruper haate,cholechish bhober baate

tora kon ruper haate,cholechish bhober baate

pichiye achi ami apon bhaare

toder oi haanshi khushi..

toder oi haanshi khushi dibaa nishi

dekhe mon kemon kore..

amare ke nibi bhai shopite chai aponare

amar ei bandha tute, niye ja lute pute

amar ei bandha tute, niye ja lute pute

pore thaak moner bojha ghorer dware

jemon oi ek nimeshe

jemon oi ek nimeshe bonna eshe

bhashiye ni jaye parabaare..

amare ke nibi bhai shopite chai aponare..

eto je ana-gona, ke ache jana shona?

eto je ana-gona, ke ache jana shona?

ke ache naam dhore mor daakte paare?

jodi she barek eshe

jodi she barek eshe daraye henshe

chinte paari dekhe taare..

amare ke nibi bhai shopite chai aponare...

:)

one of my favourite songs ever, probably THE favouritest Rabindra Sangeet, definitely so at the moment. i started relating to it from the very first time i heard it about 6-7 years back, and its been growing into me ever since. oh love. inspired drawing. i feel sorta nice. fullview here.

OH bytheway. i was doing something similar on paint, asking mom about some random spelling of some random word, and she comes, checks it out, and goes OH besh bhalo. blog kore de eta!blog korbi toh? jani toh korbi. blog kore loke pore jodi keu nite chaye/raaji hoye toke. tai hobe kina shondeho jodiyo.nile abar eshe phele diye jaabe. hahahaAHHAHAHAHJAGSHDF

YES THE LAUGH was hers. heh.