this is a pretend poem

for when i get web-toed and i falter. there's a whole field of green eating
at my intestines like gulls. butterflies mutate, so this could be a poem for when i skulk around and hug walls, hoping to find the sacks of nothing on my back evaporating. for when i

dont see it because its gone.for when i still look for 'hello!'s on pink tiles that have been walked over a trillion times since they were touched.this is a pretend poem for the times when the sky spits and i'm yelling at strangers who tell me its ok. its ok to lose hair over a seven day old love.its ok to look at your toes as if they're dying stars, uncouth and unable to keep yourself from tripping.this is a pretend lullaby for my defenses.a pretend serenade for the days when the branches hanging low over the smoke make me phase out.for the times i unfold my lungs and throw them at the wounded feet of the centre. this is an excuse and a trick and it wont stop pretending to cut through your gut. today i'll be pretending like its going to make a difference to somebody's sleep that this is a pretend poem for the times i wish i could tell what i really want it to be about.

dudes watte.
i think you'll understand. when i say that something. i wanna hold your hand.. i waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnaaaaaaholdyourhaaaand. dudes. eee and oh noez. love ije sad. never nice when unattainable.

LIFE

SHOULD FUCKING EXIST.

Like-

1.
..when you touch your head and try to show that it hurts and you touch your belly with palms like feathers cause you're nursing a bud like when you touch your arms and you're weary, I want to touch your face.


2.
..going over a score of different ways of asking about your heart and never making it beyond the colour of your shirt.
"If you were to make a french omelet out of your ticker, would I be the pan or the beater or the salt or all that the batter is composed of? Or do I just get to eat it?"

"Is it asleep? Is it humming, is it sad about the weather? Does it piss a lot at night?"

"Did I just hear it say.."

Oh did I? "..but that shade sucks, man."

3.
..the way I say 'hello, hello i know you! ,' one drink down.

4.
..the way I skirt around the edges and jump in when I'm hoping you'd fall. If this
were a movie, I'd be the ignored relic in the museum while the professors fell in love and the walls remained white and grey. I'd be the empty photo frame while sadness built up in their eyes like rain. If I were on TV, I'd be the only weather forecast you miss out on.If this weren't real, I'd be my own socks and eat my feet.I'd be something severely poetic and punch your heart right out of your ribcage, but plug up all ellipses.I'd punch your heart right out- but then tiptoe my way to it and put it in a vintage suitcase after you've collapsed.

Like I'd only leave if I could have that one vintage suitcase with suspicious contents that go tick.tick.tick. and they would have to stop me right there.

But I can't, and tomorrow when I'm jet lagged, I'll just be jet lagged. Not lovelorn, not looking for a bottle opener, no bare feet on cold stone burning from a touch.



Like crabs with their shells touching until one topples over and leaves.

Update.

i dont know why i keep doing this.

Pune.
i'm leaving on the 26th. suddenly every one of my acquaintances is moving to Pune and im discovering more and more people i know shifting there. somehow, it unsettles me more than anything. what i'm used to is leaving everything behind every 2/3/4 years, starting afresh whether i like it or not. i'm used to landing in a city where i know not a soul, and nobody cares about my new haircut and none of them are gonna turn at me and go.. OH she's preparing for a change.
well, im not.

anyway, so the last mistake i made in the city was wallrush. i would elaborate but there isnt much to it. its just that it was a bad time and everyone, including me, has been so busy soon after it ended that the stuff hasnt got sorted out yet and its really no body's fault.
the other mistakes im gonna make here are prolly the JU entrances. im not sitting for them. my mom is going berserk over it. but i cant sit for them.

i'm prolly gonna get to meet JD and Falak once i get to Pune. that's the plan, atleast.
one very important thing before i leave is- i HAVE to erase all the internet history shitpoothings because dad might land on my blog AND start reading it on a regular basis when im gone andhell, disastrophe that would be. i may also change the url but that'll take a while.because i cant get creative with urls now.and i dont have much to say in this post because not much has been going on except me feeling suicidal and at the peak of uncreativity. people who have had to get back to me about certain things have failed and i decide to give up already. im just sueing one of the.
then there's shopping that i havnt done and dont care about. then there's the lack of comfort im gonna have to deal with, a few days hence, but with it comes the lack of control so its all good.

im losing my patience with everything suddenly and that's the last thing i need now. what i need is to find the Led Zeppelin discography that has managed to go missing. i have EVERYTHING but led zepp. i mean i'd lost DT and Jethro and some other shit to a dead DVD but i cannot FIND the ledzepp DVD at all.when i ask the cupboards for help, they dont help.

good thing that's happened is that im at better terms with Sam than i've been in the past year and it's nice to have her back and swear at her every time she drinks beer without me. we've never really got drunk together.

that's the only thing i remember. oh, apart from this. last night i had the weirdest dream and P was in it. i cannot believe it because my father drank ALL the vodka P offered me.please psychoanalyze.this woman i know was changing in his room and i have no idea why im talking about this.

i think i might have a thing for abusive romance but im not very sure about anything anymore.

i dont like mosquito nets.

The Finger!

yes, I know this picture has neither the attitude, nor the finger, NOR the idea usually associated with the phrase in the title, but hey. :D This is the real shit, doods.
so this morning i was sleeping as usual and then i WOKE UP (*JAAGO RE JAAGO RE JAGOOOOOOOO REE*) and went to vote. longest queue in the area- ours. very poopy i felt. very irritated with dad acting like a hyperactive, retarded first time voter who's never noticed his daughter's bad posture before and couldn't think of a better time or place to exclaim 'HEY I'M SURE YOU'RE NOT EVEN SURE WHAT YOUR ADDRESS IS,KID!' or to imitate the timid looking family speaking in bangaal bhasha at the TOP of his voice in ALL CAPS ( so now you know why im incapable of behaving myself and am very adept at embarrassing you in public if you're with me,its all in the genes).
so that, and then the long wait of approximately eleventy hours, and finally i'm standing right before the EVM going *OMG WTF ALL NAMES IN BENGALI SJDFJSGDFJ* but taking less than a nanosecond to settle down, set off the beep and jump out of the enclosed area grinning like a 3 year old who's just taken over the chocolate factory.i hung around until both my parents were done, the grin getting wider with the slow drying of the purpleshit on my finger.it used to be a black spot thing they used to put, no? why suddenly switch to blueypurpleyink?

i dont mind, it goes well with the state the other fingernails were/are in xD

met an old couple from our building while we were still at the booth, the woman going OMG SHE TOO?I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT OF HER AS THE KID WITH THE MOMMY (those exact words in bengali, no exaggeration), andyesthankssomuch, i showed her the finger alright.

the walk back home was long and pleasant and thrilling because i don't know why. i have no idea,OK? i cant even say anything poetic here, so bah. but on the way, i came across this group of kids that grinned at me in a way that spelled- comeletsplay Ring-a Ring-a roses (yes you are welcome to deduce that i suffer from dyslexia and it is manifested not only in my general inability to spell correctly, but also to interpret what spells what) and i, for no reason, pulled an evil face and showed them the finger. *mwahahahaha*
their faces changed to reflect a somewhat unreadable expression and i walked off with a smirk
characteristic of a primary school bully.

And to think i had just exercised any of my rights as an Adult for the first holy time since i turned 18, this isnt too much of a glaring irony now, is it?

EDIT: for people who like making assumptions based on one tiny sentence in a blog post (happened just {and boy, was it funny} , this comes therefore), i CAN read Bengali, and that sentence was only a representation of the ONLY thing that crossed my mind when i went in there.because i was expecting English and because Bengali was my 3rd language in school and i wasn't prepared for it and it takes my brain some time to process it and im slow, ok? im very slow. because i have to type out stupid excuses for no reason because some people just LOOVE to pull unsuspecting people up by the collar and slap them leftandright because their tshirts say stuff in english and not in their mothertongue- i will say FUCK you.

Letters from Bengaluru.

Bits From Letter no. 1:


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DONT POKE MAI NOZE!

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

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

I LOVEd(?) BLUE *!*

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

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

AND i used to have the hugest crush on..

LEE RYAN. YES.

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

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

xD

Last time i was drunk

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

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

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

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

Face

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