Drako Fellatio

I couldn't even judge right. But you can't blame me. Being in a circumstance remotely similar to mine - you'd crap your pants. Your neon signs would start to flicker and then short circuit. You'd cry and not know what to do. You'd turn your engines off, maybe even strip and run around naked - on a beach. That'd be quite a scene. You stripping naked and running on the beach. I'd either throw up or intercept you somewhere down the length of the beach and jiggle with you.

But then, that wouldn't be right. Jiggling with you in public, if at all.
Does it matter though? Being right all the time? Falling into that trap. That choosy societal black hole that's full of all the rights and wrongs none.
Now, how laid out a life would that be. Only doing what's right. Imagine knowing beforehand, of the choices you'd make. You'd practically be living Utopia.
Where's the action in something like that?

Anyway.

Atta Chowk in Melbourne

This woman cried out loud from her balcony on the 9th floor, "bastard! whose car do you think that is!?" And spat out a blob of sputum at him. He didn't see the blob coming his way, and accommodated it on his shiny bald scalp with a loud plop.

The woman heard the plop some 1.2 seconds after she saw it land. She didn't smile till she heard it land. And the smile was a vicious one, let me tell you.

But him; he didn't care two bits about the goo on his head. And gave absolutely no importance to the verbal abuse he received from the woman. She screamed these words at him everyday.
Every single day.
Every single day of his life.
Every single day of his miserable, deaf life.

He just walked into the parking lot every morning and went through the same routine. That's all. That's all he ever did. Every morning.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a father cried his bloody baby to sleep.

what a beautiful life

The population around me fails to inspire me and so does the environment. Things are too comfortable for me to try and rack my grey muscle harder. I've been cracking ideas that have really impressed people at work lately. But the problem is, that those ideas dont impress ME. And I dont think an ad is good enough, if the creator himself thinks its mediocre!

The self remains unimpressed. I need action man, maybe a break.
I have a week long trip planned to Kasmir next month. I'm sure i'll have lots to write about once im back from there. I hope. I mean im so uninspired right now, that writing ads for a living aside, I dont even have anything worthwhile to even write about in my blog!
BAH.

What makes it worse is that im nearly broke - and its only the 2nd week into the month. I've got only 40 bucks on me right now and 300 in my salary account. I even tried freelancing this month to cover up for my broke-en- ness. And got a good assignment! I wrote some 5 television commercials for this private university. The client bought them all in the first go - but then, the buggers wont pay in time. They owe me around 10 K.

And i have a nasty cold. And have grown a mush. Imagine! i dont even feel like shaving.
Bhanchod.

Fuck i almost feel like a chick on PMS for ranting so much.
Bugger.

Tiger tiger burning brighter

Well, i shared the write up with my band.
this one
The next thing I knew... we were jamming, composing music to cover it.
We renamed it as "Doga ka intekaam" (Doga's vengeance). Doga being the tiger cub.
My bassy added another stanza to it.

The recording is very low res and the sound quality isn't a hit either. It sounds better on a set of headphones.
I'm on the drums.
WATCH!

The payback

The August autumn blankets humid memories
Of foxhunts and days of glory.
Left with pieces six, of silver
all to remind me of days that were.

Whatever’s left was not my plan
When swims in fancies was my game.
Doled it out tad before time
From six silvers to just a dime

Sell my body sell my soul
Or execute to make some more.
My options are but limited
Choose the easy track now – quick!

I am invincible , so is my knife
I am no specimen , nor is my life.
I slay for pleasure not for cash
I live for blood and blots in mud
I’d love to tread on but
My revenge against odds is complete
I’ve reached salvation – My good deed.

poeple them and people us.

Ive been obsessing over blogs lately…
Not that this is news… but of late I've been reading some foreign ones…ones logged in by folks living in some other part of the world. I happened to stumble onto one and just followed the links thereafter… kind of a fixation now.
What I’ve come to realize though, is how similar, yet different their lives are from the kind we live here! The only 2 things I've read people fretting about in their write ups are relationships and money issues.
These guys have to work their asses off to earn the kind of cash that’s barely enough for them to survive on. I could never imagine handling two jobs at a time… but its sort of a pre-requisite for survival there. And this is the United states I’m talking about.

Not that I’m living a fancy life here or that I have no financial issues to worry about… but 2 jobs?! Faack! No!

As far as relationships are concerned... well i have only my personal experiences to compare to. And believe me, i don't fret about them too much. That's probably because all of the ones that I'm involved in are secure. The security, i feel is more of a cultural issue. We here, tend to just live through the relationships we form - not that we take them for granted; but it's just that we don't bother looking outside of our relationships for options. (I wonder if I'm making any sense at all, really) The relationships we're currently in are penultimate. This goes for friends, girlfriends, folks ET all! We sort of have a make-do-with-what-you-have kind of an attitude. But then again, this is from what i feel about "us" from what I've learnt through my relationships with people around me.

Weird post.
whatever. yeah. Ughh!
I'm hungry, I'm gonna go snack.

Wrath-less

After being hooked to the lambs for over 4 years straight, i was very excited when i finally bought the Wrath album from my neighborhood music store. I was actually surprised to find it in a dreary place like faridabad, but that's a different story altogether.

Most carefully did i tear off the lamination and slide the disc into my car's stereo. What i heard for the next hour or so, however, was nothing short of utter disappointment.

Going by how beautifully the guys have progressed with each album that they have released, I expected this to be LOG's best work so far. And it was - but only production wise. Never have these guys sounded better. The mixing in there is superb and everything gels in well - except of course, for times when they've deliberately accentuated certain parts. The bass, for instance, in Contractor - which was a first in itself.

But coming back to my disappointment. Blythe is all over the fucking place! His vocals sound forced especially in his 'choke sermon'. And whatever it is that they are trying with their melodic riffs and solos. The solos lacked prominence and seemed highly uninspired to me. A few listens down, i still cant recall what any of their songs sounded like... Unlike their earlier albums that had tracks so catchy, that even my gardener would hum it to his kids.

The one track that Blythe did work good enough to give me goose flesh though, is 'In your Words'. A song that is opened by a floozy 'The passing'. The sound of which reminded me of my gods from the time i was still in school - Metallica. It is songs like 'In your words' that makes Lamb of God themselves. Sadly, it is songs like these that Wrath Lacks. 'Reclamation' comes a close second to In your Words with its powerful vocals and sledgehammer like riffs. Beautiful.

Needless to say Adler continues to churn out groove after unbelievable groove, many of which are interspersed by near incomprehensible fills.

All in all, even though i don't really hate this album, it is what Reload was for metallica, or what popularly perceived, 10000days was for Tool.

PS on 14th march2009 - actually i like dead seeds also

Hell surrenders

Our world is yours to burn
To rape.
We’re set to char
Decay.

We are the prey.
And you our lord,
That predates as a mandate.
In our country of sin
Of betrayal,
Glutton and sloth.

Sew your weaves of terror,
Mesh your demons – communicate,
Your mercenaries to slay
Us mortals, immortally cursed
To the end of this non existent day.

Behold!
These streams of puss shall gush,
through our gardens lush
With daisies that bloom death
And drip temptation.

Time has no end
And neither our pain.
No one to save us
from the preposterous.
Ridiculous!
This life we live,
to satiate hungers that never die!

Sew your weaves of terror,
Mesh your demons – communicate,
Your mercenaries to slay
Us mortals, immortally cursed
To the end of this non existent day.

Tiger Tiger Burning Brighter

Lurks in the shadows- mingles with blades tall.
Parting them to peep
at a game that opens into- gunshots and ricochets,
Bursts of blood and rain.


Spurts of life driven out of his own…
His own, who gave him life,
licks of love and warmth.
She, who launched him
to his own love for pungence - the colour red
She, who gave him his form.


Jungle demon yellow little,
Paint strippen’ black.
He doesn't deserve a death - nor pity
Just his country back!


He stands in awe
at the gasps, the chokes,
the groans in full colour – raw.

(He's witness to massacre…)

He stands there clueless -
before those misty eyes
that stare at him,
and then into nothingness.

Jungle demon yellow little,
Paint strippen’ black.
He doesn’t deserve a death - nor pity
Just his country back!

A new Year

... and nothing has changed.
Much.

Fish sex.

69, the famed oral course position, according to me is a favorite amongst Piceans.

let 69 = image

flip image at a 90 degree to the either side - whichever side you may.
What do you see?

Label me insane, but i think i just discovered something.

pseudogamy

Psychobabble trash-talk
& paranormal promises.
Ground nuts that smell like sunflowers
on a daisygloom morning.

Whiffs of camphor
cats, dogs & toads.
Black label bottles-
creativity in my stylus.

Orgasm shreds on a
90D micro cube
that wails like a baby
of doom.

Licks of thunder, tears from heaven.
Prayers of cleansing
darkness of its void.
Unicycling, high wire walking.
the stereotype indian rope trick
It's a circus!

Londonner rasputins

carnivalesque vermillion spreads.

societies of pornography,
photographs of grass.
tears streaming puss
render vision void
and thought loose.

DRAUGHT BEER

Rise
to the wave of mediocrity
Slay
slaves of excellence

Broken dreams
Not broken bones.
resultants of apex brawls
amongst brains that claim
superiority.

Being a calf

Buzzing cubes spewing hot air fit tightly in their windows. I often wonder what joy they find in acquiring more of these cubes with each passing year. I mean… what purpose could they possibly serve anyway, with the summers getting warmer every time the season hits us?

Then they like to be jailed. Fascinating! They construct the tallest of walls around their manicured residences and revel in their shadows. Very rarely do they venture out – and when they do – they zip out in these moaning boxes – which incidentally, also disgorge hot air!

Mum always warned me about the big ones – the big boxes roar and stop for no one – like dad when he’s in a fit of rage, mowing down anyone and everything that comes in the way. I guess I should’ve followed what she told me, because this pungence (in full colour) that has been dripping from my hip doesn’t really make me look as pretty.

Unreal Tournament

Stump pinks flutter.

Spiral tail’d,

Squeals of Pork echo.

The game thrown open,

gunshots and ricochets,

bursts of blood and rain.

The pinks flutter,

descend in a gyre.

Pigeons unleashed,

Salivating- they rocket

To where the gyre

ends in a thud.

-Cooing, they retrieve.

“Meat!” the decadent gamers cry.

It’s a take away.

Their wives howl back at home,

at wolves that wait patiently

For the gamers’

colonial return.

Korean Guerilla

I finally went and saw Dark knight yesterday. Awesome movie. Joker's character was superb and Heath carried it through, with a peircing performance. Ive always been intrigued by all of Batman's villains. All, from Penguin to the riddler to joker... but this post isn't really about the movie. Its about what i noticed in the movie hall.

I went to one of the PVRs here in Gurgaon and while waiting for the auditorium to open, I decided to buy myself some pop corn and soda to kill time...which is when i noticed something really interesting. On either side of the candy shop, there were Plasma TVs installed in sets of four - screening trailers of movies that were soon to be released. Now, 3 of these 4 plasmas on each side were of Samsung brand and one was of Lucky Goldstar - otherwise, popularly known as LG.
The LG plasmas on both the sides, had distinctively poorer visual clarity than the Samsungs they were right next to.

Of course this was a set up!
Samsung wins!

Encash, not bash the male.

The very cocky headline aside, I have a confession to make, a few questions to ask and a few suggestions to add to all the hullabaloo.

When I was at college, final year – I took up women’s writing as a subject just because the alternative (Literary Theory) just sounded too difficult to crack. I chose the subject without knowing what I was really getting into – not that I regret it now, 2 years down. I’m rather happy of the intelligent choice I made, unconsciously so and the way it has shaped me as an individual.

I was the only guy in class to have chosen the subject, probably because I had absolutely no hang ups/ was confident about my sexuality- at least that’s what I claimed back then.

(Before you gawk - I’m straight). In a class of around 40 people there were only 9 of us who took up feminism. The guys stated that they were too macho to study, analyse and critique frilly write ups (this is how they imagined the subject to be – wrongly so. It was only through me that they later learned that feminist literature was much more harsher and violent than the Greek wars they read and romanticized about in class) and the girls… well they had no excuse. They just did as the society had molded them to do, over the years. All that it would have taken for them to counter society and the patriarchy that is so prevalent in it was to have taken up the course. Well this was the reason of their choice, for most of the girls – exception claimers aside.

My girlfriend being a staunch feminist herself, attracts a lot of stink eyes from people when they learn of her stand on gender dynamics…and later, when they learn that even I am on the same side as hers… they are suddenly more tolerant. Ridiculous, how people function!

Like just the other day, when a servicing guy in my office was bitching about an art chick he thought had too much attitude for her size said “…and I think she’s a feminist too! By God! Shit!”… Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean???

The saxay boy shut the fuck up when I told him that I was one too, and that I didn't understand what the big deal was about being one.

I remember once in my feminism class back at college, when a lecturer of mine recalled her thoughts from when she was expecting her 1^st baby - “I wish I have a daughter. Then I could raise her to be a feminist”

This comment of hers left me confused…

See, with patriarchy having to do with male domination and the acceptance of it by even women – would it not be intelligent of us to breed more male feminists than to breed more and more female ones? The society functions – like it or not – as men do or say… so why not have men preach feminism?? Its not that hard to have men on your team you know…Coz we are gullible as fuck. You just need to hit the right spot. Give us a Grear with visuals or an even more modernistic version of the same to flip through. Or even better, (sexist as it may sound) have a pretty looking chick read it out to us! So, my point basically being, that rather than bashing males so generically, one should try and get them to join the revolution instead!

I’m going to end this stream of consciousness right here because some lousy copy driven work just came in …

And just for the record, this post was triggered by the comments I read on a blog that I came across today. This blog was by a chica who shares the same nickname or maybe her actual name with Gunj, and may I add – even looks like her!! Ironical as the situation may be, she’s a feminist too. Of course, the Gunj I know is going to slaughter me for this. She thinks that this new Gunj is an impostor! Also, Tenzin shall be slayed ( who is a pseudo anti feminist – someone ask him why), for introducing me to Gunj’s blog. The new Gunj’s blog… not the one we know. Okay this is confusing.

Also, I need to buy shorts. I had too much of the red bull that the promotion cuties gave me for free at work today – which is making me piss like a monkey. I still haven’t watched dark knight – I’ve to go as soon as I find someone who hasn’t watched it, provided we get tickets. The London International award’s and The Goa fest’s call for entries posters are staring at me. I am random.

Killer Queen

If I had a choice I’d vote “Mr. Fahrenheit” for president. Even though now, that he’s dead. The man’s vocal skills have continued to amaze me since I was still wetting my cotton nappies (in my days, diapers were a luxury available only to either the supra rich crawlers or ones who had their fat bottom’d- frequent flier aunties visiting from the UK) Anyway, him being as gay as a daffodil and the fact that Freddie didn’t like to be reminded of his connection with India aside, the man is ( as I reiterate) a wonder, a master composer, songwriter, singer and performer. Note that I use the word is and not was… for the man has brought generations after another to tap their feet, bob their heads and swing to his tunes. – Cliché as it may sound; he still does, 17 years after he sung his last song.

RIP

Earplugs

An idea just whizzed past my mind. I’m trying hard to avert all its efforts to whizz any further.

It’s trying to run, run into that area in my brain, of which I have a limited access to. Its almost like it knows of this, like it’s conspired to tax me.

I close my eyes.

I purse my lips.

I clench my fists

I concentrate

and try desperately to pull it to a place in my head, from where I can see it clearly. But that bastard of an idea is a tough player. It runs farther away.

It sits beside me at the coffee shop.It laughs as it sees me reading Asimov while I try to figure out what the fuck a Compendium Trans-functioner is.

It rides a hexagon’s edge, jumps off it and slides across a table. I don’t know what significance the hexagon or that sun mica top table hold in my memory – but it rode and it slid.

Sharp, shiny daggers fling into the nothingness on my left. This, while I hold a dartboard in my right hand.

Water. Under its surface, then on it.

Tea, iced. 3 bucks. D-school. Dante’s Inferno. Sighs, laughs, conversations that lead to nowhere.

Connaught Place. I stand in awe, gazing at its architecture marvelous.

And then… just then … as I lose myself to this beauty in all white, the fucker just vaporises- the idea. In fact I can’t even remember what the idea was about anymore, or what triggered it for that matter.

Fuck.Usually, I’d try again. But this loud, sadistic toned blunt Bangla that keeps pounding on my eardrums just won’t let me.

News

okay so i got my offer letter today. Big Deal... big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.big fuckin deal.
Yes it is.
and I'm Happy