The easiest thing to do in life is take everything for granted. Your education, the daily comforts and luxuries, the fat stash of cards in your wallet and the morning sun through the window. Life is wasted on the living. To stop mid way and just breathe in all that you have lived, gained and lost just sounds like the impossible. Its a fickle world, everything that you held close and dear could burn into nothingness at your own folly, and all you'd be left with is you and a disease called regret. Being hungry at 3 in the morning doesn't do well for your funny bone or the crappy blog.

Some, or maybe most people I know in college now assume that I don't give a damn about most things coz I don't think they are worth shit. They are wrong. It is because I think those things are worth shit. Now why waste a damn on things that are worth shit?. Or the less general assumption, is to find some flaw in my self-esteem. There is nothing wrong with my self esteem, its just that I don't particularly care if I look stupid. And looking stupid is one of those things I can do flawlessly without putting in any effort. I am naturally endowed with massive chunk of stupidity. Among other things. There was this particular guy I knew. Now I don't know him. Anyway, noway,one way.......running out of words with "way" as suffix. That's just sad.

Some days could change your life. You could believe that you have "seen all, been there, done that" only to find the ground beneath your feet missing all of a sudden. I believed I had been through all levels of boredom, from staring at a white wall for hours trying to define its surface contour to observing the flying pattern of three flies, one real and two imaginary; walking around in GIP doing nothing and to top it all, trying to be a programmer. Only to wake up today and beat them all. To measure the frequency noise in the led blinks of a laptop hdd. Life is a poetry of useless sobriety.

Somethings don't fit. Ever. Like the misplaced pen caps, the south indian in a beauty pageant and prawn curry placed in front of a veggie. Everything in the world has its place, the rest can just be hidden below the cot. Went to see Avatar today, only to get a refund because Big Cinemas( previously Adlabs) have absolutely no idea to play a 3-D movie. From when did it become ok to fuck up premieres. Anyway, spoiled the whole fun that could have happened in 3 hours. But for the "technical difficulties" , life could have been simply measured as " Before Avatar" and "After Avatar". And now, all that is going to happen is that all the stupid little dorks who were made fun of because they couldn't get to the premiere will act like stuck up bitches from hi-fi land invited to the " Association of U-suck coz I gotta saw it first" club!. What an epic let down. :-(

Pudding:- everytime someone says that, I have a weird feeling that the guy is going to take out a hammer and smash my head with an accompanying "ding" sound, when he finishes the "ding" at the end of spelling "pudding" part. Also, pudding is one of those words which don't seem to be fit enough to be spoken on a stage.The previous sentence is literally drowning in prepositions and conjunctions and all those silly little words with 2-3 alphabets having no particular meaning of their own.Sad eternal existences.Now,coming back,the probability that the word "pudding" was ever spoken on a stage must be less than 0.001%.If the probability exceeds 0.01%, we shall,simply for the sake of keeping our numbers precise, ignore the rest of the stages on which "pudding" was spoken so as to let the numbers tally. And yes, pudding is my word of the day, for now.If some one eats toothpaste accidentally everyday, does that count into his regular diet?...I prefer coffee-mugs without handles....let the warmth of the coffee onto your fingers before you brutally gulp the coffee down the deep abyss of your esophagus.Not the ones they use at barista or ccd or costa. Those are obscene, and fat like old, short,fat chinese witches bowls that they use to drink crow-blood. It would be great to control the elements, not do do some crazy superhero/supervillain stuff, its that then, you just get up in the morning and have to only issue commands like "tooth, be brushed; body, be cleaned; or - potty, be done". Simplifies Life.There are times when every time you say something, you make a mental image of the things you are saying. Now those are the times you don't want to say pudding, or shit-sticks, or "you are an ass" or "I am a c@#$.". Doesn't work too well for your self-esteem.

One sensible blog and now everybody thinks I am stupid sane. what is wrong with people?

A few reasons why you should blog, because it is better than the following because:

blogging: you blog.
flogging: hurts.
snobbing: thats just a boring "about me" stretched to its limits.
tweeting: unless you are a twit or a twat, the world still has a place for you.
blobbing: the world is already fighting for water, you don't want to be smack at the centre of it.
jogging: no need if you are not going to die in the next 3 years.
sagging: if you do identify with this word, honestly, wtf??
gagging: at the count of 10, kill yourself. all the more better if you don't count too.
bragging: better start blogging, looks more legitimate
eating: now this isn't supposed to be on this list, but I'm running out of rhyming words.
scaring people: just show them your face
appearing stupid: start talking
typing: what was this post about anyway..

Talent is,in absolution, completely relative.With every going day, I care all the more less about my grammar and structure. One could bask in all the glory of being considered good by the few people around you, but only to be thrown into the deepest abyss of self criticism caused by spending unknown hours on the internet hunting everything random under the sun , only to find across hundreds of brilliant and beautiful people out there being much better at what you thought was your cup of tea. Just goes to prove that life could have been much more simpler without the internet, or even a bad bandwidth...the antique dial-up of post gone India could have been good enough. Life can be a bitch to optimistic people. Living all their life believing to be good only to be convinced, on the last day of their lives that they weren't any more better than the man down the street, whom you thought to be a smart ass. It doesn't matter if you are a smart-ass, at the end of the day, you are still an ass. Pessimistic people die happy. To them, the feeling of meeting death is just similar to a 5 year old kid who just got handed his long awaited present. They wait for death all their lives, it must surely be the most awaited moment of their lives. "Har ass b-aas martha hai" is a great hindi line(baas is a hindi word meaning baas).
Everybody, at one point says "everydog has its day", but nobody seems to know how many days the dog might actually end up having. And some actually try so hard that you are absolutely convinced that the dogs are now just trying to stretch the limits. Also, its good when the dog has its day, but it is an absolute pain in the ass when the dog has its day everyday. Then the dog, and the person being the dog, are just being a smart-ass.

Flowers and ferns-noida: a tour.

Planet GAY-TIA, as viewed from earth @courtesy: mad-eye moody.no thanks.


The flower shop. Memphis's lair.Madness. Holy fuck what am I doing here?.%$(%%(GHGK)*(&^&%%. This was the initial rush of excitement.which would kill me a few seconds later. Then reality, we were in a flower shop.Don't ask why. Me and Lanba just went.And the 1st lines were the very 1st words that came in my head.Like Armstrong's "One small step...", I went, "Oh, God! Fuck No."... And then .... doom.The scent.I had to warp out of there.5 minutes.Now time,the mean little SOB that he is, becomes concocted in a flower shop, because, there, you are at negative lightspeed relative to whatever shit the physics part of your brain is thinking right now( if you're trying to find a chink in my negative lightspeed theory, give up, you might be smart but I can think real stupid real fast). SO the 5 minutes are five lifetimes. or more. In my version of heaven, I don't want a lot flowers. Just a little, very far away,very very far far far away...pleasing to the eye, a faint smell in the air, thats it. Today I totally chocked at the flower shop. And we were stinking of flowers even after walking out. It was a massacre. Think the place was called planet gay-tia, a.k.a flowers&ferns. They had WMDs in all shapes and sizes and colors. Some of the flowers came straight out of a star wars prop set. anyway, here's a photo tour .


Picture above: WMDs of all shapes and sizes.




The truth about the flower shop.The initial raw materials look like these above.
They are dried human remains.the green is because the human who had got killed had eaten too much lettuce and spinach. red part is fresh blood. added for flavour and color.




Now at the shop they very nearly convinced us these were flowers, but we overcame their guileful intoxication and realized they were just weeds who had passed out from a good grooming prep school...and a few on the left look like chicken rolls wrapped to their heads...or veg rolls.thats not the point. whom are they fooling?



When I said them these were princess Leia's fav, the shopkeeper nodded as if he knew it.That let the cat out of the bag. I knew it from the very 1st instant I saw that these came straight out of the star-wars universe. They are planning to take over the earth!!!what's next, the Death-star flower???



A gay man exploring his gayness.




Flowers showing the middle finger to humanity.But then,I might be wrong.It might be a "show your wankers" show going on.



Now unlike humans, flowers have no sense of public behavior or shame. Seen above, some of the flowers piss in public and some bathe in it. as shown.


A close up of the piss-pic.Just to prove I wasn't lying.


Another gay man, but unlike the 1st, instead of his own, he was exploring the gayness of the 1st man. Hence the absence of too much details in the pic.The photographer was ashamed. and chocking on the flowers.wishing he could puke on them.


another flower taking a piss in the open.shamelessly.


too many flowers and simply too much flower-piss. but maybe all the piss had finally done it. This space of air was stink -neutral.At least to humans.




another wanker show off in progress. Think its a cultural festival of the flowers going on. Hoped to know which human was gifting those wankers to whom, but the shop said the info was privy!!.





Or maybe my problem with the flowers was they were too perfect. For maintaining the scent and feel, they do something to make it look fresh and perfect all day long. Now that is something men can't accept. For men, only their dream girls and dream cars are supposed to be perfect. anything and everything else has to be a notch below. Perfection is a delusional fantasy we willingly keep unreal. Its a word that men came up with to make every woman feel a little bad on the inside. And thus every man a little happy.Ooops. Secret out. So, anyway, perfect flowers = bogus!!