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!!

Some people will have you convinced that the whole life deal is about "Getting the point" of some particular thing or other.
Maybe its your job, relationship or the absurd price of a macchiato. I just realized i'm an arrogant ass. Went for a haircut today and the guy asked me to get a shampoo, dirty hair it seems. Now I can't put up with people mocking my hair, even though I don't give a hair's hair about my hair. So while he was at it, i kept repeating '' I wash people's hair for a living'' in my head. That just made me realize I don't want to be single dad. I don't want my kid abusing me every time he takes a dump! Being sick is so sick it tops every other feeling of sickness.


Shakespeare, apart from his usual poems, used to write ones that used to make sense too. But that usually got into a lot of trouble because of his free spirited pen thinking. like this one:

hickety-fickety-picket foo;
what the fuck am I supposed to do?

Now, in the 1500s, "hickety-fickety-picket foo" was an expletive and "fuck" was an alias of King James. One of the reasons why the poem went unpublished.

Truth is a bunch of lies. like santa claus , its something the people around us keep convincing us to believe in, but it doesn't exist. What I don't get is why santa claus; the old gandalf looking garanpa seems so lovable...at least he didn't have to be a lie. I was happy believing he was actually a part of a larger secret society of ninjas based in the north pole. what a shame. Ironically, the Magnetic Fields sounds so soothing. somewhere, winter circles in the sky as the flow of the air mellows down time around us. Writing that line just gave me a feeling of pissing in my pants, you not only feel warm but the people around happen to notice too.and of course, the feel like shitty part is definitely there. At least, Newton wasn't completely right about gravity. Coz in my dream its not really sure if i am falling or flying. Or if the universe suddenly starts contracting around you based on that singular disaster of your life. in winter, everything happens in slow motion. except the chocolate cream on your vanilla scoop, it still flows as usual. Now why is this not interesting.........like i care.the keyboards needed some excerise, and here it is. Easy is an uneasy word....every time you use easy somewhere, 2 seconds down the line you really are rolling back wondering if it actually was that easy as you termed it to be. Its one of those hypocritical words in dictionary that exists for the sole reason of making human lives miserable, like "love" .....and "life" and ...."bitch", no wonder they rhyme with cow,wife and itch respectively.I just found an easy test to determine if you are bored :Keep staring at the word "Forgot" on a A4 paper for long enough, if you are bored enough, your brain will definitely distort it to "maggot". But if its "faggot" after a few seconds, thats just a low self esteem coupled with boredom. You need to go see a shrimp then.

no idea why this ended up here instead of the bore-blog.

this is probably about how the sun was on the opposite side of the sky when i woke up this morning. and how my name looks wrong every time i write it until it's gotten to the point that i'm not even sure how to spell it. it's about how everything has been flying out of my control so that i can't remember how to walk without making a sound. or how to hold on to the edges when my vision gets too blurry. this is almost certainly about how you live one and three forth miles to the north of me, but i forgot and slept facing the south last night so now i just feel like i turned my back on you.

but really, this isn't about you.


it's about how i've subscribed to the same three magazines for three years now, and every time i open them i feel like i've seen it all before. and how today is like yesterday and four days before that. it's about how i'm a repeat stuck on repeat, and we're all the same, and i'm drowning in an ocean of these fluid lies and tired eyes. this is maybe, almost completely about how my syllables sound like falsities every time i answer the phone trying to sound like i've grown up, and about how i'm hoping it's you while i'm sifting through message lists and memories.

but really, i promise, i promise this isn't about you.


it's about how i forget what i'm saying in the middle of sentences with complex compound structures. and how i'm not much at talking since i get nervous and my words stop making sense. it's about how i speak in different languages that all sounds alike or like stutters. and how you're clinging to my ribcage telling me to wait. to breathe. to smile. this is absolutely about how you're like two fingers on my wrist checking for a pulse and about how you're substituting your own sort of rhythm to the crash course soundtrack of my life.

this probably isn't about you, but maybe every other moment is.

Its truly significant that every man ever born has absolutely no memory of the most significant moment of his life-being born. Yes , some people might have had a perpetual itch at the spot where the nurse slapped them on their naked new born butt because they did not cry a few 15-30 seconds into the world. Seems birth is met with sadism and a slap on the butt. If birth is truly a holy event, heaven would be filled with wet-nurses. Unless they had Indian bureaucracy , then there would be reservations for the other backward tribes and the other bunch of people whom god never really liked. Maybe if the RSS had their way, they would make a urine dip compulsary (yes, its spelled compulsory, but this is how the Shiv Sena wants it.) requirement for new born...talk about being born in piss. The most beautiful aspect of the world is irrelevant. It isn't especially funny writing blogs that tend to go nowhere at 2 in the night....but then its equally irrelevant that this sentence is not going to end soon because I am running out of words. HMM. how do you run out of words...? funny concept,that one.and tuna tastes good. but not after 2 hours. then it gets kind of squishy.and cold. and scooters and vacations and fall.

Yesterday, the space research arm of the RSS (a hindu organisation who believe they are a secret ninja clan and are confused about why they exist) discovered cow's urine samples on the moon. After their press meet, NASA organized a mass suicide campaign for all people with an IQ above 9. Except the Chinese. They still get to be communists and believe they see the moon brightly in a day because the official government circular said so. This comes after RSS attempt at making a cold drink out of cow's urine. If only the poor cow could talk, but maybe the poop's enough for them now. Going by inside rumors, the party has decided to include making a cow Prime Minister the highlight of their next election manifesto. along with computer literacy, i-pods and public toilets with air-conditioners - for cows.......................... I always knew human rights was a joke.
Hot news today: Water makes things wet.
Weather forecasts: The sky shall been seen blue for the most part of the next century, and water shall drop from the sky in what we call the rain.(NASA had to launch a satellite and cough up around a billion dollars in funding to confirm this one. ISRO just had to spend a few hundred rupees, photocopying is still cheap.).