Bleaarrghh

The Yo-yo

2009-11-09T02:24:00.006-05:00

My veins hold the force that is Him,
As He ascends to might.
He is King, living the Life.
The power surges through me tonight.

I bring the town to life,
As He marshals the living and animates the dead.
He will not let me slow down,
Because He wishes to outrun His head.

A thousand thoughts twirl around,
And actions executed in a frenzy
I am the sun,
Hot, fierce and free.

I am the life.
Reality seems to feed off my energy.
A million opportunities I present to the world,
As I seek to manipulate through the hierarchy.

I rise.

And then,
The power leaves as abruptly as it entered.
Almost like a blown fuse
Yesterday's king, today's fool
Lies spent and drowning,
In an ocean of refuse.

Treacherous thoughts torment listless soul,
As I recess deeper into nothingness.
Acid thoughts pouring out of an ever-widening bowl,
A bowl created by my now-impotent reality swallowing itself.

Reality is nothing but an insidious mind game anyway.
I clam up and sequester myself from the life I created,
And as I wallow in my own negativity, relishing ideas of melting away,
My bed holds my soul-less frame, suddenly emaciated.

Nothing can get worse,
Depression can be a whore.
Right now, I want opportunity to stop knocking,
Because I don't think I will answer that door.

I fall.

This feels like a perpetual motion roller coaster,
The vicissitudes that justify megalomania on one day,
And reduce one to toilet mold the day after.

In the grand scheme of things
Both extremes reconcile,
Therefore I am.

Day 8: Pain 90 X

2009-08-26T16:22:00.004-04:00

Act 1: Carmichael Gym
Not that this should reflect badly on Tony Horton's awesomeness, but i injured myself (through my own fault), in the gym yesterday (Tues). But i had an excellent workout, with all the elements that make a workout worthwhile: focus, motivation, high energy, and the one ingredient that I can do away with the next time: machismo.

Working out to impress other people is something I do not endorse, but impressing myself is a different story, and something that I love (Competition with my other half :D). So, I tried acting like I'm the incredible hulk, and I kinda bent over double (quite literally), trying to do just that. I thought I felt my lower back give way, as a shooting pain on the right side. I dropped my weight at this point, took a deep breath, and decided to 'bring it' nevertheless. And I did bring it: the Pain that is.

By the end of Ab ripper I felt like I was going to be toast, but my lower back didn't really complain too much for the remainder of the workout.

Act 2 :(The Bed, 12 hours later)

I can't get up. I've been moaning the past 7 hours as the pain throbs away.

The Result: No plyometrics today. I is a sad sad boy.

Day 6, Day 7

2009-08-25T23:17:00.001-04:00

Farted around (I wasn't supposed to)

Reason: Poor diet

Day 5

2009-08-22T16:17:00.002-04:00

Yoga.
Sounds really spaced out. But power yoga isn't. Gerry and I went through our motions, and 'brought it'. Brilliant workout.
And the daily record-your-shit-in-your-blog-in-a-funny-way thing is already wearing me thin.

Day 4

2009-08-20T23:10:00.003-04:00

Today: Shoulders and Arms.

I had my ass handed to me in this workout. Poor diet today, fatigue from lack of quality sleep, and muscle soreness contributed to a really shitty workout. I could lift barely half the weight I normally do. And this had to be followed by Ab Ripper X, which is like a little joke. For now, Ab Ripper X is a source of entertainment for all my other gym rats. Gerry and I whine like the star cast of Teenage Girls Losing Their Virginity to Black Daddy-O. Not cool.

Yoga tomorrow.

Day 3

2009-08-20T15:24:00.001-04:00

Rest. 'Nuff said, I was pooped.

Day 2

2009-08-18T16:48:00.003-04:00

A bit under the weather today, with a slight asthma like feeling from worshiping the devil, and general lethargy due to lack of sleep (bed bugs). Tonight, Chest and Back. I feel it is going to be one really crappy workout. Fuck you, elements!!

The Result
I eat my words. Chest and Back, and Ab Ripper X made me feel like puking everything out today. I 'brought it' with my Chest and Back, but I was already bought out by the time i did Ab Ripper X, so it was really kinda lame, with me doing 7 reps of each Absercise. I still like my form in the exercises, so its just a matter of time before the reps start flowing too. I feel ripped already. I guess the two beers and wings after that would definitely help me 'get there' by tomorrow!

Tomorrow: Yoga X (this little two hour jaunt will make me feel like i've been excreted out of a python, but that's tomorrow)

The P90X Blog: Day 1

2009-08-17T15:13:00.006-04:00

Alright, the times call for action. Infact, they have been calling since January: when I wanted to get this program started. For the uninitiated, this is a workout program that will transform me into the Red Dragon (I like Thomas Harris' work; Red Dragon, Buffalo Bill, Hannibal etc.) in three months. This is gruelling as crap, and therefore, I will need to maintain a blog of records to see how I progress. Anyway, thanks Ian for getting me on this program, and thanks Tony, for your sheer awesomeness.

I have been doing this program on and off, never continuously, over the past 6 months, and sadly they've never paid off, partly because I tend to overdo my shit and then fatigue out after 2 weeks, and also that my diet program mirrors that of Kate Moss'.

This is a ditch attempt at regulation, and hopefully, there will be an entry everyday.

Right now, I weigh a shade below 180 lbs, at around 16% bodyfat (conservative estimate). My arms and legs are my weakest link. Most of my strength is explosive, with very poor endurance and stamina. Hopefully, all these factors level out with some discipline. My aim is to get my body fat to around 10% and my weight to around 173lbs. In layman terms, I need to push my potbelly IN.
On a scale of 10
Strength- 6
Stamina- 3
Flexibility- 7
Power- 4
Definition- 3

Today: Monday- Chest and Back/ Ab Ripper X
Nice way to begin a monday, because it is 'doable' (for me), gets me all big and rawring; and one workout where I complete up to 80% of the workout before i get pooped. Ab Ripper X follows this workout, and it's going to make me wish I was never born.

Ab Ripper X
This is to be done today, and my abs again lack endurance. But I will do it and make an entry once completed.

The Result
Things went awry once again. Chest and Back has been rescheduled to when the gym's open, and me and Mr. Gerry Antony did some plyometrics today. I was still stiff from some Yoga two days ago but Gerry really 'brought it'. We completed the entire workout, and I nearly died of exhaustion. An excellent workout.

Buffalo Bill and religion

2009-08-10T00:30:00.010-04:00

Was Buffalo Bill somehow aiding the cosmos in conducting a micro scale pro-evolution cleansing of sorts, as also creating a temporary genetic bottleneck in the human species. Now his plan (which if expanded to scale would be awesome) involved actions where large women were systematically eliminated and skinned. Aside from taunting the fur industry and creating a new advertising platform for PETA, Bill also sought to curb population by reducing the main resource pool and thus creating more competition strife and therefore, wars- thus achieving the dual advantage of i)attrition and destruction and ii)lesser chances of birthing healthy kin that live up to reproductive age (remember Hiroshima and Nagasaki). Oh wait, what about "natural" selection? Natural selection (artificially enforced by Bill) would aid the evolution of thinner (fat women are coats), and less attractive(to reduce competition)women as a coping mechanism to the onslaught. But not all evolution is beneficial. Evolution under stress could impact the overall strength of the surviving species by forcibly making them adapt to a severe environment using nature's limited survivalistic arsenal, which reduces the overall quality of the organism. This is kinda like proteins denaturing under thermal stess. The quality of life is inevitably strained (as against ‘mercy’), as the Shylock of Misery tightens his noose.
Anyway, the point was that thin chicks cannot bear kids and are therefore, hindered. The chicks with fat asses had a better chance at propagation but were systematically wiped out by Buffalo Bill’s grand schemes of world domination. So thin chicks= no more evolution. Evolution would then eventually transform us into a bunch of hermaphrodites by way of natural selection. Us males will have to then put our egos aside for the greater good, and dig ourselves a vagina somewhere on us, and fuck ourselves. But then, if we do that, where do the wars go? Kids will therefore have to be born precocial, requiring minimum rearing. Hah, and by the looks of it, if my kid was hermaphrodite, I’d go kill it and that shemale whore I had sex with and got pregnant by.

Anyway, if ALL of this happened, Buffalo Bill would have to live long enough to be God. We would start venerating him as the Prophet. Buffalo Bill would be God of the spineless hermaphrodites, who performed a miracle and healed the problem of the 'sexes', and made us all 'equal'. His well meaning misogyny would pave the way for a new religion, replacing all older religions and ways of life. Misogynistic prophets are really popular even today. Any guesses?

The Thesis of a Master

2009-04-10T13:13:00.007-04:00

A thesis, as defined by www.wikipedia.org, my favorite stop for all information that is trivial, is "a document that presents the author's research and findings and is submitted in support of candidature for a degree or professional qualification"

Thesis comes from a Greek word that means testes (NOT!), and the etymology can be traced back to ancient Greece where the student-teacher relationship was a little more than just, well, student-teacher. "Thesis" is what issues from your mouth, as a gurgle, when somebody grabs your balls in a vice grip while you're saying the word "testes" to indicate what you feel about the entire graduate process (Ba!!$ to that!!). If that was funny (hahaw!), I'm still trying to understand how the Greek fags came up with the word "Dissertation". Wikipedia says it is comes from the Latin "dissertatio", which MUST be a combination of dessert + fellatio. They had to resort to that in the days of yore when there weren't any Powerpoint presentations or weekly Word reports to ahem, "please" your adviser. Especially in ancient Greece, where gay pedophilia was common (I could be misinformed here because most grad students are above 18 and aren't really 'pedo', so to speak; and greek guys didn't speak latin anyway, unless they wanted some pick up lines for visiting "teachers" who spoke Latin. An excerpt would be"
Teacher: Ah, graduate student, lemme have some fun
Eager student: Ah, well, teacher....et tu dissertatio?
Teacher: I have a wife back home, but well, if it's for your mastur's, i guess we can)

Here's the body of the essay. I have spent two years in my solitary shell now and my time has finally come. I need to compress two years of my graduate life into 80 pages of a "thesis" that no one hopefully reads, and my life outside school into 3 paragraphs of nonsense for a blog no one reads anyway.

Results and discussion- I am the result of poor housekeeping. So are you. Discussions will be appended as time passes.

Conclusion. Kindly lead the way Lord, and I shall follow like a lamb: meek, well fed, stupid as dirt and ready for slaughter.

The terror attacks and other jokes..

2008-11-29T17:12:00.012-05:00

I firstly salute our brave Soldiers. They are our Light. May they live Forever. May they be an example to everyone of us.

I now have a question: Have we failed as a democracy?

We're the largest democracy because we are a horny, deprived mass of worms. We surely can't and shouldn't be proud of this statistic. We're also a successful democracy. Now how is that? Because we're worms and worms cannot think. Individual worms invent great ideas (maybe), but we're still so intent on devouring all the garbage that's there (eat while it lasts), and then fuck some more and make sure our next of kin get to eat too, while it lasts. So there we are, eating shit, reproducing some more, and guarding our territory by piss marking (however worms do it) our territories.
Meanwhile, there is a question of a vote (like any "responsible" democracy). It's kinda like my mom asking me what I want for lunch tomorrow while I'm having dinner tonight. I'm so full of food i really can't think of food anymore. So I say, "whatever, ma". And I get Whatever. And I can't eat it the next day.
So while we stay fed, we don't give a shit. This is called Myopia or shortsightedness. Unity. Pride. Responsibility. Accountability. These are values to be looked into, when someone comes by and sprays insecticide or decides to clear away the carcass that we feed from. Suddenly, we have worms who decide that we live for a greater cause (gathering more resources, so we don't die). So, Raj Thackeray decides his portion of the carcass is gone, proceeds to collect all like-minded worms, and drives other worms away. While there's confusion everywhere, the worms don't realize that this fascism is a product of the "Whatever, we're full!" vote that they cast themselves. Other worms eat away while the carcass still lasts. And fuck some more.
So we now get to a point where one portion of the carcass is free, because all worms have killed themselves. Along comes Mr. Vulture, finishing off the carcass. Many worms die. The others march on, homeless, still fucking, unconcerned- "We need a new carcass!"
We know this doesn't happen too much in nature. Worms infest, and never go away. They don't have fascist leaders. Nor do they speak 26 languages.
"Mee Mumbaikar". Apparently we are a hardy lot. We still travel in trains the day after the blasts. We get to our work on time. Because we don't have a choice. We need to feed our young. Get our share of the spoils too. And then get the media glorifying the "Spirit of Mumbai". We are just in conformance with Darwin's theory of fucking and evolution. In Freudian terms, we're still driven by our Id. Democracy, autocracy, gerontocracy, we don't give a shit. Because we're still looking for two meals and new underwear. We truly don't care, even after three attacks on our land, and scores of innocents killed. Such is the spirit of the "rugged" Mumbaikar. Thinking of which, worms don't squeal as they die, nor do other worms seem to care. They must be pretty brave! Lets make an ad campaign!!!
You promise us two meals a day, you become our new leader. And I love the way you make us feel special- "Sons of the soil come first." "Marathi Maanse, Marathi Mane." Heck, you can rape us in the ass!

We are a bunch of string puppets, dancing to a discordant system. Democracy is a sham. A country for the people, by the people. Definitely doesn't work with worms.

"Unsuspecting, willing, blind, controllable herd
Pawns in a covert game conducted by hands we trust
Dominated, compliant and deceivable
Confident that we matter - we don't see that we're but dust."

Cut to the Mumbai terror attacks. We could've advertised "Happy Hours for all Survivors" in our pubs. This is nothing new. It's just like a gruesome lottery system. If you win, you get to live. If you lose, well, you get to be in many places at a time, if the bomb's nice and strong. Like a spliff of strong Purple Haze.

Mr. Thackeray is involved with the Lashkar-e-Toiba. Even if he denies it. Let's analyze why. Because he distracted our police for just so long with his jingoistic crap. They came in, got wind of all our posts, chinks in our armor (lol!_chinks in our armor) and in the time he distracted the baby by clinking the rattle, the injection was administered. NOW, that the JOB is done, they would be drinking to Raj Thackeray's health at one of the Lashkar-e-Toiba frat parties. Go saffron! Or wait. Is it really green?

The Militants proved, and keep proving time and again: WE WILL FUCK WITH YOU. We challenge you to fight back. Which is really funny!
Vultures challenging Worms to FIGHT BACK?? Isn't that going to a gross mismatch? I can even think of a Vulture on Ants fight. Ants fight back as an army. Not with Mee Mumbaikars, please. We're a bunch of worms. We won't fight, BUT, we can prove to you that we will still remain feeding, EVEN AFTER you've killed, raped and ravaged the most of us.
And the militants give us what we ask for. While we shop at the 300 million malls that Mumbai has recently acquired to further clog its landscapes, watch our soaps and live away in a realm of indifference and powerlessness, they slip from under our noses and do their thing. Heck, atleast they are united in their purpose!

"It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence."
-Mahatma Gandhi

M.K.Gandhi was truly a great man. To me, the present situation seems akin to beating a paraplegic with a barbed belt. He cannot FEEL, he is powerless to FIGHT back. He just WISHES that you'd stop doing it!
We need more forced conscriptions into our armed forces, just to teach ourselves to be humans, and live in a faceless, martial world, to be resourceful. That will bring out the warriors in us. Everyone of us "Mee Mumbaikar" maggots needs this. If we know we're in the "hippest" city in India, I guess we should also learn to shoot from the hip, just like Mr. Qasab (our terrorist has a name!) did on the C.S.T platform. Fight fire with fire. Be prepared atleast, if nothing.

We have five terrorists who are still at large. I think they're coming back for Christmas and New Years, when Mumbai celebrates its "Spirit" again. Here's my Intelligence Input: Stay the fuck at home. Be scared. If you lose your hands or legs, or heck, your life, you won't be able to go to work the next day!!!

"Bloodied hands lead the waltz
We're trapped in the out of tune swirl
Still we set the show on continue mode
And dance to a discordant system

We accept the nails we're fed
Lies sharpened to bleed us silent
Muted from the pains
Defiance employed in vain
Any attempts to leave the dance,
Invisibly suppressed
Questions unasked, we learn learn the steps
Eyes shut like all the rest."
- "Dancers To A Discordant System", Meshuggah

Teenage Magnetic

2008-09-11T13:59:00.004-04:00

Metallica Nostalgia is back. After a very long time now.

Cut back in time to 1999. My first brush with Metallica came with the Black Album, borrowed off my neighbor upstairs.
Unlike everyone else, my kicks from the album were 'Don't Tread on Me' and 'Wherever I May Roam'.
2000: My first rebellion, in my Metallica T-shirt. I wore that baby for the next three years, day in, day out. Sleep. Eat. Wear Metallica.
By which time I had already progressed to heavier music. More rebellion. Flipping people off never felt so good!!
Meanwhile, Metallica had disappeared, releasing less than ordinary stuff that in my opinion, are painful. My Metallica Tshirt, meanwhile was torn up and used as a ragcloth by my Mom, who is a woman of resource. She thought I ought to look smart in the latest teen clothing. My Dad agreed. Mom bought me a bright blue checked shirt to compensate for it. I think I blew a fuse that day.
That was almost like a rite of initiation, into the mundane. Goodbye Mr. Rebel. Welcome Mr.Staid.

New blood joins this earth
And quickly he's subdued
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules

With time the child draws in
This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man struggles on and on he's known
A vow unto his own
That never from this day
His will they'll take away
- "The Unforgiven", Metallica

Metallica was slowly replaced by obscure World Music. Rebellion by Conformity. I finally started aging, accepting. Accepting that I'm just another guy in this world.
To date, acceptance has been my most significant quality. You suck ass: I'd say it's OK man, not everyone is as cool as I am, I accept that we're equal otherwise...hey you're better at Math. You double cross me: It's alright budz, we could be friends again. Wow!! Can someone pass me my Balls please.

On the eve of Death Magnetic, a throwback to the And-Justice-For-All era of the eight-minute-walls-of-noise, I've been treated to previews of what the new album must sound like. IT SOUNDS LIKE WHAT METALLICA ALWAYS SHOULD. Welcome back Masters. Get my anger back up, make me feel like I'm sixteen again, like I can take on the world.

I Just stepped off the Boat and got Wet

2008-07-23T09:29:00.003-04:00

So I’ve stayed in Raleigh, North Carolina for five months now. The Promised Land. The Land of Opportunity. The Land of…the list can go on. People jump off the plane conjuring up visions: party every day, six girlfriends, New York City, driving sports cars down superhighways at 200 miles an hour, excel in academics (gives your folks something to brag about!), sip martinis in Miami, hustle with the hoi-polloi in Hollywood, and generally live out their own versions of The American Dream. All of this in Graduate School!!
I jumped off that plane too. And landed on the tarmac.

Indian students who go abroad are different from the other students who go to graduate school. We have the entire package: brains, beauty, slave dedication for our firang masters (the colonial hangover still exists!), a good measure of cunning and lastly, the Godsend Gift of Procrastination. Our advisers love us because we work SO HARD! We possess superhuman powers, because when we’re out of UICT, we usually know what it is to go Full Tilt Slog in the death overs.

Which brings me to the main issue: So what do we do when we’re not studying?

Well, we try to do all the stuff in paragraph 1. Unfortunately, university towns are not modeled too much after Las Vegas, so options are few. Firstly, America doesn’t have the Walas: xeroxwala, paanwala, cyclewala, samosawala, chaiwala, rikshawala that are doorstep conveniences.
Instead, you can opt to buy a car if you like! ...And stay broke and hungry for the next four months. (This way, you can lose weight and go places too!). Not many opt for this option sadly. But students with cars rank highest in the pecking order here in the Indian student community. Explains why people have their cars as their display pictures on Orkut.
You can also ride the public transport here: buses stop by every HOUR and make three stops: your home, a random place, and the main bus stop, which is situated away from culture and civilization. America has more cars than people, so unless you’re in a crowded metro in NYC, you see only cars and people everywhere else. You’re pretty much stuck here if you don’t have the Moolah and the Car.

So what DO you do, if fate lands you in the Rest-of-America-except-NYC-or-LA?
You generally stick around with your brood of broody, disgruntled Indian youth whose 'American Dream' crashed, and talk about Holy Wars on the Land That Feeds You. You go to their homes if they cook well and get your week’s quota of spices in your system (hyderabadi cuisine mmm!), sit and watch movies at home (torture), celebrate cultural differences with your roommates by yelling them down when they crank the volume on Telugu rap too high, and work really hard!

The reason for my dissatisfaction stems from my cosmopolitan outlook, and that I expect too much out of the place I live in. America is packaged to us idiots in a nutshell as the Promised Land, which is pure sensationalism at its ugly worst. Where are the conveniences? Public transport?? I thought Mumbai was bad and crowded; hell, this place don't have no transport!! The conveniences? Oh, we can always DRIVE down wherever.

We jump off that plane to see Brand America. The notion that everything is Easy here is just as real as the notion that spraying Axe® can land you five hot Scandinavian models. Brand America is good: but only on TV. No one notices the hard work that goes into it. That’s advertising now, isn’t it?

Our best revenge is to create a Brand India, that’s just irresistible. When they jump off the plane like we do now, to see The India of smart, savvy global people, we can get those sorry buggers and kill them with our spices and hot sauce. We need to start thinking and get this Brand revolution going…. And also get me a car.

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“Is it a rebellion?" asked Louis XVI of the count who informed him of the fall of the Bastille.

"No, sire," came the reply. "It is a revolution."

2008-04-18T11:04:00.000-04:00

I need to be an ordered unit. I consider my life expendable, which can allow me to take more risks. I'm still a lump of clay, like a jug of water, like a splatter of cowdung; all mass, no order. No prejudice. No nothing.I need challenge to keep me awake. I need to be pushed to go any which direction. The harder you push, the harder I go. I don't require intellect whatsoever. I just need to push my physical barrier, doing repetitive labor till I collapse. I need an iron shackle on my head, to keep me from thinking. Because thinking is the bane of my existence as an efficiency machine. I am thinking too fast for my typing speed, so this looks as incomplete and fucked up like it does. Thinking is the BANE of my existence.I am like your bullet. Not right now, but that's the job i'm looking at. LOAD AND FIRE.

2007-10-17T14:41:00.001-04:00

Humor is the spiciest condiment in the feast of experience. Laugh at your mistakes but learn from them, joke over your troubles but gather strength from them, make a jest of your difficulties but overcome them.

[From Anne of the Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery, 1915]

From Frying Pan into Sink: Story of Old Ribeye-the-Third

2007-10-14T12:11:00.002-04:00

It was a long, arduous wait. And he was old, weary and stiff from age, hardened by the elements. All he could do now was to lie in wait for his coming. He was old, he knew that, but he was a warrior, all the flesh, blood, gristle and spice that made him who he was right now. He was prepared to fight and smite hard if he needed to get out and swim the open seas of freedom. That’s where his life’s toil lay, and he knew he’d die after he escaped from the cavern they called Mut-Cer, out through the Gates of Suna, but that’s how generations and generations of his forebears had perished. In delirious ecstasy. Swimming the blue oceans of Edommoc, and going like true warriors, down the maelstrom that the Edommoc conjured up from time to time, into the murky depths of salvation, screaming bloody gore.

The silence and darkness was punctuated by a long sigh.

He was a grand old hulk. But at one hundred and seventy eight, he was beginning to feel the stiffness in his amorphous form. Two generations of warriors lay in wait behind him, dormant (their turn to struggle would come only after he had made his escape to freedom). He paused to think about struggles and escapes and breaking away from the drudgery of his existence. Why did they all crave escape??

Perhaps that was his destiny. And he let out a tired, windy moan. And collapsed, comatose.

He awoke twelve hours later, the pitch black silence punctuated by a slight rumble in the cavern. Several quaking rumbles later, he saw the Third Generation of Warriors storm up and occupy positions behind him. They were young, supple and by the looks of them, they did seem like roughage. Definitely not HIS kinds. He was a grand old hulk from the Ribeye clan. Pureblood.

Along with them, however, came an angel, whom he immediately recognized for who she was. His great grand warrior uncle, Lord Ribeye-Steak-The-Bulky, had told him in his dying throes about Evi, the high priestess, and how she’d seen him off at the Gates of Suna. He cried tears of relief.

She had come to deliver him to Edommoc, his salvation as he knew it.

“I’m waiting, oh fair Evi Taxal, High Priestess of The Roughage Clan. I waited all my life for you. Take me, I’m yours.”

She spoke, and he realized how powerful she was, because the Mut-Cer seemed to quake in fear and rumble violently when she spoke. And yet, her voice was an ethereal, reassuring sigh.

“ Ribeye-the-third, your time has come. Today, you will throw your weight against the Gates of Suna, and emerge victorious”

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SmileyFace felt the need to take a shit. Real bad. Inactive lifestyle, alcohol and smack, and bad food had made him bloat up. Eight days had passed since his last tryst with the bathroom commode. He’d swallowed some industrial strength laxative last night. Come morning, and he made a dash.He was high, real fucking high though. He felt the need to “delete some of them clogging files, get them outta the recycle bin.” He kept reminding himself that he had a 3400 gB hard drive, but the need to “empty my recycle bin” was intense.

He needed to delete an entire movie, yeah that's what he needed to do. And strangely, that movie had a Warrior fighting for freedom on it, someone called by the name of the steak he ate a week ago.

He felt the push. Coming. NOW!

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Flash of light as Suna starts caving out. The Edommoc, calm, still and metallic(?) down below. Ribeye fights, Evi Taxal roughing her way through. Ribeye loses cool, forces open the gates of Suna, tearing through.

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“BLEeeaarrrgghhhh..oh my dear Jesus!!!!!” He had moved.

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Ribeye fragments due to the shear strain and dismembers himself as he leaves the Gates. But he feels no pain. He is a turd after all. The rest of his body joins him, as Suna heaves and contracts angrily, like a one-eyed monster. They LAND on the HARD Edommoc(????)( they told him about floating, calm seas(?)) but the struggle’s not over yet. The maelstrom must come any moment now.

Any moment now.

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“Why is there no fucking flush on this thing??? ..where the fuccccck is the fucc flllush, aww Gaawwwd..gaawwwddddd' SmileyFace crying in pain, hyperventilating and panic stricken.

'Hey… there seems to be lika fecking tap on this thing heheheheheheheh….and thaatsss my coffee mug of lika yesterday something..I’m flllyyyiiiiinggggggggggg woohoo”

“ MUTHAFUCKA, GET YOUR DOPED ASS OFFA MA KITCHEN SINK. NOW!!!! OH YOU SONOFA…YOU’RE DEAD MAAANN...DEAD…..EWWWW!!....YOU CRAPPED IN MAA SINK MUTHAFUCKA...YOU'RE DEAD AS A STONE NOWWW!!!”

WHACKK! SmileyFace fell off the sink, smarting from the pain of a sucker punch..

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One hundred ninety hours old, and so far away from the Edommoc, Ribeye realized his salvation was not coming anytime soon.

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Rosetta Stoned (lyric text)

2007-09-07T00:23:00.000-04:00

Alrighty, then ... picture this if you will.

10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes,
in my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51
Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thingy
when a flaming stealth banana split the sky
like one would hope but never really expect
to see in a place like this.
Cutting right angle donuts on a dime
and stopping right at my Birkenstocks,
and me yelping...

Holy fucking shit!

Then the X-Files being,
Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan
with Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of
vanilla Chig Champa
Did a slow-mo Matrix descent
Outta the butt end of the banana vessel
And hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw,
and my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip,
and all I could think was:
"I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice
that I pissed my fuckin' pants."

So light in his way,
Like an apparition, [that]
He had me crying out,
"Fuck me
It's gotta be
the Deadhead Chemistry
The blotter got [right] on top of me
Got me seein' E-motherfuckin'-T!"

And after calming me down
with some orange slices
and some fetal spooning,
E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose.
He said, "You are the Chosen One,
the One who will deliver the message.
A message of hope for those who choose to hear it
and a warning for those who do not."
Me. The Chosen One?
They chose me!!!
And I didn't even graduate from fuckin' high school.

You'd better...
You'd better...
You'd better...
You'd better listen.

Then he looked right through me
With somniferous almond eyes
Don't even know what that means
Must remember to write it down
This is so real
Like the time Dave floated away
See, my heart is pounding
'Cause this shit never happens to me

I can't breathe right now!

It was so real,
Like I woke up in Wonderland.
All sorta terrifying
I don't wanna be all alone
While I tell this story.
And can anyone tell me why
Y'all sound like Peanuts parents?
Will I ever be coming down?
This is so real
Finally, it's my lucky day
See, my heart is racing
'Cause this shit never happens to me

I can't breathe right now!

You believe me, don't you?
Please believe what I've just said!
See the Dead ain't touring
And this wasn't all in my head.
See, they took me by the hand
And invited me right in.
Then they showed me something
I don't even know where to begin.

Strapped down to my bed
Feet cold and eyes red
I'm out of my head
Am I alive? Am I dead?
Can't remember what they said
God damn, shit the bed.

Hey ...

Overwhelmed as one would be, placed in my position.
Such a heavy burden now to be the One
Born to bear and bring to all the details of our ending,
To write it down for all the world to see.

But I forgot my pen
Shit the bed again ...
Typical.

Strapped down to my bed
Feet cold and eyes red
I'm out of my head
Am I alive? Am I dead?
Sunkist and Sudafed
Gyroscopes and infrared
Won't help, I'm brain dead
Can't remember what they said
God damn, shit the bed

I can't remember what they said to me
Can't remember what they said to make me out to be the hero
Can't remember what they said
Bob help me!
Can't remember what they said

We don't know, and we won't know

God damn, shit the bed!

- Tool. "Rosetta Stoned", 10000 Days.

just something a little more powerful and 'abstract',than "how MJ scared me.".....not that I was influenced in any way by these lyrics while doing that. I worship Tool, so i figured i might as well do some brown nosing, and add a little jazz to the dying page. The lyrics are also really funny when viewed from an insider's perspective (I'm on the periphery, not yet inside, but I can look and guess what's happening!!)

I have never gone down this lane, and I don't think I will. Cold turkey tastes good when eaten, not when experienced.

OMG..

2007-08-18T12:20:00.001-04:00

It's all in the mind.

We fly, swim and burrow underground, because, we have mastered our mind, or almost. The only animals who could do it. We've mastered the id, channelizing its raw, impulsive and instinctive energy into a more refined ego, something that is a bit more deliberate. Our ego, that dictates how we lead our life, a life that we have refined already.

Religion is getting to have a more diverse meaning today.

(1).........What started off as a way to encourage an individual to surrender his/her ego to someone or something that is OMNIPOTENT (anything beyond your control, that you could never by any means, subdue or conquer, could qualify: be it mother nature, a mutant with an elephant's head and four arms, a dead man rising from his grave three days later, or just a desert junkie talking shit about a promised land (my personal favorite asshole!!) slowly became more of a way of life along centuries, with random edicts and decrees slowly finding their way into this melting pot (it was basically a hodge podge of ideas, coming from people who had the maximum number of wives, or cows, or a maximum of anything, or from people who O.D ed on hallucinogens the previous night and woke up the next day, running around, telling people about their 'vision', in 'cryptic' language........ they didn't have the blogs!!).

(2)........Now, over the centuries, it has become more of an archaic procedure- outdated language, outdated customs, etc etc. Why?
I recite my salutations to the SUN GOD in a language i cannot understand, the purpose of which is unknown. I am disillusioned. Not because i don't believe. It is because i am not communicating and speaking to GOD. I am executing a set of instructions, like a brainwashed zombie. GOD is not my mother anymore, not the reassurance that i need. GOD is a mad scientist and I am the zombie. Where is the fucking salvation here??
Most of the disillusioned people chose to walk away, and call themselves atheists. Does that mean they don't believe, in anything?

(3)........Religion is all about learning and mastering your mind. What started off as a learning curve slowly degenerated into a power equation, with the focus more towards expansion, and imposition of one's belief on another......the usual human tendency anyway!!!!
But GOD is a more personal being, and is unique to every individual. Because every individual seeks solace or comfort for a different kind of obstacle in his/her life.

(4)..........By GOD, i do not mean belief in a religion. It is just an entity that we can create, using our very rich imagination, of something that cannot be won over, or conquered(see omnipotent), something that can give us what we want, and take away what we don't want. This entity has the power to punish, to reward, to create, to destroy. Your entity or GOD can have a form or can choose not to. You are powerless its hands. This Entity is Omnipotent. This Entity is in your Mind. This Entity is clouded by your Ego.

(5)...........Your ego is made up of all the excess baggage, the thoughts, the experiences, the discomfitures, unrealized dreams, that form the walls of a huge matrix or a maze in your head. At the end of such a maze, sits the Entity. For everything you do that goes against your set of learned or self imposed rules, the walls of the maze become gnarlier and higher. They are just your unpleasant experiences building up and becoming scars, and rocks, in your mind. The Entity becomes much more distant. The belief that there is a figure guiding you, that's showing you out of dark pitfalls and traps, slowly vaporizes. Now you're on your own, pitted against your most dangerous enemy: your own Mind.

(6)............Picturize this as a real life situation, if the above para was too abstract. Pappu Pager wears his heart on his sleeve and really loves this girl. She doesn't know because he never told her, cos he's shy(aww!). She considers him to be just a friend (A general observation, but a very annoying trait in almost all girls,..how the f*** can we just be your friends, more so if we're single and keep acting like your minions all the time, obeying your every wish and whim??!!!). She tells him one day that she loves some unfortunate guy. PP goes home in a mad rage, hurt, disappointed etc..comes back with a butcher knife and, well, kills her for having 'cheated' on him. And kills himself in the passionate rage. LOL!!!
Objectively viewed, it seems silly...who'd want to really kill himself, there are so many people in the world that he could have gotten around with??
Unfortunately, poor fellow built walls in his mind all his life, so high, that when the pit came...he had no light to guide him and dived headlong into the abyss. He had long stopped believing in the light, since it never came; he last saw it as a baby.....and instead of making his way through the maze with a finality of destination, he groped through, leaning on the same gnarly, creeper covered walls that were his past. The learning, the enlightenment had long left him. Scientifically, this was termed as acute depression. Holistically, this is pitch darkness.

(7)...........We need to believe in this GOD because we need to have someone to blame it all on when the shit hits the fan. I mean, doesn't it take the entire load off you when you can find a scapegoat to blame when things go wrong? your own personal whipping boy?.. does it not allow you to take your mind off the stove, and instead focus on the end result? That same stoic belief that whatever pitfalls you face are nothing but little challenges thrown in your path by the OMNIPOTENT GOD that you believe in, and that the Entity wants you to learn. The GOD that wants you to get closer to it. When we say closer to God, we speak of a state of mind where nothing can touch you unless you WANT it to. God helps navigate through the maze of life inside your mind, rise above the mundane, and get closer and closer to it, throwing stuff at you to dodge, appreciating heartily when you do well, egging you on with a reassurance... With this belief held strong, anything that goes 'wrong' can be attributed to GOD as one of the many tests that it has in store for you. This allows you to DETACH YOURSELF AND WALK AWAY FROM ANYTHING. Anything that you were not supposed to involve yourself in, that is.

(7).............Arjuna said this(or something to this effect) to Lord Krishna after suddenly getting an attack of conscience on the battlefield(of all places huh!)
" I don't want to fight this war. I cannot bear to see my arrows killing my own kith and kin. I will lay down my arms right now."
Krishna at this point lectured him an entire 1000 odd pages of the Bhagavad Gita, which in my opinion is the most profound wisdom written into a book
" Arjuna, you are not to blame. You are not killing people. You are nothing but the INSTRUMENT, an instrument that is at my disposal to wipe out evil from this world. I, Narayana, Lord of the Universe and you, Arjuna, my instrument"
This was just a gist of what was said, but something that stared Arjuna in the face. DO YOUR DUTY, WITHOUT ASKING WHEN, WHERE OR WHY. Can you imagine how much courage, focus and self restraint this entails??? Possible, only if you act as the instrument of a higher power, with a sense of abandon.

Now this scene involved one of the worst crises a balanced human being could ever face, killing one's family members, or people, in cold blood. This situation is faced by soldiers on the battlefront. It would take immense amount of belief and courage to maintain a detached calm while doing something like this. We handle simpler tasks in life, like writing exams, working a 9 to 5 job and maintaining relationships with our kith and kin. We have our own problems, sickness, a poor job, no satisfaction from anything; the list goes on.

(8).............Here's where the belief is put into practical use- we need a helping hand, a reassurance, a stoic face to present to all of life's vicissitudes; all this can happen only if the strength comes from inside, a strength that we cannot always summon ourselves, but something that comes from an inherent belief in a benevolent power created by us, that HAS TO RESIDE IN US ALL THE TIME. Our problem is when we find ourselves lacking the ability to make, say, a public speech, or something that has to get us out of that MOULD or mindset. Act like God gave you the orders to speak as well as possible. If booed, blame it on God, accepting it as a test to do better. Walk on. Simple.

(9).............Call it arrogant self belief or whatever atheists will. I have my own GOD, a symbolic construction made in the ancient times. Large ears to listen, a big stomach to assimilate and digest any poison hurled at him, a serpent around his waist, to symbolize passions kept in check, he is the elephant god. I talk to him in a language I can understand, sacrificing my ego under a joker's mask everyday. He rewards me by teaching me values, about people, about things, about life.The faith has helped me treat life as a continuous learning curve, to learn from every experience, everyday and improve myself. I'm in search of that perfect existence, where there is NO hurt, pain, regret, sorrow, anger. I am learning a lot, learning to cope with a lot, smiling all the while because I know I am getting closer, inch by inch. It might just be imagined, but the very fact that my imaginations are a real occurrence gives me enough faith to draw more strength from my little god. For a person with a challenged sense of self belief all these years, this has been a shot in my arm. To each his own. I've found my scapegoat. Find yours.

2007-08-06T12:41:00.000-04:00

If you can think fondly of a woman after having spilled the seed, you're in love.

How M.J. scared me!

2007-08-01T14:54:00.000-04:00

The time's when,
every youth wanna groove.
Some dress to the nines and step out till ten
Others choose to crank up under their own roof
I for one, belong to category number 2,
The muggle who knew not how to play quidditch,
But chose to fly up in pungent wisp

The night is young,
Bats screeching their reassurances,
Inviting me over to their lair.
I think," I will, I will, in time,
Let me start my flying machine."

The night is still young,
The wisp begins to rise in the air.
Issuing forth out my nostrils,
Sharp gaze dissolving into a thousand yard stare.
Breaths turn to grunts as my airway develops frills.
Pupils wide, heart beating a steady tattoo
I'm turning into a firebreathing dragon.

I'm growing now, breathing out the filthy wisp.
I'm levitating now, the breeze cool and crisp.
I'm smooth as the wind, as I merge into the night.
I'm flying now, flying inside my mind

I'm just transforming, see.

The night is still young,
Bats screeching their reassurances,
Inviting me over to their lair.
I slowly speak, "I will, I will, in time,
Let me restart my flying machine"

I'm growing now, breathing out the filthy wisp
I'm levitating now, the breeze cool and crisp.
I'm smooth as the wind, as i merge into the night.
I'm flying now, flying inside my mind.

I'm done transforming now, quite like Mr.You-know-who.
My ears sharp and alert, my senses fine tuned
I've flown to my kitchen to fix me a cookie snack.
I hear a noise, and whirl around.
DID THE GODDAMNED FRIDGE JUST MOVE?

The crunch of the cookies sets off a domino effect.
Danny, you don't normally roll so much while doing "The Patient"
The drums now beating an equal tattoo as my heart is,
Slowly the two strike a horrible resonance.
I'm rising fast, hitting the blades of the fan.
Blood gushes out, free at last
A veritable Styx flowing out as the bats screech past.
Mice and vermin spurt out of my body decollate,
I sit back and watch, fully aware of my present state.

I'm wary now, breathing out the filthy wisp.
I'm palpitating now, the breeze cool and crisp.
I'm afraid now, afraid of the night.
I'm RUNNING now, running away from my mind.

The night is still young,
As i curse, beg and plead that it ends.
Bats screeching threats now,
I need to fly away, but i've forgotten how.

The night is my nemesis,
The bats mocking me,
The Styx curiously smelling like my now empty orange juice carton.
Bats inviting me over to their lair,
I scream, I yell, I sob, "Go away, Satan"
My gaze dissolving into a thousand yard stare.

Mary Jane, I love you,
I crave your hot and burning touch
But I'd really love it,
if you didn't scare me so much.

2007-08-01T13:40:00.000-04:00

thanks for reading this blog, feel free to shit wherever you like
This is going to be a sort of scratch pad for me, honing my existing whining skills and giving them body as they translate into the written word
I hope to receive opinions and feedback, because thats what I am made of, other people's shit.
I have such low self esteem like i'm........... blah blah blah....this sounds 'goth' and, kewl, yes it does.

Posing and whining to get attention, or appearing cool, is second nature to many. Guess the above para fits that bill to a T. ; )
Cheers.