camouflaged

the shadows they dance everywhere
stares at children and they scare
an evil lurking beyond the corner
all hidden in a genial demeanor

he lost his mind and did not mind
found something else to go find
soul sold and then he knew anew
he was not to speak just to do

so dreams were to be suspended
instead false hopes were vended
masks and shells further acquired
and now a new future required

stalking ground never yet trodden
growing roots in mud wet sodden
no escape red tape desolate cape
so breathless mouth stays agape

some ate of the apple so young
he left and left nothing unsung
died glad as only glad can be glad
no regrets.. or maybe just a tad

often we forget what we had started out as
and what we really wanted to be
this is for you, Layne Staley
and anyone who lost what we are

in the desperate struggle to find who we are

rock and a hard place

sometimes you are caught between a rock and a hard place

what haunts you more, expectations or memories? i can't make up my mind what taints my days and nights more..

disappointing is as disappointing does

sometimes you..

load up your plate too much and then can't finish it all,

juggle so many torches in the air that you lose count,

carry every cross you find until you can't even walk,

and then you..

have to throw away some food, and i really hate wasting food.

get burned by falling torches, and i don't like getting burned.

stumble and fall down hard, and i absolutely detest being weak.

the times

time never stands still. yet waiting for times to change is a test of patience in itself. we spend a lifetime anticipating the change, shoulders burdened with that anticipation. inevitable really. and of course, you are never ready for the times to change even when you know they will. we find it hard to break off the shackles of expectation, because of things.

things happen. we'd like to think they happen for the better, but sometimes they do happen for the worse. the sooner we make our peace with that and are ready to accept that, the easier it becomes to deal with it. or so we tell ourselves. yet we dream, that this good phase is the best phase, and will last forever.

forever is an anomaly. the only things that are certain to last forever are that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west tomorrow. if that fails to happen day after tomorrow then we'd know we're destined to live in interesting times. i hear that phrase has often been used as a curse - now i know why.

why is a question in itself. why gives us a reason to wake up and go out. it is the elusive donut that you crave, that perfect one that you want so bad, yet at the same time you are scared to discover because no other will be like it again. why is a question we want answered, but at the same time we don't; step forward fear.

fear is a drug. we get addicted to it. we are scared to be too happy for too long, for when it changes (like it most certainly will), it might be too hard. so we seek solace by slowly chipping away at our own confidence and abilities, self-destructing in the process. when things reach a tipping point, we topple over in cartoonlike slow motion, landing flat on our faces in the dust of time.

time never stands still.

i say..

.. happiness is not just a feeling..

it's a state of mind

and a sense of being.

it's unconditional acceptance

and a promise forever.

it's a purpose in life

and a hand to hold.

my favorite mistake

sometimes, you have to make the mistake, even when you know it's a mistake. there are certain things in life you do which you think might be a mistake but you don't know for certain it's a mistake until you go ahead and make that mistake, so that you can look back at it and say "yes, that was a mistake". this is because it's an even greater mistake to not make the mistake, for you go the rest of your life not knowing whether making that move was a mistake or not.

i have lived my life, my love, my career strewn with mistake after mistake, all so that i can have no regrets. so when i make another mistake, and possibly get hurt, i will look back with a smile and say "yes, that was a mistake.. one worth making".

the DJ will now take requests..

i've written about vagaries of the weather here in Buffalo
and spent some column inches on the days that follow
i've talked about decadent parties i've been to, people i met
and making some memories while i didn't even know that
i've spoken about Kenya my motherland where i grew up
and how i miss the home where my parents still sup
i've blogged about college life in Kgp - aka 'the village'
and how it was responsible for my coming of age
i've scribbled about graduate school and my research
and you've all probably thought it's quite a lurch

i've raved about my favorite music, and the great bands
and all the concerts at which i've pumped my hands
i've written-up about trips i've been on in this country
and travels, travails, travesties all quite sundry
i've averred about politics preferring to steer clear
and controversy has pretty much always been near
i've mumbled about things that rub me the right way
and some that piss me day after freakin' day
i've argued about causes that i strongly believe in
and i try to never shy away from speaking

so now i ask you, what else would you like to read here?

A Tale Of Two Sisters

there were two sisters Virginia & Mary-Jane
one was much fun and one was quite plain
the two together are even better though
good times and happy memories on the go

every time the two came over chaos ensued
the music was loud and there was food
we'd have a few drinks and laugh like crazy
and next morning things would be all hazy

thought we three'd be together forever
but society wouldn't let that happen ever
and though i knew they were no good for me
they made the days fun and the nights free

i had to leave Mary-Jane ten months back
sometimes her presence i really do lack
seen her around but not spoken to her
just fond thoughts of how we once were

and i leave Virginia as this month ends
i have to go, can't even be just friends
she's been there at the hardest moments
but she's killing me soft and intense

remembrances of us sitting and talking
through sunshine and snowfall walking
teasing and playing and moments intimate
it's time to leave, before it's too late.

PS: in case you didn't get it, maryjane and virginia are pseudonyms for weed and tobacco!

the 'F' word

WARNING: The following post is liable to be offensive.
Don't fucking read it if you're gonna be offended.

Perhaps one of the most interesting words in the English language today, is the word fuck. Of all the English words beginning with f, fuck is the single one referred to as the 'f-word'. It's the one magical word, just by it's sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love.

Fuck, as most of the other words in English, has arrived from Germany. Fuck is from German's 'fliechen' which mean to strike. In English, fuck falls into many grammatical categories:
As a transitive verb for instance, "John fucked Shirley"
As an intransitive verb; "Shirley fucks"
It's meaning is not always sexual, it can be used as the following too.
As an adjective such as; "John's doing all the fucking work"
As part of an adverb; "Shirley talks too fucking much"
As an adverb enhancing an adjective; "Shirley is fucking beautiful "
As a noun; "I don't give a fuck"
As part of a word: "abso-fucking-lutely" or "in-fucking-credible".
And as almost every word in a sentence: "Fuck the fucking fuckers!"

As you must realize, there aren't many words with the versatility such as the word fuck, as in these situations:
- fraud: "I got fucked at the used car lot"
- trouble: "I guess I'm really fucked now"
- dismay: "Oh, fuck it!"
- aggresion: "Don't fuck with me, buddy!"
- difficulty: "I don't understand this fucking question"
- inquiry: "Who the fuck was that?"
- dissatisfaction: "I don't like what the fuck is going on here"
- incompetence: "He's a fuck-off!"
- dismissal: "Why don't you go outside and play hide n' go fuck yourself?"

I'm sure you can think of many more examples.

With all these multi-purpose applications, how can anyone be offended when you use the word? Use this unique, flexible word more often in your daily speech. It will identify the quality of your character immediately. Say it loudly and proudly:

FUCK YOU!

Taken from Monty Python

'The Voicemail Menu' next?

In my teens, I was really wary of reading Stephen King's books, because his fantastic talent for creating psychological horror freaked me out much more than any monsters or ghouls! 'Cujo', 'It', 'The Shining', 'Needful Things'.. whew! But I stopped reading this bloke way back in the late '90s when all his stories started getting stereotypical, and his writing held nothing new for me. It seems Stephen King has finally exhausted Castle Rock, Maine of all its demons.. with no more ghosts and spirits to be found, he has started exorcising the world of modern-day evils.. his new book 'Cell' releases today, about diabolic cell phones!

Now, I'm tempted to write a few horror novels* too..

• '140 WPM': A beautiful woman is stranded in a gothic cathedral on a remote island and chased down lonely, dark corridors by a strange creature making clacking noises. The thing gets closer and closer, keeps getting bigger, bullets bounce off it until at last she realizes it is a supernatural typewriter churning out thousands of pages of formula horror novels in which people get chased down lonely, dark corridors by strange creatures. And it can't be stopped!


• 'Vente Latte': A spunky recently divorced single mom is stranded in a deserted Starbucks on an abandoned super-secret military base on a remote island during a power failure. The espresso maker comes to life as a hideous beast controlling an army of extra-shot double-half-skim peanut-caramel lattes. The recipes alone evoke horror! The heroine must defeat the living lattes without burning her hand on the coffee, which is very hot.


• 'Individually Wrapped': An evil multinational corporation prepares to market individually wrapped portions of toothpaste. A mysterious Indian shaman appears and recites an ancient Native American chant about not misusing the Earth. Suddenly everything that's individually wrapped comes to life seeking vengeance! Beautiful housewives die horribly when attacked by slices of American cheese. Handsome hunk college students die horribly when attacked by printer ink cartridges that were not recycled. In the finale, the sinister CEO is trapped in a gigantic abandoned warehouse at a deserted corporate research facility deep in the woods during a hailstorm. All the wasteful environmentally damaging products the company was testing - prescription food, disposable one-use-only shoes, remote-control bras - come to life and attack him.


• 'Double-A': We're surrounded by devices that work on batteries. We use the batteries until they fail and them toss them into the trash. What if the batteries are angry about being thrown away? What if a supernatural demonic being from another dimension gave the batteries the power of revenge? Remember, they're full of deadly acid.

*from Greg Easterbrook, at NFL.com

meandering

sometimes i glimpse the end, it shows itself in short flashes
but i keep my head down, false expectations lead to crashes

   

the paths there are myriad, the chances of getting lost high
the correct road there one, and the minutes ticking away nigh

ode to a memory

so we'll meet again, when the sun shines right
when it will rain, and the stars sparkle bright
snows dull the pain, in the dead of the night
my lips you'll stain, in my brain you'll light

on the other side, where it's always greener
a fancy-filled ride, a thought that's clearer
alcohol never lied, trips made so much dearer
hits that never died, highs that were nearer

so here's a toast to all of you lighting up

knock knock?

i love the word 'knock'.. it's such a flexible word, and can be used in so many situations. who knew that knocking boots didn't actually refer to footwear, but action two feet higher up?! of course, you're in for the knock then if you knock a girl up, cos sure as hell her daddy's gonna come knockin' on a few doors! just cos she has a great pair of knockers doesn't mean you should knock more than a kiss! hey, it's a hard-knock life.

but if her daddy catches you then he's gonna knock you silly, knock you out, knock you cold or knock you dead. or maybe you could knock him for a loop and disappear.. that'd knock him. you knock things you don't like, but don't knock 'em before you try 'em. if you don't like the job then knock some money off the top, or knock over the cash till, but if you get busted then you're knocked. the cops are gonna knock seven bells outta you if you don't confess, and in jail you sure as hell are gonna get your ass knocked. you have to take the knocks for your actions.

when i'm hungry i knock together a few things in a pan, and sit with a beer or two to knock back. but if i knock more than four then i get really knocked. i like me a good dark beer, not the cheap-ass knockoffs. it'd be great to get a job where i can knock off some time in the afternoons for a siesta, they wouldn't knock me for it unless i was knocking on deadlines of course! and when i'd knock off on friday night, i'd knock the boys together and we'd go knock some knees and shake some boo-tay.

all this knocking, if i add a section on knock-knock jokes we could knock off a book here! maybe i should knock it off,and just go knock back and relax. and always remember the trailerpark etiquette: don't come knockin' if the trailer's rockin'..

be what you want to be

people spend all their lives competing.. competing in class, on the field, at work.. everywhere. i feel all these battles are secondary, cos there's only one real fight in life, and that's with yourself.. and there's one real challenge in life, to be the best that you can be. so go out there, win your personal battles, and see everything else take care of itself!

a teacher called Ms. Experience

experience is such a funny thing.. we all have our very own experiences, and our own way of remembering things. similarly, we all take away very different lessons from what life throws at us. so no matter how much people warn you about their bad experiences, you never learn until you've been burned yourself. i guess in a way it's a good thing, as we all have to learn for ourselves.. we came to this world alone, and will leave alone too.

but when you've already been hurt, and don't want to see a loved one go through the same, it really is a Catch-22 situation: let the person go through with it and get hurt, and learn? or protect them so that they don't get hurt, but not learn either?

now that i look back at it, my parents were amazing, balancing the perfect amount of restraint: i messed up lots, got stung quite often and learned loads.. but grew up pretty straightforward, and without suffering any serious traumas or mental instability.. i think! ;-)

down in a.. nutshell

feeling me now being what i wanted to be
seeing me bow to the God i yearned to be
downed by the storm that swirls inside

speaking no more of the feelings beneath
leaking no words from the grinding teeth
crowned by the king that tries to hide

trying to fly by wings that were so denied
prying to find the eyes that were so blind
found by the home that whirls to ride

sleeping to hear a voice calling me inside
creeping to allow foregone mistakes slide
bound by a parody in reality applied

fleeing a forgiveness sought of God done
freezing the coldest winter chill in no sun
aground on a heaven where it's tried

This is a part tribute to one of my favorite bands, Alice In Chains

higher education

we start off knowing a little about lots of things,
then we know more and more about less and less,
and finally we know everything about nothing.

adventitia

greater than tomorrow, this picture so perfect
wasted don't swallow, spit out the reject
not made to follow, the leader's a defect
mind like an arrow, still sharp and erect
a minute to ponder

indifference, maybe?

it takes a certain kind of girl to be quite incurious of her boyfriend's past amours..

a certain amount of diffidence and security to not care much about who he's been with and where he's been with whom.. (does that make her apathetic?)

a certain amount of faith and trust to know that there won't be any sort of recurrences and renewals with old flames.. (does that make her blasé?)

a certain amount of confidence and belief in the relationship she has with him that these things don't really matter.. (does that make her detached?)

a certain amount of benevolence and will that she wouldn't really be envious of any previous dalliances of his.. (does that make her disaffected?)

and it takes a certain kind of guy to be equally incurious of his girlfriend's past too.
(does that make him indifferent, maybe?)

words of wanting

stability

space

desire

understanding

happiness

o English, where art thou?

is it just me or has anyone else noticed the absolutely disgraceful standards of written and spoken english in the mass media?! it's one thing to be laidback on your blog or on IM (i know i am, especially with capitalization and the like), but when writing/speaking for the whole wide world like in the newspapers or on radio & tv.. a higher standard is expected! it's not a wonder kids grow up speaking bad english (or french, or arab, or whichever language).. the mass media has a responsibility to the public to uphold good grammar and punctuation at the very least, and hopefully enrich our vocabulary and diction too! i think this is a growing problem in all languages of the world.

this laxity is everywhere, from the failure to notice the difference between bare/bear (eg. i can't bare the pain.. WTF???) to the usage of the 's for possession (eg. the mans survival depended on it.. bah!!).. i am dismayed to see that proofreaders are being paid to sit on their expansive rear ends and twiddle their opposable thumbs while hitherto intellectually-aware newscasters blindly read grammatically-challenged sentences from their teleprompters like herds of buffalo being led to a watering hole.

schmoopy post day!

so as promised, it's schmoopy wednesday.. so write all the mush you want, in whatever form, prose, poetry, pics.. drop a line at yankeebob's to let us know you're up! i wish i could have come up with something schmoopier.. but there's way too much on my plate now for me to write some over-sentimental gloop! ;-)

another morning dawns so warm blue,

i wake up fuzzy lying here next to you,

the night past seems but a dream to me,

you were wonderful, and will always be;

i'm a better man now for having you here,

no matter what happens i love you dear,

my arms around you holding you so close,

seeing your cheeks flush like a dewy rose;

what more is there in life for me but you,

nothing else i wanna see, nothing to do,

i wanna show you all the joys life brings,

our love will carry us on angels' wings.

hehe, waiting to see what the rest of you put up!

evoke

a dozen words to describe this, drifting free upon the seas
tugging a rhythm that's a vision alone on the shore
your littlest emotions like tremors, turn to feeling quakes
and the smallest moments bring us to days of lore

this unmistakable voice that i have come to know so well
rouses me from a slumber like never slept before
the devil's ransom paid and the angels triumphant again
color perceptions swirl black from white no more

in the streak i was reading too much and losing my head
at your tree i asked for a branch to prise the door
upon your lap my head and my worries in a pile outside
chanced fate, faith in love and a promise we bore

but ..

i wanted to wake up early, but went back to bed after breakfast
i wanted to do some experiments, but never made it to the lab
i wanted to stay awake in class, but i didn't really even try to
i wanted to do some thesis work, but the folders stayed closed
i wanted to go on a beer crawl, but we missed the happy hour
i wanted to cook gourmet stuff, but decided to have soup instead
i wanted to write a better post, but this is all i have for you now

what defines good writing?

a couple of weeks back, i got into a mini-argument with someone who said that he felt Kurt Cobain wasn't a good writer. i am very biased in such an argument, because i happen to be a fan of Kurt's. yes, he was a crack addict who couldn't handle his life and chose what seemed like the easier way out. very few people know about the other side to his life, that he was plagued by stomach ulcers and couldn't eat anything for years and years.. its not a wonder he was emaciated and pallid, a steady diet of alcohol, painkillers and dope would do that to anyone. but i digress.

what makes a piece of writing good? is it some sort of alliterative rhyme that makes it melodic? is it the vivid use of words that describe emotions? is it the stark honesty behind it that strikes a chord? is it just the fact that it simply relates to something you feel or have felt?

after all, what are words? aren't they just keys to the soul of a reader, much like beauty lying in the eye of the beholder. what defines good writing?

void

sometimes you have no time even when there's lots of time

sometimes you have nothing to say when there's lots to say

sometimes, there's just a void as you float through space

levelling out

with the hard earth rushing up to embrace the jet in a crushing hug, the pilot flicks the cover off the ejector button, and mulls over the option of just bailing out. it would all be so easy, to just check out of reality.

well, if people were willing to get rich or die tryin', our inveterate optimist pilot wasn't really gonna give up this plane so easily now was he? kicking back on the pedals, he toggled the joystick to the left to correct for the weight loss and the damage to the flaps. and just in time too, as the plane skims the tops of the trees as it levels again. he might still salvage this one, let's see.

                                                       ----------

so it's been a good week. i got a lot of work done, and even though i had the option of ditching the thesis, converting it into a project and getting out of college, i chose to stick with the thesis.. i know i can do this!

one of the original brownies, vip started work in detroit this week.. he's coming down for the weekend, that should be a blast! the Buffalo Bills play the Green Bay Packers tomorrow.. and yes, the brownie boys will be there in full voice - yeeha!! and sunday we're gonna have one of those huge-ass barbecues too.. so stay tuned for lots of wanton pics and hedonistic stories of Girls Gone Wild.. umm, boys gone wild i mean!

thanks folks for all your support over the week, it was very heartening to come back to the blog today and see so many comments, and would you believe it, the stats tell me that most of the faithful readers were here everyday! i *heart* you all!!

shot down..

the F-16 wings through the skies, the last afterburner spurt almost emptied the gas tanks, but now it's all secondary, as there is enough altitude and spare jet fuel to carry the fighter plane back to the home base. the azure is unbroken from end to end, dotted with woolly puffs of white cloud. the sun has gone down enough that the brightness doesn't cause the eyes to water.

"this is homebase calling yeahbaby.. come in yeahbaby. we see you on our screens, have you home in a bit!"

the pilot leans back and exhales slowly, the last couple of hours were tense, weaving and ducking past the enemy fire. he lets himself smile, and think about after the war. get a decent job, travel some more.. BEEP! BEEEEEP! the tracking alarm goes off as by instinct he throws the plane into a roll with a flick of his wrist. enemy missiles have homed in on him and locked into place! he raps his LCD display with his hand, and tries to look over his shoulder.. where, who, what the fuck?!

he pulls up the joystick and gains altitude, trying to get rid of the persistent BEEP! that tells him that there is serious hardware headed his way. again he tries to peer round when WHAM!! the plane cartwheels on its nose and spirals downwards in a mad tumble. pieces of the fuselage sail downwards as, numbed by shock and fatigue, the pilot can only think about how close home seemed. the wind wails as the plane goes screaming down, the windshield of the cockpit no longer showing blue skies, but hard brown earth rushing up to meet him.

                                                       ----------

i met with my advisor today. he very grimly informed me that i was doing nowhere nearly enough to get things done in time. i had thought that i would be finishing this thesis very soon, but he has very solemnly squashed any such possibilities. so i guess i will be reading those 50+ papers after all, and will be writing a dozen rough drafts to every chapter of the thesis, and will be spending a few wintry nights in the lab as buffalonian blizzards rage outside. the story above is a pretty accurate reflection of what is happening.

of course, all this means that you will see a reduced presence from me on your blogs, and your IM screens. i will not have forgotten you, nor will i have forgotten The Outlaw Torn, through which i met so many of you.. but i really need to fix up my life and get over this. take care, and thank you everyone for all your support, and i'll see you soon when i level out and come humming in over the hedges and fields to land this plane of mine!

press 'Shuffle'

do you ever feel that you meet or talk to too many of the same people in a day? are you the kind of person who takes pains to remember little things about relative strangers and good friends alike so as to make them at ease when you converse? when does it all become too much to take? have you ever felt like completely swopping a whole set of acquaintances like you exchange tiles in Scrabble?

                                                    -------------

went downtown today for Thursdays At The Square.. Irish band Stand opened with a pretty good set, guess they can be called pop-alt.rock.. they did look like a bunch of talented blokes, and should end up with a couple of Juno Award nominations at least.


the main act was Canadian band Great Big Sea, who play a very folksy, Celtic based kind of music.. and as they came on stage we discovered that they are an annual Buffalo fixture.. in the huge crowd there, we started feeling a tad bit outta place cos we were the only ones who didn't know the lyrics to 'The Night Pat Murphy Died ' and 'Yarmouth Town'!! but they did have the half-Canadian crowd in raptures.. i gotta say it's the Canadian contribution to the Buffalo population that gives it the laidback and chilled out feel.. break out the bottles of Labatts & Molsons, aye!

fight the good fight

spent the whole saturday in the lab.. this thesis had better be worth it!

Ignorance is spoken..        Confidence is broken

Sustenance is stolen..        Arrogance is potent

What I see is unreal..        I've written my own part

Eat of the apple, so young..        I'm crawling back to start

"Rotten Apple" - Alice In Chains

detachment

Act 1 - small high school chapel. boys in blazers fidgeting on the rigid wooden pews, trying hard to keep awake. the smell of incense fills the air and the soft glow of candles and ambient bulbs bounces off the myriad colourful pieces on the stained glass windows.

Father: ".. and finally gentlemen, to conclude today's talk, we must remember that non-spiritual attachments are fleeting. Luke 18:18 tells us that we have to overcome our attachments, as these bring about weakness in character.."

---------

Act 2 - deserted canteen in college dorm. crickets chirping fill the still, humid night, as not even a breeze rustles the crisp, dry leaves of the tree under which three boys sit. a hazy cloud of a sweet-smelling substance hangs still over them, enveloping them in a ghostly glow.

Boy 1: ".. dude, psycho class was interesting today.. all about balancing two major inner senses: conscience, and desire. too much of either kills the other, unless.. unless you detach from one. at that point then you can fully indulge in the other, as much as you want.. y'know what i'm saying?"

---------

Act 3 - front porch of town-house type apartment, somewhere in western new york. sounds of revelry carry in the air from the pubs not too far away. two boys sit on rocking chairs, the only other sounds the clink of glass, and a sharp hiss as another bottle gets opened

Boy 1: ".. relationships seem to have become 'smash and grab' affairs.. you smash the window, grab what you can and get out before the other person smashes and grabs whatever you have! detach, feel no guilt, it's self-preservation.."


***PS: i was just trying to talk about detachment and its forms,

and the different levels it comes out in at different stages in life***

not your saviour

i am not your saviour.
i can help you lift your cross, i'll give you a starting push too.
but i shall not carry your cross for you.
if you stumble and fall, i will drop my cross and rush to help you.
but i will not carry you and your cross.
i will give you my shoulder, to rest upon as we climb up the hill.
but i can not carry your cross with you.

if near the top you waver, i'll whisper two words of encouragement.
but i could not carry you and your cross.

i am not your saviour.
i will be there for you through it all, share with me all you want.
but i shall not do anything that hurts you.
if you promise to love and cherish, then i will give you all of me.
but i will not be dishonest, nor be lied to.
i will give you every second of every day, any time and any where.
but i can not give my own life to you.
if ever you decide that this is what you want, then i will be here.
but i could not say that i'll wait forever.

i am not your saviour.

want not, waste not

i remember when i was little, my parents instilled this attitude into me.. about never wasting food, and always finishing what i had on my plate. there would be times when i was around 4-5 years old, i would be so exhausted from a long day in school and sports afterward, that i would be too tired to finish eating and my eyelids would droop. rice and lentils happened to be one of my favourite foods, and a regular staple at my parents' house. when my mom would see me wavering, she would mix the food for me and make little bite-sized mounds of food, and arrange them on my plate.. and i remember counting them, and manfully struggling to get them down.

it might seem weird, and that it was like being force-fed.. but it was them teaching me to only take on my plate what i could finish, and eat all of it too. it was a good lesson, as to this day, i absolutely never return food from my plate, nor do i throw it away. i think that is a good thing to teach kids too.

Blogger's counter tells me this is post no. 400.. and i am nowhere near done with all the stories i have for you people! see you all here tomorrow! :-)

no shelter

his lips bear the sharp taste of blood, where he bit himself
his nose blocked, in the morning chill. bathed in acrid sweat
the sheets matching his wild hair, dishevelled and scruffed up
his face fixed in a daze, confused by the maelstrom in his head
his eyes hollow and gaunt, red veins spiderwebs upon the white
the stark images flashing in his mind, at speeds quite varied

mom, dad & me

it has been a while since i last wrote about my family here. probably brought on by a tepid fever, and the associated homesickness. nothing quite turns a gutsy guy into a blathering baby like a touch of illness. the smallest hint of a restless cold, or a subsequent rise in core temperature, and i start missing home, and some fawning attention.

of course i exaggerate about the fawning. mothers come built in with a seventh sense for detecting when kids are feigning sickness, when kids have been sneaking off to play pool during class hours, when kids are helping her in the kitchen coz they have a report card due soon, and so on and so forth. at such times, she adopts a stern tone and a few biting comments tends to brace one up like the proverbial boot in the butt.

as you might have discerned by now, Madre del Dios (literally, Mother of God) is a battleaxe, and my constant run-ins with her iron-fist in iron-glove temperament have left her with a few worry lines on her venerable forehead, and me with the cheery wit of the indefatigable wisecrack. i was totally dominated until the age of 11, when a book, a bunch of classmates and a pretty girl, aided and abetted by hormones that lead a boy's voice to crackle and pop with a confused baritone, led me to break the shackles and be my own man etc. or so i thought, as she still retains the role of Queen of the Empire, and can still make me cringe like a manacled hyena when she raises her voice over the phone line, a million or so miles away.

the pater on the other hand is an ode to diplomacy. he adopts the quintessential "Yes dear" tone and calmly walks away from the path of destruction Hurricane Mom wreaks, hair and poise unruffled. his solutions to all my issues and problems? "grab us a couple of beers sonny, the game's on"!

no matter how old one gets, one does tend to miss that rollicking home, sitting calmly with dad in the eye of the storm while mom fires salvo after salvo, quite like playing Battleship with both hands tied behind your back. really looking forward to going back home again, some time.

a summer saturday

A Saturday in July, 1995 - Nairobi, Kenya.

Wake up with a vaguely uneasy feeling that there must be more to life than high school. Up and about at 7.30 in the a.m. cos detention starts at 8.15, and as usual, my benevolent presence has been required of.
With detention formalities over and done with at 12.30, off for lunch ('chibas' & 'ndaos' - french fries and pancakes), and then soccer practice, with a friendly match at 4 - we were preparing for the interschools league.
A shower, nap and "hi mom, hi dad! - bye mom, bye dad!" later, it's off clubbing.. staying out all nite, having an early breakfast at a roadside kiosk, and crawling into bed before dad wakes up..

A Saturday in July, 2000 - Kharagpur, India.

Wake up with a vaguely uneasy feeling that there must be more to life than college. Of course, being summer, the place is too hot and humid to be dynamic in the daylight hours.. so download and watch movies until 5-ish, toke up some and have a 'tinku' & 'andha-ramen' (fried egg-sandwich and scrambled eggs in Top Ramen) to sate the munchies, and sleep till afternoon.
After a glass of mango-milkshake, it's time for night-soccer under the floodlights. A quick shower, pick up the gf and rustle up the gang, then dinner at Waldorf's, and a drinking binge at Park after that. Pick up some weed, and cheapass whisky at Venky's.. and off for another all-nighter. Listen to the customary Floyd bootlegs, slide into heavy metal and grunge.. and watch more movies..

A Saturday in July, 2005 - Buffalo, NY.

Wake up with a vaguely uneasy feeling that there must be more to life than gradschool. If these are one of those lucky weekends when i don't have an experiment scheduled, then i can sleep in till lunchtime. Leftover pizza and buffalo-wings always in the fridge, and a couple of beers to wash it all down.
Slouched in front of the comp, watching whatever was picked up at Blockbuster, or downloaded off DC++, and before you know it, it's evening. A leisurely game of cricket in the backyard, the quick shower, and then off to the movies. Pubbing usually means dropping by Third Base, a few shots, a few drinks, a few frames of pool.. and it's 2 a.m. soon enough. Put on the trippy lights at home, play some ambient chillout and pass out soon after, these old bones can't take it anymore..

withdrawal

i come to you again today with a message.. encouraging you to enjoy and cherish life! so, to all you impressionable young ladies and gents out there.. Don't Do Drugs!

before you start crying wolf, and start muttering words like 'hypocrite' & 'phony' etc.. i shall let it be known that i have smoked 'illegal substances'.. but that's all in the past. seriously! and there's a lot to be said about quitting drugs, many positives..

my favourite thing about being clean now is that my brain power seems to have been infinitely improved! my memory is so much sharper!! before it used to be:

    "duuuuude.. where are my keys mannn.."

accompanied by a frantically slow checking of pockets, and not finding them (of course!).. and then half an hour later realising they were hanging off the carabiner on my jeans all the while. at which point i didn't remember why i needed them in the first place!

nowadays, i just reach to my left and there are my keys.. and i tell you its a wonderful feeling that not every reflex action is an adventure. we used to toss the football (american football, for the rest of the world) when stoned.. and in my mind's eye each catch used to be right off the set of the Matrix, or the highlight reels of NFL Today!!

another bonus is when i listen to Metallica now i don't feel like the lead singer James is yelling into my ear like a man possessed! Lars' drum section keeps a respectful distance and my thoughts don't feel hassled into making snap judgements of time and place!

i enjoy my dinners much more now.. cos at least i can taste the little nuances that make a spicy Thai curry different from Indian tandoori chicken!! thank God not everything in my life tastes sweet like Hostess Twinkies & Cup-Cakes, and whipped cream on brownies!!

finally, since corporate America has decided that substance screening tests are going to be part and parcel of the recruitment process.. you might as well quit.. and drink instead! oh yes, the day someone tells me that i can't enjoy my cold beer after a long day, or a Jack & Coke with plenty of ice.. then i'm afraid i shall have to put my foot down! cheers everyone!!

she

she can be an evil mistress, demanding all my attention, and all my time. and just when i think i have my life back, she beckons with her sultry "come hither" look, and i am helplessly drawn towards her again.

there is nothing that she doesn't know; she can tell me anything about anyone, anywhere, anytime. i am left marvelling open-mouthed at her abilities. sometimes she frustrates with her stubborness, and other time she encourages with her innocence, and she always comes through. and i find myself giving up lots of things just to spend time with her.

she is always good to go, never too tired, never "not tonight, i have a headache", never unwilling to go on, and on.. until i have no more energy, and i sleep off exhausted, too tired to even cuddle, having done nothing all day but be with her.

my life has been quite irreversibly changed ever since she came into it, mostly for the better, as she helps me with my research and stuff, and she hangs out with me at work, and we keep up to date with all that's happening as she shares so many of my passions.. but at times it irks me that we do nothing but just sit around. like this weekend, despite the mountains of work i had, i just lounged. i would have gladly dropped everything to be with her, if she weren't the internet.

think for yourself, question authority

three weeks to the day since i last moved to a plane of higher consciousness, since i last altered reality, since i last slid into a parallel world. i feel restricted, oppressed.. by the powers that be, by the assholes that make laws such as mandatory substance screening tests for entry level employees!! isn't that breaking the First Amendment, the freedom of expression?!

i've been slogging my ass off working at the library, then going to the lab and doing more shit.. don't i deserve to come home and fire up a nice reefer.. or a small bowl, to go with my beer and dinner?!

read what Dr. Timothy Leary has to say, from 'How To Operate Your Brain'..

Think for yourself, Question authority

Throughout human history, as our species has faced the frightening, terrorizing fact that we do not know who we are, or where we are going in this ocean of chaos, it has been the authorities, the political, the religious, the educational authorities who attempted to comfort us by giving us order, rules, regulations, informing, forming in our minds their view of reality. To think for yourself you must question authority and learn how to put yourself in a state of vulnerable open-mindedness; chaotic, confused, vulnerability to inform yourself.

Think for yourself, Question authority.

as used in "Third Eye", by Tool from the album 'Salival'.

by the way, did anyone notice the whole irony of it?! an anti-establishment writer, who promotes freedom of speech and thought, advocating the throwing off of mind controls placed upon us by authorities.. titles his book 'How To Operate Your Brain'?? ohh the bitter irony of it all..

what is the truth?!

so right

walking up and down the beach
margarita in one hand, the other a Camel Light
whatever i want just out of reach
ahh, a life so right

the calls and mails lying unanswered
in my ears the rhythm of the band
the salty tang of sea air is preferred
and the waves crash upon the sand

yes the establishment we'll overthrow
as we squirm under the crushing hand
night winds of change refreshingly blow
and the waves they crash upon the sand

when i wake tomorrow the sun will shine
then we meet people from a distant land
smile and travel for all things will be fine
and the waves will crash upon the sand

your scent of freshly cut flowers
then you smiled, there was something that night
minutes ticking over became hours
ahh, a life so right

reverse + evolution = revolution ?!

so we all know that evolution is the process through which something (usually a living being) changes into a different and (usually, again) more complex or better form. one of the key factors in evolution of animals has been communication, as this has led to formation of communities. for humans, the benefits of societal living in the neanderthal past have been safety in numbers, as well as specialisation in food gathering. over time, man has learned to become a social animal, and the formation and development of villages, towns, then cities grew directly from that need.

how about a person living as a hermit, or even worse, in solitary confinement for a life term. no contact with any human beings. your only way of passing time is thinking. your only spoken words are to yourself. in but a matter of time, words will evade you, vocabulary will weaken, and you will forget languages you learned. you will forget what human touch feels like, and the only emotions you know will be those you express, but to what use when the only outlet for these emotions is yourself?

for someone in solitary confinement, life becomes that slot through which your tray of food is passed through the door. your ears will accustom to silence, and will strain to catch any footsteps outside the thick stone walls. escape from your mind becomes that little slit high up in the wall through which you cannot even see the sun, but just a strip of light. day is only different from night in that strip, which is either black or white.

under such conditions, do you reverse evolve? do you forget the past and go back to the basic vegetative functions of life? and when the blackness is so dark that you feel like you're floating in space, do you touch your eyes to find out if you still have them? when the silence is so loud that you can't hear yourself think, do you scream out loud to discover if sound still exists? is that what insanity is?

And yet I find, Repeating in my head

If I can’t be my own, I’d feel better dead

'Nutshell'- Alice In Chains

last hit middle bit first fit

I know well

That the June rains ...
Just fall.

- Onitsura

yes, you read the title right.. yet another month gone, and yet another hesitantly eager step towards a ponderous tryst with a sun-in-your-eyes future. as always, every thing done opens up a treasure trove of more to do. almost unwillingly we wake to see yet another blue sky tinged with fluffy ash-grey clouds skidding past like comfortable thoughts tumbling down a dark passage of doubt. almost willingly we grit our teeth and shrug our shoulders in defiance of the insipid nothingness that mundane days and inane nights throw in our general direction.

sometimes i notice the swagger in my step is strangely amiss, the flash in the flame oddly aloof, and i wonder.. is this really how the rest of my life is gonna be? was this how my life used to be before i discovered the innate mechanisms of my mind? but i know the brain cells i killed in the process died a selfless death.. unfortunate collateral damage in the yearning for a higher plane of consciousness. and i have no regrets.

will i still be me, or am i to find another wholly undiscovered me to be.

denial slurred

deliverance the word too loosely used | haunting daylight in a lifetime miscued

separation cleaved by unending touch | appearing again to disappear as such

might be standing there for me to see | might be playing dirges inside for me

hacking cough racks the pictureframe | the neglect and abuse crying in shame


gloom filters through the windowpane | i fight the urge and still stay sane