Friday, December 31

And I didn't get it.
Mail from my best friend:
hallo. : D im happy for no reason. no reason happiness. get it? get it? eh? *nudge* Life is fine. fine as wine. fine as ulyssa, banuvie. and since youre studying eco, AM is all yours.

We used to fight over the classical economist Alfred Marshall (who btw died long time back realising the stupidity of his work and how the great depression was God's way of saying "IN YOUR STUPID FACE MARSHALL").
If I ever ran into you I'd cut off both your wings.
New Year's eve.
Guard jealously.

Monday, December 27

I have signed my name already twenty times. I, and again I, and again I. Clear, firm and unequivocal, there it stands, my name. Clear-cut and unequivocal am I too. Yet a vast inheritance of experience is packed in me. I have lived thousands of years. I am like a worm that has eaten its way through the wood of a very old oak beam. But now I am compact; now I am gathered together this fine morning.
Here is the shop where they sell stockings. And I could believe that beauty is once more set flowing. Its whisper comes down these aisles, through these laces, breathing among baskets of coloured ribbons. There are then warm hollows grooved in the heart of the uproar; alcoves of silence where we can shelter under the wing of beauty from truth which I desire. Pain, is suspended as a girl silently slides open a drawer. And then, she speaks; her voice wakes me. I shoot to the bottom among the weeds and see envy, jealousy, hatred and spite scuttle like crabs over the sand as she speaks. These are our companions. I will pay my bill and take my parcel.

The reason I *love* JP

JP::it is says:
Good lord. Pppl are attempting to befriend me on orkut

Sunday, December 26

Uh .. read in chronological order, no ?


I see the beetle. It is black, I see; it is green, I see; I am tied down with single words. But you wander off; you slip away; you rise up higher, with words and words in phrases.


But when we sit together, close we melt into each other with phrases. We are edged with mist. We make an unsubstantial territory.


I love and I hate. I desire one thing only. My eyes are hard. J’s eyes break into a thousand lights. R’s are like those pale flowers to which moths come in the evening. Yours grow full and brim and never break. But I am already set on my pursuit. I see insects in the grass. Though my mother still knits white socks for me and hems pinafores and I am a child, I love and I hate.


I saw you go. As you passed the door of the tool-house I heard you cry ‘ I am unhappy.’ I put down my knife. I was making boats out of firewood with N. and my hair is untidy because when Mrs. C told me to brush it there was a fly in a web, and I asked, ‘Shall I free the fly? Shall I let the fly be eaten?’ So I am late always. My hair is unbrushed and these chips of wood stick in it. When I heard you cry I followed you, and saw you put down your handkerchief, screwed up with its rage, with its hate, knotted in it. But soon that will cease. Our bodies are close now. You hear me breathe. You see the beetle too carrying off a leaf on its back. It runs this way, then that way, so that even your desire while you watch the beetle, to possess one single thing (it is L now) must waver, like the light in and out of the beech leaves; and then words, moving darkly, in the depths of your mind will break up this knot of hardness, screwed in your pocket-handkerchief.


I saw her kiss him. I looked between the leaves and saw her. She danced in flecked with diamonds light as dust. And I am squat, B, I am short. I have eyes that look close to the ground and see insects in the grass. The yellow warmth in my side turned to stone when I saw J kiss L.


S has passed us. She has passed the tool-house door with her handkerchief screwed into a ball. She was not crying, but her eyes, which are so beautiful, were narrow as cats’ eyes before they spring. I shall follow her, N. I shall go gently behind her, to be at hand, with my curiosity, to comfort her when she bursts out in a rage and thinks, '‘ I am alone.’
Now she walks across the field with a swing, nonchalantly, to deceive us. Then she comes to the dip; she thinks she is unseen; she begins to run with her fists clenched in front of her. Her nails meet in the ball of her pocket-handkerchief. She is making for the beech woods out of the light. She spreads her arms as she comes to them and takes to the shade like a swimmer. But she is blind after the light and trips and flings herself down on the roots under the trees, where the light seems to pant in and out, in and out. The branches heave up and down. There is agitation and trouble here. There is gloom. The light is fitful. There is anguish here. The roots make a skeleton on the ground, with dead leaves heaped in the angles. S has spread her anguish out. Her pocket-handkerchief is laid on the roots of the beech trees and she sobs, sitting crumpled where she has fallen.


Through the chink in the hedge I saw her kiss him. I raised my head from my flower-pot and looked through a chink in the hedge. I saw her kiss him. I saw them, J and L, kissing. Now I will wrap my agony inside my pocket-handkerchief. It shall be screwed tight into a ball. I will go to the beech wood alone, before lessons. I will not sit at a table, doing sums. I will not sit next J and next L. I will take my anguish and lay it upon the roots under the beech trees. I will examine it and take it between my fingers. They will not find me.


I was running after breakfast. I saw leaves moving in a hole in the hedge. I thought ‘That is a bird on its nest.’ I parted them and looked; but there was no bird on a nest. The leaves went on moving. I was frightened. I ran past S, past R, and N and B in the tool-house talking. I cried as I ran, faster and faster. What moved the leaves? What moves my heart, my legs? And I dashed in here, seeing you green as a bush, like a branch, very still, L, with your eyes fixed. ‘Is he dead?’ I thought, and kissed you, with my heart jumping under my pink frock like the leaves, which go on moving, though there is nothing to move them. Now I smell geraniums; I smell earth mould. I dance. I ripple. I am thrown over you like a net of light. I lie quivering flung over you.

Friday, December 24

I see a ring hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.
I see a slab of pale yellow spreading away until it meets a purple stripe.
I see a globe hanging down in a drop against the enormous flanks of some hill.
Islands of light are swimming on the grass. They have fallen through the trees.
A shadow falls on the path like an elbow bent.
The stalks are covered with harsh short hairs and drops of water have stuck to them.
The grey shelled snail draws across the path and flattens the blades behind him.
And burning lights from the window-panes flash in and out on the grasses.
Stones are cold to my feet. I feel each one, round or pointed, seperately.
The back of my hand burns but the palm is clammy and damp with dew.
The beast stamps; the elephant with its foot chained; the great brute on the beach stamps.
The walls are cracked with gold cracks and there are blue, finger shaped shadows of leaves beneath the windows.
I am green as a yew tree in the shade of the hedge. My hair is made of leaves. I am rooted to the middle of the earth. My body is a stalk. I press the stalk. A drop oozes from the hole at the mouth and slowly, thickly grows larger and larger. Now something pink passes the eyehole. Now an eye-beam is slid through the chink. Its beam strikes me. I am a boy in a grey flannel suit. She has found me. I am struck on the nape of my neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered.

It makes a sound like thunder
it makes me feel like rain.
This waiting business is getting to me.

Let there be no flowers

Personal vendetta against people who buy other people flowers. Why would anyone spend good money on what looked really nice in a gamla and is now deader than a dead doorknob and is wrapped in cellophane?
The next person who gets me flowers is going to get whacked repeatedly on his head with his own bits of plastic and decaying flora. *growls*
People should spend money on:
Cigars : )
Mint chocolate chip ice cream
Viennese coffee ice cream

Thursday, December 23

Happy christmas all.

It's early but I want to do this now.

Jingle bells
Batman smells
Robin laid an egg
Broken wheel
Santa Claus is dead.

Barbie Doll
Barbie Doll
Tried to save his life
But G. I. Joe
With a 44
Stabbed her with a knife.

Happy christmas mofos.

Wednesday, December 22


Don't know what she's trying to recreate. It gets to me. This way there is little that can survive. The catch is that it comes back. Everytime. And it leaves her dazed and happy and breathless. But these little highs are few in between. They never last. The source sways. There is no place like numbers. The sun's rays are digital according to Nim.
I saw the lines today, few hours back. More like bumpy rolls. People never are enough. The irony is staggering. Honestly I want that back. High stress lifestyle and all. There's a buzz in my throat again. Fresh earlobe.
Crave your brand of familiarity.
Do you want to hear that dream?
"I'm getting tired of this. I vote the young lady tells us a story," the March Hare interrupted, yawning.
We never played out the old Priya tradition. The last 4 batches didn't. Each gurgle brings more hope. Too much glibness there. As The Beatles would put it la la la la life goes on.
Well they did also say getting better all the time ( it couldn't get any worse).
Made Muggins brilliantly cool, warm new bed.
Great day.

Tuesday, December 21

Go there.
Q1. In the rainy season, driver should drive slow because:
a)Children like to run and enjoy in rain.
b)Roads are slippery.
c)If driver drives fast, glass may break due to rain drops.
d)Pedestrians carry umbrellas that obstruct vision.

Q2. If you are at a railway crossing, with lights flashing, you should:
a)Get down and investigate.
b)Sound horn to let train know.
c)Wait for train to pass.
d)Block path of train with barrier so that you can pass.

This is on the learner's permit paper. I btw have an actual legit can drive trucks (or two wheelers, I forget which) also license. And I LOVE the picture on it. I look evil.


Damn it. Want to whine to Listo. Never find him online. Have no money to call him. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

V Woolf

Hopeful plans. Very very broke. When you walk into my room I can smell the wind in your hair and the cold on your lips. Muggins has put on weight. Hurrah.
Had a wonderful weekend. Put me in such a good mood. Was very cheerful this morning but then in micro class that scary ass worry made the most of the situation and seeing my bored and disinterested mind immediately jumped in. But now I’m feeling a lot more confident about it. Don’t see how it could have happened. Have to literally wait and watch. Though the very idea is frightening beyond words.
I met M and V. Yay : )
And I got The Waves by Virginia Woolf. I tried to tell JP what reading something by her is like for me. Reading a book by her, just the first page makes me feel like I’ve entered familiar, hospitable territory where there are fences and high hills and blue green moors and just one kind of weather.

Monday, December 20

Zort spelled (spelt?) backwards is Troz.

Saw Zero. Got Zero shirt. Hallelujah.

Saturday, December 18

Today, if any day ever was, was a Bittersweet Symphony type of day. It just rang through the air, I had the song playing over and over in my head and that just puts you in a different place altogether. Quite pleasant.
Will be watching slutty dance competition with Chetan tomorrow. Quite looking forward to it. Haven't read anything decent in a very long time. Well have, but the time is usually wrong for that particular book, if that makes any sense. Usually then I just acknowledge that it is indeed a good book but I probably would have liked it some other time. Grumpy old whore.

Friday, December 17

Great. Now I'm listening to Beck while minutes ago I was in deep thought about how the This Love video (Pantera doofus) makes no sense whatsoever.
Ugh. Exams starting in few weeks while I need atleast a month to catch up. Surprise reaction to something I read brought up something I haven't thought of in a very long time.

Thursday, December 16

Nowadays I'm spending my time by myself. Time spent with B, N, C or A doesn't seem to register. It flows quite easily and you don't even realise you're there in that moment. I long for sunny days, empty parks to smoke packs of Gold Flake and not get addicted.
I'm glad. Things were a little funky but nothing that really got me down. I'm becoming a camel. Or a grungy, old, male vagabond. The kind who hasn't bathed since two Junes ago. Nothing seems to register so the question of mattering doesn't come up. I simply know that I have to lumber on irrespective of what you do around me, how you dance or plead or how you sit by yourself looking restive (where people just have to ask you what you are thinking of).
And my skin is becoming very dry. It feels like old paper. Pudgy old paper?
There is less and less scope for long lasting emotion. You should boil it with oleander leaves. Lots of them. The white flower is beautiful but the plant is one of the most poisonous there are. And if you distill anything with it long enough, in a pot over a flame, it too becomes poisonous. Oleander time lovers kill each other and blame it on the wind.
JP gave:

JP's blog-

Sunday, December 12

Not that I'm getting too Poochie obsessed but she seems to have the gait of a very smug pony. She sort of trots.
Poochie - the cow trapped in a kitten's body.

Saturday, December 11

Cry, if you want to cry
If it helps you see
If it clears your eyes

Hate, if you want to hate
If it keeps you safe
If it makes you brave

Take, if you want a slice
If you want a piece
If it feels alright

Don't come over here
And piss on my gate
Save it just keep it
Off my wave

Keep it off my wave
Keep it off my wave

My wave
See through your
Tripless, falling, limping, crawling,
Biting, fighting, back from dying
Endless ending, comprehending
Nothing of the sin she's sinning

Poochie in the sky with diamonds

Poochie vomitted this morning. Now she's chasing her tail and eating moths.
We were sitting on this step and I was singing to her and stroking her head. We sat like that for half an hour. I thought she had fallen asleep. Then all of a sudden she sees a moth ten feet away and springs at it like she's been waiting for it all her life.
Well atleast she's obviously feeling lots better.
Np: Who is Tyler Durden ? - Dust Bros.

Marla Singer

Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies, lies. Stop lying to me already.
There’s a chair in my head
On which I used to sit
Took a pencil and I wrote
The following on it

Marla – Dust Bros.
The song starts placidly enough. It sorts of plods, methodically. Then there’s a charge, which slowly increases its voltage. It quietly crawls under your skin, makes it crawl ever so little. It plods on again but there are shapes of squares in it now. You can see the lines moving up and down and squares increasing and decreasing in size. Then it unexpectedly explodes into this feline noise which is a finger clawing its own hand and having an orgasm doing it. It stops. Makes blue and white squares. More solid electricity, sparks. It tangibly picks up your threads and starts undoing them. With slow measured movements. It breaks into what sounds like salvation. But then a catch is involved. Softly at first. It increases tempo. In your head salvation seems to be slipping away and it feels like you’re in trouble. Things are going wrong and will go wrong. It presses down from all four sides. And then Marla leaves.
Marla- the cut on the roof of your mouth that you can’t stop tonguing.

Friday, December 10

Poochie's all fluffed up. That's what humans try to do with goosebumps. Goosebumps are a vestigeal action from when we too had our own fur. Wonder if the basketball man looks like Poochie in thecold.
Was quite amazed at the audience in the play. At the most dramatic bits (dealing with marital rape and what not) they'd burst into giggles. Hordes of them. Stupid hicks. Ye ye LSR.

Lindt Cognac \m/

Great things about today:
Lindt's cognac center chocolate (you can tell the cognac, the lots and lots of cognac)
13 Steps by Pantera
Quick tryst with P near empty gazebo
Three hours spent in cafe with Nim & Bunty & discman
Horrible play with Ambira as lead role.
Flannel jacket
Haven't washed hair in longest time ever
Day spent all by myself
Such joy.

Thursday, December 9

Birthday Cow

To Vijay, my favourite cow,
Happy birthday love : )

Tuesday, December 7

MUN fact file

And I met Shantanu at MUN. This is my first love at first sight. And he says he loved me at first sight too. And he told me his secret. He’s a year younger and the sweetest thing ever.

The gruesome one will have to pick a new title for her blog soon. The bitch’s birthday in 2 days. The gruesome one is pleased.

Thursday, December 2

So I shut my eyes to the sound. It wouldn't go away at first, but slowly it died. It ends in chaos. It has a horrible, long lasting (almost) kind of effect that I would like to bare my teeth at. What was meant to be a distraction has become the issue that needs to be addressed. I squeeze colour and let it run over my fingers, down the back of my hand and onto my arm. I hold onto the black and lose the green as blood, sweat & ice tears. Love the Ice Queen. I bite down on the red and shut up the rest.