Dreaming of bones in flesh that I haven't had a chance to know yet. I feel like shouting at the arrangement of life, the plan that decided we're all going to be cogs and have no balls and just quietly be. Lie still in our graves.
The futility of wanting and not wanting makes me nauseous. Realising that I'm going to be old and feel the same anger in the base of my stomach makes me feel impotent and weak. With rage and regret laying in the loose folds of my papery skin. I think not giving in to one base instinct after the other is where we're fucking up.

You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not like.
It is a mask I try on.
I migrate towards it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have sewn it
over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

Universe,
I'm getting more confused with time. I am hoping that existential crises will not become a regular feature of afternoons at work (hey, did I mention I'm back at work!) and that the future will stop looking all blank and white and VAGUE.
I had this dream where I had a child of no gender. It had a gender I'm sure but it's identity was that it was 'my child.' And it wasn't annoying or weird and didn't paw my stuff. It was a little funny looking, sure, admittedly, but it was more like a sidekick who laughed at all my witticisms and rode with me and we kicked ass together.
I feel very very tired by the end of the day, like I've completely run out of battery. One of these mornings my parents will wake up and find me on the couch, hoping someone would carry me to bed.
And I want a life partner this week. I want to go camping with someone and I want my bed made every night for me and I want to steal someone's shirts and perfumes/colognes because I'm bored of all my stuff. And I want someone to roll me joints and simultaneously not be an asshole about how when I do it it's just clumsy. I want perfectly rolled joints lying all over my house!
I want hot cinnamon buns for breakfast and I want my newspapers laid out in the order I like to read them. (Hindustan Times, ET, Indian Express, Express Newsline (the IE supplement) and lastly HT City (the HT supplement))
I want to stop being afraid of driving! I'm not afraid. Just not fond of it, because I'm super paranoid I'll kill someone or bump into a car or worse, hurt an animal. But none of this translates into me being a super cautious driver, no, when I drive I have blind spots all over. Like the side lane turning into the main road? I can't see you if you're waiting to turn into where I already am!
I want to be naturally neat, dude. You neat fuckers have no idea how hard it is for us. Every day stuff just sort of piles up around you. And you have to make a conscious effort eventually to fix things. And even then you can't make it all perfect, it just seems less messy than before and that is something I have learned to settle for.
And I want to say 'we'll be in real barney then' and have people realise how cool and lame I am and also understand what I am saying.
And I want to know what I want to do with my life. That, most of all. I don't want to just go ahead and do something for the heck of it. It's like I have such specific concepts of what I think my life will be like, or what I want it to be like. I don't even begin to factor in how deluded I am. What if (touch-wood!) I get handicapped or paralysed or something? There are so many options out there that I can't even begin to foresee. So how can I make decisions about what I should do when I have no idea? How many experiences am I losing out on without even being aware of it?
La la la la la la la la la la! :D

MIHTFBID continued

: O

Since the election results came out I noticed something horribly alarming. My year old spoiled fatass of a cat, Bambi, has an uncanny resemblance to the new MP from northwest Delhi, Krishna Tirath.





KT's photo isn't too representative of her. It's a bit of a beauty shot for her, hides her gaping forehead. But yeah dudes! LOOK AT IT. I'm expecting a call from Congress headquarters any minute now.

Murphy <3 Internet

The internet is my friend.



























I infinitely prefer it to you assholes.

Sometimes Facebook really pisses me off

by the lovely Kate Beaton

Blogger insists on publishing these last two posts as 9th and 10th May, despite correct settings. It doesn't matter but it's annoying me. Kind of like everything else.
Whatevs.

M

Murphy's top five most hated ways of getting eve-teased

1. The lascivious, slow, wet, deliberate biting down on the lower lip while looking at Murphy's tits.
2. The kissing noise
3. The accidentally on purpose bumping into Murphy
4. Following Murphy around. Ugh.
5. Hostile eye contact followed by any of 1 through 4

Cheers!

How I hate the night

My exams are four days away. My indifference hasn't budged one bit. My days are vacuously empty, huge yawning pits of nothingness. I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that I have a terrible case of insomnia and a worse case of the consequent tireds. I've been spending my nights watching terrible movies, comforting myself with the thought that once I eventually get back to work this lifestyle of Jennifer Aniston, dreamy vampire boyfriends and foot-high fonts will automatically become something to yearn for. Nevertheless, I'm going to agree with Marvin's magnum opus 'How I hate the night.'

Now the world has gone to bed
Darkness won't engulf my head
I can see by infra-red
How I hate the night

Now I lay me down to sleep
Try to count electric sheep
Sweet dream wishes you can keep
How I hate the night


Lethargic kisses,
Murphy

My new friends are all going to have the nice, clean scent of an honest person. And their skin will be so soft you're going to want to touch it all day.

Murphy's is the city of regrets

I'm beginning a new year! I resolve to be a little easier, a little more open, a little looser around the edges, to lack definition. I'm going to ignore all the blood on the floor, I'm not going to burn in my skin, I'm going to continue losing touch.
I'm going to stop making history every time the wrong people come around.