When you are fated to ill-fate, you blow nose

July 2008,

Blah, a bobo alien who is disguised in the form of a 17 year old girl lives in Bangalore, India (SOUTH india). She meets fathers with poppy eyes and building owners who don't particularly admire her. She loses one phone on an average every year. Generally, she has the flair of doing so when her birthday is near. Blah's room on the fourth floor floods every monsoon, for those who think only villages at ground level face water. She surrounds herself with messy things called humans and tries to inject them all with happy hormone. Eventually they all cry because she forgot to photocopy notes for them. She faces green phlegm which resides in her eye-cavities. It gives her sinusitis. The world thinks she is full of herself, gives a blah about them and that she knows blah but she thinks that she knows blah and that is why she goes blah blah all the time. Apparently she is from NORTH india. She just lost her prized phone and some money. So, she will reduce her flabby body by whining, starving and moping. These characteristics indicate the humanization of blah the bobo. She appears the honest-est when she blows her nose. That is when they finally realise that she is crying.
take care
love,
Blah

A whole list of Phew-hah's

There are a few Phew-hah's that hit me just like that. One of them is the disclaimers that my English teachers make. They make learning English so apologetic, broken and incoherent. Half the things they convey or represent, are from books and mostly they do not agree with them. I just feel like throwing them all out of the window. Leave your fears and knots by the door and then come and talk to me! I am sure no one will sue you for them. The other Phew-hah was everything is nothing and nothing is everything. It is so paradoxical and yet all pervading. From Buddhist monks to existentialists, all say it. And yet, I experience it only when I am punished for not greeting a man and am thrown out of home for swearing and scaring. These things heave upon you mind, blow the phew-z and then I panic. For a while I do. Then it all settles. Then I think of a solution and come back to soul searching. I am growing. I can feel it and I don't like the process, it is bitter somewhere, sleepless mostly, poor frequently with guilt trips to the bank. A lot many times I just regret too much freedom of arrangement and resources. It provokes the mind and words like "What did I do?" just come out for the wrong man. Too much of egalitarian illusions make me careless and when class distinctions are gone, I lose things like respect for elders, humility etc (LMAO). A girl should know her limits and responsibilities. And never should she talk like a rag picker on the road... never drink...never fight...rarely pop eyes at old monks... and she should be seen and not heard...and much more

Davidson and intervals

I was outside in Forum, at coffee shop Kalmane. Dead man coughing was stuck up in my ears. I met that random snooty film course guy who was suddenly all warm and chirpy. Nice. Next not knowing what, I actually went to model art shop. The harley davidson model out there is a beauty. It is a genuine piece of enviable elegance and shine. After twenty minutes of admiring all the other vintage pieces inside, touching an Austin convertible's rear carpet and actually holding the seven kg davidson, I left. I watched movie after long time in a multiplex. It got me into full puppy-love frenzy and little excitement. Words should be honest no matter what. Interval and sight of you was enthralling. I was waiting, for you to hop by. The yellow wallpaper scene of tied woman crawling on husband's body to ascertain victory came. I resolved to write to Macchar. In total austerity I read some Theravada. I managed the "a bit queer around here" play. The gay pride parade was playing in the mind. Harley, my boy, when veena plays and that sentiment arouses, old yellow bricks ring and drum, the afternoon weighs on sleep-deprived eyes like a drug. Goodbye

Panic at the window

People are funny, icky and weird. Some claim to be absurd and some claim to be gurus! I mean, they are hilarious, the shame out of the window. Not like I care two hoots about them. I only care if i want to. I only forgive when i want to. Yet, I like to believe in Bodhisattva. It is difficult master, to acknowledge a master. It is also difficult to believe in someone, something above you, beyond you. The extension of self, maybe, is immensely taxing. Worse, the regrets of what is gone, scrubbed off the memory walls and does not want to come back. All you can do is Laugh! Laugh so hard your teeth hurt and cheeks pain, drink some beer if you want and then ask "was mochten sie?" Be happy, that appears mature too. But be you! I am me. I am silent, chirpy, morose me. The hangover of a fuzzy night.

Chamko Yuki Car Dreams

One of those chamko dreams, typically peaky on emo and then wake up with a sudden ta-ta-ta. I dreamt of my both cars. The two white cars. And i dreamt them being sold away to someone. I kept on wailing, sobbing silently to myself. I saw Papa take big bundles of notes which all amounted to twenty thousand rupees.Some old man like Eustace drove the car. Maybe some other girl drove the other one. Then they both stopped near the neighbor's house and got off. They started digging big heaps of bricks, like those gray ones in Bangalore, just that these were red. One fell on the Eustace and just tumbled to the side. He said Oops, churn churn and resumed work. I was standing there, next to them and weeping. His words echoed through me,"I don't miss people and places." I do miss them! I miss even cars and all other non-living objects around me! I am not spaced out! I am Yuki. The lashing rain on your window. It falls with a certain intensity and elegance. Like music pouring down. Yuki doesn't need to tell you she feels, she just does. It is your look out if you never noticed Yuki change color. The cars went away and I was howling with eyes tight shut, Papa don't give them away! But like Yuki, no one really bothers to hear me say anything. And until you don't mean it, i won't tell you anything! Not even if I want you to be around. Those who don't mean to be careful will die thirsty. Rain-less, devoid of Yuki san.