::::the present equation for the passing eyes and its flashing concern::::

Hashed and whisked away, i sit at a new moment, in a new life, a new sense, sensation.
mystic language is used to say it in the raw form of expression, plainly, in the hope that empathy will find you.

peace? thats not quite what it is that i've found. i'm sure my language will start to change too in due course. to wake up one day and realise that you speak a different language from yesterdays, and think in different routes, though the old ways are never forgotten entirely.

maybe it will only be me myself, entires this, from the future vantage-point: all these words that i've arranged here. a simple arrangement of alphabets, in accepted combinations and groups, each containing associations to domesticated occurrances and concepts. domesticated like wild animals that are made to learn or follow what we want from them.

i love her.
i love all things.
i need to show her my love for her.
i need to learn to live in the world and show her that i can behave. that i can subsist and live effectively.
i need to show the world.
i need her.
i need the world.

make no mistake, she and the world aren't opposite weights of the balance.
i have to save the world, where i live and live off of and was born and will die.
i have to protect her, who i am with.
i'm with her, she with me.
i'm with the world, and the world with me.
she, part of my world.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

purple hazhar

there's a point of aggression you reach whatever it is that you're doing. be it football, be it carpentry, be it an interest in wildlife, be it living with a family, be it going to college, be it being a good human being, be it being a bad human being, be it eating an apple, be it herding a conversation through the path you have in mind. rush of blood to the head. cast in a blurrrrr. its a state without any distinctions. a mad run through city with no signs. a state which possesses deer locking horns. cat-mother eating kitten-offspring. when family, relatives, friends and acquaintances, all get together with you and relate their report cards. whrrrrrrrrrr+++++++++++============----------------................................,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

crack this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~for anty pics------------------------



the moment
the day
the time you realized that everyone you never got along with are dead or gone.

no transmission from Guru Balan

GURU's CENTER FOR NATURAL HEALING
-joint specialists available at this place of healing

he says- the president of Zimbabwe has not died. is not dead. psycholab into your head. blue collar workers from the psycholab have licked buttercup mushrooms drenched in parsley and claim it tastes like exposed iron.

A forest of trees axing themselves. Salvador Aali Sir Realist.

The cows are getting castrated
while we're
giving positive vibes to the host.

"Where to apply the vibrator machaaaaannnnnn?"

who's veed are we visiting?

A: excuse me, do you sell porn?
B: no sir.. no cell phone, only recharge.

nice link: http://youtube.com/watch?v=1VqIRmhIf60&search=steven%20segal.bloody

A Quotable Quota

"But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
-Gray

there must be a balance between long-term and short-term solutions. while it is unfair for a student with neither affinity nor interest in a given subject to be given priority over others simply owing to the community s/he comes from, it is also unfair that only expensive private schools equip children well enough (steroids?) for the race of the rats. most children do not even have the privilege of completing middle school, though perhaps they are flowers on an unseen, unsmelled course through life..
Ultimately, as the above link will illuminate, "The paths of glory lead but to the grave". however, given democracy, may all be allowed to run in the race. the problem of course, is that the track gets crowded, and if the waterboys join-in into the race, who shall serve the athletes?

ever read something you wrote ages ago and felt this awkward/embarrassing/"oh-fuck-that-couldnt-have-been-me" feeling? of course... hehe.. well, i think when im on stage before all the people i know; when confronted by each and every surface that triggers a different colour of the chameleon in me, all at once, some sort of transcendence takes place... some kind of liberation. i seek liberation baby!!!!

orkut and the beachboy

15 fuckin hours online since ten last night 'cos of blogger and bloody orkut (courtesy varun... am i to curse him for inviting me, or myself for asking to be invited?). fifteen hours and counting... my dad woke up at six earlier this evening and i was still online. he got a little worried i'll cause him bankruptcy (this piece of shit floptop wont connect to cable so i gotta use tata-indicom "walky" or whatever to connect) and i got a little worried myself cos i suddenly realized that i'd missed lunch and that i could'nt focus my eyes too clearly. besides, so many hours on my ass is asking for things like piles which i'v till now, thankfully, never experienced. so i turned off the comp with great difficulty and decide to walk to the beach. my uncle who's staying with us for a bit, said i should take the bike and go since he was done with using it (thats right i have'nt given it for service yet, in case you'r reading, vin, i'l do it tom morn). i said 'no way', half with the little intelligence that surfaced my ocean of lethargy and half wanting to impress him that i was capable of walking the five hundred or so meters to the beach.
if there's one thing orkut did to me since last night, its that it gave me some kind of courage or something (?) with which i no longer felt it difficult to make eye contact with the ppl who i walked past. but then of course, i started getting conscious of this and it got difficult anyway.
i reached the beach and sat there for a long time, after-images of the comp-screen buzzing between me and the darkening sea. i started feeling ignatius bowel movements and thought I'd play the squatter. squatting's like the whole boys hostel/gym room joint shower thing they talk about. but modesty (penis envy? thats right guys seem to feel it too after having seen 'giant arab phallus penetrating teeny teenage vagina' in the old days of puberty and desi baba) got me after all. so i try divert my attention and step into the water. 13 hours of orkut disintegrating from my system as cold waves lash at my feet. naaa... it was just my imagination taking me for a trip.... the water was kind of warm.
ever looked down completely as you walked down the waters edge? especially when the ground's nice and flat. there's no real point of reference and as you keep walking, it feels like you're getting nowhere. a treadmill experience. works when you're facing the sky as well, and there're no trees or buildings near by.
when i finally decided to head back, i saw that there was that tall-ish cliff of sand formed today which i had to climb in order to get off the tide area. but my feet were wet and there's nothing more disgusting than that wet sandy and sticky feeling as you walk back home from the beach...yuk! so i keep walking looking for a place where people have already done the dirty job of collapsing the cakelike cliff. but then i got impatient and decided to make my own way. as i walked home, the sand eventually rubbed away.

the following's my journal entry for august '04 as it is:
on the way to the beach, i walked past a leper. an old man with thick spectacles, lying on the sandy roadside. i saw his missing toes and sleepy head and shuddered. the rest of the walk also comprised of a man with no legs, dragging himself on a wheeled board. i hit the sand and took a long walk and didnt sit at all and watched the waves hit my thoughts. there was no breeze and the whole event felt like a cold and damp wall. i stopped at a point and turned to some distant shore.
a parade of hooded snakes swept towards me. they broke to a slither just in front of me and kissed my feet. a numbness caught hold of me spreading beyond to even the world outside. i broke into a run to shake loose (yes there was a time when i pulled such stunts). my head was brimming with frothy liquid. i walked through the city-slickers climbing their ladders leading to clouds and to somewhere unknown. on the way back i noticed the missing toes and fingers and i felt like i'd get jumped by the man's soul and i walked faster.
i had an extra long bath and thought id seen enough to write a few patterns of words. i know that when i sleep tonight i'll fly around in that white silled with lepers and half men.

blog for blog's sake

Sleepless in bed, tossing and turning happens with certain amount of practice and precision:
phase one- acclimatization, lying on back and getting used to "horizontality"
phase two- quite fed up of ceiling fan and light from window; turn sideways onto left shoulder
phase three- left shoulder starts to revolt; onto tummy with right cheek on pillow, right arm like fetus position with palm near face and right knee raised as though running in sleep
phase four- (due to stiffness/pain in the neck) left side takes on the duty of the right....
Fingers start twirling the edge of the blanket creating a cotton hurricane.. A whirlpool or one of those void-like passage-ways to dimension-x..
Finger starts twirling hair as brain relays images of all the curly-haired creatures that have flashed by.. they start flashing..
Fingers start ---CENSORED---

Groggily facing wash basin mirror, specked with toothpaste-foam sprays from the past days. rinse mouth and start cleaning tongue with old brush kept aside for the purpose. dizzying waves of tingling permeate from tongue, inwards, like weird scene from matrix when mercury-like mirror consumes anderson/neo. stomach churning. skies fill with clouds like devil has possessed (eyes turn mighty red).
left hand shoots to lower back and begins scratching vigorously... taken over by archetypical reflex the same that probably causes ticklish dogs to scratch their sides/the ground/the ticklers' hands.
goosepimples, hard nipples and watery eyes. no longer groggy. alive. more alive than ever after during the rest of the day.

Loner in a crowd. hands start to thump beats on thigh, or starts mouthing words to most pop-ish song on random access memory.

(Now that i'v mentioned em, they'l never happen as they once did. i'll stop the twirling from guiding me to sleep, etc.. sacrifice of the blogger to PRICED reader.)

From bacteria to fish to amphibian to terrestrial to ape to ..... blogger! ..doing theatre, studying literature, riding bike, satisfying sense of well being with occasional take-a-look-around phases or by harmlessly pondering solutions to hunger and poverty in the world, even indulging in occasional charity with no considerable damage to contents of wallet; playing and appreciating music; talking, ETC...

Occasional take overs of the past.

I was walking from my classroom towards the lunch hall in school one day. i was a little late so i was pretty much the only one outside lunch. "silence" was being observed in the hall. i waited outside so i wouldnt be spotted walking in 'insensitively'. i looked at a tree -dont remember of what sort- and got carried away.
"for a minute there i lost myself". i think i forgot it was a 'tree' that i was looking at. i think i forgot that there were 'people' close by. i think i forgot that i was 'standing' on my 'feet' and 'moving' my 'hands'.
'Me'?
I think i pretty soon forgot that i had 'forgotten' even.
Thats what i think happened.

Gestalt patterns of stimulation?

on a supple DREAM and general observations

i never did ever venture beyond a simple "it was good/great/splendid" or a "naaa... balls to that!" in my opinion about movies, books, plays and such stuffs.. but how company changes a person! i find it now, so hard not to compare and find fault (even while forgetting to pay any actual attention). and when i am thinking back upon the thing, i start looking at it in through the very narrow chinks of the walls of the wise criticism that the wise ones around me have wisened me with. its a fucking curse i say! but no! never will i give in to shittiness of it all..never commit suicide....i'll never go about it with an 'o, for a life of sensation rather that of thought' or beg to be scuttling crabs with no conception of its scuttling. im glad for thought, for what are we but for thought? perhaps if i think enough (dont try such stunts, karthik, you say?) then i'l solve the muddles born of little thought; like saying that if the apocalypse and destruction in human instinct is the natural order of things, then as natural is an effort to make things better, and so, that such an effort is worth it; or like saying that if the libido is the path through the jungle, then surely the ego shines the light there (oasis lyrics come to my mind).
anyway, i really enjoyed the DREAM. i tended to feel a little bored of the ever-winding plot, but im convinced its only because i was once part of an msnd production with 8 shows, many more run throughs and a lot more rehearsing... however, i must say that i would not have understood what was happening if i hadnt been familiar with it. how the fuck do i know, you ask? :p and i'd show you the tongue again if it werent occupied with more important employment. the mixed cast and their multi-lingual speech- bhashas from all corners of india were brought together- was really...ummm... super duper interesting! i particularly felt such joy and pr.... pride and joy when the mallus did their thing. however, here it comes, i wonder how much the audience that wasnt familiar with the play could have gotten out of the play, besides the "visual and musical treat" that it offered to the ears and noses, respectively. i mean, how much of the elemental story ... that is, the story in its original script form, could'v gotten across... to take a balanced stand upon the fence, a lot did come through, at the spirito-sensual level (!) ... the chemistries, etc... the sets were too frikkin good, and the actors were so amazing i neednt even think of going there!! they were pros! my personal favs besides (ofcos) bottom, were the female fairy (so agile and about! ...and pretty too), and good ole malayali obe (i wish i could reproduce some of his dialogues here, but neither my mal of that level nor my memory proves helpful).
to sum up, i went to watch a certain enourmously-talented-&-imaginative-without-me-having-tosay-so tim supple's midsummernight's dream with my dad, and saw so many people there... bala, krishna, tara, sunder and andrea (tho only-sigh-from far), mr.and mrs. ramnarayan, prashanth and roshan from college, etc............................
i also happened to really enjoy the show notwithstanding the many distractions from within and without. well, thats theatre, innit?
p.s. i got a free complementary fan and odomos (if anyone reads all this its those who know already, but.... wha'eva)