Blah/Blah/Blog to Death: 2009

Saturday, September 26, 2009

The water melon tree.

There is overt sexual tension in this house.
I'm never comfortable, and for some reason i keep getting these strange vibes from god knows where.

Evening: She has her hands all over him. Do they not know i'm here? I'm feeling awkward, looking away from them, my face permanently turned the other direction. I think of getting up, but then i think that would only bring more attention to me and lead to an awkward situation for both parties.

Night: we're having dinner. somehow, her pregnant belly is adding to all these tensions. i keep looking back at her swelled up stomach, and i can't help imagine them doing it. I think it's only natural, that when i look at the fruit, the deed that led to it would cross my mind. Or perhaps i'm just perverted.

Morning: Saw my first nymph today. Now i know what he meant in Lolita. Though after a while i got used to the glamour and beauty.

Wisps of smoke-like wisdom

I'm sitting in the smoking room.

I'm the youngest in the room by a few decades. Since when did smoking become a habit of the old?
I feel like an infant in front of all these ancient relics.
Truth be told, i'm fed up of smoking these stupid cherry cigars that i bought at the duty-free shop.

I finally pluck up the courage and offer to exchange one of my cigars, for a full blown Marlboro red with an old lady, who i think is German.
She refuses, with a sweet smile, and gives me the marlboro for free. Now i feel even more like a kid.

Smoking the Marlboro, reading Leo Tolstoy, and occasionally writing interesting snippets in my diary.

The number of people in the room has really increased now. Smoke fills the room, reducing visibility, choking people and bringing tears to every pair of eyes in the room.

One Indian comes in, and then leaves in 5 seconds, leaving his cigarillo in the ashtray, saying the smoke is too much.

"Yahaan pe to sutta jalaane ki zaroorat hi nahin hai", he tells me before leaving. I smile and nod my head, thinking what a pussy he is.

As the Marlboro comes to an end, i regret not having bought the carton. Anyway, it's too late now.

In the plane:

As i watch this crappy plane safety video, i remember Tyler's theory in Fight Club, where he says that they have oxygen masks in planes because oxygen gets you high, so that everyone is calm during any catastrophies.
The girl in this animated cartoon also looks wayyy too happy for someone who's about to jump from a plane into the water. By the way, what happened to her son who was with her in the previous video? Abandoned during crisis? snigger

Something in the planeis making me giggly. perhaps its the difference in air pressure?

heehee.. can't seem to stop giggling.
The Sardar sitting next to me is giving me weird looks.

Over this power

There are many layers to this. More than meets the eye.
It is possible to walk through one layer to the other, or phase entirely through layers.
It is especially easy for me, since i have been doing this since childhood. Sometimes, i think I'm bigger than this all, bigger than the sound, the visions. But it's all just a coincidence, really. There's nothing special about me. OK, granted there is, but i haven't done anything to deserve it, and it could just as easily have been anyone else.
Just fate, natural selection, or whatever.

Perhaps these are all just delusions of grandeur. I really do hope they are.

Cuz if they're not, then.......

Downward Spiral

It's perfect. There's nothing better than the term downward spiral to describe a life that's going from bad to worse, or a situation that goes rapidly out of control.

It's in the nature of things to decay, go bad, get spoiled, die. and things very often do go from bad to worse.
A vicious circle, each event eating the other in one destructive bite.
hmmm...

I think I'm really pessimistic today.

Monday, September 21, 2009

The Voodoo Subject.

I have a voodoo doll in your name,
a hair from your mane.

This spell will work, as it always has.
The pain will stay, as it always does.

I'll poke a needle in your eye.
cut you up from inside,
pluck your limbs apart one by one...
my, we're gonna have so much fun!

The image of you screaming in pain,
brings a warm, happy feeling in my soul.
you'll try to escape in vain,
as i'll be bleeding your bowel.

You'll be sitting somewhere,
Unaware.
The shock of hurt.
When the blood will spurt.

leaves you bleeding,
without a clue,
of what just happened...

Scream all you want my love,
as you lie,
writhing in pain.

Every drop of your blood,
will be sweet revenge,
Served warm for a change.

And at last,
as i burn the voodoo doll to ash,
i can imagine, the smell of your flesh cooking.

as the straws burn,
there'll be a smile on my face. :)

(c) felix bambaboy

Night time frolic.

Saturday night at the club. Music too loud to hear myself think. I think this is the ninth cocktail in my hands. should go for some cocaine next.
I stand on my perch, looking into the crowd. Disco lights highlighting wild faces.
It's easy to differentiate the desperate singles from the non-committed and the unavailibles.
The desperates look here and there, eying for prey with sharp eyes.
rubbing against each other, the static friction inviting others to join in between.

I look over from my perch, and gently a smile comes over my face.

It's hunting time.

emo

best emoticon. ever.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Dream/State

My name is Madeline. I keep having this recurring dream, or should I say nightmare, after which I always wake up in a cold sweat. I think it’s from the time when I was 4 years old. This is how it goes-

I get down from the bright yellow school bus, books in hand, bag in tow,

A smile on my face. J

I open the front door to our house and enter with a cheerful shriek of” mommy, I’m home!”

I gaze in shock at the floor. All my dolls lay on the floor mutilated, violated. Their appendages have been cut through with some sort of sharp object. Some of their limbs are missing, some of their eyes are gouged out, some of their heads have been cut off.. And all of them are BLEEDING. The books fall from my hand in shock. I Cover my eyes and start to scream. The scream slowly builds up in volume. “aaaahhrrrRggggGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

I rush towards my mommy’s bedroom, my feet seemingly moving on their own. I hastily push open the door and rush towards my mom. But something makes me stop in my tracks. My mom is kneeling on the floor. There is blood on her hands and her hair. I see some cuts in her hand and run towards her, wanting to make sure she’s okay. Wanting to take away her pain. “Mommy , are you okay? Who did this to you?” I ask frantically.

I too am on my knees now, her hands in my hands, her blood on my hands. HER BLOOD ON MY HANDS.

I wait for her reply, waiting for her to lift her face up so I can look into her eyes, those reassuring eyes. For I know that once I look into her eyes, everything will be fine. I know that she will wipe my tears and all will be good with the world.

She starts to mumble… the words make no sense.. slowly she lifts her face up.

I cant help it- I start to scream again “AAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!”

ONE of her eyeballs is missing from its socket. My mouth lies open in shock, the scream never-ending. I am still staring at the socket, where there is empty apace, filled with raw flesh and blood, where an eye should have been. With shock I avert my eyes from the sight. Suddenly, her hand reaches out and grabs my ponytail. With such force it pains like I have never felt pain before.

PAIN SUCH AS I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED.

Still in shock, I grab her hands with my tiny fingers, trying to stop it but to no avail. I am wailing loudly now, crying my heart out. “Why is she doing this?” I am confused, but for now, the pain is all I can think about.

She drags me to the floor and then her other hand moves to the side, trying to reach for something. I look with tear-filled eyes and see the glint of a sharp knife. She grabs it and brings it towards herself… Now, I am screaming “ No, mommy, no !!!”

There is no expression on her face. Staring somewhere into the distance she brings it down, right into one of my eyes.

And she finally wakes up. Heavy breathing, her stomach in knots, body all wet from the sweat.

She throws the blanket over to the side, and gets off the bed. The way to the bathroom is dark, but she walks through it easily on memory, even though it has only been two nights since she’s here. The floor feels ice cold on her bare, wet feet. She welcomes the feeling, and takes off the rest of her clothes on the way, left on the floor, like discarded children.

After washing her face, she looks into the mirror. Looking at the deep dark circles, embedded beneath her eyes, black craters, and proof of a lack of satisfactory slumber. Without sleep, life slowly seems to be standing still…… still life…… a frozen painting… her, staring into the mirror… a snapshot saved in the mind.

Night is the only refuge now. Black as it is… night is the only solace.

Mornings, bright as they are, bring to light the harsh cruelty that is life… Mornings…

Mornings are meant for mourning. Mourning in black.

She sits on the couch and moans….

Thursday, June 18, 2009

lizard blowjob....

hhahaha.. well... this pic came out preeettyy good so i decided to post it..... hehe

fun times....

Monday, April 27, 2009

this is not a poem..

excerpts from the travel diary-

It looks like the plane has landed.

Ting!

People get up in a hurry and start to leave. The aisle quickly fills up. Where are all these people rushing to?
Me, happily sitting in my seat, not in a hurry, no, not at all !

“Chalo, bete?”, the aunty next to me says, already on her feet with her purse in her hands. What the hell is SHE in such a hurry for?!

I put on my headphones and pretend not to hear her. Auntyji looks shocked. She stands for sometime wondering what to do. I’m quivering inside.

Looking back, I wonder what made me behave that way. Normally I’m a very nice and polite person. Maybe it was the bloody Mary’s that caused the irritation and fearlessness.

She stands for sometime wondering what to do. She might even be saying something, but I can’t hear her over ‘audioslave’ blaring through my headphones. She touches me on my shoulder. I don’t react. I almost can’t control my laughter, wondering what Auntyji is going to try next! He he he! A half-smile forms on my lips, but I quickly swallow it down.

Finally she gives up, and sits down, staring at me with ferocious eyes. If looks could kill, I would have died right then! I’m just glad she’s alone on the flight or there would be some angry Punjabi relative she would have called. Not that I would have cared.
I’m in the mood for a nice argument today.

I suppose she must be wondering what kind of kid I am, but frankly, I couldn’t care less.
She should have figured that out when I was having all those cocktails, and if she hadn’t given me all those disapproving stares, she wouldn’t be in this position right now.

I wait till everyone else has gone, and one of the cute airhostesses comes with a fake smile and tells me I have to leave now. I pick up my bag and leave without looking back at Auntyji. When I reach the gateway, I look back for a final glance. She still looks very pissed off. He he.

I look around in the airport pondering what to do next. I finally decide to buy an over-priced sandwich since I’m pretty hungry.
How is it possible for a tiny sandwich to cost 80 Rs.?
Anyway, I ask the guy at the shop whether there are any bars or pubs at this airport.” No”, he replies with a smile. I return the smile, he returns the change, and I grab my sandwich and leave.

Why would they not have alcohol in the airport? Maybe they don’t want the pilots to get drunk. I can imagine it now. Signs at the airport saying ‘don’t drink and fly.’

I decide to go and get my luggage finally.
On my way to the exit, I spot Auntyji! sitting on a chair with a disappointed look. She looks kind of sad, looking here and there for someone. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost.
Then I remember those disgusting looks she was giving me during the flight, and the anger comes rushing back. You shouldn’t judge people so easily, lady.

Anyways, I guess who ever was supposed to pick her up must be really late. Well, I’m sure whoever it is (husband/son/daughter/random relative), they’re going to get some nice hate-filled words from Auntyji’s mouth. She was already pissed off at me, and now she’s positively furious!
She catches me looking at her and quickly lowers her gaze. Wow!
So now SHE’S embarrassed!
Wanted to get out in a hurry but turns out she has to wait some more.
Way to go, Auntyji!

Grinning to myself, I walk outside the exit into the glaring sunlight.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

White stuff...

White threads,
swimming around in transparency.

I'm a mass-murderer,
With every jerk of my fist,
Pumping out millions of potential lives.

Curious creatures,
swimming around on my bed-sheets,
in their futile search for the ever-elusive egg.

Their potential for life wasted,
for my sadistic pleasures.

Though I don't do it as often as before.
Why is that?
Am i going impotent, older, sterile?

Are my bags running dry,
from over-use,
or exhaustion.?

Are these over-heated circuits,
of my white machine,
destroying my daughters,
before they're born?

But as i orgasm once more,
none of it matters,
And i am truly, blissfully,
happy and in heaven.

and some people say abortion is murder.
well,
what does that must make me?
a mass murderer?

Friday, April 10, 2009

The Run

I gather the strands of my hair,
pull them back,
tie a pony,
shoulders hunched,
ready for action.

I leap into the air,
and start the run,
the sand below my bare feet,
and between my toes,
the wind in my hair.

I inhale deply,
and my lungs take in,
the sweet fresh ocean breeze,
and I exhale,
dark polluted breath from my black lungs.

I feel my heart beating,
so fast,
so hard,
the waves recede,
and now i run on wet sand,
leaving my footprints for all to see.

I know that they will go,
when the next waves come,
And still i keep running.

Till the adrenalin is pumping through my veins,
the stitch in my stomach,
pains more than ever.

Running away from all the worries,
all the problems,
all the silent SCREAMS!,
all the pain,
till i can run no more.

I sit on the beach,
contemplating my life,
i take a cigarette,
put it in my mouth,
and light it.

And as the nicotine rushes to my brain,
i suddenly wonder,
Where the fuck are my sandals ?!

Saturday, March 28, 2009

something i made in photoshop...
just a lot of different brushes of different sizes and colors..
overlapping on each other..
black background is also some paint..
in short... there's no photo involved in this.. it's made from scratch!
but anyone who has ever used photoshop must already know that , right?!
i know it's pretty lame but you'll have to see it anyway..
and now get off your lazy asses and open photoshop.!!
there's lots of stuff you can learn pretty quickly!!
just do it!

A Hunger for knowledge..

This hunger for knowledge,

is not letting go,

i know too many things,

that i ought not to know.

information sticks like my brain is flypaper,

and i always remember the stuff a long time later.

it's like a bottomless pit that will never fill up,

till all the things that everyone knows has been soaked up

so i read till i drop,

i try but i can't stop

my brain is already full,

but there's always more room on the top.

and slowly everything starts to dissatisfy me,

because i know so much,

and the world is not enough.

i keep evolving,

and they seem to stand so till.

i have broadened my perceptions,

and now they seem smaller still

and it reaches the point,

i become an intellectual giant,

stomping on others philosophies,

as if it were an ant.

but i know that pride always goes for a fall,

and the real truth is,

when you know everything,

you know nothing at all.

Monday, March 23, 2009

The city of Chennai\madras

namma chennai= our chennai।
The tamil letters read kaa-pi..which is how "coffee" is pronounced in tamil.

this is just one of the many temples.. seriously, there are just too many of them..!
there's something about chennai... that's special..

maybe it's the jasmine flowers in every female's hair... the heavenly smell of flowers assaulting your olfactory senses at the hundreds of flower shops , and also every time you walk by a lady... it feels like you're walking in a garden of jasmine flowers rather than a city...

or perhaps the temples at every corner...
the overwhelming religiousness.. specifically in hinduism which is one of the first things you notice... by way of all the foreheads decorated with chandanam, vibhooti or some other form of tilak...you'll hardly ever find a plain forehead anywhere...

super stardom next to godliness...the fan clubs at every corner... devotees of the magnificent rajnikanth,skilled kamal hassan,charismatic vijay,muscular surya... and cherubic namitha... one often wonders whether this love for film stars is misplaced but when you find people at a bar arguing about their respective stars like little fan boys, you realize that they really love them... and respect them too.. which is more than what can be said about fans in other places...

of course they love their language to death... but i think they have reason for that too.. i have often heard people exclaiming about the beauty of Tamil.. add the great poets and philosophers and there's sufficient reason for their devotion o the language..

the food.. of course now where do i begin..?! sadly, the majority of the city is vegetarian but i adjusted quite quickly and compensated by gorging on masala dosas and chilli porathas.. sadly the north indians who have shifted here seem to still eat only their same old food... what is it that makes people so reluctant to change..?
wherever they go, they want the same type of food and culture that they grew up on.. to the extent that i know people who, even when they go on vacation to a place, eat the same food they get at home instead of having the local cuisines..
sadly, this tradition is more prevalent in Indians....

anyways, i seem to have gone completely off my rocker..
i better sign off before i start to write too much.! this was supposed to be about only Chennai, anyways... so bye! and congratulate me for my first deviant..!

Blah/Blah/Blog to Death