Ho-Hum

Listen.

Listen to me now.

Listen because its too early. Its too late.

Shono.

They are in my head. These things.

Listen before these other things overpower me.

They just did.

Happy New Year. For all the things we had and didn't this year. For Orange Skies and Colorblinds and Jee Kardas and apple-bottom jeans. For the Fall-Out Boy and the 20 grand girl. For the dirty whore. For the greensunglass mamuni.For Ballygunge and its lost gallis. For time that will come back never the same. different but maybe the same?

For prophecies unfulfilled. For lunches owed. For the beauty of prettycolors. For manicured haircuts and Christmas-dida-eyemakeup. For Mamu. For Russell Peters. For mental cunts. For lit-ups and light up and lighten up. For Atrium and points of no return. For the lies we tell over and over. For things that were and will be. Miss is too little(?) too much. Forgive me, Vellore--the charm of your manicured greens may never be enough.

You know, "Its true."

J.Park 8 05.

And so I did.

Wrong Company.

Sucky playlist.

AND so I did.

And SO I did.

And so I DID.

Its a week later. And I'll tell you where I am supposed to be right now. Out with friends I haven't met for over a year but I've been clamoring to for so bloody long. I was always skeptical about this reunion not living upto the expectations I had set up for it so carefully and impulsively. Today seems to be the lucky day to prove my nagging suspicions right.

So I shall watch Chink-bubblegum now.

Maybe it will get rid of this inexplicable ache in the realms of bodymind.

Maybe it will help to curb the urge to light up.

For the moment, Im just tired of being the happy one.

In 15 minutes I shall be in my last teen.

18 was good. Yet somehow not enough. Not even close.

I need vodka NOW.

I need nice prem. As in ami ekta prem korbo nice prem.

I also have college tomorrow.

Barf. Fuck. Barf. Fuck.Barfuck. Fuckbarf.

K for...

I have an overwhelming obsession of late with Korean films. Korean rom coms actually. They make sense to me in some inexplicable convoluted way. Like the clumsy heroine who's too cutesy sometimes---u know in the korean-cell-phones-karaoke-and-numerous-other-Jap-gadgetsy sort of way. She ALWAYS falls for a very hot chink who she cant get her hands on and the movies don't always end happily. There's an element of reality, a simplicity(not in the storylines, mind you..) and simultaneously an edgy-ness, a Raat-Ki-Rani type freshness that sets them apart from a archetypal Hollywood romance. The leads are imperfect--never gorgeous enough that you can stare at them and ignore their trashy acting(which is the case with most Hollywood films of late) and endings never show disregard for logic and common sense. Watch My Little Bride and 200 Pound Beauty. They're classics.

In other news, Rain like Never Before Rain is pounding on my beloved college. So much so that Term Ends are getting postponed. There are rumours of a cyclone and a tsunami, by the way. If either of them happens, I'm throwing a party...arrangements will be made for it in the afterlife if I get swept away (by chance) in this one.

Tonight: Kate and Leopold. Not in Korean.

Also: Bombay...fuck you maderchods.

THIS must end now.

I aint want egg-jam no more. Please. Please. Im getting fat,pimpled and not to mention old. I can see crinkly wrinkly crow's feet. And other exaggerated forms of uglyness. Henry DeTamble is helping, but even there's only so much a time-traveler can do. Lenovo Technologies Ltd. dont you dare give up on me. I will steadily curl up and die.

Organic Chem next. Shei aarki.

O Maa.

I haven't written in quite a while now. I often wonder that if I just stop writing for a while, like quite a while, whether I'd have it within me to start all over again. You put a little bit of yourself into everything you write na... even if it is seemingly unrelated to anything that you have known or experienced. Maybe you don't even want to. But at some gandu-type subconscious level you do. Its not a measure of whether you're a terrifically bad writer or even a terribly good one. I can hear this huge booming Morgan-Freeman-type-voice in my head going, "One of the great Unsolved Mysteries of the Universe" as I write this down. Gandu voice kothakar. When you write anything, even DDMP, its like a tiny little fracture crystallised in time forever. The next attempt at writing is nothing more than adding a faded layer of cement to the fracture. Which is why when you abruptly stop you're scared whether you shall ever find it again. I'm listening to Golden Floor obsessively. Gary Lightbody just sounds like an orgasm sometimes. One you'd like to experience again and again. Definitely not a Tiny Little Fracture.

Tell me that you want to dance
I want to feel your pulse on mine
Just treat me like a stolen glance
To yourself
A dark shape on a golden floor
A sleeping planet with a molten core
From above we'd cut a slow eight shape
And much more
I'm a peasant in your princess arms
Penniless with only charm
As we're leveled by the low, hot lights
And disarmed

I'm not afraid of anything even time
It'll eke away at everything but we'll be fine

I'm folded in the bread you made
You're cold until my body bathes
You in the heat I kept aside
All these days

I'm not afraid of anything even time
It'll eke away at everything but we'll be fine

You. Dont you dare say anything about this one. Majhe Majhe hoye jaye.