Tales of Gain and Loss.

September 1, 2010

10:00 PM

How wonderful a thing it is, to have nothing to lose. Care about nothing. Have nothing, Own nothing. Keep nothing. Only want. And let the "want" define you, in entirety. I miss it.

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September 1, 2011

1:00 AM

The best thing about my life at the moment, is that it is absolutely unscripted. I have nothing holding me back or keeping me in one place. People, places, jobs, the several institutions you are a part of... they hold you down. Everything you love, holds you down. I love nothing. Thus, I am free.

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Never attempt to cure an addiction through abstinence. Do it through control.
Control is the only thing potent enough to make anything lose its charm. 

We drink copious amounts of coffee and debate the Rastafari movement; talk art and Balzac and new world order (if we're feeling particularly zany, of course), all while the world keeps turning and the sun keeps shining. But the fact that we can never entirely be sure that we're not figments of someone else's imagination just continues to blow my mind on a regular basis. And then it's Plato's cave, all over again. 

Synchrony.

As we will never belong again.

Once is also a promise, you see. 

Move to the sound. We're trapped in boxes. Mine is glass, and the other is concrete. It's loud, and the sky is exploding. So don't stop. Too soon to say, and too late to do. Let's keep it all for later. Later, if there will be one. The summer never ended, and the flowers have all melted. I saved some but the bees are dead. There is water, and the sky is in it. So is the grass, and so is our world. There's quicksand, and I buried it with my own hands. So open your eyes and dream it all away, for we can still catch the rainbow in time. But we'll stay in our boxes, filled to the brim. With snatches of an old song, an awkward pause...

... and our own tragic flaws. 

A Point Made?

The Funniest.
Randall Munroe, is still my hero.

A Life Plan in Jest: Part 1

One day, I will be the proud owner of a staggeringly humongous canine. I'm talking Irish Wolf Hounds and Pitbulls here. A FEROCIOUS, mean, fear-inspiring beast. And I will name it something like Fluffy, or Snowflake, or Honey-puff pooch-muffin.

Absolutely. 

I have a decidedly cooky sense of humor. Also, I pull mean jokes on people.

You know you need to study when...

an aberrant coup.

for there appears to be
a velociraptor
in my soup.

and I
shall eat it.
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i challenge you to make sense of the lines above the dotted one. also, this is completely justified since I have an exam tomorrow and randall munroe is my hero.

there. the cat flew right out of the bag.
it can fly, you know.

i have decided. i will write the exam sans any capitalization. i wonder if i can mess with people's heads if i keep this up long enough. again, observe the evilness that is me.

-ze rebel without socks.

Death to roses and all-things-pretty. (the painful and annoying kind, with various specimens of blunt cutlery.) DIE! DIE!! DIE!!!

To he, who does not read this blog(probably, hopefully) and does not have any idea that the searing blindness of pure fury is making me claw the plaster off my bedroom wall:

Go ahead. Annoy me some more. Pile on the indifference.

I need to redecorate anyway.
It's not just my room I'm talking about.

P.S. End-the-world-right-here-right-now. Let the compulsive knitting begin!

Giggles, Guffaws, Beer and Obama-mania.

Webcomic courtesy xkcd.

Jokes apart, I'm a big fan. I'm still completely and rapturously in awe of Obama. And considering a man who can be a talker as smooth as THIS, for the love of brilliant oratory(if nothing else), allow him the odd foot-in-mouth for once!

What's more? The president settles a scandal over jugs of ale!
I mean, this just escapes comprehension. The Harvard professor(Mr. Gates) , the cop(Mr. Crowley) and the Prez himself, bonding over beer like a bunch of college jocks, in all their post-minor-fist-fight glory. In the rose garden at the White House. That, my friends, is something truly amazing.

Word of the Day.

apocryphal \uh-POK-ruh-fuhl\, adjective:

1. (Bible) Pertaining to the Apocrypha.
2. Not canonical. Hence: Of doubtful authority or authenticity; equivocal; fictitious; spurious; false.

Apocryphal ultimately derives from Greek apokruphos, "hidden (hence, spurious)," from apokruptein, "to hide away," from apo-, "away, from" + kruptein, "to hide."

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Days like these convince me, that Dictionary.com daily subscriptions are far more prophetic than the horoscope.

Quantized Lunacy.

Q : What is the difference between a man who jumps from the 2nd floor of a building, and one who jumps from the 10th?

A : Former goes - Dhish!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa......
Later goes - AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...... DHISHHhhhhhhhhh!

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Sadism is a bitter pleasure.

My apologies, fair folk. Full-moon nights make me go cuckoo.
I'm grinning like an idiot just about now.

A Post of NO Significance.

...of absolutely no significance at all.

Today I learnt the names of the following in Hindi/Sanskrit :

1. Thumb - Angushtha - अन्गुष्ठः
2. Index Finger - Tarjini - तर्जिनी
3. Middle Finger - Madhyamika - मध्यमिका
4. Ring Finger - Anamika - अनामिका
5. "The Pinky" - Kanishthika - कनिष्ठिका

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So now, thanks to this thoroughly pointless morsel of information, we can all be exceedingly creative with our insults, pinky-promises and most importantly, primitive hand-gestures for declaring a need to pee.

Also :
"The ring finger is the only British finger on your hand, which means it always follows its biggest ally, the most powerful finger, the one finger, the little finger. The ring you often see encircling the ring finger is a fancy leash made by the little finger to drag it around. After years and years of dragging, the ring finger has already lost its own sense, sadly."

Source : Uncyclopedia.
Clickety-click <--THIS link. Really! Do it. And discover my version of Narnia. Ha.

A Valentine Concoction.

Ingredients :
1 ripe super-stinky durian
2 tablespoons rancid cod liver oil
3 beheaded male mantises
1 lizard's tail
200 ml. of H₂SO₄
2 teaspoons wormwood
*A precision-shot Magnum 5.0 for good measure

Throw first 6 ingredients into boiling cauldron and curse, in the choicest of expletives, the idiot who prayed for his jailer's daughter and the Hallmark dudes who dished out this commercialized, gag-worthy, ribbon-laced nonsense.
*POOF*

Go out. Wield THE Magnum and shoot every loathsome display of inanity.
Death to cupid, all things pink/red/mushy, the retardedly emo lovesongs and fascist shiv/ram sena monkeys.
Gaaaah!

Consternation.

I KNEW the webcomic folks were psychic!

In The Gist Of Things...

If it isn't clear enough by now... there's something very very wrong with me.
*Evil laughter* x 10

Reference for the aforementioned trespassers :
Point mouse-click-read-stare-scream.

P.S. And then people wonder why I scare myself sometimes.