my body has finally started taking revenge for all the indignities i heaped on it during our stay together for last 29 years.
with such abuse and the self registered its protest with a highly annoying whirring that scared me shitless the first time i heard it and decided to land back home. over time, I will try to put this down to childish petulance and accordingly responded. thus we will get along.
i'm feeling slightly delirious - have taken a massive break from work. i spent today wondering about my life, right now i so want to keep my bollywood cousins, so out of my fucking life to misinterpret my usual “i love me folks, but just can’t live with ‘em” to me mom and she shelling me with 1500 questions of sorts. do they ever stop thinking!!!!!
dr. apollo “king pin shyte”
dr. v.b. bhasin “specialization: parental scare”
dr. hemant kalyan “oops!!!! wrongly diagnosed”
dr. d.k. gupta “angry ready to chop ol’ man”
dr. s.p. mandal “or it should be dr. s.p. mandal and son and his pathshala”
dr. barjinder singh “finally i have found the one i was looking for”
these doctors are no where close to the LCM as far as the depth of my hip and range of the diagnoses they have landed upto.
after:
- hospitalization
- arse cracked open
- sickness
- nothingness
"boredom sets into the boring mind" growls Hetfield on "Holier Than Thou". does that mean i have a boring mind? boredom has certainly taken up residence in that quirky little mind of mine.
if i was to write short stories on events of my life, i can so automatically expect each story to have a mind-blowing twist. you would read the first story in this book and be bewildered……what about the dramatic twist in the very last sentence? by the time you would read the second story you would have understood the style is a bit bitter too. i realized great stories can be told without everything hanging on the all-important last paragraph.
truly art for art’s sake.
one of my fav’s would be a tragicomic account of how all of my ex’s, perfectly sane women would land up in a mental asylum where i would tell them macabre ghost story while sitting around the fire.
has it happened ever happened to you, that you get too caught up with other worries to let loose on the creative front?
i was reading through my previous posts and saw that i have earmarked quite a few topics to post on. the ample trip to various doctors, some of my experiences on the hospital bed, partial body wax (including complete brazilian) and of course never ending days, all need to be listed here.
patience, my dear reader (whoever you may be), soon all these topics and more will be addressed. but for the moment allow me to be expansive and to ramble on.
i saw a nice movie called "The Ghost and the Darkness" yet again.
i also read a play called 'Gasping' by Ben Elton. this was a very funny and satirical play about the power of marketing. i just finished reading Bertrand Russell's essay "In PRaise Of Idleness". so far it's been a fantastic read.
have downloaded The Dark Knight Returns the other day.
no, i will not review it. there are already 243 reviews on amazon and a lot of them are written in debatespeak – at the outset, per se, your argument holds no water( of course it don’t. my argument ain’t a fucking bladder).
i remembered this deeply disturbing Dexter’s Lab episode this morning – the kid flies off into an obscure area of his lab where all his outdated and hence discarded creations confront him. all these robots just slowly close in on Dexter and i remember it mainly because i generally do not experience emotional distress while watching Dexter’s Lab.
a thought: i somehow dive into my comp’s hard drive (like in those delightful Johnny Quest episodes) and wander around the D:\Music\The Good Ol’ Days area when i hear a ‘baby,baby,baby,push,push,pooosh’ and see Robert Plant lurching toward me. King Diamond crawls out of ‘Some Kinda Monsters’ singing ‘Return of the Vampire’. Scariest of all, a fat man with a funny haircut and funnier glasses makes me jump by asking me if I can feel the love tonight.
what have i been smoking? nothing. why do you ask?
and never in my life have i felt such an acute need for new music. the bastards at Radio City have abused my inner child beyond recognition. some nights i lie in bed whimpering (in pure punjabi) about the right age for a girl to get married!!!!!!!!!!
last week i caught myself singing something unfamiliar –realized what it was and clapped a hand to my mouth but it was too late, too late, the words were already out – aa mil ja phir gale, haste haste – an unpardonable sin that will make sure the gates of heaven (or wherever Cliff Burton, Bon Scott and Dimebag Darrell are currently hanging out) will forever stay shut on me.
in case you’re worrying if getting old has made me broad-minded, let me put you at ease:
why did Jack the Ripper take to cannibalism?
if you answered, “because his doctor advised him to eat whoresome meals”, then you have a keen mind that knows growing old from growing up (and broad-mindedness doesn’t mean having a mind for broads, does it?).
right, we are off on our crutches to catch forty wanks now.
