Beyond the Influence of Reason

It's been a while...

2013-01-23T01:53:00.000+05:30

Back after a long hiatus. My life has changed in such profound ways, I will not be continuing my old style of blogging.

After getting interested in politics in the parts of the world that I am familiar with, I will be concentrating on discussing my views of the neighborhood of India, and the ham-fisted way in which India goes around dealing with the issues it faces both internally and externally.

So, please go ahead and unsubscribe, I won't mind. You guys have been good, and I appreciate having had you as readers, but this blog is changing direction and most of you won't like where it is headed.

RG770

2011-09-15T12:40:00.000+05:30

I just bought an Ibanez '93 RG770 off ebay, these are prized beauties that are very underrated. Mine comes with the original Ibanez/USA pups, the oh so buttery smooth Lo Pro Edge and with the original wizard edge. Can't wait till it gets here, but I already know that I won't be disappointed.

Cheers.

Starting today.

2011-07-17T08:42:00.005+05:30

Illustrations and lettering by SlipperyReflections

Headrush!

2011-04-23T07:31:00.000+05:30

First, the boring bit:

On day three (and a half) of my program, my blood is being cleansed of the carbon monoxide (CO) and other impurities improving its ability to carry oxygen, this is making me feel lightheaded and dizzy every time I get up. I am fighting off very strong cravings and experiencing fever like symptoms as my body gets accustomed to no nicotine. Well, they said that the more you smoke, the harder it will be when you quit, and for someone who just quit a 2 pack a day routine since the last 2 years, I think I am in for a long ride. Hope it gets easier as time progresses.

Now,

I went to sleep drunk last night, I had a normal dreamless sleep until I found myself in one. I was with two other people-people whom I think I was familiar with, within the dream. I don't know who they were though. I am in a crowded part of some city purportedly somewhere in the US. Suddenly, I look to the sky and see the ominous shape of a mushroom cloud in the distance, it is brief and lights up the night like the way lightning usually does.

I immediately think to myself; "They did it, there is nothing I can do now, a few more seconds" I feel angry, like I know who did it, angry at their stupidity, angry at the fact that I had no choice in this matter. I also felt like I had some premonition of this happening. But I never thought it would actually happen, nuclear war? The destruction of humanity? That was the stuff the people at r/conspiracy like to talk about.

I am going to die! You know... when you are young, you never really think about dying, right? It's a long way away, no need to worry about it now. I, however, am paranoid about it and think about it a lot and quite frankly I am terrified of it. I am getting scared and I go and hug these two people, because I suddenly feel like their company will give me some courage, and wait. I can't call my parents because it is too late, there isn't enough time.

And I close my eyes as I feel the shock wave getting closer. And strangely, I am suddenly curious, I want to know what it feels like to die. Maybe my subconscious mind knows and will accordingly make this dream play out. I feel the wave hit, and my mind suddenly feels light and I feel like I am stoned, very strongly stoned, and then... I open my eyes. Sunlight. Blue blanket. 2011. MBA. GPA. Right.

pira?

2011-04-22T12:09:00.000+05:30

It's been so long, does it even matter? Let's just say that equinoxes have changed and the poles have traded places. Ah, vodka, how I love your soul! she is the culprit, like I told you so. Maybe, I see a diversion, a scenic route! but we will end up at the same place. That's plagiarized.

Anyway, enough with that cryptic crap, I have embarked on, what is ostensibly, a long journey towards quitting smoking. I have been nicotine free since the past 2 days, and boy can I tell you it is hard! I have no one else to turn to and so I turn to you, while I try to survive through what is, at least in my mind, one of the hardest things I will ever do.

The cravings are strong and the ever increasing stress is making it so much tougher to carry on. But I promise to submit updates regarding my 'smoking cessation endeavor' :D

In other news, I will be moving to Detroit in May as an intern at a company there. I think that a big depression is around the corner and that you should purchase canned/dried food as Inflation is going to fuck the middle class in the ass, if you know what I mean ;)

Just to fuck with you, here is a short story:

Aaaaaaaaaa... Maybe some other day ;D

ONOZ, Teh internetz is scareee and doesn't afraid of anything!!!

2010-12-01T11:34:00.000+05:30

So, I used to be a very patriotic kid, I remember standing up regardless of my surroundings whenever the national anthem used to be played/sung.

I grew out of that phase pretty soon, realizing that the fact that I was born in India was just random chance, a bit like I felt when I realized that I was born into my religion by pure chance. Now both religion and patriotism are ghosts of the past.

But today, I chanced upon some videos on youtube of my first language (In India we call it the 'mother tongue') - Tulu. It is a Dravidian language spoken by a mere 2 million people in the world. And, after years of shunning any other language other than English, it actually felt good to watch a video with my mother tongue being spoken in it. At first I couldn't catch what was being said, but in a while, my ears got used to it, and I understood what was going on.

And then I did a google search for 'learn tulu' and guess what, there was even an ehow article that gave URLs where you could go and learn it.

The internet is truly scary!

surprise repost

2010-10-11T17:09:00.003+05:30

Repost from last year, why? because I still think it is pertinent and accurately portrays my opinion. (and also, I find it funny)

--------------------------

India.

My Great Country!

~~4000~~ ~~3000~~ ~~7000~~ heck I don't know lets just say 6000 years old!

'invented' the zero

Future Economic power

Largest Democracy

Friendly People

Bullshit!

India, the 'bulund bharat' the land of peace and prosperity. The one that people like Max Mueller and Francois Gautier fell in love with. The land of non-violence, where kids respect their elders and women are treated like gods, where the gods are merciful and the water; clear. Let us see what people have done to it.

Now, it will be impossible to have a comprehensive list of all the things that I want to talk about so I will focus on the ones that come to mind and will add the rest as they arrive. I don't get paid to write this, but I want you to read it. I want it to enter the collective conscious.

1) Athiti devo Bhava

Which is in sanskrit, that almost meta-physical language, the devbhash: the language of the gods, an almost purely synthetic language with an astonishingly modern structure to its grammar, it translates to this: "The Guest is equivalent to God" or something similar. My high school Sanskrit is quite weak as I studied it for just two years in Mangalore.

This saying is a part of the national identity, we are proud of this fact and realize that it is an uncommon sentiment, one that merits admiration from the rest of the peoples of the world. Heck, we even welcomed the Central Asian hoards who basically pillaged the entire subcontinent for a few hundred years.

That we still follow this tenet is remarkable, I have placed a map below to illustrate how we put this ancient, nay! over 6000 year old principle to practical use, thereby cementing our nation's place as one of the leaders of the future:

This is a map which shows the states that have the tourist police stationed there. Tourist police who? I don't really know, I had never heard of them, apparently they do exist. All of these states reported Cases of Rape and Molestation of Tourists in 2008, this does not mean that the other states did not. The article that I 'borrowed' it from states that the 'tourist police' is quite impotent or shall I say 'spunkless?'

Remember Bittu Mohanty? the rapist son of a DGP of police who raped a German Woman and then skipped bail? Whatever happened to him? I guess he must be stalking some other tourist to have his way with. A cursory search on google gives the following results:

No less than the Supreme Court of our country moved to stay his father's arrest, even though he was the one who posted his son's bail and I assume that he would have given some sort of surety. So there, fuck you OJ, we can do the same here in India.

Interesting to note is the result at the bottom which tries to make it look like the case was blown out of proportion just because of the victim's skin color, because you see, otherwise, getting raped is no big deal. Try telling that to the families of the victims.

Awww... Don't call it rape, it is not rape, we here in the department like to call it 'surprise sex' It is harmless, really and besides those white women were asking for it. Also, see this train? do you know why its windows are shut? * wink* * wink*

Perhaps the ultimate clincher for the police is the peculiarly Indian; experience, wherein the second one sees a policeman, one starts to feel guilty. And if you are involved in an incident when one decides to arrive, then god help you.

Amusing Anecdote #1: The other day, a drunk man entered our garden to lie down. After repeated attempts to evict him proved futile and instead made him belligerent, I called the police number 100. The guy picked up after 2 minutes and upon my explanation, said that he would send the police and cut the call before I had a chance to tell him my address. And that was it. They never came. Or they went to someone else's home.

bored

2010-10-09T23:03:00.003+05:30

I originally wanted to draw a small comic strip, but since I couldn't draw a decent line to save my skin, I decided instead to turn it into a written piece, now bear in mind that I came up with this when I was in NY recently with my Student run equity Fund with whom I am an analyst, so it might not be funny to you because we are in the business of predicting stock movements blah blah blah...

So here goes...

Cast

Investment Banking Guy who is full of himself referred to as Prima

Old Gypsy Woman who runs a psychic cart on a NY street referred to as Secunda

----------------

Prime: (Walks up to Secunda's cart) I have a question for you, tell me whether I will pay you

Secunda: (Takes out a gun and points it at him) Yes.

Prima: You're good!, here, have my wallet.

FIN

yaw yaw yaw

2010-09-19T02:17:00.001+05:30

Will be back to regular blogging from next week onwards. Lots of things have happened since I last wrote. Till then... take care.

Hiatus much?

2010-07-31T07:52:00.002+05:30

Well, I am sorry about my lack of posts this week, I had a very bad case of viral fever that prevented me from even switching on my laptop. I should get back to regular posting from this Sunday onwards.

Hope you all have a good weekend, I know mine is going to be shitty.

Dream

2010-07-02T06:59:00.001+05:30

The waves have now subsided.

The tempest is long gone;

consigned to the lanes of history,

and the flame burns no more.

A critiquALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD!!!

2010-06-25T22:33:00.003+05:30

A conversation I had with a classmate recently went somewhat like this...

Me: So there I was looking at the official website of the interpol, and I saw their wanted list, where they have pictures of the criminals. And they had the same chick twice with the same name and only the d.o.b was different. One stated 4 March and the other one 3 April, so you see what went on there, it's because you Americans use such a funny date format.

Him: Wait, what were you doing on the interpol website?

Me: Oh, uh... I was looking to see if I was in it.

Him: What?

Me: Yeah, I once shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

Him: WTF?

Me: Yeah, you know... Johnny Cash? No? Dammit, no one gets it.

Him: You were just trying to see if there were any attractive women on the wanted list huh?

Me: Yeah :| what can I say? I don't know how to justify it. Fuck you man!

Him; haha!

----------------------------------------------------

In other news, Futurama is back with Season 6 and I like the first two episodes very much. I am so glad they bought it back. Futurama is my all time favorite show, nothing can compare to its meta-humor, physics references and general nerdiness. Nothing! And I think the reason I like it so much is because my humor resembles its the most. So which show do you think your humor most closely matches?

And people... That was not a rhetorical question. Spend a minute or two and reply you lazy ass bums!

Also, you can see my mood has considerably improved the last few hours, I think this time it will last for a while. Until someone comes along and messes it up again that is.

Baby Me

2010-06-16T21:57:00.003+05:30

When I was younger and I mean like 9-10 I used to live in Saudi Arabia where I attended the Indian Embassy School in Dhahran. My Dad used to work there as a Radiologist and my mom used to teach at my school.

I was a good student even then, the days spent reading books from the library instead of out playing with the other kids meant that often, I would already know more about a topic than the rest of the class. I remember now, they used to call me 'scientist' which is funny considering how I am studying Finance right now.

Anyway, they would have these yearly meetings where the parents would come and meet the teachers and could get an update as to how their child was faring at school. And every year they would say the same thing about me; "Oh yes, he is very bright, and does well in school, but he is always day dreaming in class" Now because of this, my parents eventually stopped going because there was nothing new they'd ever say.

A consequence of this was that my parents would always ask why I would day dream in class, and I never could answer them. They eventually started asking me whether I was worried about my wife and kids that I had left back in India. Needless to say the thought of marrying a girl and having kids is not a great one for a 10 year old boy who still hasn't developed an interest in women. I mean this was still the 'girls have cooties' days.

this is what I looked like back then, a far cry from now :)

As I have grown up, this day dreaming has somewhat gone away and in its stead I have a new hobby. When I like something, I concentrate totally on it, its like I get a single minded devotion toward achieving what I want, and this is good when it means I study well or end up doing something worthwhile. The problem is that when I am like this, I obsess over my goal, trying to make sure that everything goes according to plan. And I don't use that word 'obsess' lightly, I seriously over-think like crazy to a point where I start annoying people.

They still ask me this question(about my still non-existent wife and kids) and I laugh. This tells me that they still think of me as their little awkward kid. I love them for this :)

Anyway, this obsessing is apparently a form of OCD (self-diagnosed)

And this is all that I wanted to say.

Critique in College Park

2010-06-10T06:40:00.005+05:30

I am currently reading Joe Sacco's 'Footnotes in Gaza' a sort of follow up to his previous book 'Palestine' This is more centered around a particular incident when the Israelis killed a few hundred young men in Gaza in the mid-fifties. Like in his previous book, Sacco is a little biased against the Israelis but he has acknowledged this, so I think I can let that slide.

The art is in his usual style, and is very impressive, and he has the talents of a good writer, making this a great book to read, especially if you want to know how life in the Gaza strip is. It's got the same horror/sob stories meant for you to be able to sympathize with the plight of the refugees. This is a bit sensationalist but then again, maybe all he is doing is telling it like it is.

Just to give you a taste of his meticulously drawn art.

I like reading this stuff because it makes me feel like I am there, and since the possibility of my actually going to Gaza is pretty slim, this is the best I can do. I feel like a voyeur :)

I think it speaks to my desire to experience the world and see the myriad cultures that inhabit it. It's a crying shame that I will never get to do it. Oops there I go again, trying to turn this post into another one of my existential rants. Which is funny because I remember back in my engineering undergrad days when I would anonymously post stuff on our online message board and people would ask me why I keep turning everything into an existential soliloquy.

There is nothing more 'intelligent' that I can say about this so I will leave it at that.

don't go away, and come again another day

2010-05-28T08:26:00.003+05:30

I am still reading the essay that I am going to write a synopsis for, it is more like a novel than an essay, and add to the fact that it is a philosophical essay, means that each sentence needs to be dissected and thought about before I can move on, hence, it is not going to be done for some time at the least and this is especially so because I am back on an anime binge right now, just started watching bleach after having finished Basilisk, which I would recommend to you if are into this sort of a thing.

I am in Herndon, VA right now, at my uncle's place, and there's a thunder storm brewing here, just the perfect weather for a night out watching some good anime on a nice comfy bed under a warm duvet. But the unfortunate part is that unlike in India when such weather usually means loud thunder and the pitter patter of the rain on the roof and the whirring of the fan and the sweet sweet smell of moist soil, here it usually means a slight smell of gasoline, muffled thunder and maybe the quiet wheezing of the air conditioning. Because most American houses are so well insulated and the windows are usually so thick, you cant hear anything :(

Indian houses on the other hand are usually very well ventilated, we never keep our windows closed except in the summer when we use the AC, and the roofs are usually flat and we invariably have terraces (where we as kids often play cricket), and this is unlike here where the roofs are mostly sloping in order to accommodate the snow and rain. So, in India, such weather usually means a respite from the heat in the form of a cool, and crisp but fiery draft of wind that smells like a piece of heaven, and the noise of street dogs howling in the distance, add to this the smell of wood burning in make shift fires and you have your very own dream.

And you could attribute this view of mine to bias, but ask anybody and many will call me a self hating Indian because I criticize my country so much, but this is one aspect where I have to admit that living in India is clearly more romantic than living in the US

Here is a shot from my terrace in India:

My Terrace:

Heavy rain on a cold September morning.

And my favorite; rain clouds gather over my house.

dancing in the dark and a fugue in the fall

2010-05-27T15:00:00.004+05:30

Warning: Graphic language in this post. Also, I might sound like I am gay-bashing, but let me assure you that I totally support their cause, and that I think they should be allowed to do what they want to do. or succinctly 'not gay but supportive' - a phrase I borrow form Demetri Martin. Civil liberties must never be impinged on. And, oh yeah, while I am at it; screw the government! and fuck Apple! as well.

----------------------------------------------------

So there I was right? minding my own business, stumbling around, failing hard but failing quietly; unnoticed by anyone, well.. anyone who is a somebody at least, when all of a fucking sudden, out of the blue; bam! this person starts hitting on me.

What the fuck? I mean...wait a minute. This is surely not happening, not to me at least. I am not that guy, you know the guy that has this happen to him. Ever. I mean look at me, I can say such stuff without flinching or feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment, I am socially awkward and I look like crap.

What comes to mind when I think of 'being hit on' only, in real life; I am uglier and the woman is way shorter.

Well, if this is what it takes for me to experience female touch, right?

Typical reader's reaction to the previous comment of mine

So, here's the deal; the new sublet is basically an overgrown baby, he needs his elder brother to come and settle him in the new apartment, and this elder brother is the 'person'.

Wait. Let this sink in. So let me get this straight. The person. Who hit on me. Is. A. GUY, A MOTHERFUCKING GUY!!! OMFG this is fucking bullshit man. I mean I, like most people, like the odd bit of attention every now and then, but this is fucking ridiculous. I had consigned myself to the sidelines of everyday life, I like flying under the radar, going unnoticed is my specialty, so naturally I don't talk much to people and so the chance of being hit on is virtually nil. Now, this is fine by me, since I know that it ain't gonna happen, so I am content with my comics and my music and content being 'well known' among two or three friends, but then came along this dude like a real dude, with a dick! and he's hitting on me? This is some sort of cruel joke isn't it? and the worst part is that my gaydar is extremely under-developed which nicely segues us to the next part of my misadventure.

So, there he is showing too much interest in what I do, asking me to play the guitar for him, actually pretending to listen to my usual rapid-fire tutorial of progressive time signatures and the difference between Indian and Western musical instruments. and saying that I have a lot of hobbies pointing to the comic on my table and my skates on the ground. And I am all, 'wow, someone perceptive enough to notice all this, maybe I am finally getting the slight recognition I deserve' and that's when things got a little awkward, because right then my roomie sends me a ping on gtalk (from the next room) telling me that the dude is most probably gay and that is exactly when he comes and sits next to me; a little too close to me. So I hastily close my laptop lest he see that message and make up an excuse to leave the apartment.

My face when I realized what just happened.

With my rotten luck, I am even surprised I got worked up over this.

ustory (this one is from 2007)

2010-05-25T20:47:00.003+05:30

Currently writing a long essay for which I am reading something, until then, here is a ustory from way back in 2007, and you know what? I realize that I have a fetish for women's glasses, in this story too do I mention them. I had no idea that I liked women in glasses so much.

---------------------------------------------------

We are oft to blame...

My head hurts.

I rub my eyes with my hand, but I don't feel them.
I look around, and all I see is mud, it clears and I see grass.
Lovely green grass. Greener than I have ever seen it. I can see the individual blades of grass. Glad to be alive.

I am still alive!

What a relief it is, to know that you still have a while longer to live.
Then I remember her.

Actually, I remember her glasses. She wears the thick, black kind, remember?
They make her look more serious than she actually is.
Then again, she does look like she is 16 when she takes them off.

Where am I? Why can't I hear anything? I look and see a broken swing. I see the remains of a see-saw. I am in a ground. Why?
Then I remember, she is in trouble. I am in trouble.

The whole thing is messed up. Shit.

I must run, and find help. But what do I tell people ?
We knew what we were getting into. It didn't seem such a big deal then, then why am I so scared now.

She had asked me not to go ahead with the 'plan' when she first heard it, but she had later relented. I started hating her for changing her mind.

What time is it ? My watch is gone. My dad's Omega. He'll kill me when he finds out. IF I get out of this mess alive.

I surmise it's evening. I have to start planning my next move. Suddenly, I hear an unfamiliar voice call out my name. I turn around...

"Bang!"

=============================================

Also, this is the second story in which 'I' die at the end. Strange.

ustory (this is an old one, I think this is #3)

2010-05-21T07:02:00.006+05:30

This is a repost, wrote this story a long time ago, hopefully I will convince Slipperyreflections to make graphic adaptation for this story as well.

Here is an attempt at another ustory, I gave myself 5 minutes to think of a story and a limit of one sitting to complete writing it.

==========================================================
Semantics.

You could ask me why I haven't married her.
Well... It's because I see no difference. yeah, I don't celebrate birthdays either.

I still remember the way her body felt, while she rested beside me that day, and the look in her eyes when I brushed away a strand of her hair which covered them. It was awkward, and we knew it.

It was my first time, and the last time that I didn't have to pay for it, but strangely, it feels better now, even though it still costs me fifty bucks an hour. The first time is always awkward, so much is expected of you, and you hope you can match up to these standards but with a hooker things are different, there isn't a need for faking things, and there is none of that emotional bullshit that women use to fuck up the fun in good old 'sex', although I like to call it 'a good fuck'.

Now, I have her with me. She's been turning tricks since she was 17, or so she says, she was already in her mid 20s when I met her and had been around town if you catch my drift. She must be nearing 40 now, and I still love her like I did the day I first answered her timid knock on my apartment door. I could hardly have believed my eyes, she was not half as ugly as I had imagined her to be, and the glasses that she wore? they were a freaking travesty, they made her look like a librarian.

The first time with her was very different, she was a Jane Doe for me then, I had no obligations, and neither did she. But that wasn't to stop her, she had an enthusiasm for life I had never seen before, she wasn't sad and resigned to her fate as one would imagine a hooker would be. She made me realize that my first time, my first time ever, was a total disaster.

I became a regular, and later her only client. She is with me now, she is mine, although I still pay her for services rendered. And for my years of patronage, she repays me by hopping over whenever I call and she cooks my food for me, she washes my clothes, she loves me, but she will never say it to me, not in a million years, it is not like her, but I know and I know it for sure.

It has been years since I have seen anyone from my family, or had any friends. I don't get invited to parties or functions nor does anyone visit me. They think that I am a bad influence on them and their awesome fucking children and on this wretched society in general, well they can suck my dick and call me daddy. My neighbors make fun of us when we walk together, but she is unperturbed and I couldn't care less, she is my only contact with familiarity, and my job doesn't help me in being social with other people either, but it pays very well and so I don't complain.

I do employ the services of other 'paid companions' because I get bored sometimes, but she? She is special, I go back to her. Every time.

I can't see why people get married and subject themselves to that restriction in their choice, but I love my life and our little arrangement, and wouldn't have it any other way.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry if it sucked, I got bored towards the end and just submitted it without proofreading or improving it.

Update for ustory # (something)

2010-05-18T01:40:00.003+05:30

Here is an image macro done by surrealnoises, god bless her soul :)
here is the story that I wrote that it refers to. She's seems to have put it up on her blog as well, check it out, and thanks for visiting.

ustory # (I really don't remember what number this is)

2010-05-14T04:01:00.003+05:30

What's the time? ustory time

If you don't know what a ustory is, it is a super short story that can't be more than a few lines long and one that follows Chuck Palahniuk's guidelines about brevity.

If you haven't read it, he basically says; 'don't assume your readers are stupid,' and reveal things not be 'telling' but by 'showing' or by the act of not 'saying'

Here is one I wrote recently, as usual, it is... well, it is in my usual style ;)

----------

The pretentious and boring neighbor smells something fishy, which is funny because she is a heathen bitch that doesn't know to keep a house.

Her husband hasn't smiled at me in the ten years that we have lived next to each other.

Her kid is an obnoxious brat who jacks off on their terrace to his father's playboys.

He throws a stone at my window, expecting to hear me scream.
No reply.

The bitch asks her lazy, uninformed, and soulless husband about me, says that she hasn't seen 'the psycho loser' in a while and quips that I might be dead.

She decides to come and let me know that I should stop doing whatever I am doing because I am stinking up the place.

Too late lady, I already did.

She rings the bell. She peeps inside.

"Honey call the police" she screams to her husband across the lawn.

As her eyes fall on the ejected shell on my floor.

Too late lady, I already did.

Review - Embroideries VS Peepshow

2010-05-11T19:58:00.007+05:30

Marjane Satrapi's 'Embroideries' (2005) has a lot of good things written about it. Elle goes as far as to call it a 'Tantalizing . . . Bold, bewitchingly humorous and politically astute' in fact it is hard to find anyone who says anything negative about it.

It has about 150 pages and takes about 8 minutes to read. It depicts one lazy afternoon in her family's life in Iran where a bunch of women sit together to gossip about their sex lives, hymen reconstruction surgery, and the joys of being someone's mistress. It's a more realistic 'sex and the city' as one female blogger put it. I'd hate to break it to her but that's hardly a compliment.

What I want to talk about, is this widespread adulation for a comic that is mildly entertaining at best and annoyingly insipid at worst. Luckily before you know it, it abruptly ends.

Just because she is an Iranian muslim, and is a bit more open about slightly sensitive 'woman' topics, doesn't mean that it is a great book or that you must go overboard in your praise for it. I really liked her 'Persepolis' don't get me wrong, it was good to read about life in Iran before it went to the dogs. But seriously praise like Time's 'Embroideries is as funny, opinionated, controversial and surprising as any good comic or conversation should be' is a little too much for a story that took a few minutes to recall, and is basically her drawing rumors and gossip from her female relatives a few years back. You'd think she were the new Bukowski.

Now you want something truly funny, uninhibited, and downright outrageous (for the more normal folk out there) I would suggest Joe Matt's 'Peepshow'

Joe Matt is crazy, laying bare every minute, embarrassing detail of his life, going as far as to exaggerate it, and in the process showing the reader just how pathetic and vulgar human life is. A lazy but unique cartoonist, Matt Joe lives illegally in Canada, has impossibly high standards in women which is funny because like me, he has no tact and no talent as far as women are concerned. He is a porn addict, as serial masturbators usually are, and spends his time editing porn to remove shots of men and their 'hairy asses' from them. All of this and more find place in his 'comic diary' censorship? pride? dignity? why what is all that? words, nothing but words.

I read this comic in one sitting even with two finals the next day just because I could not get enough. If you truly want something that will make you laugh out loud, and make you angry, and hate the author, along with many other emotions, I suggest you go to your nearest comic book store and pick up the series as soon as possible.

spiral

2010-05-09T06:43:00.004+05:30

You know you are lonely when you start personifying loneliness as your mistress, next stop; schizophrenia - S. Meer

I. (1)
Me. (1)
Excuse me, (2)
while I sit (3)
alone, in a world full (5)
of people, and watch the weather change. And (8)
I let go and surrender (5)
to the spiral (3)
of my (2)
inevitable (1)
destruction. (1)

The Outsider

2010-05-01T06:23:00.004+05:30

Here is a story I wrote a long time ago.

-----------------------

The Outsider.

Monday 6th March 2009 3:40 AM

And I am prancing around, happy and delighted, there is a rainbow in the sky and the ever cheerful sunflowers are singing me a catchy little, song. As I walk across the meadow with a straw in my mouth and my best flannel jacket on, in the distance I see a figure. My eyes take a while to adjust to the distance, and then… could it be? Oh I wish it is! Have my dreams come true? Will I finally be granted the wish that I so badly desire?
As I approach nearer I realize that indeed I am correct! It is a unicorn. I skip across anxious to talk to it. As I approach I say “hello unicorn, may I please ask for a wish?”

“Why yes you may, jolly old chap” my fine horned friend replies. He is so cool and benevolent and has a prop’ah British accent, not like those uncouth pixies I just met, they were just mean!

“I wish I could gather the courage to speak my mind” I say and wait expectantly for my magical companion to reply in the affirmative.

Huh? What is this? I have a mane? I think to myself as I slide my paw through it while waiting for him to answer.

My paw?

“Tring tring” he blurts out.

Wait, what?
I open my eyes.

…and I was getting all excited, but who the hell could this be? What time is it?
I groggily sit myself up and answer the phone.

The voice on the other end of the line is that of a woman, a woman!
“Hi, Anuva!” I almost squeal, I wonder if she noticed. I am all excited, maybe she broke up with him and maybe she wants to hook up with me now, I mean… why else would she call me up like this, now?!!!

She tells me that she is sorry for waking me up at the odd hour and asks me if I have any important work in the morning.

“No, it’s alright, I was awake anyway” I lie I must say that I am a bit disappointed “Also, yes I am free in the morning tell me what do you want me to do?” I lie again.

She tells me that she is arriving at Hyderabad in about two hours and wonders if I can pick her up, her boyfriend is not free.

“Sure, I will be right there”

I know that she is using me, she would never have called me unless she wanted a favor, she’s always been like that I guess; being pretty does have its advantages. People will do anything for a good looking girl. Heck I even remember taking the fall for something she did while we were in college; almost had me suspended, luckily my grades sailed me through. I guess I had hoped that she would see that I am a nice guy and fall in love with me out of gratitude. It only goes to show that there aren’t any nice guys. And although I am seemingly helping her as a friend, I really just want to be with her for a while and can’t resist the temptation to have her sit next to me in my car. I am over the whole nice guys phase now, you could say that I’ve grown up, now, I just want to help her and get no thanks in return; you see I get off to being a martyr. It is like a drug to me; some sort of masochistic pleasure. Truth be told, had she been mine, I would probably have lost interest in her by now.

Monday 6th March 2009 5:16 AM

There she is; I can see her even from this distance. I unconsciously smile. Even if things had things gone my way; the scene would have played out pretty much the same: I would have driven out exactly the same way, the same smile on my face would have been there on my face and then I would get out to meet her, but this is where things change; she would have been different, her reaction and state of mind would have been different. I feel happy thinking about this alternate reality; I wish the wish granting unicorn were real then perhaps by magic I could have… but then I remember that things did not turn out my way and that magic is not real, heck even the unicorn in my dream didn’t grant me my wish, hastily I kill the lovesick expression evident on my face and adopt a more business like, more platonic smile. I pull over and realize that she has a lot of luggage, so I get out of the car and haul all of it in. Our pleasantries are strange; for two people who haven’t seen each in other in two years an spoken just once via email, we have surprisingly little to talk about.

She gives me a weak ‘hey’ and I smile coldly; I don’t want her to know now, do I?

“I thought you wouldn’t come” she says, “I got out 15 minutes ago.”

“Oh yeah I am sorry, I had to walk to Jim’s place to pick up my car, I was too drunk the night before to drive home”

She then gets into the car without saying anything more. I realize that I would normally have been pissed off at such inconsiderate behavior, but I am sleepy, and she is pretty.

Anuva doesn’t talk much during the trip; she is in town for the marriage. It is going to be a court marriage; she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t like the vulgar display of happiness that ordinary marriages always tend to bring along: like an unwanted guest, anyway. I know what you are thinking, she told me these exact words, alright!

The ride is great, I like driving her home, maybe she likes sitting next me too, or not. Yeah maybe not because she’s dozed off, I suppose she has had a rough day so I don’t disturb her; even though there is nothing more I want at this moment then to talk to her if only for a little bit.

It is winter and the sun won’t be up for a while, sigh! It looks like it’s still going to be dark when we reach. I take a turn at Ikea to drop her at beltsville, because that is where ‘he’ lives. She gets out and asks me to carry her bags to the front porch. He comes out, and they hug. It is bad enough that I have to leave; the darkness decides to fuck with me and further amplifies my grief.

I want to compose a poem; I feel wounded and betrayed- A profound state of mind as far as I am concerned. I resist the urge to pretend to be a poet because my poems are crappy and they never do justice to the job of accurately describing how I feel. I turn around and walk away, I don’t belong, not here at least, I am no one; an outsider. Like always.

It is protocol you know. Or so I tell myself.

Sigh! It’s going to be a long drive home it is.

Monday 6th March 2009 8:34 PM

“You’re a jackass you know?” he tells me.
“Tell me something I don’t know, man” I reply.
“Hmmm… for one; that was a rhetorical statement” he quips back.
“Funny! So was mine” ha-ha, touché I think to myself in my head before realizing that I don’t like being on the winning side. It always makes me feel guilty, so I usually say “sorry man”, I was just kidding and saying that makes me feel a whole lot better, but I am not going to apologize today, I let it slide, and let the guilt remain. I need a smoke.
You know what I mean man, don’t play dumb alright, he continues, he is right, I am kidding myself. I don’t listen to anyone. Not even myself.
“So why do you keep doing this?” Jim pipes in.
“Yeah man, she is an ungrateful bitch, but she is freaking hot I have to give you that” says Jeremy.
I don’t know why, if I knew, I would have tried to change…
Maybe… okay, that’s not true, I am lying to myself again; but no one can stop me from saying so.

“let me get this straight; you woke up at 3… in the morning… to go pick her up from the airport 20 miles away, on the night before your interview even though she could have easily caught a cab, even though her boyfriend lives in town, even though you know that she will never know?” he adds.
“Hey man! She is afraid of traveling alone in cabs and her boyfriend is sick” I reply, while muttering “with the cold” under my breath. I don’t want my best friends to kick my scrawny little butt now do I?

I pause my thinking while I take a swig of my cheap beer-beer that they have served in a pitcher, watered down beer that tastes more like nail filings in acetone, or something like that, it is at this precise moment; when this horrendous simile comes to my mind that I feel relieved about the fact that they haven’t asked me about my interview, maybe my stupidity has stolen the spotlight.
I heave a sigh of relief.

“Okay, enough about her and your stupidity pray tell us how your interview went” says Jeremy.
Fucking Jeremy!
Bastard is as sharp as a needle. Lodged in your eye and I am not talking about one of those on your face.
“Oh that! Forget it; I didn’t get the job man”
“Why? You were perfect for it, and you have the qualifications”
“Er…I don’t know, they were looking for someone else, does anyone want a shot? Jim?”
“We’ll all get a round of shots later but tell me, you didn’t go did you?”
“No I didn’t, I… er… slept through my appointment.” I admit. Surprisingly no one says anything; they know that it is now time to stop pushing me around.

As my high school teachers used to say, there was ‘pin drop’ silence at our table... No one’s saying anything at all.

‘You know that you are to blame for all of this right?” says Jeremy finally, he is right; as usual. I don’t argue with him. It is clear that he is right. Jim and Jeremy both know the story well. They have been my friends since as long as I can remember.

I am pretty drunk by now. Someone orders shots of snakebite. No, it was me who ordered the shots. Nghh what the hell! I might as well drink to dull my senses. This is going to be a long night.

Monday 6th March 2009 10:23 PM

Drunk as a skunk, I am now set, to prove to everyone around me, that I am indeed under the influence by reciting aloud a poem I have chosen to compose extempore. I am not a loud boisterous drunk like many others but today is different. I somehow forget who I am and stand up, remove my glasses and clink my third shot of the night using my glasses as I cannot find any metal object nearby and call everyone’s attention to our table.

“What can we do?
We are but human;
bound to our fates.
Our lives a series of mistakes;
we learn from them and prepare
for a second chance;
that will never come”

Oh no, what have I done, what have I done, I have made a fool of myself. I can hear chuckles and disapproving sighs. At least they are all strangers; I don’t know any of them. It’s cool. I will be the topic of water hole conversations at different offices across the city tomorrow, but I will be nameless.

“Whoa there Shakespeare!” says a voice and I suddenly feel like I am in that dream archetype where you are naked in a room full of giggling strangers pointing at your wiener.

“So what are you guys talking about?” she asks while pulling up a chair for herself.
“We were speaking about this girl he knows… I mean likes” said Jeremy.
I am going to kill the cocksucker one of these days.
“Really? I thought that you were asexual”

“No, don’t listen to him, he is like a monkey, he likes to pull stuff out his ass and fling it at people” I say, desperately hoping to brush it off as a joke.

“Haha he is just upset because he doesn’t have the balls to tell her this” says Jeremy; the Scorpio in him won’t rest until he exacts his revenge.

“You are such a fucking pussy” says Anuva, as she drinks a shot lying around on the table. To top it off, he’s tagged along. What the fuck is he doing here? We don’t even know the douchebag.

“Yeah man, you gotta grow a pair you know, Oh by the way, still jobless huh?” He says.

I want to kick him. I really do. I want to tell him to mind his own business.
I want to tell him to lay his hands off her. I want to whisk her away to some place far away, and protect her from the monsters that roam in this world. I will say none of that, because that is not the way I am wired, I wish I wasn’t, I really do want to give in to my reckless dark desires, but maybe I am afraid of the consequences. Yep, that is me alright, a big fucking square.

So, Instead I smile at him and nod. I catch a glimpse of Jeremy looking at me with a raised eyebrow and his lips pursed.

“When’s the marriage happening?” asks Jim.

“Oh we were thinking this Thursday; we don’t really care about the right date or anything, I would have invited you guys but it’s a court marriage and we were thinking of just calling the witnesses but if we do go in for a small ceremony at the temple, I will make it a point to call you guys” he replies.

Monday 6th March 2009 11:53 PM

The ridicule is getting to me, I want to lash out- lash out at all of them; for not understanding me- Jim and Jeremy for not understanding how much it hurts, and Anuva for not understanding me at all, and her fiancé for being a total douche. And all I wanted to do was have a quite evening drinking with my friends.

It’s taken me a while to accept the fact that I no longer have a chance, why did they have to remind me again? I want them to shut up. SHUT UP!!!

“So tell me more about this girl, do I know her?” Anuva prods for the tenth time in half as many minutes. No one is giving me a break. I feel like a lamb dining amongst wolves.

“No, seriously there is no one”

“Ha-ha, man, we all know that you don’t know how to lie, you suicidal imbecile!” says Jeremy and I am beginning to think that I should stop hanging out with him.

“Okay, at least tell me what your problem is? Why don’t you just go tell her” She tells me.

“Because that would just not be me” I state emphatically, while Jeremy and Jim start laughing their heads off and say that I am making excuses and that I ought to be kicked.

“Is she friendly with you? In the sense do you know her personally?” she asks me.

“You could say yes”

“Okay, so imagine that you go up to her, now tell me what you want to say to her” she asks.

“You really want to know?” I ask, I then hold her hand and say “let’s assume that you are the girl, then this is what I would want to say to her”

And then I launch into this:

“darling,
how can I explain to you
how much you mean to me?
if the whole world were to turn against you
and claim that you were evil,
I would stand up proud and secure
and proclaim
while the hair on my back and hands and neck stood on its ends
that you are the only thing
in the world that keeps me going
and that I would gladly take any punishment and sadness that the entire world might wish upon you
and hope that it is inflicted instead
upon me
I mean it
and even if
it kills me
and I am at the throes of death
and I feel remorse at the fact that I am
going to die and never feel an emotion again,
I will still feel no hate toward you, because
I love you and only you
and I shall forever be indebted to you
for the way you make me feel” I drunkenly blurt out.

“Yikes, that is a bit morbid and disturbing isn’t it? That would scare away almost every kind of woman there is. Dude you are obsessed, it’s not healthy, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘would you come out for a cup of coffee’ or something to that effect”

The mood on the table has soured, they don’t know what to think of my rant and the whole situation, and the funny part is that I agreed to be one of the witnesses for her marriage, I wonder if they will want to reconsider that one. I am pissed off at all of them now, I did not want that to come out, but I did, if only to shut them up. This should show them.

“I know, and that is why I don’t want to say anything to her, it’s hopeless, there is no point in trying” I say getting angrier and angrier every second “and this was precisely why I did not want you guys to pursue that subject so are you happy now?”

The bar is closing for the night, they want us out. Anuva gets up with him to go, she tells me that I need not come; he has found someone else to come as the witness. They walk off.

“Surreal!” says Jim.

“That was you yankin ‘em right?” says Jeremy.

Right! This is why I hang out with this fucker. He gets me. We order and receive a last round of shots, Jack the bartender knows us. We are like family, he sees us everyday. Maybe I should quit drinking.

Yep.

Thank You and I Fare thee well

2010-03-23T23:18:00.013+05:30

I have been saying farewell to a lot of friends lately, I am getting more and more disillusioned with myself and life in general. The hardest thing I ever did was say farewell to this particular friend, whom we shall call II, a few weeks ago. II shattered my life and all she needed was a single minute, because sometimes a minute is all you need to know, right? Anyway I still feel like a fucking teenager and I am going to be twenty fucking seven years old in July, can you believe that shit? Half my fucking life over and nothing to show for it.

Now, coming to the main point of this post, I have been thinking about life more deeply in the recent past than usual, I have been re-evaluating my goals and my views, and among other things, I have come to the conclusion that Karbage has to go. It has no use anymore, and with the deteriorating quality of my posts after moving here to the US, I feel that I am just wasting your time talking about how I am depressed and laying out in detail the inner battles that I am fighting. This is not why most of you came here in the first place, right?

I just got a new follower; my eighth; someone from Russia, I wonder what is it with me and Russia, I never seem to be far from it, for example even II was Russian, well actually Ukrainian but they are the same right? and it took me a whole 4 years to get eight followers, this goes to show how great I write.

I would like to take the time to thank the following people who visited my blog over the past few years and gave me the motivation to continue this far:

1) Divya - My ex for being there when I needed her, and for taking the time to understand me. No one has ever done that and for that I shall always remain thankful to her.

2) Varun - My best friend who is like my brother, who had some freaking hilarious things to comment once in a while. I know this fucker from seventh grade all the way back in Saudi Arabia.

3) Ritesh - My colleague from TCS who always left me comments when he liked something, thanks man, you should call me some time soon.

3a) Ravi - Another great colleague of mine form TCS, a great guy, and someone who has helped me out a lot, I wish you best of luck, and maybe we should chat, it's been long huh?

4) Ashwin - A junior of mine from KREC, a smart guy that kept me from writing bullshit ;) thanks man

5) Violetcrush - I don't know her real name, but she is a big name in the blogging world, you should check her blog out. She doesn't come here anymore, but thanks to her as well.

6) Sunil - My best friend another who is like my /b/rother who knows me as well as anyone, who has stopped blogging a long time back, and stopped coming here even earlier than that, the fucker is getting married soon, I wish him the best of luck. Again a fellow KRECian.

7) Sajith - Another close friend who is like a brother to me, my co-conspirator in KREC Who visits sometimes(like once a year lol)

8) Sandeep, who, until just now, I did not know, was this particular hit I always got :)

9) All my followers - Natali, ToXiC_RaGe, Pave, djds4rce, Dana Hartnett and others although most of them have never commented here and in fact don't even visit here anymore. I am Sorry I'm quitting guys.

10) And the random people who commented occasionally and kept my motivation going.

So, this is it, the last time I will be writing with you; my audience, in mind, I won't be deleting this blog it has way too many memories attached with it- memories I hope to read when I am old, and when I am even more acutely aware of the fact that every day is just a day closer to the end, just to remember what it felt like to be young and blinded by hope and at a time when I am yet to make the fatal mistakes that I am about to make and maybe I will feel a tinge of regret at not having done some things that I should have. This reminds me of an aphorism I had written a long time back that made II comment on my blog for the first time. It went:

" A wasted opportunity is the saddest thing in the world"

Anyway, enough of my pointless drivel, but I will not be deleting this blog; instead I will be making it into a personal vlog/blog, where I can let my emotions run free without the hassle of knowing that I am wasting someone's time, so I suggest that you unfollow me or stop coming here, because you will only find ~~Karbage~~ garbage here from now on.

Most of you don't know that I have another blog where I write emo crapetry oops... I mean poetry and other pointless shit, well that is going to go, and I will shift some of its content over to this blog, which basically means it is gonna read like the diary of a 16 year old, wrist cutting, Fall Out Boy listening, angsty, and probably anorexic, female. And you don't want that. Trust me.

So, in order to shorten this whole post into a single word, and betray my old friend Mister Logorrhoea with seven swift strokes on my keyboard: Goodbye

And as a parting gift, here is 'Good Riddance' by Greenday, a fitting song for this occasion, I made many mistakes while singing it, and excuse my whiny little voice, I was born with it, I had no control over it you see, also sorry for my funny accent, living in 3 different countries your whole life fucks with it. The acoustic is not my instrument, so sorry for that. And sorry I suck at singing, I always was, but this is me.

Thanks guys :) it was kick ass while it lasted and was a large part of my life but all good things must come to an end right?. And so, with a heavy heart, I shall end with this:

Gone - flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart.
~Alfred Tennyson

ii

2010-03-23T10:36:00.001+05:30

happy birthday :)
though you will never read this.