My mummy blushes easily. And it's great fun.

So I tease her with spanish cursing and talking like A would think was cool! *winks*

But sometimes... just those few moments she gets me back. Bet she blushes herself but I'm stopped mid sentence.

Here's a true jewel of our conversations:

me: Karma always comes to bite you in the arse...
mum: Only if you let it all hang out.


Think of that - metal through your skin, tattoo on your skin, boy toys, dolls... only if you let it all hang out.

2:16 am

what the hell am i doing bloggin? saving my sanity... U2 playing. how many songs for New York. Yes I know you write one too.

I shall kneel on pavement and stare at the square bit of sky between buildings. I shall shuffle past birds and people... And I shall hum my own tune for you.

But for now - I shall go home. I shall meet family before I leave yet again... Before I leave yet again.

When there is a horizon to get to... Witch Oil Water, Dust Fired Earth all drawn up measured against skyline... Travels never ending.

I travels never ending.

Bead anklet and silver celtic toe ring... Jeans. Passport. Train.

But before I am old I shall taste your life liquid lust - New York, what I want you to be in my mind. Will you dissappoint me? Or will my hopes be etched on every bit of your face...

And so we leave. Hyphens removed when people refer to us. Saddened yet not devastated. All in all - in good shape and living as much as we have before.

You still eat disgusting healthy food in the mornings I still work at night. And hey – that’s why we worked well together. That why we still do as friends. Grinning gargoyles and summer bat watching… Come our 40 + 40 birthday I do hope we still will lake walk and you’ll still tell me moles do not turn into seagulls. I will still believe it. And you know I will too.

Chapter closed.

Chin up – we’ve a masters to finish!

Vernon God Little:

If he had died. So would all my belief and faith.

Frog on face and my precioussssssssss snake. Love for forest and creepy crawlies:

Walking on the moon. Giant steps we take, happy and carefree... thats how love should be.

In the grime of the world - walking like two bouncy helium baloons.

In the mire that has been the past. In the moments when I turn jaded cool again.

Remind me - daisies in your hair... daisies in your hair... daisies in you hair and your squinting eyes. Head in my lap.

Giant steps as we float along. As we float along...

Maybe it is tough or maybe I am a hysterical overly complicater.

Maybe I won't know till things always get beyond me... But you'll be there to tell me that I should tell you before it gets to that stage. Sage.

You need to tell me once in a way. No, not even show and tell. Just tell.


I'm yours. Like a bar of chocolate that needn't be shared. Like that huge piece of wood you're waiting to carve - and yes sweetheart, summer's here.

Daisies in your hair and I'm wearing no underwear! (hee)

"To all of you who have figured this out the hard way...

I love it when I am doing the exact opposite of what you want me to. It makes my day. Like the 3 year old obstinate faced tot who could not stand the thought of going near tomatoes.


Yes it has given me a really stubborn streak. I love it - makes it easier to be determined. A how will that not happen if I want it to.

The only the time I lost that war was long back in adolescence when I wanted it all and ofcourse adolescent love is ephemeral.


Turn that on its head - I now love to make you suffer. I love to watch your dreams of forever crumble. I feel like I have done you a favour - look this is what we live in. So get with it.


Forevers are in that second when you are happy, no, they do not last. So move on and shift up.

Of course we can still be friends.

Also it has to do with all this pretentious ownership. All this 'she is mine to be wife and mum of my kids' deal.
NOT.

I am here to dance, enjoy a while and leave to a better place. And no there isn't room for two. You're not allowed to come with me, your reasons dont pass the grade.

You want to come where ever I will be because not that it will be paradise on earth, not beacause you might make the best friends in your life, you want to tag along. And that makes you disqualified. Like in a running race in school. Simple.

Travel to where I am when you want to smell the ocean. When my daily schedule is not your basis for an itenary.

When we happen to meet only because we enjoy the same hangouts. Please spare me the it will be fun together. No it wont.

I will want to party till morning dancing with anyone willing to keep up. I will then want to drive for miles only to return safe. I will want to maybe stay indoors on a glorious weather day... All this without feeling like I have to make you feel at ease or stick to your plans.

Am I being unreasonable? Yes ofcourse. I'd much rarther be a painful teenager about this than take you along only to make it a boring for you and a horror for me to have you along but bored.


I am unreasonable. I am selfish and cruel. I am not content and the trouble really is - I don't want to be. A friend scared me by just saying she was. It's an epidemic of growing up. I refuse to catch it.


Maybe I am getting lost in words and should stop. Clarity is of the essence here.


I am free."

yes I almost cried while we typed out our love... intense and lost.

yes you knew I could never say this in person.

Happiness named - you are mine.


Mr Brightside


I'm coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking a drag
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his-chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

And I just can't look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into deceit
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'Cause I'm Mr Brightside

I'm coming out of my cage
And I've been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss
Now I'm falling asleep
And she's calling a cab
While he's having a smoke
And she's taking a drag
Now they're going to bed
And my stomach is sick
And it's all in my head
But she's touching his-chest
Now, he takes off her dress
Now, letting me go

Cause I just can't look its killing me
And taking control
Jealousy, turning saints into deceit
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
'Cause I'm Mr Brightside

I never...
I never...
I never...
I never...


*weak smiles and thoughts of love true. but did you know it was?*

"come on in...
I've got to tell you what a state I'm in..."

Another series of self-perpetuated crimes. Another set of nameless homeless faces rubbed out. Charcoal smudges left behind. Coarse and uncouth. Marring white paper clean lives we lead. Hypocrites in glass cases.

Our buildings didn't get burnt, our children haven't stopped playing on the PSP. But our children are depraved and less living than those who left. Their smiles in a international magazine - proclaiming us the friendliest people on the planet.

Our hearts are cold and calculated. Theirs love filled and emotional... Yet they epitomise survival, we shrug and crawl into the company cocoon. Dabba wallahs... How you adore them - they made your book sell, they made your economic theories live, they made your lunch hour complete... They were once your tool now left in the shed waiting to fall apart.

Each city has a lifeline, while on other floating pieces of land that might be a steel giant or an industrial conveyer belt - ours is one of the oldest and most manipulated resource - you and me. or may be not exactly.

Those auto drivers, those street hawkers are the living face of the stream that lives behind the huge facades, the army that makes impressive buildings on power with those machine built. The same that climbs rickety bamboo and jute rope to paint your i-pod billboard.

And yes in some ways we cant live the way we do without them. The cobbler that fixes your soul when you need to work the entire day on a broken one... The boy who carried your heavy vegetables up 4 floors in your flat. The old lady who counts out the money in a "general store". Gives you two candies when she runs out of the equivalent change.

Such is my home and its loving faces are not the bastard who stole your job because his dad is clothed in white and can belt out convincing promises he doesn't keep. The love is not your posh friends who you drink with in expensive bars when you have the money only to be considered an outsider should you need help at home. The lover is not the boy who pays the bill.

It is the beach with it's children, with the old women fortune tellers, with "chat" that is made to order. It is when you are a regular customer and with a spending power of a dollar (why did i not put it in my currency?) a week.

My watchman knows my moods better than my family... and a chat with a random seat-sharer on the bus can brighten my day. People still talk to each other where I come from... Don't you miss that. This post isn't doing justice, but then neither is the world.

Such is homesickness.

I never thought of myself as the typical desi - go figure... But here I sit in grey morning. Searched and found - google gods are smiling. My searches finished and now I listen to songs I used to be forced into tolerating at Uni back home. FORCED - all those regional no story movie lines and songs I cud never see myself singing. Now *smiles* I avidly keep up "yennuka ur girlfirend venumma da!" (i want a girlfriend man!)

My younger cooler brother still on mother soil would shudder in this utter un-coolness.

Sigh - as you age you miss your youth they say *winks*

To all the only girls dance fests outside the canteen (yes you chennai loafers can still keep drooling outside the gates manned by Our favourite guard. Smile at him to get out, but them boys could never follow us in) - My Salaams.

All you classmates, batchmates, alumni - check out - smashits.com

Also / Tambien / Aur all you FOB (lingo you learn - fresh off the boat!) people.



So - Boom Boom in Adnan Sami's lovely style... Shake it for me.

Doctor I think the bee stung my lung.

Exactly how could a bee sting your lung?

Well it was buzzin about my head and I inhaled it quite suddenly.


*this one just popped out here - pliss to echkiuse*

"it's all mixed up..."

So they sang. I sat looking at beach, half dried my new bikini. Smelling of the half finished joint in my fingers.

My last careless holiday. No boyfriend no emotional ties... people like me. float away in guitar strains...

just a single line

"she said leave it to me...
everything will be alright..."

And I said to my lover then - leave it to me and it'll be alright. Across oceans while he kissed her ... in reply?

here is the link:

My forever memory of Gokarna

and yes it's alright.

News: This blog has been bought out by Gargoyle Grins ! However due to aptness of fit this blog will still be written under it's present name. I am sad to inform you that the equal partner of this project has seemingly gotten bored of it already.

*This might be because his works are more of the natural media kind - check Auguste Rodin and Henry Moore for what this creative boy has up his sleeve yet to be unleashed on common folk like us. His are more than what you see on the websites*

I hugged a Henry Moore... *smiles* This one infact:

(will post pic - tryin damn hard to find it - worsht situ i'll get one this weekend when i'm bound to eat at the Sainsbury Centre... such a lazy cook!)

For S:

"Now the SLOTH is both unhurried
And affects a fearful frown.
This is not because he's worried
But because he's upside down.

If passer-by inverts him,
It is patent, in a while,
That the strange position hurts him,
For the Sloth begins to smile."

*such genius - Alphabeasts*

*if only Quentin Blake would settle down with me and draw my children things to dream about*

In avid search of image files. phooey.

Gone!