Meme

Joblessness in its entireity.
Screw me for wrong spelling.
(and i will give you the blackest eye (sic.) if you said that was my only chance at action.)

I have an idea. It's a meme thing that circulated when I first blogged.

So, gunds, tell me a hundred things about yourself.
Ten at a time. Just to make things easier.
Come to think of it, in your case, harder.

*ducks flying textbooks*

Necessary Vocabulary,(alt.ly, what insomnia does to people)

NARCISSISM - L.Narcissus Gk.Narkissos a youth in Gk. mythology who fell in love with his own reflection in water and pined away.

Self love, extreme vanity.

GUNDI - Any rodent of the family Ctenodactylidae, the members of which resemble guinea-pigs.(Now that is coincidence!)

And talking of pigs,

SWINE - An animal of the pig kind; an adult pig. A lascivious or coarse person!

Okay that should suffice for now.

*sheepish*

i posted something nasty,
and deleted it.

she's so moody.
that's what's wrong with her.

stupid no?

Listen now,

There is absolute Shh.
Pinkpug has brought about Shh.
Craziness has brought about Shh.
(on social networking places)

What is wrong with her?

Shh..

On other questions that remain unanswered,

there are so many people who talk, who like their secrets shared.
and there are those who listen, who like secrets being shared with them.

these are vessels you pour into, endlessly,
that you can never draw out of.

i pity this race of listeners, their secrets unheard -
only because they don't know what to tell,
or how to.

...and

Miss Thrush

(the crows will sing in your honour)

All those you mentioned and,

Soliloquies
Monologues
Firefly
Awkwardnesses
Silences
Awkward silences

shall happen off too.

deyuw mistuw amphitheatuw -

rodents will scurry in your premise.

the little sojourn will be inclusive of

two portraits,
more pictures,
of even you, sir.

maybe a few lyrics,
poems, ballads,
stories too.

wotchaaut!

=)

Lines that fail and flail

Hi Thrush,

Chestnut first. Big big one.
They say the true worth of people you like is known only when you stay away from them.
That it is also a sort of reality check for people, as to where they stand.
And how firm do they stand where they are standing.
They say, look upon evening as if the day were meant to die and upon morning as if everything were being born again. The ones that stay with you through the death of the day and the dawn of the next are perhaps who you cherish most, whose physical existence you miss most.

Laughter around you seems, contrived.
A nice line formed in your head dies orphaned.
You wait for the phone display to light up and tell you stories.
Every few minutes.
You start wishing every insipid meal you had were a Cake Fudge in Corner House.
And you know, that 120 hours is a long time.
120 hours away is longer time. Much longer.

Missed you.
Hope you have been good.

Best,
Me.

04:41

hello bandicoot.

i decided to pass you some advice, iterate a few murphisms, and say a couple prayers.
here:

1. may you never have a cold bad enough that it will not let you sleep.
2. never, ever, hell ever, undermine monkey-cap power. if possible, worship it as frequently as you can.
3. miss the lemon when it's missing.
4. miss the tea leaves even more.
5. if monkey-cap goes missing, use sweatshirt sleeves to cover ears.
6. when watchman comes by for last beat, make sure you're not unlocking gate then.
7. jubiliate when you find half lemon and one last teabag.
8. may you never dream of lizards doing synchro-skittling across wall.
9. sulemani chai must have lots of sugar, and must NOT go cold.
10. vicks is man's best friend. not some naayi.
11. in fact, these naayi creatures have scuffles just when you're about to sleep.
12. you will sleep only at daytime, when you have a potential social life.
13. you will make a list of must-dos and must-buys, and leave it godknowswhere.

14. never underestimate stupidity.
15. particularly your own.

*falls asleep on keyboard*

- Thomas Hardy

Gundappa,

I can be sooo irrelevant.

Since I have nothing else to do, I will bore you, when you come here seeking entertainment.
Here, updating you on my life:

I'm squandering precious little free time, just the way I like.

I hate it when free time comes restricted. Limited. It comes with bloody boundaries.
Then just why the fuck is it called free time? Must be one of those nomenclature inadequacy things.

I'm somewhat hungry, and on ravaging the kitchen, I found yumness in the form of MTR Khara Boondi. Must eat, you. And someday, we will go to MTR and mukkofy from the moNakai.
Of course, this someday is a pipedream, just like movie (and something else, I forget).

So, I'm thinking of making stir fry veggies.
I can't believe that I'm thinking of making my own meal. Inclusive of nourishment. This is no pull-packet-from-fancy-wooden-cupboard-and-two-intercuts-later-fancy-bowl-of-noodles-ready thing. It involves hazarding my grandmother's precious woks (okay, banDali. sue me.) and a few gaalis from her also.

But I like cooking.
I like how the mustard seeds sizzle, and how onions turn golden-brown, and sugar caramelizes on veggies, making them all sheeny.

I like how it involves sharing something simple with people. I like how it makes a nice seasoning to dreams. Dreams of the quality of owning a self-sufficient duplex, far away, facing a quiet, white beach; made of wood, many french-windows, and light curtains. Remember the opening credits of Cinema Paradiso? Just take off the table, the funny pot-thing, the centerpiece with the fruits, the telephone, the people. The suniness is just right. The indoors feel welcoming.

I promise, there won't be lentil soup, or Kulhads. Make do with the steel plates, (which you will wash and put away yourself) and tumblers clearly not belonging to the same set. Loka's tumbler will not be touched, mind you.

And, I make super gooey-brownies (see, this lack-of-modesty business comes from you) and you can contribute with the vanilla (or better, chocolate) and the whipped cream, considering you still owe me the treat (eight events, just what the fuck was that?)

No, your treat will not be just an addendum to something impossible, and in my head.

Okay, I'm going to make stir fry vegetables. You can knock yourself out with your lumpless ready-to-eat soup. (I'm throwing at you a *purist jeer*)

I can be sooo irrelevant.
No?

Fine, I'll bugger off. Don't hate me.

Luff you,
Puttamma.

PS: I don't want cake fudge
PPS: I want not-so-sweet Gulab Jamun. Nisarga. or Kaju Katlis. *faint*

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Well.

Sapped strength,
exhaustion.

Shying the limelight,
shading the face,
running.

Tiring.

Tiring.

Anger

Why
Just why?

just thought i'd make a couple smiles here,
all the way up to the eyes.

=)
*love*

Idu

Idu
has long brown straight hair
light, freckled skin.

Sharp wit
Sharper tongue
Warm hug
Warmer countenance.

Idu
wins every speaking competition.
Idu
reproduces every note that
comes out the lush mango tree
and
laughs a laugh that breaks into a thousand pieces.
That,
is the beginning of fairies.

Adu

will have curly hair
dimples
and bright eyes.

deft fingers,
better toes,

raking up little bits of wet sand when they run
along a seashore
scarcely missing a shell
that i drew,
withdrew,
with my fingertip.


Idu?

Apple Crumbling.

=)
fireflies don't soar.

----

ek dastaan purani,
tanhayee ki zubaani,
har zakhm khil raha hain,
kuch mujh se keh rahaan hain,

chubte kaatein yaadon ke
daaman se
chunta hoon,
girti deewaron ke
aanchal mein
zinda hoon.

bas yeh meri kahaani.

and you call *me* whiny?

Warning : This is cornball.

Come on baby, we'll light our fire.
Where thoughts wont be swamped in a mire.
To firefly, we will give blood and lire.
Give it wings and make it soar higher.

Much love,
R.N.R.G.S

pfft.

firefly doused.
pffft sound came.

ja-rring?

i'm surprised it even figured on your playlist, in the first place.
=D

you and S are weird sibs.

CoB and Lata on same playlist.


i envy singer jaat.
i told you no?

loww,
loww.

Kabootar ja ja..

moo,

of all the songs random play could pick out for me listening, it picks this one.

Like, dove song.

Much love,
Dovw.

Confucius also says,

I agree.

(Come come now, i am sure he said that once. Read in quotes book ya)

confoooshyus ses:

anstiness is a choice.
as is pain.

as is i-couldn't-give-a-fuck.

Grr.

you're tiggur.
not tiger.

have you ever tried tiger biscuit with nescafe coffee or tea with milk?
y-hum!

Eyy.

I am the tiger.

Go.

grr.

Dubaara: Balloonisms and Inflation

jumping topics is not done.
it could do with a better burial,
along the lines of
"none of your business".


you just know her no?
how does it matter if she deletes aaf?
stupitt feller takes the world on his head.

One Tight Slap. (Dubaara mat poochna)

*One tight slap*

There is a girl i know.
She deletes scraps.
Not the scrap that needs discarding.
Scraps that demand preserving.

Hence, i give her-

*One tight slap*

Tight Slap

Maybe an overdose of each other?
Maybe something up on another end?


Pah. Infuriating, this tight lipidness.

Sticky things needn't know.
It's okay, then.

The Tight Lipped One

Idiosyncrasy plays havoc,
what then of idiosyncrasies.
Eccentricity irritates,
what then of eccentricities.

I throw hands up.
Only to close mouth.

What do they say,
This too shall pass.

Re: The Full Lipped One

why?
all be well?

anger pent up,
ill spent?


here's asserting one's right to know.

and,
*warm hug*

smile.

The Full Lipped One.

She sulks.
She coldshoulders.
She stares.
She sleeps; in cogwheel breaks.
She irks and exasperates.
but she mostly sniggers.

Tigers, like we agreed upon, are territorial.
At times, very crankily so.

Pfft.
She disappoints,
The full lipped one.

(territorial)
tiggers are wunnerful things,
they're
bouncy-wouncy-floucy-pouncy,
fun-fun-fun-fun-fun.

i want to watch pooh bear.


*surprise* is losing relevence ya.
when tweet for multiple winnisms?

stupitt!

btw, hullo to FL. inci, where is she?

Pfft.

dr. gunds,

greetings.

still not answer koshun,
faalings in the lowwe, our mad medico =D


*giggles*
so aww!

i went ya,
chinnuputts.

(ps: kindly take off refs to old monikers. the point is to start over.)

Profound kakka yo.

You are a

Bitch

Cow

Vixen

I am sure you even like Richard Nixon.
Four existing realities.

And,
Eyy, go ya.
Go, go.

The First Note - Note the First Note

deeyuwest bandicoot,

shh, it is.

ornithology
will better a doc's chances
with all of them chicks.

and,
i'm a Thrush. not a Finch.

feni-meni luffs,
bitchcowvixen


psst, i heard that rodents were falling in loves and all?
what minns?

Noted, but whats The First?

Miss Finch,

The idea seems swell, oh well.
Little notes to each other.
Our combined little black book. Shhh.

Much love,
Weltschmerz.

Note(,) The First

mistuw wellsschmuwtss,

the second surprise.
(the Idea)

tiny yellow notes, near indestructible,
for keepsake.

much loves,
birdie.