Nothing Doing

Hehehhehehehe. No, seriously... Heheheehhehehe... :D

Some post you can expect this to be, since I am partly high and partly low. That has no physical implications though. I won't like myself splinched (is that a word?) between heaven and hell. Tis gonna be either hell, or heaven for me. Nothing in between, and since I haven't been any good lately, I am counting on heaven. Being good gets you sent to heaven, where angels come dressed up in white, thinking that they are some Simi Garewal clones, playing harps without any good knowledge of scales. You don't have grass in heaven either, I've heard...

Only this other day, Jeremy came down from hell, where incidentally he had spoken in class. He was telling me of the days he had to spend in heaven, because of some good thing he had done while on his time back in the mortal world. He had given up booze for 15 fuckin' days. He was not miserable, but was quite sober, and thus capable and probable to do good.

Meanwhile, does "probable" means that you can probe that chap/thing? If it is a chap, does it mean that aliens would consider him before the normal roadside dude for insertng the proverbial anal probe? Is being "probable" a nice thing? Does getting an anal probation qualify you for entrance into the heaven that is Hell? Aren't there too many questions? Isn't this getting taxing on your mind to try and comprehend what I mean? Isn't it tough?

Stop. Let it go. Let yourself go. Cut the strings. Tear away the sack you've been put into, and dispel the make-believe that lies around. Life's quite green, except that it is quite yellow on the days when you've had a bit too much to drink, and quite blue on some days, when I sit on my ass and think about the stuff that I could have done, the girl I could have got, the man I could be.

That doesn't take away the man that I am away from me. Sure as hell, I'd like to make some changes, but who frikkin' doesn't want to?

Perfection is an illusion. A mirage that draws an unsuspecting idiot towards itself, and then making him believe that even if the mirage dispelled, it made him crawl that bit closer to the actual perfection. I revel in the beauty of the concept of mediocrity, the whole idea of equality of mental states. We are no electrons. We can all be the same, occupy the same fuckin' energy levels, the same spin states, the same quantum numbers, and be fuckin' happy about it. You know why? Coz we got booze and grass.

I see a huge Space Truck hovering beside my window. Gotta go. Don't want to miss the party at the edge of the Milky Way today. Heard that they got some nice boomshine, if you know what I mean...

Well and truly fucked

I was raped left, right, top, bottom, north, south, east, west, south-east, south-west, north-east today.

North-west is missing, but that's where the tiny ray of hope comes from, so I think I won't consider that a raping direction.

Vector rape.
Nice idea. Or most probably some sadistic professor's telepathic message I received while I was writing the paper.

Are you happy now, Mr Professor?

Keep professing your ugly opinions, your sadistic doctrines. Keep laughing at Pink Floyd. Go and tell them that us kids do need some education. Tell them the way you plan to educate us. But tell them superficially, so that they might as well give a fuck to whatever you are teaching them.

On a more general note, don't ever try to generate even the smallest amount of interest in your audience, otherwise they might think good of you. That will not suit your masochistic self, would it?

Keep skimming the surface. Teach the kid how to swim in a bathtub, then take him to the middle of the Pacific, and push him in. Better still, do this to your own kid. And tell them, that all the kids in this world mean the same to you. They were all thrown in here the same way, weren't they? So what if he's missing a leg. That would make him struggle. That will teach him how to overcome his weakness. He doesn't need a wheelchair.

No student needs guidance. All he needs is a textbook, and then he can do it all himself. Give him the textbook. Go ahead. Give him more. And more...

One day, he'll trade them all for a gun and shoot himself in the head, leaving you wondering where you went wrong.

And mark this, you won't know it.

Start Something

I have been idling. Engine started, in a neutral gear, raring to go forward. I was at the center of that circle mentioned previously, but some mysterious force has put me back into the circle. Anyway, this blog has seen a bit too much of "I need to change" and "I will do this and that" things lately, so here's something I don't do much often.

I quote here a literary genius, who created a whole new world, complete with its own history, its own language, and its own numerous heroes; for a beautiful story he wanted to tell.


Ash nazg durbatulûk,
ash nazg gimbatul,
ash nazg thrakatulûk
agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.


One Ring to rule them all,
One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all
and in the Darkness bind them.

Here's to the mighty genius of JRR Tolkien. The glory of Middle Earth never fades, and I never fail to be enchanted and enthralled by the mystic piece of work the is The Lord of the Rings.