Someone once told me to have courage to face the mundane, and all my gods have merged into the mundane, I can't see a boundary, so this begs writing. I know this seems a tad.. presumptuous, but here we go ..

Others link links and link blogs and all that jazz..
I simply (with the help of some friends.. shall talk about it 1 day) use the old, tried and tested, friendly and 100 percent durable, reward exchange program..
It's simple.
Links don't matter, if they don't matter to you .


a keyboardish musical treat











I: Helloz ..
god: Hello hello .. w'sup !
I: Like, do you always do that ? Raise your hand in the morning to make the sun rise ?
god: Ya. Its a habit and I'm not sure what would happen if I didn't but why risk it ?
I: Try ! ('i wonder what would happen if' philosophy ... kills cats)
god: OK
Next day all is dark and all hell has broken loose and all that jazz ...

I: Hmm. Perhaps its best you raised your hand.
god: yes yes.. *looks sarcastic*


*
(title unknown)

 

 

On Shrinks:
Shrinks are the most amazing people in the universe. Everything the patient says can be repeated back, with an "is it" appended. It makes for most interesting therapy. (for the shrink.. )



The truth - the stars can c you (c = 186000 m/s for now)

   
Here's a truth. The sun rises everyday and each day is a new beginning.

There are about a million stars that are visible with man made telescopes in the night sky. You need good telescopes yes.

The stars are the only, and I repeat, the ONLY, source of light. Everything else is reflected light, even the dots in your dark eyes.

The closest star is the sun and it is worshiped by a lot of people for being the only true source of light.

The next closest star is about 4 light years away (human time)

The rest of the stars are virtually unknown and nobody really knows whether there is anything along the lines of life that is thriving on the edges of even the known galaxies. (about 250 million of them, if I might give or take a few)

There is virtually no contact with anybody or anything that claims to be alien or even lunar or even a car ever. Nobody has proof of anything of the sort.

Does it not blow your mind that nobody has bothered to make contact with you, you who live a life that is seen ant-like from even the smallest skyscrapers ? But if your name begins with a letter and if you work hard and if you come home everyday in your white car, tired of the entire thing and knowing that tomorrow is going to be very much like today, if the morning soothsayer in you predicts a dreary and dull day spent doing things for other people that you may not even know that well .. how many of us would go on wondering about things like stars and skyscrapers and even psyche ? Think about it.

The truth is, the stars shine bright and they do so even during the day. The sun is one of the smallest stars. There are far greater truths hidden behind the veil of light that blinds you even if you try to look for even a second without the strongest of shades.


Think about it a little, I think I need to go have lunch (and where ! )

ever since I was young, my friends called me "porn star". This, you understand, was not malicious or anything vulgar, it was the way they'd call each other "leper" when denied a pass to make a sure-fire basket/goal/whathaveyou/... If any of us really did have leprosy of course it would have been rude. But since none of us showed signs of this terrible disease, it was funny when the word "leper" was yelled across the basketball court. It showed us all the humor of death. Perhaps, if I may get a little philosophical, it was the start of appreciation of black humor for all of us.

But I digress ... and digress some more..

In school I used to call other people nicknames and bully them but I learnt my lesson when the pornstar nick stuck. I have been called other names too, ruder and funnier, but pornstar stuck and I hated it.

Then one day I decided to take it in my stride, take it on the chin, take it like a man, (take it, just take it, however I took it) and write about my imaginary nocturnal rambliotic musingated emissions.... of course, naturally, we are talking about these weblog entries only ((yeah, we are)), in which I play the role of a seasoned pornstar, who verily copulates with beautiful women for a living. A typical day would start, for example, with a couple of eighteen year old twins wriggling out of his bed as he got ready to go to work. (where there would be more of the aforementioned eighteen year olds awaiting his lordly presence with earnest looks on their faces, interns perhaps, awaiting their first big break in the porn industry so that they retire rich at thirty ... eager to work with this person who had made it big in porn )

Anyway, so fakepornstar.blogspot.com was born, like fake ipl player only, but with a twist at the end.(s)

This is the story of a pornstar in the seventies, when the golden age of porn had just begun. Georgina Spelvin has just arrived one the scene with the Devil in Miss Jones, and producers are in talks with fakepornstarman to case himself with her in a sequel to the devil in miss jones.

I shall be describing in no minor detail, all the nightly emissions (yes, now this is not about any entries) of my alter ego, the porn star who mixes business with pleasure, and likes them stirred but not shaken. (We are talking about drinks only..  )

Coming soon to sadadosa extrachutney are the adventures of ...

(title unknown)

by Nikhil Kshirsagar

There was this article I wrote up once explaining why match fixing claims cause the losers to be the only team to enjoy the game of cricket. But what havoc follows when some lazy people start to intervene in the scheme of things ?

The toss is redundant, I felt, and asked the captains the following questions

"if you win, would u bat?"

If the answer was yes, and the other captain said he would bowl, I'd make the toss redundant. This greatly reduced the time spent apart from playing the game of cricket itself.

You'd think this was bad enough, but it goes on..

If you batted first, would you be comfortable with 160 for 2 after 20?

If the answer was yes, and the other captain felt comfortable chasing something close to the figure, the entire first innings was redundant.

This went on and on and on until the entire game of cricket, the world cup, the whole thing, boiled down to one ball, to one batsman.

This greatly reduced the amount of time playing the game of cricket, and advertising covered the rest of the 4 hours.

It would take a smart bookie to fix a match now.

On blogging:
Blogging's definitely the new writing. The classics were written in long hand, spelling mistakes corrected, polished, and then probably dictated to eager stenographers or fast typists. (there used to be competitions)

Blogging is so conducive to writing in the first person, which I think is the most natural form of writing anyway. Even the third person is fine. What I hate, are "quotes". He said, she said format, which doesn't lend itself to natural reading at all. Think Ayn Rand, with all those "XXXXXXXXX", he replied. "YYYYYYYY", said she, looking quizzically. Freakin Ayn Rand.
He knew. She knew he knew. He knew she knew that he knew and that he knew that she knew that he knew that. Even without quotes it was so bad. I'm sure Ayn Rand was no blogger, would've done wonders to her word-flow.

Live blogging's the new live writing that's never been done before. Ever seen live writers? Creating masterpieces spontaneously in front of your eyes? Hesitating at all the right places. Backspacing shit you never would've thought of backspacing ? 

Live writing's the idea, blogging's the platform. Save the trees, y'all. Stop buying paperback, there's ghosts of dead trees out for vengeance.  Why risk it ?

blog speak

by fuzzylogicbaba

It's finally happening, the great series of events that lead to live blogging is finally happening, and I tell you, its never been more exciting as a blog, personally, than now.

Blogs link to each other and all that, but a live blog is a different story. I've often wondered what would happen if I were alive. I've seen people read me, and I've watched their reactions and I've wondered whether they were alive after all, you know, often sometime people just want to lay down and sleep, especially if they've had a hard day and want rest, but me, personally speaking, me, I'm tired of sleeping, all I ever do is be read. It's not too hard to be read, the other person does all the work..

Did you ever wonder why spaces between things are more interesting than the things themselves? Blogs contain spaces, between words, and words are all I ever consisted of in the first place...

But I tell you, you heard it here second. * The world is round and all that, but circles are squares too, elipses are circloids too, and all people ever do, is orbit around each other, falling endlessly into an ever changing locus.. its true.. like the moon, its not an ellipse u know, I heard it first somewhere else, but whatever, its not an ellipse at all, its more like a circloid...

Heh, but I digress (as if that matters anymore, but anyway... ) you heard it here first too, and that too. ! <---

I've been a train wreck at times, watched as people gawked at the spectacle, as if their morbid curiosity into the life of another persons personal accidents was a healing balm. I've watched from rooftops as I tried to escape clutches of my own destruction. People are curious by nature, but idle curiosity is a different thing, and a personal investigation into the order of things and conclusions about train wrecks is a different thing. I scoff at readers sometimes, they read into the nature of things and wonder what the blog is all about, when all I want is to be read, and be alive.. (but thats a different story altogether.. .)

Can you simply beat this ? <= **

(to be continued)

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About a. person

by fuzzylogicbaba

For the general betterment of:

I don't want to indulge myself in lectures of morality for aspiring artists, writers ..., or offer kindly advise regarding the nature of betterment of health or the rationale of sobriety, but before you think too long about it, its important to have a few words on the importance of extreme moderation (?) in everything one does, especially when one is extremely content. Kind words follow, Mark as advise !

I'm a blog. I don't think I exist as a person, I exist in someone's head as part of his protein that feeds his inner brain. I'm raging through most of his head though. He takes pills and thinks its migraine.

People say he's a weird writer, looks at things inverted out or turned around, but I like my creator. He turned out to be a whimsical bore and old fashioned, but I'm still here, and I still exist. He let me live, this time around. Of course he keeps reminding me of the fact, but its progress.. 

And I'm alive, and I'm telling everyone I am.. I don't refuse to prove that I exist anymore, anyway. I decree I'm alive, I'm kicking, and I'm staying hungry and looking at bright objects to see if I see.


Perhaps mirrors are the way after all. I liked mirrors, but I find it scary that someone might live inside, mimicking every move just to see if it can be done. It's a crazy thought but entire universes can exist within small intervals that tend to infinity ? Its possible, is what I'm saying. The truth is, paranoia is a tag, the real reasons are buried deep in behavior patterns.. can't escape conditioning, its impressed and inbuilt before you even start to wonder what the entire thing is all about, is it a dream, a movie, a what ? And you're probably thinking I think I'll go eat some food now, and where ?

I'd like to thank physics, mirrors, literature, music, smells, google (tell me where to sign, (I'll learn how to type ... I'm a blog remember?) )

I'd like to thank authors, but you'd say blogs don't read much. Thats true, all I do is stare back while you type me out. They always wondered how to turn monitors into mirrors. I've seen people scan a mirror and weep with frustration.