The clutching of a younger sibling’s corpse touched every person in that room the way it was supposed to touch every individual there, the laughing gave away fear and the catch in the throat gave away the reality of the situation. The memoirs of an incident once drowned in a cocktail of chemically induced substances and the good ole’ organic outlawed… once did it, but it always comes back to hunt, always comes back to take you from your seated position to a society or rather clan where you see yourself in a mirror, a mirror that combines everything you ever wished away in your darkest nightmare.

This little act of self suicidal infelicitous irony played a little tune that every one of them four individual’s related to. The song that played out meant a certain sense of jubilation to one, for that particular individual thought they were others that went through a holding of one’s siblings. The fear, the last breathe that lay rest on a shoulder, the last words, the gasping for air, the blank look while it lay tattered by the wrecks of shrapnel, the shrapnel that tore into flesh like “it shouldn’t have”, the headiness of chemicals – natural and unnatural and finally guilt of not being able to do anything.

To the other it played a tune of loss, yet complicated world; one that would always be a book that collects dust by the minute, the day, by the week, by the years and finally by the decades. The ring was enough, to set a few salted droplets of excess emotions free, yet the adult diapers system of one castrated the potency of the issue to see it through to a next day. With the disposable society beginning to creep in, the past was always to forget, yet the will makes sure it does, the conscience has the last laugh.

The third; lies in a shadowed world of madness, a universe of tales, once happened yet not seen, a glimpse of technology captured it once for the third, yet not felt in real but in words and notes of the first two. Yet a story of another life, another tale that no one in that room knew, secret life if you may; though it felt that the third knew of the other’s silent suffering. It’s a pity one plus two doesn’t always make three, otherwise it would be fractioned and algebra-ised into a solution of A plus B equals a sum total of seven.

Seven makes room for another two. A duo that was there, yet waltzed in they own little suffering. One lay at rest and one lay at slavery. Heaven was the plan for them, though the others always knew nicotine and alcohol did the trick there; though arms of doubt always popped up to pay respects. Was it the closeness of the subject or was it the adrenaline of the sudden shock of a corpse that lay beside them, time would only tell; so far the mask of insecurity did the trick.

The seventh was…

If not for the background score, this world would not have known it’s stance in life, if not for the corpse this world continue living a lie.

Extreme sports had the likes of skate-boarding, biking and well paintball wars. Now let me assure you it’s not as sissy as it sounds – okay, imagine this You’re all geared up in your vest, pain grenades and well a whole damn forest to run around in. There’s a whole array of arsonary to choose from, however I personally like the bt paintball gun – It’s one killer piece of equipment.

I was actually thinking of going down to the global village where there cater to this sport for a little ole skool fun, maybe even with my very own paintball gun.

The other day I was on this “Google Italian recipes” mode, I came across a set of restaurants by La Jolla Cove. One of them was this place called – Trattoria Acqua, my cous’ in San Diego swears by it, so I thought I’d check they website out anyways. Apparently, my cous’ says; they come out with four or five different dishes every day. So anyways, shall visit them when I go meet him next, as for that night’s dinner – I had myself a Diane’s Angry Shrimp courtesy inspiration from them, though I sure did miss out on the scene’s of the Mediterranean Sea.

Makes mental note – Added a visit to Trattoria Acqua when in San Diego next.

I Was searching the Internet and I came across San Diego invisalign braces. Now, what made me stop right here is the fact that Dr. Safarian (The dentist who specializes in San Diego Invisalign Braces)  first educates the lame man about their oral ordeal and general “should-do’s” and then moves on with a plan of action and a treatment that suits them the best, all according to his analysis – something which my dentist really should learn. So, the next time I’m in San Diego I’m coming by this guy man! He’s seems the right guy to go about an Invisalign treatment, something I now, want!!!

“Ashish Ddavidd (Chuddy) – Vox
Waseem Ahmed (Wakao) – Guitars
Agnendra Bagh (Bunny) – Drums
Lakshman Parsuram (DayAfterTmrwo) – Guitars & Vox
Varun Ahuja (Sufi) – Bass Guitars”

Are you guys metal? Emo? Like seriously What the fuck? Day after tmrwo?? Wakao??? I’m Ding Bong but that has a nice ring to it… Oh well! You guys are Food!

“26th April 09 – 222 Members, amazing response, we dropped some shit and picked some new shit along the way. We guys are starting to understand our shit better.”

I just have one question… They’re named Food and they understand they shit better? Is that even a question? Oh well – Its Food for thought!

“20th April 09 – 24 Hours 103 Members. Not bad and all. Eh? A warm thank you to all the super hot ladies, and he super cool gentlemen!!! We are indebted with gratitude. Thanks for sharing the group on ur profiles. Means a lot. Peace Out!”

Ever Wondered Why? No! We still haven’t heard your music!

“19th April 09 – Ok Ppl!!! The group is up!! Its your territory. Feel free to uploads pics, vids, opinions whatever the hell!! The wall and forums are up to. No need to limit it to just the band or its members or music. Feel free to express. Everythings alright!! ”

I am doing exactly that!

“18th April 09 – Well, DayAfterTomorrow got himself a les paul epiphone from Amreeka. Bunny’s Real name has been revealed and its Agnendra Bagh – The fire breathing tiger. Varun is fianally making out and getting laid. Wakao has a Java paper coming up and Chuddy came up with the KILLER band name which everyone ate up.”

“The fire breathing tiger. Varun is fianally making out and getting laid.” - Really? Congrats! Spell-Check that too while you are at it!
Also – You guys seems to have digested as well as shat it out also!

Cheers,
Just hope your music is not well lets just say – A little more promising!

For my Audience – Here’s a Link!

Internet Reputation Management along with they team of skilled specialists make life simpler for their clients and helps them along with IRM grow against the fight of undeserved negative Internet publicity. First, Internet Reputation Management focuses on identifying the negativity of the particular website (in this case – yours) and then evaluates all the found negative search results, then the last step is putting together a strategic plan. In simple words there are two steps involved here:

1. Move the negative notices
2. Replace them with positive search results

How does IRM remove the negative internet publicity that is pounding your website in to the damnation of the Internets pits? Well, the answer is pretty simple; Since, most search engines do not look past the first page of results, so moving those particular links down the search page and off the first page at least really helps. To make things even better, this is just one of IRM’s techniques.

How does IRM replace those negative with the positive search results which only means a good Online Reputation? Well, again the answer is pretty simple; Internet Reputation Management introduces positive listings and articles or links that create a certain sense of positive content, that by default will go up the listings if the negative Online Reputation is removed at least from the front page. Along with this, they also promote current positive results which in turn gives the client they desirable online reputation.

I know of a particular person or rather cat who could contact IRM. His bunch of website sure need them. Till, I come across something more interesting toodles!

If kvlt had an award ceremony – She would be sweeping every possible category. HERES HER LINK

Here site also comes up first if you google “Want to make Frandship” with you!

Here’s Proof…

This was something the both of us detested; it wasn’t the whole concept of being a doctor that bugged us. It was the whole concept of being something we did not want to be and more importantly – we did not want to be or do something, our elders thought would be ideal for us to be or do. We were two punks riding high on words and attitudes of the Sex Pistols, The Ramones with a little bit of Kurt Cobain. Oh! How I hated that man, though Zakk seemed to be in love with him, his ways and his antics seemed to titillate Zakk to no man’s business. In fact, if you ask me, Zakk was probably point zero-zero-one percent of those kids who was apparently responsible for that numbskull’s suicide. The same kids that made him famous and the cult he still remains and the same kids who drove him to his death.

Zakk always had this concept running, like his brain was always working over-time weighing his life like the crevices on the back of his 13 year old hand. As we took our last drag each, Zakk said. “You heard, Moist Vagina?” “By who?” I asked. Zakk shot back “Nirvana man!” “And why would I do that to myself, put myself through that misery?” Zakk in a tone that he would plunder me (the only reason was I was his friend, and more importantly his new smoking partner) said “That’s Cobain man! He’s the real shit! I want to be like him – A man who does everything, reaches every height of a lifetime by the age of 24 and fucking dies.” Pondering for words, all I could muster up was “Dude, trust me when I say you’ll end up growing and frail”. As we walked towards the terrace exit, he gave me a look with his almost trademark stone cold face and said “Dude, not me, Jimi did it, so did Janis and Morrison, So will I… Me too!”

We walked downstairs, went straight to the bathroom gargled with toothpaste and sat down on Zakk’s couch like nothing had happened, yet if someone saw our faces we would not only be prime suspects but we would be the prime accused after asking us one question, whether we did it or not. Zakk was weird and always seemed cranked out of his skull, and was calm and composed despite his tall and athletic frame. He always seemed to “not care” about his surroundings, according to the people who never knew him, and that list was long, which was topped by his aunt and his grandmother, both of whom brought him up since he was three years old.

Zakk was not an orphan by any chance; according to him he met his mother on three occasions in a week. One, was every weekend, two, whenever his grand-mother didn’t turn up to pick him up from school or three, when he decided to bunk the video-game arcade which was conveniently positioned just down the road from his school. His mother was some body I just heard stories off, though I would let him initiate them. The thought of her would always come up every now and then, when a joint saw its last days with us or a bottle of cheap-ass whisky saw its last. But she always came up like a ghost who seemed to come back to haunt him, though whenever his mother was spoken off, there was this creak in his voice that spoke of a loss and a missing link in his life – A void that seem to have become his shadow.

Zakk hated “people in general”. He hated the whole concept of socializing; it was never in his stride to go all out to introduce himself when it came to social gatherings, though he had this charm to him, this mystique that pulled people to him. Maybe, that’s what pulled me to him, I was attracted to him from the very first word of ‘go’. He would only socialize on three occasions – One, if you liked video-games, two; you liked ‘his kind of music’ and three; you were part of his ‘circle of trust’ as he liked putting it.

He had many weird concepts to life. He didn’t quite believe in the term “love”, though that made him one of the biggest hypocrites in life cause’ he loved me, he loved every person in our group and he would go out of the way to make us happy, even if it meant putting us in front of his needs. He believed the whole group would disband and every one would forget him, there was no such term as “forever” in his dictionary. Which also made him paranoid at times, and when he got into one of his paranoid trips, that was the end of the world, they was hell to pay. Things were broken, destroyed, burnt and self mutilation in slow motion was the flavour of things to come.

I remember once he was on this paranoia trip just after getting royally stoned on some Manala we had managed to score just for his birthday. He was determined to make me believe that aliens would come over to his place from outer space and eat him alive, after making him a doctor. He went into a frenzied state of mind that he just kept muttering “Dude they’re coming to get me, just hide me away somewhere, you know some place they won’t be able to see me. Neil, would you save me, I dunno’ just save me!” I finally calmed him down by finally convincing him that his bed would be the safest spot to hide. “You know Zakk, if you hide under the covers and cover your face with your pillow, they wouldn’t know you’re Zakk and they’ll just keep looking and em’ aliens don’t come out in the morning. And when night comes around tomorrow, do the same thing till we are big enough to fight them and chase them back to where they come from”. He somehow bought that after I told him the same thing about ten times and a couple of CD’s broken and a chair constantly thrown across his room till it broke in half. According to him, “The chair is those aliens informant, Neil. It watches me day in and day out.” That was Zakk, a nut-case of the highest order, but had a sort of aura that washed all this down as magically as the mushrooms we would trip on at times.

The clock beeped; “three in the morning” and Neil wriggled around in anticipation, waiting for that doorbell to ring. He was expecting a friend, a fuck as he liked calling it but like everyone one of the other five, they knew it always meant more than a fuck. However, they always seemed to agree calling it a fuck to play into his ego-centric trips that sometimes played spoil-sport at times when they weren’t allowed.

Zakk waited in anticipation for one of these guys, who he considered the closest especially Neil to get up and come with him to score some more alcohol, even though there was enough alcohol to last all of them another drinking session. Zakk was never satisfied when it came to Alcohol, he believed in precaution is better than the cure when it came to his biggest love – Alcohol in any form.

The two of them were undoubtedly the closest in that room that night but it was these times that they differed on the basics of life. Neil was all about girls and a high, any high. A high to him meant anything from a line of coke to a miserly nicotine scroll. Zakk was all about alcohol and his solitary trips. What brought them together was they constant need for people to be around them. Zakk had the money to buy a third world country over, but he never had the urge to love somebody let alone a nation and Neil never had the money but he was always had the love and an urge to be accepted in society but for his pledge to the punk-hood of life. The last two and half years saw what started off as an argument on spoilt rich kids bloom into a bond that was inseparable – brothers for life, and unto each other till the very end.

The bells of the church down the road struck, the twelfth time it stood to signify the coming in of a time for rejoices and glory. The rustic leaves were a near future and open shirts and were from an era that seemed far away, yet so near.

Hugs went around with silent echoes of love and unity encircling the dingy dirt filled room with a vibe that would put Martin Luther’s line; “I have a dream” to shame in terms of positiveness. Tunes of “Stairway to heaven” made Plant a god for the moment, and the weed, Jack Daniels, Absolut, Pepsi, Navy Cuts, Malboros and six already heady brothers of different mothers were his reasons to his stake to God-ship and nobody seemed to give a fuck!

The door slammed opened; “Oi Guys, My uncle decided to gift us these” Zakk said, holding up a double pack of Gold Flakes and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

Woohoo, now we’re gonna’ get as blasted as the Hiroshima blast; said Richie.

Dude, the first person to get blasted and run around the room naked would be you, Howie said; looking up to the rest for approval.

Neil; taking a puff on his Navy Cut; slurred – “Grow up fuckers, the only bitch here is Eric”.

Zakk; smiled and plonked himself on the chair in front of his computer and went; “this is paradise; this is what I call utter bliss”.

At the other end of the room sat Neil, thinking of a place that was a better. A more scenic exterior, but he couldn’t seem to name a more genuine place that did not make up for the million empty spaces in his life. The interiors of this very room brought him closer to life as he knew it and this fact made him stay there. The smile on his face, the genuine feeling of a total bliss made him stick to that spot and these five people who he had come to know as friends, with a love that took on the mantle of good ole’ brotherly love, even though he had a brother.

“I’ll tell you what; I won’t smoke one till you roll one yourself” – Neil slurred.

Joey looked up with his wine infested eyes and nodded his head to show a sign of agreement.

From the back, Zakk screamed; “Now, We’re talking” and handed Joey a handful of what he confessed was the best weed around town; “This is the best shit man, and its ground to perfection.”

Almost in a hurry; Neil was sitting cross legged across Joey, teaching him how to roll a joint, his first joint, his induction to a world that Zakk and he knew in and out, or so they thought.

“Since, you’re smoking this shit for the first time, be a little nice to yourself and mix it in a 3:1 ratio”.

Joey shot back; “what the fuck? Just cause’ I’m the youngest, does not mean I have to go easy”.

Zakk slurred; let him smoke it his way and sat down to help him out, “take a bit of your weed in your hand, mix a bit of your tobacco and mix it together to a nice powdered blend”.

Joey was trying his best to not show his inexperience in this word that he had only heard and seen stories off, but never been in one before. Neil was done rolling his sixth joint and Zakk was done smoking his third, when Joey joyously said; “is this good enough?” with a tone in his voice that sounded like the victory bells of the English taking over the northern belt of America.

Neil looked up with a smile and said; dude you made it! Now, you smoke it, pulling out his lighter and helped an already drunk Joey to a world of a heady concoction of booze and good weed. A world, the rest of the group excepting Zakk and himself dared to venture into except for the occasional drag or two. Joey took his first drag of grass, his first drag of something that even resembled a cigarette.

“Cough-cough”, Joey struggled with his loosely made J, all the while mustering up a will to stutter a mouthful of inner feelings that was supposed to be out. “You know, my brother is gonna’ kill me if he comes to know”. “You know, Led Zep is crap, how bout’ some Lamb of God?”

The trip went deeper, as Neil liked putting it; weed is like a video-game, it has levels – you have to fight through every one of them to have a glimpse of the other side that awaits you. The victory lap too is just another level too.”

Zakk bent down; gave him a hand and went – “Dude, you need to get your arse back home, before your brother turns up here”.

Neil mustered up his words of responsibility; “I’ll get him home, I’ll drop him home”.

Neil picking up Joey says; “dude! I’ll be back, leave the mains open”.

Joey screamed “so would I be just wait and watch!”

Zakk said; “Yea dude, I’ll come over to your place tomorrow”.

Joey smiled and said; Okay, dude but make it in the evening, I’m not sure if my brain would agree meeting you tomorrow in the morning”

Neil; Merry Christmas Joey, I think you gotta’ get your arse home, before we’re all busted!!

Joey; Yea, let’s get home!

Neil looking at Zakk; I’ll catch you in a while.

Zakk in an approving nod; yea in a while!

And in the background, Brian Wilson sang one of his most prophetic tracks and it was aptly so considering Zakk was about to crawl on the carpet just like his famous brother of sorts… The words spelt disdain and glory all at once –

There’s a place, where I can go,
To tell my troubles to,
In my room, In my room…