Fade Out

The bombs dropped from the glorified yet saddened skies, mist on every blade and concrete blended into the small of our backs. Rewind!

It makes no difference, wishbones created on calm waves of drunken sobriety and there we had ourselves a fiery feast of nothing-dom. Nothing and nobody, swerving to a direction none of us knew, yet we took the road that leads to mis-happenings and joined the formation of swans that were flying into the harsh winters. The blades of grass had other things in mind, broken glass pieces cologne; it wore, with an attitude that calved its own little niche into the wooden furniture that denied it the freedom that was rightfully due. The skies were on a different level of ecstasy too; with its hallucinatory objects waving their hands around in a frantic manner, making us think of none other than Mr. Staley.

They all knew, Staley could never be replaced, yet they cursed his bloated soul with they opinionated thoughts, if only they understood. If only they understood the guilt and remorse he felt, to become what he was later on in life – a monsters. Yet they, like us knew he was a monster on the outside and the inside, but he made it a point to leave the soft-centered body, soul and mind to light a fire in our hearts every time we felt the blackness that instigated the dark in our very souls.

Somebody sniggered Fast-forward! For they were nothing but a bunch of curious creatures, and those creatures asked for nothing but the tag – Cats. The black cat curled around the legs of the Banayan Tree to give out a warm fuzzy vibe of love, that same cat lived on giving the same tree company for nonet years.

The years passed us by and the cats of the past haunted us, the black cats gave us company for dinner, the difference between those two sets of creatures were minor yet at heart the latter were creatures that were true at heart. They understood us, just like the skies, the grass and the rose that grew out of the dirt below, they all understood our plight – we were nothing but outsiders, nothing but extracts from society, we were nothing but beaten souls making a comeback, we were Cinderallas, we were nothing but people on fast-forward mode caught in the tape and made to rewind… we were on loop.

Looping around the fingers of the one’s we were born to kill some day, looping around the live wires that were designed to kill us and back each other as part of a pact of unity. Unity, we sometime forgot, but unity blended with a sort of higher state of emotional concious we were last seen planning world domination… not your world, not they world, not his world, not her world… just our world.

Details are worth mentioning when those very details are worth the effort, worth the happiness, worth the glory, worth the adrenaline. Something like a one noted, long haired glam inflicted jumping Jack-flash once did in a set of chords that spelt a thesaurus for an undying love. This weekend, it offered a whole array of every little emotion that the world could sponsor in a figurative manner – tears, smiles, glory, the adrenaline rush and every little atom in the element called life.

It all started with seven different reasons, six hours of slavery for the day, five minutes wating for a friggin’ Auto, four other extremely painful days before that six hour day, three hours taken to reach headquarters, two hours in the damn single lane at ten Kms per hour and one sigh of relief at the official Inauguration of the weekend.

So, there I was – a half dressed Punk heading to the ‘Bald Girl with long hair’ Den to do what – nothing else, but exchange music, well and a quiet corner or the small room adjoining her dungeon, while I tamed kitty when shifting gears from a virtual conversation full of pleasantries to be the “outsider”. Three friggin’ hours of absolute smoke-filled eyes and Mr. Anselmo playing the deafening team alongside Mr. Abbot and I finally see ‘Bald Girl with long hair’ arms wrapped around me and Outsider mode gets triggered.

After a cemented red carpet welcomed me a whole new layer of greenery, speaking of which the last time I saw greenery that close was when someone was name “After-drinking”, and that was one of those episodes you generally don’t forget in say another 60-odd years – a keeper. This time again, it had that same vibe just this time no one was going to renamed for perpetuality, this time the night would last until the mode: breakout of headache. So anyhow, I walk in to the wooden feast to meet la brete woman to be sitting cross-legged half humming-half singing a tale of mexian steaks. I get down to work, working to a plan worked out in my head, calculations galore, all I needed was words unsaid and that was exactly I what got, instigated by kitty in the making. Half a bottle shared between the three of us and I was on a planet I never say no to on a weekend – the weekend seemed blasted and high on butter chicken.

A half bottle later and in walks a whole damn army of chaos, what seemed a nice calm evening was deviating away from calculated nuclear launch, this army wasn’t good, time to do the unevitable; I thought. Time to zone out! So I zone in and zone out at my free will, I get back in to virtual mode, some one was heard saying something about a nude beach, some one was heard calling me a brain on perverse mode, some one was heard reciting a poem based on an inner fear, the spot I had now taken up bang in between the corner of the middle, was starting to feel like the circus and I was the audience on “never entertained” mode. I felt like the center of attraction, I hate that feeling. Though, that didn’t last long, three of the existing five came up to me with a magical water, which I happilly blended with the ecstacy of the other half bottle’s elder sibling, the rocks was just a calmer.

While this social drama being played out to perfection in my head, birthday girl was on metal-head mode, singing tunes of I hate punk verses, this is where I stepped in and announced our exit, what better than the famous Hades, Hades anyday makes a day perfect or so I thought. What followed was a cosmic force to reckon with, a whirlpool of pleasantries passed by none other than girl with hot arse and hotter legs, jumped me straight in to Eddie’s trip of cheap liquor and wicked hangovers, just that the hangover was far far away, I played along the lines of Aryabhatta and got into plesantry mode. The drive was far from far fetched rubble, it was magic carpet ride on full display though there was one small problem – I was turning out to be in the circus again.

Hades finally and after parking the car twice, superman was out in his colors again after a mighty long time, I met Baba aka Trance culture boy, after which I entered wished Birthday girl only to know it was thermorthrope boys birthday too, so had cake at birthday girls table and hopped on to the metal head table to have a cake war, Superman becomes Cake boy for the rest of the evening to come… what happens next is based duely on people experiences and not mine – I do not remember a thing in this phase! I’m sorry if I was a general pain in the behind, though I will not promise it wont happen again…

This be what happens…

Punk aka superman aka cake boy aka me, decides to ash in purple underwear.
Punk decides to smooch ash in purple underwear if staring does not stop.
Superman gets wished happy birthday and gulps down beer.
Cake boy gets molested by purple underwear – literally and figuratively.
Punk shows Punk Girl true meaning of being Punk.
Funk busy with mirrored imagery.
Birthday girl does chocolate faced head-banging session.
Punk gukps down two more beers.
Punk gets into argument with shirt pulling asshole.
Punk, going insane with ecstacy and bump and grinding with two figures on two different levels.
Punk decides enough is enough, starts socializing.
Army calls shots and decides enough crap seen and heard.

After which, (again in a daze) – I shout Dungeon – dungeon, people start chanting dungeon – dungeon! So we head to dungeon through metro working-matching lending metro workers, losing navy stock, pleasantries falling on drunkard brain – we reach! We reach finally only to meet rest of army – I was sinking… I needed my stock, they needed food, I needed stocks, they needed sleep. So Nuno Bettencourte and I head to be the soldiers behind stocking up, we head back, only to find the army restocked on “I dont know what” and in turn fall down like standing pins one by one… I go on galaxial tour in dungeon…

Dungeons, cosmic forces, Galaxies, traces of Africa, my brain on “about to ignite” mode and baldness per-sonified make way from the chaos to discuss the geographical spot behind every god damn republican’s view on a democrat and vice versa, which all culminates in a big-bang that would put CERN to shame, the rubble calms down to find myself against a pillar, cradling my troubles out with a certain sense of cross-dressing enactment which only the outsiders could understand, while other outsiders looked on, but went into Mr. Morrison mode – a promised made to stay blind to favor unity beyond any ones understanding… the journey into spacce carried on into the break if dawn, which meant breakfast and a peg to cure the fire erupting upstairs, that was bound to burn down the rest of the building if it wasn’t extinguished… All I could think of was – Welcome back! Friday Nites at Amsters!

Vote of thanks…

The Purple underwear – for molesting me in a nice way, but did you have to – you know violence is bad!

The Birthday Girl – it’s been what – two years almost I haven’t been fed

The three of the five of unity – Thanks guys! You guys always seem to have my back even in the calmest situations!

The Drive – India Gate is a high security area, where you cannot stop any place at four in the morning, for ecstatic colored loops.

Mr. Anselmo – for setting the evening right from the start!

The love in me – for being there to cover my ass!

The hate in me – for believing in the phrase – Patience is a virtue!

Sarthak – for making the headche go away a bit – The Cars rule man!

All I forgot – Without you guys, this piece wouldn’t possible!

God – Isn’t he always there in this section!

Navy Cuts, B & H’s, Milds, Ultra Milds, The Joint outside Hades, Gold Flake (the elder one and the younger one) – You guys always make for good company!

The two cakes – for making me officially cake boy!

As I had said HERE, I shall be putting up an extreme case of puking after the weekend. So, HERE IT IS, FRIDAY NITE @ AMSTER’S

Things I want to know!

Who the fuck hid my Ciggys under the car seat?
Why was Calvin in so much of a hurry for us to reach Amrita’s place?
Why was Jasmine giving me the stare? A disgusted one at that also!
Who rolled that Joint outside HAdes? And kahan ka maal tha? (It was a nicely rolled marley! for those who don’t know)
Why was cake smashed on my face? And why did Ayush give me a beer and wish and hug me happy birthday when I told him my birthday was in december?
Why was I in a circus?

Will ask more as and when the daze comes around! ALSO TOP FIVE HAS BEEN UPDATED!!!

Cut out shit, reclaimed society and nothing to prove to nobody – a walking nobody. I think the battery of the democracy will bludgeon the hypocritical world of faint sly touches. You know the liitle gestures of a couple of lovers, she buttons his shirt button and he pushes the hair behind her ears. The geographical status automatically gets questioned.

This is my true calling
redemption of the sinner
civil defended conotations
staring up at the light
eroded cosmic tales
nerves on sedation mode
It’s time… It’s my time.

Violence – rebirth
Mohawk – rebirth
Loveless – rebirth
Fearless – rebirth
Wasted – rebirth

Ritualistic Paranoia sets in
elections uphauled
Knife in back
It’s my time, my time
Step back…

Revenge – rebirth
Innocence nitrated
fear cuffed…
…killer – Reinstigated
Violence – Reborn
Corruption – Dead
It’s my time… My time
…solitude for no reason
In my time… my time
In my time… on…
…my time…

Single days cradled away into a zionic world, wild boars become the prey, toxic wastes spills out of the urinal, living in the ashes of the alive… there, The Replubican, The Democratic, The… The normal piece of carcass living, talking, walking bomb, they ashes become dust and she prays with her hands clasped tightly. The abdomination, it makes for the true definition of the hypocritical irony.

Eradication of the brain cell and black becomes the stain to the white, slavery of you may say. Vampiric conotations, Zombies instigated the battle. LSD for blood, the ecstatic loopy vibe for gore, the world changes into a burning flame of incantated fire on violent screams mode. Walk with the savior and be forgiven were the words that were encrypted into the souls of our fore-fathers, now we all die with every letter inscribed in our souls, minds and body.

Fire finally fighting fire now, all in cruise mode. For the English language challenged – Finally a peg down to cure the hangover of baseless electronically charged on compulsive mode through static channels of color and happy flowery modes. Nothing else to do, so I thought might as well drop in to home away from home on fading light.

So far the weekend, promises me my fair share of booze, sleep and fun. The perfect kind of weekend. Though, I’m still trying to figure out one, the last I heard from her she was going frantic about one of the links on this blog – Issues in life, I swear!

Last night, was uber fun with Fridays Nites at Amster’s making a comeback. Friends galore, booze over-flowing, arnitrary conversations and cake pieces flying high in glory. With my usual temper flaring here and there, playing a sort of hide and seek… As far as the rest of the weekend – it’s still not over…

Stay Tuned!

The vision I got last night as I took a look around at the world around me turned out exactly the opposite of a fun time. It was like these ecstatic colored loops turned ugly and spun out of control. Now that I think of it that circle of chaos seemed pretty apt considering black is my favorite color and black is nothing but a shape-shifter, a color that stands in the back-end while all the other colors gets a pat on their shoulder/butt/back for all the hard work black goes about, black is also a combination of a million fucking colors smudged together on a canvas that comes out shining bright, like the moment shall pass type of concept. Another pretty apt thing happened last night, when a friend was telling me about her new four legged figure of loyalty and its retardation phase, I burst out with live lunacy updates at 578 miles per hour.

Speaking of which Amster came up with a post while I was posting this, and I just had to comment on it. The comment went something in the lines of; “What is the difference between a girl-friend and a girl you’re in a relationship with, and the answer turned out – nothing much! However, on the other hand Parents are like this thing, that is a friend but this friend makes you dance to their steps whether its forcefully or emotionally… You always end up doing that… But then again my definition of a friend is as warped as the remains of the last one…”

Moving right along, silence has always been my vent out. You know the sort of thing when you swallow your fustration layer after layer, then a thin layer of rust residue forms on that, then another layer of fustration forms over that tickling up the arse of the earlier set of fustrations, just to in turn settle and grow its way into puberty-dom of rustic residues. Social dramas is the term to explain that, and the funny part is that it took a showcase to drill that fact into my system all the while showing me off to the world, bending me over for its session of personalized anal pleasures – Revolt – I found a solution – I burned down the same stage I was standing upon.

Coming back to my set of definitions, I still haven’t got a lot of em’ English words. No, it’s not cause’ I don’t know. The reason practically lies in the fact that I decline from Sub-consciously learning the definition of various terms that only add up to what we all have to come to know as life. However, all said and done, I think there is anything wrong in doing so, neither is there anything right in doing so. Which is apt, giving the fact that I was on live commentary mode about the to and fro motion of life and I was getting hit when the see-saw went up only to stand up straight and get hit when the see-saw went down.

Last words – I want to be that figure of loyalty, the damn thing is all that I want to be right now. A loving master, a house and another figure to look out for.

I seem to stuck in an ecstatic loop, you know just the type when you on those blue lil’ things with carpets flying around and you are stuck on one of them just that the other one has grown a pair of hands and waves back at you. You know the lil’ things that are either blue, green or yellow they all seem to do the same ole thing – keep it all away. The ecstatic loops are the best you know when you start to grope the air, thinking you might just catch on to some thing special just that a bubble bursts on your left and you figure that that bubble also was carrying that special lil’ thing. However, the ectstatic loops do have their own set of scions, you know the stuff that branches out on to another parelell surface and the red landscapes make Mars look like a small little balloon.

So, the other day I was happily surfing on of those colorful waves when whoosh came a big splash of water, with enough force to break my board in two. That was funny cause’ the surf board looked like a weird lil’ thing that in turn made a whole lot of colorless bubbles. Those colorless bubbles were even scary cause’ they sent shivers up me spine and got me guzzling down them colorless things. Sometimes colors just don’t get to the point with their various shades.