Fade Out

So, it’s been ages since I last updated this blog, reasoning being in the fact that I’m quite the lazy one. Add to that, the fact that the world around me hasn’t really been the best, when it comes to things “worth writing about”. Anyhow, been on this different tangent of things lately, like for example I quit smoking (giving no significance to things that would’ve tickled my apple cart a month back), I’ve joined this new company called Fashion and You, rather I’m technically still on probation, I shifted to South Delhi – Finally! (more…)

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the biggest of idiots lately; my “favorite” neighbor, the dude who hasn’t grown up since the time he figured he was (in all probability) poked in the rear by his next door neighbor, the artist which made it a point to make the world his slave – faggot ass mofo!

So little time, so much ignorance to handle – I wonder when will it stop!?!??!

Trapped in this house, driving me past the point of no return of this crazy thing called solitaire, which derives every inch of insanity buried in me. This house! Oh, no! It never dies even in the still of the night when owl’s and bat’s make merry, the sanctuary still breathes!

I wish I could speak of a basement, where I could cuddle myself into the arms of the devils lil plan, this lil’ shit creeps into my dreams at times even when its\’s got more than a lil opposition. Strangers speak from styro-foam boxes, voices peep through the lil holes of cigarette butts and emty glasses with traits of vodka, the cracks of sorrow just gape showing their fucking thirty two teeth.

I need a movement, a moment; fuck this shit – I don’t know what I want. I’m just a little confused over protective lil’ baby waiting to pee his pants at any given moment – that would in all probability be my moment. I wish I could see the acid in the rains, atleats I won’t be this lifeless lil’ shit that I am. I wish the horizons calm down and dont hurt me, stimulants and toxins keep me there; I still like that feeling, that escape – after so many years!

Hand caressing thy spine in a Puritan’s love, love that’s trapped in a repressed soul. A soul that lies on a  dazzled mind and a fruit that gives back more than what it is. Fear not; for it is a phantom, a phantom the lives on the remains of a blackened past. A past that was made to look just another cloud in the sky, a sky that was full of stars except for that little cloud. That little cloud was nothing more than a spectacle. Tough; one said, impossible; said the other with a soulful frame of mind with the beckoning of the transcription that was incribed on the back of ye’ scalp said; possible in the seed of glory.

The bone of the fact spoke of words of knowledge and application. Those were words of subliminal verses and perverse from the depths of it dark and deathly pits. This was more of virtue of philosiphical greatness; this thing called love.

And the song went…

Colored ecstatic loops found its way around again this weekend and not once but twice courtesy my brain in my brain and if that was the case it would be only fair (and evident) that I would be in my brains skull (or rather down it). Anyhow, the loops started out on rollercoaster mode, with a humming bird made of me. The resemblance in the subject fell into place when one of them loops decided to creep up and explode in a cosmic exploration of altitudes, achieved before, yet this time the canvas was a reflection of a different mountain-top.

…Colors are just a dissected version of a darker shade, also known as black!

The truth of the matter was and is now – whatever color it is, it sure would be rampage time, executed in a manner that has no boundaries, has no alms for cruelty and a joy that makes you sit in a corner in a post era with an overwhelming sense to cry. Minor Earth and major skies happened when rain-drops decided to be cruel, true! the toxins and a scent of probable ‘lushness’ had it’s finger in the pie and true! Ants Marched in a good way for a change, pecking at a nerve that felt like a nipple piercing on exploited mode. Moments later, old bad ass friend added to the greenery’s world and folks were a subject that was waiting to be bombed, yet a sense of uncertainty in doing so cried Hallelujah! All this, to see a return of tonnes of home, instigated by no rain – A Blind fucking Melon it seemed! The air was definitely not clearing, the silence in heaven decided to play murderer, so hell was the choice of abomination.

…Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it!

A symphony of destruction playing out in the incarnate – sweating bullets! Func decided to be the gesture, so did the blonde dimwit who decided break-beat was the route to triggering off all orgasmic hand grenades, however, creep decided to show up and set the mind on procrastination mode, and children and women obeyed the mood, their all decided to tell the deaf and blind idiots that mystics was a better option. Not seeing or hearing the signs that were there, the two decided to break all boundaries and drive each other through each others veins and into they brains – scandals being played out to the sober! Apparently, the mountains being chopped down were not enough, the angels were sent down to watch over shoulders and take all of them loops and make it a rollercoaster ride on random mode – capturing heartbeats, souls and ripping them right out in a moment!

…Children cried in the streets for a mothers love, they cried for more!

The truth got twisted, knots got twisted, hell! even hell got twisted to culminate into a warped set of antics that took the week hearted and shot the god damn hypocrites who couldn’t admit they would’ve done the same – It’s simple, you have the moment grab it, though they took the phrase "grabbing the moment" to another level, gave it a random name and gave it a face that made Satan look crass and all with a smile to go – perfect and compact random live shells all over. Clouded perceptions of pain, sorrow, deceit, agony and everything related looked like a play toy – evil ways would be an apt enough reasoning behind it, though in a good way. All this ended finally at a time when Cinderalla went back to washing dishes for her step mother, and it instigated a propaganda that sparked off insomnia cures for the world to cherish. As far as the two idiots – they were called back to sing a duet of Roxette’s rendition on "sleeping the back seat of my car", this time around they weren’t any spectators but they were spectacles on bliss mode.

…What you give is what you get!

There was a time when trust was just a thing, we dealt with, we blindly leaned forward into; something like a kiss. That was a time when Motley Crue sang tunes of “Looks that Could Kill,” and Dire Straits crooned over the soppy fools with anthems like “Romeo & Juliet.” That was almost a decade ago, that era at the same time seems almost like yesterday. That would make it nothing but immortal; an immortal era (?) – Maybe!

Yesterday was a different world altogether, with the usual noise before a year fallen and the usual Zakk Wylde inspired nonsense on the day after the parade of glory; which most of the time ended almost 24 hours later. Hours that were royally inaugurated with the flamboyant adrenaline of Bruce Dickinson and Co.’ “Two Minutes to Midnight,” the routine was simple hum the mentioned track and sing “The Trooper,” all the while compensating for the lost lines of Rob Halford’s “Breaking the Law.” Those lines was the slow, yet gradual twist of fate when it came to our habits, the same habits that brought about a feeling that had us grabbing our stomachs in a state of excruciating pain and the same feeling that had us hopping trains like nobody’s business.

That “Spanish Caravan” trip was bad, it did take us to Spain and it did land us in shit in Portugal, but we were the immortal ones, the right ones, the ones who would never stand down for reasons that weren’t written in our books, reasons that were just plain unadulterated madness and reasons that had us lock-downed in a higher state of consciousness. We were the brats, and “what could you do with a friend like that.” Relationships were doing the paradigm shift, there were covering and they were getting worn out, they even went into a state of shock at times. While the whole world crumbled and fell, the Y2K bug caused a scare and the state of Indian politics were in turmoil that erased nothing but the common man’s trust, therein removing everything that resembled a world for us.

Politics played a vital role for us, even if it was in a silent way. These things generally have a way of creeping into ones life; after all we all do end up dying for our government – “Like Shit”. Silence was our game-plan from the very start, silence that was proved by our systematic chaotic world, we stood our grounds to be beat down again only to rise with a smile to beaten down again, and it was turning out to be a pretty vicious cycle. The cycle was prone to head down the road of the Roadhouse Blues, every time there was a dead-end in the road, we would climb and stumble over the walls even if it meant risking our necks over it.

The evaluation carried out by us was nothing but a perceptive lie, a cover that was pulled over by us, for us and of us; we were a brilliant constituency that was not going to back down for anyone. Even if it meant our devious, drug-loving, manipulating and the fundamental preconceptions about our lifestyle was out on display – we didn’t care, as long as we had each other to look out for and each other to spit in the face off and we had no one but each other to kill ourselves with. This was our institution, this was our concept and this was our temple, where we ruled, where we made the decisions, this was where we voted ourselves to power and most importantly this was where we made the word trust mean nothing but an assured reliance in another one and that one was a mirror neuron of each other.

Always been the type who sat away, hidden away insides on this festival, I’ll probably even do the same next year. However, this time it was different, a lot had to do with Amster. At Hades doing my usual tuesday night rounds which was supposed to be behind the console ended up in a concoction of Bhang, Rum, Beer, Lime wedges, Ice-Cubes and my kinda’ music. Holi was in and was to stay.

Three hours later, I found myself in Maji’s house laughing away for no reasons at all, absolutely no reasons at all, four hours later sleep came around only to be woken up 5 hours later. A lil color here and there (okay, not so little), then the Holi Cow Festival, with a shit load of bikini clad women, weed, hash, beer, some halls flavoured drink, a hangover, Amster, color, baloons, music, more music and Amster being dunked twice into a swimming pool (it shouldn’t be called that).

Left the party, headed straight to Subway’s and fuel station, lime iced tea happened at Cafe Coffee Day and some more halls flavored stuff (I really want to know what that is, so Sandy if you see this let me know this time when I’m sober), left for home.

Home was all about cleaning up (had a bath twice), telling mum the last two days stories, dinner on order, Happy Feet, bedtime stories with Amster (Wabbits eh, the story was?) and waking up to mum busting us sleeping in one bed (my mum is extremely religious, don’t quite know how it slipped by)…

I’m glad it was your bestest Holi! Maybe, next year…???

It’s been a long time since I reviewed a random weekend of mine. Hell! it’s been ages since I even blogged; so this is one of those random weekends – this weekend. Friday evening was spent going through the reins of one crappy ass show. The problem with shows at thsi level is bound to crappy when you have multi-linguil artists (some crappy, some average and some just real good). More on that show – later in another blog!

Anyhow, after the show we (Amster and I) headed on to meet Asif and Aiyesha who were with some more friends (Notably Pallavi) and this all at Morrisons. Got smashed there and carted another back home. Ate, slept and woke up on what was supposed to be a lazy Saturday afternoon and finished a bottle of Gin with the ‘another one’. Bathed twice, and left for Morrisons again to meet Amster’s friends from Germany, got them drunk, got ourselves drunk, got auto guy back home to take on six people at one in teh morning for us, paid hima little extra, got home had some whisky and passed out and never woke up till one in the afternoon the next day. Sunday was spent just the way it’s supposed to be spent – a movie, a match, another match, music and us.

Why does everyone like everything ole skool? Is it the old nostalgia of it all? Is it the comfort levels of it? Is it the convenience levels of it? Or is it the overall balance of it all? It amuses me at times man!

Like a while back, I got into an auto driven by the same guy who used drive me to my first job, and he was like I miss the good ole days, when you would get in with “that” girl, where is she now? (after which I answered), then he went on to say things in the lines of – All those old passengers stoped coming by at that stop, so I started standing at Dwarka (5 kms away from where I stay).

Nevertheless, all said and done – I think he misses me most cause he used to get me my grass at times and he would rip me off!

This is what I’ve been busy amongst other things:

• How I spent my Sunday
• Work and the journey’s pleasures
• Some Sacrifices
• Bugs
• Some Kinks
• Some Blogs
• Some of the other places