Maha G. by Ga-Joob
Late by a few days; only laziness.
This is for Sid-the-boar's latest short film.
On:
Lead Vocals - Chandni Venkataraman
Backing Vocals - Sid-the-boar
Guitar - Ken-Dawwg
Bass - Naanu
I dont like it too much...the song. Too much tailor work.
It's very likely i will not do such things again.
Break-ups are bad, grey areas suck... separation is the worst.
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Not enough...
...time to play bass
...time to play piano
...of her next to me
...energy to identify a research problem
...of Samurai Jack
...women i blend with
...sense to stop brooding over all of the above.
Cracked GATE. Barely, surprisingly. Cant really use it though.
It will be a yearly event for me. Wash away the sins of B.E.
Blah.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Sea of Es
Seas of Ease by Ga-Joob
This month.
Too lazy to fill it in with colour. Botched up GATE, and fell ill for nearly 5 days (both being mutually exclusive).
I like my progress on the Bass. Lots more to pen-down, record and fret over.
This month.
Too lazy to fill it in with colour. Botched up GATE, and fell ill for nearly 5 days (both being mutually exclusive).
I like my progress on the Bass. Lots more to pen-down, record and fret over.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
So long
No inclination of any sort, to 'pen' things down. However, i have been playing, and recording...more of the former.
Sound Cloud is a lovely site i found through Kman.
Long live Kman and Mo.
The side-bar shows the music in a quite 'in-your-face' way.
Besides, there are things i want to write about; The impending ban on beef in the state; 'vegetarianism' in general; how i screwed up an important interview; how i got stuck in an unplanned meeting (brrr...). All to be written about soonly, i hope.
Interestingly, after all these months of deliberation, on music and life, i have come to an annoying juncture, where one person in particular, rather violently, rattles the cages of the chimps in my brain. Her voice annoys me terribly, and her face pisses me off. I'm not saying who...but somebody gonna get a herrt reel bad....somebody.
Long live Russsssal.
Anyway, hope this works:
Swirl by Ga-Joob
Sound Cloud is a lovely site i found through Kman.
Long live Kman and Mo.
The side-bar shows the music in a quite 'in-your-face' way.
Besides, there are things i want to write about; The impending ban on beef in the state; 'vegetarianism' in general; how i screwed up an important interview; how i got stuck in an unplanned meeting (brrr...). All to be written about soonly, i hope.
Interestingly, after all these months of deliberation, on music and life, i have come to an annoying juncture, where one person in particular, rather violently, rattles the cages of the chimps in my brain. Her voice annoys me terribly, and her face pisses me off. I'm not saying who...but somebody gonna get a herrt reel bad....somebody.
Long live Russsssal.
Anyway, hope this works:
Swirl by Ga-Joob
Monday, August 03, 2009
Para-gone
.I write this post as a lament...not regret, but more as an expression of grief, although it's often tough to segregate the two.
The past one year had held a lot of promise, primarily, in the music scene of my life. Having taken a long hiatus from live performances, while in Singapore, i pretty much played alone (except for friday nights). All this musical wanking, i hoped, would eventually lead me to a state where-in, if i were to be part of a band sometime in the near future, i would be 'ready'.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Playing alone for nearly two years, and the events over the last few weeks has made me realise one thing: I am selfish, hence i make music only for my personal pleasure and growth.
Here, growth and pleasure are not mutually exclusive, and strangely, either one begets the other.From this, i know, playing music is not just some hobby that i'll run to after a hard day's work, nor is it something that i'll ever want to do under inebriation. To me, playing music is sacred. This means, i dont care if the music i make is heard by anyone else or not. The only thing that matters is the process of 'creation'...if i may even call it that. After all, any song of absolute music is either a note-re-organised,augmented or reduced version of any other song...and pithily, that's all there is to it. Yet, i find it so sacred and this i can't explain...yet.
There is more to how music and the human mind works. Any 'familiar' tune i listen to, 'brings back' memories of times when i first got familiar with it. This process of bringing back, transcends almost all barriers of time. I remember VERY vividly the colour of the sky and the 'setting sun' one evening, while i was listening to 'The Carpenters' at the age of Four. I remember at the age of Six, the warmth (or the lack thereof) of water during chilly Bangalore school-mornings when my Father religiously played those select few 'foreign' tapes accessible to a typical middle class family by means of relatives in distant lands. I remember at the age of Seven, playing at home with 'action figures', and my Mother returned from the market, carrying a brand-new, wrapped-up G.I. Joe Bike, while Konkani folk songs played-on in the background. I also remember at the age of Ten, observing how my Brother would lay back and read all those books while listening to tapes of Grammy Award artists of the 80s & 90s...tapes he procured by cajoling my folks...tapes that i owe my entire life in music to. I also remember at the age of Eighteen, falling in love head over heels, while The Beatles' "Abbey Road" and Queen's "Greatest Hits" spun like merry-go-rounds in my hormonally influenced mind.
In,through and out of all these memories, it was never the words/lyrics of a song that actually made me relate with the moment. It was always the 'tune'...the absolute music aspect of the song. This is what i cant explain. Further, it hurts that i can't explain something which evokes such emotions from me; Something that can drastically change my mood literally by the flick of a switch. Music has always been there, its presence shameless and very evident,but its purpose? ...always mysterious, clouded and often contradictory to whatever reason i could attribute. Like a puzzle, music has driven me on a search and has subsequently lead to a near rabid hunger for the answer. Though unrecognised at first, of late, it has reached a different level, both, with respect to the recognition and the intensity of the search. From what i recall, and what i figure, the first step i took towards this search, was inadvertently but undoubtedly, hours and hours of fooling around with my keyboard (also read piano). Hours and hours of playing songs...ANY song. I just wanted to play. I liked the sound, i loved how it made me feel. It generated a great sense of accomplishment to play a song that i heard on a 'professionally recorded tape', and to play it perfectly, 'JUST LIKE THAT'...hence the phrase 'tape-perfect'.
But, there is only so much you can do with playing someone else's song. You may bend it, twist it, shake it and even rock it... but it still isn't yours. The obvious next step is to reach a 'state' where you start playing whatever you feel; An accurate description of this act would be :
"Transcription of thought into art".
Towards this state, i have been inching , for the past few years. Mastery over this state will be, according to me the ultimate achievement. For accurate transcription of thought into art, should imply the reverse from anybody's senses and not just the creator's.
The only problem with this, is that step one lingers, and rather stubbornly. We will always get back into a phase of 're-living' those moments through the thought-transcriptions of others. Step one is also a nasty and easy way out to instill a pseudo sense of skill. I stand by this belief.
It is this feeling that drives me towards solving a problem: something i cant see, hold or worse, explain. For music which has meant so much to me, it is the least i can do: solve the problem.
Follow my art to the end of my dreams, and then even more.
I cant even fathom what happens after step two, but i sure will pen it down, if i figure it out someday. But, by the looks of it, not someday soon.
Over the last one year, i wrote music, toiled, gigged and 'made merry' with a band. I believed that as a band, this would lead to a permanent detachment from step one...it nearly did. Unfortunately, this belief did not sustain. A band, no matter how 'skilled', may need to compromise, and go through reaping the myriad plastic fruits of step one in order to move on to step two; but as long as step two is in the cross-hair, the band will be. Even the focus doesnt matter...its just the direction...'for now', so to speak. Sadly no such thing figured in the cross-hairs. Fame is pseudo and subject to current trends in society, whereas true recognition comes only through original contribution...Recognition does not necessarily imply fame, and according to most people, a band can't survive on recognition alone. As defined by most people, fame for a band is not just a thrill, but a necessity.
I don't define a band that way.
Which is why i am in pain.
Mostly self-inflicted.
Refusal to accept.
The past one year had held a lot of promise, primarily, in the music scene of my life. Having taken a long hiatus from live performances, while in Singapore, i pretty much played alone (except for friday nights). All this musical wanking, i hoped, would eventually lead me to a state where-in, if i were to be part of a band sometime in the near future, i would be 'ready'.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Playing alone for nearly two years, and the events over the last few weeks has made me realise one thing: I am selfish, hence i make music only for my personal pleasure and growth.
Here, growth and pleasure are not mutually exclusive, and strangely, either one begets the other.From this, i know, playing music is not just some hobby that i'll run to after a hard day's work, nor is it something that i'll ever want to do under inebriation. To me, playing music is sacred. This means, i dont care if the music i make is heard by anyone else or not. The only thing that matters is the process of 'creation'...if i may even call it that. After all, any song of absolute music is either a note-re-organised,augmented or reduced version of any other song...and pithily, that's all there is to it. Yet, i find it so sacred and this i can't explain...yet.
There is more to how music and the human mind works. Any 'familiar' tune i listen to, 'brings back' memories of times when i first got familiar with it. This process of bringing back, transcends almost all barriers of time. I remember VERY vividly the colour of the sky and the 'setting sun' one evening, while i was listening to 'The Carpenters' at the age of Four. I remember at the age of Six, the warmth (or the lack thereof) of water during chilly Bangalore school-mornings when my Father religiously played those select few 'foreign' tapes accessible to a typical middle class family by means of relatives in distant lands. I remember at the age of Seven, playing at home with 'action figures', and my Mother returned from the market, carrying a brand-new, wrapped-up G.I. Joe Bike, while Konkani folk songs played-on in the background. I also remember at the age of Ten, observing how my Brother would lay back and read all those books while listening to tapes of Grammy Award artists of the 80s & 90s...tapes he procured by cajoling my folks...tapes that i owe my entire life in music to. I also remember at the age of Eighteen, falling in love head over heels, while The Beatles' "Abbey Road" and Queen's "Greatest Hits" spun like merry-go-rounds in my hormonally influenced mind.
In,through and out of all these memories, it was never the words/lyrics of a song that actually made me relate with the moment. It was always the 'tune'...the absolute music aspect of the song. This is what i cant explain. Further, it hurts that i can't explain something which evokes such emotions from me; Something that can drastically change my mood literally by the flick of a switch. Music has always been there, its presence shameless and very evident,but its purpose? ...always mysterious, clouded and often contradictory to whatever reason i could attribute. Like a puzzle, music has driven me on a search and has subsequently lead to a near rabid hunger for the answer. Though unrecognised at first, of late, it has reached a different level, both, with respect to the recognition and the intensity of the search. From what i recall, and what i figure, the first step i took towards this search, was inadvertently but undoubtedly, hours and hours of fooling around with my keyboard (also read piano). Hours and hours of playing songs...ANY song. I just wanted to play. I liked the sound, i loved how it made me feel. It generated a great sense of accomplishment to play a song that i heard on a 'professionally recorded tape', and to play it perfectly, 'JUST LIKE THAT'...hence the phrase 'tape-perfect'.
But, there is only so much you can do with playing someone else's song. You may bend it, twist it, shake it and even rock it... but it still isn't yours. The obvious next step is to reach a 'state' where you start playing whatever you feel; An accurate description of this act would be :
"Transcription of thought into art".
Towards this state, i have been inching , for the past few years. Mastery over this state will be, according to me the ultimate achievement. For accurate transcription of thought into art, should imply the reverse from anybody's senses and not just the creator's.
The only problem with this, is that step one lingers, and rather stubbornly. We will always get back into a phase of 're-living' those moments through the thought-transcriptions of others. Step one is also a nasty and easy way out to instill a pseudo sense of skill. I stand by this belief.
It is this feeling that drives me towards solving a problem: something i cant see, hold or worse, explain. For music which has meant so much to me, it is the least i can do: solve the problem.
Follow my art to the end of my dreams, and then even more.
I cant even fathom what happens after step two, but i sure will pen it down, if i figure it out someday. But, by the looks of it, not someday soon.
Over the last one year, i wrote music, toiled, gigged and 'made merry' with a band. I believed that as a band, this would lead to a permanent detachment from step one...it nearly did. Unfortunately, this belief did not sustain. A band, no matter how 'skilled', may need to compromise, and go through reaping the myriad plastic fruits of step one in order to move on to step two; but as long as step two is in the cross-hair, the band will be. Even the focus doesnt matter...its just the direction...'for now', so to speak. Sadly no such thing figured in the cross-hairs. Fame is pseudo and subject to current trends in society, whereas true recognition comes only through original contribution...Recognition does not necessarily imply fame, and according to most people, a band can't survive on recognition alone. As defined by most people, fame for a band is not just a thrill, but a necessity.
I don't define a band that way.
Which is why i am in pain.
Mostly self-inflicted.
Refusal to accept.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Turn away the smoke, those questioning hands
"Too many words,
Too many lies,
Too many seeds,
Too many cries,
Too many thoughts,
Too many lights,
Too many times too many. "
- Plan B, Thermal And A Quarter
One year since the last post. Lots has happened...some worth mentioning, some not. In a nutshell :
One failed masters degree,
gazillion lost follicles,
one hefty student loan,
and upon acquisition of a few fantastic people as friends later, I'm back home... ...back to square 1, or 17-19ish, IF you take into account the EXACT anatomical details of a snake's digestive system.
Talking about digestion, processing thoughts to translate into blog-worthy entries has been tough (yes, as minuscule as they may seem,i have standards too), because every attempt at prose, resulted in poetry...BAD poetry. More like a severe case of writer's block coupled with poet's diarrhea. Poetic Kakkus!
On the 'bright' side, if it could be called that... i'm working again (ALL puns intended) and how!
Its a rather new department, which means things are'nt as sorted out as they should be, which also means, i double up as lab-attender, instructor, evaluator and wise-ass... all being very important components of enhancing the 'lab experience'... talk about schizophrenia...No, YOU shut up!!
So on a nice sunny saturday morning, i set out to 'procure' components for the coming monday's experiments. Say hello to the filthy streets of S.P Road, Bengaluru (which ussshole changed the name?) First shop i entered, filled with students and regular folks, it seemed, at the risk of sounding elitist, as plebeian as it could be. Then amidst this, in walks a trio, three cute lil chik-dees... full, with bounce in step, glint in eye, and mint in cud-chewing mouths. I must admit, apart from the obvious sexist tone ringing from this, this was not a scene you'd encounter regularly at an electronic component shop in S.P road... ie: a couple of fair-sexed engineering (i suppose)kids braving SP road junta and stepping into a nasty shop, to buy resistors and LEDs...'Wooh' i say, nice to see the love for electronics spreading.
It's ok that they were chirpy, and jumpy and made a huge ruckus in an already chaotic shop. It's also ok that they cut the line, and asked for their 'stuff' without caring for the rest who have been waiting (read 'Me'). It's also ok that they asked for a wide range of resistances, because they didnt want to bother about the exact values. But my marbles went into hyper-spin-twist mode when they asked for specifically the 'green' resistors, the lower power-rated kind .... for a moment i thought...
'Wow, these chicks want 1/4 watt rated resistors, perhaps for low power applications and for a compact feel to their overall circuit design....maybe its a low power micro-controller based...' When all of a sudden, while lost in my thought, i heard the shop keeper mutter 'INDUCTOR... that's a lil more expensive'
Completely piqued by now, about exactly WHICH circuit these chilli-pillies had in mind, i spiraled into further half-baked technical thoughts
'... perhaps its a tuned circuit, a filter of sorts...'
and i would've gone on thinking unless i heard this :
"...This will go well with the green salwaar..."
If i could recreate a screechy sound of a Long-Playing gramophone record being short-stopped, i would, here, at this point, when i heard those words.Also, noticing that the inductors and resistors had something in common... they were all green.
Upon further shameless eavesdropping, i discovered they were building a bracelet.... a green bracelet of resistors. WTF man!!?! How that bubble burst! Anyway, my 'teacher instinct' kicked into high gear, when i decided to tell them that zener diodes might help beautify their ornaments. However, i decided to cork my pie-hole, and let my partially numbed mind heal itself instead.
Still, a project's a project, i say. Electronic or otherwise. The purpose of any object is rarely justified by just its intended use. Sometimes i feel, art itself supersedes all else. The purpose of science and technology is just to further means to optimise enjoyment of the Arts. And then again, any field is an art by itself... sigh*
So i'm back now.... lots of figuring out to do. Lots of things to catch up on. Fortunately, i'm surrounded by people who care.
More soon, on music and other developments.
Too many lies,
Too many seeds,
Too many cries,
Too many thoughts,
Too many lights,
Too many times too many. "
- Plan B, Thermal And A Quarter
One year since the last post. Lots has happened...some worth mentioning, some not. In a nutshell :
One failed masters degree,
gazillion lost follicles,
one hefty student loan,
and upon acquisition of a few fantastic people as friends later, I'm back home... ...back to square 1, or 17-19ish, IF you take into account the EXACT anatomical details of a snake's digestive system.
Talking about digestion, processing thoughts to translate into blog-worthy entries has been tough (yes, as minuscule as they may seem,i have standards too), because every attempt at prose, resulted in poetry...BAD poetry. More like a severe case of writer's block coupled with poet's diarrhea. Poetic Kakkus!
On the 'bright' side, if it could be called that... i'm working again (ALL puns intended) and how!
Its a rather new department, which means things are'nt as sorted out as they should be, which also means, i double up as lab-attender, instructor, evaluator and wise-ass... all being very important components of enhancing the 'lab experience'... talk about schizophrenia...No, YOU shut up!!
So on a nice sunny saturday morning, i set out to 'procure' components for the coming monday's experiments. Say hello to the filthy streets of S.P Road, Bengaluru (which ussshole changed the name?) First shop i entered, filled with students and regular folks, it seemed, at the risk of sounding elitist, as plebeian as it could be. Then amidst this, in walks a trio, three cute lil chik-dees... full, with bounce in step, glint in eye, and mint in cud-chewing mouths. I must admit, apart from the obvious sexist tone ringing from this, this was not a scene you'd encounter regularly at an electronic component shop in S.P road... ie: a couple of fair-sexed engineering (i suppose)kids braving SP road junta and stepping into a nasty shop, to buy resistors and LEDs...'Wooh' i say, nice to see the love for electronics spreading.
It's ok that they were chirpy, and jumpy and made a huge ruckus in an already chaotic shop. It's also ok that they cut the line, and asked for their 'stuff' without caring for the rest who have been waiting (read 'Me'). It's also ok that they asked for a wide range of resistances, because they didnt want to bother about the exact values. But my marbles went into hyper-spin-twist mode when they asked for specifically the 'green' resistors, the lower power-rated kind .... for a moment i thought...
'Wow, these chicks want 1/4 watt rated resistors, perhaps for low power applications and for a compact feel to their overall circuit design....maybe its a low power micro-controller based...' When all of a sudden, while lost in my thought, i heard the shop keeper mutter 'INDUCTOR... that's a lil more expensive'
Completely piqued by now, about exactly WHICH circuit these chilli-pillies had in mind, i spiraled into further half-baked technical thoughts
'... perhaps its a tuned circuit, a filter of sorts...'
and i would've gone on thinking unless i heard this :
"...This will go well with the green salwaar..."
If i could recreate a screechy sound of a Long-Playing gramophone record being short-stopped, i would, here, at this point, when i heard those words.Also, noticing that the inductors and resistors had something in common... they were all green.
Upon further shameless eavesdropping, i discovered they were building a bracelet.... a green bracelet of resistors. WTF man!!?! How that bubble burst! Anyway, my 'teacher instinct' kicked into high gear, when i decided to tell them that zener diodes might help beautify their ornaments. However, i decided to cork my pie-hole, and let my partially numbed mind heal itself instead.
Still, a project's a project, i say. Electronic or otherwise. The purpose of any object is rarely justified by just its intended use. Sometimes i feel, art itself supersedes all else. The purpose of science and technology is just to further means to optimise enjoyment of the Arts. And then again, any field is an art by itself... sigh*
So i'm back now.... lots of figuring out to do. Lots of things to catch up on. Fortunately, i'm surrounded by people who care.
More soon, on music and other developments.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Holy Bitches' Bazookas Batman, its the IRRELEVANT RACIST!!
Do you remember Robin? yes... Robin... the yellow-tight'd , black eye-masked, red vested -- green sleeved, 'oxford' hairstyled with kakka loads of mousse, *deeep breath* , diplomatic profanity shouting, loud mouthed.... waitaminut, what do i have against Robin? poor, sweet, orphan Robin... short, caped, just missed the ballerina squad Robin.... Mister 'look-at-me-i-can-fight' Robin... ROBIN.... I HATE ROBIN.. actually, i hate side kicks... lackeys, sycophants... reason : increase of conversation during moments of triumph...
"Holy Smokes BATMAN!" -- "Holy Teeth Batman! look out for that axe" - -
"Holy 'holy' chanting lackey side-kicks Batman!" "Holy..." OH SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!! BASTARDBITCHSLUTCORNHOLED........ SHADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!.....
phew! glad i got that out ... its good to have torrets once in a while (yes i know Robin.. i too, sense the redundancy... so, BAIMUCHKONINNAJJISHAATAHODILAUDEYKABAAL!!)
Verbal diarrhoea apart, its a piss-off when someone keeps talking INTENTIONALLY during something important... whether it be at a 'save the world from racoon-masked hooligans' day, or something as mundane as class.... and i'm not talking about while i'm taking a class... i mean, as a student, sitting in close proximity to certain junta from the right-bottomed coast line of India. I've heard women talk... and its nice... annoying, but nice nonetheless. However, try sitting around 'mudhuh-teng' speaking, class-interrupting, perpetually confused and 'muttery' mouthed MEN!
POLESMOKINBUTTRAMMEDFUDGEPACKERS!!!!!! ...bleddy...
No.. not simple, succinct dialogues like : 'pass me the calci' ; 'giuew me the rubbar' ;
' Sign-off Selva's name aalsow da' ... nooo, instead... prolonged, monotoned, low pitched pitter-patterish incomprehensible dribble, that resemble the audal character of a potato-fed cricket's gastric emission ... and to say nothing about the smell!
This staunch display of outright disrespect BANG in the middle of a lecture, can be prettty humiliating, NOT to the assmunchingtongueflexers , but instead, to those who hail from the same country.... quelle chagrin mon ami! Yes indeedy, every time 'that' section of the class' decibel level rises... and i MEAN rises... heads turn, throats turn parch, brows frown, butts shift... and yet, they go on yakking.... not even the holocaust would tear them apart...
"Say, whats that loud noise?? - - AaahNevermind lah ... then, after he said.... "
BLOODY BITCHES' BAZOOKAS BATMAN!!! DO SOMETHING!
Nope, no hope.... they'll graduate, with their well oiled kapi gulping pie holes, continuing to drench the rest of us in their mind-numbing dribble, and typecast us as a cult of uncouth, toddler-attention spanned motor-mouthed tribal hooligans... yeesh! too much hatred!
On the other hand, which btw, isnt so full of shit.... I have recently acquired a motor Bike! yes... nice 200 CC, 18(?) BHP , Honda Phantom.... yes, EXACTLY my kinda super hero, no super powers except brute strength and 'Tiger-buddhi', has a side kick that doesnt talk(!!) , and whose arrival is always preceeded by drum rolls... of course, just plain drum rolls to the 'naked' ear. But armed with a babel fish, we'd all know what the Pygmie Bandar were beating away to... no wait, that didnt quite sound right...ah BOLLOCKS!
I miss The Phantom; among most super heroes, this guy COULD actually exist! Think about it.. house in the jungle, gorilla for a friend, Pygmies (with poisonned arrows!!) as patrons... WOW... I'd like to BE him! and the suit!! man! what can be sexier than Purple?? NOTHING! The suit's actually required for the gun-holster.... those magnifcent semi-automatics! Its not a knife after all, much unlike Lord Greystroke a.k.a TARZAN of the apes! YOWZA! He was good, but no Phantom, certainly no 'Ghost who walks cannot die'. Man, Tarzan had some weird sense of fashion... the number of leopard deaths, just to stock up the Lord's wardrobe... last heard, Lord Greystroke had undie habbits akin to a certain Boy-band drop-out, actress dating, Jacko dance-move-copying, piss-ass 'singer'.... this, certainly exacerbated the ill-feelings of the leopard populace of a certain coastal region of Africa,( more because of the increasing resemblance to the afore-mentioned 'pop' star )... and led to a very gruesome death of the Lord... may his soul rest in peace.
Now where were we?? ah yes... Bike!
The Phantom also rides a bike... way cooler than an elephant, and for many reasons...
* A bike handles well
* A bike doesnt stop to take a piss near its favourite mountain
* A bike doesnt HAVE a favourite mountain
* A bike doesnt want to charge another bike if its hitting on some other bike
* A bike doesnt have its balls where its brains should be
Anyway, about my ride...
Here it is :
Sweet lil honey... hope it doesnt act up on an expressway!
I know most men prefer to append a 'she' to their bikes.... not me sir, A bike is NO WAY like a woman!
* A bike handles well
* A bike doesnt need to hang out with other bikes and talk about their respective 'riders'
* A bike doesnt compare genitalia details of its rider with other bikes
* A bike doesnt ask for flowers
* A bike doesnt want to charge at you, if you look at other bikes' bottoms
Must i go on? Well, bikes are known to be more dependable than women anyway, so there..... Theres that sexist feeling again.... .....Go nads!!!
"Holy Smokes BATMAN!" -- "Holy Teeth Batman! look out for that axe" - -
"Holy 'holy' chanting lackey side-kicks Batman!" "Holy..." OH SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!! BASTARDBITCHSLUTCORNHOLED........ SHADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!.....
phew! glad i got that out ... its good to have torrets once in a while (yes i know Robin.. i too, sense the redundancy... so, BAIMUCHKONINNAJJISHAATAHODILAUDEYKABAAL!!)
Verbal diarrhoea apart, its a piss-off when someone keeps talking INTENTIONALLY during something important... whether it be at a 'save the world from racoon-masked hooligans' day, or something as mundane as class.... and i'm not talking about while i'm taking a class... i mean, as a student, sitting in close proximity to certain junta from the right-bottomed coast line of India. I've heard women talk... and its nice... annoying, but nice nonetheless. However, try sitting around 'mudhuh-teng' speaking, class-interrupting, perpetually confused and 'muttery' mouthed MEN!
POLESMOKINBUTTRAMMEDFUDGEPACKERS!!!!!! ...bleddy...
No.. not simple, succinct dialogues like : 'pass me the calci' ; 'giuew me the rubbar' ;
' Sign-off Selva's name aalsow da' ... nooo, instead... prolonged, monotoned, low pitched pitter-patterish incomprehensible dribble, that resemble the audal character of a potato-fed cricket's gastric emission ... and to say nothing about the smell!
This staunch display of outright disrespect BANG in the middle of a lecture, can be prettty humiliating, NOT to the assmunchingtongueflexers , but instead, to those who hail from the same country.... quelle chagrin mon ami! Yes indeedy, every time 'that' section of the class' decibel level rises... and i MEAN rises... heads turn, throats turn parch, brows frown, butts shift... and yet, they go on yakking.... not even the holocaust would tear them apart...
"Say, whats that loud noise?? - - AaahNevermind lah ... then, after he said.... "
BLOODY BITCHES' BAZOOKAS BATMAN!!! DO SOMETHING!
Nope, no hope.... they'll graduate, with their well oiled kapi gulping pie holes, continuing to drench the rest of us in their mind-numbing dribble, and typecast us as a cult of uncouth, toddler-attention spanned motor-mouthed tribal hooligans... yeesh! too much hatred!
On the other hand, which btw, isnt so full of shit.... I have recently acquired a motor Bike! yes... nice 200 CC, 18(?) BHP , Honda Phantom.... yes, EXACTLY my kinda super hero, no super powers except brute strength and 'Tiger-buddhi', has a side kick that doesnt talk(!!) , and whose arrival is always preceeded by drum rolls... of course, just plain drum rolls to the 'naked' ear. But armed with a babel fish, we'd all know what the Pygmie Bandar were beating away to... no wait, that didnt quite sound right...ah BOLLOCKS!
I miss The Phantom; among most super heroes, this guy COULD actually exist! Think about it.. house in the jungle, gorilla for a friend, Pygmies (with poisonned arrows!!) as patrons... WOW... I'd like to BE him! and the suit!! man! what can be sexier than Purple?? NOTHING! The suit's actually required for the gun-holster.... those magnifcent semi-automatics! Its not a knife after all, much unlike Lord Greystroke a.k.a TARZAN of the apes! YOWZA! He was good, but no Phantom, certainly no 'Ghost who walks cannot die'. Man, Tarzan had some weird sense of fashion... the number of leopard deaths, just to stock up the Lord's wardrobe... last heard, Lord Greystroke had undie habbits akin to a certain Boy-band drop-out, actress dating, Jacko dance-move-copying, piss-ass 'singer'.... this, certainly exacerbated the ill-feelings of the leopard populace of a certain coastal region of Africa,( more because of the increasing resemblance to the afore-mentioned 'pop' star )... and led to a very gruesome death of the Lord... may his soul rest in peace.
Now where were we?? ah yes... Bike!
The Phantom also rides a bike... way cooler than an elephant, and for many reasons...
* A bike handles well
* A bike doesnt stop to take a piss near its favourite mountain
* A bike doesnt HAVE a favourite mountain
* A bike doesnt want to charge another bike if its hitting on some other bike
* A bike doesnt have its balls where its brains should be
Anyway, about my ride...
Here it is :
Sweet lil honey... hope it doesnt act up on an expressway!
I know most men prefer to append a 'she' to their bikes.... not me sir, A bike is NO WAY like a woman!
* A bike handles well
* A bike doesnt need to hang out with other bikes and talk about their respective 'riders'
* A bike doesnt compare genitalia details of its rider with other bikes
* A bike doesnt ask for flowers
* A bike doesnt want to charge at you, if you look at other bikes' bottoms
Must i go on? Well, bikes are known to be more dependable than women anyway, so there..... Theres that sexist feeling again.... .....Go nads!!!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Emotional Transgressions....
It's really funny how a dream makes you want to write.... I started blogging because of a dream i had.... and I'm back again because of ANOTHER dream.... something that spawns over mud-wrestling and getting caught at home, with a chick in your bed... dreams... what can I say? hear more of mine and you'll be clearing out your insides PRETTY soon......
A LOT has changed since my last post. I'm neither where i used to be, nor WHO, nor with who i prefer being.... *sniff* I can go on cribbing.... and hey! thats EXACTLY what i'm gonna do!
Being in a new place, tends to screw up the head thoroughly! I'm quite sure I'm a certified racist! I cant help but judge the people around me. Judge them on their attitude, their language, their mannerisms, their....almost everything. And apart from judge, I'm beginning to dislike them...... who 'them' ? nearly all of them! Yep! I'm getting that Hitler-ish feeling..... extreme Lau for one's race. So, I LAU my race..... but what IS my race? I really dont know.... for now.... i could say... anything but Chinese.... man thats racist.... but i've established that already....so, moving on.....
At home, i've mingled with so many kinds of people..... people who speak different languages, celebrate different festivals, have hazaar varied religious customs... then what is it about one race here... that totally PISSES me off??
Why is it that i get pissed when i have to repeat myself here? I used to do that almost all the time back home... but here.... no! its THEM! THEY HATE ME!
Why is it that I'm always 'on-guard' and crazily wary of someone discriminating against me?
ALL IN THE HEAD! all in the friggin head! Nobody's against me... nobody's out to get me (at least none that I know of....) They just are like that.... dont like to look around.... like to give people their space... or do they? or am i just rambling on about weird delusional conspiracy theories.... you BET I am! Lets get onto more serious things....
One of my students asked me.... "...how are the 'chicks' there " ..... truly I say to thee...."Seen one...seen them all" ... No, really.... seen one....and you've ACTUALLY seen them all..... now THATS racist! Racist to the CORE! Either racist or my disability to distinguish between the oriental women....and many times, men too.... Picture this.....
You're sitting in a bus, and someone sits next to you....on your right.... then somebody else sits next to you... on your left.... and being Indian,( sheessh...theres that racist hum again....) I have to look around... so... what do i see? someone on my right.... someone on my left.... except that its the same someone on my right, with different clothes.... " were'nt you just...?"-- Then I look in front of me... WOWZA! same! move ahead.... ready to step off the bus... glance at the driver.... fingers crossed, eyes crinched, toes curled.... yeah! one BIG eye roll.... SAME!!! They're really out to get me!
This is really not funny, atleast to those who may find it..... I grew up, considering myself a reasonable person, with certain values and beliefs... neutralistic in opinions and views. But this just bundles my conscience into a tiny lil bag and rattles it around my empty skull till my mind tells me....
"You're a Fuckin RACIST bastard!!"
Wonder what my soul was doing the whole time....
As I see it, racism is a product of frustration, stubborn dejection and Ego!
yes.... ACTUALLY a product...so...
FRUSTRATION x STUBBORN DEJECTION x EGO
actually, more a convoluted product.... so....
FRUSTRATION * STUBBORN DEJECTION * EGO
See.... racism cannot exist with any of the above quantities (or qualities...same thing) being Zero....
Hopefully, I'll be able to throw more light on the above three.... not right away though...... yeah.... you can run, but you cant hide! or you can move the mouse to the lil 'x' mark on the top right corner of the page and click it... or click once on the page and press Alt+F4...that should do it.
So what made me obtain the 3 charms? Quite a few factors.... but one strong factor to begin with....
was THIS :
Just another day in a bachelor's filthy kitchen... I'm washing.... la-dee-da...
Cool tap....eeed'nt it???
Now WAIT-A-MINUT!!....what DO we have here??
Is it some curd ?
or is it some stain ?
its.... its....
...What the--?
Yep! Exactly.... " What the -- " only!
When the pictures built by your mind get blown to gad-zillion lil pieces by the harsh reality that surrounds it, dejection projects its magnificent shadow and takes you under its wing, where-in it can crap on your mind and fill your empty head with its flatulent produce.
... in other words...
... shit on your thoughts and fart in your head!
Wonder what your soul does at that time...
A wise person once said...
"Never hold your farts in.... because, then it travels up, all the way into your head... and thats when SHITTY thoughts occur"
How true! how PROFOUND and true!
I'll be back soon.... more updates on life, reason and beyond.
A LOT has changed since my last post. I'm neither where i used to be, nor WHO, nor with who i prefer being.... *sniff* I can go on cribbing.... and hey! thats EXACTLY what i'm gonna do!
Being in a new place, tends to screw up the head thoroughly! I'm quite sure I'm a certified racist! I cant help but judge the people around me. Judge them on their attitude, their language, their mannerisms, their....almost everything. And apart from judge, I'm beginning to dislike them...... who 'them' ? nearly all of them! Yep! I'm getting that Hitler-ish feeling..... extreme Lau for one's race. So, I LAU my race..... but what IS my race? I really dont know.... for now.... i could say... anything but Chinese.... man thats racist.... but i've established that already....so, moving on.....
At home, i've mingled with so many kinds of people..... people who speak different languages, celebrate different festivals, have hazaar varied religious customs... then what is it about one race here... that totally PISSES me off??
Why is it that i get pissed when i have to repeat myself here? I used to do that almost all the time back home... but here.... no! its THEM! THEY HATE ME!
Why is it that I'm always 'on-guard' and crazily wary of someone discriminating against me?
ALL IN THE HEAD! all in the friggin head! Nobody's against me... nobody's out to get me (at least none that I know of....) They just are like that.... dont like to look around.... like to give people their space... or do they? or am i just rambling on about weird delusional conspiracy theories.... you BET I am! Lets get onto more serious things....
One of my students asked me.... "...how are the 'chicks' there " ..... truly I say to thee...."Seen one...seen them all" ... No, really.... seen one....and you've ACTUALLY seen them all..... now THATS racist! Racist to the CORE! Either racist or my disability to distinguish between the oriental women....and many times, men too.... Picture this.....
You're sitting in a bus, and someone sits next to you....on your right.... then somebody else sits next to you... on your left.... and being Indian,( sheessh...theres that racist hum again....) I have to look around... so... what do i see? someone on my right.... someone on my left.... except that its the same someone on my right, with different clothes.... " were'nt you just...?"-- Then I look in front of me... WOWZA! same! move ahead.... ready to step off the bus... glance at the driver.... fingers crossed, eyes crinched, toes curled.... yeah! one BIG eye roll.... SAME!!! They're really out to get me!
This is really not funny, atleast to those who may find it..... I grew up, considering myself a reasonable person, with certain values and beliefs... neutralistic in opinions and views. But this just bundles my conscience into a tiny lil bag and rattles it around my empty skull till my mind tells me....
"You're a Fuckin RACIST bastard!!"
Wonder what my soul was doing the whole time....
As I see it, racism is a product of frustration, stubborn dejection and Ego!
yes.... ACTUALLY a product...so...
FRUSTRATION x STUBBORN DEJECTION x EGO
actually, more a convoluted product.... so....
FRUSTRATION * STUBBORN DEJECTION * EGO
See.... racism cannot exist with any of the above quantities (or qualities...same thing) being Zero....
Hopefully, I'll be able to throw more light on the above three.... not right away though...... yeah.... you can run, but you cant hide! or you can move the mouse to the lil 'x' mark on the top right corner of the page and click it... or click once on the page and press Alt+F4...that should do it.
So what made me obtain the 3 charms? Quite a few factors.... but one strong factor to begin with....
was THIS :
Just another day in a bachelor's filthy kitchen... I'm washing.... la-dee-da...
Cool tap....eeed'nt it???
Now WAIT-A-MINUT!!....what DO we have here??
Is it some curd ?
or is it some stain ?
its.... its....
...What the--?
Yep! Exactly.... " What the -- " only!
When the pictures built by your mind get blown to gad-zillion lil pieces by the harsh reality that surrounds it, dejection projects its magnificent shadow and takes you under its wing, where-in it can crap on your mind and fill your empty head with its flatulent produce.
... in other words...
... shit on your thoughts and fart in your head!
Wonder what your soul does at that time...
A wise person once said...
"Never hold your farts in.... because, then it travels up, all the way into your head... and thats when SHITTY thoughts occur"
How true! how PROFOUND and true!
I'll be back soon.... more updates on life, reason and beyond.
Monday, August 08, 2005
So, Uncle....hows the paper this time??
I got stuck with invigilation ...again. Maybe,watching over "lil" engineering kids answering an exam could be quite interesting, entertaining even. But try watching over someone 20 friggin' years older than you, write his 1'st year paper for the nth time.... you'd think after 'n' attempts....he might actually study this time, but noooo.... he has just devised a (n+1)th method to copy in an exam hall.
Since this was the last year B.U students could write their back papers at the college where they "studied" in, I was given "instructions" to let them copy.... something like.."..let them to refer the chitss...but dont letting them to converse..." eh???
also,"... ward should not move around in the class room" ....EH????
Thats what I was up against....so I enter the class room, and I see 23 people, very happy that I have entered the class.....somehow, word spreads quick....especially when the "word" is about the "kid" who's coming to invigilate today. One buldoo looks at me and asks..." Saar you want my mobile phone...?"...eh?
Yes, that would be nice,also,please ask your son to come back later...I know he's anxious about his father's exam,but he could get long, life-lasting emotional stigma!
One of them was from the 83 batch... EIGHTY THREE!!! I was just 2 years old then!!!! Its probably a nice plan....dude tries hand at engineering, fails missssserrrably...but does'nt want to give up, so gets woman pregnant and marries ...waits for child to join engineering.... then shares notes!!! then passes with flying colours... Alas! it is'nt a "flawless" plan. owing to a factor of "Syllabus Change"!!! also a factor of "probable divorce n no-custody"....
Coming back to me in the classroom....
...So I got tossed around the room....people walked in and out, passed chits, flung question papers out of the window...."why" you ask? so that their "accomplices"(or children,in few cases) could quickly "solve" the paper and appropriately XEROX certain parts of certain text-books, and then "smuggle" the solutions into the exam hall.
Yeah! Watching them at work was awessome!!!
In their defense...."We can't study anymore..." and "...My bakery needs me..." and "I have to get married, I really REALLY NEED a degree"...then really REALLY study!!!
They go all out, these guys...
Even booked the "squad"... that was fun....sometime in between, this huge punk...a cross between a doberman and an elephant's turd..... walked into the room...joined his hands and said "pranaam" to me... next minute he's busy collecting cash from each bozo in the room...."Squad-igey kaasu..." and one big grin..."adjust madkoli saar"
Great!...how'bout I shove a jackfruit up your arse???Yeah!...adjust THAT mo-fuckah!
Anyway, it was'nt that bad....had some fun too.... saw this 97 batch bakra, young n trendy...meaning just 2 years older than me...making him my "super" senior...
...so I walk up to him, watching him burn his answer sheet with answers straight out from some xerox'd notes... look carefully at him....
"You from Ramaiah??" I ask...
"Yeah...why?" .....at that precise moment my eyes brighten and ...
"You RAGGED me did'nt you?????HUH??"....
"NOOO.... I dont think so,...wait..are you mallyalee?? I only ragged mallus..." ...more scaring ...
"No, I remember your face...you ragged me when I was in first year....I'll never forget your face..." ...now he's a lil disturbed...visibly...
"Oh..er..I'm sorry, please dont keep in mind...okay? huh? please."...yeah...heheheh!
...well, as donkey would say..... "uuuunh!!!...thas NAAAYSTEYH!!!"
On the other side...there are dudes that really want to get thru honestly...
this one dude had 28 papers last year, out of which he managed to clear 15... now has 13 papers...And I'm helping him out with one of them....God Bless him! (Well that did'nt quite sound right)
Since this was the last year B.U students could write their back papers at the college where they "studied" in, I was given "instructions" to let them copy.... something like.."..let them to refer the chitss...but dont letting them to converse..." eh???
also,"... ward should not move around in the class room" ....EH????
Thats what I was up against....so I enter the class room, and I see 23 people, very happy that I have entered the class.....somehow, word spreads quick....especially when the "word" is about the "kid" who's coming to invigilate today. One buldoo looks at me and asks..." Saar you want my mobile phone...?"...eh?
Yes, that would be nice,also,please ask your son to come back later...I know he's anxious about his father's exam,but he could get long, life-lasting emotional stigma!
One of them was from the 83 batch... EIGHTY THREE!!! I was just 2 years old then!!!! Its probably a nice plan....dude tries hand at engineering, fails missssserrrably...but does'nt want to give up, so gets woman pregnant and marries ...waits for child to join engineering.... then shares notes!!! then passes with flying colours... Alas! it is'nt a "flawless" plan. owing to a factor of "Syllabus Change"!!! also a factor of "probable divorce n no-custody"....
Coming back to me in the classroom....
...So I got tossed around the room....people walked in and out, passed chits, flung question papers out of the window...."why" you ask? so that their "accomplices"(or children,in few cases) could quickly "solve" the paper and appropriately XEROX certain parts of certain text-books, and then "smuggle" the solutions into the exam hall.
Yeah! Watching them at work was awessome!!!
In their defense...."We can't study anymore..." and "...My bakery needs me..." and "I have to get married, I really REALLY NEED a degree"...then really REALLY study!!!
They go all out, these guys...
Even booked the "squad"... that was fun....sometime in between, this huge punk...a cross between a doberman and an elephant's turd..... walked into the room...joined his hands and said "pranaam" to me... next minute he's busy collecting cash from each bozo in the room...."Squad-igey kaasu..." and one big grin..."adjust madkoli saar"
Great!...how'bout I shove a jackfruit up your arse???Yeah!...adjust THAT mo-fuckah!
Anyway, it was'nt that bad....had some fun too.... saw this 97 batch bakra, young n trendy...meaning just 2 years older than me...making him my "super" senior...
...so I walk up to him, watching him burn his answer sheet with answers straight out from some xerox'd notes... look carefully at him....
"You from Ramaiah??" I ask...
"Yeah...why?" .....at that precise moment my eyes brighten and ...
"You RAGGED me did'nt you?????HUH??"....
"NOOO.... I dont think so,...wait..are you mallyalee?? I only ragged mallus..." ...more scaring ...
"No, I remember your face...you ragged me when I was in first year....I'll never forget your face..." ...now he's a lil disturbed...visibly...
"Oh..er..I'm sorry, please dont keep in mind...okay? huh? please."...yeah...heheheh!
...well, as donkey would say..... "uuuunh!!!...thas NAAAYSTEYH!!!"
On the other side...there are dudes that really want to get thru honestly...
this one dude had 28 papers last year, out of which he managed to clear 15... now has 13 papers...And I'm helping him out with one of them....God Bless him! (Well that did'nt quite sound right)
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