I want to be atop a bus, and feel the air whipping across my face, and look at the sky, and hug my knees.
I want a tattoo, and I want to bear the pain. I want SLEEP. I want to be THIN. I want nice hair. I am DEPRESSED. i fucken hate this post. I DON"T want this post. IT's typically emo and rant-y- and that is not even a word. I want Moll. I HATE so many people it's not funny. I hate that pesky neighbour staring at me every night as I smoke, I hate those hypocrites all over the world, i hate that woman because she is such a control freak, and i even hate YOUR mentality because damn you life is bizarre AND IT DOES NOT WORK OUT THE WAY IT DOES INSIDE YOUR STUPID STUPID HEAD. And yes, I smoke up! You have a problem you little sissy mama's girl?


-stamps feet-


tantrum over.

Book tag. lalala. (Stolen from Priyanka)

Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror?


Sci-fi - No.
Define " fantasy"
Horror, sometimes.

Hitchhiker or Discworld?
Discworld, haven't delved into yet. Hitchhiker i used to like.

Bookmark or Dog ear?
bookmark.

Asimov’s Science Fiction or Fantasy & Science Fiction?


Zilch.

Alphabetize by author, Alphabetize by title, or random?
Higgledy Piggledy. :D

Keep, Throw Away or Sell?
Keep. Keep all.

Keep, dust-jacket or toss it?
Keep.

Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket?
Harry Potter. :D :D

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?


Depends entirely on the book.

"It was a dark and stormy night" or "Once upon a time"?


Both.

Buy or Borrow?


I buy every year, borrow every week. :P

Buying choice: Book Reviews, Recommendation or Browse?


Browsing plus own choice plus a few recommendations here and there.

Lewis or Tolkien?
Both.

Morning reading, Afternoon reading or Nighttime reading?
Mostly Nighttime, often afternoontime.

Standalone or Series?
Standalone.

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard? (dunno about the nobody though)
Curses in Ivory : Anjana Basu
The Worlds within her : Neil Bissoondath
(Bet Me : Jenny Crusie)

Top 5 favorite genres of all time?

No genre in particular. I like bits and pieces of everything. Except perhaps Science fiction.

Top 5 favorite genre books?
Bhallage na. Genre Genre korcche. A few random books I like:


My Family and Other Animals : Gerald Durrell
Alchemy of Desire : Tarun J Tejpal
Peter Pan : J.M Barrie
Short Stories: Marquez
After Dark : Murakami
Five Children and It : E. Nesbit
Danny the Champion of the World : Roald Dahl (plus others)
Ladies Coupe : Anita Nair
Adrian Mole : Sue Townsend
The Unbearable Lightness of Being : Milan Kundera
The Lord of the Rings : Tolkien
On the Road: Jack Kerouac
Short stories: Truman Capote
Numbers in the Dark : Italo Calvino
Mrs. Craddock : Somerset Maughm


( lots of Agatha Christie and Enid Blyton and Ruskin Bond.)


Currently Reading?



Hanif Kureishi : Midnight all Day
Milan Kundera : Farewell Waltz
J.D Salinger : Catcher in the Rye
(plus a "cheap thrill" romance. hee)

I love tonight. Just the perfect blend of headiness. Wine, cake, an empty house, vintage jazz, lovely little moments with the self, and thoughts inside your head. How simple it is to be happy. I am warm, and sleepy and I can hear my toes purring..*happy sigh*



"Love me love me love me
Say you do
Let me fly away
with you
For my love is like
the wind
And wild is the wind

Give me more
than one caress
Satisfy this
hungriness
Let the wind
blow through your heart
For wild is the wind

You...
touch me...
I hear the sound
of mandolins
You...
kiss me...
With your kiss
my life begins
You're spring to me
All things
to me

Don't you know you're
life itself
Like a leaf clings
to a tree
Oh my darling,
cling to me
For we're creatures
of the wind
And wild is the wind
So wild is the wind

Wild is the wind
Wild is the wind "

Things are absolutely crazy, and i should really not write anymore, because it is pointless, and extremely so. 
Weddings are quite enjoyable, only if you don't have to spend an entire evening walking around in stilettos. And taking them off out of sheer frustration and then getting yourself pricked by random sharp things lying around. Also, wearing a blazer over a beeootiphool saree because it's freezing. 


The lack of sensitivity bothers me a lot, and I should have known. I so should have known.


pause drama.

The Works.

yes, another december. Exams are finally over, and i can make lots of plans. I don't think all of them will be executed, but the joy of random planning! I plan to-


> bake sinful chocolate cakes
> travel to the peace house again
> run away for a day
> finish reading around seven books lying untouched
> steal a friend's camera and take chhobis
> write a script with the ranabir
>spend alone time with the boyfraand if he has the time
> grow my own weed.


This is a tentative list, subject to alterations. Also, digression- IIM Joka fried Maggi is brilliant. =D

Epiphany.

I have just realised the pleasures derived from a hot shower after relentless studying. The rich lather that covers every part of the self, the fragrances of soap and shampoo, the mirror, where you can draw with your fingers...aah! This, my friends, is nothing short of heavenly joy. 


=D

Ideate.

Do you like the fishes? =D You can name them you know. Post your name ideas pliss.


Cheers,


Choi.

Soup and more soup. And a knot of anxiety inside your stomach. Films, in between, perfectly in harmony with a twisted head. Memories of a room, and the boundless excitement in the fragrance of your breath. I long, like a poet's dream, I long for you.

I am very very ill. I cannot really think about exams because that'll not help. I am inside a box, and swirls of idonnowhat's are floating around my head, and I am being unable to express, extract, socialise, solidify. It is kind of miserable. youknow? 

You just wreaked havoc on my lovely lovely day. And i cannot even blame you.

Dear God please help me concentrate. I keep reading things NOT a part of the syllabus. Please let me not be distracted.


Also, please cure nausea. And send me more "cheap thrills" and you know what that means.


Choi.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Yet again, college has screwed me over. That is not new, but it'll be old very soon, i fucken promise!
I have this detestable urge to shop when all i should do is just save, save, save. Smoking is such a clandestine affair now that i am home at all conceivable times of the day. Obsessively eating garlic bread, and i want to be silim and tirim and be in a filim. not really. you know, am merely testing my typing speed! Also, People I love  -a sudden list because i am sudden and it is exam time! Bug, HotShot, Waool, Bun, Itchi, Sleazyboy, Earth, Ching, OldnewTwin, the onefrom whom i never get separated, The Applegirl, Ar, also, AS, RD, JSB, UN, Brotha!, DrumSrum, Priest, Soberone( you guys are fucken family) ,hotelectrician, thechineseball, mads, prapa, and oneliitlegirlihaveadopted, fatonecuss. And many more. if your name is not here, it is inside one of my pockets in the HEART. 


All you need is love, love, love...love is all you need. Yes, mister it is a true!

 It is infinitely depressing as to how things change and how they might change. I love the smell taste molecule hair smile. I love every little bit that composes you, makes you so special. I wonder how I am so selfish and unselfish at the same fucken time. It's confusing. Everything that is you, makes me want to want you more. I want you every moment, and I am a little lunatic that way. 

Nothing seems to matter as fury, firmly held in check, threatens to shatter the deceptive calm of your senses. It is only very very ordinary to feel guilty after ravaging any concerned person, or object. 


The more I think about it, the more I do not want to leave, especially because I have this big huge lean mean bug of a reason, and it breaks my heart to even try and wonder about the consequences. I should be clever enough by now so as to completely not submit to nonsensical bullcrap but tragically enough I can never ever be that clever.


Met old friend after ages. Time flew out of the window, as bathed in the neon glow "sensual" (haha) light of her room, we reminisced about idiotic escapades, high school bitches, letters, fights and other such tyrannical things that are so eighteen. (Readers should know that I just stopped myself from scribbling a venomous sentence, ahem, deleted it) So, it was brilliant. Lots of cola float, lots of cigarettes, lots of food, lots of feeding cats happened in between. We have promised to meet soon, as the hiatus was too big the last time. 


I end this post now.

The Bun left for Bombay today. Bitch. Made me sob my heart out. I will miss you a lot, lot, lot. Who'll go to Sudder Street with me, buy those thirty rupee tees off the road, binge on lemon tarts? Also, who will make random noises and sing along with The Moldy Peaches,  and giggle uncontrollably and make the weirdest of discoveries post one joint? Who'll organise and wash hands, and control freaks and what on earth will happen to Wallrush?? Also, idiotic fights and gossip. Come back you idiot, things will be okay, and we'll be on the road again. I love you my mad-bad, pineapple slut. 


=''(

Haha. I was PMS-ing like a bitch. Also, typing last bit of term-paper. Tummy still upside-down. Went and cribbed and sat around at ju today- not bad all in all. Now, in favourite boxers, looking forward to re-read Anne of Ingleside. The weasel-like prof apparently bitched about me in class today, not that I care as I was suffering from cramps and sitting at the poolish canteen, sipping lal chaa. Met favourite curly-headed prof. who warned me about the ill-effects of weather change and asked me not to smoke too much.


have to attend ALL classes from tomorrow. Shite.

I want an insane amount of things and it's only human. Just realised after short, telephonic conversation with friend that term-paper can be submitted day after. Intense joy. Woke up at 3 A.M yesterday to puke, and spent whole day pining for chocopie as the area around my navel throbbed with pain. Tea without milk is blessed. Wallrush happened to be "bigger and badder" as quoted on social networking site by someone i don't know. Hoping Bun keeps her promise and I get to choose whatever I want.

Pining for carnal activity and a few hours with ST in solitude. Only the wretched wolf-like ugly grandma gets in the way. Mean, yes, and right now absolute refusal to be the proverbial "nice girl"

Went out in pitch darkness to buy cigarettes, and happily enough met no curious evening-walking neighbourly face. Only the light from borrowed cellphone, a little-eaten moon in the sky and the regular cries of crickets kept me company.

Time to light another cigarette and visit the loo.

The quintessential pre-winter post.

It's almost wintertime again, and already I have started fantasising about new books to read, lying curled up inside my favourite quilt, in the tangy beautiful winter sun. And I am longing to walk around a lot, dreaming of things which will never happen, and spending afternoons at my favourite third floor, on a favourite pillow.

As I was walking rather languorously towards workplace today, I had a nice little reverie consisting of bits and pieces of childhood winters, sticky bowls of Horlicks, and other things which disappear like those waif-like strands of smoke from a post-lunch cigarette.

I love my city too much to even think of such lazy winters elsewhere, and yet there's a distant, very faraway voice( though am rather suspicious of it) which tells me moving out will be an adventure which is a necessity. This sparks off a series of arguments inside my head, so, I shall refrain from pondering.

I do not, absolutely not, have the world sussed out and my heart does not break over that.

It is the season's fault that I am compulsively dreamy, and dangerously susceptible to mood-swings and seriously scatty, so people, please warn me (if you are around) when am crossing the road, or reaching for the salt tub instead of the sugar tub(when cooking). Also, if you have been talking for over ten minutes, and my eyes glaze over, you know whom to blame. =)

Cheers.

sudden little trip.

when lonesome, eat a lot, and drown in self-pity.

choose your corner, and read your book.

remember Anne, remember fairy-dells and sigh.

yet again, pretend to ignore the world, and suffer.

it's cold in here because everything is unusually quiet and i miss you being far away . everything's a whirlwind and am tired of being everyone's sunny girl am tired of thinking and being anxious. i have crawled inside and now i refuse to budge but i need you come back to me fast it's weird because am not used to this and i need you fast fast.

All Time Dang!

1. So much to know. So much so that I lose track and wander off.

2. I sincerely want everyone to come back. Come back people, and run in circles again.

3. Though I often mention that I am "sick of prioritizing my life keeping you in mind", I end up doing only that.

4. New songs trailing behind me.

5. The trip to the peace house was fabulous( no pictures, sorry, because everyone assumed that everyone was going to carry his or her own camera, and no one did, ofcourse!)

6. The city often overwhelms me.

7. Stranger, take me to Woodstock, please?

College is so despicable, that I thank my lucky stars every morning when I peek into the drab, drab mournful office and catch a glimpse of "the" curly mop.

Heavy.

This is not a good time. All my defenses are falling apart. I am completely, obsessively letting my better senses fly out of the goddamned window. I do not feel like meeting new people. Am suspicious, paranoid, and upset. (i hate myself right now, as i am complaining) All the happiness i felt is just dissipating, all the memories I repressed, they are all coming back. Worst, i feel unwanted. (though it is not true, and please do not think that am a hardcore attention seeker, because am actually talking to myself)

I am giving everyone a hard time, and I am so so sorry.

But worst of all, I am giving myself such a hard time.

Everything will be okay again, right?

Toads, Toadesses, Colours.

Ignore the title. This is because I couldn't think of anything else.

well, so, perfect happenings, ohsonice happenings.
Magic Wallrush2, full of beautiful people, explosive concepts, ooganess, booganess, lots of weed, and happiness. I dipped my palms in paint, and wandered. People fascinate me. all kinds.

Bought new books. And now, the hot afternoons are full of words. Haruki Murakami is just brilliant. I can't have enough of him. Also, The Dharma Bums, Peter Pan, my very own copy of On The Road and of course, Roald Dahl. =D

Gravy Theory got featured in FUCKEN ROLLING STONE MAGAZINE. OOh LA LA ! xD peopleses who love rock music and them who love GT, get your own copy! Am so proud of the boys. xDD And check www.myspace.com/gravytheory , if you don't know what the sound is like.

I love Park Street, and i always will. yes, of course, I digress.

thatisall.
Till then, eat your spinach. Peace.

Miracle of sorts.

I long for last spring, and I know I can't have it. Maddeningly beautiful weather, this. I am trying to make a garland. Last monsoon, new stories cleaved to the rain. And every time I closed my eyes, I saw roads. This time, I long for the blues. It's a different season, but the songs still make me sigh. This time, I close my eyes, I see trains, I see you- slipping away, I see us- observing pointlessly. I sleep close to you- this close. .our noses touching. The leaves are a glittering green today, I would love a conversation on our usual gibberish. I long for that one corner of your mouth like last spring, and I long to stare unflinchingly at you and kiss you bravely, standing on my toes as the shocked pedestrians grumble. Last spring will always be a poem, and i'll always long for you and that special, enchanted time, like an intangible childhood vision.

Please sigh.

The point is that i have stopped writing. Am not saying that am a fantabulous writer. my poetry is inane and weird and too fairy-talish and i rant. But then, this is my blog, so am allowed to do that, i guess. Plus, I have been very busy lately. No, reellly. pliss to believe me. Not fucking around. Attending classes with grit and precision. Not abusing the administration in college. Working. Teaching this kid, who stares and yawns,and is a chatterbox, and is really bad with his prepositions.But he is cute and chubby. Am just there, as always, a little lost. A little detached. And a little mad. Holidays make me happy because i can catch up on sleep, and i can go to the joo when i want to and just be there with the boyfriend. I went through my insane, angry phase, and M was rather amused and irritated. And i did pester my favorites. heh. sorry. i love you all.
Bumble called out to me today as i was walking down the stairs. She said :" Hello Brightness!" That made my day. Ignoring the fact that i was wearing a very bright kurta(which is pretty, in its defense) how can you not be happy when you are being labelled as brightness itself? okay, am a little spoilt, but i do love it. I want to be the princess. And i don't want to grow up, in particular.

Home.

There's something so comforting about familiarity.something warm and nice and cosy.
And I have become so used to that.so used to the pink walls with the graffiti,so used to the little balcony where there is no dearth of sunshine,so used to the music,the bed,the smell of smoke,the happiness,the little stolen joys,the togetherness.
It's hard to let go.

Cuckoo Song.

This is a season of madness..of raw sunshine warming your toes..the green wind of a tangy city blowing inside you and when the thought of going away never leaves you.
you discover the unfurling of a wonderful newness.this is a season of yellow dust and insane laughter inside a yellow car,of lessons learnt from children with adorable smiles.
all you want to do is sit atop an old piece of junk,in midst of all the rubble and stare at the sun.
think of careless glances,walls.envy.
think of this mad season.
you admire the shape of a leaf,trace its contours and think of history,of stones inscribed in an unknown script and the strange loop of writing bothers you to tears.
you need faces.
you need stories.
you need that brightness back.
you need to dance in the dust.
you need to choose.
you wonder why mornings are so different from evenings.
you miss a language,so alien and beautiful.
do you need a new name?

Sail.

It reminds me suddenly of pyramids.Of unspoken events.Calendars with every day crossed out with red ink.When i look out,i find an empty teacup,marred with the imprint of a trespassing boot.As i put these things together,I am reminded of a girl who wanted to write stories,sleep in a bunker and flee from gunshots.In a twisted way it reminds me of her valour and ambition.NOW,it reminds me of a cork.in a precious way,it reminds me of adventures I longed for,as printed words overlapped with summer holidays.Some random smell reminds me of the first death in my world.The wonder with which I stared at the cold,slight body or that one,crooked tooth which popped out,amidst all the flowers.Or the bitter quarrel,as an aftermath.It reminds me of a popular aunt with whom I experienced a much-criticised film.In a vague way,I understood,with the sudden insight of an eight-year old.Intense sorrow for the different engulfed me.I wonder why it angers me to hear a shopkeeper reprimand me.For consuming my choice of meat.And why I smile a week later at his fake apology.

I fear it might break one day.I fear I shall split into two pieces from all the smiling.I wish i could paint absurd figures and let it all out.And smile wisely as people judged,and discussed and smoked a cigarette or two.

HAha.=X

yes that is Dear God smiling evilly at me.was that sentence an oxymoron?hmm.*ponders*
in any case,do you have ANY idea how difficult it is *not* to scratch a piece of your skin when its demanding and frantically pleading with you to do exactly that??I guess the unlucky victims *are* aware.On top of that,people are telling you constantly NOT to scratch when all you are doing is staring longingly at that vile,tiny prick of a boil.AND,your favourite people are miles away.and you can't catch a glimpse of them.And its WINTER.The city is throbbing with festivities and music.Our college is celebrating One-fifty years of GLORY,for Pete's sake.And You can just stare at the mirror at your erstwhile FACE,and wonder if this fascinating ugliness will EVER leave or not.Its not good.Thank you God,that ze parents are such wonderful creatures.*love*
Though both of them squabble about stupid things..despite me telling them that they resemble some old potty-faced crabby couple.*sigh*And I want to watch Slumdog Millionaire.I read the book by Vikas Swarup three years back.Poor thing.I heard he is really upset that these biggies are ignoring him,though.=\ *Silence*

*WAILS*
*WAILS LOUDER*

I miss Pookie(i need to hold him close and sniff his hair and laugh with him and see him smile so bad)(cheese indeed)I miss M(you KNOW,am dependent on you too honeybun).and O.And The Idiotic Shreo who keeps on lecturing me.idiot.I know EVERYTHING,logically speaking.But I don't WANT TO be PRACTICAL.i love you though.(lovestruck and all heehee)I MISS the entire jing-bang.='(

anyway,before i sign off.*melodramatic sigh*,i shall leave you guys with this:

=::::)

and this above mentioned squiggle is a smiley WHICH represents my spotty smile.heh.xD

First Page.

It"s tempting to let it all flow past,but impractical.The year has started,we are all confined to "the" routine.No attempt at resolution-making,because its futile.Frames have to be learnt.Jobs have to be done.And as I travelled the hippie road,things seemed new.Loony bin is there,with our heads sticking out.Give us all some peace.


To another beginning.
of rich warm colours.
keep knitting.
peace.