Pretentious Incoherence

519

pretentiousincoherence — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 12:16:39 +0000

By my calculations (and I don’t vouch for their accuracy – I just wanted a cool title !) it has been 519 days since I last posted.

Having said that, I’m spent. My creative juices are all drained out. I’ve hit writers block again. No wait :

someone in office has “I want to break free” as their ring tone. So we’re all sitting quitely poring and stressing over our respetive assignments and Freddie Mercury starts blaring out, It’s crazy ! it cracked me up initially but now i want to break free and bust open some skulls - NOT.

But it still beats that day when we had to listen to “om jaya jagdish hare” for a record 22 times (yes, we counted). It felt like I was back in the Rajasthani restaurant that I used to visit often in my college days.

Back to work before I get caught !

Roads

pretentiousincoherence — Thu, 18 Sep 2008 04:17:53 +0000

The only thing I’m looking forward to right now is a bike trip to the village of Kasol in Himachal pradesh. Every description I’ve heard of the place has floored me and few other things excite me as much as the great outdoors, especially when there is lush greenery, tall pines and streams snaking through the landscape leading you on to even more nature kicks. The place is around 900 kms away and will take two days of driving, first through the NH 65 and eventually the NH 1 with a brief stint on The Grand Trunk Road. Now, that may seem a hostoric prospect, but the truth about the Grand Trunk Road is that it is a 2 lane often congested road with a high frequency of irate truckers and bus drivers, the reason I say irate is that they think that two wheelers have no right of way on the G.T. Road. SO if you are on a two wheels on this road, do not be surprised to see buses hurtling at you at 100 kmph, on the wrong side of the road, and the correct response to this is not righteous indignation, not furious finger waving….take a leaf out of the “how to save your ass” manual, and pull up to the side of the road on the gravel and wait courteously for the bigger vehicle to pass if you do not want your last living memory to be how you would have tasted as an omellete. So much for the Grand Trunk road. Coming back to the trip, owing to the escalation of petrol costs and my low mileage bike, I must seek out a pillion, to share costs and for a fun time, hopefully. It is the going about of this exercise of choosing the pillion which is proving to be dodgy, I’ve thought about putting up notices….but that would be cheesy since i only want female pillions….so….I will write about it when a feasible solution presents itself. Apart from that there is getting the bike serviced and in condition for the long haul and of course buying spare tubes, spark plugs, bulbs and such.

I’ve been listening to a lot of piano pieces of late and I heard a really kickass one on The Darjeeling Limited OST, it is titled “Suite Bergmanesque” and is by Alexis Weissenberg.

“He said I’m going to buy this place and see it go
Stand here beside my baby watch the orange glow
Some’ll laugh and some just sit and cry
But you just sit down there and you wonder why
So I’m going to buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for
And I’m going to buy this place, that’s what I said
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head”

Thoughts of Arson and Coldplay…..watching it go all up in flames will be like catharsis….god i hate this shit hole. But i know I’m no bad ass, so for now, escape is my only alternative.

pretentiousincoherence — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 05:31:36 +0000

Just wanted to say I’m alive and well.

Simple Pleasures

pretentiousincoherence — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 08:19:29 +0000

Running out of class…after marking your presence

Lying in bed reading,j in hand and not eventually hearing a sharp knock on the door.

Cleaning El Caballero, getting hands all greasy and just when Ibegin to wonder just what it is I am doing, I see my face….now gleaming looking back at me from the shiny chrome.

Pump the iron.

A hot water bath, a joy I rediscovered at my friends place of late, nothing like heat to soothe a tired body.

RADIOHEAD !!!!!, sometimes when I’m listening to them they send me through such a vortex of feeling i dont know if should quit punching the walls and walk the walls, dance on walls, groove the walls. Right now there is a trumpet, watery base, a saxophone and the haunting croon that is Thom Yorke’s voice driving me crazy, it is certified INSANE.

6 : 15 am, only the occassional jogger and all that beauty of a new day….the immense possibilities of the day ahead rendered promising, even if in your head, by the silence, the sunrise, the chirping birds and did I mention that the jogger is bloody gorgeous ?

writing here.

The fact that there are people like Michael Phelps to inspire us with their 14 gold medals and 12000 calorie diet.

When you talk to a person after 6 months and hit it off without explanations or hard feelings.

Hot Water Fomentation.

Good Riddance.

and not to forget, a happy ending.

Peoples

pretentiousincoherence — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 15:45:08 +0000

Barcalounger

I’ve run into a person who likes the indoors more than the outdoors. Of air conditioners and comforters are his dreams and scoffs he at that lightly drizzling and dimly illuminated evening at the park, urban dweller.

M & M’s

Jughead met Ethel and wished he hadn’t, he liked her but was too lazy to go that extra mile, the only way they would work is if they were completlely obsessed with themselves, ethel thinking of jughead thinking of ethel and jughead thinking food that think nothing, it is just eaten, by jughead, backspaced into his processors.

Special

Special Almond Praline cookie

Special Prices at the B-N-T-O-store

Special Compilation – Radiohead

“I Wish i was special, you’re so very special”

Horace

pretentiousincoherence — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 14:20:10 +0000

my niece is in pain, she feels like she’s got an anvil on her head and is feeling rather burdened. She’s unable to sleep and my aunt has to stay up to comfort my niece, aunt in agony….She refuses to sleep with Horace, the smiling corpulent and cuddly tea bear, who can make her feel better about it, but she would not want Horace to see her this way, a groaning grimacing shadow of herself. If she only let comfort in, it’s not like my aunt in agony is asking her to pop Vicadin. She shivers all night, hearing the voices of her neighbours, they were laughing and were not in pain, and she did not understand drunk gaiety, so that made things harder. Horace is right there staring with his glassy expressionless eyes, looking comforting even from a distance.

Horace has had it, he can’t see my niece in pain !, he walks right up to her after inflating his chest and saddening his face ;

“Don’t take the vicadin…” he says “take an aspirin instead, or maybe a combiflam”

Her fortress is impregnable “no painkillers….I don’t want to be numb ! ” she says, and Horace is the kind who accepts defeat easy,

just ask my knees about it.

Realisations

pretentiousincoherence — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 08:42:24 +0000

Women love too much and they hold on to that love, no matter how much that love is tested, betrayed and stepped on; that resolute belief that love eventually makes everyone come around, be they the baddest of badasses, everyone wilts hopelessly when confronted with the fact that there is someone who accepts them for just who they are despite their : mistakes, arcid tongue, pot belly, promiscuity……and it does not matter if it is the gravity of the feeling or the or the burden of immense guilt that makes them come crawling back, either way they know they are in love’s unrelenting trap. Only the truly heartless dont find their way back home, a Ph.D. in ‘Studies of Stupid’ will help in this endeavour also.

I’m sorely tempted to put a lot of myself in this, but in the interest of privacy, I must refrain

Anyway, I feel like having a hearty laugh at a few misogynists and a few regular women oppressors, if someone threw in a couple of polygamists, my laughter will be rollicking at the delusions people labour under, it could also be denial they are labouring under. So, I just want to state a few things, and of course this is only an opinion…..

MEN NEED WOMEN MORE THAN WOMEN NEED MEN. WOMEN COMPLETE MEN TO A FAR GREATER DEGREE THAN VICE VERSA. MEN ARE NO MATCH TO A WOMAN’S RESILIENT LOVING

it is their biggest weapon, if you are so inclined to call it that.

Reading

pretentiousincoherence — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 15:58:25 +0000

Today was just the perfect day to read outdoors, a moderate cloud cover was threatening to give way at any time and it was the kind that never would. The sun city decided not to live up to it’s sobriquet and shielded us from those prickly cancerous rays of the sun ( living here can sometimes feel like someone’s put a magnifying glass above your head ) and then there was that gentle breeze, the kind that cause the leaves to rustle and the branches to sway reeeeeal gentle, almost as if it were caressing a woman.

When you live in a perenially hot, edit, perenially scorching furnace like desert city, those few days of respite are really appreciated. There is dancing, singing, getting drenched and it’s the world’s best mood alleviator, especially when everyone is occupied with soaking in each and every drop….literally and figuratively, and oh, that water tastes so good, manna .

Doggie Doofums came around while I was reading, never a frown with doggie doofums around. Doggie Doofums has large brown eyes that he uses to attract homo sapien attention, they work rather well and he is very promiscuous about it too, but everybody loves doggie doofums, everyone except the scaredy CATS.

I did not get to read much because of constant homo sapien interruptions, man, us humans and our incessant need to exercise our gobs, stoopid, shtoopid, shtyoopid.

I really want to catch a guy in a smiley costume and beat the living daylights out of him……I am one disturbed fella.

Where all I’ve been today,

pretentiousincoherence — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 17:56:57 +0000

It started off with opening my eyes seeing flashes of a dream I had been dreaming, an old friend in a new place, staring with hurt and accusing eyes, she was wearing bunny ears,resplendent in pink and fluffiness, completed the guilt trip, thank god she was not pouting. I am remembering more and more of my dreams these days so i wont vouch for my sanity much much later in life, but dreaming is fun, it’s like staring at the graffiti of your subconscience.

Food was next on the agenda, nothing to stimulate the taste buds….oh, it’s just another day, i had forgotten momentarily. Met a friend who cheered me up a little, and I really needed it at that time, the blues were engulfing me and forcing me to coccoon myself in loneliness. Lonely bites and sips with nothing but the monsters in your head, if that dont fuck you up like being put in a blender and the top being removed by the mu’ffucker who wants to see you splattered on the walls – RED and PULPY, nothing will.

Put in a few spoons of filter coffee in the percolator for the caffeine kick that would come 8 hours later, no, not because this is chemically engineered caffeine but because a percolator takes 8 hours to strain coffee afteryou add boiling water.

Then I ran into GEE ESS, gee ess gauged from my body language that i was happy about a woman, got me to tell him about it while not making me feel like he intruded an inch. GEE ESS then proceeded to give me clinical advice on how the demands of the situation are to be met in a most efficient, rational and painless manner. I promised GEE ESS some coffee, we chewed the fat for a bit and I let gee ess get back to working on the lecture he had to deliver to kids rendered starry eyed by his very presence. GEE ESS is one of the smartest mu’ffuckers i know.

Frederico Fellini’s movie 8 1/2 followed, with all it’s nebulous and aesthetic imagery, an entry will soon follow with my humble observations and thoughts on the movie. Proceeded to watch Madagascar, the hypochondriac giraffe just kills me, the dialogue of the movie however is when Marty the Zebra goes

“I’m 10 years old, and I don’t know if I am white with Black stripes or Black with white stripes ” and it is Chris Rock lending his voice to Marty.

I got more movies and fresh music today, very happy at the way my personal collection is growing, the only thing to do is to sort through, more like wade through all the new material, listening to the Nine Inch Nails album ‘with teeth’ right now…..’Only’ and ‘Getting Smaller’ are great tracks.

Another mentionable event is the company of 3 unhinged people, unhinged by what i won’t tell you…but it was fun. Unhinged people can never have socially awkward situations, the conversations get stupider with every innane cycle of them.

iLike……..

Now I am sitting here…cans on…isolated from the big bad world outside, amazed that you stuck around to read this in it’s entirety. THANK YOU.

Buenas Nochas.

Bengay

pretentiousincoherence — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 11:47:54 +0000

Ultra strength non greasy BENGAY pain relieving cream is staring at me, while casually leaning against the 483rd edition of Smart Photography magazine, the TAJ MAHAL is looking at me as well, through all that nasty air that;s ruining it’s marble. Cup with dire sexual warning engraved on it is staring at me, it’s saying to me

“KLPD”

An assortment of green and blue lights stare at me, BLINK….BLINK………BLINK..BLINK; they don’t run like the TGV, that reimburses your money when they are late. BORIS VODKA….oh god knows what sperm crazy bio scientist had done to it, it stares a painful forlorn stare with an equestrian Russian soldier (probably Boris himself) in full Rooski regalia, on the bottle with a sky blue and dark blue motif. Contact lens case, stares at me, mirroring it’s own shape, with an ‘L’ on one holder and an ‘R’ on the other holder, completing the mirror illusion….sinistro et dextro. Flapping paper stuck on the wall stares at me, it’s a list to keep track of who I’ve lent my books to, names stare out at me, names of great books by great authors with names of those I know against it, i should have gotten those books back by now. Glasses strewn with arms sticking wildly out, it is not allowed to ask for help now, is it ?, oh, my…. other…. two….eyes….

My lamp does not stare at me, the shade is bent, reminding me of a corrupt french public official on the guillotine, or a english gentlemen tipping his hat to you if you are less morbid, but what’s the difference ?, the two of them hate each other regardless.