I can't blog when someone's around.

One. Two. Three. Nausea.

I need a magic lamp. I think Aladdin was an ungrateful prude. Faggot.
The earth is wedged between thick chocolate milkshakes and used condoms.
I'm delusional, fuck off.

bored.

right then. here i am sitting next to abdul, who insists that i post something since theres nothing better to do. now that he's reading out everything i write and being an annoying 'spell-checker', i'm thinking this wasn't much of a good idea. hmmm. fuck him.

magnolia was good.
abdul doesn't know how to kiss.

Fever.

When superstars and cannonballs are running through your head

and television freak show cops and robbers everywhere

subway makes me nervous, people pushing me too far

I've got to break away so take my hand now

-love you.

thanks for being this amazing.

Skittle Sorting.

skittle sorting is fun!!!
i dropped so many of them, mani was going to kill me!
eheheheheh. =P

Sleep-high.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

oh and my baby's blog is YELLOW. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
i want more blueberry cheesecake.

Simon says...

I looked over the crumpled piece of paper just been handed to me, unable to understand what actually had been put down in words. Instead, my eyes land on the same word. Scribbled in a nauseatingly jittery writing, there it was, alone. 'Inhale'. So I did. It's so easy doing what you're told, exactly how you're told. Kind of like a game we used to play as kids. "Simon says, Inhale." So we did. "Simon says, jump!" So we did. There, plain and simple. Just do as Simon says, and your life will be a whole lot better.

Jump on a bed, jump on a bed. Your life's just brilliant, jump on a bed.

My dad gave us all letters one new year. I remember reading it over and over again. All the time when I'd be alone, or bored, or helpless, or alone. It wasn't much really considering i was only nine back then, just the usual "you're a great kid" and the "I know you'll do me proud one day". Or will I? See, here's the fucking thing that Simon doesn't say. Things that he really really should. I wonder if I am the person my father wanted me to be, the kind that would do him proud? So yeah, Simon really doesn't say fucking much now! Out of all the times when he was going jump, fetch, run, play dead and I fucking obeyed like a fucking cowardly house-dog, the faggots SHUT UP now!!! So, really...what DO you say now?

That letter really is the closest connection I have to my father. Even though I don't have it on me, I know it's back home waiting for me. I will always write to my children.

mush-monster, wuss? Maybe.

Sky.

A sky has no stars, no moons. It does not change color with time, it remains stagnant. The sky is the little itch you get beneath your lip while kissing, the sky is the ring stain on your polished coffee table, the sky is the baby blanket you grow out of but still keep in your cupboard, it's the lamented piece of broken glass clown you never had the heart to tell your mother you broke. The sky is a friend, the lover, the silver dust you wipe off a CD with your bum. It is the long spiral smoke string that escapes your mouth and nose when you breath too hard in the winter and it is the small, messily made plans on a starbucks table while you watch the rain.

The sky is not the sky you know.
The sky is the limit.

21 grams

How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams... at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?

i was sad the second time around too.. =(

'Thook Wali Billi'

thoook wallii billii,
thorii gillii gillii,
thorrii silly silly reh,
woh thook wali billii

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
cheap fuck she is.

"green green hills with the green green grass"

got this from abdul's blog.
makes a bit much too much sense,
for him, that is. =]

"Mmhmm I did it today. I rolled down a hill after such a long time. The sun was out, the sky seemed to have found its pretty blue dress again, the grass looked green and I couldn’t help it.
Ended up with loads of green stains all over my clothes but god was it worth it!!

When was the last time you did something really “fun” eh…? And please don’t call me immature like everyone else does… How do you define being “immature”… is having fun while not hurting anyone immature? going out with friends getting drunk every weekend and thus acting like idiots is very “grown up” is it. Going to cafes and drinking mochachinos is mature is it? Well fuck your “maturity”. Give me a green hill, a frisbee, a balloon anyday. I remember when I used to play frisbee at college with simon (i miss him soo much…) and people would give us that “look at those two twats” look… but there were also the ones that gave more of a “I really want to play with them… but everyone’s looking they’ll think im being immature” look… Stop caring what others think, there is nothing wrong in making yourself feel all happy by doing the things YOU want to do, as long as it doesn’t do anyone else any harm. Hell jump in a pile of leaves if you want to, if it makes you feel better. When did humans forget how to really have fun. Remember when we were kids and used to play hide and seek? How great was that, why doesn’t anyone ever play that anymore. Honestly, Id rather be in the company of my 9 year old cousin than be with some “mature” 18 year old. Fuck the norm, go out and do what YOU want to."

'<3' wtf?

okay, this is the farthest thing from a heart!
if anything, it looks like an underview of someone's butt.
if you look closely, it has an uncanny resemblance to mani's behind..hmmmm
anyway, its gay.

Nostal-fucking-gia

"Chuddy buddy,we're a sax couple.Sally should know that I'm your backup when we're 25(I'm only saying that cuz you and I know I'll most probably be married by then).Kudos to you for tolerating me for almost a decade now.To dancing in front of LUMs security cameras,being stuck in the wrong places at the right times,BDC memories that never seem to fade,and your *cough* leather jacket.I still think you have the sexiest teeth in the world=)."


whatayyy saskk. my 'one of the best people in the world'.
i feel lost without you.

Upward Over the Mountain - Iron and Wine

Mother don't worry
I killed the last snake that lived in the creek bed
Mother don't worry
I've got some money I saved for the weekend
Mother, remember being so stern
With that girl who was with me?
Mother, remember the blink of an eye
When I breathed through your body?

So may the sunrise bring hope
Where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds
Flying upward over the mountain

Mother, I made it up
From the bruise of a floor of this prison
Mother, I lost it
All of the fear of the Lord I was given
Mother forget me
Now that the creek drank the cradle you sang to
Mother forgive me
I sold your car for the shoes that I gave you

So may the sunrise bring hope
Where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds
Flying upward over the mountain

Mother, don't worry
I've got a coat and some friends on the corner
Mother, don't worry
She's got a garden we're planting together
Mother, remember the night
That the dog had her pups in the pantry?
Blood on the floor and the fleas on their paws
And you cried 'til the morning

So may the sunrise bring hope
Where it once was forgotten
Sons are like birds
Flying upward over the mountain

Ibu.

ibu likes momie mamoon more than he likes ahmad mamoon.
he's the only one.

...of broken shells and decembers of pain.

Let us walk down lanes with memories displayed in stores. Mannequins dressed in lightbulbs and shiny white clothes. Walk back to a time when sunsets were never perfect. Let us throw misguided birds unceremoniously into the sky. And when they collide, rainbows will form. Fuck the merrier half, and smoke half a pack. There will never be a you and I. Never.

Remember rusty morns when we burnt chocolate cakes. And tins of mushrooms we ate with our fingers. Go open your diary and read me a line, from a life we built together.

Tomorrow is a bitch and there will never be a you and I. Never.

Mr. Mo

a rather scandalized mr. mo at that. eheheheh. ;)

Hyde Park.

Psychobabble.

a butterfly buzzed around my head today, and the little chinese man i know smiled at me, aside from that things are quiet. Im broke. I find myself counting things alot. Weird what numbers can do to you.

*greeting card heart*

tinseltown pancakes and ice skating.
tall christmas trees with silver cardboard triangles.
love, served as a side order with toast and butter.
happy valentines day.

-

Such Great Heights - Iron and Wine

I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles
In our eyes are mirror images and when
We kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate that God himself
Did make us into corresponding shapes like
Puzzle pieces from the clay
True, it may seem like a stretch, but
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled
Head when you're away when I am missing you to death
When you are out there on the road for
Several weeks of shows and when you scan
The radio, I hope this song will guide you home

They will see us waving from such great
Heights, 'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away,
'come down now,' but we'll stay...

I tried my best to leave this all on your
Machine but the persistent beat it sounded
Thin upon listening
That frankly will not fly. you will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home

-

The Cat and the Canary.

this picture was taken at three in the morning. it was drizzling.
two guys.
big town.
and a camera.

it was a good time.

Bleh

Sitars have big bums.
Pink post-its are gay.
Pedro is not my friend anymore :(.

-

The Worst.

at night it's the worst.
i hear ambulances on the street and i start to panic.
it's so strange,
because i know the worst has already happened.

Bakra and Maasi 420.

miss you moti.

*bhangra*

ritika: you know you should really focus, you haven't done this before
mo: TOOTAK TOOTAK TOOTAK TOOTIAN HAY JAMALOO!!!!! BAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
ritika: *sigh* fine then.
mo: I wanna wear a dhoti! I'd look good in a dhoti, heina?
ritika: yes mo. *continues to make notes*

hahahahhahahhahahahaha. I love red bull. marketing lectures are BRILLIANT.
jamaica's capital is not timbaktu and I am not racist.

Chuggi the Chaukidaar.

bahahahahahahah. I don't know why, but this picture always reminds me of the way my chaukidaar would wrap up a 'chaddar' around his head in the winters.

oh and her real name is ZAINAB!!! eughh!
*makes scrunched up disgusted face like in picture on chuggi's blog*

-

Stains.

I am writing graffiti on your body,
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried.

Memory Lane Detours.

The Trapeze Swinger - Iron and Wine

Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range,
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention

=]

hawwww!
nangoo patangooo!! shame shame!
ahahahahahaahahahahahaha.
i miss being a kid.

can't sleep. buahahahahahahahahahah.
insomnia.

Fairy Lights.

I never felt magic crazy as this
I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea
I never held emotion in the palm of my hand
Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree
But now you're here
Brighten my northern sky.

love you.

-

Welcome To - Ani Difranco

welcome to:
no amount of stoned makes you feel okay
welcome to:
this year's alone - brought to you by Christmas day
welcome to:
the darkness into which prayin people pray

it's quiet here except for this song
now that everybody's gone
but hey
least you don't have to play along today

welcome to:
something like elation when you first open your eyes
just cuz it means that you musta finally got to sleep last night
welcome to:
the precipice between groundlessness and flight

it's quiet here except for this song
now that everybody's gone
but hey
least you don't have to play along today

London.

I'm a sucker for light trails.
*shrugs*

Clementines.

Starch white walls and mustard stained carpets.

You sit on small, dirt colored stairs on a street to prepare for dinner with your friends. In the process however you end up saying much more than you had intended. All that you wish you could've said but never mustered the courage to say. And your eyes align to a perfect level and you understand that she understands. Memories have been created. Memories, like ones you store in large used tin chocolate boxes being eaten away by rust and time. Perfection.

Some memories are silent memories. Ones where you could promise you weren't alone. Your fingers trace the surface of her face and the silence becomes another person sitting beside you. The observer. The friend. And you're always glad its there.

Three's a crowd? Fuck that shit.

-

Chichori Chipkali.

some people i tell you!!! CHEAPNESSS!!!
heart you, you fucking loud, psychotic 'champa haseena'.

*filmi eyelash flutter*

Personal Jesus - Johnny Cash

Your own, personal, Jesus
someone to hear your prayers,
someone who cares

Your own, personal, Jesus
someone to hear your prayers,
someone who's there

Feeling unknown
and you're all alone,
flesh and bone,
by the telephone,
lift up the receiver,
i'll make you a believer

Take second best,
put me to the test,
things on your chest,
you need to confess,
i will deliver,
you know i'm a forgiver

Reach out and touch faith
Reach out and touch faith

The Panda and Mani

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

whatayy gay one he is...

-

'The Strawberry Milk and the Kitchen Floor'

Here it is, my first proper blog. I usually hate doing this, putting down in words all that you feel or have felt or will feel or will never feel. The urge to relate to a song, the temptation of supposedly being in love, the desire to sit down in front of a computer screen and type endlessly hoping that someone might just read how eloquent you've been while you smoke stacks of cigarettes thinking of smart words and long sentences just like this one. But they never seem to think so, they leave cute, snide little comments making you feel just a little worse about yourself, making you feel that just when you thought you could show off your sleek, carefully chosen words to someone you care about and find that look of recognition or make your mother proud of you, you fail. Makes no sense, does it? Its words strung together, one after the other, just like they do in them books. Beautiful writing, Flawless expression and an empty soul. I want to have it all, emotions that would sell, a story that would bring tears to your eyes, a family that believes in you and a matcbox with a beautiful womans number on its back. And then someday you could hope to wake up beside her, look at her and think you made a mistake, and on others you wont wake up at all cause the bullets too deep inside your mind. Then you'll have a funeral, and they'll all be there, and she'll be talking to your neighbour and before you know it they'll be arguing about what color curtains would go with the new couch. Strange isn't it? I'm not even married, she's not even pregnant, yet I'm walking down the tube station with a friend figuring out a way to take the buggy down the escalator. Clean up your room, wash the dishes, watch your friend take pictures of clocktowers in the middle of the night, wipe the strawberry milk off the kitchen floor before your brother gets home, call your best friend and tell him you made out with his girlfriend, find a job and go jack off...

So here you go, my first blog, its not perfect, its not entirely deluded, not ramblings coming from a persons mind who was felt up by his teacher in eighth grade. Someday I hope to be a writer, someday i hope to be a friend and just one day I'll hope to be a failure...just so I can write again..

Here you go guys, let the name-calling begin...

moving blogs.

blogspot it is i suppose then?