NeeteniN

Remember Grawp? No? I feel like Grawp.
Anyhoo.
If there had been a proper institute for Occult Studies in the country, I would have enrolled myself. Because-  Beowulf would have been a very interesting subject of study if one was allowed the freedom of interpretation. Don't get me wrong, one is. Only one then runs a high risk of flunking one's semester papers too. If mechanised thinking is what you repeatedly encourage, why make such a fuss about the brain drain? Oh. And haa! haa! Your personal prejudices and  mental taboos make up your society too!
I am turning into a misanthrope if I wasn't one before. I always did suspect I had it in me.
Tell me why. WHY must people talk so much? Make a whole lot of unnecessary noise about things they do not comprehend. Verbal diarrhoea does not make you appear smart. Whatever gave you the idea? No, don't answer that. Star Plus and Sony did. Shit.
If the young cannot be converted the country does not stand a chance. No, wait I said that wrong. If the young can be converted, the country stands a chance. A good one. The demographic dividend is going to fall. So no surprise. We're running out of time.
As this happens, the apathy sets in. The hormones fall aslumber. I know that's not a "real" word. Define "real" word.
Honestly? I am going to delete this blog soon. Or make it not public. Or whatever.
This world does not appreciate subtleties. This battle is far from over.
I am taking this to the streets. And shouting into your ears until you listen.
You have to listen.

The Beginning

This is the end.

Question.

And then she asked, where all that anger went,
Well, it disappeared from the skin ..
Slipped quietly - deep within.

The Horror

I will turn nineteen in a little over a month. So we've already approached the end of our teenage, have we?
This is depressing. So very depressing. Yes, this is the post where I complain about how I absolutely do not like growing up. Its all well. Just the reaffirmation of certain things is a tragedy. Who wants to age and find out they were right about life all along when they were a sulking young teen, right? I don't. I don't like it. You find out how all the cliches you'd been avoiding like a plague? They hunt you down in the end. And attach themselves to you. Like they did to the others. Because, lets beat it, in a population of millions, you're just another disgruntled face. Same old story. And repeat. Repeat.
Perhaps, if you'd met with a different set of experiences. That hadn't been set off by the triggers they had. Because some or the other event had prevented these triggers to actualise. Then, you'd have turned out different. If that boy in the fourth grade class hadn't had that fight with his mother that day, hadn't spoilt her mood to provoke that tiff with his father she'd been putting off for ever resulting in their grisly divorce damaging him enough to act out on the first thing he saw after his drug-addled sister called him up to let him know in her cackly voice - You. You would have been different. Maybe, you'd have even retorted on his face if only you'd told yourself, believed yourself, lied to yourself that you'd have gotten away with it, without that ugly bruise on your face. We are truly the lies we tell ourselves. Its a lie the first time. Its half-truth the second. And then suddenly, it is, the only truth that could be called upon.
Oh. I am a struggling journalism intern now. Fack. The hierarchy that has developed progressively since when I was a kid to now, in the set-up really overthrew me. You're an intern first. If you can score that. For a few months. You're a trainee journalist next. For a few years. If you're lucky. And finally, and many give up mid-way, if you're really that good, and you're well-to-do/engage in other side jobs to sustain yourself, do you become a journalist. Just a journalist. Just the title. And that was and still is the start. Phew.
So not before 25. In any way. To count the minimum. Unless you're a hotshot, then you're "fitter" than us, the rest, to survive.
Shit.

Fuck This Shit

No, really.
I am bored. And tired.
And hypersocial at the moment.
Its like I am trying to talk to as many people as I can. Listen to all their stories.
But there is nothing new to listen to. And as soon as I start paying attention. I get bored again.
I am afraid I might turn into a hermit next. That is how high my mood curve has risen and stayed. For longer than it usually does.
Oh. And also I don't really think I appreciate all the affection coming my way.
All you've got to do to win people over, is lend them an ear.
The sadist too, must be asleep somewhere. Because the sobstories are no fun either.
Wow. I might have just described the beginning to Garden State and Fight Club. No shit.
0_0
Yesss. Its like I've drunk empty an ocean of espresso.
Fuck.This.Shit - I say.






(And lets get high)

15/21

5 other nominations.
Reference to one CR Election.
Seriously, I scare myself sometimes. The extent of my anti-social leanings.
I said anti-social. No, thats not the same as unsocial.
I think the people who do not like me do so with good reason. I just get along with everybody a little too easily. And none of them matter to me. Mostly. Thats a cold-blooded serial killer in the making for you.
Sheesh.
*Woot*
*Woot*

That girl with the sexy hair.

Um.  Hm. 
College is hectic. If only kids weren't lied to so often and conditioned to gradually accept the truth instead.
I love the library. Its filled with murals and sculptures. Dickens, Camus, Sartre and all these gothic novelists. Its my safe place. Its going to see a lot of me in the next few years.
"The Ludes"  deserved to be  more famous.
This time around, somehow, rainy days are different. I do not have time to reflect on the weather. Its a pity, really. I haven't gotten down to any literary work for so long a time. Except that piece for the newspaper. Here, I am supposed to say YAY. But that emotion too, has run its course.
*To Remember - Authoring is not quite the same as Journalism. When I write a story, I am allowed to show-off. When I report, the news is not about me. I am not allowed to overshadow my words. If my diction alienates my reader, I am a failure.
A lot of predictability is passing hands. I wear a lot of kurtis now. The Dark Knight was way better. Tobey Maguire is Spiderman. Garfield did an okay job too.
I need to get me that dog soon.
Oh, its raining now too. And I am going to sleep.
I had much more to say, that I can't seem to remember. Its nothing a li'l grass can't cure.
Did I mention I need an internship? Like hell I do. Get things on track. Walk it off.
Well.
Till then.

The 21st of July in the year the world was destined to end.

Everyday I wake up and struggle anew with the realisation that I am a college student now. And it makes me mad.

Its kind of a funny story..

how after you reach a certain age, your mental growth is mostly latent. No matter how many books you read, how many movies you watch you can almost visualise your grey cells  swimming around up there. And they do not multiply.
Infact, they drop dead, like kids overdosing on street meth at an otherwise innocuous rave party.


When you reach that moment of clarity, you want to die. Because you realise that no matter how gargantuan the amount of suffering you endure, life gives you little compensation. The gain is nearly non-existent.
The existentialists? The absurdists? They got it right.
The answer is there is no answer.
That beggar child, smiling upto you, on the other side of the half-lowered car window. You will never feel happiness quite like she does.
Your semi-privileged life is almost a curse.
I say almost only because I am not completely the ingrate you make me out to be.
Everything you thought you could escape from as a teenager. You really cannot.
There is no escape. It is what it is. The years make it bearable. You build up a tolerance for all the crazy ape-shit that makes up civilisation as we know it. The pause button is only applicable for stoners and burnouts, other such social outcasts. And life goes on. 
Till one day, when your sole purpose for waking up is to go right back to sleep again.
You die.

It rains, sometimes.

I had an awful lot to say.
To vent.
To whine.
Make an exhibitionist ragdoll of my anger and sorrow.
But the good, the bad, the ugly neutralised itself and left me with nothing to say.
The last few days have taught me more than I could have imagined possible.
I knew I was naive, despite everything, at some primal emotional core of my being.What I never gave a thought to, however, was that this naivete was not only restricted to my sentimental experiences but encapsulated the whole of me.
I must be broken.
Believe me, I am.
I suppose all my friends think I'm in a dark room somewhere with the windows boarded up, self-medicating. And I am. Inside my mind. Outside, I am shopping for a 'new life'.
I have a college. A good college. I have the course I wanted. A lot of people wanted.
Most people do not even have that. Right?
Then why am I not happy? Well. I suppose because I never really gave a shit about Anna Hazare. Or whatever the heck. 'Corruption'.. 'Reservations'.. were all pretty words I learnt from my Political Science textbook.
Until my classmates from different streams altogether started buying themselves seats people like me deserved. And colleges stopped bringing out 'official' second lists. Until I heard of how an acquaintance had been college-hopping with a recommendation letter from  the State Education Minister. And people whu tok lyk ds got into the college I'd prayed ceaselessly for. Prayed to a God I knew didn't exist.
Social capital is a priceless possession, capiche?
Calcutta, you have let me down.
But I will survive. You hear me? Tomorrow is another day.

Dobby,

You  have a nice day. x]

0_0

It is not my fault that your boyfriend/ex-boyfriend/friend-with-benefit/whatever the hell is showering more attention on me than he is on you.
Your blah blah blah is an ugly fuck.
Nice. But an ugly fuck, nevertheless.
I can safely say that I'd be risking my sanity if I have to go to an all-girls' anything after spending 14 long years in an all girls' school. And this is precisely the reason why.
Girls are pretty. [You are not] But they're just TOO MUCH DRAMA.
To be around, all the time.
I'm majorly fucked up and that's probably why I don't have normal reactions to events like most people do. And if you haven't become immune to people blabbering behind your back after having spent so so long at a girls' school, then what have you learnt, right?
I guess I was never programmed to care about hearsay. Well, more win for me. Sucker! =D

We don't all get to be wise.

If we did, we would have a world of the wise. And wisdom would be another chipped rock in the dustpile. Or perhaps, even less.
Should have listened to my instinct. 
There really is nothing left for me to do right now, except admit defeat. Or hope. Which is worse.
I don't know which is worse. I know nothing really at the moment. 
My brain is overworked. And my body cannot deal with anymore anxiety.
I could not have imagined that I could fuck up this bad.
The truth is my ego is forbidding me to admit my naivete.
This is the most inferior I have ever felt. I can't even seem to get on with the mundane activities of daily life without doubting myself.
I need the next week to transpire as early as it possibly can.

YAWN

I am exhausted. I am.
All my admission tests are over.
There's relief, and fear, in that realisation.
SXC Second List, don't be a bitch.
Please.

Shaddapp, everybody.

By that, I'm asking myself to shut up really. More than ever before.
Everyday, I walk into a college with 2-3 thousand hopeful students. And their another thousand teary-eyed parents. And I am scared. I am scared than I have ever been before.
To know that you're competing against thousands is one thing, to see them in person is another.
It adds up to less than 1 seat per 100 candidates.
Not that I had any self-esteem to begin with. But everytime I walk in through one of those lofty old gates my self-esteem is pretty much under the soles of my shoes, as I drag my feet towards wherever it is I have to be.

Copy/Paste.

A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.A decent college,please.

Born This Way

I think it might finally be time, to go underground again.

You Call It Trouble.

This is not my picture.

That cathartic moment
when you find yourself
saying "I love you",
to random people
in your vicinity
Because you're drunk-
That is the beauty
of the drink
It undoes you
not just your tongue.



And I am back to being a happy drunk too. =)
College is going to be great.I have a feeling.

Finally

Three things happened.
To make me very happy.




- SWK. Slutwalk Kolkata.
Screamed ourselves hoarse. Made new friends. And felt like a family.
I'd keep reading about this feeling of emancipation and exhilaration an activist experiences.
Believe me, you, reading is all good and everything. But some things cannot be duplicated.



- KKR won.
Its not so much a big deal to me that I support the CM's move to spend oh-so-much more on an IPL Tournament win celebration. But its big deal enough that I spent all evening before aforesaid disastrous Boards Pol. Sc exam watching them lose. Cried myself hoarse again. Loyalty is a touchy issue with me. Grudges. Vengeance. All of that.



- 90.75%
I still am shellshocked. Everytime anybody discusses my score or even if its my own fingers doing the typing into college application forms I feel very much like the individual in Camus's "The Outsider". All morning I'd been praying for it to be anything but in the 70s. Even 85 seemed distant after I was done with the rigmarole. I went to the theatres to watch multiple movies whilst they were on!
Pol Sc. did me in, obviously. If there's anything I know, I know my worth. 72 -_-




I am going to dream big now. My kind of big. And state that I'm hoping my next destination is JUDE.
But defeating 4000+ Booker Prize Nomination reading, Soderbergh watching students should not be taken lightly. At any cost. I tell myself. Or try to.
Think I might just have enough time to read up translations of Homer.


I'd like some luck.

=)

Please
dont'
fuck
me
up
tomorrow.
Oh.
And
KKR
won.
Godammit.
Fine-ally.
Also,
intending
to
make
my
lungs
suffer
tonight.
Its
just
for
a
little
while.
Hush.

Its not me. Its the Political Science paper.








*Lights flicker on*
Alien voice (presumably coming from outside my head) - Why are you talking to yourself?


-




Why am I talking to myself?




*O DEATH- Ben Titus*

Uh.

• Shit scared about college. When all the toppers in the class are worried.. you just know there's good reason for you to be too.
• WTF is wrong with you, CBSE? Just get them out already. I'd rather know than not know. Always. Not knowing kills me.
• I might be onto something grown-up except I don't really know how to be grown up. And its not like I can say that I'll learn over the end of this year. I know I will not.
• I need a lot of cash to snuff my materialistic dreams and make me feel alright.
• All that bullcrap non-smokers give to smokers.Let me get this clear.I hear a lot of excuses doing the rounds.There is no way anybody can get addicted to smoking dry  cigarettes.Nuh-uh.If you know somebody offering that as their 'why' they're either completely pathetic with their lack of self-esteem or have nil willpower. And that is that. There really is no two ways about that.                  -________-

Any Day Now

You can convince me. But I can't convince myself. I can't stay in one place for too long. See the same faces. Listen to the same sermons. I can't subject myself to a broken existence. I am young. Still very young. To suffer broken dreams. And bitter compromises.

A Lovenote to Marilyn Manson

I was 12. I heard "Mobscene".
I'd stood on my toes and hoisted myself up to reach the top shelf of that Planet M store.
It is no more.
I was disturbed to think I'd picked a reject copy of the cassette.
That'd happen sometimes.
But all the other songs played well.
I heard Oasis for the first time. Pity the first song wasn't Wonderwall.
**


I was 14.
Racing in my friend's car down the highway. On the passenger seat.
Left, behind.
The windows were rolled down.
Back then, I did not care how my hair looked. Any at all.
Now, I do, 40% of the time.
"Evidence"
A friend had put it on her playlist.
Later I'd come to befriend that friend.
But before that I'd come home to download it into my ears.
**


Sometime post 15. "If I Was Your Vampire".
Then the whole of "Eat Me Drink Me". Then Wiki him. What a sweet name
I already knew who Charles Manson was. Or Charles Sobhraj. Or Ted Bundy, for that matter.
Nat Geo Serial Killer Docu's were thrilling, and highly educative. Maybe the wrong sort.
Education, it was, nonetheless.
**


Now, I'd rather have history lessons by him. =]
His new album released on the first of this month. And everything has now been transferred to the phone and replayed more than 3 times. In that jungle of songs.


Enjoy -

Fecund

Sometimes I wake up with a word in my head that I have no recollection of. It doesn't go away, it keeps prodding me to make sense of it. And then I open the dictionary with its innumerable word-slaves. And surprise myself with its relevance to the context of my present. The human brain? Its funny.

Heat Rashes.

I feel like a bad person right now. And I feel surprisingly calm at having reached that realisation. Dexter calm.
I am cruel. And hurtful. I lie. And manipulate. And after having said that, I don't see anything wrong with me. I am not sorry. Not one inch.
I am not even in a bad place either. Recovering from a really bad head-ache, but that's about it. So that's all I had to record I guess. This would be one of my twilight moments. And I mean nothing associated with the lame merchandise. Or dying. So get gone now. Off you go.

And obviously like most great things, Wye Oak too is little known. No wonder.

I still keep my baby teeth
In the bedside table with my jewelry
You still sleep in the bed with me,
My jewelry, and my baby teeth

-Civillain,Wye Oak.

Two dollars in my pocket
three inside my skin
that burger I'd bought
is settled safely now within.
Unless I feel a misfit
I'll be stuck here in a spot
well-rooted to your halo
like a dirty little dot
and if you think that I'm damned
well let me tell you - I've seen the light
instead of being comforting
its a burning globe of bright
and what use is a pillow,
all the medication you can avail?
the bad dreams they are heavensent
come they will, without fail.
If I were you I'd walk a mile
then quietly walk some more
see all there was to see,
watch and learn,
open my eyes & walk out that door-
then atleast I'd know that even when
there was no meaning to be found
I searched for mine
instead of buying theirs, 


queuing on a line.

F & D.

"I wish I could find something
to make me feel better
a drug or a drink
something that would make me think its all OK.. "

I have a theory.Rather idealistic.Yet brilliant.It could seem absurd at first.But it all manages to add up.So sample this -


When two people fall in love with each other they appear to know each other deeply, at a more profound level than possible using ordinary methods of communication.They successfully meet each other halfway at that mental plane intersecting their conscious and unconscious mind - the pre-conscious.So they may know things about each other that even their friends or other close family members are not aware of.At the same time they may be completely ignorant of the other person's reality.Because their individual reality is then overshadowed by their shared reality,which really,is in their minds alone.Now, this may be why on breaking-up, the two people involved experience a rude awakening where they finally wake up to the other person's individual reality and recognise no part of it.Also, why countless heartbroken men and women across the world tend to describe their exes as 'acting weirdly' or 'acting like a stranger' after the break-up.This results from not having thought it important enough to come to learn of the the other person's conscious reality.Having chosen instead the connection at the pre-conscious level to sustain all else, which one finds is no more, after the relationship has run its course. 

So basically, the hurt ensues from being left absolutely nothing from the imagined 'all' one had accustomed itself to.This perhaps is also why two lovers are able to build back their relationships by successfully transitioning into friends, if they had originally started out with a friendship.They were already aware of their lover's portrayal of their conscious selves. Even after breaking up, they still retain that preliminary knowledge which provides them with ample structure to build back friendly relationships upon.

Kate Moss/Pete Doherty

I'd have referred to Sid Vicious and Nancy.
But I decided to stick with something more this decade.
Chris Brown/Rihanna is just excessive physical violence for me.
And Cobain of the infamous Cobain-Love duo belongs to Club 27 now. So l'm going to let him rest this one out.

Idiot-Boxing.

Indian Television growing up,for me,does not mean watching Ram Kapoor turn the heat on and get all touchy-feely with Parvati bhabhi.Oh hell no.I do not want to watch middle-aged balding men coochie-cooing with their menopausal spouses. -_-
This on the other hand has me hooked
 |
V

Sneha Khanwalkar is such an inspiration. =]
We need more people like her.

Cinema Nouveau

Love gone wrong.
Nobody understands love quite like the French do.
When it comes to sentimentality,they are unquestionably the masters.And rightly so.

On a seemingly ordinary Sunday afternoon:

It was a dreary old cathedral town.Her lover was away.They'd made a promise to each other.
 She'd send him letters everyday.
One day the mailman found none to deliver.
He'd crossed the porch in two strides.And through the window of hope,
he thought had opened up,
he saw the reason why. 






#FirstEver55FicAttempt =]

Don't Even Try To Pretend You Care

Don't confuse a non-issue into becoming an issue.The real issues get lost amidst the crowd of hankering 'causes'.There's a million things wrong with this world.Learn to let it go.Don't make it worse for those struggling day in-day out to bring about changes so minor they do not catch your eye.For they have a cause that needs addressing just as much-even if you fail to see the significance of their existence.It is simple,they exist.Despite your likes,so concerned to root out every possible evil from your world.Your world.Enamoured with the glorious cause.Inside your bubble.Riding your air-conditioned car,to a protest walk you have organised on a social networking site,for the people in your friend list,one day.After which you will hop right back into that chauffeur-driven fancy automobile,ride home after having made a pit stop at McD and discard that righteous cause for the next one trending online.Tell me,do.What is it to you?Really?An embellishment to your already shiny career profile?A more convincing case to finally get up and walk those pounds off?Or is it a chance to meet them multiplying virtual friends?Admit it.Your personal agenda.Or are you fake enough to just live with your uninspired farcical actions?

SBTRKT

What you've done, what you've done you can't keep inside

By the end of the night I'll help you confide

Cause I can see, see your sad self

Cause I can see you're not being yourself

Cranking It Up

This is my earthquake song.

Not trying to trivialise the whole climactic situation around the world. A tsunami in the Bay of Bengal and Calcuttans or *khik* Paschimbongans(?) are as good as more than six feet under. But here it is. So crank it up,motherfucker.

And YAY (x infinity)

But that deserves a post and more on it,later. Right now I am rather preoccupied with real people really living it up like its the last day of their lives.

And oh oh. Beer+Vodka+Rum ... and still sober? 3 months of being a sage. Then this. What does a girl have to do to get drunk around here HUH? I am going to hit you with an answer when I return from my monthlong joyride.

Waking up with a cathartic nightmare has never been more fun.

=) \Being Alive/ This is why I didn't kill myself all that time I felt suicidal at 13.

Remember This Song?

                       



so this is goodbye
cause I can't be living a lie

Positive Reinforcement

Learning is facilitated better in the presence of a reward system.
So here is mine.

I think I'm going to take a printout and tack that up on my wall to keep me motivated.

Jumping off a great height feels like the most pleasant proposal to me at the moment.But I think I will wait.For this.

Only if things go as planned.

Now Playing - Whataya Want From Me by Adam Lambert
Listening to pop music when I'm stressed out of my mind is a routine around here.
Till then.

Things I've learnt this week.

Some people are not worth shit.

I've been writing a lot of poetry lately.And since the exams are rolling around that's going to become a constant. Yay? And oh. Watching movies. I can't believe I hadn't watched "The Graduate" this long.One word-Superfucktastic.

Something to think about v

Hello darkness, my old friend 

I've come to talk with you again 

Because a vision softly creeping

 Left its seeds while I was sleeping

 And the vision that was planted

 In my brain still remains

Within the sound of silence
In restless dreams, I walked alone  

Narrow streets of cobblestone 

'Neath the halo of a street lamp 

I turned my collar to the cold and damp 

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash  

Of a neon light that split the night  

And touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I saw 

Ten thousand people, maybe more  

People talking without speaking  

People hearing without listening  

People writing songs that voices 

Never share and no one dared 

Disturb the sound of silence
"Fools", said I, "You do not know 

Silence like a cancer grows  

Hear my words that I might teach you 

Take my arms that I might reach you" 

But my words, like silent raindrops fell 

And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed  

To the neon god they made  

And the sign flashed out its warning 

In the words that it was forming  

And the sign said, “The words of the prophets are written  

On the subway walls and tenement halls 

And whispered in the sounds of silence"

So young, so conceited.

I can't believe he killed himself.
I remember the first time we bonded,over our shared loved for Cobain.
I remember the glint in his eye,the sun shining on his face.

Convalescence

Download this mp3 from Beemp3.com

So I am going to finally devote all my time to my 12th grade syllabus now. Hoping some college will forgive my condescension and actually take me in. And even though I have a bad case of writer's block .. lack of inspiration..yadaness.. I will try to come up with a Dicken's inspired short story. Which is a heavy task seeing how Great Expectations is my favouritest ever novel in this whole wide world. -_- And Gulzar saab editing is an overwhelming thought enough to wrap up my allovertheplace ego and find a place to quietly disappear to. 

PS.I really need to find a way to get rid of these mental shackles I have been subjecting myself to for some Godforsaken reason. 

Anyway,have a good one ya'll.Much love.

Mundane

The 23rd Psalm

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name' sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.

I am not doing well.But I will not attempt to explain my condition in words.

The thing with language once you're acquainted with it is, you can manipulate it. And it starts to gather embellishments of its own. It lacks honesty.

I could really do with some honesty at this point.

I am yet to read The Bible. But the above, I hear of all the time pretty much, in some way or the other. And I love it. For no reason at all. Or perhaps,the vivid imagery. Yes, more likely so.

Also, I'm thinking I'll go into hibernation for sometime. Haven't done that in so long it ought to feel strange. I shall though, its about time.

Yes. Thats it. Keep well. Miss me. I guess.

Whatever.

Reading - Notes From Underground.

Last Watched - Sherlock Holmes -- A Game of Shadows

Listening to - SoKo 

And now.. taking a break. Ttyl. 

When you don't know better ..

I can't give it up
to someone else's touch
Because I care too much..




^Stuck in my head. Infinity-The Xx.

Howl

Suck my soul out

set it free

its stuck somewhere

in my oesophagus now

waiting for the wind

to push it down

pull it up

liberate it

set it free

come now,part your lips

let it flee.

Is it my fault that I could practically gnaw and rip off somebody's clothes now?Fuck.Sub 10 degree temperature.Us bongs feel cold soon.We take our mittens out when the calendar says its November.How am I supposed to study like this?EVER?!
And that was no attempt at poetry.
No,sir.I do not have the patience for that right now.Infact,everything lately has been very on-the-spur.
I need to bathe in Old Monk.I do.

One dreary after noon.

Oh hello,there..

Didn't mean to interrupt you-

Do you see me?

Then don't look away

Don't hide your face

Why I am life too

I am death.

Rowlatt

I put ink to paper
You put a gun to my head
I put ink to paper
The paper's splattered with red
See,just like my friend at the radio
I heard you sliced his tongue out
And did you think that'd silence him?
Then listen,
Can you hear revolution shout?


Because it kept raining incessantly.Cold hard drops.Of melancholy.And I had to distract myself.And the History textbook wasn't really doing the trick. x_X

I'm sorry,what did you say?

I thought you were talking to yourself again

ruled by the ghosts inside your head again

resigned,again.

I'm sorry,love,were you talking to me?

when you looked out the window

I thought you had ceased to be

Lost up,in the sky somewhere

Swimming among the clouds up there

What did you see?

For the love of Purple.

Pre-Boards. Weekend before History. 2 days. 3 books. Damien Rice,Keane and Kalbela.
Perhaps,some things don't change for the better.
All I want to do is hide from the bogeyman under my blanket. After I've taken a few shots of vodka. And my mind is reeling with absurdist prose. And a secret yearning to hold you close.