The Gift - 1/23/2004

He is a man who loves to write. Reams and reams of paper fall
under his pen as he writes. The people in the town call him the
count. I'm not sure if he really is a count but he's the richest man in
these parts and I guess that makes him count. He also funnily enough has a
single minded obsession with paper. The count owns land and on the land is
timber and gigantic timber mills. Paper of every size and colour is
available to the count. He writes and yet nobody I know has seen his
writing. People say his house is full of reams and reams of paper. All his
writing in that shade of grey. It would probably be quite tough to read
though. Grey ink I mean. It is said that the walls inside his house are not
walls at all but mountains and stacks of paper. The count is
surrounded by his own words.

When the count is greatly pleased with someone, he gifts them a page of his
writing. It is rare that the Count is ever pleased. His gifts are rarer
still and awaited with eager anticipation. I know a few people that have
recieved the gift from the Count. Unfortunately, they can't tell me what it
is that the Count writes. You see, upon readng the words of the count, the
reciever of the gift goes berserk, eats the paper and then
becomes catatonic. It is said that the Count is a man of great charm
and refusing his gifts is simply not the done thing. So now, people accept
graciously and then bury or burn the pieces of paper. Some have found their
way to a police station and the one psychiatrist who read it is now a guest
at the looney farm down by the river.

I've been working for the Count since I was 7. 64 long hard summers have
passed and I have heard that the Count is greatly pleased with my work. I
am a humble gardner but the Count was pleased with the cacti crop this
summer. 64 long years of waiting and finally, today I recieve my gift from
the man himself.

I am pleased. I have always wanted to know what it is the count writes and
grey ink be damned.

Welcome to the Slaughtergarden - 1/21/2004

I finally bought myself Sigh's brilliant Imaginary Sonicscape. This album
is just so damn good its quite unbelievable. The Slaughtergarden Suite is
one epic piece of work and the different moods all just put a smile on my
face. Sometimes a happy smile and at times a sad smile but damn, this is
brilliant.

Yesterday I decided to pull out a few of my old AR tapes. The tape I
finally decided to play was Fetish 69's Antibody. A wierd and strange listen
and the first listening to this tape in a good 3-4 years. The music is noisy
industrial mixed with some bizzarre guitar noises and the occasional
ghugging groove. I know next to nothing of this band. They are from Austria
and they released Antibody on Nuclear Blast but apart from that nothing else
is known. I'm going to do a google search on this band. Imagine the links
I'll get for "Fetish 69." The anticipation is so great that the results are
bound to be a let down. This is another tape I need to get on CD
soon.

Pulling out my old tapes and occasionally listening to them is still a
great joy. I need to gt so many of tapes on CD that its just not funny
anymore. Thank something or the other for Django Music. (http://www.djangomusic.com)

Sleeping through Armageddon - 1/20/2004

What did you see before the world went dark
?

One brief glimpse at Armageddon

?

What did you see, or did you sleep
?

Did you sleep through another Armageddon
?

What did you see before the world went dark

?

I always like leaving a space between the word and
the question mark but that damn Microsoft puts that horrible green
line when I do it.

A bright sunny afternoon. A girl wearing a
white shirt and bue denims walks past me. The Sun is blazing.
Incredibly bright but a cool breeze blows. A dog is lazing at my feet.
It yawns and looks at me almost demanding more biscuits. The biscuit
lady though is not around and the dog will have to go hungry for now.
The Sun is blazing down. I cannot keep my eyes open anymore. Curse the Sun
and all its light. The Sun continues to blaze down. My shades are of no use.
The girl in the white shirt is only a dim vision now. I close my eyes
to block the Sun. The silence on this road hits me now. Complete silence. I
cannot even hear the dog panting. I open my eyes and look down, the

dog
is gone. The Sun continues to blaze.

I turn my back and walk away. Armageddon is
here, armageddon has passed me by. I may have slept through an Armageddon

or
maybe its all in my head and I'll wake up soon. Damn, that dog was
cute. I wonder where he
went.

I can hear the dog following me now. It seems we
have bonded. Yep. Here he comes. I ruffle the top of his head even as
he playfully snarls at me.

The sun continues to blaze. The cool breeze gets
stronger. The dog is carried away in a powerful gust of wind and is
gone. It was good while it lasted although I should probably have made
an effort to save him.

So I walk on and Armageddon has just passed me
by.

Salvation Denied - 1/19/2004

Lies, treachery a bag of tricks

Dead mosquitoes, cigarette ash, Sloth a favorite sin

Water in a dirty glass,

Ruptures on my skin, within, without

Salvation Denied

Buckets of bile, why?

Because I can, I want, I must

Salvation Denied

Fly me so high

So high as to curse the sun.

Burn my eyes? Enough fire around

Salvation Denied

As soon as things settle down here, I'm going to take a vacation. A
proper nice long break. This could be as early as next week. A good 10-15
days away from work. I don't think I can take much more of this. Sit at home
and do absolutely nothing till Mom gets sick of me and then go out and drink
coffee by the litre. Thats all I want to do for some 10-15 days. Hopefully I
can convince my boss that its this or a nervous breakdown.

I will soon be getting myself a new car. Daddy dearest is buying me
one and I cannot complain. In fact I have no choice in the matter. Its a
frigging Scorpio. Only a complete moron would argue with that and my daddy
don't have no morons for children. Look at it and drool Dear Diary.

Of birthdays, food, plants and a lot more - 1/19/2004

Another wasted weekend slipped past me. It feels like the year so far has
just been travelling from one weekend to the next and partying. Thats all
thats happened in the first three weeks and I'm getting a little tired of
it. I think I'll go back to being a weekend warrior as well. This daily
business is getting me down. No more parties for some time too. I think from
this weekend onwards I'll just sit at home and catch up on some reading and
music and maybe do a small coffee scene only. I think.

I used the garden to grow a plant

Doing Mother Nature’s good work

No plants in the garden they said

And took them away

I used a pot to grow a plant

Just by my own peaceful self

No plants in the pot they said

And cruelly, so cruelly they took them away

What must I do now mother?

Buy a farm before I can

Grow my plant in peace.

This weekend was dedicated

to
the totoman. His birthday is today and the party to commemorate it just got
over. I am still recovering from two days of complete hammering. Saturday
was brilliant and a grand time was had by your's truly. The booze flowed
freely and that little smoke was divine. Brilliant fun till the menon
decided he would rather sleep in the car and snore while he was at it. The
journey home was not much fun and Gary Moore's "Still Got The Blues (For
You)" was stuck in my head as I kept singing out the two lines I know
non-stop from Fanoos to home. My sincere apologies JP and olo.

I have discovered that eating
4 shawarma rolls from Fanoos is not a good idea. If only I knew what I was
in for the next day, Dear Diary. I never would have had all 4.

Sunday was brilliant fun too
but that submarine is the work of the devil. Its dangerous man. DANGEROUS.
Again on Sunday, dinner at Empire's became too much. OD'd on food we were.
Completely and utterly wasted. The grilled chicken yesterday though was
utterly brilliant. It was cooked to perfection. The thali too was pretty
damn good except for the icky tasting fruit salad. The Tomato pickle was a
nice touch.

Overall, another fun weekend
but like I said earlier, I think I've had enough of these for some time.

Happy Birthday Tots and I
hope you have a great year.

Haven no more - 1/16/2004

The bells continue to ring. I have given up my search for the truth.
Perseverance was never my greatest trait. Give me convenience or give me
death. Death is not an option and the bells are anything but convenient.
Therefore I will take the only road open to me. Escape.

Last night, I saw this shadowy figure sitting beside me. I kept
getting this feeling that I was not alone in my room. Strange. I've never
hallucinated before but yesterday's happenings reminded me of an incident
I'd almost forgotten. A sudden breath of air on the back of my neck even as
I was covered up in a blanket and all alone in my room. Like somebody came
real close and blew it at me. That was unnerving. The bells are unnerving.
The shadowy figure in my room that seems to be reading is even more
unnerving.

I do not know what to make of all this. Insanity ? Am I slowly going insane
? Have I simply talked to too many imaginary people to rid myself of my
boredom that now I find these imaginary people have taken life of some sort
? Am I simply hearing things ? Is there a scientific explanation to it all ?
Who can save me now Dear Diary ? You are my last refuge.

The bells are alive and well. My room is no longer the comfortable den
it used to be. I am uncomfortable in every minute I spend there. I have
started going out for a walk in the night because I would rather do
that than sit in my room. Sleep is but a distant memory.
I wrap myself in my quilt and pray for sleep but it does not come.
I am deprived. My room is eating me. My room. I want to pull down
the posters that hang on the walls but my room won't let me. I want to find
out what the bells are but I never seem to be able to. I am stuck
here.

Each day, I think I can simply change my room and continue to live.
Each night, I go back.

I know escape is not the answer. It never is. Still, escape is my only
solution. The two hours of blessed sleep that I get is worth
everything. Sleep has become more important than life itself and yet I
cannot claim it.

My room is no longer my haven. The bells have taken away my comfort
and are dominating my mind. I cannot think beyond the bells. I hate it.
I hate this feeling of being completely and utterly dominated. Yet,
some part of me loves the bells. It has become a part of me now. What
would I do if the bells stopped. What would I do ? Would I be able
to sleep ? I somehow doubt that. I simply hope and pray that the bells don't
stop. I need the bells. I need the bells more than I need sleep. I
don't care about deciphering them anymore. I don't care much about anything
anymore. The bells have become a part of me. The bells are all that
matter. The bells are all I care for now. I need them to carry on and
the how, why and where can all hang.

Whatever happens, the bells cannot, must not, stop.

The God Of Balance - 1/14/2004

Things don't just go on it seems.

Happy people don't stay happy. Luckily, the sad people don't stay sad.
Atleast not all of them. Balance is achieved. Balance. The most important of
all reasons that this world still lives. If there is a God, He or She (don't
get your feminist panties in a bunch just yet Dear Diary) will be, must be,
the God of Balance.

So I guess things do go on after all.

Give me convenience or give me death.

Thus spake The Dead Kennedys. Very true in my case too.
That Jello Biafra chap is one smart fellow.

A friend speaks... On Homosexuality

"it's sad. they get all the chicks hanging around
em all the time - at least two of em do. it's like non vegetarian food
begging me to eat it."

...and so we come to this - 1/12/2004

Bored. Incredibly bored with no one to talk to. The gunslinger is busy with
work upstairs too. So damn bored. No work for except for one more meeting.
That too should have happened almost two hours ago. I wonder what would
happen if I kept one of my damn clients waiting for 2 hours.

There are some topics in this life that are best left untouched. I seem to
have a knack for bringing up these topics and then completely alienating a
friend. I fear I've done that again. Poking jokes at dead people is a strict
no no. Even if the dead person deserves a damn Darwin Award.

The client just called. He'll be here in ten minutes it seems.

I'm going to bury myself in a huge haul of music shortly. Thanks to the
gunslinger and psycho. Spending money makes me feel really good about
myself. I have the power and all of that I guess.

Enough beating around the bush I say. Get to the damn point. So now I come
to the crux of this post. The centre of my existence. Without which I am
nothing at all. I'm off to meet it now. Later Dear Diary.

I'm acutely aware of the rot in my teeth-brought about
-by the poison I take from you to eat...And I know that my skin is just a
brittle sleeve, frayed and worn- and no one rides for free...And I know that
my love is labeled fraud, and to be thrown -from out of the sight of
God...And stained, now I crawl back to your grace, I hope to gain one last
rotted kiss- from the lips of your embrace...

no. I have no frigging idea anymore - 1/12/2004

Another weekend passed by. Another good weekend. Saturday was spent

lazing
around and doing absolutely nothing till we all got smashed in wormboy's
house. Smashed beyond belief infact. A complete numbness overcame me at
around 2am and that was when I decided to go home. A friend came along and
that long drive just passed by like it was nothing at all. I lost complete
track of time and everything else that night.

The drive to anekal was anything but fun. The roads suck now. Completely
wasted. Hence a score to last for a long while and in the meanwhile an
easier destination is sought.

Sunday, I had the mother of all breakfasts. Omlette's, lots of pink
lovely Bacon and idli vada topped off with a huge glass of wonderful
coffee. All my ill cheer at having been woken up early on a Sunday morning
disappeared in the face of that culinary assault. After a welcome cancer
break I was ready to take on the world. I would have won too but I chose to
listen to some Soilwork instead. very nice band, this Soilwork. Very nice.
Soilwork just saved poor world I think.

Sunday evening, I saw one of the worst movies I've seen in a long long
time. Plan was a movie I wanted to see for quite a while now being a huge
Sunjay Dutt mark. However, he only appears in the damn movie just
before the interval and the movie just does everything but get to the
damn point. Incredibly boring. Not even Dutt could save this festering
pile of garbage.

After this, a light dinner made up of chicken rolls and then off to
catch a cup of coffee with some friends. Just like any other weekend really,
apart from a great time at wormboy's and one startling revelation.

I have nothing to listen to when I'm in the mood for some guitar wankery.
Absolutely nothing. All that I have is Buddy Guy going mental on Stone
Crazy and i was in no mood for the blues dammit! There is a huge gaping
hole in my music that needs to be filled up. Then again, why bother ? I
think I'll just rant about it here everytime I feel like listening to
some hot shot guitarist wank off. This is so much more fun than actually
listening to it.

The Bells - 1/12/2004

They have a delightful ring to them. Peaceful yet disturbing. There is a
poster of Burton C. Bell on my wall and the sound of the bells seem to come
from there. Strange ? Ridiculous ? A bit of both actually. But mostly, just
very very scary.

I have no idea where the damn sound of the bell is coming from. I have no
idea what the sound is. My grandfather has an old wall clock and the bell on
that clock rings every hour to the hour. I can hear this bell on occasion
even in my room. Strong and loud, it inspires confidence. More
importantly I know what it is and where its coming from. This is nothing
like that. The times don't match either. This bell has 5-6 rings to it.
Sometimes 4. The clock only rings as per time.

So I stay awake now. The bells in my room no longer sound delightful. I
must know what the bells are. You see that don't you ? Yes. You must. The
brain burns with thoughts of the bells. They scare me. They make me
uncertain. My sure footedness is lost amid a crumbling shuddering mass
of my beliefs. The bells are here, in the outside world. Not in my
mind. I am sure of that. Almost.

Yesterday, a friend slept over and he heard the bells too. They are in
the outside world after all.

So I stay awake now. I have no choice now but to stay awake. The bells
sound dirty and horrid but I must listen to them everyday. I must. One
of these days, I will know. Then things will change.

So I stay awake now. The bells are here and so am I and it is now only a
matter of time.

My biggest fear, however, is that once I know all about the bells and
I no longer need to stay awake, I will no longer be able to
sleep.

no.66 or Peeling skin and pink flesh - 1/9/2004

The skin on my palms continue to peel. They uncover soft pink flesh. The
hard brown callouses on my hand have long since been reduced to mere
indentations. If I believed in destiny and fate, I would think that my fate
was being re-written before my own helpless eyes. Off course I may
just be in need of some sort of cream for the skin and it may simply be
a dryness that causes the peeling but lets not go there. That way lies
boredom and a complete lack of interest.

The weekend is once again upon us and it seems like I'm simply moving from
one weekend to the next. If this weekend is half as good as the
last one, then I will not complain.

Tomorrow, we set off to Anekal. The last score was strange. A very nice and
pleasent outcome but it just doesn't last long enough. Perhaps our
own tolerance has increased. Now there's a scary
thought.

no.65 or what I am and what I should be - 1/7/2004

Paranoia runs rampant in my
temple. My acolytes spend more time looking over their shoulder instead
of washing my feet with their hair. My temple is dusty and crumbling. The
paint is peeling off the walls. My acolytes have halved in number. I will
forever remain a God but this new found paranoia is cause for worry. What do
they have to be paranoid about I wonder ? Sure, the world is not in very
good shape but the sensex crossed 6000 for a while there. The trees are
being chopped down at an alarming rate but the new book in the Dark
Tower series is out. I've done my best to balance things but still this
rampant paranoia ?

I fear that sometimes I give too
much to my people and other times I take too much. I am a God for whom
balance is everything and yet rarely means anything. Inspite of all
this or dare I say it because of all this, life for this particular God is
looking up.

The skin on my palms is slowly peeling

Scabby rough and quite ugly

What I am and what I wish to be

Rarely the same

I would like to be the Megaman one hundred feet of rope and
twine

I would like to be immortal 24 for life

I would like to be me occasionally not too much to ask I
hope

I would like you to be me sometime that should be fun

My life is on an upward swing. I may take a week off to recharge my batteries soon. In an ideal world I would go to Thailand again on my own for a holiday. I fell in love with that country. Sloth is definitely their favorite sin regardless of what some people might say.

no.64 or the wedding reception from hell - 1/6/2004

Yesterday another of my cousins got married. I missed the wedding and
attended the reception from hell last night. It seems I am next in line to
get married. This thought scares me a good deal. I also seem to be attending
a lot of marriages these days. Too many by far.

Last evening was anything but swell

At times I felt like jumping into an open well

Freedom rang at the eleventh bell

This was the wedding reception from hell.

It seems I’m next in line

This news is anything but fine

Bastard fear has settled in this brain of mine

I think I’ll climb a tree, preferably pine.

My booze bills will definitely go sky high

I’m so afraid all I can do is let out a sad sad sigh

My life of bachelorhood may soon die

This poem is so bad it makes me want to cry.

no.61 or Happy new year - 1/2/2004

A very happy new year to all. A good two days and the party was good
fun too. Good booze, good food, good weed, excellent company and overall
some grand fun. Also some absolutely mind fuck events and the formation of a
new chapter in my life. Unfortunately, being sworn to secrecy is quite a
handicap when you want to tell the whole damn world how great your new
year was. Still, better yto keep my mouth shut than live with tongue.

Today has been an exceptionally boring day. There seems to be nobody to
talk to and absolutely nothing to do. Nothing ? Did i just say nothing ?
Lets not go there... for now.

no.60 or Good old fashioned fun (Part 3) - 1/2/2004

It seems like everytime I think I'm done, there's a little more to add in
you. This is without doubt the longest damn entry I've written.

I may have made some friends over the New Year. Jack wants to meet for a
drink and recap events. he's been wanting to meet for a drink for some time
now and while I've always thought of him as being quite a peaceful person,
I've heard too many conflicting opinions on Jack. Looks like this one case,
I'll have to bite the bull by the horns and make up my own mind. I wonder
how bull horn will taste. I wonder if I should make the effort. Yasmin too
seems to becoming rather friendly which is something I'll have to be wary
of. It just takes too much effort for me to change my opinion on people I
don't care for. She's been wanting to borrow music and books for sometime
now and yesterday she finally did. She took the worst books in my collection
which was re-assuring and also just a little disappointing.

IBM decided to stay over as well along with the Bombay Boys and he
accompanied me for a late night sending session. IBM and I care
for each other. yet, at times our mutual loathing for each other is quite
apparent. He is my big brother and at times takes that title too seriously.
I am his little brother who never takes anything seriously. Unsurmountable
divide ? I would think so except that when it comes down to the wire,
we are family. He'll lift me up when I'm down and I'll lift him up when he's
down. No account keeping either. He listens to an eclectic range of music
from Indian classical, to Bollywood to iced Earth and Savatage, his
reading taste is even more eclectic spanning Shakespeare and Michael
Chrichton, Satyajit Ray and Shiv Khera. Yet, both of
us get our basic fundas in life from The Simpsons and Limp
Bizkit. He is my big brother and last night he was in top form.

A marathon listening session ensued when I came out in a haze and found
that Ravi was awake after all. I kept playing him the wierdest shit I have
and he kept proving what a kick ass person he is. Anybody who can listen to
Desultory, Art By Machinery, Mindsnare, Church Of Misery, Bathory and
Soilent Green all in the span of one night and appreciate almost all of it
can do no wrong in my book.

Overall a decent two days. There were periods of intense laughter and
escape followed by periods of feeling just a little down. I think I
missed the rose. Circumstances can be a real bitch I
guess.

..and so I wrap this up. I think I forgot a bunch of stuff and will add in
more later dear diary. For now, cancer awaits and I must go.

No. 59 or Good old fashioned fun (Part 2) - 1/2/2004

For a while before the
bottle smashing incident, I was feeling rather down. An intended call to the
rose didn't happen and it seemed like everything was just going out of
control and I had no space of my own in my own place. Yasmin took it upon
herself to entertain me. I may not like her much and probably never will but
she does seem to be a nice person. A contradiction there I
think. Still, it was fun pushing her buttons and waiting for her to
explode. I was impressed when she didn't explode either but when she
finally did at breakfast, it was quite satisfying. I can still be
a complete prick when I want to be no matter what you say dear JP.

Anyway, it was overall a
damn good night. Most people were awake for almost all of it I think. I hope
the Bombay Boys had fun. They went to bed rather early but hopefully they
had some fun.

The submarine is a
marvellous invention. It amazes me that I've been imbibing of the weed for
some time now but there are still so many things I have learnt and am
learning.

The booze was quite
marvellous too and the chiken rolls it seems were a big hit. 50 rolls for
around 15 people and they were all over by 4am. Good show.


The Gunslinger was too
worried about work to have himself a good time and even went off to work
during the middle of the night before coming back and then leaving at 6am.
The Psycho too left early and maybe felt a little out of place. Still can't
please everybody I guess. IBM, surprisingly enough got drunk, got drunk some
more, passed out and then woke up to party with renewed vigour and get into
a huge football argument with Anup. I know they were talking football, but I
have no idea who scored the goals.

Day broke soon enough

and
it was time to start the cleaning operations. surprisingly, with all the
moshing (yes dear diary, people actually moshed in my damn hall), the
violence and the rampant drunkeness, the house was quite easy to clean. Not
a lot of effort and Manas, GC and poor Nikhil helped out quite
sportingly. Yasmin helped out too by sweeping out the terrace and almost
made up for irritating the crap out of me earlier in the night with her
constant need for a damn mattress. For someone I don't care for
too much Yasmin finds herself mentioned in this page far too
many times I think. Analytical diarreah, lets not even go there.


Waking up the posse and
getting rid of the human debris was a lot more time and energy consuming
than the cleaning. By the time all was done, there was only one person
asleep and Dear Diary, guess who'e name I'm going to mention now.
yep. Yasmin. Silly stupid bitch! I almost dislocated her shoulder,
pulled her hair, poured water on her face and she just wouldn't get up.
If there were'nt so many damn witnesses, I would have set fire to her
damn hair. Still, Nikki came to the rescue and not only woke her up
but also bit her, scratched her and gave her a big bump on the head. I felt
quite happy about all that. Nikki rocks.

At times during the
night, I felt like there was something wrong. Like the whole house
was simply a barrel of gunpowder and was just waiting for someone to light a
match stick. Luckily this fear proved unfounded. I also continues the New
Year tradition of insulting almost everybody at the party. I think Nolan in
particular was a victim who got burnt badly or atleast The Menon seemed
to think so. I like the chap but occasionally, I just push things too far.


Jack, DT, Olo, JP, KP and
the Bombay Boys were the most chilled out at the party. These lads can party
in my house anytime they want to. Nolan too was remarkably chill and even
Andy except for a few Andyisms was low maintenance. The Menon,
Psycho, The Gunslinger and IBM pretty much party in my house most times
anyway so thats also taken care off. The problem with Manas and Anup in
particular is that I feel so old when they're around. Generation gap ? I
would think so. At times, all I want to do is grab them both by the collar,
shake then around and whisper at them to shut up and relax for a
while. For every time that I have to repeat myself I will slap them once
across their face. I like them a lot Dear Diary and enjoy their company but
every now and then they simply become too much to handle. A common
complaint I have with people younger than me by a few years is that
they just don't seem to know how to relax. That was more than evident during
the night when everybody had to shout and scream to make their voice heard.
The Illuminati was one gathering I wished I could be a part of but the
music was Nevermore so I simply came down too late. Instead I got some
Peach Schnapps which hit the spot quite beautifully. Thank you
Nolan.

No. 58 or Good old fashioned fun - 1/2/2004

Another year passes by
and we come that much closer to death. Oh, the futility of it all.

What a terrible way to
start off an entry that should talk about two absolutely great days. The
31st was a strange day. Came into work in the morning and and after farting
around doing absolutley nothing for a long time except talk to the rose, and
wait rather anxiously for a call from the Bombay Boys.


After learning that the
Bombay Boys were going to be late, I moved ahead to lunch with rather
interesting company. The JP and the Toto were common enough but the Naught
was a first timer. The Naught intrigues me. He's extremely laid
back and relaxed when I meet him in person and yet on the 'net, he
comes across as this extremely pushy, idiotic and insecure person with tons
of issues. Wierd but since I have no plans of meeting him often I guess I
can save the analyses for another day.

So we moved
onward home. JP and Toto decided to come in early and we got home by
around about 4pm. The menon in the meanwhile was busy getting drunk and
hence would make a late and hurried appearance. The Bombay Boys

joined
us a little while later. As we were wandering the streets imbibing cancer,
they too were wandering the streets in search of my house. Happy
co-incidence us finding them. After a good two hours spent rolling
massive joints and listening to a wide assortment of music, we were joined
by the Gunslinger and the Psycho. The base shifted immediately to the
complex for some coffee and refreshments. During all this time, I had a
vague feeling that people would stay away for some reason

and this
would be it. After gathering up the reggae man, we headed back home and the
guests slowly started filling in.

Before anything else, the
guest list.

The Menon, JP,
Gunslinger, Psycho, IBM, Toto, Ravi & Bala (The Bombay Boys), Jack,
Nolan, Andy, Manas, Anup, Nikhil, GC, KP, Yasmin, Varun, Olo, DT,
Death and Axe.

The
Missing:

Potter, Fuzzy,
Vishal, Messiah. Potter and Vishal in particular.


The party
was non-happening. It semed early on itself that this was a simple get
together for a bunch of people who wanted to hang out together and
yet keep their own personal spaces intact. The people began coming in
by about 9pm and pretty soon, the house was packed and the intoxication
began in earnest. That first submarine was quite an experience. Quite
awesome I say! Rajan however, decided to leave early and he didn't even
bother telling me. A definate dissapointment cause while he may be a moody
bastard he is also a sweet hearted chap and one of the funniest people
I know. Jack and Axe came in a little later and seemed to have their own
smoking circle on the upstairs terrace along with Nikhil. Axe however
seemed to do too much too soon and was Victim # 1. Children these days!


Manas, dissapointingly
enough was on his best behavoiur through most of the night. After Psycho's
early attacks and utter destruction of Manas's soul, Yas took over with
phenomenol courage and gumption to prick a few more holes into Manas. Poor
lad. I like him and felt just a little sorry for that little attention
whore. Anup on the other hand, concentrated on getting smashed and then
acting all responsible.

I laughed on occasion
till I had tears streaming down my cheeks and it was thanks to the most
unlikely sources. Yasmin in particular apart from looking very very pretty
was in top form and took my trip so badly that KP felt all embarrassed. It
was mostly truth and perhaps that was what made KP so embarassed. I
doubt if we're on the same wave length though. That was the cherry on the
cake. KP even apologized to me on Yas's behalf. And people think I'm nice.
This chap is one of the finest human beings i know.

Toto worries me.
Yesterday he broke a bottle on nikhil's head and was completely mental about
it. He reminds me of a little kid who will own up to no responsibility
whatsoever for his own actions. Luckily it seems Nikhil has a thick head,
but just about anything could have happened. The sound of the bottle
shattering on Nikhil's head drew a bunch of us downstairs and sure enough,
it was chaos. Absolute anarchy I say. Toto needs balance in his life.
In some damn way. Poor Nikhil was more embaressed than hurt and
after the tears had dried out, he made peace with Toto too. They may
not hug each other when they meet on the streets, but Nikhil won't
kill Toto either and considering the circumstances, I think thats fair
enough.

Wandering through the
place was my best time pass. A million different conversations all
coming into my head and then exiting just as quickly. A million laughing
voices, and getting stuck in the middle of a bizzarre band name game between
JP and Jack. Just a few of the things I remember. The funniest I think
was when Nolan, Andy and Anup were trying to console Nikhil and call off his
"boys" from Toto with Toto himself sitting around rather worried and
and a bunch of us sitting around and laughing our asses off. Andy
is one dumb moron. "Toto didn't too it on purpose, he just did it
for fun. Forget it na ? " I couldn;t take it anymore and Jack, The
Menon and I burst into peals of laughter. Stupid bitch! Is that what you say
to a chap who's had a damn vodka bottle broken on his head ? It was just fun
??? Fucking ridiculous. Next was " I'm sure it was just a slip of the hand."
That was hilarious too. The Menon lost all control and ran out of the
hall before slipping and landing on his butt and still continuing to
laugh. I should have been disgusted with the apathy that was
present in the room at that time. I would have been shocked
and disgusted too but I was just too damn busy laughing my
ass off. All this off course was after it was determined that no serious
damage was done to Nikhil. We are not that apathetic also. Yasmin too
seemed to get in on the consoller act and tried consoling both Nikhil
and Toto to varying degrees of success. The Menon off course after the
laughter died had to play Big Brother and give a peace of his mind to
all involved parties. Since he does it so rarely, when the menon gives you a
piece of his mind, you respectfully listen.

no. 57 or The Spaces Between Silence - 12/29/2003

spaces between silence

that is all we are

no.56 or Holidaying in Satan's Armpit - 12/29/2003

So I went to Bombay. My cousin got married there and I was present to
partake in the festivities. A good 4 days it was too. Day one, we
reached Bombay in the morning and after some spent freshening up I set
off with my mom, sis and a bunch of aunts/ cousins on a shopping expedition.
Thankfully this was the only shopping expedition I was involved in. Later
that day, an uncle held forth on the flatulence problem that he and his
entire family have and how they can virtually fart on demand. It was quite
hilarious too. My family is not normal I say. Following lucnh at the bride's
house which I missed, an explosion occured at my uncle's house where I was
staying. The aunt's all discussing the wedding so far and the resulting
volume level made me feel like shouting at all of them to shut up. If I
could, I would have, but I couldn't so I just shut up.

We moved to the hotel in a bit and I had my first smoke of the day.
What a relief I say to be away from the spying eyes of uncles and aunts.
after spending some time chilling out and napping, it was time to hit the
party circuit. This time, a "get together" organised by the girl's side or
rather, my side. This party had all the makings of a snooze fest
till the bar opened. A merry rush and plonking myself at the bar ensured
that I was saved from dancing to indi pop and remixed marathi folk
songs. The booze flowed freely and I was generally chill. My cousin
from Pune was good company too in the drinking that continued through
my stay in Bombay.

Thursday was the day of the wedding and I must say, I've attended a few of
them recently and this has to be the most boring one I've been to in a long
long time. In fact it was so boring that breaking all tradition the girl's
side of the family (of which I am a part) were the first to partake of the
lunch. It seemed like everybody just wanted to get the ceremony out of the
way and get back to the partying, drinking and dancing. The food too was a
dissapointment. Mostly North Indian food that wasn't particularly well
done.

Thursday evening was spent in the company of a friend and
visiting a quite awesome book exhibition. I also saw Kill BIll again and if
anything the second viewing was even better than the first. The
movie was followed by a huge Gujju thaali dinner that pretty much filled me
to bursting. The ride back on the local train was a bit of a new
experience for me and not one I particularly enjoyed. Although it was during
this train ride that I finally realised the sheer scale of this city.
Monsterously huge I say! Thank you Ravi for what was a very enjoyable day in
Bombay.

Friday I spent with another friend and it was an enjoyable day of Heavy
Metal, Chinese food and tons of bitching. Thank you Kunal for another great
day.

Friday evening was the big reception and my word it was big. The booze once
again flowed freely and I don't think I want to see anymore Bacardi for some
time to come. The food here was exceptional. The chocolate mousse in
particular was orgasmic. A nice reception and a good time.

From here, I set off to Pune to spend a little time with my cousins whom I
was meeting after a good 4 years. another enjoyable day and that damn
expressway is quite spectacular. I thought I was the king of the road at a
140km/hr till a car zipped passed me like I was nothing at all. Despite
that, this drive is truly worth it. Sheer beauty.

The other highlights of my stay in Bombay included passing by Amitabh
Bachan's house on numerous occasions and also spotting Shyam Benegal in the
theatre after coming out of Kill Bill. The most memorable was making eye
contact with Lara Dutta who was shooting for a film in the same hotel I was
staying in and then making way for her. Was that a smile on her face ? I
dare not consider it. She is a goddess. Absolute beauty.

The trip back too was a pleasent if largely uneventful journey.

In general I had a fair amount of fun during the trip. Fun mixed with
periods of unexplained sadness and occasional bouts of claustrophobia.
Bombay is a city that I am mostly uncomfortable in. That hasn't changed.
Still, the people who live there made my visit worthwhile. Still, I can't
help but wish that the few completely awesome people I know in Bombay
actually stayed in Bangalore. If wishes were horses and all that I guess.

no.55 or letter to the rambling rose - 12/28/2003

I don't know when you'll read this and if you ever will. Still I write this
more for myself than anybody else so here goes.

You took away my sunglasses of black and grey and replaced it with the
colours of the rainbow. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you make my
heart go pitter patter, you make me talk. You taught me things I did not
even know existed. you made me think that I was not dead inside. You make me
feel alive.

Look around you kan. Apathy is never present in the people you touch. Your
talent is awe inspiring. What I wouldn't give for just a little thimble of
it.

You, sweet rose, are a nice person and that counts for everything.

Seasons will come and go. They never last forever kan. All we can do
is make the best of it. For me a final escape has never been an option
, but if you don't come back, I will kill myself, find you, give you a good
spanking and then grasp and hold onto you.

I think I'm going to cry now. I will see you again kan. Selfishly, I
must.

no.54 or a pain in the neck - 12/22/2003

I woke up at 6am today and could not go back to sleep. A sprained neck and
a stiff stiff body is what I woke up with. Not very nice I say. I probably
slept the wrong way although I may have been raped by a demon. I hope I just
slept the wrong way.

The weekend was very chilled out. Lots of coffee, lots of food and lots of
wasted time. Saturday, the original coffee kvlt got together in honour of
the menon's sailing to foreign lands. I haven't laughed that much in a long
long time Dear Diary. The Psycho made a rare but welcome presence and
proceeded to bring the house down with jokes of utter blasphemy and
revulsion. What else can one expect from Psycho although some of his
jokes made the menon and IBM squirm a little. Good fun.

Saturday night was coffee time again and good fun it was too. Parking was a
real pain in the neck though. Sunday was just more wasted time and

more
cofffee. All in all, a weekend with nothing of any importance but a fun
weekend anyway. Nice.

no.53 or Rage - 12/19/2003

So my bombay trip has been chopped in half. I'm rather angry right now and
would like to scream. Unfortunately I can't so I'm just sitting here and
writing in you. Grit my teeth and write. I kicked a chair in my office today
and it didn't even make me feel any better. This is the anti-zone. Evrything
that can go wrong will go wrong. Hopefully, I can go to Bombay with a smile
on my face. Hopefully. Still, right now I can't smile. The morning was
decent enough but this just sucks. If I could get scream I would but I can't
so I'm cribbing. how pathetic is this ?

Rotten nonsense. I cannot take much more of this but I will. I think the
long sufferring working class stiff image is something I secretly enjoy. "Oh
look at that poor boy. He works so hard", is something that gives me a rush.
I live for pity. Rotten nonsense.

Yesterday was reasonably decent. I got a job offer although I won't get
paid for it and it'll be full time. I turned it down. I was not put on this
world to do social service. Imagine asking God to work for free. Utter vile
blasphemy I say! Still, I may help them out in some limited capacity. Nice
people they are.

So we move onto nothing else. I have said all that I have to say in what
has been an exceptionally boring dull day so far. Can I expect this day to
suddenly improve ? Can I ? Dare I ? Am I filling up my Dear sweet diary with
absolute nothingness ? Is that even a word ? Is this what is commonly
referred to as a ramble ? Am I only going to write questions now ? Can I
write anything else ? Why am I even writing this ? Isn't this an utter waste
of time for everybody involved ? What the hell is time anyway ? I'm smiling
again. Not a big smile but a small one and for now that will do very nicely.
Thank you Dear Diary.

no. 52 or the stain on my wallet - 12/18/2003

Yesterday this rather beautiful insect came into my room. It was tiny and
seemed to be made up of two wings that had the colours of the spectrum on
it. Tiny legs and a body that was obscured by these 2 wings that seemed to
be multi-layered. Quite beautiful. Unfortunately the mess it left on my
wallet when i squashed it was anything but beautiful. The stain on my wallet
is still there i think. Why can't these damn insects be as beautiful in
death as they are in life ? These are the questions that plague my mind. I
am a very deep person indeed.

I am in the anti-zone today so expect no great gyaan. Yesterday, I did
absolutely nothing except roll a bazooka for a friend and not smoke
it myself (which I was rather proud of btw) and then listen to The
Gathering and Sabbat. Walkyier's lyrics are truly exceptional. If only I
could write like that. Anneke from The Gathering is my favourite female
vocalist ever. Her voice is rich, sublime and a huge huge turn on.

no.51 or a man with a moustache is in great deman - 12/17/2003

So I was off from work yesterday and I decided to see a movie. The movie
infact picked me and I ended up watching sleaze king Kashinath's movie,
"meese iruwa ganasige demandappo demandu" which roughly translates to "A

man
with a moustache is always in great demand."

Now Kashinath is a film maker who tries to put in socially responsible
topics in his films while targetting the front benchers and the undeducated.
His films generally have lots of sleaze and potray most women in a bad light
while again, every movie of his also has a couple of strong female
charectars. This contradiction is present in all his movies and actually
does not work.

Now in the case of this film, the theme is dowry and our upright hero
(Kashinath himself) is an avid anti-dowry mark while his mother is a huge
pro-dowry mark. The production values are non-existent, the acting is
downright pathetic and the heroines are quite unattractive.

One scene though will forever stick in my mind. Kashinath's sister is
getting married and to reduce costs at the wedding, the mother pours a bag
of cooking soda into the rice so people eat less. What follows is a 10
minute segment where people leave the mantap burping. Children, old men,
women, young men all burping their way out of the mantap and each burp is
unique. The cherry on the cake though is a 5 minute conversation between 2
junior artistes (lets not call them extras) who burp their way through the
scene and even manage to flirt while burping. This whole segment was
intense. I could not take my eyes off the damn TV and my hand never even
went near the remote. Captivating filmmaking I say and Kashinath is a God.

The movie plays out to the usual end with he mother realising her wicked
ways and begging for forgiveness and the hero marrying the love of his life.
It is however the 10 minute burp segment in the middle that makes this
movie worth watching. A tribute to surrealism I'm sure from
Bangalore's very own Kashinath.

While Kashinath's movies have been known to be money spinners,
he has also inspired a new generation of kannada film makers most
notably Upendra who started much in the same vein as Kashinath with low
budget sleazoid movies that proved to be big winners at the box office,
although Upendra would later explode into a bona fide superstar with "A" and
"Upendra."

So yesterday was a boring day and today has so far been no better. When I
watch Kannada movies in the afternoon my whole day just goes for a toss. The
weekend was also rather boring although I got to watch Kill Bill which was
quite brilliant. Saturday infact was very chill but Sunday was boring beyond
belief. Still, I got through my first review of a Kannada film and coming up
next will be reviews of the mighty Ravichandran's early films and a
comprehensive review of Upendra's brilliant catalogue of films.

......and no, I'm not joking.

no.50 or celebration and secrets - 12/16/2003

Yesterday the menon and I went to Anekal. There, for the very first time
the dealer was outside the on the road. After the score, on our way out, we
stopped to exchange pleasenteries with the dealer. We were offered a plate
of half cooked kababs and after the gulping down of the same, the dealer
tells us that he's been drinking all day with a bunch of friends cause
another friend of his had just died. He said this with no sadness and infact
with a smile. He was celebrating the death of his friend. Will any of us
ever have the courage to do the same ? Or will we be content to sit down
morosely and maybe even weep for our friend ? But we are not weeping for our
dead friend at all. We are weeping because we will miss him. Our grief is
almost completely selfish in nature. Will we ever have the courage to
celebrate a friend's death ? I can only hope that I will never have to
answer that.

---

Dear Rambling Rose,

There are some things that msn is no good for. You wanted a secret
yesterday and I copped out like I usually do. Well, this is not much of a
secret but I have been meaning to tell you this since I read your e-mail.
Your penchant to cut and your reasoning behind it made me feel like I could
have written that. I discovered that I liked pain at a rather early age.
Physical pain. Picking fights with people who were twice my size was a
favourite passtime. Thats rather hard to do now though. I would stand still
and some other chap would beat me up. I took the pain and made it my own. I
have no clear idea why but I liked it and that is enough. It was only after
my accident that a thought struck me. The pain I went through during my
physiotherapy was a pain I had never felt before. The muscles on my leg
would stretch, the bone would heal, I would bite into the pillow so as to
not scream and I loved every minute of it. More than any single experience,
that pain remains with me. Better than anything else I have experienced.
Sad. I guess. But I write this with a smile on my face. Self inflicted pain
and the joy of it all. Pain is ecstacy. I would one day like to taste the
blood of another. That is the heart of my secret. I would one day like to
take the pain and give it back to someone who can make it their own. Analyse
me, sweet rose for your analyses is rarely wrong. Analyse me for I have much
to learn about myself and right now I could use all the help I can get.

---

GK: Dude, we should stop riding ur luck.

The Menon: eh ? What da ?

GK: We're pushing it da. We smoke like 2 fucking

chimneys
and then we drive. You're in no position to drive right now.

The Menon: I like driving when I'm stoned da and

nothing's
ever happened.

GK: Its only a matter of time before something happens
fucker and we're both too young to fucking die.

The Menon: Bastard! Thats why I pray.

no.49 or identity crisis - 12/11/2003

So I saw Kal Ho Na Ho. Unfortunately dear Ravi, it is not about the absence
of prostitution in the future. This is going to be difficult to write but I
liked the movie. I'm such a wuss! This can't be happening to me. The movie
was melodramatic, cliched and predictable, the songs were so horribly campy
they were embarassing to sit through and inspite of all this (or
because of all this ?) I still liked it. My mother cried
bucketloads and for a while I was afraid that I might drown. Still, nice
time pass with some snappy dialogues.

On my way to the theatre, I got into an argument with the parking
attendant. We finally resolved it when he agreed to take the extra 5 bucks
when I got back from the movie saying that he would still be there when I
got back at 12:30am which I doubted. I was a little dissapointed that he
wasn't there when I finally got back. Still it was closer to 1:30am by the
time the movie got over so I guess I may as well give him the benefit of the
doubt.

There are few things that lift my spirit in the morning like Six Feet Under
does. Few things.

I'm thinking of giving up this manly metal masquerade though. A life of A R
Rehman, Yesudas and a smattering of M S Subhalaksmi is beginning to look
quite appealing. Who needs this noise anyway ?

no. 48 or Descent into the Absurd - 12/9/2003

Another joint effort by sinisterbass, trollkein and deathrider and coming at you

live from the freehand poetry factory.

Descent into the absurd

He's a glitch in the reality game
The ultimate fan boy that any band would crave
For him, the song remains the same
Until he discovers a whole new game
He has been to the places where the universe frays
From fantasia to Floyd all in a bright pink haze
The chemicals within his molecular dream, scream
He’s just too good to be true, it must seem
He’s the one who makes us gang up
He’s the one we love to troll
He’s got that magic touch in his tomato
And a finishing move he calls the exterminato
Is that a tomato in a shroud?
Or an infected mushroom cloud
That floats above his open mind
So open there's nothing behind
Save paranoia supreme and thoughts unsettled
Reedy weedy dreams and powerless metal
Maiden and Strato his twin obsessions
The brothers chemical not too far behind
Mushrooms and infections, the vegetable state
Blunt as an eraser this double-edged surd
Is a weak imitator, at a loss for words.
Can rest happy that he's got nothing left to lose
In his synthetic paradise he is calmer than you might imagine
In the virtual world he's as fiery as andhra chilli
In his narcosythetic castle he polishes his willy
And he believes in Santa Claus and mili vanilli
19 lines and counting
I think we should resist the temptation
to write any further
Is he truly worthy of so much attention?
Or can we consign him to the wastelands of infernal detention

no.47 or very private - 12/9/2003

Empty. Lost. A private entry for when I'm happy and a private entry
for when I'm not sure what I'm feeling. Promises made and the fear that I
may not be able to live upto them. Fear. How I loathe you. Bastard fear.
There are few things that are good in my life right now. Few things. Metal
has lost some of its charm. Whats that noise I say ? Thank something or the
other yet again for friendships I have done nothing to deserve. True
friendships. Thank something or the other for a family that is my support
system. That is unquestioning, understanding and generally the three coolest
people I know.

So i've decided to stay clean till New Years. Yesterday was the first time
in a long long time that I actually had to sleep instead of just passing
out. I'm scared to sleep. It hit me yesterday. Scared to close my eyes and
not be able to sleep with a million thoughts converging. Bastard Fear. I'm
so afraid right now. So very afraid. The fear will vanish next week
hopefully and I will be back but till then, this fear is killing
me. Almost like how I felt when my degree results were delayed and the
fear and anticipation everyday as I went to college and the relief that
soon turned to fear when I learnt that they had not yet been sent.

Anger too. Helpless anger because I cannot do anything to the people I
am angry with. Know this though, dear diary, a day of reckoning will come
and when it does, my rage will be unmatched. Yes. i know thats rather
dramatic but lets not be too serious about it. After all, who knows what and
who could be reading this.

A list of names have been drawn up. One by one they will fall. The
people I can't handle my pater will but they will fall and that is a
promise.

"You are stuck between two iron walls and you're just walking from one to
the other and banging your head on each iron wall when you get there." ---
thus spake the menon. He's very perceptive. Thank something or the other its
a rare happening.

There are few things in life that are good right now...

...and her. A bright spark. Truely. I wish that I could talk to her all
day. I wished endlessly when she was here that she would stay a little while
longer. She is quite magnificent. I like her. More importantly I like
talking to her. Thats a first. What is this ? Right now I don't
really care although I am thoroughly confused. However, know this Dear
Diary, I may well ask her a question come 2006 and that is no joke. I may
not even wait that long dear diary. This woman is an intoxicant. Heady,
warm, unbelievably cute and fun to trip with. Oh yes. Just talking about her
makes me feel a whole lot better. She is the smell of mud that is wet
with the first rain of the season. She is the orchid bloom. She is. I could
write a million bad poems about her and still not come close to actually
painting her picture. She is a puzzle I may never solve but not for
lack of trying. She wants to play on my minor keys it seems. How
my heart went pitter patter when I read that Dear Diary. I doubt if I will
ever forget her name. No. She has been logged in and her presence has been
duly noted.

RAMBLING ROSE,
RAMBLING ROSE
WHY YOU RAMBLE NO ONE KNOWS
WILD AND WIND BLOWN
THAT'S HOW YOU'VE GROWN
WHO CAN PAINT YOU MY RAMBLING ROSE

RAMBLING ROSE, RAMBLING ROSE
WHY YOU RAMBLE NO ONE KNOWS
WHO WILL LOVE YOU WITH A LOVE TRUE
WHEN YOUR RAMBLING DAYS ARE GONE

RAMBLING ROSE, RAMBLING ROSE
WHY I WANT YOU HEAVEN KNOWS
THOUGH I LOVE YOU WITH A LOVE TRUE
WHO CAN CLING TO A RAMBLING ROSE.

Sweet rambling rose...

no.46 or full fun only - 12/8/2003

Last Saturday I had the most fun I've had in a long long time at a rock
show. I saw Zero play in Bangalore after what seems like centuries and they
tore the house down. No frills rock and roll but damn, was it fun. They even
played a Led Zeppelin medley that I thoroughly enjoyed with Whole Lotta
Love, Communication Breakdown, Kashmir and the end of Stairway To Heaven.
Zero were incredibly good fun wether they were doing their own compositions
(Mariarchi, PSP 12'' being the two stand outs for me) or wether they were
doing a cover of Madonna's "Material Girl" full rock shtyle. While I missed
most of both Bhoomi and Shrapnel, I must say, with no offence
intended, that Zero made those two bands look like little lost school
children.

After a rather late Saturday night, Sunday was spent recovering and
chilling out. A nice lunch with the parents and a late coffee drinking
session with the thrash god. I felt strangely uneasy through most of Sunday.
like something was about to happen but never actually did. It happened on
Monday though. Another bad day at work.

Still, it wasn't too bad. I have finally learnt the art of rolling rizla
joints. I should be so proud of myself. No more ciggie joints for this
little piggy. Anyway, the saplings are growing in a very healthy
manner. I need a volunteer who can grow them. Somebody who has a

safe
place because I will soon run out of place in the pot.

Tonight, I take my mother to see "Kal Ho Na Ho." I'm looking forward
to watching this movie. I've always been a sucker for melodrama
and this movie promises much.

Till later Dear Diary.

no.46 or full fun only - 12/8/2003

Last Saturday I had the most fun I've had in a long long time at a rock
show. I saw Zero play in Bangalore after what seems like centuries and they
tore the house down. No frills rock and roll but damn, was it fun. They even
played a Led Zeppelin medley that I thoroughly enjoyed with Whole Lotta
Love, Communication Breakdown, Kashmir and the end of Stairway To Heaven.
Zero were incredibly good fun wether they were doing their own compositions
(Mariarchi, PSP 12'' being the two stand outs for me) or wether they were
doing a cover of Madonna's "Material Girl" full rock shtyle. While I missed
most of both Bhoomi and Shrapnel, I must say, with no offence
intended, that Zero made those two bands look like little lost school
children.

After a rather late Saturday night, Sunday was spent recovering and
chilling out. A nice lunch with the parents and a late coffee drinking
session with the thrash god. I felt strangely uneasy through most of Sunday.
like something was about to happen but never actually did. It happened on
Monday though. Another bad day at work.

Still, it wasn't too bad. I have finally learnt the art of rolling rizla
joints. I should be so proud of myself. No more ciggie joints for this
little piggy. Anyway, the saplings are growing in a very healthy
manner. I need a volunteer who can grow them. Somebody who has a

safe
place because I will soon run out of place in the pot.

Tonight, I take my mother to see "Kal Ho Na Ho." I'm looking forward
to watching this movie. I've always been a sucker for melodrama
and this movie promises much.

Till later Dear Diary.

no.45 or sister boredom strikes again - 12/8/2003

and my last ditch was says:

hmm

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

indeed

and my last ditch was says:

quite so

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

some more really bad postry time ?

and my last ditch was says:

ithink so

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

coolo

and my last ditch was says:

lets do one on olo

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

heheheh

and my last ditch was says:

very metaphysical and obscure, of course

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

bastard's been trolling all over my blog

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

heheh cool

and my last ditch was says:

hehe

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

wait let me look up metaphysical in the dictionary
first

and my last ditch was says:

well

and my last ditch was says:

ok

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

hehehe

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

okay i'll just wing it

and my last ditch was says:

lets go

and my last ditch was says:

i'll start

Be my queen of enraptured love, priestess of the black summer night
says:

.ok

no. 44 or Metaphysical and Obscure - 12/8/2003

Metaphysical and Obscure
(Brought to you by the JP and I Freehand Poetry Factory)

In dark afternoons of virtual boredom he crawls
Scourge of the innocent and the young
Through hallowed halls traces his snotty scrawls
Before him all logic and wisdom falls
With cribbed visuals and crabbed quotes he slays
These might well be his golden days
The poor lad, his fate unsung
For every silly riposte another enemy born
In this hedge of blooms he lurks, a thorn
Waiting watching, his prey can be anyone
With a quick quip and a barbed post he has them on the run
Some might say his way of life is unusual
But to us he is simply a little bit special
As virtual boredom transforms into cyber mayhem
Standing tall on the anarchy that he has birthed
He trolls the punters for all he's worth

no.43 or another private conversation pt.2 - 12/4/2003

Manichean depressive
says:

so are we done
now?

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

yep

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

i guess
so

Manichean depressive
says:

cool

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

first victim
?

Manichean depressive
says:

huh?

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

who do inflict this epic on
?

Manichean depressive
says:

ahhh

Manichean depressive
says:

ravi

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

hahahahahahaha

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

awesome

no.42 or some more really bad poetry - 12/4/2003

Those whose names we forgot

And all the tequilas they shot

Friends and lovers once but strangers now

Solving crosswords without ever knowing how

Friends and lovers once but strangers now

I watch the tree of time shed its calender leaves

And I wonder if its just me

I wonder what time has up its sleeves

Will sister time ever forgive me ?

Friends and lovers once but strangers now

Camomile tea and Iced Lattes

Endless smiles and shy laughter

Who were they and where are they now ?

The leaves continue to fall

Friends and lovers once but strangers now.

The gathering darkness brings no comfort

Hold me, save me sister time

I need to live through eons of hurt

Save me, save yourself, save yourself

Winter is upon us, the tree of time is bare

Friends and lovers once but strangers now.

The above was a freehand poetry writing attemp by yours truly and
JP

no.41 or another private conversation - 12/4/2003

Manichean depressive
says:

ar

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

yessir
?

Manichean depressive
says:

just

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

hehehehe

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

damn fucking bored
da

Manichean depressive
says:

same

here

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

i thought of writing some
more really bad poetry but inspiration didn't
happen

Manichean depressive
says:

blasting some tea party for
survival

Manichean depressive
says:

damn

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

aah lucky
bugger

Manichean depressive
says:

lets try a freehand
build

Through the flesh and to
the soul says:

you wanna do one line

each
?

Manichean depressive
says:

exactly

Manichean depressive
says:

full corny only it should
be

....and sister boredom shall always be our greatest muse.

no.40 or God is intimidated - 12/3/2003

Okay. The holiday is over. I'm back to work and reality has hit home. A
pretty good week so far. The next few hours will be crucial and the tension
is getting to me. I hope its finished today. I hope.

Lustbader's The Ring Of Five Dragons is utterly frustrating. I cannot
fool myself anymore. Its an incredibly frustrating read simply because I
keep forgetting where I've stopped reading and end up either re-reading
whole chapters or skipping a few and hence loosing complete track of the
plot. Another thing that bothers me... Where's the sex I say ?!! And more
importantly where's the damn violence ?! What a let down. Is this even the
same author who gave us all The Ninja series, Black Heart and Jian ?
What an utter dissapointment. Still, I must finish this damn book
and then move onto the second book of the series. Yes, dear diary I
have the second volume as well.

The Only Place has re-opened and is now on Museum Road. Woo Hoo! The best
steaks in town are back. A chance drive on Saturday night and we landed
there for dinner. The food, I am happy to say is as good as it ever was.
Expensive but well worth every paise. Even the grape juice tasted as
brilliant as ever.

Sunday was good. Spent the day chilling at home and went out for coffee
with a bunch of people in the evening. Got back home at a reasonably early
time too. Saturday I went and watched Cryptic. Good show but nowehere near
as good as the last time I saw them. Still, nice band. Pity about the dead
sounding demo though.

Uploading pics onto picturetrail is a damn pain Dear Diary. It really is.
Especially when i can only upload one damn picture at a time. Still, the
pictures make the effort worth while.

I very much want to write some more poetry but the bullies of the
playground (my supposed friends) have squashed my poetic tendencies for now.
Yes, dear diary, God is intimidated. The vague and obscure one and the troll
lord olo have left me in a whimpering mess lying curled up in a foetal
position. Is that drool I feel on my cheek ? Thank something
or the other for private notes that make my heart go pitter
patter and little notes of encouragement from poets far superior than
I.

no.39 or the wedding of the century Pt. 2 - 12/2/2003

The morning of

the
wedding saw us all oversleep and miss the bus with the wedding party.
Luckily enough, taxi's were avalable in plenty and one was hired for no
large fuss. The wedding was in this huge hall and as we entere, this feeling
of being treated as a bunch of very important people just intensified.
A brilliant breakfast followed by long periods of observing the wedding
and discussing the various things that were happening on the mantap.
Olo seemed to appreciate the music too and they did play at
a rather impressive volume for just two people. A few
clandestine cancerous trips outside and it was time for lunch. I've eaten a
few Managlore wedding lunches in my time and I must say that this ranks very
highly indeed. A feast that was truly spellbinding in its variety. A feast
that managed to match the variety on offer with quality. Every small
accompaniement was beautifully prepared. A pity that the late breakfast left
me with little appetite but I feel I did justice enough to the food on
offer.

We got back to
Suratkal late afternoon and after chilling out in the room for a while (Yes
dear diary, if there was a theme to this holiday it was "chilling out"), we
headed out to book our tickets. That done, it was time yet again to be
amazed by the people of this little town. An auto driver who was remarkably
friendly and took us to the beach. Then promptly came back when we had asked
him to, along with bringing another auto to make sure all 5 of us fit and
had a safe and comfortable ride back to the bus stand. Then we met the good
samaritan from the first day (the chap who let us jump over his compound
wall) and he actually stopped his bike, inquired about our stay and wether
we had fun at the wedding and wished us a pleasent ride back before going
off on his way. A few of us have decided to settl down in Suratkal as a
result of this unbelievable kindness of strangers.

The Suratkal

beach
was quite incredible. Beautiful and abslutely silent except for the sound of
the wind and the tides. The few hours we spent there on both days were quite
brilliant. Everything about that beach and this holiday was perfect.

It was with a

heavy
heart and I mean this quite seriously that we all made our way back home.
This holiday could have lasted forever. This holiday should have lasted for
ever. When I re-read this, it really doesn't seem like much of a
holiday but I guess words or atleast these words simply cannot hope to
describe this holiday of a lifetime. Thank you dear JP, Ravi, Suresh and
Shri. Thank you O God of Thunder for without you this would never have
happened.

Thank you G, and

I
wish you a very happy married life and all the happiness you can
ever want or need.

no.38 or the wedding of the century - 12/1/2003

Another good weekend. A holiday that saw intense periods of
chilling out, discussions on topics ranging from Lovecraft to cricket to the
importance of Tony Iommi. 5 people, each as different from each other as
chalk is to cheese. 5 people whom for a period of little less than 2 days,
bonded in a way I didn’t think possible. The 6^th was justifiably
busy but without him, this would never have happened. Ganeshana Maduwe

was
truly a special moment. Whether sitting in the lodge and engaging in
bitching sessions that could give all the aunties of this world a run for
their money or chilling out under the lighthouse on Suratkal beach. Whether
we were eating a truly sumptuous meal on G’s terrace or engaging in
conversation sprawled all over G’s room. This is a holiday I won’t soon
forget. I suppose I could say that for all of us. However, for now, I would
like to start at the beginning and move on. After all, we are not in
Imaginos and things here did have a start and a finish in sequential
order.

26^th evening was when we set off on our merry
adventure after a session of Overkill, Nevermore, Dosas and Cauliflower
Sambar. A bus ride saw us begin to relax. No more worries about work for a
good four days. The bus deposited us in Suratkal at 6:30am and that was when
our merry adventure really took off. Breakfast was consumed and directions
to G’s house obtained. Unfortunately, we overshot the destination by a good
way and if not for a friendly samaritan who let us jump over his compound
wall and show us the way we may have still been wandering all around
Suratkal. The level of relaxation I achieved on this trip was truly special.
I achieved a level of absolute sloth and the usual accompanying guilt was
remarkably missing. Meeting G for the first time was something I’d been
looking forward to and the man did not disappoint.

R blew into the room like a tornado and S followed albeit in less
dramatic fashion. That was when the holiday truly started. A period of
arguing about who was next in line for a bath and slowly we made our way to
KC Beach. A little inlet that was good for what it was but ultimately
insignificant in the face of the beach that was to follow. A truly fantastic
lunch was partaken off on G’s terrace and slowly we settled down to another
session of conversation with topics flowing thick and fast. An intense
period of sleep and the resultant drool from yours truly caused much
merriment dear diary. Thank something or the other the intended photograph
did not materialize. So we made our way to the lodge and proceeded to chill
out some more. A planned trip to Udupi was shelved much to the
disappointment of R. I suppose we will have to fulfill your dream of eating
Udupi dosa in Udupi another time dear Ravi.

The evening saw
us on our way to the beach and this was truly something. I cannot describe
the beauty of this beach. I simply cannot. I will have to suffice with
calling it magnificent. 3 hours on the beach and a long walk back we were
set to party. &nb

sp;

The night before
the wedding was spent in the merry company of cannabis sativa and some beer
while R and S simply decide to sleep early but not before S gave us some
valid adice on our bad habits which I cannot remember right now. Gigantic
bitching sessions ensued after a certain level of happiness was attaind
and it was good fun. I doubt if our victoms will think so but who
cares about them ? Really!

Continued......

no.37 or really bad poetry - 12/1/2003

I bathe in the warm glow that surrounds you

Live off your reflection for a little while
longer

Keep me safe. Keep me warm. Keep
me.

I shed my skin in your incandescent
light.

Naked and safe in complete
submission

Keep me safe. Keep me warm. Keep
me.

I live my life through your happy
eyes.

Vicarious and suitably irreverent.

Keep me safe. Keep me warm. Keep
me.

Soul searching; found and

destroyed

Your third eye is definately not
blind.

Keep me safe . Keep me warm. Keep
me.

Slave to my master. Slave.

no.35 or Happy and hanging on - 11/25/2003

A delightfully trippy beat. A wonderful little melody, a deep rich
bass line and we’re off. A voice. Deep. Disturbing. Strange. This song will
never be a hit. But it’s so damn good. Beautiful…almost. Crescendos. Mild.
Muted. Strange. Distorted. And we’re only at the first song. Things are off
to a fine start in this 100^th Window by Massive Attack.

---

Happy. The bombs that were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki could
not have been this powerful. I have been well and truly Pearl Harbored. A
sleeping giant has been awakened. Happy. I dance now. Why, you ask? You
shouldn’t care. Happy. I’m happy again and wonderfully so. Kill me now. Of
botched up tongue piercings and amputated limbs is this happiness born. I
can’t complain. I’m happy again and this will do just fine. I may not be
happy for long but I know that I can be happy again. Silly? That’s just me.

Roll those R’s baby. Roll ‘em.

Delirious. Not sure what that means but I like the sound of it.
Smile. Anticipation. Its fun again. Happy. Saccharine sweet with honey on
top (and a cherry if you wish). Its fun again.

---

Did you have to stand in line?

Would you know?

Can you?

Are there to be a lot of questions here?

No.

---

Pain. Good. Bad. Indifferent. Good. Happiness. Happiness in Pain.
Good clean wholesome physical pain. Trippy. Trippy. Oh so very trippy. A
good three days. A buffet of emotions laid out and confusion on what to
start with. Can I start at the beginning ? Can I start from the beginning?
Can I? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I’ll even believe. This time. I
promise.

---

Hanging on. That’s all I seem to be doing. The end of
three good days was anything but pleasant. A horrible day at work.
Absolutely horrible. I’m selling fake dreams to common innocent folk. Made
all the worse by this empty pit where my stomach used to be.It’s a perfect
fit too, the empty pit to my stomach. Another reason I wished I had a
smaller stomach. Thank something or the other for friendships I don’t
deserve and unexpected phone calls in the middle of the night.

no.34 or little bit of this, little bit of that - 11/14/2003

A man hung himself on the top of that building right there. Yeah. I wonder
if anybody lives there now. Hung himself with the help of his blue lungi. I
wonder if anybody lives there now and whatever happened to his blue lungi ?

Dilbert: Can nobody show any empathy anymore ?

Dogbert: Get out of my way. You're blocking my view of

the
wall.

A woman walking on the streets illuminated by the light of my car. She
looks fine. Hello lovely lady. Fancy a ride in my fancy car ?

Is that music I hear ?

Lux Occulta is quite the band. Brilliant. Bizzarre. Mindblowing when on
stimulants. However, above all, Lux Occulta are simply briiliant.

---

Is free will for real ? Does it exist at all ? Is it not but a leaf
blown away in the storm of circumstance ?

Yes Dear Diary, even I can pick a dozen holes in that little bit but I
still like the sound of it.

---

"Look at him now. From confused angry little boy to God. we cannot
ignore him anymore. We dare not."

"I do not know what is more pathetic. Your fear of this lad or you
using God to describe people of no consequence."

...............and so begins the first chapter of the epic and sure to
be bestselling upon never being published "How I Became God."

no.33 or the love of my life - 11/11/2003

Yesterday I met the woman of my dreams. She was huge. Not fat but huge. If
she was on top of me, there'd be no way for me to hear any music that was
played. Hubba Hubba! I think I'm in love. She's just landed in town and so
does not have a visiting card yet. So no phone number. She has a
wierd name that I forgot. Why do these things happen to me ? This is
the woman of my dreams and I don't have her name. Her boss e-mailed me
today. If only it was she who had e-mailed me. Tchaa!

A friend quoted what I said in his blog. that made my day Dear Diary. I
feel so special and alive.

In other news, this weekend was totally rotten. By the time I met my
friends at night, all I could think about was going home and sleeping. I
hate working on the weekends. I hate working on Sundays a little more than
working on Saturdays but all in all, I hate working on the weekends.

I'm planning to take an off day on Friday. That should give me a long
weekend and the Pentagram/ Mother Jane show should be good to unwind at.

In other news, Clandestine is reaching a momentum that is becoming a
little scary. I hope I don't shirk away from this.

My Bombay trip seems to be in doubt. Work takes precedence yet again.

Last night my cat proved yet again that he is capable of malicious thought.
Usually, when he comes into my room, I can sense that it will cost me a
couple of CD cases and maybe some sheets of loose paper that are lying
around apart from lots of cat hair that is shed all over my bed. Yesterday
though, things took a slightly more sinister turn. He looks at me with his
"sad kitten" eyes after dropping a couple of CDs and then as I'm shouting at
him flicks at the remainin two CDs on my table and sends them crashing onto
the floor. He then rolls over onto his stomach and looks at me with an
expression of absolute love and devotion. My cat is an evil, manipulative
son of a bitch (or whatever she cats are called).

no. 32 or Pull me out of Lake Boredom - 11/4/2003

...and so i've been beaten down. Lord Boredom took a club and beat me
till I lay on the side of the road in a bloody mess. The Exploited's
Beat The Bastards is the soundtrack to my own beatdown of Shamrockian
proportions. My parents will probably object to the soundtrack. Atleast
i hope they do.

After many trials and tribulations I got my hands on the new Vital Remains
CD thanks to a friend. I've heard it twice so far and its just dull. A
definate dissapointment. Benton sounds better than he has in a long long
time and the drumming is quite brilliant but overall this was a dull dull
album. A trip to
snoreville.

; &

nbsp;
Still, it is Vital ****ing Remains and hopefully it'll grow on me. But a
Forever Underground this album is not.

My cat destroyed my room yesterday. 3 CD cases, 2 books and
my leather belt. If I didn't love the bugger so much I'd ship him
off to a not so friendly neighbouring country.

My pot is shaping up well and a plant has taken life. However, the pot is
too small and in another few days the plant will outgrow it. I wonder what I
shall do with it then. The plant not the pot Dear Diary.

I finished reading Ender's Game last night. I liked this book. I liked it
lots. I'm contemplating on getting the whole series. Tales Of Alvin Maker is
among my favourite fantasy series and hopefully Card
delievers in the Ender series as well. The final conflict was a bit of
a letdown although the visualisations in my head were quite awesome even if
I do say so myself. After all, who can argue with what goes on inside my
head. The only problem is that the Ender series is now 8 books long and that
is going to be an expensive affair. Good news though is that the
6th book in the Tales Of Alvin Maker is out this month.

I'm thinking of cutting work today. I can feel a headache coming on. I read
somewhere that men use the headache excuse a lot more than women do when

it
comes to matters of the bed. My macho male psyche should ponder on that as
should you Dear Diary.

I'm going on a holiday later this month. That should be
good.

no. 31 or a private conversation - 10/31/2003

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

you read his online blog ?

KC says:

no

KC says:

i got enough probs of my own

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hahahahahaha

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

you read mine ?

KC says:

no

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

tchaa!

KC says:

i dont even know where it is put up

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

damn!

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

aah well **** it then

KC says:

where si it?

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

one sec

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

http://www.freeopendiary.com/entrylist.asp?authorcode=B377017

KC says:

is it long?

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

there are 30 entries

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

some are long some are short

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

just pick one based on the title

KC says:

whty cant you people just stick to the point

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hahahahahahahahahaha

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

****! you are one funny ****er

KC says:

ill go home and read it

KC says:

that means i dont wanna read it

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hahahahahahahahahahaha

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

wokay

KC says:

i had to say that

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hehehehe

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

arsehole

KC says:

there are people who actually wait for me to go home and read
it

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

eh ?

KC says:

when i say 'oh really!!! wow!!! ill go home and read it!!!' that doesnt
mean you always wait till the time i reach home and expect me to go thru
others life tradegies

KC says:

i think good knowledge of english language is a crime

KC says:

you guys kinda see to it that you use each and every phrase from it until
you're exhausted

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hahahahahaha

KC says:

you know what prozak writes such long and hi-fi
reviews?

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

why ?

KC says:

cause people spend more time on his site trying to figuring out whether the
review was positive or negative

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

hahahahahahahahahaha

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

aah ****!

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

damn! you are on a roll today

KC says:

i had to speak out, sooner or later

KC says:

anyways.. i should go now

KC says:

gonna sit in my cabin and gonna make that face you very well know hoping
that i get home early

KC says:

enjoy your cds gk, cya laters

KC says:

Ashes To Ashes, Lust To Lust says:

see ya bro

no.30 or Missing Girls, Pots and Music - 10/30/2003

She went out to grab a pack of cigarettes a while back. She's still not
back and I may have lost here for good. Replacement is going to be a rather
tricky option. I've never had to replace her before. She's just been
there. A comforting presence that I could always fall back on. Motivation
has lost me and so far its not much fun.

To say that my birthday was a blast would be an understatement. I had an
absolutely great time over the weekend. An unbelievable haul of music
and the company of friends. Thats all I needed to have a good time
and damn, did I get it.

In an interesting devolopment, a pot has been placed on my bathroom window
ledge. A few weeds and one flowering plant are all there is in this fine
pot. I wonder if this is tacit approval of my experiments in gardening. I
wonder. The last time, it was the diabolical intent of my mother and
the gardener that put an end to my experiments. Perhaps Ican
continue my experiments but only in the restricted area of the pot.
Aaah well, who can fathom the minds of mothers ?

To say that I'm feeling bored would be an understatement. All I really want to do
right now is go home lie down on my big rather comfortable bed and sleep to the
sounds of Sutcliffe Jugend. Unfortunately If I could I would but I can't so I won't.

Work is just becoming incredibly dull. What happened to the days of old
when work meant having to actually think instead of this cut and paste file
file file mountains of paper and reams of computer sheet ? I would in an
ideal world like to take a break for a week. Just sit at home, stretch my
legs, catch up on my reading and listen to music again. Something I have
neglected rather badly in recent times.

You say that we are all god's children then can you please explain how any
father could inflict his children with so much pain ? This rather depressing
lyric has been going on and on in my head for the last couple of days.
rather unlike me but what the hell!

My current playlist of music is a little varied. Infact I am just a little
embarrassed about it. Grindcore sits with Massive Attack and Jerry Cantrell.
Electronica sits with Noise and I'm sitting in the middle of it all.

Anyway, dear Diary, such is life I suppose. I'm so damn
tired.

no.29 or bringers of pain, death and disease - 10/21/2003

They are rather large. Like two silent hunters, they emerge from the
mother ship. Elongated and extended outward while still attached the mother.
Their twin purpose in life is to only become bigger. Not necessarily better
or brighter but bigger. They come across the peaceful planet Bottle
somewhere in the galaxy of the Tub and immediately, their hunger is
awakened.

The power of these two silent hunters is such that they do not kill.
They simply overwhelm with their sheer size. Slowly squeezing the planet
Bottle. However, while large and capable of overwhelming everything in their
path thanks to their size, they do have a few weaknesses. A weak spot that
is present in both is at the top right hand side, which when put to work can
either succumb to pressure or deliver awe inspiring strength.

Planet Bottle, like most planets put up little resistance. After all,
what can one do against an overwhelming enemy such as these two bringers of
death, sickness and disease? The scariest thing about these bringers of
death is that they do not kill. They simply suck out all the energy and
resource from Planet Bottle. They do this in an unbelievably deceptive
manner and Bottle itself does not realize what has happened until it is far
too late. When they finally release their hold on Planet Bottle, which to
all outward appearances is fine and dandy, the Planet simply ceases to
exist. A falling away from the cosmos if you will.

Needless to say I am very proud of my twins. After all, which mother
would not be proud of such overwhelming bringers of pain, death and disease?
The universe stands stock still when I move about it. Not daring to draw
attention to them. Who would like to share Bottle’s fate after all? The
universe can only watch on in powerless anticipation and hope and pray that
my next victim will not be one of them.

My bringers of pain,
death and disease. My thighs, they are huge. And they come to conquer. Will
you stand in between their path ?

Work is a pain. I have been told repeatedly by a
friend to take a holiday. Unfortunately, taking a holiday implies a loss of
control and drifting upon my return. I cannot afford that at this point.


Note to self: Remember to take loan from bank to
buy CDs from Vile E.

A dull and boring few days. Its been raining
almost nonstop here for the last three days Dear Diary and frankly I am sick
of it. There are no girls in wet white tops running around either.


The chinki is back. Atleast my favourite chinki
is. another long mutual staring session happened last Saturday. I wonder why
she does not come down from her terrace. I wonder.

The festival of lights is upon us and I hope I get
a holiday for it.



This weekend, I turn 24 Dear Diary. I feel so
young.

So my neighbour's daughter decides to have an
accident, go into a coma for 2 days and then die. This "sad" news was
conveyed to me by my mother a couple of days ago. I was supposed to feel sad
that a young woman heading towards the prime of her life has had her life
cruelly snuffed out. I did not feel sad at all and I could not care less.
However, the fact that I did not feel anything when my mom told me this
makes me a little sad. Am i dead inside ? Am i as apathetic as the people I
rage against ? I wonder for a while and then say to myself, "who gives a
good goddamn!"

no.28 or Of Chocolates and Glue - 10/13/2003

Well, am very very sleepy right now. The hash chocolates I had yesterday
have bombed me so badly I can barely keep my eyes open. Yesterday was fun
but also just a teeny bit scary. The level of bombedness was over the line.
Still,quite a nice trip. Now, am just waiting for some strong coffee and
some hot food.

Well, those damn chocolates were quite the trip. Yesterday I had a hard
time remembering what a vaccum cleaner was called. "umm... that sucking
thingy you use to clean stuff. damn! whats the word for it?"

I suppose my brain cells are not replacing themselves fast enough. No
more! No More I say! I think I'll take a break for some time. Or atleast
till the weekend.

Work is going on quite nicely. I'm generally feeling quite happy even
though the hours are quite killing.

I finished the House Of Chains yesterday. Not as mindblowing as Memories
of Ice but still pretty damn good. The entry of karsa Orlong into the
malazan worldalone is worth the price of the book. Superb charectarisation
and he gets all the best lines in the book.

In other news, we have an old fashioned iron bell at home that is used as a
door bell. Its big, heavy and has a wonderful chime to it. Today when I went
home in the afternoon and rang the damn thing, I got a sort of buzz on
theleft top side of my forefinger. A slight prickly sensation still
persists especially when i run a finger over the affected area. I wonderhow
that happened. The prickly sensation has greatly reduced now.

Today morning I was in a long boring meeting. Somewhere around the 30th
minute of the meeting, the very tip of my nose started to itch. Believe me,
Dear Diary, it itched so badly that after a while I could not take it. I ran
out of the meeting and started to furiously scratch my nose in front of
about 15 people. Not a smart thing to do I can tell you.

We're re-carpetting the first floor at work and the whole damn place smells
of industrial strength glue. No prizes for guessing where I'm sitting right
now Dear Diary. Which reminds me, I need to source some more of those
heavenly chocolates for the weekend. Good me! What a trip.

In other news ... there is none.

no. 27 or Of nails, chains and gritting teeth - 10/10/2003

Dear Diary,

A few days ago something rather disgusting came over me. I've been
growing my thumbnail for quite some time now. I grow it largely as a weapon
to fend off potential rapists who would like to take advantage of my
virginal body. Anyway, I am digressing here Dear Diary. So I have this
thumbnail thats grown long and is hard and rather ugly looking. A few days
ago when I was done answering a call of nature or taking a piss (as you like
it Dear Diary), I got this irrational urge to scrape the yellow stained
residue on the public urinal I had just used with my thumbnail. I almost
reached out and started scraping when my mind said no and I plunged my
nail between my teeth and bit it off. Thank something or the
other for teeth. I really really mean that. I fear that God is slowly
loosing his mind. I feel like Roland in The Wastelands.

In other news, today so far has been really good at work. Things are
moving along rather nicely.

My social life has come to a standstill. This Sunday will be time to
sleep and that is all. I am also completely out of my divine herb and
strangely enough I don't miss it.

More later Dear Diary.

Midnight encounters and "arcane devastations" are planned for this
Saturday night. lets see how that turns out.

My weary bones are begging for release. I long for my pillow and the
house of chains. That, unfortunately is a good 12 hours away. Survival is my
motto. survival and a maintenace if my inner equilibrium whatever the hell
that means.

Sometimes all you want to do
is scream but most times all you can do is grit your teeth and get on with
it.

Boo Yaa Tribe's "Another Body
Murdered" has been playing incessantly in my head. A pity I gave away their
CD. I wonder whom I gave it to.

Welcome to the pleasuredome, I forget the rest of the lyrics. I'm
heartily sick of the Tribe.

The weekend is upon us and eyes are fast closing shut. Even God
needs his sleep or so it seems. Sleep must wait for now however. Wait for
another 6 hours atleast. After all what is a weekend without Java City
and discussin personal ideologies? Not a weekend at all.

Java City was fun although the Arcane Devastations did not quite
materialize. I did see a fight so I guess thats something.

I hate working on Sundays.

no.26 or vagueness and obscurity - 10/9/2003

no.26 or vagueness and obscurity - 10/9/2003

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A cursed God. says:
do tell

Lead us, Warleader! says:
nothing da

Lead us, Warleader! says: was just wondering

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A cursed God. says:
hey type something

Lead us, Warleader! says: something ?

Lead us, Warleader! says: or is pathetic attempt at humour simply irritating ?

Lead us, Warleader! says:

or genuinely funny in a downbeat sort of manner ?

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A cursed God. says: wierd

Lead us, Warleader! says:

or do you have

that
puzzled grin on your face right now ?

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

i can't see a word you're typing

Lead us, Warleader! says:

mortals often

say
that about me

Lead us, Warleader! says:

still nothing ?

Lead us, Warleader! says:

i guess noe

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

you have become a cyber-mute

Lead us, Warleader! says:

you have

become cyber
blind dear JP

Lead us, Warleader! says:

and i will post

this
exchange on my blog for the world to look at

Lead us, Warleader! says:

and maybe

smile or
laugh at

Lead us, Warleader! says:

still nothing eh

?

Lead us, Warleader! says:

very well o

vague and
obscure person

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

oddly i can read your text in the pop-up
window

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

but not in the chat wndow

Lead us, Warleader! says:

dammit

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

strange no?

Lead us, Warleader! says:

thankfully i did

not
shower you with insults

Lead us, Warleader! says:

very

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

heh yea

Lead us, Warleader! says:

but this is msn

after
all

Lead us, Warleader! says:

and you are

the vague
and obscure one so I guess there is some poetic irony or something or the
other to it

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

indeed

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

esp coz i have to keep closing the chat
window each time so can see what yer sayng

I am Howard Phillips Lovecraft. A
cursed God. says:

very labour intensive process

Lead us, Warleader! says:

indeed

Lead us, Warleader! says:

I think I'll stop
troubling you now

.....and thus ends another vague and obscure session with the man who
would be God in a better world.

no.25 or 2 good days - 10/7/2003

"That one can rest eyes on the thing one worships is
an assertion of control at worst, or at best the illusion that one can
negotiate over one's fate."

"And you find such notions pathetic, Onrack ?"

"I find most notions pathetic, Trull
Sengar."

An extremely tiring day is slowly winding to an end. Tomorrow will be
much the same as will the rest of the week. Tiredness (is that a word? I'm
feeling too lazy to type that in word) will be my companion for many days to
come. Whoever said God had an easy job should swap seats with me.

The entry of a brother into my world is welcome. I suddenly find myself
having to think and constantly be on the alert for the alternative is to
have my thunder stolen and I cannot have that. I like this. I think it will
work out rather well. It is only a matter of time before the minions accept
him into the fold and I will have strengthened my own power base with him at
my side.

The haircut for one reason or another has not happened. I hope I do not
take up more of your space Dear Diary with my soliloquies on barbers,
haircuts and other related matters. However hope is supposedly a dangerous
thing.

Today, we had this high powered meeting at work. The head of another
company, this bright, aggressive and attractive lady with her minions came
over to our office to discuss matters of work. For all their bluster they
seemed rather nervous. Yes, I understand that God makes most people nervous
but I still can't quite get this. Long before my arrival at the gates of
Godhood, people I met at work wether at my office or in their own office or
even in a nuetral venue seemed nervous. Now these are people who are by and
large more qualified, more knowledgable and generally have achieved far more
than I have. I find this strangely disturbing and perplexing. Offcourse, all
this may only be another chapter in the "'A Megalomaniac looses his
head" saga but still I can't help but ponder on this.

I must go home soon. I will update you later Dear Diary with the
happenings of today. Today may well turn out to be a damp squib and if it
does, damage control and spin doctoring will take up most of my brain.
Fortunately I'm rather good at that.

Its a new day and it brings great promise. My bones feel so weary that
if I closed my eyes I could drift into sleep and probably get up
early tomorrow morning. So far the morning has been good. Bangalore was
never meant to yield a high response and as a testing ground I think
today and tomorrow will be good. Saturday and Sunday will be crunch time and
once we hit the Sardar belt, we will be on a roll.

More later Dear Diary. I am on my way home to catch some much needed
sleep and back in the evening.

Dear Diary, among the waves of melancholy and pessimism something a
little bright. The new project is a success. The enthusiasm and energy of my
team has left me humbled. I am truly among some rather special people.

..and on that note I finish this rather long and jumbled entry. I go
home now to read of Karsa and Trull, about Heboric and Felisin and hope
that Mappo and Icarium will re-surface in the magnificent House Of Chains.



...but not before I leave this little foot note.

or maybe not.

no.24 or Hating The Sun - 10/6/2003

Dear Diary,

Today I would like to talk about another bunch of non-happenings and maybe
a little truth that may or may not have happened in my life in the past few
days. I hope you don't mind me writing all this Dear Diary but I really
don't have a choice. A time comes when even God becomes sick of his own
voice.

Glorified drivers are generally middle management types who are asked to
ferry their bosses around and also their clients around. The job usually
comes to us poor saps if the boss wants to look important but the office
driver is not available or if the client is too important to be ferried by
the office driver and the boss does not know how to drive. My client who was
in town for a week is a nice guy. He thanked me till I felt embarrassed,
treated me to beer almost everyday so all in all I really can't complain.

An absolutely insane week of work has left my social life in a shambles.
There wasn't much of one to begin with so the pain itself is minimal. Thank
something or the other for small mercies.

In other news, it's time for a haircut again. I shall let you know how that
turns out Dear Diary. Allready long overdue and my beard may well be hiding
an army of something or the other. I know I've dropped enough food onto my
beard to facilitate the grazing of my beloved sheep. So who knows what
wonders hide in there.

In other news, I finally got the fourth book in Steven Erikson's "Tales Of
The Malazan Book Of The Fallen." I felt an irrational happiness at seeing
this book in the store and when the old man sold it to me for a hundred and
sixty bucks, I almost hugged him right there. The first 260 odd pages of the
book deal with a minor charectar from the second book. I guess Erikson has
plans for Thelomen Toblakai after all. Dancer or Cotillion has aquirred an
almost benevolent air and the interactions betwen him and Kalam and again
between him and Crokus/ Cutter are quite nicely done. I could go on and on
and on about Erikson's quite magnificent saga but that can wait for another
avenue. After all, it is hardly appropriate for God to gush endlessly about
a mortal (no matter how worthy the mortal is).

The chinkies seem to have disappeared from the house opposite the paan
shop. I nurse a broken heart and think up various conspiracy theories to
attribute to their disappearence. They are probably grazing sheep or cows or
whatever it is that they graze in the north east but it is true that i will
miss them.

I am stuck in the day shift. I must accept this and move on. However, I
hate the day shifts. I see the Sun on the way to work. I see the Sun on my
way to lunch. I see the Sun on my way back home and I see too damn much of
the Sun. I am coming to hate the Sun with an irrational intensity. The neon
lights at works comfort me but I dread going out. I am God. I should be able
to work in whatever damn shift I want to. Unfortunately, even God has a few
people above him in the management hierarchy. Still, I hate the day shift.

Starting from Wednesday, a rather important project takes off. A lot rides
on this and failure is not an option.

Till we meet again Dear Diary, remember to be kind to old ladies and help
those blind men cross the streets (women too)

no.23 or Two people in my head - 9/25/2003

So I'm working now. Yes I've been working for a little more than 2 years think. Sometimes I loose track of how long I've actually been working. I suppose that is a rather strange thing to happen considering that I'm not yet into the "senile with drool dribbling down my mouth" category.

Die Mother******. Die. Die.

So I've been working an average of around about 12-13 hour days for some time now and generally I don't mind it. Hell. In fact it’s probably my fucking duty seeing as how I will one day be my own boss. I like my job and I know I'm damn good at it.

Die Mother******. Die. Die.

But then, every time I actually start feeling good about myself, this pesky little voice starts off in my head. GK, do this, GK do that. GK you are a looser. GK you’re pathetic and so on and on and on. Sometimes I'm able to block this little voice in my head.

Die Mother******. Die. Die.

Other times, I seem to forget things. I have lapses in my memory stream. There are whole hours and days (usually the weekends) that I simply can't remember. Sometimes I look at the posts I've made and I can't believe that I actually wrote that shit. I mean I am not God. I'm really not.

Die Mother******. Die. Die.

Recently though, things have been pretty bad. I think I know what is going on and it scares me. I think there's somebody in my head. At times I'm reminded of that line from the song by Seal, "There are two people walking in my head and one of them's got a gun to shoot the other one."

Seal?! What the ****! Die Mother*****. Die. Die.

So anyway, it’s become so bad that I'm scared to sleep. What if I never wake up. I don't think the person inside my head is a very nice guy. What if he trolls all over this wonderful board? I would never be able to forgive myself for bringing him out and letting him loose. Then again, if I never wake up, I would not have to bother with any of his
nonsense would I?

What the ****? Now this lame ass poseur is scaring me.

Die Mother******. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die

DEAD

Well, that's one sorry ass mofo we won't see ever again.
Nobody messes with God.

no.22 or of wierdness, perversions and dance - 9/18/2003

Yesterday was a really really good day professionally. If by some miracle,
I'd got laid yesterday it would have been absolutely perfect.

In some rather confusing news, I've discovered that there may be more than
one cute girl waving/ smiling at me from the same house. So this one girls
waves and smiles and inflates my ego blah blah go to no.21, and then the
next day this other girl smiles and waves at me from the terrace. Now, since
the first girls face was obscured from view, I'm not sure if it was the same
girl or if it was 2 different girls. Hell, I'm not sure if the cute girl who
I used to lech at (yes, lets be brutally honest here) was the girl who waved
at me thru her window in the first place. Sometimes I think I had a
flashback and hallucinated it all. Still, with my new shift timings I miss
the girls in the house and will not probably see them till this weekend. I
think I can live with that. I only wish that all these damn chinkys didn't
look so much alike.

In other news, my cat seems to have a rather bizzarre fetish. He follows me
into the loo everytime I want to relieve myself and although he generally
sits in the bathtub and out of sight, I find this strangely disconcerting.
My cat, I am beginning to believe was a serial killer/ rapist/ general no
good in his previous life.

I have found myself a high priestess. A rare jewel among this morass of
ineptitude with a truly frightening potential to become something rather
special.

I have so far managed to stay clean this week inspite of having a rather
large stash of some truly inspiring herb. I am rather proud of myself about
this although I suppose my acolytes expect nothing less from their God.

In other news, i felt rather happy today and nothing could take away my good
cheer. Thanks to a rather wonderful day at work yesterday, I went home
pumped up and could not sleep. So I listened to some Cannibal Corpse and
danced the day away till I passed out. Yes, yes, not particularly Godly, but
it was Cannibal Corpse after all.

I just realised that my diary is all about me. Should I include some
charectars who can come into this factional tale and spice things up? So far
I think the only semi-permanent charectar in here is my Cat and him too I
have not named yet. I wonder. Since most of my friends are either perverts
or general wierdos I don't think I will. Not yet anyway. There's enough
perversion and wierdness here for now.

no. 21 or chinky love - 9/11/2003

So I'm back to working days now and its strange. I actually see the morning
sun and also see the sunset. Wierd shit.

Innocent flirtations happened yesterday. This cute girl who I normally
exchange glances and smiles with waved at me from her 1st floor window when
I was having my usual smoke before heading to work. I suddenly felt like a
little boy and had a huge grin for the rest of the day. After some hand
signalling and waves and smiles I went on my way to work. Today, I see her
again and its the same damn thing. I wonder why she does not come down and
actually talk to me. I hope there isn't another parent/ dictator here. That
would be a little too much.

I've noticed a lot of auto rickshaws in town going around with
anti-pollution slogans. "Black Smoke, The Lungs Choke" and similar such
words painted on their backs. Much like the previous fad of autos going
around with the "Hi (insert name here)" slogan, this too will probably be a
passing fad. Today I actually saw an autorickshaw with the anti-pollution
slogan that was not emitting black smoke. Another fad of some sort I guess.

In other news, this weekend promises to be good. Lets hope the promises are
actually held to.

I drank beer after ages yesterday and the acid is back big time. I should
listen to my doctor once in a while I think.

My cat seems to have stopped courting his mother. Maybe it was just a roll
in the sack so to speak. Cats sure can be disgusting. Almost as disgusting
as us.

I was supposed to have a meeting with my boss now. I call him and he's still
having dinner. There are times when I feel like breaking stuff on his head
and there are other times I feel like breaking stuff over his head! There
was once a time when I would worship the very ground he walked on. That
offcourse was before I discovered my godhood. How the mighty crumble before
me.

no.20 or Cats and Incest - 9/3/2003

Now the curtain of cloud that had hung till now about the eastern heights
was rent into shreds, and Koshtra Belorn stood like a bride before them, two
or three miles to eastward, facing the slanting rays of the sun. On all her
vast precipices scarce a rock showed bare, so encrusted were they with a
dazzling robe of snow. More lovely she seemed and more graceful in her airy
poise than they had yet beheld her. Juss and Brandoch Daha rose up, as men
arise to greet a queen in her majesty. In silence they looked on her for
some minutes.

Then Brandoch Daha spake,saying, "Behold thy bride, O Juss."

I wish I could write like that.

Anyway, people who forward sms's and e-mails just bug the crap out of me. I
mean, do I really need to know about some guy who went out partying, passed
out and then woke up the next morning in a tub of ice with his kidney
missing and a note saying "Dial 911" ? No I do not. Who does? SMS's forwards
irritate me even more. People who forward me stupid fucking joke SMS's and
then complain that I don't reply to them are worthy contendors to my hall of
"people I'd like to see dead in a fiery car crash" . Interestingly enough,
Princess Diana (that blight on morality) was in that particular list. The
car crash was not particularly fiery though.

Anyway here's an interesting link a fiend sent me:
http://www.memecentral.com/antidote.htm

Moving onto slightly more pleasant matters, due to an absence of female cats
in my neighbourhood, my cat is forced to court his own mother. Yes, well not
very pleasant I suppose. I accept that cats don't really have a view on
incest but still this makes me vaguely uncomfortable. Consider this if you
will: When my cat and his mother get it on and my cat's mother gives birth
to a litter, the litter will have a brother and a father and they will both
be the same cat. These are the thoughts that run through my head. I've said
it before and I'm saying it again, I am a very deep person.

In other news, work has suddenly become rather hectic. Tomorrow I start work
at 12pm and finish at 3:30am the next frigging day. I need a holiday and I
need it bad.

Billy Milano of the infamous SOD and the rather dull MOD has a website of
his own. A friend told me about this a while back and I'm glad to see that
Milano is still kicking ass. Speak English Or Die for all its xenophobia was
still a kick ass album thanks to Dan Lilker and Scott Ian and Milano now
seems to be busy producing a bunch of punk hardcore bands along with
spreading his world view through his web sites. His attacks on Serj Tankian,
Morello and Jane Fonda though just seem a little contrived. I'm sure there
are more worthy celebrities who can be attacked for their world views.
Still, it was pretty cool to see Milano still kicks ass.

Time for my cancer break.

no.20 or Cats and Incest - 9/3/2003

Now the curtain of cloud that had hung till now about the eastern heights
was rent into shreds, and Koshtra Belorn stood like a bride before them, two
or three miles to eastward, facing the slanting rays of the sun. On all her
vast precipices scarce a rock showed bare, so encrusted were they with a
dazzling robe of snow. More lovely she seemed and more graceful in her airy
poise than they had yet beheld her. Juss and Brandoch Daha rose up, as men
arise to greet a queen in her majesty. In silence they looked on her for
some minutes.

Then Brandoch Daha spake,saying, "Behold thy bride, O Juss."

I wish I could write like that.

Anyway, people who forward sms's and e-mails just bug the crap out of me. I
mean, do I really need to know about some guy who went out partying, passed
out and then woke up the next morning in a tub of ice with his kidney
missing and a note saying "Dial 911" ? No I do not. Who does? SMS's forwards
irritate me even more. People who forward me stupid fucking joke SMS's and
then complain that I don't reply to them are worthy contendors to my hall of
"people I'd like to see dead in a fiery car crash" . Interestingly enough,
Princess Diana (that blight on morality) was in that particular list. The
car crash was not particularly fiery though.

Anyway here's an interesting link a fiend sent me:
http://www.memecentral.com/antidote.htm

Moving onto slightly more pleasant matters, due to an absence of female cats
in my neighbourhood, my cat is forced to court his own mother. Yes, well not
very pleasant I suppose. I accept that cats don't really have a view on
incest but still this makes me vaguely uncomfortable. Consider this if you
will: When my cat and his mother get it on and my cat's mother gives birth
to a litter, the litter will have a brother and a father and they will both
be the same cat. These are the thoughts that run through my head. I've said
it before and I'm saying it again, I am a very deep person.

In other news, work has suddenly become rather hectic. Tomorrow I start work
at 12pm and finish at 3:30am the next frigging day. I need a holiday and I
need it bad.

Billy Milano of the infamous SOD and the rather dull MOD has a website of
his own. A friend told me about this a while back and I'm glad to see that
Milano is still kicking ass. Speak English Or Die for all its xenophobia was
still a kick ass album thanks to Dan Lilker and Scott Ian and Milano now
seems to be busy producing a bunch of punk hardcore bands along with
spreading his world view through his web sites. His attacks on Serj Tankian,
Morello and Jane Fonda though just seem a little contrived. I'm sure there
are more worthy celebrities who can be attacked for their world views.
Still, it was pretty cool to see Milano still kicks ass.

Time for my cancer break.

no.19 or of food, coffee and sheep - 8/25/2003

After a gap of almost two weeks I find myself returning to this forum. Yes,
dear acolytes, I come back for you.

I also come back to vent. I wish people who are over the age of 30 would not
act like little children. I wish they would not indulge in petty games of
one upmanship. I wish that I could actually tell him exactly how I feel
about him. Unfortunately jobs are relatively tough to come by these days and
so I hit reality.

In other news, Clandestine is picking up momentum much like a snowball
rolling down a snow covered hill.

In still other news, last weekend was quite nice. I actually spent time with
the family and that was good. Evenings were to get hammered with friends and
listen to some music and Lester's magnificent bass.

Late night breaks from work rule. Heading to Java City and discussing
inanities with a friend over Iced Lattes really refreshes me.

My temple is ready for consecration and my acolytes number in the hundreds.
I feel that my conquest is almost ready to begin. My acolytes remind me of
sheep. Infact they are sheep. I quite like them this way.The first few
metres I had to kick and pull them screaming but now they follow me
willingly. Well, some of us are just not lucky with women so sheep will have
to do.

In some more news, this weekend promises to be different. However, since
most weekends promise to be different and remain the same, I am reminded of
an ancient saying; "the more things change, the more they remain the same."
Yes i love my cliches.

Last Saturday, I had a rather good time. Hell, I had an absolute blast. Went
to a different restaurent for dinner. Carribean food and the amount of food
I ate was quite phenomenal. The roast chicken and the fish cutlets in
particular were divine. By the time I hit the desert table, my stomach was
about to burst. Awesome awesome food. A little pricy but well worth it.

no.18 or The Paradox of Eddison - 8/13/2003

My weekend holiday is in all probability shelved. Work yet again takes
priority. A new project will see me horrendously busy for the first week and
then lapse back into my slumber.

People lie a lot. Yes they do and much as I hate to speak universal truths,
things are just pissing me off here. People also take advantage of other
people. Well, tomorrow the hammer comes down and the old me may well
resurface.

A dull day today with nothing on my mind. E.R. Eddison is a rather strange
experience. I like his style of writing and the story is buildng up with
some promise. Yet his style is quite difficult at the same time for me to
read. So used to reading cliche ridden works of art with grade school level
language that an author who actually writes well is becoming a task to
finish.

In other news, my sentence formation and general use of the English language
is pathetic. I think I'll blame the Internet for that. Yes. Blame it on the
Internet. This faceless entity that may well be the devil in disguise.

This weekend will see me embark on my first venture into serious writing. An
alternate history if you will of a rather famous real life heroine. I plan
on making it as offensive as possible because my acolytes would have it no
other way. And after all, what am I without my Acolytes. A figment of my own
imagination probably.

In still other news, my weapons of attack have been removed from their
hiding place and thrown away. Who would have thunk it. The articles of my
great college victories have dissapeared. I was quite cheesed off but could
do nothing about it. I simply should have found a better hiding place for
them.

I think tomorrow will continue this new tradition of dull days. I see no
great happenings in the near future although great things are promised for
next week. If those great things do happen, I may well blow off a week and
head for the hills. The glass is always half full or so it seems.

no.17 or The Hoarder Of Secrets - 8/12/2003

People tell me things. I'm not sure why they do so but people tell me their
deepest darkest secrets. Often it is people I barely know who tell me these
things. Case in point being a college trip in my final year. This girl I
barely know sits next to me on the bus and in the course of the night
proceeds to tell me her whole life story including a sordid chapter in her
past of physical abuse. I had barely exchanged a dozen lines of conversation
with her during my entire college life but yet here she was telling me
things I wasn't even sure I wanted to hear. People tell me things.

In other news, my last update comes across as being rather hateful and
juvenile. I may have hurt the poor lady who chanced upon it. Aaaah well,
such is life and this little journal is a veritable Pandora's Box or so I
like to think.

In yet other news, a holiday is planned for the weekend. I hope things work
out and we have a good time. I'm planning on staying clean for the duration
of the holiday but that is still in the initial planning stage.

In some more news, it has become impossible for me to contact her. She has
been eaten by mutant cockroaches. I am certain of it. Now I simply wait for
the headlines "Giant mutant roaches found dead!" A couple of pictures of the
dead roaches may well send circulations soaring.

Today was a horribly boring day. I seem to be getting bombarded with
compliments at the work place. Unfortunately, the compliments are yet to
transform into monetary benifits. Time stood still today. Smackdown seemed
to go on forever, then work seemed to go on forever. Today, there is no TV
on the agenda. Today is death metal, coffee,cigarettes and maybe E.R.
Edisson.

no.16 or Its a Dog's life baby - 8/8/2003

As I was driving in to work today, I had a brief glimpse of a man's life.
This glimpse was in my head off course.
I realised with a blinding flash of clarity that a Man's life is actually a
Dog's life. I don't mean any dog. Oh no. You know the Dog that exists on the
scraps it can find in a bin? Thats the dog I'm talking about. I mean, think
about it. We are born into this world causing great pain to our mothers.
This single fact means that our mothers tend to try and rule our lives.
"Wash your hands son." "Don't go out to play now. It looks like it might
rain." "Eat that vegetable. Its good for you. Don't you want to be strong
like your daddy?" and they will say this even if your daddy looks like a
strong wind might blow him away. Then we or atleast most of us, get married.
Oh yeah! Sex on demand, no more shaking the lizard. Wrong! Now, its just
another woman controlling us. "Darling, don't drink that beer before dinner.
You'll ruin your appetite." "Darling, maybe those penile growth thingys can
help.I mean you don't need it but thusands of e-mails on the internet can't
all be wrong, can they?" And on and on and on..... till finally our wives
give birth to our daughters. If you thought your mom and wife were ruling
your life you've got another thing coming. "Daddy, stop smoking." "Daddy,
stop eating all that fatty food." "Daddy, you embarrass me in front of all
my friends." And so on and on and on.

Women! We can't live with them and we can't chop them up into little pieces
to feed the dog and say they're vacationing in Manali either.

Today was a rather good day. This weekend promises to be rather dull but I'm
still looking forward to it.

no.15 or Shitty days, Better Nights - 8/7/2003

I had a horrible day today. Just fucking horrible. I have not had such a
horrible day in a long time. My faith in humanity was restored though. There
are people in this world who care. I'm not one of them most times but there
are people in this world who genuinely care.

I felt a lot better after coming into work. Who would have thunk that.

Yesterday I laughed till I had tears coming down my eyes. Some good fun with
a chill friend.

I am unable to get past the gatekeeper to speak to her. I am under strict
orders to hang up when I hear the gatekeeper's voice on the phone but this
is still quite frustrating. I hope she has not been eaten by mutant
cockroaches. That would not be very pleasent. Especially for the mutant
cockroaches.

Tonight I had a rather erotic dream. A buffet of carnal desires.
Unfortunately the buffet was pure vegetarian and I was a pure
non-vegetarian. I think there is a rather deep message in this dream. I do
not know what it is, nor do I really want to know. Anyway, dinner calls and
I must answer the call.

no. 14 or Guilt and the Barber - 8/1/2003

Today I learnt an important lesson. I learnt how to grin and bear a person
you have nothing but contempt for and while doing so light a nice hot fire
under his ass. My father is a good teacher. My father rocks!

In other news I finally visited the goddamned barber. Yes I damned him with
all my heart today. I've been going to the same salon for close to 9 years
now and for the last 7 I have asked the barber to shave my head. I have seen
a variety of barbers go by. Long haired hippy types, short haired regular
looking chappies, smelly barbers and not so smelly barbers. Yet every one of
them must ask me how I would like my hair cut. After 7 years of the same
hairstyle today I felt a little irritated when the barber asked me how I
would like my hair done. I wonder if the barber feels a little let down when
some one asks him to shave his head. Does he feel guilty that all he does is
run the electric shaver over my head and still charge me 30 bucks for it?
These are the questions that increasingly plague my life. I am a very deep
person indeed.

In still other news, the weekend is upon us. I feel that this weekend may
well be a little special. Of course I feel that every weekend and most times
my feelings don't know jack. In fact I have come to believe that my feelings
have shit for brains.

This week was largely unremarkable. Clandestine is picking up some momentum
and now we are in some stage of readiness for our plans of world domination.
I'd be happy to start with city domination but the world is our ultimate
goal.

no.13 or Of Godhood and barbers - 7/30/2003

I wanted this entry to have a cool name. I really did. Unfortunately
whatever creative juices I had going for me seem to have run dry. Hopefully
this is only temporary.

This week so far has been rather dull. I sat at homw for most of the time.
The acid is back big time and that is not very pleasent. Aaah well, atleast
it is not piles or gonorreah that I have. Thank something or the other for
small mercies.

In other news I called her. Finally.

In still other news, I am yet to see a barber. This has indeed become quite
perplexing. Freud might tie this in to some latent desire to become a
homosexual. I would rather look at this as a latent desire to start looking
like the God that I am. After all, how many bald Gods with neatly trimmed
goatees have you seen? And, I am destined for Godhood, so may as well look
the part.

A long association has been severed. I hope I was not premature in doing so.

Clandestine is set to take off. The overwhelmingly negative reaction the
name is getting has me worried. Is it truly a bad name? The bard may not
think so, but I am beginning to be plagued by the beast that is self doubt.

Anyway, tomorrow and the rest of the week promises plenty. This weekend
promises to be quite good especially after the disaster that was last
weekend.

no.12 or A horribly good mood - 7/25/2003

I feel good today. The day started off like any other. Rescued my dumbass
cat once I got home in the morning, made myself some fried eggs flavoured
with Mango pickle, and went to sleep. The fact that my gardner had cruelly
plucked out the plant and thrown it away did not really bother me. Blah! Its
only another 6-7 years of waiting for the next plant.

Surprisingly enough, my unreasonably good mood hit me when I came into work.
I realised that I am bloody good at my job and I also realised that I may
well have found a bunch of people I can actually get along with apart from
the 2-3 friends that I have. Both these insanely bright revalations have
left me quite pleased with myself. Imagine the pleasure my acolytes must
feel. Damn! I'm god.

In other news, I am unable to see a barber. This has become a true mystery
of my life. I cannot understand this. A piss poor joke has turned on me and
is viciously taking bites off my ample behind. I go to the complex near my
home to visit the barber, then I realise I have forgotten my wallet. Or I
meet buddies from an almost forgotten past and forget to visit the barber
amid an excess of nicotine, caffiene and smoke. No fear. I shall visit the
barber tomorrow. Or the day after.

I am also unable to call her. This is actually becoming quite scary. I'm not
sure if some outside force is taking control of my life and making me act in
this rather wierd manner. If this continues to happen, I will loose her and
start looking like a hippie. I'm not yet sure which will be worse but when I
do find out, I will be the first to know.

The weekend is upon us although I may be saddled with some work for a part
of it. A parallel quest gains wings tomorrow. Hopefully we will fly with it
and hopefully not fly like Icarus. I do not fancy a long fall to my rather
messy death with feathers and wax as a shroud. Come to think of it, not many
people would.

no.11 or the Space between cars - 7/24/2003

So I'm stuck today at a traffic light. A car is about 5-7 feet in front of
me. I get this uncontrollable urge to move forward and do the whole bumper
to bumper line. I managed to resist the urge but it set me wondering. Why
did I feel the need to move that 5-7 feet when i knew that it did not really
matter. I would still be stuck in the red light. I would still be behind the
same car. Such are the questions that plague my life. I am a very deep
person indeed.

The concept of true love amazes me. I love my parents and my sister and my
cat but the whole concept of this one person in this world who is meant for
me and I will find eternal happiness with that one person just seems like so
much bull propogated by Hallmark and the bard. although the bard says it a
lot better than Hallmark will ever say it. I laugh at people who talk about
true love. The best that we can hope for is a friend who will agree to spend
the rest of our lives with us and hopefully not kill us somewhere down the
line.

Teen angst irritates me. Especially when the person going thru it is long
past his teen years.

Today has been reasonably good so far. Chilling out at work is fun but I
must not get used to it. My boss will not be on leave forever and I thank
something or the other for that.

This week has not delivered on the promised plenty. Atleast not yet.
Hopefully tomorrow.

Renewing old aquaintances is quite rewarding. One of the many things the
internet is good for.

no.10 or Humiliation and its spin-offs 7/23/2003

Revenge is a dish best served cold. The Godfather is my most favourite book of all time and I believe Mario Puzo thru Vito has taught me a few things. My time will come soon.

The plant grows nicely. I am happy when I see it but due to nature of the plant I cannot display it publicly. I live in apprehension that the gardner will pluck it out and throw it away with the weed. That would be some irony.


I actually got some work done today. Not bad at all and am quite proud of myself. The fear of failure is high. The stakes are higher.


I will soon take off on a holiday. Re-charge those batteries or change them if I have to but a holiday is a must.


The rain leaves me feeling oddly discontented. I used to wish for rain when i was in school and hope that the girls in my class got their white tops all wet from the rain. These days, I wish that the rain only comes down during the weekend. Priorities change I guess.


I must call her soon. I keep remembering too late everyday. I wonder if I do this on purpose. Analytical diarreah is a deadly disease.

no.9 or How to say NO 7/22/2003

I find it hard to say no. I must learn from Vito on how I can say no to people. I end up saying yes to everything and then have no time to either complete the task or do the job in a half assed manner.

I feel irritated when people complain that the favour I have done them has not satisfied them. DO IT YOURSELF THEN!!! Stoopid fricking morons.

I may end up killing an aquaintance one of these days. He is beginning to really irritate me. I will not kill him in the physical sense but simply kill the relationship. I must find a way to do this without causing any collateral damage. No place in my temple for this fool.


My acolytes are growing in number and become stronger everyday. I still am not wearing a dhoti and shawl and I still do not dream of electric sheep. Thank something or the other for small mercies.


I will be meeting the cows soon. It is not something I look forward to but occasionally family commitments must be met. So, I will sit with an empty grin on my face and listen to brain dead conversation and reply to the same 5 questions I get asked everytime I see the cows. I will smile through all of it for afterall I am a "nice boy."


I do not hate people. No. I actually hate a few. However, occasionally the thought creeps into my muddled brain that I must not hate people. Accept them, for what they are and move on. Then again, hating them for what they are is so much more fun

no.8 or It Grows Mother. It Grows. 7/22/2003

If i sit with my friends and drink coffee but do not bother listening to half of what they say, and disagree with the half that I hear, why do I bother sitting down with them? A great mystery of my life but one that must be solved another day.

Today is a day for celebration. After years of intense struggle and hardship, today I saw my first plant. It has taken life and I could not believe my own eyes when I first spotted it. Growing amongst the weed and yet retaining an identity of its own. The leaves are of wonderful shape and the symmetry is unbelievable. To think that if I had not been locked out of my house, I would never have seen my plant. If it were not for my cat I would never have seen my plant. Life does indeed work in mysterious ways.


This week promises plenty. I hope that in time, the week will deliver on the promised plenty.

no.7 or (add cool title here) 7/21/2003

I feel like I am wasting time. Blah! I cannot use obscene language on this diary because other people might be offended. I cannot for instance call a person with homosexual preferences anything but a homosexual. I cannot call a child molestor anything but a "child molestor." I feel that this is not fair but I suppose I can and will live with it.

Last weekend was another 48 hours of wasted time. It was fun while it lasted.


I have confused the living crap out of her. It is quite amusing and am waiting to see where this will lead to.

Life's little thrills have always held great fascination.


The sheep are at it again. The sheep will see me drown or see me eat grass. I refuse to eat grass for now. I may have to eat grass later, but for now I am happy with my meat.


Plans for a temple under my name are afoot. The acolytes are in place and I feel my time is coming. I hope I don't have to wear a white dhoti and shawl like whatshisname does. I also hope I do not have to visit my own temples. My megalomania must be contained for now and visiting my own temples may well lead to a flooding of my megalomania box for want of a better word.

no.6 or jobless with a job 7/15/2003

I like reading what I write. I also like meat, tobacco, coffee, cannabis sativa and repeating myself.

Today has so far been exceptionally dull. A few more days of this and I may shut down. I drink ice cold water in the hope that I devolop a sore throat and not have to come into my daily place of bread earning. There has not been passion in my life for some time now. I believe that I have found something that may well re-ignite passion but the work that needs to done scares me. Will I succumb to my fear and leave another quest mid-way thru? Only time will tell.


I forget to do things that I know I must. I forget to do things that will be beneficial to me. I am not sure why I do these things. Indifference to my own well being might be a reason. I am bored beyond belief. I will come back to this later.

no.5 or ....of insecurity and other matters 7/15/2003

I may have hurt a friend today. I think i have and it pains me to have done so. I hope I did not but anyway, such is the insecurity that plagues my life. I'm not sure if I can call it insecurity but I would like to call it so.

Today was a boring day. I hate going out with aquantainces but sometimes there is no choice. Social obligations occasionally rule my life and I have learnt to deal with it. Making banal small talk sets me on edge and so I keep my mouth shut. This also lends me a mysterious aura or so i like to believe. I believe a lot of things about myself. Some of them may be true but most are false.

no.4 7/14/2003

It is the same day and I am back. This is a drug that seems to help. I will forget all about this soon but till then it will help.

I am more comfortable talking to people from behind a monitor. I am a little less dishonest from behind a monitor. I think it should be the other way round but my analytical diarreah has run its course so I will spare myself the trouble.


I like talking to women. I think they are nicer people. I may be wrong but that is what I think. Lately, i seem to be meeting a lot of people that I would like to get to know better. Most of them happen to be women.


I like the fact that this diary is all about me. I dream of future generations reading this drivel and praising the first cluttered mind of the 21st century. I dream of temples being erected in my name. I dream of acolytes praying to my statue. I dream of ceremonies conducted in my name to the background music of Sutcliffe Jugend. I dream of violence and pain and I do not dream of electric sheep. I never have and probably never will.

no.3 7/14/2003

People come to me when they want something. I exist solely for the benifit of others. I have come to resent this and yet I cannot help feeling that somewhere down the line these people will be of use to me and therefore I must help them today.

I am a mountaineer leaving little caches of food for my journey back. I like to think of myself as a romantic adventourer who will never cease to stop adventuring/ exploring etc. on his quest for wisdom. I also lie to myself all the time. I can see Albert Eintsein making funny faces on my desktop. He was a great man or so I am told. I too am a great man and with time my megalomania will come to be justified and will even become perfectly reasonable. My acolytes will number in the tens and I will have my very own altar.

no.2 or being the pig 7/14/2003

I like reading what I write. I may well be the only person who reads what I write but I like it all the same. Self pity is out of fashion. It died with grunge. I must not wallow in it like a pig.

Can I ever be honest? I think not. I can't help being dishonest. Its in my nature like the Scorpion said to the Frog. My English writing skills have deserted me. My grammar and punctuation have gone out of the window and here I am wallowing in self pity. I am a pig. That is a fact that I must accept. But accepting that I am a pig means that I have descended into the bowels of self pity again, does it not? I have no real reason to wallow in self pity. Infact, aprt from a minor irritation which will soon take care of itself, life has been good. I have no reasonable claims to unfair treatment. I have no grouse against the God my parents choose to believe in. I have no reason to wallow. I have no reason to be a pig. Yet, I cannot help but feel dissatisfied with my lot in life. I am unhappy and I want more dammit! I have yet to find out what I want more of but I know that what I have now is not enough. My knowing that much is enough for now.


Yesterday, I talked to her and I felt happy that she called me. In my current state of analytical diarreah I wonder if I was happy simply because she called, or because she called when my friends were around. I remember feeling vaguely disappointed that my friends did not inquire as to the nature of the call, so.....


Is she somebody I can be with or simply somebody who makes me cooler to be with? That is a question I do not care to answer at this point. I like being with her and talking to her so that must count for something. Her innocence is disarming. Her all round general niceness even more so. I like her and that will do nicely for the moment.


I want to write about my family, friends and relatives. Yet I feel that they may not like what I write about them. Then I'm remembered of the cold embrace of anonymity and am comforted. But I conclude that the time is not yet right for that. Not now. Probably not ever.


There will come a time in my life when I will be alone. Absolutely alone. I await that day in eager anticipation. I would like to experiment with insanity. I would like to know what sound a tree makes when it falls down in an uninhabited forest. I have not yet figured out how I am going to achieve this but when I do, I will be the first to know.

no.1 - 7/14/2003

I haven't written a diary in years. I stopped writing the first time because I was scared the diary would be found. Now here I am writing in a public diary on the Internet. Ironic? Indeed!

Not sure why I'm writing this as yet. Probably because I need to write so I can fit in somewhere. Could be because I need to vent. Maybe because right now, I have nothing else to do. The reason, I convince myself, is not important. It is the act of writing which is.


I haven't felt this restless in years. I do things I don't want to do. I put off doing things that I must do and I nver seem to be doing the things that I really want to do. I feel that my life will soon take a huge turn. Not sure yet if it will be positive but the waiting is killing me. I wish whatever is supposed to happen would just happen and get itself over with.


I know why I'm writing this. I needed a place to talk that would give me the cold embrace of anonymity. I will venture forth my opinions here that I dare not venture anywhere else. This may well become another home.