Scared of what comes after. Seriously.

Flurry of activities all of a sudden. Part I drawing to an end (chug-a-chug-a-chug-a-chug-upto-Aug14th). Home free pretty much by the 31st. Umm, there's the kaaj, the play, the last minute family bonding, post-op preps (*sigh*, not liposuction - but wouldn't that be nice) and the no brainer party to which everyone is invited. Whoever reads this blog, whoever does not, whoever is in the need of de-braining, de-stressing and de-inhibiting oneself, are invited. Only when and where, I have no clue. Madness, intoxication, crazy chicken and noise pollution promised. Carry your own puke bags, medication, booze and significant others. I am only half-kidding.
But really, everything's so bloody tame these days. I need something like that. You know, like when you wake up in the morning and go "oops". Ok, not really. But still, wild, stupid and not too expensive. Gawd, I sound 15 and Paris Hiltonish. But Whattodo. I'm living on sheddo bhat and Shakespeare. I am not going to justify any of this. Superficialty rocks.

:-(

Nothing's right.

Life is paperback fast and also gelatine slow. Mousse head stew. Stuff happened. Stuff keeps happening. Loony keeps libbering. And that's the truth.
Nothing is faint, very little is subtle. It's a loud and cantakerous little piece of truth. With regular cha and mishti intervals. And aloo-bhat-ghee-bhat.
Monsoon is lovely. Melancholy, empathetic... a phenomenal poet... now somewhat faded... like third-rate background music. Tch,tch. So grand, yet common. Like a burial ground and the likes.

Now it's suffocating - all this time and space. Last minute cramming and Coffee nights replaced by another kind of cramming - another kind of mental, physical jamming. What can I say? But Oh vell, vell, vell.

Read. And you must.
Post courtesy Nonedone and Chamki - the Bombay bloggers.

Well. I did it again. I got sheared. Scalped. However, you may put it. Will slip into weirdo with a buzz cut mode yet again. But this time, no cigarettes, no bullshitting. Just the vague bitch thing. Gosh, Goshel, I'm done with making sense. Have every intention to dramatize my drama paper with all sorts of Freudian slips and anything and everything to do with sex. Gawd, they were all whores anyway - from Macbeth to Lady Teazle. But I love them. I love whores, I love bitches, I love every fucktard in the fucktarted world. I fucking do. Cause, I'm sheared, scalped, whatevered and made to look like a rebel without a cause (which I swear I'm not - I'm a content capitalist pig, yessir).
I think they might just have snipped a bit o' my brain, while they were at it. Retards.
I love frosted cornflakes.

Blog seems irrelavant in the wake of a lot of things. I'll write when the world gets a little saner. And I won't feel so bad about being superficial.

Dum dum dum.... and so it begins.

Atrotious beginning to the day. Martin Luther King died this morning, and I went to college, feeling all blue and miserable. But it was good to go back to coll after all these days. Even if it was to just pick up an admit card and return a library book. Made it a point to eat at Delights and pick up (the lightest and mildest) fag from Classic Stores. Gone are the Goldflake days. But, how funny...some stupid guys, thinking us to be juniors...that too juniors fagging, swarmed around us, with the pretext of "ragging". I mean... that was just absurd! Third year (hopefully) ko rag karta hai? Retards! That was "subtley" dealt with, and was wondering around, killing time, waiting for some photocopies. Then, this mild and normal, if not slightly dismal day, got a little better. A lot better really. I went on a bike ride!! Enfield et al :)
I am so thrilled with my mini roller coaster ride! I was like the klutziest pillion rider ever, but that's okay, I didn't expect any better from myself. Oh sweet recklessness. It is a' gooood.

Tried to have a flashback photo thingie for my 200th post. Yay. I officially don't have a life, blog as proof. The internet has been driving me crazy with its whimsy behaviour, and so has History of English Literature. And what else. Life is dullsville so there's really...nothing.
I love monsoon. I hope it's pouring on the 6th.

The two monkeys