If I grin anymore my cheeks will burst and all my teeth will fall out. And its weird, considering today was a pretty disappointing day... but I think it was compensated for. :D
I have two new books. Of Mice and Men and a collection of 4 plays by Camus - Caligula, The Misunderstanding, State of Siege, The Just Assassins. There were two books I was dying to buy, but didn't eventually (taka shesh) - The Town and the City and The Outsider. Tomorrow again maybe.
There's a lot of work - but I just feel so tremendously lazy about it. Maaan. I just want to lie around like a hippo and wallow in mud and music. I've had a terrible week, with terrible epiphanies and life sucked a great deal up until this afternoon. Tomorrow is going to be my last day of college. And I am, kinda sorta miffed about it. But then, there's this entire promise of newness that lies ahead of me and all that jazz, and considering I am quite tolerant of change, it should make me feel good. But to use that oftabused cliche - it is bittersweet man, bittersweet. Anyway, this is all very obvious kothabartha.
Oh today, S and I got laughed at for some vague reason by smarmy Bong gang at college. Their insignificance on the almost last day of college, seemed profound. Every para has 'em, every school and college have 'em. Gossiping and giggling, casting sly glances at each other all the time, giving you sweet inncocent smiles, usually accompanied by bhoda cheles with ugly pretentious kurtas - you know the one which has poetry written on it and the picture of a gram. Good bongs. Bidi khaye na, victoria-te prem kore. Goodbye.

This cannot be good.

I've totally fallen in love with the American Big Band era. That, my friends, is the real deal. Also, rock and roll. My latest finds are Ella Fitzgerald and Bobby Darin. Oh my god, Darin's got a voice like butter. If someone were to serenade me with If I were a carpenter, I'd immediately run away and get married with him (but no-one would - no-one does these things anymore). I think I like him better than Sinatra. And he also kinda sorta had a tragic life and I'm a sucker for jazz like that.
And Ella ella ellah. I find myself bathroom singing I looove Pariiiis, a lot these days.
I don't like today. I like yesterday. People don't sing love songs anymore. They just...I dunno, get emo, and whine....a lot.
:(

Hmm, now since I blog a lo-hot, I was thinking, would it be a good idea to get paid for it? Not that I write anything of any significance, and very often I write a lot of crap in incomprehensible language...but, I do need money :-S
But nah, it would become a job then. I like my unemployed status for some really vague reason. I just wish I was paid to be lazy or gluttonous or something - then I wouldn't be.
I just got off the phone with P, who's plenty worried about the future, career, money et al. So's S I'm sure. I don't know why though. They are exceptionally smart people, with the right kind of academic scores. S is organised to the point of neurosis. Both, are good-looking, articulate, and gifted with dollops and dollops of attitude...Yes...life is going to be sooo difficult for them. Heh. They will kill me for this though. But I should remind you, 'convicted for murder', isn't really a pretty 'P.S.' on your CVs. Na-huh.
Anyway, those two beatches can fend for themselves. Oh so can I, so can I. I have lesser morals and lesser pride, which can sometimes work out right for you. I will marry my Arab Sheikh, who was christened Ibrahim two years ago in my journal (wait, Arabs don't get christened right? jai hok). He has four other wives, in four different locations in the world. I'm the youngest (therefore the most pampered), I live in Paris, I have my own private jet, and oodles of everything else and I'm allowed to do almost anything I please. I just can't eat pork, which, is fine, since I'm considering turning Vegan anyway. So, I'll probably have to do some minor thing like save his life from, I dunno, Americans or something, which I will, and that, my babehs, is my ticket to a secure future.
And fuck feminists and communists or generally jealous types. Whatever makes me happy :)
>> Ibrahim Sheikh :D

What a cool loo

I know there's some famous Loo blog, but I'm not sure which, and to be honest, I'm too lazy to find out right now. But this - is amazing. I love the little Buddha right on top of the pot. I just wish the open bin thing wasn't there.

In my soul's garden there are yellow flowers
And freshly cut hair.
Necklaces made out of teeth, typewriter ribbons
And caterpillar holed leaves.
Come play.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Oh this was all Tiny's idea! And I'm a whore for these things :)

Yes I know. Let's love a lot this year. :)

Parzania

I don't remember the last time I came so close to sobbing in the theatre. And it's not like in the middle of the film you're like, heck it's just a film, it's not real...because it is real, every bit of it. Much like Gopal Menon's documentary (Hey Ram : Genocide in the land of Gandhi), this film brings you face to face with a heinous episode not so far back, which we all seem to have forgotten with amazing alacrity. It's not till you see films like these that you realise the enormity of the Gujarat Riots. How dare our country talk about racism and "global issues" like that when we happily shelter fascist pigs like Narendra Modi and some other unmentionable miscreants who carry out carefully planned communal riots and masaacre thousands and get away with it? How dare we call ourself secular, united or tolerant, when there is so much of hatred against each other and each other's beliefs?

Political concerns aside, this film is truly moving, on a human and emotional level. You realise that, there are many like Cyrus, looking for a lost son, daughter, husband or wife, either killed or lost or burnt to ashes, never to be found. The film shows how your normal, everyday life can be left shattered and shaken in an instant...how a parent will do anything to save his or her child...how sometimes struggle is futile, sometimes inspiring. Aside from that irritating American, the performances (Naseer and Sarika especially) will leave you spellbound. I have my reservations about the film being in English though, but perhaps it wouldn't have been able to reach out to the larger audiences if it had been in the local language. But some local bootlegger saying Fuck and it's derivatives over and over again jarrs as does that entire Voice Over thing by the American (and his entire story as a matter of fact). Infact some of the dialogues are so trite, you feel like cringing and it blotches this otherwise moving film. But I'm not here to review. Just want you to know that, this is a film that needs to be watched. And carry the Kleenex. You'll need it.

Do read up Rajdeep Sardesai's article.

I spent all evening doing craft work, which is why I'm relatively happy. I was so engrossed that I forgot to watch Koffee with Karan. Yes, yes, I watch all that. Relish infact.

Heehee, above is the Art Attack inspired thingie. I lurve art attack. I have the hugest crush on Neil Buchanan.

A called yesterday and said he was going for the Roger Waters shingding. Dammit. Everyone's going! Oh well. My sole ambition in life now is to go to a Take That concert and watch them bare their bums. I l-l-lurve those guys. Hysterically. Rock-wok onek hoyeche. It's pop city all over again babeh. Bring back the gay gay 90s.

Yes...grapes are sour. Please don't take the 90s thing seriously.

What's in my bag?

This was something I enjoyed doing tremendously. I got the idea from here - What's in your bag. It also gave me the chance to clean out my bag after ages. :D

List of items -1. clipboard and question paper - last exam yay yay

2. E.V.S. book which is Paroj's and practically untouched

3. A Streetcar Named Desire - which is Joie's - and will you check out Marlon Brando on the cover, or not? I demand you do it now!

4. My elephant doodle book and conte pencil. The book isn't particularly filled now that it has been called "doodle book" and expects doodles. I don't think I function that way.

5. Wallet and loose change

6. Pens - like a factory of them. I had na-hoo idea.

7. Notebook

8. Watch

9. Ticket stubs - one metro and mostly bus. One bus ticket encloses a previously chewed piece of gum. Why am I not surprised?

10. Water bottle

11. Housekeys

Rather boring I know... exam day, but. Okay, okay, now other people should do it too. Please do it other people. Izz fun.

Dammnit. Joto bar hatchet bury korte cheshta kori, kichu na kichu legei thake. Jyottoshob.

I wrote such messy crap for the paper today, I felt embarrassed even while writing it. *cringe*** I hope no-one significant corrects.

I am quite amazed at Star News. It's like the biggest sensationalist news network on the planet. Ki crapfest. I don't like it one bit.
Although... I have to say, I'm very happy about T2. It's the best idea The Telegraph has had in ages. It has replaced Caltimes in the loo.

Among other things, I'm getting severe moral pangs about smoking up at home. Not to mention anxiety attacks. I mean, I become totally Lady Macbethish about the smell, drowning my loo with cheap perfume and whatnot. Sheesh. It's supposed to relax me no? Eventually it does. But you know, so much covering up. I'm essentially a prude you see. I just have a weakness for addictive things.

Right now I'm reliving 1997, but only the good bits. Thassagood.

just got soooper wet in the rain. Shit, what fun. I missed this.

Haha.

Spliff. Isn't it a beautiful word? I am so happy today :)

oh and haha is a link incase you don't get it.

Bombay-Puna plans are indefinitely on. Sheeet. Ki moja.

Uff, ei Billy Joe Armstrong-ta ki pocket size hot. I wanna do him with a vengeance.

Look, I love the Irish. Most of my friends will know why particularly so. Wonderful bunch, the Irish, with all their pubs and poets and love for public brawls. I could live there for a while if I wanted to. They are in all probabilty, nicer than the English - incomprehensibler (?) but nicer I'm sure. I just am. But...what is it with this Synge dude? Why can't someone buy him some ale or something? Take him out for a rendezvouz with the Leprachauns or summit. He needs HAPPINESS in his life. God, the man needs HAPPINESS. Damn, I wish I could turn back time and make him HAPPY. And keep him away from the sea. Just...away. I'd take him to mid-Russia or something.

Loony takes a little step...

Ohkaay. There's something I want to share with my bloggies, but I don't know how to do it without sounding mysterious or being indiscreet. And I don't want to spell it all out, because it might get jinxed. Ok, I'll just settle for being mysterious. You can always ignore this post if it's too cryptic.
Today I finally took a step towards independent life. Right now, everything's still quite up in the air, but, at least something that was 'all talk', amounted to something. I'm semi-excited and semi-scared. I can just hope hope hope. And if nothing happens, heck, I tried.
It is a big deal for me, because my confidence is absolutely zilch. I don't believe in myself at all. And I need to be reminded constantly of any teensy, wee bit of potential that is hidden in me. So I just spun this eight ball thingie we have at home and it said - "Go for it" - and I went for it. Heh, it reminds me of CB....the "juxtaposition" of the trivial and the serious.....
Do I deserve it? How does it matter... This is something that I'm going to do. This is something that is dependent on no-one. And I'm willing to give myself a chance.
Won't you pray for me? Just a little bit?

There were so many things I wanted to say today, they all went to waste. I'm hopeless at writing 4 hour papers. I feel stuffed. I had this stuffed capsicum for lunch today, and it's just fucking irritating me now. That and strange sleep patterns.
Life's gone absofuckinglutely awry.
Oh shit. I wrote an entire paragraph and erased it accidentally. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Compliments infact, above observation.
Ok. TV time. This one might have to be butchered.