Screaming and crying at the gates of heaven has never really helped much. The events of this year have pushed me into this filthy, moss covered refugee camp I like to call Non-Sprout.
I've thought it over a thousand times, and then a thousand more. If there's anything like a 'stillborn sprout of hope' its me. Let's do a neat brief recap of all the shitty shit-heads I've been through in life. I won't comment on my family. That's for God and me to to discuss. He doesn't like me dragging matters out into the open. "Honor your father and your mother, even if they're hanging you like a Christmas decoration by a noose, off a cliff", or the commandments go something like that.
Let's talk about my first love.
If love is supposed to make you deaf, dumb and blind, I was in ultra-love. Bullshit. Mom liked the boy, so I was brainwashed into liking him. Parents really screw your life up. This guy, together with his 'muh boli' sister (who wanted to get banged by him so bad) and her boyfriend, and the boyfriend's brother (who wanted to bang her so bad) messed up my life more than my parents did. Yeah, its friggin funny when you think it can't get worse, and it does, and it stares you in your face, poinks you in the nose a few times and says "See -> WORSE" !
Then came skimpy clothes princess.
Once you've been through relationship turbulance for a year and your entire college looks down upon you like you're the city slut, you're willing to give your life away to the first half-wit who shows the slightest signs of believing your 'misery ki daastaan'. Likewise.
By the time I understood that she was walking, stomping and wiping the crap stuck to the heels of her shoes, on me, it was too late. I had one dumb meserized friend, wagging his tail like a love sick rabid chihuahua behind her and everyone else kissing the ground she walked on. All thanks to me, of course!
Meanwhile 'boyfriend the second' was on the scene.
Once bitten, twice shy. No, I never learn. Second guy was a charm. I would have run away with him overnight. One problem - he friggin hated talking to me. That got on my nerves. Then there were other things that bothered me that are too personal to mention here. I may not have any life at all, but I still pretend to have privacy issues. You should also pretend that they're convincing issues.
'Boyfriend the third' is why someone coined the term "disaster management".
Disater management has a simple explanation. When you live in India, disasters exist; management is a myth. Much like the floods that swept Mumbai into a frenzy, he came and turned my life upside-down-downside-up and all the other possible directions you can imagine; all this effort just to get laid. Hah! (Get) Screw(ed by) you(?)! You wish!
Now, I stand at the point of nothingness where all I see is a stillborn sprout of hope. Hence the update. To make myself feel better, I shall go ruin a bot's day and improve my aim, so that I can pray that I can put it to some practical use and kill all these friggin excuses of existence, all but 'boyfriend the second'. He's getting married so I don't need to kill him.
Cause when I'm with you,
I'm blacker than blue,
I'm bluer than sad,
I'm angrier than mad,
Blisterin in the rain,
Aching more than pain,
But does it matter to you?
Does it?
On this bright green, summer day.
Its that time of the year again. Bells. Lights. Trees. Gifts. Santa. His red nosed employee. Marzipan. Fudge. Diabetes. Worm medicine. Tooth ache.
No typical Alice rant today. Its that time of the year, that compels the evil skimpy clothes princess to wear clothes. That means that I'm not mad at her. Yet I had to mention her, or my blog post would have an odd vacuum within it that would suck out all the enthusiasm of reading it. Wait, what enthusiasm?
Yes, its Christmas. Its the regular cold Christmas I have to suffer year after year. Warm wishes from cold people. Cold wishes from cold people. Bitchy looks from semi frozen blondes-with-black-hair. This much, is digestible. It changed two years ago. Christmas brought love. Last year, it took love away. This year, he might most probably be married by Christmas. The problem is, that this Christmas will be a blank Christmas. Not happy, not sad, just blank.
Why you ask? Why blank when there are so many people around, who love you? Simple - I don't love them back. Its easy for happy people to love. Its somewhat harder for sad people to love. Its close to impossible for blank people to love. We're talking major blankness here. We're talking about 'cat stuck in fish bowl' blank, '5 seconds after a wall along a Mumbai road is painted' blank, 'Paris Hilton in a kindergarten classroom' blank.
Joy can be spread. Sorrow shared. What do you do with a blank Christmas?
I look at people rush through shops hunting down the last good cardboard boxes to pack sweets in, fighting over dresses and shoes, putting up decorations. Ironically, "Blue Christmas" is playing in the background.
Golden rays,
dazzled his teary eyes..
There was light,
There was light,
That filled every aching corner,
of the soft blue skies..
Enchanting sounds,
drifting through the air..
There was music,
There was music,
Blinding his senses,
Playing from the depths of nowhere..
Delicious somethings,
the banquet lay before him..
There was a feast,
There was a feast,
Food for every mood,
Drink for every whim..
Graceful creatures,
standing strong and tall..
There were women,
There were women,
In mystifying colors,
Of winter, spring and fall..
A cold wind blew,
deafened by chorusing screams..
Hurricane,
Hurricane,
He sat up in bed,
Praying for softer dreams..
Velvety green carpet,
Below my feet.
A sharp parapet,
Overlooking a busy street.
Climb up, they want me to
Climb up,
It’s a razor, cutting through my soul,
And my soles are bleeding,
Along the sides,
Running down to the tenth floor,
Ninth,
Eighth,
Sixth,
First,
Why is my heart beating?
While my soul is bleeding, to death.
Warm gusts of air,
Tangle locks of hair,
Splashing across my face,
With the burning rain,
From a black hole in space..
Walk along, they want me to
Walk along,
The same road, that wasted their spirit,
And my spirit is screaming,
Alone inside,
Screaming to priests,
Friends,
Lovers,
Angels,
Gods,
Vultures,
But nobody hears it,
Because it is wilting away, whimpering.
Hydrogen,
In my lungs,
Makes me feel,
Light as air,
And when the gas dies down,
I fall from the heavens,
Into a place,
Called nowhere.
Disoriented while sober,
High is a calming disease,
Or so they say,
In whispers,
Afraid of those, who wait,
Listen,
Complain,
Hate,
Detest,
Stalk,
To detain,
An innocent razor cut soul,
Trying to fill,
A black hole.
Do you miss the people and the places that made you smile? Everything always finds a way of reminding you of all the good things you had, that you let go of, or that let go of you. The worst thing about good times is that, when you are there, at that time, you do not realize that this will be a memorable moment in your life. You do not stop and think, "I'm gonna look back and miss these days, these people" because you only think it gets better from then on.
Miss 'no good skinny waist' finally made her return into my life; my much needed blog inspiration. She made it a point to tell all the people present, that they had lost weight, except me though. I suppose that was a casual mistake, she definitely didn't mean to miss complimenting me on purpose. As usual, the guys in the group began to suck up to her and tell her how fabulous she looked. Trust me, when you wear 'designer' clothes, designed by 'you', remember to wear the belt that was meant to go with it, because empty loops on either side of your kurta look lame. They look so lame, that it can be used as a comparison in the future, for instance one may say -- "OMG! She looked so lame with that hair-do, but not as lame as that girl, who wore her kurta without the belt, with those open loops on either side."
Image of the evil one:
That aside, I realized that my time in the group was up. Everything in life has an expiry date. The shelf life of the good things that have come my way, make perishable goods seem everlasting. I cannot ignore the fact, that her entry into my life has kicked me back to my books. I just miss the good days.
Note : Body hugging clothes and sluttyness have the never exhausting capacity of turning desperate boys into vacuum cleaners (read: suck ups).
Circumstances drove me away from my adorable darling, and now they drive me back to her. If I ever had a faithful fan following, I apologize for this lengthy period of neglect. If I didn't, THEN EVERYBODY ON THE PLANET SUCKS!
I guarantee much more regular updates, keeping my mental frustration in mind (literally).
Over the year, I've successfully earned myself a horrible reputation among those who actually respected me. Was it my fault? No, surprisingly, it wasn't. Come to think of it, it might be my fault partly.
This is a case of 'indirect judgmental reputation'. The subject in question, is seen with those members of society, who spend a good part of their lives drinking, smoking and mentioning the abbreviation of 'fornicating under (the) consent (of the) King', at every available opportunity, which usually varies from once in every 5 words, to once in every 3.
Its a pity. The elders need to work on the variety section, when it comes to showing their disapproval, which is currently restricted to 'frown' and 'grunt'. How boring! By the time I reach that stage of utmost boredom, they had better come up with something innovative, or I shall flatly refuse to age.
All that set aside, my personality (miraculously have one) refuses to fit in, anywhere. I feel like the inhabitants of Moron Mountain, in Space Jam. The only difference is that they were four morons, and I'm a four-in-one moron. If given a choice, I wouldn't mind staying at a place named Moron Mountain. My kinda people, my kinda place. I might ever win the elections. The problem is, that I am far, far away from Moron Mountain, and I don't even know where it is, and I'm too proud to ask for directions.
Hence, the mental frustration mentioned in the first paragraph.
On the bright side, I now have a display picture. Glory Glory, Hallelujah!
I was thinking of adding a few flowers and butterflies for company, but the hand refused to share the limelight.
