Like It Matters

For the nineteenth time of the day, he looked up at the cloudless sky.

It's been the same from the morning -- grey and dull. 7'o clock looked like 7'o clock. 10'o clock looked like 7'o clock. So did 11 and 12 noon. 2'o clock in the afternoon still looked like 7'o clock. And things weren't different at 5 or 6 in the evening either. In short, time came to a halt at the dreariest of hours.

He went back to sleep. That must be an overstatement. He tried to go back to sleep. Actually, he hadn't slept a second in the last four days and three nights. Not that it was uncommon for him. Such bouts of sleeplessness regularly haunted him.

But this time was different. His loneliness compounded the stress. His roommate was no longer there. Not that it really helped him in getting sleep, but somehow the presence was rather comforting. Can't blame him either. Why wouldn't someone want to go for a week long trip to Manali with their girlfriend?

His roommate had invited him, but he turned it down. Why? He liked self-flagellation -- of an emotional kind. He believed that such torture helps him recover from much greater heartbreaks. And he had a lot of those. And he didn't want to suffer those anymore. And he wasn't gonna stop risking another relation so he could escape from such torture either. The best of two things often gets you in a ditch. But he was willing to climb.

He pulled the curtains tight. The damned light still managed to somehow wriggle its way through sides unreachable for the curtain. He wished he had one of those thick iron shutters to pull down.

He flopped down onto the bed. He felt that the coil inside the mattress sprang up to pierce his back. The feeling was so real, he got up from the bed. He ran his palm over the mattress for the fifth time that day. No. It was all his imagination. He tried to convince himself.

He flopped down onto the bed -- again. Masturbation is supposed to help you get sleep. Will it work now? It didn't work the last five times. He was willing to try again. He pulled the laptop close to him and switched it on. Its bright screen melted his pupils. Argh. He squinted. He typed the url into the browser and waited for the page to load. His loins ached as the pictures on the screen started working his hormones.

Half an hour later, he was still awake.

Now what? TV? Music? Books?

He picked up the magazine lying next to him. He'd already read it thrice. Another time should not hurt. Especially if he could get some sleep. He picked up the magazine and realised why he hated it the last two times. Its frame always collapsed. What was it made of? Banana skins? He folded the magazine by four and started reading the editorial. It sure was boring, but not really soporific.

He picked himself up from the bed mouthing inanities. His living room was clean, but not exactly comfortable. For start, his furniture was cane. Still, he managed to crumble his 6ft frame into the 4ft wide sofa. He switched the TV on. Click. Not interesting. Click. Not interesting. Click. Not interesting. Click. Not interesting. Not feeling sleepy, either. His eyes grew tired, but not in a way that put him to sleep.

He went back to the bed. Now what? He picked up his laptop again. If he wasn't getting any sleep, might as well do something useful -- he thought. He opened his blog and started writing a new post. What should the title be? Like it matters. That's not a bad title. 'Like It Matters' -- he typed. And then he started writing about his evening, the cloudless sky and everything.

Wow, that worked! He thought as he woke up the next day. He took another look at the post he wrote and published it.

Showing the way

(Phone ringing)

Will (receives the call):

Good morning. Distress call services. How are you distressed?

Jack (over the phone):

I'm stuck!

Will:

Well I see. What exactly are you stuck to, Mister....

Jack:

I'm not stuck to anything. I am stuck. As in lost.

Will:

(sigh) My condolences. But I have to follow the protocol. Your name please.

Jack:

Jack. Jack Ferries.

Will:

I didn't get that. You are on a ferry or are you ferrying people?

Jack:

No! Ferry's my name!

Will:

So, Jack Ferry. Have you called us before?

Jack:

Yes. Now can I know the direction to...

Will (interrupts):
Our database doesn't show any records of such a call Mr.Jack. Are you sure you called from exactly this number?

Jack:

I don't know. Maybe I used my friend's number.

Will:

You remember the friend's name?

Jack:

I think it's Melissa.

Will:

And what's her number?

Jack:

I don't remember.

Will:

Can you check that for me, please?

Jack:

You are crazy! I am stuck here in a downpour. I am lost. And I am looking for directions. And you are asking me for my friend's number?

Will:

Like I said. Protocols.

Jack:

Ok... hold on... it is...... 9.7.5.4.6.3.1.2.2.6

Narrator (comes out of nowhere):

Before some of you desperate ones head off to call this number, know that all this is a figment of the writer's imagination. There will not be any Melissa on the other end unless you are really, really lucky.

(pause) Now wait... (dials the number)

(after a while) We can confirm now that, no matter how lucky you are, you cannot dial the number and get Melissa on the other end.

Jack:

What was that?

Will:

Space filler. So... where exactly are you stuck, Mr. Ferry?

Jack:

I'm stuck at St.James' Park.

Will:

Aha... and where do you wanna go?

Jack:

Romilly Street.

Will:

Can you hold on for a second while we check it on our system?

Title:

"As they held on for a second"

Narrator (out of nowhere):

Now. The black bunny really did not exist. It was but a formulation of the idiosyncrasies of the 18th century feudal system. Where they called the feudal landlords 'black bunnies'. Bunnies, because they ate into the produce of hardworking farmers. And black, because they were evil. Religious symbolism always associated black with evil. Except in Hindu mythology, where Lord Shiva and Krishna are dark blue, or almost, black in colour, even while being a 'holy' concept.

Will:

Mr. Ferry? Are you still there?

Jack (sneezing):

Oh yeah I am. But I'm not mighty happy about it.

Will:

Well... we do have the map open now at St. James' Park. Now.... where did you say you have to go again?

Jack:

Romilly Street.

Will:

Ok.... Romi...ll...eeee street.... yep found it! Are you looking straight at a big pin? almost at the center of the road. It's named 'The Mall'.

Jack:
A big pin on the middle of the road??????

Will:

Yes. That's what the map shows. It's a big pin, with an oval head. Red in colour. Dull red rather. With a pristine white centre.

Jack:

I don't see no pin. But I do see a mall ahead.

Will:
Well, what do I say. You can test your luck, I guess.

Jack:

Ok. I am near the mall. Now what?

Will:

If you look eastwards you must see a yellow road.

Jack:
Road sign you mean.

Will:

No. A yellow road. It must be completely yellow. Nothing else.

Jack:

No black tar?

Will:

No black tar.

Jack:

No white stripes on the middle?

Will:
No white stripes. It's a yellow road.

Jack:
You gotta be kidding me. Look mister. This is not funny. I am near the mall. There's a shop here named 'Lille's'.

Will:

A little shop?

Jack:

No. Lille. As in L-I-double L-E.

Will:

Wait. Let me just zoom in here. I am afraid we do not have information from this height. Would you like a complimentary cookie from Cookie Monster?

Jack:

So you mean all this trouble was for nothing?

Will:

Well, if that's what you think about our exciting offer, then I have to agree, Mr. Ferry.

Jack:

What a waste of time and effort....

Will (scoffing):

Hmm.. tell that to the jackass who's writing all this.

Narrator, Will and Jack (together):

YOU JACKASS! GO ASK YOUR BOSS FOR MORE WORK!!!

A Small Blue Place

"It's blue. And quite small. Does the database have anything on it?" wondered Danube more to himself than Freeng.

Freeng's sixth tentacle (what they called habiosporad) was fiddling away inside a transparent green orb made of wax. From the center of the orb sprang up words and numbers of bright purple and attached itself on the surface. It formed words and sentences, probably entire essays -- but in an alien script.

"Earth," said Freeng, his smoky grey eyes gleaming with a green hue. "Inhabited. Formation: 4.5 billion years ago."

"What's a billion?" asked Danube curiously, his face still stuck to the window of their vessel.

"Well. I don't know really. The place is not on our database. I got this signal from something called w.i.k.i.p.e.d.i.a. Seems to have a lot of information about this Earth place."

"Is it the same guys who sent the first message?"

"No. That was. H.e.i.n.e.k.e.n. They seem to make some kind of elixir. It's golden. Look."

Danube shouldered closer to Freeng, his eyes fixed on the surface of the orb. On it was the picture of a glass of golden brew, patterned with silver bubbles on the sides.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" Danube quipped. "Maybe we should sample this to Cranel. I am sure Glofilia will..."

He was interrupted by a buzz, as the lights inside the vessel started blinking.

"Demascus save us! The autopilot's switched off! There seems to be a clutter in front. And we are fast approaching," exclaimed Freeng.

"Put the support factor on. I am taking controls."

Danube was quick into action.

"Brine my big runt! What in Cranel are these?"

They were looking at a space debris. Thousands of satellites dumped into the gravity-less space. Just floating around, unclaimed and unwanted.

Freeng and Danube's head craned to the left as the vessel steered cleared of an approaching metal.

"Don't they know the rules? They should have sent signs. And instead they send elixirs. What a stupid, selfish bunch!"

Danube was losing it and quickly. His ear was turning blue. It didn't look good against his light brown skin. In Cranel it is not supposed to be a good sign. It is almost offensive. Craneloos wear a shield over their ears when they work in hazardous situations. In such places it was common for the life rate of the Craneloo to reach such high levels that their ears turned blue.

The only reason Danube wasn't wearing the shield was well, there were only two of them. And they were comfortable, physically; being in the vessel for years together.

"I'm sorry about that." Danube explained to Freeng. His ear was now back to the usual light brown.

"That was crazy wasn't it," said Freeng as he settled back into his co-pilot's chair.

"I was beginning to think this was a kinda good looking place. I must think otherwise now."

"Let's not get into such early conclusions. Remember Yuteria? Looked horrendous first didn't it?"

"At least they had proper alarm signs on," mumbled Danube.

"Yeah. Even then. It looked rotten from the outside. But the people were quite nice. You were getting quite friendly with one hocky looking Yuterian."

"Velina," sighed Danube and his eyes gazed out dreamily. Greeting it was a sight of the blue planet. "This Earth place. It looks rather cold. Why don't we go back to Yuteria?"

"You know Haman's orders. We cannot track back. The goal set to us was gan planets. And we are still at ryut."

Danube looked dejected. Add to it the memories of Velina and he felt miserable inside. Freeng saw his mate's worry.

"Maybe there's a sweet human being waiting for you here."

"Hunag what?"

"Hyu-mahn be-ing."

"Hu-mang buh-ing? Is that what they call the creatures here? I am telling you, this sounds like a terrible place."

"We'll see in a while, won't we?"

"Are you telling me we are touching down here?" asked Danube, now looking perplexed at the audacity of the option.

"Haman's orders Dan," replied Freeng.

"Haman haman. What has he ever..."

"Careful Dan. This might be recorded."

Danube fell silent. Danube was from the Crothilian sect of Cranel. Haman's party failed badly in the elections in Crothilia. There was a huge tussle as Haman's aides wanted to take revenge at Crothilians. It was rumoured that about a hundred Crothilians lost their lives. After this incident, Haman took over the military of Cranel and revolted against the then prime Carnelian, Marnagia, overthrowing her finally.

Danube's thoughts were interrupted by a slight whir from the tail of the vessel.

"I am setting the coordinates," informed Freeng as he fed in the new destination. Danube could feel the vessel swerving to the left.

"Ok. Put self-fly off. I will take the controls." Danube's voice failed in showing any enthusiasm.

The small, blue planet was becoming bigger and bigger. Tufts of green sprang up from the otherwise radiant blue. Patches of browns formed, as if the blue and the green of the surface was getting corroded at places.

"Nugit bedits to air scratches," commanded Freeng.

"Gan, mut, benda, nugen, ryut, kadli, wing, beng, ugo."

"Surface wetting released," informed Danube, hitting a small patch of silver in the controls in front of him.

"Arrival steps have started," said Freeng and he took his tentacles off the controls.

Freeng and Danube slumped back, their eyes screwed at the sight unfolding in front of them.

The greens and browns started getting sparer. The blue hung in front of them like a curtain. It moved gently to the tunes of an unknown conductor.

"I see another surface change," said Freeng as he leaned forward to look at the orb.

"Will our wetting hold in the new surface?" asked Danube.

"Hmm... I think it should. Brace tight. We are almost there."

And with that the vessel plunged into the water making barely any splash. Even the ripples didn't last more than seconds against the waves of the ocean.

Inside the vessel, Freeng and Danube sat dumbstricken against the vision unfolding in front of their eyes. There were bright splashes of yellows and reds, framed against a magnificent dark blue background. Danube craned his eyes upward to see a majestic green light hovering above. His ear turned pink.

"I see that you've already started liking it," remarked Freeng. "And you still haven't found your Velina yet."

"Freeng. We are approaching surface," noticed Danube, taking his eyes off the splendid sights and concentrating on the panel in front.

"We are set for vessel exit, Dan."

Even Freeng's ear turned pink as he un-safed himself from the seat. Danube followed his actions. After adjusting the pressure inside the vessel to match that of outside, Freeng released the exit latch.

The door dropped open as some bubbles escaped from the tiny cavities on its sides. Freeng and Danube floated out from vessel. Their tentacles floated around their streamlined body. Their feet joined together to take the shape of a tail fin.

"By Brine! This is just like Cranel!" exclaimed Danube.

"Yeah. It sure feels the same. I think it's a little warmer."

"Where are the hunug begums?"

"Human beings, Dan. And I don't know. I couldn't really see how they looked even. Thanks to that junk they have kept around the planet."

"I see some people coming our way," said Dan pointing ahead.

From the bleak blue of the depths of ocean were floating a number of dark bodies. Their features were still unclear as the haze was rather thick at these depths.

As they came closer, their features became apparent. They had a pale silver skin. Smooth, with no hairy growth. They didn't have any limbs, except for their fins. Their nose was pointed and their eyes formed a small black dot. Three slits on each side, marked where they breathed in and out.

"Hello." greeted Danube. "How are you folks? Hunag begi..."

"Human beings?" corrected Freeng.

A particularly slender one from the group came closer to Freeng and Danube. It screeched. The creature had pearly white teeth that slanted to form really sharp incisors and a pale red gums.

"Scimilion your name? I am Danube. You can call me Dan. I must say you have a beautiful smile."

Freeng flicked around towards Danube.

"Looks like you've already found your Velina," said Freeng coyly.

Dumb Thing

I watch porn for sex education

I do dumb things for fun

I bark at dogs thinkin’ I’ll get a boner

I do dumb things for fun

I say yes when they ask me for my sex

I do dumb things for fun

I’m writin’ this even when I’ve topped in Physics

Coz I do dumb things for fun.

Simple sentence constructions

1)

The blue lake on the side of the grey plankton runs wide from the narrow ledges, straining the edge of the horizon -lit bright with a bolt of golden yellow - by peeling the sky in two and inviting the golden rays of sun light that has travelled light years before reaching our planet that's stuck somewhere in the middle of nowhere, mystifyingly so, even as I watch all this in Discovery channel where my transmission is rather unclear, I think to myself, 'Am I really worth this trouble?'

2)

The crowd erupted in a rupture to cheer the team that's won the finals, but barely so, after a performance so chivalrous that the opposition team (even with their bitter rivalry that spans decades) did a whole row of bowed greetings which marked a gesture rarely seen in sporting circles of which the country really did not have much to be proud of; and the question in the minds of those in the crowd that weren't cheering was, 'Is this football?'

Mob mentalities of internet commentators

Uploading a picture or playing a flash game on the internet is no more a big deal. It has become all about sharing and discussing. Here we look at the trends of comments on various social forums.

Facebook:

This is probably the safest place on the internet to comment. As difficult as it is to believe so, the people in your facebook profile, are your friends. Or just people you know. Ok. Or maybe that babe you found too hot not to poke. The essential goodness of facebook is apparent in the absence of a thumbs-down or unlike button.

YouTube:

A place of constant chaos. Exhaustive researches have shown us that there may not be a single video posted on YouTube that does not have an against-the-majority opinion. Put up anything, and there will be at least one person who makes a negative comment. But, the availability of a thumbs-down button for comments buries such 'derogatory' remarks, six thumbs under.

Flickr:

A great place for upcoming photographers, flickr is the equivalent of a mutual mastur........ mutual ADMIRATION society. Noone completely disses another's work. The negative remarks here goes more like, 'maybe the lighting was a bit harsh' or 'try playing with the exposure settings,' as against what you might find in YouTube -- something like, 'i can feel the heat from that steaming pile of turd all the way here in New Mexico. what a waste of internet space!'

The mutual mastur........ (why am I getting stuck on that word?) The mutual admiration society at work in flickr is also evident from the various communities formed here; notice that there are no 'The Worst Pictures Ever' community in flickr.

Digg:

The conception of digg was probably something like, 'Hey! Look at all these cronies on the net going at each other. You bet they would wanna do the same if we do it for regular pages.'

And digg was born. Here you will find YouTube like comments and comments-within-comments and comments-within-comments-within-comments and comments-within-comments-within-comments-within-comments-..........

(the original poster of this blog died here because of exhaustion. The rest of the post is made by a new guy. And coz he's kinda new to this job, ye' know. take it easy people.)

4chan:

The sub-species of the internet. Humans, but not quite. They talk in a language that is vaguely similar to English. To understand 4chan you have to become one among the sub-species. But these vastly territorial beasts of the internet can sniff a n00b (newbie for the uninitiated) from distant galaxies. A sensible way of getting into 4chan is to observe the space for at least 6 months or moar. Oxford and Cambridge have plans to start a course for 4chan-isation seeing the rising demand for such.

Well, that's all for a quick look at mob mentality and the internet.

Huh? What do you say? Rediff? Ok. Wait. Let me just check.

(Sorry to inform you about the sad demise of our new writer. His IP was last tracked to a rediff message board about Shiney Ahuja rape case. So, we have decided that,)

Rediff:

Possibly fatal. Avoid at all cost.

The Discussion

"He was always great."

"Yeah. He was. But I don't think he was always great. He had his downs. Ye' know what I mean."

The study had eight chairs. Actually it was only three. He didn't like too many visitors -- not in his study room anyway. That was his personal space. He always wanted one. Right from the time he was living with his folks in that dump near the railway tracks. That house had just three rooms. And his brother and sister all had to pack into that tiny room for the kids. But he always dreamt big. So when he finally made it big and had enough cash to splurge on a mansion, he insisted on a big study room.

He lined it with books. Not all of them he read, though. Being a big star in this circuit meant he had to project himself as an academician. But he had read most of them. The interesting ones. Which they were, no one had any idea.

His family pulled up the other five chairs in the study. Occasions like what they were having now called for such. His Granddad (still alive, even with a major nicotine hook) was always a little negative about him. Grans attributed his success to 'excessive luck'. His entire family was there for this meeting. From Grans to his favourite nephew Jack.

Jack was always in awe of him. He is in his early 20s now and aspires to become an actor as big as him. Talent he possesses not, but still he had starry eyes.

His Brother and Sister got settled much before he became famous. So they weren't all well off.

"He always told me that it was I who supported him the most. Remember when he returned from the screening of that movie. Which one was that dear? It didn't go down too well with the them journo kinds," said Sister.

"The Swan Brigade?" her husband helped her out.

"Yeah the swan one. He came straight to me. Said he wanted my support."

"Bah! He called me up from the theatre when that movie was screened. Was in much distress that boy then. Said, 'Grans... I don't know if I will be able to come up from this ditch.' I told him he will. And he did."

"Everyone liked him. But he always appreciated my sense of a story. Remember it was I who suggested he take the role of that cowboy. That was such a blessing for him. He thanked me for that." His Dad wasn't his biggest admirer. But he always believed that the lad inherited his talent. And his talent was mostly limited to the fake smile he gave to convince people into buying crappy cars.

"No matter what, I was his first fan. From the time he did that three scene role for Hunting's movie. I told him to take. That it will be his real break. I knew he was good. I saw all his school plays. And even Mamma hasn't done that."

His Brother's remarks failed to invite a response from his Mom. She sat quietly at the corner -- part of the discussion she was, and part she was not.

"But as the oldest in the family, I think it's rather easy deciding this. I don't have much time left myself." It was kind of weird when he said those last words. If he was least concerned about how much time he had left, he would've quit the stick long back.

"But they don't need old people. I think they need someone young. Someone who still has the same charm that he had," Jack was insistent.

"The same charm you say. How exactly do you have the same charm? You were rubbished even in that role of an extra you did. Stan told me personally that this little bugger is a black sheep of the family." His Sister never really liked Jack -- or Jack's Dad for that matter. Maybe it was sibling rivalry.

"Hey! Watch who you calling the black sheep. I am sure he will do well. He has another major role coming up," an ever-doting father his Brother was.

"Now now. We have all come here to discuss and not to fight," his Dad interfered.

"Yeah. Let's get to that," supported his Sister in fear of another rift.

"As his Dad, I think it should be I who get to go."

"Maybe Aunt Gene should go," came the voice from the far end of the study table. It was his Sister's son. Dennis was the quiet one in the family -- and he never really had an opinion. Even if he had, he never expressed it to others. But this was one time he expressed it.

There was silence all over the table. His Mamma still didn't look up. She had this white napkin clutched in her palm. She occasionally wiped her face with it. It was rather futile. There weren’t any tears. It had all dried up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She still had her white napkin in her hand. She clutched it ever so tightly. It had his initials on it -- 'J.K.' She had stitched that for him. He always used to sweat when he was tense. And was he tense during his first shoot. The napkin was her small gift to him. They say he always had it with him; even when he wasn't tensed. People thought he considered it lucky.

And as she climbed the stairs to the stage there were tears in her eyes. The host of the show handed her the golden statuette. She could barely see through her moist eyes the rows of celebrities all standing up in an equivocal ovation. She held the napkin to her eyes. And he felt the tears on his cheeks.

The Stoner's Ink Pen

It was all over his brand new white shirt. Roe's Dad got him this white shirt for job interviews. And there've been a lot of those. Not white shirts. Job interviews.

These days they all blamed it on recession.

"So do I get a raise?"

"What raise?"

"You know... salary hike."

"What?!?!?! They are paying you a salary????"

The boss rang a bell. That's weird. Because these days no one has that kind of clerical bell. That's such an 80's government office phenomenon. Anyways.

"Accounts? This boy here says he's getting a salary."

Roe just stood there. "Bastard! Didn't even offer me a seat," he thought.

"So waddyamean it's peanuts. There's a goddamn recession on, and I am not entertaining any salary."

He put down the phone. Now, wait. Didn't he ring the 80's government office bell? Anyways.

"Ha! Salary it seems!"

The boss eyed Roe with mock disgust. On second thought, the mockery was either very subtle, or non-existent even. It was pure disgust.

"Some people think they are still working centuries ago with such medieval notions like salary." he kept mumbling.

He looked up again at Roe.

"What are ya lookin' at?!!!? Go on. You are fired!"

"Well, so much for a raise. Now I am in gutters." With that thought, he'd started his journey. For a new job. In a recession-plagued society.

And this happens.

Roe's Dad's intentions were good. You know. Anyone would want their kid to have a new shirt and a new pen for interviews. Especially when they are in the gutters. Shows that someone's there in this world for them. But the mistake was. Ink pen.

Roe hadn't used an ink pen since he was obsessed (and then irrevocably dis-obsessed after a few months) with the Hero pen. Oh yeah! The sleek hero pen with its shiny golden cap and microscopic golden nib. Its ink sucking mechanism was almost space age.

But this one wasn't anything like that. It was black and bulky. Like what you'd see in British actors from the 70's. And it never worked when you wanted it to. Like British actors from the 70's.

So what does one do? Not to the British actors! To the pen.

Shake it like you are trying to bring a dead rabbit from its grave.

And what do you get?

Ink splatters all over your sunshine white shirt.

Roe didn't see any point in going for the interview now. He was more of a pessimist, you see. And the recession is a bad time for pessimist. It's like too good a home for the pessimist. And you wouldn't put up with much struggle in your home, would you? Roe was like that. He wasn't gonna put too much effort during the recession.

So he went back. Not to his home. Not to his parents. Not even to his neighbouring Midnight Booze Bar. He went to Dango's place.

Dango isn't his real name. It's Elango something. One cannot remember much at Dango's, let alone Dango's real full name. That place is just kinda abusive. So Roe went to Dango's.

He opened the door. Dango's doors are never closed. There's not much in there to steal anyways. But I am sure the cops would have a truckload of stuff to take away if they ever got a sniff of Dango's. For starters, he had an aquarium that didn't have any fish. Or water. He grew some plants in that. Plants of a 'banned' variety. So Dango was never really scared of the cops. He was an optimist. A little bit too much of an optimist. And Roe wanted an optimistic trip. That's why he was at Dango's.

"Heyyyy.... dude....," said Dango in his trademark drawl. He always drawled. Even when he wasn't stoned. But Dango was always stoned. So you wouldn't know if he ever talked straight.

"Wassup bro..."

Roe sat down in this flamboyant pink carpet with the picture of Shiva on it. Usually people wouldn't sit on such carpets. But Dango wasn't very religious. Neither was Roe.

"Don't ask man. This recession. It just kills me."

"Ah... aspirations from life. I tell you...," he paused, trying to scan Roe's name from his smoky little brain.

"Roe... the whole existence is pointless. Job is a 20th century invention. All you have to do is breathe. Let your soul loose. Let it wander the world. See the beauty of the Spirit's creations. The mountains, blue lakes, green hills. Hold on."

Dango got up and walked to his laptop. He played some song. Actually, you cannot really call it a 'song'. There was a woman wailing, a wolf howling, sirens screeching, monkeys playing guitars, hamsters snipping off a chimpanzee's hair, and an owl playing the piano; all at the same time. No. You couldn't really call it a song.

"Well, where was I...," Dango fell down on to the carpet. "Ah... yes... spirituality, man. That's everything. You should know... there's the Spirit... and nothing more. You'll detach yourself from the world's sufferings."

Roe never really believed in all this crap. Being a pessimist and all. But today he wanted it. He took a deep drag from the joint.

The stuff slowly started hitting him. Dango said it was Afghan. It didn't really matter to Roe.

Roe took another deep drag. The grey cloud enveloped his vision as the stuff clouded his awareness. He took another look at the ink splatters on his sunshine white shirt his Dad bought him for job interviews.

Blots of blue ink transformed into majestic oceans. Blending slowly into each other. Separated by white sands. Bright white sands. It shimmered under the bright sun. Almost blinding Roe. The water started sparkling, reflecting a clear blue sky above it. Majestic waves slowly started forming. It crashed into the white beach leaving a small, frothy trail. He took five steps backward. Like those old toy cars. Couple of inch backwards. And he hit the blue ocean like a kid who's found freedom from school.

And Roe wasn't pessimistic anymore.

Hic!

Buy yourself a drink from the bar.

Buy a mocktail for the teetotaller chic at the counter.

Buy a cocktail for the girl on the dance floor.

Share your drink with the girl in the lounge.

Buy yourself another drink from the bar.

Buy a cocktail for the teetotaller chic at the counter.

Throw drinks at each other with the girl on the dancefloor.

Keep the girl in the lounge waiting.

Buy yourself another drink from the bar.

Offer a drink to the teetotaller chic who’s no longer at the counter.

Wait in the lounge for the girl on the dancefloor.

Why’s that girl in the lounge staring like that?

Buy yourself another drink from the bar.

Buy a cocktail for the teetotaller who's doing trick bartending now.

Play with the teetotaller's cute little goatee.

Kiss the teetotaller's burly hand placed on your shoulders.

Buy yourself another drink from the bar.

Hey! You're flying out!

Drop

Golden gates,

At sun down.

I fall.

Around the sun,

The flame licks,

Torching the heart

To a cinder dark brown.

Through clouds

Where I reach out,

For a silver line.

It scars my skin with naked sorrows.

Flights, flocks

The birds soaring.

I plead,

Carry me from here.

Down,

The drop ends?

Am I dreaming,

Or is it a nightmare?

Further below,

Society,

With its green and brown,

Awaits me with Devil's clutches.

A craned neck,

I look up,

At where it all began.

It did.

With a fall,

A drop.

Photos from an onsite IT professional

(Psst. I don't actually have the photos. But this is more or less how it goes. You can verify with the orkut album of someone you know. Psst over.)

Onsite - the nameless mecca that is an IT professional's haven. But what does he click when he's there?

Arbit photographs, like:

1) Ben (my new colleague), his girlfriend Heather and me

2) Statue of Liberty and I (shot in a low angle with caption that says, "Who's taller?")

3) Me in front of Niagara falls (caption: such a beautiful place for a country's border)

4) Me and my new car (Caption: my new ride)

5) Me in front of random building

6) Me in front of random roadside statue

7) Me sitting on a park bench

8) Me in front of New York traffic

9) Me with my Starbucks

And last but not the least,

10) Me playing in snow (Caption: It's snowing!)

Wow, genius. How did you figure that out? Why don't you check again? It might be coagulated calcium dispensed from heaven.

An i-doser Q&A

For starters, the i-doser is an application which plays binaural audio (jargonified freaky sounds) which stimulates your brains to give you the effect of various drugs (among others). I had decent results with i-doser and I was a skeptic.

For a very in-depth research on i-doser click here.

Let me try answering a few of the regular concerns:

1) Does it work?
A: Binaural audio HAS to work. Many years back i had seen an article about a Tantric (Saint) in Japan. He had many disciples who went week after week to meet this guy. The Jap cops found him to be a major fraud who was into other shitty business; what they were clueless about was how he got so many disciples. They checked everything, no success with drugs. Finally someone checked a tape of one of his prayer sessions. They analyzed it and VOILA... the recorded prayers were layered over Binaural sound. They edited the prayer and played only the Binaural part. I can still remember my feeling... it was scary scary sound.

2) Placebo?
A: No. I don't think so. Why not? See below.

3) Why restful state of mind and lying down and all that shit, when a real drug doesn't need all that?
A: The real drug ACTUALLY alters you chemical structure. There are ACTUAL changes happening inside you. We, as mortal human beings, don't have control over the chemical composition of our blood. We cannot manipulate it. A drug can; and easily. Thats why its a straight out trip. Whereas, the i-doser works through sounds stimulating brain waves. And we have a more direct control with our brain than with our blood stream. We can forcefully start thinking and analyzing so that our brain remains occupied and unaffected by stimulus. I can argue on the same defense that you can quell down a marijuana trip the same way. Thats the reason why the relaxed state requirement. Oh by the way, it is actually difficult to relax your brain, thats why meditation is so niche.

4) How are the trips?
A: Not bad actually. Like a few people had mentioned; you feel REMs. Oh yeah, really thats freakish. Rapid Eye Movement they say happens only during dreams. So this has to be something. And weird dreams, dreams that you can feel and experience; but unfortunately, I couldn't remember them. A creepy stuff happened when I actually heard someone shout in my dream, and the sound just dissolved into the binaural audio. I swear i could feel that shout just melting into the sound through the headphones.
That said, the trips are really not all that great when compared to the real stuff. For example, their DMT trip promised cosmos and planets and all bull crap and I didnt see any of that. But the trip was good. Acid trip was a load of face twitching and real fun.

So there, now its upto you to make whatever of it. Try it, its fun, and quite effective, like their Calm ME. That made me feel good through the day, and trust me it was a rather nasty day that. Placebo? Why should I care when it actually worked. All you sceptics get me something else (another placebo even) to make me feel good, I will take it.

Update: The anesthesia dose works; and how! My whole left leg was numb.

Desperate Alcoholics/Smokers

Coming back to home is well an exhilarating experience thanks to Amma's amazing food. Well I learnt this time round that this will test your levels of tolerance to the limits.

I have almost (I stress on almost) given up smoking, except for the parties where if you dont smoke you have to drink. As drinking in clubs is more expensive than smoking, smoking is the 'wise' choice while clubbing.

Well coming back to the topic, I was just arranging my clothes into the cupboard in my room when my gaze fell on a duty free bag. This bag has been around for quite some time now, but today I decided to take a look inside. One bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label and 20/200 packs of Philip Morris and Dunhill.


Well see it all you suckers; I cannot get these babies all waiting to go up in smokes and... well... err... as a kick in your heads, out of my room. Neither can I sneak a peg or a smoke out of this as my Dad would know. If I tell him I have to take it for my friends, he will know its a rather big baggage for just friends.

There is no end to my ongoing dilemma and desperation. If you people have any kind of advice, please please please do tell it to me.

Addendum: I deliberately avoided mentioning the bigger-than-name statutory warning on the Philip Morris. Period.

Ramp Up (read Vamp Up)

Finally... my ass was glued to the cheap plastic chair when I realised that my blog was rather shabby and needed an FTV scale makeover. I had always wanted to this but never really could get myself to it. Now that it has been, it definitely feels good.

Dope has not been that easy to get these days thanks to no doping-gangers. It has really been tough times what with me moving into a new house all alone. If today my toilet malfunctions, tomorrow its the turn of tap. Somewhere it does not leak where it should (those are the taps) and somewhere it leaks where it should not (thats the roof). I am, though, in rather good company in my dingy way of keeping things clean, with the little cockroaches that flutter around. Seriously though, lifes not all that bad.

It has been difficult to blog with all these problems happening around me. Work has taken a full 365 degree swing back at me and I find myself spending more than 12 hours working these days. Sincerity, commitment, dedication to work; I hear all these words thrown around for us to work day in and night out. Let me try help these managers here with a better perception; human rights violation. I realized that if you go to office everyday, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep track of whats a Monday and whats Friday. Monday ho ya Sunday, it becomes, just another day in the office for a tiger (no wonder they are endangered).

There are sweet little cookies I have kept at the sidebar (now at the right), one of them being a comments tracker and another being a visitor tracker. I fear that these will be huge morale downers. Updates to these would probably come during the next purple-moon and blue-mars combo sighting predicted to happen on Feb 34th 201A (hexadecimal).

Keeping aside all the cribbing and blabbering, this time round, I take a stringent shapadh (English: vow) that this blog of mine will be updated as often as I can. You guys please keep coming and please comment often. I like to see those comments ticking and not trickling.

PS: Do check out the post below with pictures that I had taken during a trip to jog falls.