I've been specifically asked by a fellow blogger to answer the following set of arbitrary questions. Writing about my personal shit is an exercise I don't usually indulge in on the internet, but I guess this calls for an exception. So here goes:
1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
Right Knee. Looks like the map of Italy. Broke a bathroom window at my grandparents place while dancing on the window frame (go, figure). Quite old though, I would've named it after Peter Parker but it's hardly even visible anymore.
And I think stretch-marks are a total turn off.
2. What is on the walls in your room?
Final Fantasy X poster. This one in particular (sans the DVD titling, of course).
Taking it off and replacing it with something mature has been a well procrastinated task for about a year now.
3. What does your phone look like?
Black. Bleak. Crass. Like soviet technology is making a comeback through it.
4. What music do you listen to?
I've been asking myself the same question for quite some time now. The closer I get to the answer, the longer the answer gets. But since I must say something, here's a somewhat statistically correct (yet very very concise) list: Scandinavian Nu-Jazz, Acid Jazz, Alt-Country, Avant-Garde American Folk, Acoustic, Shoegazer, Underground Hip hop, UK Garage, Belgian Punk, Everything Rock and Post Rock/Indie, Downtempo/Ambient/Trip-Hop, World music...this is not a pretentious list of eclectic genres, this is as close an anti-genre statement as I can make without arousing offense.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
The following one on this PC. Click to enlarge.
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Right now? erm. A cigarette!
A good job would be nice though.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Allowing same-sex couples to screw legally is perfectly alright as long as they don't make another religion (or anything that resembles one) out of it.
8. Are your parents still together?
Yes. And god bless them.
9. What are you listening to?
Song: Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
Singer: James Morrison
Album: James Morrison: Gospel Collection Volume Two
Though my ears want some Geeta Dutt-esque bollywood shit now.
10. Do you get scared of the dark?
No. I like the dark. It presents more unrevealed opportunities .
But I do have a little (sporadically occurring) phobia of closing my eyes in the shower which lasts a few days whenever I have a nightmare.
11. The last person to make you cry?
The unenlightened self ;)
12. What kind of hair/eye type do you like on the opposite sex?
Err.. on the head?
Blonde and long. Simple.
If not blonde, maybe black but has to be long (>shoulder length).
Not that it really matters though.
13. Do you like pain killers?
Usually avoid popping pills. Uh.. which pain killers are you talking about?
14. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Depends on who I'm asking out. And whether I'm having a good/bad hair day.
15. Favourite pizza topping?
Ice-Cream.
16. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Pizza with Ice-Cream topping.
Thank you Ishita, that afforded me some positive introspection. I tag the first person who comments (other than Ishita, of course).
Bound and Tagged
you're crazy too!
two feet without the ground and their footprints in the air,
to feel the fear around and to feed hope to despair,
sins we've all committed involve our hubris and our grit,
since all of our resolve is often termed as all our shit
to break the chain of our morose we're hung with hope alive
allay this madness with our prose and poems is what we strive
but madness travels with our words and ideas are it's crew
you've read this crazy bastard's poem and now you're crazy too!
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Oh Tarantula!
Orphaned by what I’ve become
Fragmented splinters of star-studded plateaus
Bejeweled yet ever bewildered, I am not becoming-
The me I’ve dreamt and I’m not coming home
What method prevails in your connive?
Oh tarantula! How you can decide,
Yet never get tangled in the net you weave,
Deceivingly invisible and visibly deceiving
Pray fortune favors your threaded fortress,
Your mattresses hanging mid-air for food
Shrewdly awaiting an unfortunate evening catch-
You try your best to inspire me
For what it’s worth I’ve learnt nothing so far,
For the webs I weave intend to devour me
For you’re no ordinary arachnid - oh tarantula!
For I’m no descendant of no Scottish king.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Undiscovered
Down in the valley of long lost days
He still swims alone with the hormone waves
Laminated in ecstasy, an oceanic glaze
Splicing up stories whetting his craze
The words etched on the typewriter keys
Have all but dissolved in his melancholy seas
He types and he types for the one he must please
The gibberish is absolvable but the hurt won't decrease
Rustic phrases parsed with asymmetric vision
Insensitive jabs at the symmetry of reason
His words, like raged prisoners out of prison
Missionaries set forth to find him a mission
Honestly, it's not the flair that he lacks
His words, perhaps like hidden jewels in the cracks
Are peering out in hopes of a time to relax
They're undiscovered yet but on discovery's tracks
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Recursion
Two mirrors perplexed,
Gaping into one another-
Fixated, as if sedated,
wondering where reality-
shrank to accommodate,
their perception of truth
Closer, then as they approached-
Chasing the insufficiency of explanation
To realize, that to kill the recursion,
They had to lay, side by side
With nothing in between,
Not even nothing.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Tomorrow
Dear miserable protagonist,
Future has sketched a suspect drawing
It resembles you the most when
You reflect upon it
Yesterday you were born at the ocean
Resolving to sink now, swim later
You tasted its ebb and the neutral flow
Curious, as to what the tide may bring in
Delayed sojourner, latent mourner,
No heraldic laurels are ever bestowed
To those who question the authority of time
Solace for us is just in the battle
May your maiden voyage of a thousand years
Never find an anchor smooching the breeze
Blinded by digital watches, may us all then believe
That future follows what tomorrow brings today.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
When She Flies
"reason is a whore", she said
as faith took a leap in her
holding back all explanations
she jumped to fly
spiraling upwards and propelled hopefully
muting all of logic
the azure sky turned upside down
the pallid dust on the ground annoyed
seagulls when they sang out loud, indiscriminate
incandescent, my heart then heard
the gleeful melee and chirp within,
allowing reconciliation.
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