Eatable Quotes - aunts

Aunts are not like potatoes.

Bunch O' my Brain - Rage against the Machinery

Curse you cowardice,
You reside within.
Curse you wounded fate
Bleedin' irony all over my life.

Writeup about not yet writtenups.

yeah... i like the title too.

My mind has lately been in a very writer/movie friendly mode. Even the simplest of things transpiring around me play like a movie clip and lines form themselves in subtly sarcastic and mildly complex ways. I therefore seem to have a lot to write about even though there's not much interesting going on. So I deemed it appropriate to wrap it all up in a single post and get off easily. So here I go, guiding my varied streams of cerebral energy into one gushing confluence.

1) Farewells! Yes, the goodbyes, sayonaras, the ciao's and cya's. I desperately need to write something about my inability to execute presentably, my farewells. I always seem to think that I'm one goodbye too short and hence tend to reiterate my tata's and birla's. Soliloquy is a common ally during farewells and there are several things I'm telling myself and several more that I am not listening to, me telling me (please dont count; I swear I'm not self centered) .

2) The aeroplane. Apart form topping my "most boring ways to travel" list, it also features on "I'm sorry, I need to gape at this!!" list too. Its really amazing to think how these heavy beasts carrying thousands of kilos manage to get airborne and get back on the ground safely at mind blowing speeds. The only incentive to squirm into a window seat in an airplane is the view outside, be it a thin black freeway needling its way through snow clad landscapes with the horizon gobbling up a crimson sun, or it could be the sight of a well planned city with right angle roads sitting smugly, flanked by mountains, OR, it could be a first hand view of the intricate mechanical engineering in action on the wings, during landing and take off. In-flight entertainment and frequent meals are the only way to strangle the clock and you could also make good use of time by not sleeping a wink, like me.

3) My trip down the dreaded road of "order in life". I am by nature not very organized. I am clean, but cluttered and somewhat inefficient owing to the pervasive influence of disorder in my life. So I valiantly decided that this semester will be a struggle to achieve order and ward off the demons of anarchy. The past 3 days have been as proper as an English tea table. I've been sleeping at 12 and waking up between 6 and 7, making organized lists of things to be done and executing about 70 percent of these tasks (which is up there based on my procrastination dominated history). I also manage to eat at the right times and have reorganized my closet space. Enough said. I'm on my way to orderliness and hopefully will get there in the months to come. Bon Voyage.. wait! am I supposed to be saying that?

4) The part where I declared a vendetta against all fat gujaratis who have an inclination towards kicking the WBC's out of my calf muscles. This one is the most recent; fresh out of the farm. Soccer happened about 3 hours back and so did the flying kick that sent me spiraling into the depths of limb centric agony. And to think I even helped that son of a gun stand up after he had executed successfully, the operation code-named "make Harsha limp for a week". I had a brief vision in slow-motion, of Diaby delivering a jaw crunching blow to John Terry's well positioned head, before I felt the full force of dhokla - power just under my right calf. I will limp all of the 3 steps to my bed after I'm done publishing this post; I walk away a humble soul, forever afraid of fat gujaratis and their unwarranted desires, mostly revolving around the inviting prospect of temporarily maiming a perfectly good limb.

Adios.

19th, the morning.

I leave thee with fond memories and I vow to return ere the winter drapes thy streets again...fare thee well, Bangalore.

Must have's - bengaluru 2 wheeler riders

1) A heightened sense of competition.
2) A deep rooted mistrust for every pedestrian, cow, rider, driver, dog on the road/footpath/divider.
3) A fully functional horn (a scratchy drone with an itchy contact won't do... live loud or die trying)
4) An ability to memorize and effectively implement the mantra " Butt in and Cut in".
5) Brake only to avoid a life threatening collision or to let a chick (hen magalu) cross the road.
6) An ability to use creatively, kannada swear words (ask Mr. HD Deve Gowda for free tips) in order to victimize / defend.
7) A license or a lack of moral/social conscience.
8) A deep understanding of the following wise lines:
a) Rules are nothing more than conventions.
b) There are no conventions.
9) Respect for potholes.
10) Strong belief in - "There are no non-free lefts"

On a more serious note - Learn to believe that Helmets save more lifes when strategically placed on the head, than aesthetically around your wrist/handlebar/on the petrol tank.

Christmas Fog

There's a voice inside my head
It speaks of the road ahead
Of the black clouds I might see
And of the pain that I might feel

There's a needle in my brain
All thanks to Mr. Layne
It muddles the songs I hear
Down in a hole in fear.

Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...

Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?

Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.

There's a tune inside my ear
Dont drift in, just stay clear
Withering leaves tell me a tale
Of winters past and pale.

There's a ant inside my eye
Marching, making me cry
Blue and white, it struts around
She flies, I'm on the ground.

Trembling, holding the wheel so tight,
Red lights disappear down so far...

Colour my dreams today
Paint them red, coded grey
Holy smoke up in the air
Where am I? oh where?

Hear the sound man sing
From behind a riddled sky
Hold me, hand me a spike
High up, without a hike.

There's fog up on the terrace
A circle of friends in thought,
Silence heard and ghosts seen
In the fog on Christmas eve.

There's an angel in the air
I'm talking, I'm almost there
Her voice sounds like the breeze
Rustling in the trees............

Anything that works

I wonder what'll kill us first,
Sammy's dollar or the nuclear bomb?
If the sting aint enuf' my darlin'
CO2 can get you too.

Would I be lying if I said
That the world is a beautiful place?
Would you let me rule my heart
When I'm down there on my face?

No you do not rejoice yet
I'm only as sane as you are, Now!.
Dont take away my moment from me
I've only got a few to drink to.

Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!

You might be the star on the block
Or a homie tryin' to build your bricks
You might be upto no good at all
Machiavellian, doing your tricks.

Or all you ever want to do is
Light a smoke and fill your lungs
You might be the one who's cussing
But they are the ultimate thugs.

Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cap - Cap - Cappuccino!

Chant it, preach it
Make it your mantra
As long as I live,
Anything that works

I dont even care
Dont tell me that you do
Anything that sells
Anything that works.

Life should be a
Long lazy dream
Am I asking for too much?
It's a cuppa' bitter coffee
With a lil' cream
Cappuccino!