Thursday, February 28, 2008

This Ain't A Love Song

Promise me one thing.
Promise me that you won’t ever try and show me your poems.
(Laughs). Yes I won’t. So are you flirting with me?
Hmmm...I’m flirting with the idea of flirting with you.

*from two different movies*

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Bullet With Butterfly Wings

Fiction is not me. I gave being Ellis/Gaiman a chance, tried to steal a look at Borge's words and even wrote under influence. The best case conclusion would be that I'm still raw, but just between you and me, I'm not really in the being-patient market for me to "mature". And also, writer's are a dime a dozen and bloggers wanting to be writers cheaper than that. But you know what, till there’s money in the game, I will stay.

And anyway, like those HSBC ads all over Heathrow, its all perspective (innit?). Which is not to say that perspective doesn't change. For like loyalty, it is very much for sale. Like a microwaved bag of popping popcorn, very much unstable. And with enough butter, easy to swallow but hard to digest. Ah perspective. Pop me one.

Although, at the moment, the popcorn bag is a tad bit empty. Cause I can't talk about existential woes and relationship problems and having fun on dates or fights in clubs. About music, drugs and wine. About how Valentine has a day, how I miss not having her here, how I’m not sure...of most things.

Why. Cause I'm still anti - social at best.

So, hope you get your daily dose of random nonsense from some other blog. Happy window blogging.

Friday, February 15, 2008


Now, I'm a dog lover. The worst kind, cause I have nothing but contempt for the enemy. The cat that is.
There's a cat lover in my office. She's a girl. They usually are. The worst kind as well.
We try and trip each other in the hallway, throw darts at the others thumbnail pic, snarl and float rumours in office about each other. Anything that can pass HR's radar really. As you can see, somewhere down the line it moved away from the dog cat argument.

Today though, she sent this. I think she's trying to get back to the old ways.
But that means I need to have a wittier response ready. Fuck. Just when I was getting really good at tripping her.

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 PM - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 PM - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

Day 983 of MY CAPTIVITY.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow --but at the top of the stairs. I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.


Monday, February 11, 2008


All these years, I’ve lived in the shadows, stalking you under the persona of a friend, harmless and partner in crime to smiles and cries. The guise suited me fine and I could like you the way you wanted to be liked.

But today, when for the thousandth time you asked me for the thousandth drink, another chance to be partner in crime, something finally gave in. Life is a series of moments, that weigh dense in the mind, until one of them, gets ready to burst like a fabulous yellow roman candle. And when that happens, helpless, you can only pray that it was the right one that burst.
This time, under the influence of the thousandth drink, the harmless persona burst.

Deep. Pretty deep. I’ve known all along, you know. I’ve even waited, with patient breath, for the shadows to part. And now, this, this is your coming out, proposing love from the shadows speech.
Why doesn’t anyone ever give it to me straight? Can we please stick to “ I love you’s and keep you happy forever's” and holding hands with kisses near a bonfire?

I am looking for a Shakespeare, but they give me Sartre.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Title And Registration

She: “The music’s sad here.”

He: “Yeah. There’s no dearth of sad songs about rainy days and lovers who don’t bring flowers. Here though, they play songs that truly pain - songs so despairing they can make you wonder why you even bother.”

She: “I like it.”

He: “I had a feeling you would.”

She: “No, I like what you said. I don’t care two hoots for the music. Champagne?”

He: “ummm..No, Champagne’s for celebrating. I’ll have a martini. Stirred like crazy”

She laughed. She liked beginnings.