Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Blues Are Still Blue

I’m eating cholesterol free icrecream with diet coke poured liberally over it as we speak. Fat free America is slowly but deliberately creeping into my kitchen.

I’m also chatting with Australis as we speak. I tell her this. Her response “what kind of garbage is that?” makes me reach out for some Cheetos.

I’m easily influenced.

Oh, funny thing happened a while back...I was in a bar with one of my squash buddies. We were winding down after a game and I noticed a strange apparatus on the bar. It instantly brought back memories of one of the craziest nights I have ever had. In Prague. 3 people and 2 Absinthe shots each. That’s all it had taken.

I recounted said night to squash buddy.

He said “Wow, that is a crazy night, but more importantly what the fuck is Absinthe?”

You would be happy to know that I wacked him for his ignorance (I'm of the spare-the-rod-spoil-the-child side of life).

So I told him “Basically it’s rumoured to be a hallucinogenic”.

We ordered 2 shots. It was the american watered down version, so we ordered 1 more. I know, americans, plich!

Anyway, after those 3 shots, we hummed and hawed for a while and in one of those moments of silence that usually ensue in conversations, he proceeded to start texting. And for some reason he really seemed engrossed in the texting. Also, at the same time, a whole bevy of beautiful yet slut-ily dressed girls descended into the bar (The Lord, He Giveth every now and then).

Squash buddy looks up from his texting, looks around at all the girls and says “wow, this Absinthe shit really works!”.

I need smarter friends.

We did have another shot and he was highly disappointed that the "hallucinogenic" didn't make the girls take their clothes off.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Battle Of Evermore

In the olden days, in kingdom-ised India, a man was known by the amount of cows he had. A woman by the man she had. It was simple.

Evolution, along with bringing a multitude of choices in cars and washing machines, has also gone ahead and complicated the simple thing.

I've decided to propose a simple thing. Music.
(Now that man has developed a taste for cow meat, it would be torture to subject food as wealth. So we're leaving cows out of the mix for this one.)

So yeah, tell me your taste in music and I’ll tell you how many cows worth are you. I'm sure its a bit more complicated than that, but blame it on evolution.

I'm also proposing a take at this "evolution" thing. They’ve been telling me for a while now that we’ve become much advanced as a civilization. They throw moon landings, digital cameras, planes that fly faster than sound, disease curing antibodies, central heating at me.

All fair and well. But me, I won’t call us civilized till they throw a beer my way that doesn’t cause a hangover the next day. Now that's a daily useful evolution thing.

Call me a cynic. But know that my music cows outnumber your music cows anyday.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Oxford Comma

The Crime of the Broken Heart Rhyme
Good evening ladies and gentlemen
Good evening to your exalted selves
Gather round have you
Looking for someone to blame.

A broken heart I believe is the crime at hand.

A horrible way to go
And I understand there’s no emotion left to show.
I wasn’t there I tell you
I wasn’t even close.
Far from the battleground;
But I heard the broken pieces fall.

There must have been tears
Screams and maybe a few fears;
It must have been quite a sight
A fate I couldn’t wish on any of you.

A horrible way to go
Nothing but whispers left behind
Nothing but a new love to find;
And to convince oneself
That it was all perhaps a laugh.

But the question of the blame
Ah, the scrutiny, that old game
The him or her debate
I leave you to that
Let your roving fingers feed
And wish you luck ladies and gentlemen
May your blame be good
For the punishment sometimes don’t seem to fit the crime



*I think I wrote this 7 years back. I was also into aerosmith in those days and so the last line. Thankfully that's a thing of the past. Going through old documents is a mixed bag. Not as cathartic as I thought. I thought I'd share this one out.*

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Paper Planes

The bastards in accounting took our coffee away. The good kind that is (they left the bad variety there). Something to do with cost cutting and the like.
Wankers.

It's surprising how much an average corporation survives on the daily cup of coffee. You come to my office and I'll show you zombies like the kind you nightmared about. Zombies with good taste mind you, cause we refuse to touch the bad coffee, even with a ten foot pole.

Also, our first kill is going to be an accountant.

I've got the flu. The seasonal flu that is. Not the swine kinds. But everytime I sneeze in the subway, people turn away and look at me as if they're about to report me to the CDC, in case I sneeze again. I always try and sneeze again. It's fun to play with people's fears. Paranoid people are the lowest in Darwin's hierarchy and need to be flushed out.

You think if I sneezed a third time they might have a stroke and die?

Played poker 2 weekends in a row. Lost in poker two weekends in a row. My phuphaji always said "unlucky in cards, lucky in love" after he'd thrash me in courtpiece. I repeated that to myself two weekends in a row. Nothings changed.

Actually, I take that back. A lot has changed. Maybe it's the peekaboo of summer or the possibility of a brilliant holiday in France in June. Or just that I had an ice cream cone with hot chocolate sauce dribbled liberally over it. Regardless.

So fuck them accountants. I'm buying my own coffee.