Saturday, February 21, 2009

15 layer meal

Some popular ingredients.
Some obscure references.

All intentional.
So epic it scared me.

If you read it one way, it's heartbreaking.
If you read it another way, it's something else all together.
And it goes on.

Tone, rhythm and structure have all been toyed with.
Mercilessly.

How many layers can you eat? Let alone digest?

Bon appetit.

Sorry, regular diners. Dessert illa.
________________________________________________________________

Blood is the Brave New Black
(rewriting His story)

black faces in white squares
Unhinge
Again
And look at me.
Ineffabliss.

Enough of this
Opiate of the masses.
You forget so easy, Mr. Blair.
I just might Chuckmate you.
But what's the fun of that?

A crucifixion is nothing without a good audience
And a great PR agent.

If you keep castling
We'll always know where the king is hiding.

Say, fellow droogs.

Let's pay the queen
a
nice
quiet visit.


In God we trust to save the Queen.
And yet Freddie says, relax.
The world still turns.

Run, Lassie, run.
Go and tell the king that the sky is falling in.

See the Wall?
i
t
t
e
e
ters e.


Take a long bread th.

:{ There is SO MUCH to say :'(

.
.
.

_
_
_

.
.
.

Why Samuel, how dashing.
That said it all.


Call me Ishmael.


Knock Knock

Who's there

Doubt

Doubt who?

Nevermind.

Nevermind?

Nirvana.


I laugh until my head comes off.


Ashtunalee.
Do you know any other words?
Just read my lips.
Did she just say br*tney on live TV?
Oops. Do the chicken dance.
(Did you see that Cock's reaction? )

Now
Dance little tin goddess, dance.
Then
Shamble, dahling, shamble.
The sun will set very, very soon
And Cinderella has to be home before twelve.

Time never passes.
It always gives us the right answer.

And yet.
It's still there, isn't it?
Do you know any other words?


I'm left holding my breath till A'm-a-gettin

Bluesy.

Yes.

It moves me.

Then I'm grey.

As if by chance.



Yet.
It still merits the question


Do.
Or do you not
know any other words?

And all that jazz

?

Finally.
After much histrionics in a glass house.
A quavering note stumbles past the threshold.

_
.

.
_

I thought so.

Onward, brave Ulysses!
We ride tonight on ghost horses!
Soon, your sunflower seeds will Bloom
If you catch that erudite Zero
Shouting binary in the street.

But.
If I go crazy,
Will they still call me Superman?

Peace, beaver.
Unshackle yourself
From your chafing ego
And heal thyself
In 15 easy steps.

And so, discarding his baby blues
and his size 12 shoes,
Kal-El trudged south, to the Trojan king's lair,
where Frank and Edward share a common wall
paper, unlike Mondrian
and almost-Joaquin
on two wise men
engaged in an animated discussion.

“Who you Carlin a Zero, boy?
Me?
I just sleep here.
I dream of paranoid androids
dreaming of electric sheep.
Christ. You must sleep here.”

And so,
Casting caution and his briefcase to a nearby urchin in the corner
with no arms,
he settled in with a wad of 20s.
I've got 99 problems too, J
Yeah? Well, there's a brother on the corner
selling cyanide and happiness...

Yet.
He wanted answers.
Time was being quite unlike his punctual self.

In the back of his mind,
If you can make it out through the smoke
You will see how the pieces fit
(because you watched them tumble down)

STFU, u 700l, and
Start digging, Lincoln...

We're out! We've lost them!
Oh, holy Roman Empire.
Caesar, before Dorothy escapes
to the dark side of the rainbow
and ruins it for them all.

"Since it's too late
to ruin the ending
I'll just tell you
what it means instead.
(The glint in the ice gave it away.)
In 42 different ways."

Et tu, Glute?

He sometimes dreamed
That the XVIth Santa in the sky
would call him a good little boy
for keeping secrets
and perhaps,
repent
and perhaps,
relent
and send him condoms that winter solstice.


Rome was spawned in a day.

The eldest children played with fire
and built feeble walls and solid roads
For the younguns to trample over
Just as a new day broke
Thus damning Rome forever to proverbial hell.

Yes, they recorded it all in their books and Ledgers.
Mirthlessly.

There's been a hole in my pocket
for 8 long years now,
dear Lycra, dear Lycra.

"Has it?
In that brief case then,
Light a candle,
I want to see how good you look."


Oh, how Frank and Edward laughed
when the barbarian invaders
took a leaf out of the Good book
and had a paper plane war.

As it were

A plane crashed into two hedges
And their unlawful guardian, the bush
rained down an ungodly firestorm upon the poor sunflower seeds.
From a great height. A great high I ight.

"Oh, if only my irony detector worked.

Let me guess.
It detects everything but irony.

You read that thing too, huh?"

He seemed to say.
He forgot to dot his I lid.
And if he misses his 6:00 tea,
he's a kicking, squealing, higglety-pigglety.

“Quite a bit of work, Mr. Blair.
Titillate my nipples
while you make your pretty speeches.

Spare me the fancies, Nancy.
I can handle the truth.
And Sally can wait.
Dorothy was punctually late.

Well, of course
I'd like to sit around and chat.
But you were busy
being
Unconscience. “


How long exactly
has that bush been burning in the attic?
Can't you hear your babies crying?

The world needed
A spoken word hero

Whose roots

were far away
from the

bush

that he often beat around.

Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice!
Things were just heating up.

As the Iceberg,
he pleads and the icecube, she begs,

Now see the little piggies run.
See them scream.

See them scald their pretty pink skin.

Oh, I love the smell of death in the morning.

It puts the lotion on its skin,
Or else it gets the holy ghost again.

We're not scaremongering.
This is really happening.

!
!
!
!
!

But wait ... there's a wall?
No dark sarcasm in the classroom.

Apparently.

Roger that.

Hey, little urchin in the corner!
The world must know you have no arms!
Gather some bands to give you a hand.
And we'll sing a little ditty and maybe some pretty
young financially secure star
will whisk you far
away.

Hey, little urchin in the corner!
Stop dreaming!

Get me a pack of cards, some water and a pot.
Before
You go and tell the king that the queen is deathly flushed
When she's not.
Surely you jest, Mr. Ledger!
Actually, forget the pot.
I'm Rick James, bitch.

Still.

There's an unsubtle twist in the tale
if you read
this.

It will take you an entire lifetime
to choose an eternal life.

We've lost Zion! We've lost contact!
Peace, beaver!
The ego has landed.
Huge tonne, we have a problem.
Washington, we have a solution.

Let he who is not stoned
Be the first to sin.

“You think that's air you're breathing?
Once it registers in the ledger, it's not.
And even if you dare try it one more time,
Oops, my cheeky, cheeky Cinderella . . .
You are not the One.
Again.”

Your wisdom precedes you
Uurgh!
Right through your spine!
And as you fall,
Whilst Acknowledging Defeat
You pray to all your frakking fairygodmothers
to rewrite a future they never wrote
in the first dhaze.

Someone call Oliver Stone!
Dial 9/11!

"Paranoid Android speaking, When is your emergency?
You were right.
You were always right.
No.
I was selfish.
And hopelessly Erudite."

Klaatu barada nikto.
All your brains are belong to us.
Bow down.
Lone baby britney.
The proud Baby lon.

I'll be ready
and waiting
when you come up with an answer
Cinderella.

Spare me the fans
and don't write songs
about my songs
when I die.

As for now.
Play it again, Samuel.
I just love it when you sing.


The exit music played.
As the electric sheep walked out
and fell into
their warm, cozy beds,
and a deep, deep sleep
dreaming of dreams inside a dream.

And thus it came to be.

That when the sun had set over Troy
And the dawn would not break for another 8 years.
That the Greek gladiators ran out like fillies.
All in favor, say nay.

And swaggering
In,
still making their pretty, wheezy speeches,
they collapsed
on their precious match-winning noses
a mere rapture short of the thin red line.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Thought It. Jotted. #1

Every man leaves his mark on the world, whether negative or positive, knowingly or unknowingly. Some are indelible, while some will soon disappear in the sands of time. Some men choose to create, some choose to destroy. Some choose to get married and have kids, some choose to become Aryan supremacists. Some choose to entertain millions with their barbed ire, some choose to gang rape a helpless teenager in a back alley on New Years Eve. Some do both. Some others, like Klingdar, labor under the delusion that they are doing something worthwhile with their time on Earth, when in fact, they are ripping the very fabric of life apart. Many others wallow in mediocrity, lacking the courage, money or nerveless resignation it takes to shove a gun down their throat, without gagging, without blinking, and squeeze the trigger. There's some things even drugs can't fix.

I have an unhealthy crush on Tina Fey...

Reading up on serial murderers, (a pet passion of mine) I realized a lot of them had one thing in common. Exceptions exist, but most of them were stark raving sane. None started out, y'know ... crazy. Something, or some event, either parental abuse in childhood or a mindblowing epiphany as an adult flipped the switch, and they realized their place in the universe. And nothing is more dangerous to society than a man who can see the big picture.

I have never actually met anyone named Orlaith...

Do you know the real story behind how Watson and Crick postulated the double-helix structure of DNA? Or how Freud got his psychosexual mojo on? The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley might get you started on the right line of thought.

"I'm here to educate and inform." - George Carlin

I know the Meaning of Life. It started as a thought experiment, and astoundingly, mindfucked me for 18 hours straight. I was the Creator. I was the Matrix. I was the glass surrounding the Alien ant farm. I was the Truman show. I was Big Brother. I was the Fourth Wall, being broken down again and again and again. And again. I was Zero. I was enlightened. Unfortunately, the watered-down version I attempt to present to people doesn't cut it. I Can't Explain the Meaning of Life. Can you explain the internet to an ant?

From L-R: My Sis, Klingmar, Klingdar, Parricidal Tension, Me.

My little sister got engaged. Well, she's not my little sister, she's elder to me, but with 3 brothers who tower over her, she'll always be my little sister. The guy's from New York. I went home to meet him to make sure he would make my sister happy. Then he told me he loved Christian Rock and I lost interest. Mind you, I didn't go to the bleeding engagement because my parents invited me. I didn't go because I missed my family. I certainly didn't go for all the old farts who would pull my cheeks and indulge me in stodgy narratives of their children's engagements. "You don't say! To a pastor's son? How ecstatic you must've been!" No. I went because I love my sister.

"Hello, we're murderers! Twix, please." - Definite Article

Have you seen that HIMYM episode where they write Death Letters to each other? I said death letters, Cock, not death threats. Those are better made verbally. [Wait, conflicting thought... It should be How I Met Ur Mother. Not only will that help their netspeak-savvy viewers relate to it better, you've got a genius acronym. Hi Mum!] I'm gonna start doing that. (No, see, we've switched trains again, Cock) Where you leave a letter for a person to be read after you die. It could contain PIN numbers, posthumous confessions (I was Jack the Ripper/Deep Throat/Batman) or just declarations of love to their sobbing spouses. (In Lily's case, it was Gotcha!) But I say, why write just one? If you're close enough to the person, give them an annual death letter. Say, on their birthday. In it, you can tell them your innermost feelings. About them, about their life and how it's affected yours up till now. It's cathartic, in a way. You can say the stuff you'd never be able to get off your chest, even to a best friend. For eg, my future brother-in-law is a perfect candidate for a death letter. Letter 1: "Christian Rock? Really? Could you be any more confused?" The best part is, as the letters pile up, birthday after birthday, they'll be able to sit back after your funeral and look at how your relationship soured/ripened over the years, letter by letter. I can just imagine my wife going from letter 1: "God, you're so hot! And you sure know how to kiss!" to letter 47: "Forever love; our souls joined as one, fused by the moment I first saw you, held together by a growing love I hope never freezes and dies, stutters or falls." (ThankYorke) But bear in mind, this happy ending can only transpire if you trust the person, or they'd read it! In the unlikely event they do, end the friendship when you do find out, tout de suite. You're as good as dead to them.

"1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a tongue war." - [ExGf]

How the movie Tombstone does not have more memorable quotes than Casablanca is beyond me. I counted 12 instant classics the moment they were uttered. How many does Casablanca have? Six? Meh. Of course, I'm biased. I owned this Wyatt Earp/Billy the Kid double feature comic as a child. I read that thing from cover to cover, till it didn't have a cover anymore. (Yes, I ruined my books as a kid. I remember ripping a Tintin apart for... something trivial. It made better sense back then. Or was it a Chacha Chaudhary? See, because then, it would be justified.) But yeah, watch Tombstone if you get the chance. I don't get why it doesn't have a higher rating on imdb. But then again, one of my all time fav movies, Ken Park has an abysmal rating too. Oh well. Life happens.

Band name idea#42 - Bicycle Day. (google it, I'm tired of typing)

------Ondu Shabda a Day Keeps the Constable Away-----

Ashte! Like that only! Now takeit like a man! Useful on these pesky auto drivers, I must admit. "Saar, 50 rupees to drop you at the end of the road! Wokay saar, 40 rupees! Wokay saar, stop talking hindi in that ridiculous accent, I'll take you for 30 rupees!" But I was relentless. My standard dialogues would usually include how they could possibly sleep at night and if their children knew their father was a thief. But now, thanks to the power of the internet, we can proudly tell them, "Illa meter ashte koduthene!" Meaning, "Suck it bitch, I know Kannada!" Well, that's what I hoped it meant. It really means "Too bad, I'm only paying as per the meter." Then throw in nim ajji shaata for good measure, but only if he persists. Works like a charm. Ashte!

*beep*