That thin feeling again.

Where am I now?

Dislocated from my favourite place, knowingly or unknowingly. I wont say I am lost. As they say, you cannot be lost if you got no where to go. I dont know who said it, but I like the statement. Not that I always wanted to go somewhere when you put it in the "Life" perspective. I was ambition less. I was dream less. I was someone who was never driven by dreams, but by pure instinct.

Yes, where am I now?

Why should I feel bad anyway? The rain may fall, the sun may shine. It happens all over the world. For everyone who live this world. as living beings. Should I be happy that I am still there? Or should I fret that people my age has reached fancy places, or have achieved heights of "success"? Well thats their problem.

I am alive, in one piece.
I can afford to eat.
I can afford good clothes.
I dont necessarily, have to support my parents
I can afford to drink
I can afford to travel once in a while
I can afford to maintain a car
I can afford air conditioned coaches
I can afford air travel once in a while
I can afford front row at rock concerts
I can afford to eat at fancy places
I can afford to live without a boss at work.
I can take a vaccasion whenever i want.
I have someone to call when i feel bad.
and a whole lot of things.

I remember the thin, young , 17ish looking boy at the bar yeasterday. He claimed to be 19. He came from wayanad, all the way to cochin. He works hard all day at the bar. He is hardly paid. He has to earn all the money from the 'tip' we people give. He has to listen to all the abuse the drunk guys shove upon him. He got a family of four to support, back at his home. He got an ailing father who cannot work.

And I am worried that i am no where. Watch the well of guys of my age and lesser, with green eyes.

I used to think I was great. I just realised how small i became in front of this 19 year attendant at the bar, who does a whole lot of things that I can ever do.

I was soaked in 480 ml of old cask rum just10 hours before. Guess i need more of them now.

Of men and women.

.

The differences are not just with the body. And these indifference's have been the reason for the battle of the "sexes", right from the time when man and women evolved. No one knows, why the female of the species are built physically weaker than the man. people believe, that's one good reason why the ladies believe they are weaker. The reason why they feel they have to be liberated. The reason why they fight (try hard) to improvise something called gender equality.

I don't think so. period.

Its all about the vagina. It is. From what i learn, with 28 years of experience on earth, the female genital is nothing but a piece of tissue, with a hole connecting directly to the womb, the passageway of semen into the ovary, to conceive. to reproduce. Oh yes, there is something called the clitoris, which is supposed to be the point of pleasure.

This narrow passageway, and the area surrounding it, or colloquially, the 'hole', is a hot topic of discussion among men of almost all age groups. It is normally invisible to men because of the multitude of layers of fabric that covers it. Right from pre teen ages, the curiosity of boys, as to "what is inside" goes on the rise. What I cannot understand though, is the curiosity of some of the old age men, who have been having sex for more than half of their life time.

The more the curiosity, the more is the need to protect it. Girls are advised to keep their hole intact till marriage. The failure, of which results in catastrophe as big as the super nova explosion. It should not be seen, or touched by men. But its fine if its a women!!!

No wonder, why  men invented the rape. The art form was there from times since mankind invented chastity, since they invented marriage. 

And yes, they are void of freedom. 

They are afraid, to lose the sanctity of the hole.  They have to be under protection of men, since they are physically weak. I don't believe if women  feel suppressed, for any other reason. 

Its all about the hole.

And again, why is it that women have to be liberated from men??

Its not men who caged the women, they are chained by the stupid concepts of chastity. 

Imagine, what can happen, if all women lost their virginity pre - marriage?? 

That all men would remain bachelors??

That men would never fall in love?  

Men would be forced to!!

Women are prisoners of their own hole, of their own body.  The vagina is a hot piece of tissue - not because of its beauty, but because of the unavailability. 

Gold is expensive because its rare. There was a time when aluminium was expensive than gold, because there was no known way to extract it economically. People would fight  and kill for aluminium.

Yes, people kill and rape for the female sex organ. Its high time the hype surrounding it be removed.  I believe the face of a beautiful lady is far, far beautiful than her genital.  I am not experienced enough to measure the beauty of the mind, for i do not have a good measuring instrument. 

There is nothing like gender equality. You cannot compare the penis with a vagina. None is superior either. 

Ladies, stop crying for equality. Liberate yourself. You don't need a million people rally for that. 

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(Yes, the image accompanying has been copied from the Internet. Shamelessly.)

Heart shaped Jigsaw

No.

That piece of jigsaw doesnt belong to my box.

But I am cutting the edges of my pieces to accommodate it.

.

Yes. I am cutting my pieces. 

Sunset Blues

.

I am trying hard to write humour. 

Only to realise that one should not be trying hard to write humour. 

. 

:D

.

I am trying hard to be better.

.

Good thing, I atleast know i have to try hard.

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that thin piece of paper.

I still dont know why I titled this post that way. I dont think I will ever know anyway.

Some thing prompts me into writing. Every time I open my blog to see if there is any activity, a new comment, or whatsoever, I see the same old last post. I need a change. I need to post something. 

And that is where the problem "lies".

Gone are those days, when I would write, because what ever thought that came to me, was amusing to me. Never did I care if that was amusing to others, because how can their amusement amuse me??

Things have changed.(not for good, either)

More and more people I know have started blogging, and are doing good, gathering attention, and the feeling of the requirement to keep up with their standards are on the rise. The reason why I write has changed, and the thoughts that used to come has changed. The need to keep stupid posts away, has come, or in simple terms, I am worried of the comments and the way the readers take it. 

I always had a big EGO, I still have it, and i dont believe it will leave me in the near future. I dont want my posts to be lesser than any a****le friend of mine. Plainly speaking.

Not that I have a huge set of fans dying to read my blogs. I believe the regular readers are less than four, and but there are scores of other people accidently coming to my blog, thanks to google, and my post - the Chastity belt. Because of that post, and keywords that are sexual in content, google brings in my link to people who search on "how to make a chastity belt." or related topics. 

I have started to speak to myself. 

You dont have to be like this. There is no point trying to impress people with your writing. Go back to the basics. Write for yourself. Dont even publish it.

sigh. When will I change?

On the brighter side

.

One good thing about drinking is that you can quit again and again.

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GOD - 2

Rules of the believer:

Every good things that come to you is the grace of GOD

Every Bad things are from the Devil.

God must be indebted to devil.

Without him, he would lose all followers.

.

...

.

you wil always be a prisoner of your lies.

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The veil.

Fear of losing, of embarassment, of guilt. Low in confidence, and fear of showing up ones own face. The fear of rejection, and dislike of being what one is.

Wear the veil. Cover up your face.
remain Anonymous.

.


(This post has nothing to do with my attitude. It was fired at one of the anonymous comments i received early on.)
.

Soulmate -IV

.
.
Pitch black skies of a single shade
Sinking into my fading eyes

Cold streams of thin breeze
Flirting with my careless ears

Warm drips of shy ethanol
soothing down my cold throat

Sharp frames of abstract vision
giving way to blurred ones

Sliding myself to the eternal serenity
I always used to love

Shredding them all
for something I never liked

Dragging myself hard through
Winds of unused emotions

Fours years of unsung feelings
Put into chords of unknown pitch

I'm singing a song I never wanted
But Its giving me something I never had
.
.
(dated 23 September 2008. turning point, i guess.)

Tears

Tears.

Simple arrangement of molecules of water, salt and co. Produced and secreted by some stupid gland. Commanded by another stupid part of the brain. Mostly used as a good weapon against men.

Emotions might have played a huge role right from the times when men started to evolve. Many men are stupid enough to fall for the tears of an un assuming, innocent- and what not - lady. I say stupid because, all the while when they(the women of the species) are coming into terms with what ever made them cry, men run and try hard to stop them tears.

Tears are supposed to be rolled, and when they do, it has to be a good sign. So next time you see an "innocent (aargh)" girl with her eyes wet, just feel happy and do nothing - all the while she is coming into terms with what has happened to her, why do you have to create a new problem inside your brain for no reason??!!

I am expecting a couple of feminist - birdbrain comments on this one - yes, men do cry, I admit, but not when someone dies in a soap opera!!

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The ugly side.

The human body. A real wonder. The complex neurons and the chemicals run from the brain to the multitudes of nerve endings, giving signals to actuate smallest of the muscles, impart the feelings of pleasure, pain and emotions.  Every single cell has a job to do.

The clothes, and the skin covers the whole process. The pieces of jewels that adorn the bright modern clothing. They gives the shining and the aura to the body. 

There is always the naked body that we love to look at.  There has to be a wonderful body hidden between the lustful diamonds, we believe. We fantasize in mind the beauty of the nude. 

Only to be disappointed by the ugly side. 

Every naked body has an ugly side.

I too have a body. sigh.

The runner.

.
He has been running too fast with eyes closed.
He believed he was winning.

Then he opened his eyes.
To retire or not, is the question
.

Why ???

.
I always wonder why people kill people.

Now I know why
.

Not again.

.

The reason to reason my reason doesnt sound reasonable.
And there is no reason why my reasons are not reasonable.

(and I am not even drunk!!!)
.

...

.

i am getting sick. 

hee hee.

(obvious signs, isnt it?)

.

lol

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grrrrr.... I need my hair back.  I need my hair back.

I need my hair back.

?????

The Healer

. 

Time heal all wounds.

It also brings in new ones

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Cant title this one.

Mangala express is normally late. A three hour delay is never unusual.

.

.

.

I am cutting down the story, I am in the train now.

As usual, I roam about through the compartment, look at interesting people and wonder why they are better than me in many ways. I carry a lot of books with me, (helps me into sleep). And when I am tired of sleeping, I would stand at the foot board, stare at the green fields, calculate the instantaneous speed and average speed of the train with the stop watch in my mobile phone and the meter – markings on sides of the rail. Then I Wonder why people have to throw litter outside even when they have started to keep bins inside, Wonder why train is still slow, And dream of inventing a time machine – sort of thing which will get me from Calicut to cochin at the fraction of a second.

It was no different today, after a short nap ( this was fast – just two pages of “Pattern recognition” and I was out), I walked down to the door, stood on the footstep, took a breath of fresh air. Refreshing. I wish It would rain.

It was then a sight of a kid, may be nine or ten years of age, caught my attnetion. He stood near the train, watching the train pass by. The train was slowing down. A small station was near, may be this train stops here for a crossing.

The kid seems to be crying. Or, is he? May be he is. He is helplessly looking at the train. The train is not yet stopped. It seemed like he want the train to stop. He was not crying out loud either.

Did the train hit someone?

I looked at the front. I could see the platform at some distance. I saw two men sitting at the platform, and nothing from their gestures suggested the train would have hit someone. If the train hit someone, they would at least be staring at the train.

And then, the train stopped. At a very ackward position. Not at the platform, not for a crossing. I know. I know because I have been travelling just too much in train. In kerala.

I knew Someone was hit.

For sometime, I could not see any movement around the train. I was confused. I looked back at either sides of the train, and I could see no activity. Just the kid.

And then, the frenzy. People running . Yes, someone is on the rail, and precisely, below my compartment. If that someone is still on the rail, beneath the train, there is no coming back to life.

Speculations, and comments on who is dead, why, was it a suicide, or an accident, and so on and so forth was asked. It looked a pure accident to me, but now, about half an hour later later when the train resumed its journey, and as I type this, I am not quite sure.

People rushed, and many were seen taking the photographs in different angles possible. I didnt want to get down the train. I just did not want to see. I must be weak hearted. In fact, I am, i guess. I dont mind seeing blood. But, no, I dont want to see it. I dont want another image of death waking me up in the middle of a night , precisely when I want a good sleep.

The body of the mother was taken out. It was said the body was torn into pieces. I saw the body covered with white cloath. I saw death.

I saw the relatives coming down and bursting to tears. I saw emotions pouring out. I saw fellow passengers in disbelief. I saw passengers sympathising. I saw them commenting about accidents. I saw people calling the dear ones and letting them know about the accident. (I did that too.) I knew my heart beat going up. I felt blood rushing up to my face. I felt heavy. I felt helpless.

Everyone has to die. At some point in life.

I thought of the very few people I consider important In my life. I knew, I have to see them die. I have to face it when they die. Unless I am lucky enough to die before they do.

I have to see them die. At some point, in the next thiry years to come. (I have no idea as to how long I will live, but not more than thirty years, i guess) and I have to get out of the trauma of seeing at least some of them die.

I wish they were not Important to me.

I wish no one were important to me.

The Hermit. I am jealous of him.

.

A better option.

.

Somebody hates a better option.

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