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Neurotron | 31 January 2005, 11:26am

Tonight, memories nurture the pain
And still, black falls the rain
I fight hard, yet lose
As it was, so it still is
Strangely both better and worse
And still, regrettably,
That deep welt my heart doth stain

Words fail both you and I
A strange alchemy this,
That turns gold to stone
A conversion infernal
A strange promised land this,
Where springs deemed eternal
Are doomed to run dry

May the rivers you cry
One day shatter the stone
May the cracks bleed you dry
Of despair, like I have known
May the streaked cheeks shine
Like your eyes at my song
On this day,
May you be reborn.

Happy Birthday

Current Mood: Bye!
Current Music: Fade - Staind

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Neurotron | 25 January 2005, 9:59pm

I seem to have a serious problem pronouncing the D in ‘Madam’ – I just can NOT bring myself to say it.

Even if I absolutely have to, I feel the urge to go yackthooo after saying it that way. And if that wasn't bad enough, it has to be pronounced 'meydum'. If I don't say it, I run the risk of being thought of as ‘posh’ or ‘showing off’ or something.
Thank God for 'gaaru' (the Telugu equivalent of 'ji')

And then there's mera kaabil dost who is a major fan of mastication. Lunch time is torture. I watch/hear him eat, and its...just...Aaaarrrggghhh!! It's not like watching someone who has something stuck in their teeth - you can just look away. No, no. The sound follows you, like the eyes in a painting. There is no escape. It's always there, gnawing away silently at my brain, distorting perception, till I can almost see the pieces of cauliflower on my plate stand up and march away in orderly lines of two.

I tried correction by example. Na uh. No use. Then, others join the table. And suddenly it feels like they're ALL doing it! Just to irritate me to death! Aaarrgghh!! No No...get away from me! If I were to mention this, trying to put it as delicately as possible, or mention it in a humorous fashion, I'm dead sure the guy will say something sarcastic like 'Oh, UK mein aise karte kya? Hum gareeb log India mein aisi karte bhai...'. And I'll end up the bad guy. I mean, come on! It's not 'posh' or snobbish to have basic table manners. You can sit in your undies and fart till you're floating 3 inches above the ground when you're eating alone. I really couldn't care less. But please have the courtesy to respect other peoples' sensibilities when eating in a group.

It's not like I'm asking you to wear suits and use 4 fucking sets of cutlery is it?? I'm not even asking for intelligent conversation (I've given up on that), or discussion beyond office gossip and exchanging tips on how to screw the company over in every single teeny weeny way you can, am I?? All I beg of you is that you chew with your...frigging...mouths...shut! That's not too much to ask, is it? If I can do it, why can't you? You're always dying to pull one over me in every other department, when it comes to the job. Go ahead. Knock yerself out.

But puh-leeeeaaassee. Let me cling desperately to the remaining shreds of my sanity. And listen to the sweet sounds of NOTHING while we eat.

Thank you.

Current Mood: Angry
Current Music: Kill Em All!!

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Where the streets have no names

Neurotron | 18 January 2005, 11:31am

They did, in fact, have names.

It was just that they didn't register to him. He had never been here before, and he was reasonably sure he would never be here again. What would be the point of remembering the names of the streets, he thought. His eyes glazed over at the street corners, as he gazed perfunctorily at the neat little signboards, standing like diligent soldiers who felt mighty responsible about their duties. He looked around at the corner, wondering where he should go now. The streets all looked about the same, and none seemed to beckon him more than any other. They might as well have no names, he thought. He imagined what such a town might be like - where the streets have no names. There was a song, wasn't there? Nice song, that. And he began to hum, slightly off tune, as the song began to play in his head.

He crossed the road and kept walking straight. He wanted to find the old section of town, with the cobbled streets. Today, he wanted to walk on cobbled streets. He was bored with the straight and narrow and orderly roads. I could live in a place like this, he thought. It's more...alive, somehow.

It was late afternoon by his watch, but it was also late summer. The sun had reached that uncomfortable angle where it was shining almost straight into his eyes. But he looked around him and life seemed to have slowed down. People who would normally be rushing around seemed to want to stop for a cup of coffee, a bite to eat, a glance at the papers. It was all yellow. It was time to rest a bit, he had walked a fair distance. He walked to the small eatery on the left and smiled at the girl at the counter. She smiled back and took his order. He told her he would be sitting outside, paid for his coffee and baguette, and took the table closest to him. While he waited for his order to arrive, he smiled at the prospect of indulging in his favourite pastime. And there was no dearth of subjects here. He could go about it absolutely unnoticed, and the sun would help him. Life was wonderful. He was still smiling when the pretty girl came to his table with his order. She flashed a shy smile at him and walked back. He turned around and looked for a while, and turned back to the street. Life is wonderful, he thought.

He took a sip of his coffee, and it burned his tongue a little.

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: U2

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Neurotron | 13 January 2005, 3:21pm

Funny how both marriages and sacrifices take place at ‘altars’.

Just how many levels does that have, eh?

Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: no, thank you.

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Kanthri roads.

Neurotron | 3 January 2005, 9:23pm

Kanthri (Telugu, colloquial) : cheap, bad, of poor quality

It's time for a road trip, dammit.

Rider Mania '05 - here I come!!

This weekend is the annual Royal Enfield bikers' meet at Mumbai. People coming in from all over the country, apparently. Yeah, I don't have wunnadem bikes - I have been invited to join a friend of mine. This clarification is for all the brilliant ones who remember my baby Michelle and are wondering if I've already dumped her. Not a chance, baybay.

I've been wanting to do this for ages. And it was really nice of my friend to invite me, considering I'd known him for, oh about one week. A long ride means long hours in close quarters and constant company. You gotta assess how comfortable you are going to be with the other person being with you all the time. Conversation will inevitably dry up, and you've got to be confident the silences won't get awkward. In any case, this should be one heck of an experience.


Friday, 7th Jan.
5.30 a.m : drive
6 p.m.: reach. drink.

Saturday, 8th Jan.
Morning: drink.
Afternoon: Lectures (katthe)
Evening: Drink.

Sunday, 9th Jan.
Morning: drink.
Afternoon: Biker competitions - all sorts
Evening: Drink.

Monday, 10th Jan.
morning morning: drive back.
evening: reach.
in 15 minutes: pass out.

Tuesday, 11th Jan.
Afternoon: wake up. Call in sick.

I just hope the roads aren't too bad. Last I heard, they were really kanthri.
Now, excuse me while I go put on mah leather jacket, mah glurves, mah boots, mah Ray-Bans, and ride away on a 350cc - powered mass of mahasexy metal.

Oh yeah!

Current Mood: Triumphant
Current Music: Evanescence

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