Narrator: The man with all the pretty words is Bourbon, known throughout the civilized world for his charm and quick wit. A smile is ready on his lips and lady fortune seems to smile back, along with countless other ladies. In the uncivilized, he is only known for the ladies.
Thankfully we all know that’s not true.
Hopefully by now we also all know that he posts ridiculous things on his blog - because it’s the Internet, and it’s not real. Everything sounds worse on the Internet. Times New Roman has always been a terrible way to communicate.
His blog however seems to have a lot of drafts. His blog is quite a drafty place. Here they are.
September 24, 2008
Here’s what happens when left to my Own Mechanised Devices
The days;
Read all my bookmarked google reader pages
Read all my comics
Watch tv for a bit
Contemplate watching a dvd
Read all my bookmarked google reader pages
Read all my comics
Read the blogs of those comic artists
Surf Wikipedia
Maybe make something to eat
But just maybe (omelette toast sandwich x1, yesterday's roti & subji x1 - if supplies grant it)
Smoke with my mp3 player on
Smoke with my mp3 player off
Do a sniff test
Maybe shower
Go to work
The nights;
Turn the geyser on
Forget that it’s on
Take out my list of things to do
Not be bothered to do anything on the list
Read all my bookmarked google reader pages
Read all my comics
Heat food
Wonder where I spent all my money
Tv surf
Read all my bookmarked google reader pages
Take laptop outside and experiment with music tastes
Smoke the rest (cigarettes 2 and 3 go over the lawn wall)
Try to blog
Maybe
Open notepad and write but get too bored
Watch songs on 9XM. Sometimes just so that I listen to "We are the Beaatle Nuts.... Meaning Paan Supaari"
Contemplate watching one of Roger's dvds
Don’t go to bed until i cant stand to stay awake
Brush teeth
Rinse face
Look in mirror
Read a few pages of a book before becoming bored
Sleep
Dream
Maybe
Sep 11, 2008
Weariness Kills
And cripples and hurts and maims. But mainly it kills. It kills a lot of good people.
It’s worse than alcohol really. Alcohol is not too good, I know, but it’s not as bad as being tired. Atleast being drunk lets you be loud and obnoxious and you do things you wouldn’t usually do, but when you’re tired your mind shuts down. Completely. The biggest regrets I can list in my life are things I’ve said or done when I’m tired.
But let me throw light on this weariness. It isn’t the eyes-burning-sluggish-red weary. It’s a whole different weariness altogether. It’s a weariness that takes hold when you’re about to fall asleep, or when you’ve just fallen asleep, and someone disturbs you. You say and do so many things because you are so bone-tired.
You can’t think. Images blur in lust.
August 30, 2008
Untitled
I have a new bus now. It’s better than the old one, in that it’s ten minutes faster and doesn’t go through those areas that makes me ashamed to be human.
The part I like the most about this new bus route though would be the walk I get when I step off it. My old bus deposited me in the centre of Noida, right beside a little shop that sold my brand and an ATM machine if I was low on change. And a bakery. Man, how I miss the bakeries from the South. That was nice too I guess.
But this new bus deposits me a good five minutes away from my old stop, right next to this quaint little momo shop.
Score.
1 comment:
r u in delhi? email.
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