Sunday, 29 January 2012

Sari tales...

For the people belonging to this part of the world,Saraswati Pujo is hailed as the Bengali Valentines' day.I'm not that fond of the original Valentines' day itself,let alone the Bengali version of it.When I was a kid,Saraswati Pujo meant dressing up in my mother's too subtle for a five or six year old silk saris and feeling claustrophobic after an hour or two.In the early teen,it meant settling for the best zari-embroidered sari possible to impress the dishiest guy around.Then,as I grew up,Saraswati Pujo started holding less and less significance for me.It just became one of those rituals which was blown out of proportion and therefore,made me hate it with a lot of passion.But I love wearing sari occasionally though.I still do.And given my hectic schedule,I hardly get to wear something as lazy and time-consuming as a sari.I'm graduating this year.So,attending Saraswati Pujo as a student comes to an end,finally.I thought I should grace my college with a visit this year.But I was busy with a lot more things.So,didn't get to plan my outfit properly.

The sari was a Durga Pujo gift from my aunt but I didn't get to wear it on Ashtami,thanks to the desperation of meeting a friend I hardly get to see in spite of living in the same city and a hookah session that lasted a little too long.I had no other occasion to wear it thereafter.So,I decided,Saraswati Pujo it is.
                                                                                                                                 Like I said,I didn't have too many fancy things at my disposal.Fashion Bombay announced the arrival of 'pile all your bracelets up,ditch the minimalist elite snob in you' trend.So,I took the bangles out from my closet.The goldens and browns looked too matchy-matchy.So,I added the current favorite silver owl pendant and the pretty but somewhat flashy silver jhumkas(not visible in the pictures,*Tears*),apart from the silver nose ring I've been sporting these days,just to add a little contrast.I'm in love with this vintage Kolhapuris for a long time.So,they were an obvious choice.And I threw in the Taj Mahal embroidered Rajasthani sling on my sari because well,
i)I love it to death.
ii)Not too many people carry slings with saris.
iii)I love to stand out.
But sadly,even the sling isn't visible in the picture.No brownie points for my photographer for sure!*Wink*

Saturday, 28 January 2012

Writu,is it too late?

I've had enough of men.Let me tell you a story about a girl tonight.
First things first.
i)We were never even remotely close.
ii)I almost don't know her.
So,whatever I'm about to say is my interpretation.She might as well be very different from my version.So,read at your own risk.
                    Like all my favorite fairy tales,it starts with 'once upon a time'.The only difference is that I can't offer any insight into my protagonist's love life.If she wants to reveal more about herself,she is more than welcome to do a guest post over here.
                                     Once upon a time,there was a girl-sipping Pran juice,roaming around in converse shoes and iron straight hair,taking everything in with her surprisingly innocent eyes but maintaining the sarcastic half-smile all right.We belonged to enemy camps-she had one of those infamous senior-junior brawls with one of my so-called best friends and since then,whenever I walked in around her(or her friends),I never missed that subtle(or not-so-subtle)hint of arrogance.'Okay,she's pretty(and well-dressed) but just because I'm friends with one of the girls she doesn't like,she shouldn't behave like this!After all,she hardly knows me.',I used to think.
                  We comfortably hated each other till my friend found her profile on a social networking site and asked me to check it(she was allergic to reading even a single line if it didn't promise her marks in return).That's when I realized being friends with my friend has been a mistake.I wasn't supposed to be a friend of this good-for-nothing,shallow,dumb beyond any recovery girl with fake eyelashes.It's this enemy I was always meant to be with.We had so many similar interests-we both LOVED reading,we both couldn't stop talking about Sigmund Freud and Simone de Beauvoir.We both grew up on a steady diet of Jane Austen and Agatha Christie but Aatish Taseer,Pablo Neruda and Che Guevara seduced us into having passionate,unprotected sex with them later on.So,you see,we won't be your 'quintessential good girls'. We won't be your panjabi-clad,hairy 'aatel' from J.U. with jhola and thick-rimmed glasses either because we never denied the pretty dominating presence of Prada,Gucci and Vogue in our life.We just never understood why serious readers had to have body odor.
                                                                Being the loyal friend I'm,I didn't tell my friend any of these.I remained loyal to her and our friendship till it ran its natural course.Then I sent this enemy a message.It read,'I'm sorry for always judging you without hearing your side of the story...'.I never got a reply.So,I thought she wasn't interested.I accepted the fact that our love story just wasn't meant to be.Then,one fine morning,I don't know how(and she doesn't either),she found my blog and posted a comment over here.Not a random comment saying 'Loved your shoes' or 'you look so pretty' or something similar;a heartfelt,genuine comment.'Maybe it WAS meant to be',I thought and wasted no time to try to make things right.We've been in touch since then,touch wood.
                                           Who is Writu Ghosh? I suppose you could call her a prettier,slimmer,better-dressed version of yours truly with a better vocabulary.But that'd be less than insufficient.Who's she then?A poet,musician,blogger(Resurrectional Apolytikia),fashion freak?No,she's much more than just that.She's everything I've always wanted to be,she's everything I'd never be,she's everything I can never have enough of.She's a dreamer,she's a charmer,she's a sinner.She's dark,she's cold,she's mysterious.She's death,she's pain,she's silence.She's everything she doesn't look like.
                                                                                                                              A conversation(the good ol' offline ones)with her is pending for a long time but I've it played out in my head so many times that I'm almost scared to make it happen.It's grossly over hyped,what if one of us doesn't live up to the grandeur of the dream sequence?What if I get tongue-tied?What if we come to a point where I don't know what to say?As they say,living the dream is ruining the dream.
                                                                             Or maybe we'll do it one day.Maybe we'll take a bus and when it slows down near Maidan,we'll get down and get lost in the heart of our city-quoting Shakespeare,dead drunk,laughing at our 'aatel' selves...'Your shoes look ghastly',she'd say,'so does your hair.They're so bloody straight! I preferred your hair with its natural bounce',I'd say.'You sound like a pot-bellied middle-aged husband',she'd say.'Fuck you!',I'd start to lose my patience now.She'd give me one of those you-sound-like-a-baby-when-you-abuse shrugs of hers and start reciting in a dreamy voice,
"Oh, lonely, drenched evening kites,
Forgotten, tangled and estranged slights…
Home of joys, now homeless by night,
Who will miss them tomorrow?
Sighs. Their quavering, articulate sighs.
That held them afloat all this time.
Sighs. Alone."
It'd be enough to make me cry.Not the passionate,loud cries I give in to after every break up but the silent,content sobs.She'd come close,wipe the diamonds away,look into my eyes(in the most non-lesbian way possible) and say,'I get you'.
                                        Or maybe we'd do none of these.Maybe we'd go to Outram ghat,look at the water(therefore never looking into each others' eyes)and read all those silent words we were supposed to say to each other,for these three years.We won't need to explain.We won't need to elaborate.She'd just 'get me'.
   Writu,is it too late?

Friday, 27 January 2012

Upsetting you:part-I

If I tell you that I miss you,will you be upset?
If I tell you the setting sun smells like you,will you be upset?
If I tell you I walk a few meters extra just to feel a little warm,will you be upset?
If I tell you I've not quit smoking like I had almost promised,will you be upset?
If I tell you I find it hard to concentrate on things,will you be upset?
If I tell you that you still occupy the better part of my heart,will you be upset?
 If I tell you I'm desperately trying to hold on to the moments in spite of knowing you're gone,long ago,will you be upset?

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Naming the one who must not be named,would I be put into jail,Mr./Ms. Government?

I've spent most of this week wondering which India awaits me in the years to come.An India where everyone is free to express their views or an India where I've to live in a hiding if I choose to make a not-so-politically correct statement,thanks to the extremist gangsters Government has been entertaining for so long.It's not only about Salman Rushdie.It's a much bigger problem.Wherever I go,I see the exact crisis-M.F.Hussain In Mumbai,Rushdie in Jaipur,Taslima Nasreen in Kolkata,it's the same old tale.They became the crusaders.We remained to live the shame.When I roam around the stalls in Kolkata book fair tomorrow,it'll be impossible to ignore Taslima's voice ringing in my ear-"Kolkata book fair starts from tomorrow.I'm the only one not allowed in there."
 This year,I pray to God to make our country a truly free one.
"I've been fighting this battle for too long to give it up now.I'll definitely come to India.So,deal with it.",says my battle-hardened hero.Always a true optimist portrayed as a pessimist,Rushdie says the silver lining probably lies in the possibility of people starting to ask more difficult questions.That does make me feel a wee bit better.Yes,I put forward questions,rather uncomfortable ones.And I crack funny jokes,often on the ludicrous Political system of ours.

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Mourning the final nail in the coffin of 'democratic' India

We Indians take a lot of pride in being Indian,in being the citizen of a free,democratic country where everyone is given equal precedence,where no voice is lost amidst the chaos,where no one is denied justice and most importantly,where everyone is free to have an opinion.And that's precisely why the recent controversy regarding Salman Rushdie's presence in the Jaipur Literature Festival saddens me to death.
                                                                                                                       It doesn't take a literature critic to understand what a genius this man is.I've not read all his books but pondering over 'Midnight's children' for a considerable amount of time(Yes,it's the book that took me the longest time to finish) and reading select pages from 'The Satanic Verses' were enough to make up my mind on this legend.He isn't a feel-good writer,I'll give you that.But I don't know of a better read when I'm in any kind of emotional dilemma,when I'm having doubts about myself,about my abilities as an individual,when I feel like I've turned into everything I've been loathing since,like,forever...he comes to my rescue.He isn't easy-going,he isn't quick but just going through his books once restores my confidence back-my confidence on humanity,my confidence on the world.And to see that very man fall prey to this nasty conspiracy is extremely disheartening.
                                                                                                                                  You know what,I won't even get into that.Yes,he's one of my THE most favourite authors but then,someone might not like his works as much as I do and I totally understand that.But even if they don't,does that mean he shouldn't be allowed to say what he wants to,write what he'd like to...why'd he need an allowance in the first place?He's as much Indian as his protesters!Did these people need an allowance in order to hate him?And what's more saddening is that the Government literally remained a mute spectator throughout this whole joke.Insensitive,unreasonable and downright offensive demands will always be there but it's the Government's duty to make sure these demands are NOT met.And to do nothing as Jaipur Lit Fest goes on without his presence is nothing but fanning the extremist sentiments.It sets a bad precedence.It gives our country a bad reputation and it makes people like me want to say,'I'm an Indian and I'm not proud of it'.
                                                                                                                                    I'm not a Hindu,Muslim,Christian or Buddhist.but even I believe that God(if any)should be above everything.Even if the author wrote something blasphemous(which he didn't,according to me and many others),God should be powerful enough to rise above a mortal's 'opinions'.For every Salman Rushdie,God has trillions of people singing paeans to him,so,why does he care anyway?Live and let live,dude!Simple!
                                                         I'm not an intellectual(though at times,I claim to be).I don't understand literature(though I try very hard to).I'm no expert on religion(and I couldn't care less).But I DO believe in humanity and I try to abide by it.Driving an author of his stature to a point where he has no other option but to skip the festival(which claims to be the Cannes of Literature anyway)is shameful for all Indians.It's a sad day for democracy.
                     I'm wearing this nose ring to voice my protest against something so unjust! I think in some way or the other,it makes me look angry.And also,I won't be voting this time because if I spend hours standing in a queue and bring a political party to power and then no one hears my voice because I'm a peace-loving harmless citizen with no backbone and I can't issue 'fatwas',why care?


Friday, 20 January 2012

Readers' digest

I always keep saying that my readers make the blog what it is.They take it forward,they make a difference,they inspire me...they play the role the people play in a democracy.And it's their enthusiasm I thrive on.Otherwise,I'm just an overweight pessimistic snob with thirty pairs of shoes and a few books in my bag.
                                                                                                                                  I savour nothing like a well-thought feedback from a reader.It doesn't have to be positive.I don't want to be surrounded by praises.I value honesty above everything else.An honest feedback,even if it shows me in a not-so-flattering light,makes my day because it proves that someone cares for me in spite of having no self-interest in it.I don't pay anyone for reading my blog.Unlike a few other celeb bloggers,I don't even arrange giveaways on my blog!So,whoever reads my posts,wastes their time without hoping for a gain.And still,they choose to do it and go on thanking me for writing though I should be the one thanking them!
                                                                              There've been many feedbacks that inspired me in some way or the other since the very day I started the blog.I already did a post on Meher and the effect her comment had on me.Today,Tanvii's post got me thinking again.
                                                                                           I was going through a personal crisis since the last week of Dec,2011.The result was Heartbreak and Co..A reader left a comment on the post which read,
'Hello Soumi.!Most probably you don't know me, even I didn't know you until I searched your name on facebook and was surprised to find that we are from the same college..(strange,no...?) Anyway, I don't know how exactly I landed up in here (your blogging site) during my usual net surfing after a long tiring day in the office. Primarily the name of your blog fascinated me... (Wow..What innovation!! Though I didn't get the real meaning of it..), then I started reading all your posts one by one (here I must mention that I am a great admirer of good writings; and yours are superb, very natural and your choice of words is very unique) and I really enjoyed all of them. But I was touched by one of your posts (Heartbreak & Co), actually I could relate myself (to be specific, our story) to every word you wrote over there.
  Three years back,I had had my first breakup..She didn't want to but I insisted and almost forcefully moved on. Her condition was pathetic after it, she pleaded for a second chance but I had no other option. While reading your post (Heartbreak & Co), I got a feeling as if she was pleading for a second chance again after so many years, because the feeling you shared over there was exactly the same, she used to tell me the same things, same requests, same pain..All the same..!!! Only difference is that she was not a gifted blogger like you, so she couldn't manage to translate her pain into some beautiful piece of literature.I am feeling guilty now for what I had done three years back. During all these years,I never had this guilt pang inside me, actually I never gave it a thought,I was busy making my career and took her as a lost chapter in my life. I never tried to understand her pain, never bothered to think how she was spending her days..
But your blog forced me to realize how tough it must have been for her during those days..!!!
All these years,I never called her, neither did I receive her calls..But one thing is for sure, tonight I am going to call her up and ask " kemon achis Shatabdi..?? "(Rough translation-how are you,Shatabdi?).
Sounds melodramatic, right..??? But anyway, that’s the way it is.
Wish you all the luck, keep blogging.
                                                     I call myself anything but a writer.In addition to it,to have someone's life changed because of some random lines I put together?What in the name of God can be more satisfying than that?I make it a point to mail my readers back after they put up comments in here. I don't like to reply to them over here because it just keeps increasing the number of comments,thereby giving others a wrong idea about my popularity,:P(There're actually five comments under my post but since I 'replied' all my readers,blogger shows others that I've got ten comments which is misleading,to say the least!).Anirban didn't leave his mail ID.So,I couldn't get back to him.So,I'd like to reply to him in this post only.
                                                                                                              Anirban,I don't know if you're reading this or not,but yours is the most emotional comment I've received in these nine months(yes,that's the age of my blog.)Making a difference is the biggest thing a creative person can aim to do-a singer,a dancer,a poet,a painter,a writer,everyone wishes their creations will change someone else's life.That's the best award one can hope for.You've taken a brave decision.Good luck with that.I personally believe that it's never too late.No matter what the outcome is,do let me know,will you?And if you're in Kolkata,you might come by
and say 'hi' sometimes.I love meeting my readers and other fellow bloggers!Feel free to meet me in college or elsewhere.Maybe I can share my story in detail then.It's been a while since I talked about my heartbreak because it wasn't a typical relationship and not many people understand.Also,people get judgmental very easily.And no,I don't think what you said sounds melodramatic.In fact,it's the most non-cheesily romantic things I've come across in a long,long time.God bless you.I sincerely hope you and Shatabdi follow it through and become one of those 'ridiculously happy' couples.And even if you don't,even if she has moved on,do stay in touch.I'm a pain freak and I think no emotion can ever be as pure as pain.God chooses those to inflict with pain who're stronger than the happy ones.So,you and I are God's special children.Cheers to that!

                                                   Coming back to the outfit,I've been wearing this pendant regularly for almost a month but since I never take close up shots,they get lost in almost every picture of mine.I've a soft spot for this watch though it shows no time any more(not the correct time,that is).This pink wallet is something I never leave home without.It adds fun and color to whatever I'm wearing.I've been obsessed with anything yellow for close to a year or more.So,that explains the frequent presence of this kolhapuri in my posts.hope you all had a great week.Take care.Love.

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

To sir,with love-part II

I stood there,sucking my finger,reliving the day,reaffirming to myself that it,indeed,was real.
I must've been there for a long time because when I looked back,you were gone.
The slightly acrid but intoxicating smell of your saliva had made me slightly delusional because what I saw,
could never have been true.
I saw you smiling,long after you were gone.
I saw you smiling,long after we chose our separate paths.
I saw you smiling,long after our destiny was decided.

I don't ask for happy endings,sir.
Pain is all I'm used to.
Memories are all I've got.
Memories are all I've always wanted.
The good ones,the bad ones,
the ones we chose to forget,
only to be resurrected again.
I cherish them all,sir.
Because this is all I got.

I don't ask for perfect kisses,sir.
Suppressed desires are what I'm most comfortable with.
shy of light,
shy of truth,
that's where I reside in.
May I be there forever.

I don't ask for social recognition,sir.
Shame is all I've been holding on to.
Acknowledgement has never been my thing.
Buried but not forgotten,
that's the best I can aim for.

I don't ask for your heart,sir.
I know my limits.
I want to be there in bits and pieces.
I want you to remember me when you're high.
I want you to remember me at those very dark moments,
when I'm your only refuge.
Because angels can get you only as far as light goes.
Beyond the darkness,beyond the silence,
is where I stand.
Demon is your saviour,sir.
 You were a sinner to begin with.

P.S.I've wanted to wear this blouse with this yellow shrug since,like forever!And this 'jooti' is a b'day gift from a friend.The tattoo was supposed to claim its place of pride in this space long ago but I was too lazy to take a decent picture!And then,when someone else did,I wasn't ready to post it.It seemed unfair to share it with the world(the virtual world,to be precise since my family and friends had already seen it) before the one who matters gets to see it.He finally saw it today.Expected him to react more strongly though.This is NOT what I wore today.Today was so personal that I thought it'd be an insult to use a camera to capture the moments!My life is an open book all right but some pictures are never meant to be shared.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

Turning 22

Is it too late to share my b'day stories(and pictures)?Probably yes but a girl can hope,right?*Wink*
Okay,so,here goes my 'official' b'day post.I'm sorry I couldn't post earlier in spite of getting a few requests on Facebook.I officially turned 22 on 2nd Jan.Kind of sucks because I LOVED being a member of the 'forever 21' club!Just didn't know 'forever' isn't,well, 'forever' for everyone.*Tears and sobs*
                                                                                            There's nothing wrong with getting old.I just have an uneasy relationship with even numbers.Even when I was a kid,I won't take two chocolates for anything!It'd always have to be one or three.But more on that later.
                                                                               I was going through a hell lot of inner conflicts since the last week of Dec(though it's been resolved now,thanks to something I said by mistake!). That made my b'day a lot less fun than it was supposed to be.My friends DID try their best to cheer me up-showering me with gifts,making me laugh in the lamest way possible,talking some sense into my thick head...but that's the thing about this stupid heart of ours.We've to let it run its natural course.And then,automatically,it stops hurting.
                                                                                                                                             Anyway,I took my friends to China town for lunch.Then we went to Victoria memorial and then three of us stayed back for another friend of mine who was coming from college.Thought would share some pictures.

At Oly pub,in the evening

At China town,for lunch

We stopped by Baskin Robbins for ice cream

The only decent looking piece of my b'day cake
                                                                                                            On a parting note,something to stay true to my dark self,
"I never knew living was this painful.
I thought I had seen all the darkness in your womb.
I thought the world held no surprise to me at all!
Little did I know I was yet to live."                           

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

That's just me

I am she who waited for years for the first thrill of holding hands.
I am she who kept stealing shy glances.
I am she who almost died out of embarrassment when you said those three magical words first.
I am she who won't tell you that she loved you back.
That doesn't mean she didn't.
That's just me.

Of having ice creams while looking at the setting sun.
Of feeling each other up with more passion than the heat we both so needed.
Of looking into each others' eyes until the last trace of light vanished.
The sun must've been amused,we were so hopelessly in love,right?
Or maybe I'm not right.
Maybe you never cared.
It was all an act.
Only I fell head over heels in love.
That's just me.

I'm she who won't stop crying when the honeymoon period was over.
I'm she who just couldn't believe that you could be someone other than my charming prince.
I'm she who swore to herself to never let you in.
I'm she who you fooled again.
That's just me.

I'm she who's bruised and hurt today.
I'm she who still doesn't need your shoulder.
I'm she who can kick your ass.
I'm she who can bring you down to your knees.
I'm she who still chose to forgive.
That's just me.

I'm she who let you use her again and again.
And then leave her all alone to heal.
I'm she who did everything she could have to make you stay.
I'm she who thought she'd rather be the vamp if that made you hate(and therefore remember) her.
I'm she who thought no insult was insulting enough.
Because they were coming from you.
That's just me.

I'm she who never refused you a dance.
Even if every part of her body kept aching.
I'm she who didn't know how to judge you.
Because you were her God.
I'm she who would go to any length to make you happy.
All her feminist lines didn't make sense when it came to you.
I'm she who surrendered whenever you wanted her to.
I'm she who never questioned you.
But answered your questions nevertheless.
That's just me.

I'm she who can't stop thinking even today,
"Why did you do what you did to me?"
I'm she who still can't write the story with you in it as the villain.
Though she's pretty much okay that she's not the heroine of your story.
I'm she who can never stop caring.
I'm she who can never ask you those simple words,
"Did you care?"

I'm she who has walked a lot.
I'm she who could use a little rest.
I'm she who's tired of life.
Though she's only seventeen.

I'm she who talks to the dead.
I'm she who wakes up in the middle of the night,screaming,
"Why won't Aarushi Talwar get the justice she deserved?"
No one answers her back.
But she still doesn't fall asleep.
When no one comes to her rescue,her tears do.
And she puts herself to sleep,crying.
That's just me.

I'm she who's filled with rage-
"Why does Manu Sharma get to visit his family?"
I'm she who can't accept it
when Jessica is denied access to the heaven.
Because she was a,well,'bartender'.
 That's just me.

I'm she who hugs Taslima Nasreen,
and says it's okay to be hated rather than being ignored.
I'm she who storms out of the room.
When an elder makes virginity a big deal.
And says,"that girl was loose."

I'm she who feels like going on a world tour,
showing everyone the middle finger.
I'm she who doesn't care if she's sleeping on mats or grass,
as long as she fights for the right cause.

Immature,stupid,lost in her own world,
is that what you still think of me?
Then maybe it's time you did a reality check.
Because I grew up.
Yes,that'd be me.

Sunday, 8 January 2012

Catching up...

Most of the bloggers are done with their new year posts and I'm struggling to catch up.Literally.
Sounds cliched but this new year DOES mark a new beginning for me.Embracing the new,moving on,not forgetting the old but learning to accommodate it comfortably in your heart.Not closing the door forever,just making sure it's locked so that the thieves can't break in.Stop fighting the tears and accept the fact that there's nothing shameful in crying instead.Stop calling when I know that the phone won't be answered.In fact,I don't want the phone to be answered.That'd be almost weird because I don't know what to say.I just got used to the way the ring sounds.
I've lived the saying 'you can never get rid of your past,no matter where you escape,it'll always catch up with you' throughout my precious little life,literally!I don't come from a background I'm proud of(except for my parents and the sacrifices they made for me)and I escaped from it all along but I just never wasn't fast enough.I lost all the 'catch me if you can' games.
Sometimes I DO feel like putting myself into God's shoes.You've heard about those cliched essays like 'what'd you do if you became a millionaire for a day' or 'what'd you do if you became God for a day' for sure.
People write bullshits like 'I want to put an end to the Iraq war' or 'I want every child to receive education' or something equally pretentious.
I'd like to see the way God sees my life,day in and day out.I could use a laugh or two.
In fact,my life does seem like a joke to me only.Funny even mentioning that I ever had a plan,to begin with.
I did everything I had vowed not to-I smoked,I had sex with people who were seeing someone else,I've cheated on people,I've been cheated on,I've jumped into relationships just because I wanted company,I've used people,I've been used,I lied to my mom,I missed dance classes,I kissed a girl.My life is one fucked up shit-full of lies that have been there for so long that I almost believe them now.
My verbals teacher says we should never end something on a pessimistic note.I nod politely,go home back and try to figure things out,always hoping for a better result.But I'm stuck at the same place every freakin' time!
By now,you must've got used to my ranting.I hope you don't look for mushy stories in my blog because I'm anything but sweet and life is anything but fair.
My facebook album containing my b'day pictures says 'Thank God I was born!',I'm thinking of changing it to 'How I wish I weren't born at all!'But it might not do justice to the happy pictures.
Yes,that's why I need shopping,that's why I need to go out so often,that's why I'll never get over masturbation and porns even if I don't 'access' them for a good many months.Because,at the end of it,I'm just a pseudo-soul.It's all empty down there.So fucking empty that it'll scare the shit out of most of you.
That's as far as Hank Moody can get me.Yes,I'd DIE to be Karen or pretty much anyone he fucks because I'm in love with the idea of being with a dysfunctional genius.
"Doing the right thing,feeling the right thing",God knows how long it's been since I sang that sweet little carol of mine.The idea was never to fall in love in the first place.And then,never to fall out of it.
Everybody wants that perfect fairytale ending.And trust me,it's scary when one fine morning,you find yourself loathing every happily ever after ending.You think life's easier when you start falling in love with your shit?Hardly so.
The thoughts and fantasies we're not proud of resides in the unconscious but why do they find refuge in the unconscious in the first place?Because the sane mind(the conscious,if you might) doesn't want them.
And you start smelling the real shit when the line between the two of them merges slowly.When you're so high that you don't know if you're tasting Champagne or pee!
I did have quite a few new year resolutions,in fact,it was a pretty long list.But I was just too lazy to post them.Or maybe they seemed too simple given the state of mind I was in.Maybe I'll post them,someday later.Just not in the mood today.Why do I've to stick to the rules this fucking world has made for me,right?
I'm my own boss!
P.S.I do have some happy pictures to share but this post was getting so angry that they didn't go very well for obvious reasons.Besides,Bloggers have some weird issues with the upload option.It's not working.Will try to post the pictures in the next post.Till then,take care.Love.