Emptiness

Emptiness

I feel so empty,
So unaccomplished
So underperforming
In my life

In this mad race
There’s always someone in front of you
However hard you try
You cannot really win

Someone’s always better
You cannot be the best
My muscle fibers twitch
Not with the pain of overexertion
But with daunting thought about the miles yet un run

I want to stop
I want to rest
But I am afraid
Of being left behind
Of being out run
Of being overrun

But why do I worry
There is already so many in front
Does it make any difference is the 64th drops to 70th?

No my fear does not step from the daunting possibility of falling behind
Its just that, the moment I stop running
The moment my mind runs idle
Without that immediate focus
Of getting a few steps ahead

The futility of my destination
The fickleness of my life
Will dawn upon me
Like a clean steel shopping blade splicing through my frontal lobes

I am afraid that this realization
Would freeze my limbs
And numb my thoughts
Into a perpetual contemplation of nothingness

So I run
To keep the truth at bay
To protect this fragile illusion
That there is a meaning
A reason
A destination
That I strive for
Which my running will take me to
A cool oasis
Where my soul will soar
With an ethereal sense of accomplishment

The anthem of the ugly youth

(part II - pls read part I below prior to this)

You say u love me
U say u do
Despite my missing tooth

But, I sneak a peak
At your pimply cheek
And despite my brain cells
That understand what a lush natural habitat those oily pores on your greasy skin provides
A myriad of bacterium,

I recoil at the thought of touching it
Resent the thought of kissing it
Despise the thought of cuddling it

Despite my own parched dermis
with tiny grey splotches of ringworms

All I can see is that purple scab
Where your shoe grazes the heel

I wrinkle my nostrils
at your rustic bus smell
while you pledge your love
so deep and true..

Can’t you see
That I am blinded
By the illusion of that perfect man
With his exfoliated skin…..

All I can see is
Your throbbing neck mole
While my spirit floats away
In his steroid pumped arms

I don’t understand
What is it with me
They say listen to your heart
Cos the brain aint that smart

Well my brain knows that you’re the “real-one”
With your slight hunch and protruding jelly belly..
Who’ll accept me with my bulbous thighs…

But like a moth to the fire
I am attracted to his shimmering flesh
titillating my finger tips with the slickness of his body wax

I feel so torn.. I feel so confused
If only my “spec” was not modelled after those
Greek gods carved from milky stones
Who waltz with their hot bums in tight pants on my TV

Then I might have had the power to see
Through this charade of “beauty that’s skin deep”
But.. but… we are creatures of the flesh
Running behind momentary gratification

A feast to the eyes,
An arresting aroma to the nose
A tantalising touch to the skin..
This instant gratification…

Shrouds the need for something deeper…
I am sorry my deep love….

But I am human..
A creature of the flesh
That thrives on sensual stimulations
To create that momentary high

I am too young to let my brain take over
So let me run with my heart
Behind that mirage
Of a perfect cool oasis
That will quench my thirst..

An ode to my “metro-sexual” love(er)

I stare at you, your white cheeks with purple blotches,
Of unborn pimples waiting to blossom out,
Rupturing your smooth, clean shaven skin…

Like my juvenile love, nursed with care,
Fed with fantasy and guarded assiduously

From you, from the world, from all things real,
That will shatter my quivering hopes

I sit next to you, inhaling your car smells,
Letting the new hard back leather fumes mix with your intoxicating body spray fill my lungs…
I hold back the coughing, fearful of squeezing out “your signature fragrance” from my alveoli

You are so close, with your meticulously manicured fingers gently brushing my knee,
Every time you change gears,
I want to reach out,
I want to run my fingers (with their hangnails and smitten skin)
Behind your moisturised neck

I want to put my chapped lips, on your glossy ones,
But I’m afraid… of sucking out your cooling balm.

Instead, I watch you with the corners of my eyes,
Awed by the new up-side-down chrome spectacle frames,
With little bat-wings on either side

The moosed hair strands stand upright,
Mocking my loose curls that have run amuck

I shut my eyelids tight,
Trying to erase the images of the perfect chics with divine dimensions,
Burgundy hair and “Brazilians” (waxing choice)

That moulds your perception of a perfect woman,
Every time they pop up in your sleek handset’s screensaver

My cherished mint-choco-chip ice-cream scoops
Threaten to come out of my tummy
As you detail your new diet plans
And the new fat burning regime
To tone those 6-pack choco slabs
And inflate the already bulging biceps

I don’t know what drove you to this “wellness” frenzy
With alovera masks and cucumber peels adorning your face
In a maddening bid to erase those purple blotches…
Is it those perfect chics who told you that they needed a perfect man?
Is that what you want - Perfect flesh on flesh?

If only you could see beyond
My spare tyres
Hairy legs
And un-plucked eyebrows

If only you could take off your
Conformist glasses
And quit trying to fit me into your
“typical girly” mould

Beneath these human imperfections,
Covered by a skin with a few black heads, white heads and pimply scars (yet totally kissable)
Lies a heart that will accept you, with the natural bulges of the old age
A receding hair line and puffy eyes that night cream does not erase

I shall watch and wait
Till you hopefully come to your senses
And realise that you are but a victim of the “beauty industry”
An “early adopter” in their yet fully untapped male market
And realise that true love is not put off by imperfections of the flesh

But lingers on by learning to love and cherish those very same “incongruities”
Over a large serving of mint-choco-chip ice cream topped with roasted cashew and chocolate source….

Lay all your love on me....

The problem of focusing all your love on one person is that you might be left with precious little to spare for others in your life. This works out well if you are more individualistic rather than a communal spirit. Let me phrase this in an objective and factual manner; "people who are committed are always more busy than bachelors (read as unisex)". the term 'busy' is defined in the normal context, just busy with life, lots of stuff to do, little time to spare etc. etc... If you think that is too much of a jump, you may start at square zero, "committed people have less time to spare for other friends"...... hence my genuine dissapointment whenever one of my friends takes another step up that ladder.

Duuuh, 'stupid prabath' ... you say.. 'thats so obvious , and its no bloody problem either... dont get all saintly on us.... you would be singing a different tune if you were on the other side of the fence'.... True true true! Did I ever say I was right? ;-) This is not about right or wrong, its just the way life is :-D.

So what the fuck is my problem/excuse for another post? Honestly, 1) Just want to hear what people think about this 2) Will I be as bad as the next poster ;-) if I were on the other side? Does conciously acting upon this help?

Disclaimer : My topics will get more obnoxious and contain morally degrading infantile attempts at eliciting response and if you are offended in anyway... heh heh.... yeah... take your worst guess and shove it in again! (what comes out the second time may be entered in the blog for better effect)

being a silly little kid

kid - a baby goat
silly - mindless folly
being - a living thing, existance
a - connecting word
little - small in size, stature (what ever the smae of comparison)

i.e. a living small baby goat into mindless folly

ADULT -
a - adulterating
d- disillutioned
u - uncomprehendable
l - lethargic, loathsome
t- tadpole

So given the choice what would u be?
why do we need to transition?
can't we be like Peter Pan and the lost boys who never grow up?
then what will become of us?

Failure?

So many things to say, so little need of saying it. Someday when I meet each of you in person again, I will (if I remember to ;-)) ask why its so hard to write down your thoughts. But then, that is hardly a question that needs asking, right? I am just being a silly little kid again.
...and again.
..and again.
.and again.

hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia

According to this BBC news article, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/5049516.stm , this is the fear of 666 or any representation of the number ... like 06/06/06. For us (think this is something I can safetly generalize) this is a totally irrelavant issue (Although I do hate the fact that the last Harry Potter would only be probably released on 07/07/07, although its already bloody finished)

So what I was going to ask was, very bluntly, how much of reality as we see it is based on what we believe? (A) All (B) 66% (C) 42% (D) None (E) None of the above.
Oh, and you have to follow up with your reasoning too!

Cutting to the core

"Its hard to face reality when it has so many faces" ( I forgot the source :-( )

You tell me, "Be (true to) yourself" I ask you, "Which myself?" Oh, my dear, do you want me to be consistent like cereal and milk? Although it DOES work for breakfast for me these days... so would I be a single me if I just switched to eating cereal for all my meals?

The society demands that we wear a mask of consistancy, because the society as a complicated mechanism which needs not dwabble in individual frivolities, needs a way for strangers / casual acquantants to interact. No, please don't break that. They simply don't value individuality SO much that you would not be termed indispensable.

But when you bring that same mask home, my friend, you get under my skin. Oh, do you NOT wear a mask? Interesting, so your reasoning under all possible conditions would only vary by the number of critical parameters that are relevant to your decision and nothing else? Hmm... does someone else want to take a crap.

So I don't know you, ok, agreed, but I am still writing, I need to get past a reasonable word count to justify this entry, so shall I write about someone I do know?

Hah, that was a lame publicity stunt to start with my story.... now would be the point to stop reading if you are happy with me as I am. I do not want to cause any disillusions, but then reality does have so many faces. ;-)

Did I say story, forgive me. I have to submit an assignment which is 3 days overdue and although he (the professor in question) is the most lenient person about late submissions, I might be pushing it too far. And oh, this is just the 'rationalitation' of making a shorter entry, multiplicity, but it sounds convincing right? And it is better than generic 'busy'. :-D

So I end, but I do not end, because this is the beginning. Make the simplest cut, there is definitely a 'Day Me' and a 'Night Me', who are mainly active in the respective parts of the day. Lets talk about Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde, why did the darker character had to emerge in the night? Why do all forms of shapeshifters come out in the night? The caveman instincts which arose from the fear of the unknown are much prevelant even if thousand halogen lamps light the neighborhood. I go around pulling the tails of little monkey demons inside my head to wake them up and play in the midnight hour, they are curious, these creatures, because they so seem like little versions of me. How many can I kill?

Oh fuck, this is not going to work. It is much harder to write this in the middle of the day (its slightly past noon now)... I shouldn't have started this.

Just kidding, this is exactly what I wanted to do by writing this now, open the doors, now I do think there is a lot to be said about this, don't YOU? :-D