Landing in Chennai at 5 in the morning can be the stuff nitemares are made of, for a first time visitor. For a man who's spend 5 good yrs with 3 yrs of hostel included, it just means one thing. Time to get ur butt inside a Pallavan Transport bus. Well here's where life plays a great leveller. Ego gets into the baggage compartment and the stubbed feet get firmly planted as the roaring hippo farts out a designer trail of black smoke and sets off. Now standing inside a PTC bus isnt really bad, if you've done it many times before. And with local citizenry including the dhoodhwalla, watchman and newspaperwalla for company, all u need to do is contend with bad breath and overactive sweat glands in ur immediate neighbourhood. Standing in a PTC bus is quite an art and if you havent gotten a hang of how best to work your way around inside, I suggest you let the master teach you some tricks.

Alrite, first thing to do if you're looking to grab the first available seat, always keep ur ears pricked and make a little mental note of the exit points of all seated passengers in the row facing you, the front and the back rows. So I did and planned my assault soon as the bus braked rite around Vadapalani junction.A little hop, step and jump and I was rite next to the seat in front, but some prized prick seems to have read my blog even before I'd written it. Ok so I lost my seat in front and the seat behind and in due course the seat rite next to me to evil predators. So I decide to chuck my pop theories of seat grabbing and wait patiently without singing songs of loss and despair. And voila, seems to have worked. For one of the occupants definitely was an angel of mercy to my tired legs. I rested my pretty backside and took a close look at the guy beside me, snoring like a fattened pig (that begs the questions, do pigs snore only in metaphor?), a slithery dribble escaping a little crevice on his mouth.The bus drew closer to Velachery and my senses worked overtime.Wasnt he the big fat bloke who'd taken a ticket for Velachery? Oh God, he's gonna miss his stop. His wife, children, father, mother, grandfather, maid, everybody eagerly awaiting his return. Hate him as I may, I cant let this fate befall my worst enemy. OK I gotta act fast..I gotta get this guy up on his feet and off the bus, never mind the use of some force. So I furiously shook him yelling and shrieking VELACHERY BOSS VELACHERY..If looks could tell a story, I still wouldnt be able to comprehend whether he wanted to sock me, kill me or pull his hair..Seems like I got it all wrong about his exit at Velachery.

What do I say, people are'nt too nice these days. They dont really appreciate the spirit of good intentions. I can only mourn the demise of an era where small acts of most unsolicited kindness were still appreciated.With a heavy heart I stepped out of the Pallavan Hippo.My little pleasure ride was getting over too fast.I was getting out some place with the most recognizable landmarks. Human and animal waste co-existing in perfect harmony.Oh yeh, I've reached Perungudi.The story of having watched three quarters of Dhoom 1 and Don and Bhagambhaag n all that's too plain vanilla drab to deserve any attention here..So skip it all..I waded thru the muck for half a day n lived to see Bengalooru the next. Gosh I miss Singaara Chennai already, n need I tell you, Pallavan transport too.

Current Mood: accomplished

There's something about marriages, me and blogs around which I can build only a very vague inexact connection. You wouldnt be far off the mark if you said marriage was my muse. Why else would I swing my fingers into action back into my blogpad 8 months after I last left a watermark in here. The marriage again I say. Therein lies the story. Flip down multiple entries and if you really are one of those freaks who cares about stats surrounding dates on my blog, you might find another entry listed long time ago. Well,pan back into the immediate past and lock google earth at Pune, Maharashtra. A first time travel in Kingfisher Airlines was made memorable by Yana Gupta's televised oxygen tube sucking routine. Well I'm sure some of us may have missed the part while concentrating on more mundane stuff like safety instructions. Some hold a view that seatbelts in Kingfisher Airlines are devices to check the gush of male testosterone from sucking in pretty young things in red. So much for my third world description of flight travel. Ground Zero Pune. God, am I thinking of writing a travellogue on Pune? I must have flipped my kidneys.Well then thats the part I'll skip, cos whats most exciting is how things pan out in an inter caste marriage, particularly when the boy is Marathi Brahmin and the girl Convent Catholic.To my total disappointment, the ending was a complete let down given the level of tension that had build up till D Day..Christ,why does nature deny me my fair share of drama in life without 'me' being the hero of the plot..? Some questions would never get a satisfactory and convincing enough answer, cos the question is so fricking stupid that U want to turn the page.

So there I was armed and ready and already set to get back. No kingfisher red in view, the poor man's ferry takes me through the skies. The great Indian flying dream has been realized. Hail the Deccan.Touch down Bangalore and news beckons. I got a Chennai visit scheduled for wednesday..Mother of all horrors thats like 2 days from now. Look at the bright side of it all, I'll have a story for the blog. This time I'm hoping I would'nt be denied my share of drama and adventure. Hell, I'm playing in a genre where I dont belong at all. What am I doing. What are you guys doing, reading this.

Freeze that frame, the next post Chennai ke baad.

Hot in Jan..Sweaters shrink to size..
J

Current Mood: awake

They say 'Maybe', 'Lets see' and that makes me sick to the stomach. Whatever happened to much shorter and simpler words like 'Yes' and 'No. Its almost like those words've been entirely wiped out by some irresistible force which excreted out some larger, exciting, more obscure terms and walked away.

Well it may not sound like the biggest thing wrong in the process of communication these days, but its the etiquette, my time, my plans and my frickin everything thats now getting under a cloud of exteme uncertainty with these maybes' and the lets see's. I presume the male race is still continuing in a very old fashion pre apocalypse usage of the words Yes and No.But for the much fairer sex (doesnt this fairer sex cliche suck, I'll get out of it soon, remember i'm pre apocalypse too for now) its still the maybe days. To give you an example, I say "Hi Sandy, what plans for tomorrow. Why dont we catch up over a drink..(Assuming Sandy's getting closer to being a 'good friend')..Sandy says "Lets see Jay".."Excuse me Sandy, but does that mean err, yes or no. Sandhya says "Lets see Jay. Maybe we could, maybe I'll confirm tomorrow. Lets see" . Ok now this is confusing matters little further. I can handle 'lets see' to some extent and 'maybe' to a lesser extent, but both in conjunction one time is quite a task, and both together for 4 friggin times takes my goddamn life. Now I got to handle the rest of this with the delicacy of a sculptor, sculpting the male sex organ. I cant possibly ask her to say a Yes or No, cos that would make me pushy. I cant ask her who she's going out with, cos that'll make me jealous. I cant ask her to explain further, cos that'll make me dumb. (And you ask me why I'm losing hair). And all I wanna do is to have company for a drink.

I have a good mind to let go right there, but the dynamics of this profound statement makes me want to explore it in a little detail. Remember here's a girl who's normal and fun to talk to, till she gets invaded by the 'maybe' virus. And maybe doesnt necessarily mean she's got 4 interesting dates and 1 to pick or 5 different places to go and come back within 90 minutes. It just means that there could be something more interesting than me that might happen a minute before our little drinkathon begins. So its a double edged weapon that would keep the persons importance in perspective and also give her the chance to excercise options.

Coming back to 'maybe' and 'lets see', after I'm left baffled, confused and perplexed and not having much of a choice to get much beyond that and much after my friend expertly changes the subject to the deterioration of the social order, I decide to wait and watch. And like all others with a history of failure do, I make plan B to sail safe. And I call plan B safe because it involves a game of tennis, beer and a porn DVD with the boys. You could'nt go wrong with that and you could stand them up giving the lousiest of reasons. And on the D Day, an hour before, I get that message. Oh I'm so sorry, I so would've loved to come, but my friend Danny is here just for a couple of days and blah blah...zzzzz...brr..grrr...thats how the message looks to me. So yeh I continue with my plan with the boys. No complains. Its time well spent. But tell me, does any Danny decide to show up for 2 days just an hour before I'm supposed to have a drink with you. And if you did'nt know that earlier, you must be out of our rocker, or you must have a plannin disorder or I must be as interesting as your mother in laws' goldsmith. I choose to go with the planning disorder. Maybe I'll put it to vote again. I could bet my butt, that she would be calling me out again the subsequent week and she would be faced with the same disorder again. And this time the 'Maybe' virus would hit her a couple of hours ahead. And bingo it comes true again.

So there we go, moral of the story, try out Yes and No, in place of Maybe and Lets See. Beleive me those words are really therapeutic and they work wonders, especially on the opposite sex if they happen to be male race, thats pretty much challenged on the rules of the dating game.And if ever some girlfriend of yours who dated some Joe or Moe tells you that the way is to play hard to get and later back off, so it'll keep u in the hunt and make u elusive and mysterious, kindly be polite enough to offer her hemlock poison. Chances are she might enjoy it and you maybe spared of any further advices that are light years distant from logic.

YES IT IS.OR NO IT ISNT.BUT MAYBE IT NEVER WILL BE. OR ....LETS SEE.

Cheerio
J

Whats it about remote controls. That little contraption with buttons that looks positively as ugly as any UnGodly creation to have hit ur tabletop or couch. I've always felt this thing to be the paragon of all vices. Like most inanimate objects in the world, it may look innocent, but dont let not its appearance deceive you. It partakes in the human manifestation of at least 3 of the 7 deadly sins (I'm sorry I dont remember all of them especially when I'm under the influence of excessive cheap alcohol).

Sloth -Now thats like stating the obvious. One does not move to the television set. It comes to you.
Pride - "Hmm, now u antiquated old idiot box.I'll stay where I am. Show me what you got. Bring it over to me bitch". (Spoken as u sit with legs crossed and back slouched on the couch)
Greed and Anger is varying measures all subject to the level of performance the remote control brings in or the entertainment the television brings in.

Now if you want to be a creative smartass, try out lust as well, and mebbe reason out about how it always leads you on to the channel showcasing the Sports Illustrated Calender or the Rio fashion week.
Dont try out envy, you might just not go any further.

But then thats not all. You discover that these objects have legs too. Now it isnt a crime to have legs. At least not if you look as ugly as a remote control. But it is absolutely against the law of the land if you possess legs and you keep them hiding, so you can prank your way away and spew your righteous anger on your slothful, sluggish and insenstive masters. Well, you may or may not agree with me, but I'm convinced beyond any doubt that remote controls walk and hide. They're desperate friggin attention seekers and choose a time of your favorite program to run a mile away into oblivion. And when you're done searching, screeching, screaming and squealing and taking a precious hour and a half to figure out how to run your television manually and get there, you might just find them sporting their best coy and cute smile, sitting rite beside where you were.

Now you could be a wise old woman like my grandmum and tell me that I'm careless, inattentive and ageing and forgetting disgracefully. Perhaps the two of you might have a point. But ask yourself today. Havent you ever had this happen to you and how often.If your answer is yes, then we have consensus that remotes do have life and its just the biggest myth perpetrated on human civilization that they're manufactured objects. If your answer is No, then you need to be manufacturing remotes for yourself, cos they're gonna be fewer and fewer human beings in the world in the days to come, who're not gonna suffer from an absolute and abject distaste for the most frightening inanimate object since Chucky.

And for now, I need to chase the little rascal and find him well ahead of the next sick flick on TV.Time to get my partner in crime for a fun game called the 7 deadly sins.

Cheers
J

Vertebrates of the world unite. You've found your vertebra. Just when I was set to sing in a hissed voice, the vertebra is dead, long live the vertebra..comes the shake up. Now just for the record here, vertebra aint the latest push up bra in the market, but it's got sound references to the spinal cord, backbone vis a vis public outrage over Jessica Lal as defined by the leading newschannels of India. Well it did take some kind of fingering to get the best of us to be at our strongest best. Thats right, SMS's did it. Public outrage is now just a keystroke away. Thats gotten the Prez of the country interested. I told you its easy these days to have balls. All it takes is a blessed finger.

Now for the issue. Jessica was shot, cos she did'nt give Manu a drink. Everybody including me and You saw it. God it was so loud you could'nt miss it. Not for a second am I being cynical here. I'm pointing to something that was so obviously obvious to everybody you did'nt need a court for prosecution. Then came the shocker. Media reacted in the only way they knew to, blow it up. And this time, they got the blow up dead right. The public reacted in the only safe way they knew to, report to big brother media and let known their feelings. And we did a swell job on it. And the noise was heard.

You must be wondering if I'd ever get to making a frickin point here. Read on, I just might. Thats the luxury a blog accords you. But yeh back to the public outcry, did we do enough? We really got an easy deal, which was cool..all thanks to the media..We got the who's who of the nation listen to us. So can we feel proud of our big noise? In hushed measures maybe. Think over it, if we did had the cheek to raise our voices before media gave us the finger previlege, maybe a Manu Sharma and Vikas adav would have never dared lift a gun. If we dared show them the finger sometime ago, we would have never had to excercise our fingers over a keypad to express anguish. Maybe if we he'd stuck together without being just virtually together, we could've made a stronger point. So Jessica Lal died. I'm pretty sure she would've never been earmarked as martyr material, but by some funny twist of fate, today she is. Did she live a great life? No ways she was'nt Mother Teresa. Did she in someway contribute to her own unfortunate death? Maybe as part of a glorified group of Beautiful Party people, she unwittingly did.... We did, he did she did and she died. Shayan Munshi says he’s moved forward beyond the Jessica Lal case. Somebody shoot him in the mouth please, so he never gets to talk, just look pretty. Or somebody tell him, that when he moves forward, he’s just getting two steps closer to a gunshot. Heck, why waste time and breath on him. He’s a pretty boy, like many of them. The party goes on. Life may or may not.

Everybody has expressed opinion, but fighting really isn’t our call yet, is it? Oh there’s the media for it. They’ll do it for us. We’ll send SMS’s and we’ll continue to send SMS’s. In less than a rupee, we’ve become socially conscious and made our big brothers in television rich.

Am I proposing a solution. Heck no, I’m part of the chicken brigade that’ll SMS to express my anger and then write reams of paper on my blog. Or maybe I’ll just express righteous anger by gritting my teeth and spitting venom on Manu, Vikas and Co in the company of my friends with a beer. Wow, and I make the bars richer. Forgive me, if I’m being cynical about the world and me, but for once I guess my cynicism is well placed. I should be back with another article, after the judgement is reversed. We’ll all be happy citizens for sure then and sleep peacefully. Let justice prevail, let people develop balls to fight. Till then let me keep my fingers crossed and keep the writing job on.

The chicken retires
Cheerio
Jay

Current Mood: confused

One day Shagthedog changed his name to Stagthedog.It would be chronicled in history as one of the greatest episodes in the history of human civilization.And to be part of this great moment, gives me great pleasure.I know that you must be marvelling at this huge sacrifice I've made at the alter of creative profanity.I'd let you shake a leg or hiccup to the health of this lovely tale. And I shall accept with both my hands and the rest of me, whatever positions of responsibility the world would offer me for this singularly wonderful gesture.Coppola is working on a mega movie project titled Copulating with Shagthedog.

I would be Stagthedog from this day on,even if I were to backdate this by half a year, though it does'nt mean a thing.It only means that Shagthedog moves and makes way.Well the post seems a tad egoist I understand.Heck it is.And you must be phenomenally dumb to think otherwise.I just feel that there is a lot that the reader could get out of this post if he distances himself from any feelings of negativity while reading.

Had an LJ meeting.Felt weird looking at people whom I always thought could'nt be real by any stretch of imagination (forgive the poor pun ).Was quite scary in all.Guess there was a turnout of 10.I was there too.The agenda was centred around the cultivation of globe artichokes in the Ivory Coast.Or maybe I just did'nt get what the agenda was.Latelyontime gifted me with a chicken sandwich.It takes a big man to kinda understand a small man's soft spot.

Mark Knopfler played 26 Fenders and I played with the band on my air guitar, a little away from the stage.Genius loves company, so I was there.I must apologize to the world that a 56 year old man gave me an orgasm in the midst of 50,000 odd others.The ones who managed to notice it, women especially, must've been turned on.I was too buzy to notice.101.3 FM did'nt have me for today.I beleive I was missed.Yeh I insist I was missed.

Oh Speaking of missed, Dhempe seems to cover up for a bit of Mona_mona that's missing from these pages.Worthy substitute Dhempe.Way to go.Doors are open for others who would like to walk in.I'm large hearted in addition to being sacrificial by nature.So I can accomodate and tolerate more than 2 readers here.

Listening to Love Over Gold, one of those compositions when Knopfler used to have hair.Supreme stuff.

Getting some fresh air and mint to go with it.Welcome to Peppermint Lounge.Exit the Newfound Stagthedog.

Cheerio
Jay

Current Mood: content

What do you call a situation wherein your brains freeze, your fingers go numb and your whole body quivers with fear at the thought of making a journal entry.I'm not too sure, but I would'nt mind spending a couple of hours trying to baptize it.Well less said the better.Will write when there's a better urge to.But then just to let you know guys that I'm around if not kicking. So if you check in, nod your heads or wave your hands.Just lemme know you're around.Maybe one of these days, I might just think of barking again.

Cheerio
J

Current Mood: indifferent

8 days since I've rested my hallowed backside into any chat or live discussion forum. Now that surprises me more than it would you, hapless reader, because I mostly reside within virtual confines.But then let my backside take a backseat for a moment and let me ponder deeply on the reasons which kept me a mile and a half away. No it did'nt have to do with the Tsunami, though I've spend enough mental energy on thought surrounding tidal waves and doughty survivors.I'll come back to that in a bit.Small pause will continue in an hour.So hold on I'm not done yet.

Ok there really isn't a way I can chronicle time of absence...but then for the benefit of the reader it's been 2 days since I did that famous last pause.And those were not my famous last words. So back to the thick and thin of the journal minus all the despicable interruptions.

The water level has receded, bodies are back to the shores, so is the debris.And perhaps I don't need to get started on how bad things are in some parts of the world as I speak or write now.Guess every part of the world (and post 9/11 I can count the US of A too in it) has a story to tell about wreckage, destruction and human casualties, and the saga would continue.Tough luck, gotta live with it.Kal Ho Na Ho.Was swimming in Kovalam when the tidal wave broke, pretty much like Nero and his fiddle in Rome.I had 5 other human beings sharing in my Magic Christmas down South.Had to travel back to Bangalore 26th noon time.A shanty little town called Karungappally lying rite in the midst of Kollam and Allepey (which by no means are metropolises) had its own horror story.A government hospital packed with a million odd people, some part of them casualties does'nt make for a pretty sight.19 hours might seem like a long time for a journey between Trivandrum and Bangalore, but then on the 26th it really did seem like eternity.

Rewind a little, the backpackers had a good time with Kumarakom, the half baked journey through Fort Kochi and a li'l bit of Trivandrum.A week out in Kerala can be good, 3 days was beyond good, so that's the sotyr without the frills for the benefit of the reader.The frills have been cut because of a 7 day state mourning.Ok I dont buy that state mourning shit, but I'm sad alright.Current death toll stands at 23k I'm told, could be more.Not the best method of population control.May the souls of the deceased rest in peace. Peace to the families.

Nothing more to contribute. Maybe I should backdate Kolkota, if ver I get to doing it sometime.As for the rest, could'nt really have my atention focussed onto the radio show yesterday.Tsunamis were rocking my brain.Need a break. KIT KAT Time

Cheers
Jay

Current Mood: gloomy

Now comes the time when I tell everybody the story of how my hard earned waffles of wisdom were just snuffed out by a travelling pariah dog.That's as close as I would get to metaphor as possible, but then it does not mask my absolute disdain towards the Electricity Board which chose to blank out the power absolutely rite after I entered the last period in my journal entry.(The save button was on vacation).Absolutely no relevance to the trail of this blog, but then all that reminds me of wanderlust and a hidden source of energy that I managed to unearth during the course of my Eastern Odyssey

But before I get anywhere, please notice that I've decided to employ paragraphing to cover up for disjuncted thinking.That's a nice cover up I say.So now I can actually get to covering my Eastern Safari bit by bit. There was a marriage in Bhubaneswar.Happened to be two of my friends who were tying the knot in a seeming ocean of unbundled joy.I liked the food, so I could'nt notice much that happened. But fact lies that they did get married while I was munching on chicken chops and fish n chips.That was the best part of the day that proved to be quite a killer for the rest of the 10 hours. Nobody died, but family cried and Jack n Jill went rolling down to Odegaon.No i have'nt misspelled Oregon, located to the West of the US of A, but this understated inconsequential hamlet (I'm just making it sound cool)suddenly has more relevance in my life than Oregon or the rest of the United States would ever.

A drive to Odegaon by a big busted and bootylicious Ambassador may not exactly figure in the National Geographic list of 20 best things to do for a getaway. Coincidentally it did'nt figure in mine either.Backbreaking might seem mild, but then a pathological cribber that I am, proabably I'm being cranky. So I thought, till I witnessed people stretching their backs and backsides, instead of peeing in pleasure and delight, everytime the vehicle pulled over. 10 in the night reached Odegaon (by this time I was beginning to quite enjoy the name Odegaon). Celebrities that we fancied ourselves to be, few of us nosedived into the better parts of the house.A couple of disco lights and some shiny shimmery items captured my attention en route. I promise you, I could have directed Rampur ka Disco Dancer at that moment in time.

Odegaon does not have too many people.But it has too many people for one house.But then everybody who was somebody or nobody or even Mad maybe, in Odegaon had to make their presence felt in the bride groom's house.That meant 50 people attacked the time space continuum, defied gravity and took the forms of Leo, Trinity and Morpheus in a couple of rooms on the ground floor.I was basking in luxury in comparison.So the day passed, and so did the rituals and everything else.And the reception too.The disco lights still flashed.Seemed like they were smiling at me or perhaps propositioning me. Not sure. and after all that, the ride back to Bhubaneswar.

A drive from Odegaon to Bhubaneswar by a Matador van has its own elements of fun if there is singing and everything else in the vehicle.Songs are nature's way of distracting you from the not so exciting things that happen in front of you..like screwed up roads. So all that action from a bunch of sweet oldsters did perk up the return.So backs were stretched and throats retched, and Bhubaneswar did arrive after I'd counted minutes, seconds and split seconds.

For the information of the tourist, Bhubaneswar is 120 kms from Odegaon.Ok I don't know how much of help that was, but more importantly it comprises Xavier Institute of Management, REC, a couple of more colleges, a railways station, roads and some houses.A backpacking tourist would take exactly 3 hours and 22 minutes to take a round trip around Bhubaneswar and finish a novel on it. Nice and quiet and peaceful, if you are the kinds who is nice and quiet and peaceful perhaps.Not sure.But once you've completed your 3 hours and 22 minutes, it's time to head for Kolkota.That is, if you insist.I did.

Current Mood: awake

Now's the time when I breathe and leave the rest of the world to do the talking on subjects that have been left uncovered by me in the last 4 hours. And I conclude at this hour that Opinions are the bane of my existence. And that fairness can be restored to the world only after a whole lot of King Sized mothballs are wiped out.From the oil wells of Texas to the Rameshwaram Corridor, the story remains the same.Legalize Genocide I say.Leave prostitution alone for the moment.Lots has been said about it.

If I ever wanted John Kerry back in power, it was only for the sake of a big fat gentleman called Michael Moore. Now make no mistake, I care crap about American politics.Nopes n I would cover my face and burrow a hole bigger than Saddam's and stayed there for eternity, if I had the donkey as my election symbol.But I love Big fat MM (n forthe sake of not sounding funny I won't call him M&M or even EMINEM)for Fahrenheit 9/11.And since I hate Bush and since fat guys cant be presidents and some aspirants are more into hard on's and since I don't care a fuck about anybody else's environment, maybe the man with the Donkey as his placard should've been in. Bah, but who cares, I've got Bihar to worry about for now,n then A.K.Antony and his stained but starched white Dhoti and perhaps the rest of the country, Human Development Index, poverty and more importantly grilled chicken from Empire Hotel that comes these days with an additional coat of disgusting masala.Last but not the least saving myself from panic attacks.

Headed to the east, touchdown Chennai first, (I luv the smell of this place), then to Calcutta, back to Bhubaneswar.How friggin dumb.I cross Bhubaneswar and I'm back again there.I should've never bunked geography classes.And when I'm done with all the hours of backbreaking village safari and with a marriage party that might just put the Mittals to shame and then with all my cribs, I might just wake up to the reality that I am a prized MORON. Now don't even ask me why, just nod ya heads. Yeh that way..more like it.Thank You.Like Calvin, my comic pal says "IT's REALITY THAT'S RUINED MY LIFE"

7 days is a long time to stay away from civilization.And if somebody just kids you into beleiving that a trip to Orissa is a getaway, just be nice and don't beleive a word of it.If you want to be nasty, punch his face and kick his ass and mutilate him beyond recognition.I might just seem a tad too worked up for adding 9 hours to my itinery, but then that's good enough reason to be mighty pissed off I'd say.

At the end of it all, as they say, all's well that ends well.Ok crap, it's not started, so it can't have possibly ended.But then maybe I might just be pleasantly surprised and do an absolute volte face on my next journal entry. N I mite just come back wearing an 'I love Orissa' Ganji with matching Chaddis. Considering that the next time, I make my special appearance to these pages would be a week from now, gives you enough time to bite your nails clean in anticipation and suspense. I'm prone to bouts of melodrama, so ignore this if you may.

Currently occupied with a nice voice over ready reckoner by some Bernard Blah Blah. Pretty good, though it seems lifted from all over, much as the author would love to beleive that he invented voice. Not a bad rip off job.

All my last words for the next one week would be condensed in the next line.Or maybe I'll just not bother.

Catch ya in another week with some juice
Jay

Current Mood: cynical

The Pilgrims killed a turkey and that's what's spread up for your Thanksgiving meal.Wish they'd Killed a Cat Instead.You know what I would've been having every thanksgiving.hmmm..Don't get catty now, because I won't.I'm just referring to feline meat and the external skin.No beauty is not skin deep in this case.Vegetarians and Blue Cross, here's your opportunity to take a pound of my flesh and refrigerate for personal vindictive reasons.Of course you could give that same garb of future research.

What's it about Thanksgiving and my mind traversing through forbidden terrain.Somebody define forbidden for me.Like the fruit.A practicing Christian as I maybe, I really don't think doctors got to be kept out of Business by a proverbial fruit.Newton might just second that.

So my journal contains nothing really personal about the story of my life as chronicled during these few hours of my existence.One of my friends asked me why it does not get any more specific than it does.My answer was that, if it had to get any more specific I might just think of publishing it and not leave it hanging on virtual confines, like what it is.Doodling is an art, finger doodling with a keypad is a poor man's art and since I'm poor and do not like to think much, it works well for me.So be it for my extremely laboured efforts at rationalization.

Got some Doors on my Windows.haan N I would luv to think that's the most creative line in the history of journal writing.Ok cutting all the BS in between, the point is that I loaded one of the more popular collection of the Lizard King onto my comp.Listening to music out of a computer, lolz, mostly it appears to me that it's the computer that sings.Really need to get used to those things.

But as for now, ther's nothing more that I can think of than take my fingers of these keypads, my eyes off the screen and hit the hallowed sack. Abrupt as it may seem, it makes tons of sense when you're just feeling sick of the ramble.

Soon
J

Current Mood: groggy

One thing about hunches. If they dont work, you deliberately try to make them work, so that you feel psychic at the end of it all.That's where I start today.Robin Peterson is a reatively insignificant name on the cricket field, but he managed catch my attention for the most inconsequential reason.Bowling down the leg side and grinning broadly when cautioned by the umpire.I found the situation funny, for what reason, I am yet to figure out completely.I warned you, it was inconsequential.It's another morning now, and I guess I gotta get used to writing up a journal in the morning hours.How very uninteresting.That's how I got started on hunches.

On my radio show yesterday, I spoke about roadrage which I think is quite as interesting as the story of a mosquito flying through the Pacific.Having said that, responses on the call in were interesting enough.But the cake was taken by a message I received from a new formed acquaintance, asking me if I was just pompous or narcissistic and pompous.I'd love to put that to vote.

Paragraphing isn't one of my strengths and the ramblers of the world would join me in my crib.But then I'm an honest to goodness trier as would be reflected here.Bangalore theatre's got a theatre film festival.Would be interesting.The morning scribble ends right here.Would try to add some flavour in the evening.Sehwag's blazing all guns here.No hunches for the next week.

Jay

Current Mood: awake

Namaskaara,

That's the regional flavour of a greeting.Or perhaps that is THE Greeting.Maybe if I tended to say any other, I may just be banished, excommunicated, tortured, guillotined and pieces of my flesh served to vegetarian birds.So I'd say Namaskaara.The ethnic flavour was never more frightening.Lol..now I wanna smirk, cos I'm sinking under the weight of my sarcasm..Namma Ooru Bangalooru...Yippee Yay..I managed it..I know what I'm gonna do next to celebrate my moment of triumph..I'm goin to walk with the Big Man..Daktar Rajkumar with his ilk of humungously exciting sycophants for company...Don't really get me wrong, but I did find justification for Veerappan's existence at various stages.So now I really am in an all out attempt to extend my whiskers to the point of being scary.

Mughal E Azm got sneaked through without, as much as a rub on its forearm..Sensitivity to the old and dead should never be confused with aesthetic appreciation.But whoever wants to take a stand on issues.All things that happen are meant to happen that way, only cos it helps me ramble on my journal and then on radio.So you could be firmly convinced that, in the beginning was the LiveJournal of Stagthedog. Then came everything else, including 101.3 FM Rainbow and the radio jockey.n then animals n birds n all..the works..

For now, I'd better get to doing what I''m best at..which is Nothing.Incidentally this is the first entry that goes in post sunset.And while I'm in no mood to apologize for the longish delay in filling up my pages (which is assuming the whole world has really been wating for it with bated breath), I just have this strange feeling that I might have a couple of sweet n sour nothings to fill in the next couple of days.

Cheerio
J

Current Mood: awake

Hi,

I have very strong opinions on tht 2 letter word that U put rite up before you write anything or say anything or do anything.How much more power can a 2 letter word have.Which just goes on to prove that small is still beautiful.But why even bother. N since I'm done with my lecture on 2 letter words and all the other inhabitants of its universe, I'd think of something more unimportant to fill the space.Like the story of my absence from This Glorified Pages of My Life.Hic Hic.No there simply isn't a story, which proabably might just bring to light how inconsequential things around me have been.Or mebbe I'm just chosing to be deliberately secretive.Grrr is someone there getting curious.I guess not, someone's gotta be me, cos I seem to be the most avid, if not the only reader of these glorified pages.
So much for Blah Blah and his Brother Blah.A rocking chair might help at this hour.

Ahh just in case you're itching to know, I run a late night establisment. Isn't that phenomenally interesting...hmmm I'll leave it right there..Just manage to catch wind of a bunch of whites in Bangalore.The city could do with more.Nothing really to do with my racial or sexual preferences.Not the former at least.Be sure.No more questions on that.And when my overworked and underpaid brain ceases to give me any more concessions at this hour, all I can do is settle for a burp.Gases really have no place in the human body I say.Or maybe they do.How else does man eject them.I hope I'm not getting philosophical but then when trapped gases are released out into thin air, all the garb goes with it too.Food for thought.No pun intended.There's enough wind outside, for me to think about, without dwelling into the aesthetic sensibilities of wind in the human body.Reminds me of Wind In His Hair, the Indian Cheif from Dances with the Wolves.
In his hair....how I wonder..But that's it for the day.Guarantees on discounts on the gas from tomorrow.The ramble would continue
Cheerio'
J

J

Current Mood: apathetic

Day 2 seems to be pretty much un earth shattering yet..There's still the hour before the clock strikes 12 and another before the Orwellian hour of 13 gongs.Now I'm not thinking that hard in the present tense.There's nothing too tense about the present in my life as we speak, and not much of thinking left in me too.That makes life a little easier than it is in a general sense.When I left you off with all my peace yesterday, little did I know how prophetic my words would turn out to be.Well ..at least the WTC did'nt collapse again under the weight of any anti American force and Bihar still remains cow friendly.And Shah Rukh Khan shook and shivered his way through another year in his life.My Happiness art boundless.N it goes double for The bloke who goes with a name Anu Malik.You guessed rite, his name incidentally is inspired and borrowed too.I'm happy for the two of them.1 year less of life for either.Did the Bride of the Prejudice just turn older.Whats it with November and birthdays.More coming up in the week.Stay posted while I fill You In.

The tune of Uninvited by Alanis, so beautifully rerendered by Michelle Peters rings in my ears for no apparent reason. Well at least it jus gave me a good enough opportunity to talk wee li'l about my nice n sweet n long li'l play.Love Letters was the name of the play that had 100 people of Bangalore talking about on Saturday.Now how does that work wonders for my ego??? Hey I acted in it..wanted to play a Marlon Brando out of Apocalypse Now, but then the play was called Love Letters.No resemblance whatsoever.Today is another day, I am told.Yes today is Tuesday and Saturday was Saturday.So the couch still remains my favorite place on earth, since it has been dutifully returned by Puja Goyal, the producer of the play.As I said some things are just static forms of change.Like Couch potatos will always be couch potatos.My life will look good to me and suck to the rest of the world.I told you my words have been prophetic.Peace and Love and don't expect it for tomorrow.Gotta hunch something's bound to happen.

Till then
Fried Eggs and potatos on the couch.

Happy reclining
Jay

Current Mood: complacent

Greetings aboard An attempt at getting some random thoughts chronicled around the 4 walls of cyberspace begins right here.So then if the worldwideweb has personal spaces, I'd make one of these my own.Not one for consensus, I prefer opinions to have an impulsive and almost childlike flavour.So be it with mine.All mine.Ahhn, I like the scent of cyberspace.Especially because it smells like nothing that I know of or will ever know.So to all else who have build a nest or a home or whatever other forms of personal address somewhere around, there's one more in your neighbourhood. Unwittingly or with an extra dash of wit or WITH, a warrrrm welllccom to meee. Not sure if I'm here to stay, but I guess it'd be more than a fleeting glance of the author you'd get in the subsequent days.So brace yourself if you would. The conversation has a few more pieces to it than you or me or the rest of us who qualify as Others. For the moment, the introduction would be equal to conclusion.Crap the body text. Communication thrives in the absence of law making bodies. Better looking bodies can take refuge right here, while I stagnate or pump some extra droplets of adrenalin.All for a good cause.But keeping all that aside, the only 4 letter word that's keeping my energy levels up is called BURP.The best part is that I can extend BURP to BURRP or even better BURRPP. God is generous, has always been.Which is why I'm more of a religiost than a rationalist.Yawwwn Rationale, what's the purpose.My day ends right here.And what a sexy note that is.Goodbye to rationalism.Welcome to unadulterated hogwash.Washed, dried and cleaned.More of it, as I pass. Bless You. Jay

Current Mood: blah