The metal is on and we are ready for our journey through time. Women should keep shut when men talk. How fundamental is that truth? Or is that simply a mark of respect? Even men should keep quiet when men talk. Other men that is. One should not interrupt, one should allow people to dig themselves into holes. Or dig themselves out.
Black Sabbath wrote Iron Man not to talk about some Superhero. That was probably only a manifestation of an illusion born in Robert Downey Jrs leather stoned mind. Iron Man is a subtle song about a man about which the only iron part was his mind. He was sad and he had his regrets for the way he treated people. He chased them away and they ran away as fast as they could; and in those glorious moments of furious retribution against those who meant him no harm, indeed, they may even have only felt love for him, he lived.
When men talk sometimes solo's rip through the air. These solos will have to then be listened to. For they are the essense of the conversation, the zeniths of passion provoked by the subjects under discussion. A true solo will command respect. A true solo will demand to be heard. A good solo will rip like lightning over a storm covered open field, it will strike down upon the tree of intellect and ignite it. Setting it on fire.
Can you hear your babies crying now? We have burnt bridges to get here. They lie as fragments of wood over vast chasms that cannot be recrossed. Some things in life will have to be left behind. Some things in life will never be the same again. Those bits of yourself left behind across deep chasms will never be reached again. You are minus what you were. And plus what you discovered here.
You have steeled yourself. And in the process you have exposed new areas of which you are unaware of, ready to be pierced by the spears of inadvertant opponents. You are walking steeled, steeled against the enemity that your exposure invites. And you are fighting a compulsion to hide.
You are riding a bicycle downhill.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Blood and Dust, 3: Omdulgence
Continued from here
Welikala stretched luxuriously. The langur had been and gone in the night and his room was spotless. The golden light was shining in and was forming a mottled pattern on the Persian rug. The Cori was steaming in a mug on the bedside table. He took a sip.
Immediately the world went white, the flash of brilliance took him by surprise; it had been a couple of days since he'd had this particular blend, the Molten Universes of Om opened up before him and he was confronted with his choices. He briefly considered his options; the Vertu Palace would be interesting if Padmini and the girls were there. Although Padmini was beginning to bore him now, she was a bit too slutty. The Blistkreig was always great when you had a surge of blood lust to expend, but he needed something a bit more relaxing this morning, but nothing too quiet. He opted for the Blooming Landscapes.
He concentrated on the Gate to bring it closer, his mind sharpened by the influence of the Cori. Subconsciously, he took another long draft of the stuff. He wanted this hit to be a long one. Long and satisfying. He sighed in contentment as the blubbery gate resisted and then gave way beneath his advancing mind.
***
Back in his room in the 'real world', it must be noted here that the definition between real and virtual had blurred to a great extent due to recent developments, Glimmerang crept out from underneath Welikala's bed silently. He stretched, cautiously. Bribing that langur had paid off. 'Bribing a langur!' he grinned ruefully, 'if anyone had told me i'd be bribing langurs three years ago i'd have told my mom they were crazy!' at this he turned nostalgic and his eyes watered despite himself. Memories of his mother always brought about this affect.
He shook himself and set his jaw. He was thirteen now. And the only person old enough or close enough to undo the torment and evil that Welikala had unleashed upon the world. He must not falter now. Somehow, by any means possible, he must figure out a way to kill Welikala and absorb his powers, and use them to undo the spell that world had been cast beneath.
He was aware that simply killing him might make matters worse for everyone concerned; he must figure out how to take his powers first. Coming to his room to do this while he was fired out was something he'd thought of instinctively; Glimmering was a simple boy. And he'd felt that deep down, he had to see his opponent's face before he could figure out what to do. He slowly approached Welikala's prone form.
Welikala, in the meanwhile, had become aware of a presense in his er, presence. He always took care not to lose contact with the world of his physical body completely when he was firing up anywhere except in his Safe House. He slowly removed himself from the rowan haired, violet eyed forest nymph he'd been occupied with and gently extricated himself from the Omverse back underneath his closed eyelids. He waited.
Glimmerang was now standing next to the bed. He looked down at his opponent. An opponent who didn't even know his name. Indeed, Welikala, as far as he was aware, didnt even know of Glimmerang's existence. This realization brought upon a strange feeling of power and detachment, and he began to smile. Suddenly his eyes bulged out of their sockets for a brief moment and he dropped backwards to the floor, dead.
Welikala grunted in disgust and put away the beamer back under the sheets. 'Amateurs' he mutterred, he took another sip of the Cori and made ready to take up from where he'd left off. He hadn't survived to the grand old age of sixteen just by playing with barbie dolls.
Welikala stretched luxuriously. The langur had been and gone in the night and his room was spotless. The golden light was shining in and was forming a mottled pattern on the Persian rug. The Cori was steaming in a mug on the bedside table. He took a sip.
Immediately the world went white, the flash of brilliance took him by surprise; it had been a couple of days since he'd had this particular blend, the Molten Universes of Om opened up before him and he was confronted with his choices. He briefly considered his options; the Vertu Palace would be interesting if Padmini and the girls were there. Although Padmini was beginning to bore him now, she was a bit too slutty. The Blistkreig was always great when you had a surge of blood lust to expend, but he needed something a bit more relaxing this morning, but nothing too quiet. He opted for the Blooming Landscapes.
He concentrated on the Gate to bring it closer, his mind sharpened by the influence of the Cori. Subconsciously, he took another long draft of the stuff. He wanted this hit to be a long one. Long and satisfying. He sighed in contentment as the blubbery gate resisted and then gave way beneath his advancing mind.
***
Back in his room in the 'real world', it must be noted here that the definition between real and virtual had blurred to a great extent due to recent developments, Glimmerang crept out from underneath Welikala's bed silently. He stretched, cautiously. Bribing that langur had paid off. 'Bribing a langur!' he grinned ruefully, 'if anyone had told me i'd be bribing langurs three years ago i'd have told my mom they were crazy!' at this he turned nostalgic and his eyes watered despite himself. Memories of his mother always brought about this affect.
He shook himself and set his jaw. He was thirteen now. And the only person old enough or close enough to undo the torment and evil that Welikala had unleashed upon the world. He must not falter now. Somehow, by any means possible, he must figure out a way to kill Welikala and absorb his powers, and use them to undo the spell that world had been cast beneath.
He was aware that simply killing him might make matters worse for everyone concerned; he must figure out how to take his powers first. Coming to his room to do this while he was fired out was something he'd thought of instinctively; Glimmering was a simple boy. And he'd felt that deep down, he had to see his opponent's face before he could figure out what to do. He slowly approached Welikala's prone form.
Welikala, in the meanwhile, had become aware of a presense in his er, presence. He always took care not to lose contact with the world of his physical body completely when he was firing up anywhere except in his Safe House. He slowly removed himself from the rowan haired, violet eyed forest nymph he'd been occupied with and gently extricated himself from the Omverse back underneath his closed eyelids. He waited.
Glimmerang was now standing next to the bed. He looked down at his opponent. An opponent who didn't even know his name. Indeed, Welikala, as far as he was aware, didnt even know of Glimmerang's existence. This realization brought upon a strange feeling of power and detachment, and he began to smile. Suddenly his eyes bulged out of their sockets for a brief moment and he dropped backwards to the floor, dead.
Welikala grunted in disgust and put away the beamer back under the sheets. 'Amateurs' he mutterred, he took another sip of the Cori and made ready to take up from where he'd left off. He hadn't survived to the grand old age of sixteen just by playing with barbie dolls.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Chapter One: Blood and Dust
Jamiraquai looked up. The playground was empty. there were empty chocolate wrappers being blown around in the dusty noontime air. The wind made slightly howling noises and everything was so still and poised that the very air spoke of impending violent movement.
Now was the time when Nercoprofanity would make his move. Jamiraquai tucked his lollipop into its holder, he pulled out his six gun and waited. Suddenly he saw a flash of movement to his left.
He turned, but there was no one there. Then he thought he heard a rustling behind him. But this time he didn't turn, he'd managed to come to his senses. ' Always remember to wait for the music' he told himself, repeating a lesson he'd learned many years ago. So he waited, body tense.
Suddenly there was a keening noise. And the strains of a violin played in a very screeching note penetrated the air. Jamiroquai frowned, he hated the drawn out stealthy suspense, he'd much rathar have heard the deep drum and bass of sudden confrontation.
He knew that Necroprofanity would be sneaking up like a snake in the dust now. The keening pitched higher, his enemy was closer. He reached for his belt knife but too late! the dust at his feet flew into the air blinding him and causing him to riase his arm to protect his face. Knife in hand, he staggered back.
Something then struck him in the stomach. his breath rushed out of him and he crashed into the dust. And Necroprofanity proceeded to claw the flesh of his stomach with his sharp beak while he pinned his arms to the ground. It all happaned in the space of a second.
Jamiroquai screamed like he was in the middle of a Slipknot track. Then he screamed like he was in the throes of the end of an Aerosmith song. He could feel the beak ripping through his flesh and into his guts. He could feel this vile manifestation of evil tear his bowels out in a feral rage.
He ripped his left arm free. And he plunged the dagger into the shadowy black shape eating into him.
To be continued....
Anyone want to?
Now was the time when Nercoprofanity would make his move. Jamiraquai tucked his lollipop into its holder, he pulled out his six gun and waited. Suddenly he saw a flash of movement to his left.
He turned, but there was no one there. Then he thought he heard a rustling behind him. But this time he didn't turn, he'd managed to come to his senses. ' Always remember to wait for the music' he told himself, repeating a lesson he'd learned many years ago. So he waited, body tense.
Suddenly there was a keening noise. And the strains of a violin played in a very screeching note penetrated the air. Jamiroquai frowned, he hated the drawn out stealthy suspense, he'd much rathar have heard the deep drum and bass of sudden confrontation.
He knew that Necroprofanity would be sneaking up like a snake in the dust now. The keening pitched higher, his enemy was closer. He reached for his belt knife but too late! the dust at his feet flew into the air blinding him and causing him to riase his arm to protect his face. Knife in hand, he staggered back.
Something then struck him in the stomach. his breath rushed out of him and he crashed into the dust. And Necroprofanity proceeded to claw the flesh of his stomach with his sharp beak while he pinned his arms to the ground. It all happaned in the space of a second.
Jamiroquai screamed like he was in the middle of a Slipknot track. Then he screamed like he was in the throes of the end of an Aerosmith song. He could feel the beak ripping through his flesh and into his guts. He could feel this vile manifestation of evil tear his bowels out in a feral rage.
He ripped his left arm free. And he plunged the dagger into the shadowy black shape eating into him.
To be continued....
Anyone want to?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
what a strange long trip its been
Retrospective introspection. When i look back things seem strangely empty. So much more i could've done. So much more adventure to have had. I look back and wish i'd joined the army, wish i'd become a deep sea diver anything but this. Anything but to be stuck behind a desk.
All pipe dreams in pipe seams. lost in a metal atom's electron surge. Quantum physics pulls me in the diretion of the normal. Responsibility, safety, obligation, duty, they exist even though we may think it cool to diss them, these inherent characteristics of life. But one has duty on cannot escape from; and 'duty is as heavy as a mountain, death as light as a feather' as Robert Jordan would say.
But there is no need to be depressed. Inside me there is this surging torrent of unrest, some trapped energy that wont stop churing that keeps me going. Energy is everything, hope is nothing without energy, dreams are nothing without energy, plans are nothing, nothing exists without energy.
All pipe dreams in pipe seams. lost in a metal atom's electron surge. Quantum physics pulls me in the diretion of the normal. Responsibility, safety, obligation, duty, they exist even though we may think it cool to diss them, these inherent characteristics of life. But one has duty on cannot escape from; and 'duty is as heavy as a mountain, death as light as a feather' as Robert Jordan would say.
But there is no need to be depressed. Inside me there is this surging torrent of unrest, some trapped energy that wont stop churing that keeps me going. Energy is everything, hope is nothing without energy, dreams are nothing without energy, plans are nothing, nothing exists without energy.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Beat
Amid the brouhaha and the pain there comes a realisation that once, i too was a man. Once i too felt a woman between my hips, once i too felt blood trickle from cuts in my flesh. once i too fought; for ideals now become nought. Once i too remembered the loss of losing a loved one, all too well.
Once i did swell, with pride and my head full of achievement did tell; a tale of a proud man, right before he fell. once i too gave in to all desire, good and bad. Once i too was corrupt. Oh what a life I’ve had!
But now my gums have rotted and my speech once so golden reeks of death. Now my limbs fail me and my sense barely avail me. Now i too will pass like the loved ones i have lost and i find myself thinking of my legacy. Of the will that is but ink on paper, so empty. So lost. Now death greets me grinning. I never knew he exsited! But I lie. I knew in my heart of hearts, that he would find me, in the end he did.
now the guns have faded, there is no one to fight my last fight for me. And i, an old man, will not know the truth of life and its meaning, even though ive completed its fullest, most gruelling training. i will be let free to gallop the last paths of an ending but then what? will i even know?
but deep down once again, from that place which is in every man, comes a drumbeat of truth. It nags you so much and soon you resort to simply ignoring it. I too drowned it out with sound, sound from anything and everything my hands found; but now my hands have given up on me. and my ears lie listless; i cannot control what they listen to.
But that beat has now faded. the truth that i never knew has never become jaded, because it has escaped me. And such truth as was in the world that i sought, only turned out to be lies in the end.
Friday, August 21, 2009
JERK? A beyond Borders Forum Theater performance
BB is doing a Forum theater performance on the 29th of August
FT is an audience interactive mode of theater that lets the people watching stop, modify and redirect the story. It is loads of fun. And if you are the sadistic kind who likes to see actors suffer while they try to bring to life scenarios that are inside your head then this is right up your dark, dimly lit alley. Although in some cases you may be asked to come up on stage to perform a certain critical role yourself.
FT is great when it comes to dissecting complex social issues because of the myriad opinions involved. As such, a proactive, intelligent and participative audience is usually a key element.
JERK? focuses on ADHD, often a misunderstood condition in Sri Lanka. In fact, it is hardy known. Barely a thought is usually given to how sufferers cope up in a society that doesn't even recognize what they are suffering from. To illustrate, JERK? takes you through the rollercoaster ride of Rajeev; disturbed, distracted, a teenage rebel cum mathematical genius. The issues will be discussed as the story develops, through the various twists and turns of the plot.
It is for invitees only, so if you'd like to come please leave a comment, drop a mail, or even better text or call one of these numbers; 0777 335 320, 0777 491 718. Invites are limited, so you may want to make a little ha(-y while the sunshines)ste.
Views, reviews etc of previous Beyond Borders Forum theater can be found here
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A SERIES OF TWEETS
I sometimes tweet a poem or two when im in the mood. The verses flow out one by one as i walk down the street or sit in a bus or before i sleep. Here are two recent ones.
THE SWEETNESS
The only complaint men have when they are free is that there is nothing to tie them down;
So into the realm of vice he frowned looking for reasons to stay on the ground.
Into the eyes of gollum; green bubbling fear and angry intent; so solemn,
On to the back of a renegade beast he leapt; to feast upon madness too morbid to mention.
Off down his street looking for danger; to the corner shop to buy him a Benson.
'Its just u and me my little white friend, i'll burn with you until you see the end,
Then i will stamp you upon the ground; my face no longer darkened with a frown,
and go home.'; the sweetness of friendship lies in its parting...
AT SLUMBER'S DOOR
Waiting for the last queen to fall,
Waiting for that siren call;
That tells the end of battle
Waiting for the rush to ebb away,
Waiting for the calmness to take away,
The seething musth inside;
Denying me paradise
Oh fair temptress please deny me,
Please turn away my silent plea,
For heartbreak is a trifle;
To the pain of possessing thee
We are but figures in a big paradigm,
We are but diggers in a grave of time,
We are certainly not complete;
But we loath to become free
We are paupers, ourselves, on mountains of gold,
We are but beggars but we have no bowl,
We expect the impossible;
And delude ourselves..
Now as my mind takes yet another leap,
And silence calls me to the solitude of sleep,
My escape route is here;
Slumber makes things clear
But before i go let me silently weep,
For a great love lost; beauty i won't get to keep,
But some things are bigger;
And beauty sometimes is a perilous trigger
THE SWEETNESS
The only complaint men have when they are free is that there is nothing to tie them down;
So into the realm of vice he frowned looking for reasons to stay on the ground.
Into the eyes of gollum; green bubbling fear and angry intent; so solemn,
On to the back of a renegade beast he leapt; to feast upon madness too morbid to mention.
Off down his street looking for danger; to the corner shop to buy him a Benson.
'Its just u and me my little white friend, i'll burn with you until you see the end,
Then i will stamp you upon the ground; my face no longer darkened with a frown,
and go home.'; the sweetness of friendship lies in its parting...
AT SLUMBER'S DOOR
Waiting for the last queen to fall,
Waiting for that siren call;
That tells the end of battle
Waiting for the rush to ebb away,
Waiting for the calmness to take away,
The seething musth inside;
Denying me paradise
Oh fair temptress please deny me,
Please turn away my silent plea,
For heartbreak is a trifle;
To the pain of possessing thee
We are but figures in a big paradigm,
We are but diggers in a grave of time,
We are certainly not complete;
But we loath to become free
We are paupers, ourselves, on mountains of gold,
We are but beggars but we have no bowl,
We expect the impossible;
And delude ourselves..
Now as my mind takes yet another leap,
And silence calls me to the solitude of sleep,
My escape route is here;
Slumber makes things clear
But before i go let me silently weep,
For a great love lost; beauty i won't get to keep,
But some things are bigger;
And beauty sometimes is a perilous trigger
Friday, August 14, 2009
11 of the Worst Pickup Lines Ever Heard
Adding credibility to my claim to being the blogospheres pick-up line expert, and blindly stealing off the internet (its got a lot of information you should check it out) i bring to you;
1. Insulting Libraries Everywhere
"Do you have a library card? Because I'm checking you out."
2. The Ticking Clock Ultimatum
"I'll give you five seconds to give me your number or you can forget about going out with me forever."
3. The Self-Congratulatory Approach
"I'm a hot commodity. You're a hot commodity. We should go out."
4. The Old "Space Pants" Line …
"Are you wearing space pants? Because your rear is out of this world."
5. Random Anatomical Reference
"You have nice child-bearing hips."
7. Extra Cheese, Please
"Was your dad a robber? Because he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."
8. P.U. or I.O.U.?
"You owe me money."
"Why?"
"You've been living in my heart and you haven't paid rent."
9. Misplaced Ardor
"Your mom is hot! I bet you will look just like her when you are older."
10. Hair-Raising Comments
"How long did it take to shave those looong legs?"
11. Schooled in Geography
"Are you from Tennessee?"
"No."
"Are you sure? 'Cause you're the only 10 I see."
Yes, i have sadly been reduced to copy pasting off the internet. But what works for Rehani should techinically work for me. And here's how i boost my search engine stats; sex! anal! anarkali!
11 of the Worst Pickup Lines Ever Heard
1. Insulting Libraries Everywhere
"Do you have a library card? Because I'm checking you out."
2. The Ticking Clock Ultimatum
"I'll give you five seconds to give me your number or you can forget about going out with me forever."
3. The Self-Congratulatory Approach
"I'm a hot commodity. You're a hot commodity. We should go out."
4. The Old "Space Pants" Line …
"Are you wearing space pants? Because your rear is out of this world."
5. Random Anatomical Reference
"You have nice child-bearing hips."
7. Extra Cheese, Please
"Was your dad a robber? Because he stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."
8. P.U. or I.O.U.?
"You owe me money."
"Why?"
"You've been living in my heart and you haven't paid rent."
9. Misplaced Ardor
"Your mom is hot! I bet you will look just like her when you are older."
10. Hair-Raising Comments
"How long did it take to shave those looong legs?"
11. Schooled in Geography
"Are you from Tennessee?"
"No."
"Are you sure? 'Cause you're the only 10 I see."
Yes, i have sadly been reduced to copy pasting off the internet. But what works for Rehani should techinically work for me. And here's how i boost my search engine stats; sex! anal! anarkali!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Adventures of Super Bottle
The bottle screamed
No Don't stopper me!!
i'll be a good bottle i swear
but they threw him in the sea
The man dreamed
oh i need some release
2 years stuck on this island
I AM DYING TO BE FREE
But in death he will be free
If he did in his life an appropriate good
but at this juncture thats not quite what he meant
I'm sure that can be understood
Release is release enough
when a man is confronted by a demon at dusk
he popped out a bottle and provided him
With three outlets to his lust
I will have whatever it takes
for a man to be ultimately free
i need to apply the disk brakes
to this life's endless misery
Well the demon he thought
(for he was kind about his head
and was good and wise...)
and at long last he said;
What you seek is written
from the very day you were born
what you seek is a promise
a promise you already own
What you seek will come to you
eventually; in dusk or morn
and what you reap will rely on
the oaths that you have sworn
If this life is misery
then hope you have not left
its contentment you need to be finally free
for what you seek is death.
And with that the demon puffed into air
and an empty bottle stood
the man, for a while, looked everywhere
then went on with life the best he could.
Still, he should have asked for sandwiches before getting all philosophical.
No Don't stopper me!!
i'll be a good bottle i swear
but they threw him in the sea
The man dreamed
oh i need some release
2 years stuck on this island
I AM DYING TO BE FREE
But in death he will be free
If he did in his life an appropriate good
but at this juncture thats not quite what he meant
I'm sure that can be understood
Release is release enough
when a man is confronted by a demon at dusk
he popped out a bottle and provided him
With three outlets to his lust
I will have whatever it takes
for a man to be ultimately free
i need to apply the disk brakes
to this life's endless misery
Well the demon he thought
(for he was kind about his head
and was good and wise...)
and at long last he said;
What you seek is written
from the very day you were born
what you seek is a promise
a promise you already own
What you seek will come to you
eventually; in dusk or morn
and what you reap will rely on
the oaths that you have sworn
If this life is misery
then hope you have not left
its contentment you need to be finally free
for what you seek is death.
And with that the demon puffed into air
and an empty bottle stood
the man, for a while, looked everywhere
then went on with life the best he could.
Still, he should have asked for sandwiches before getting all philosophical.
TWORDLE
That’s my wordle. Apparently i say 'man' and 'ur' and 'good' and 'time’ a lot.
'Man ur in deep shit so you better come up with a good one on time'
women is a word iv never used there. You know why? Cos women are the ones who hunt your balls by night.
now occasionally, I harbor fears of being reduced to a stuttering mass of man blubber again so I’m strongly averse to relationships
but that don't mean that they don't make me fall oh no.
But enough about the depressing stuff.
I am constantly surprised by the amount of people willing to call up public radio and practically worship the leader of this country
It scares the shit out of me that there can be such fanatics in a country. They are blind to the fact that everything has negatives.
And some things more than others.
It strikes me as absurd that people harp about 'defeating the LTTE' when their international funding network is still wholly intact.
The blind truth is truly blind to the truth
I find it absurd that we still have a media in this country that has the audacity to call itself the media.
A racehorse crippled doesn’t serve anyone’s purpose.
The half caste media we have serves only to delude the public into false senses of security, into complacency.
Where are the investigations?
How can the truth be the truth when you decide which truth to make public?
I find it absurd.
Democracy died a long time ago
It surprises the shit out of me every time i realize that a lot of people choose to ignore this fact.
Friday, August 7, 2009
In the future
In the future kids will be traumatized by illegal chartrooms. don’t chat with anyone you don’t know! will be the most common advice given to kids by their parents.
Sleeping pills will have massive demand and people will rely on them to get some rest after staying up bleary eyed in front of PCs chatting idly away.
Zombies will be commonplace as people wave their hands about in front of their face in a 'touch screen delusion' where they try to move the real world around like they move objects around on a pc.
A few generations later...
Aliens will land on earth and find an empty planet. All the people will be in sealed compartments that they will be put into as soon as they are old enough to leave the family pod. Which is a temporary social institution formed to honor a genetic obligation.
Goods will be transported via holographic molecular displacement. Atomization will require only commands from individuals in pods who will operate Earth’s complex infrastructure.
The more progressive thinkers would have already outsourced their thoughts and brains to twitter.
Sexual stimulation will exclusively happen through the art of cyberdildonomics.
The aliens will destroy the planet, thinking it’s empty, to make way for an intergallactic superhighway and yes they will be known as Vulcans, if you like.
Sleeping pills will have massive demand and people will rely on them to get some rest after staying up bleary eyed in front of PCs chatting idly away.
Zombies will be commonplace as people wave their hands about in front of their face in a 'touch screen delusion' where they try to move the real world around like they move objects around on a pc.
A few generations later...
Aliens will land on earth and find an empty planet. All the people will be in sealed compartments that they will be put into as soon as they are old enough to leave the family pod. Which is a temporary social institution formed to honor a genetic obligation.
Goods will be transported via holographic molecular displacement. Atomization will require only commands from individuals in pods who will operate Earth’s complex infrastructure.
The more progressive thinkers would have already outsourced their thoughts and brains to twitter.
Sexual stimulation will exclusively happen through the art of cyberdildonomics.
The aliens will destroy the planet, thinking it’s empty, to make way for an intergallactic superhighway and yes they will be known as Vulcans, if you like.
When Twitter is down
- the @ reply seems like a stupid concept.
- good luck getting the cat to laugh at your dick jokes.
- your followers forget you ever existed.
- the last breath caresses the muse's lips as she falls slowly to the marble floor, and a thousand doves fly skyward in panic that soon turns to sorrow. o, the day art died!
- something is technically fucked up.
- the world is a sad and lonely place.
- pass it around; 98 twitters of beer on the wall.
- a single-serving site seems like a good idea.
- grab the shortest guy you can find and pummel him.
- three of these on a loop will entertain you for hours.
- clouds robot sperm bird.
- use your words to share your feelings.
- your droll observation on testicles will lose most of its social relevance.
- it's probably because you used it wrong.
http://whentwitterisdown.com/
- good luck getting the cat to laugh at your dick jokes.
- your followers forget you ever existed.
- the last breath caresses the muse's lips as she falls slowly to the marble floor, and a thousand doves fly skyward in panic that soon turns to sorrow. o, the day art died!
- something is technically fucked up.
- the world is a sad and lonely place.
- pass it around; 98 twitters of beer on the wall.
- a single-serving site seems like a good idea.
- grab the shortest guy you can find and pummel him.
- three of these on a loop will entertain you for hours.
- clouds robot sperm bird.
- use your words to share your feelings.
- your droll observation on testicles will lose most of its social relevance.
- it's probably because you used it wrong.
http://whentwitterisdown.com/
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Yesterday..
Wasn't half as dramatic as Fallen and Jarry made it out to be.
Me, Unsilent and Fallen agreed to meet at 4.45 a.m and then head over to Fort. Unsilent, having only slept an hour after a night of insane partying, arrived there exactly on time. I am shamed to say i was five minutes late. But fallen, having slept peacefully like a baby no doubt, ambled along about 20 minutes later, becoming the chief reason that Jerry spent a lonely few minutes in line for the tickets carrying our sandwiches.
Kandy
After a brief moment of panic at the railway station when papareboy started screaming 'wheres my ticket, wheres my ticket' before putting his hand into his pocket and finding it, the first thing we saw when entering Kandy was thousands upon thousands of people sitting on the pavements. eating bumbai mutai. which of course made fallen immediately purchase some for himself, and we all gorged on it while wearing sunglasses and talking in foreign accents.
Gehan came over smartly dressed and wearing shoes. We felt honored of course. and slightly ashamed that we'd come all this distance in just shorts and rubbers. I also took the opportunity to clarify a certain trait of Kandy society that Realskull and me had heard about, but i'll leave that lengthy and productive discussion to a post on my sociology blog.
We went to buy peanuts. 20 peanut shells cost twenty rupees in kandy. they like things all lined up. Apparently they do it to help them deal with numbers more efficiently in the cold weather. Which was probably what had effected me during that unfortunate brawl with the vadey seller that left him and me ultimately arguing about algorithms so complex that everyone else convinced me to give in and pay the extra 25 rupees he was demanding to spare them having to think so hard to keep up.
But that was later, and many things happened in the intervening time.
There is broad consensus on HisPs capacity to give (and take) directions. But here i must step in and intervene and explain how he probably saved us from a useless and near 90 degree trek up a mountain and took us up a even rockier stream which was slippery to boot. but the point is that we ended up at the 'bathing spot'. Though this particular bathing spot required so many feats of athleticism and sheer luck to reach that it can't be very popular. Which was probably characterized by the many undiscoved species of leech we saw. Especially the variety that caused Papare Boy's indegestion which is awaiting approval from the National Science Council to be called leechus papareguts.
'Scotland' will only be Scotland in a few hundred years. When global warming has progressed far enough to make it look like a lush green place in Sri Lanka. but it was lush and it was green. and the view of the Mahaweli river snaking along the distance was breathtaking. Full points to Monte Fano. You should go and see it. massive trees, beautiful forests, cool buildings, eagles and did i mention the view?
And no people.
There were no people!
You would be amazed at the percentage of time we spent yesterday during which we could have easily deluded ourselves into thinking we had stepped into a different universe frozen in time. 'Scotland' was empty. The monks having gone on leave, and our elderly guide was too weak to trek up the mountain with us.
The bathing spot was deserted, only sign of human life being some aricle of clothing or the other strewn haphazardly among the shrubs further upwards from the waterfall. This made the more imaginative of us (like Jerry) imagine things like rape and look lustily at certain others (like papareboy) and stalk them with cameras while they changed innocently behind bushes.
The best kimbula bunis ever tasted was real. It was crispy, the sugar just melted, it was one of the highlights of the whole trip.
This sunday we may mosey down to Mirissa, just to chill like, having had a stressfully adventurous day yesterday and all. Some tap rugger, fishing, snorkeling (HisP tells me about this great rock pool), and surfing if we can manage it.
all are welcome.
pics will be up and about soon i bet. And different aspects and events have been left out, otherwise this post would have been pages long.
Travel blog also opened. Must see how that will take off. HisP's idea.
Update: pics can be found here. The undoctored variety.
Me, Unsilent and Fallen agreed to meet at 4.45 a.m and then head over to Fort. Unsilent, having only slept an hour after a night of insane partying, arrived there exactly on time. I am shamed to say i was five minutes late. But fallen, having slept peacefully like a baby no doubt, ambled along about 20 minutes later, becoming the chief reason that Jerry spent a lonely few minutes in line for the tickets carrying our sandwiches.
Kandy
After a brief moment of panic at the railway station when papareboy started screaming 'wheres my ticket, wheres my ticket' before putting his hand into his pocket and finding it, the first thing we saw when entering Kandy was thousands upon thousands of people sitting on the pavements. eating bumbai mutai. which of course made fallen immediately purchase some for himself, and we all gorged on it while wearing sunglasses and talking in foreign accents.
Gehan came over smartly dressed and wearing shoes. We felt honored of course. and slightly ashamed that we'd come all this distance in just shorts and rubbers. I also took the opportunity to clarify a certain trait of Kandy society that Realskull and me had heard about, but i'll leave that lengthy and productive discussion to a post on my sociology blog.
We went to buy peanuts. 20 peanut shells cost twenty rupees in kandy. they like things all lined up. Apparently they do it to help them deal with numbers more efficiently in the cold weather. Which was probably what had effected me during that unfortunate brawl with the vadey seller that left him and me ultimately arguing about algorithms so complex that everyone else convinced me to give in and pay the extra 25 rupees he was demanding to spare them having to think so hard to keep up.
But that was later, and many things happened in the intervening time.
There is broad consensus on HisPs capacity to give (and take) directions. But here i must step in and intervene and explain how he probably saved us from a useless and near 90 degree trek up a mountain and took us up a even rockier stream which was slippery to boot. but the point is that we ended up at the 'bathing spot'. Though this particular bathing spot required so many feats of athleticism and sheer luck to reach that it can't be very popular. Which was probably characterized by the many undiscoved species of leech we saw. Especially the variety that caused Papare Boy's indegestion which is awaiting approval from the National Science Council to be called leechus papareguts.
'Scotland' will only be Scotland in a few hundred years. When global warming has progressed far enough to make it look like a lush green place in Sri Lanka. but it was lush and it was green. and the view of the Mahaweli river snaking along the distance was breathtaking. Full points to Monte Fano. You should go and see it. massive trees, beautiful forests, cool buildings, eagles and did i mention the view?
And no people.
There were no people!
You would be amazed at the percentage of time we spent yesterday during which we could have easily deluded ourselves into thinking we had stepped into a different universe frozen in time. 'Scotland' was empty. The monks having gone on leave, and our elderly guide was too weak to trek up the mountain with us.
The bathing spot was deserted, only sign of human life being some aricle of clothing or the other strewn haphazardly among the shrubs further upwards from the waterfall. This made the more imaginative of us (like Jerry) imagine things like rape and look lustily at certain others (like papareboy) and stalk them with cameras while they changed innocently behind bushes.
The best kimbula bunis ever tasted was real. It was crispy, the sugar just melted, it was one of the highlights of the whole trip.
This sunday we may mosey down to Mirissa, just to chill like, having had a stressfully adventurous day yesterday and all. Some tap rugger, fishing, snorkeling (HisP tells me about this great rock pool), and surfing if we can manage it.
all are welcome.
pics will be up and about soon i bet. And different aspects and events have been left out, otherwise this post would have been pages long.
Travel blog also opened. Must see how that will take off. HisP's idea.
Update: pics can be found here. The undoctored variety.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
short haircuts futewuh!
at least for me. we all have an image we are comfortable with and nothing seems to work as well for me as crew cuts do.
conductors (the bus variety) refer to me as 'aiya' now and gone are the days when they used to rudely shove me aside and snap at me to move up the aisle.
like just the night before last i was being a real annoying bastard in the bus cos i was hogging the footboard and the conda (as he is fondly known) found his movements vastly restricted. but not a word of protest did he utter. he bore me - the pain in his ass, patiently for a long time before respectfully asking; aiya kohenda bahinne? big brother, pray tell, where doth will you get off my bus?
so i told him.
and he most politely told me; 'waadiwenna'. please, why don't you take a seat?
so i did.
and just last evening i was ambling down Rudra Mawatha in Wella and this three wheel brother hailed me and said;
'Aiya, podi support ekak denna puluwanda?' Big brother, how about some help here?
his back tyre had a flat and he was missing a jack. so he needed me to help him lift the tuk and hold it in the air while he changed the tyre. and no, of course im not talking about lifting the tuk bodily right off the ground, i meant raise it so its back wheel was off the ground you dufus.
so i help him out and while we're at it i question him;
didnt you have a jack?
didnt have a jack no! he says
then he says 'sorry ah, almost done'
i say 'ah shape shape no problem'
then hes done and he utters a thanks and i say ok and walk off.
Just as if i do that sort of thing everyday!
You know what else rhymes with 'everyday'? Lingerie or lawnjeray.
i need some advice, preferably from discerning young ladies, with regard to this product. why does wearing sexy underwear under drab office clothes make a woman feel more confident? its not like your clothes getting ripped off near the photocopier is an everyday occurence is it? i understand about the lift and shape factor but really, is that all there is to it?
Please, help a brother out. its for an assignment i swear.
conductors (the bus variety) refer to me as 'aiya' now and gone are the days when they used to rudely shove me aside and snap at me to move up the aisle.
like just the night before last i was being a real annoying bastard in the bus cos i was hogging the footboard and the conda (as he is fondly known) found his movements vastly restricted. but not a word of protest did he utter. he bore me - the pain in his ass, patiently for a long time before respectfully asking; aiya kohenda bahinne? big brother, pray tell, where doth will you get off my bus?
so i told him.
and he most politely told me; 'waadiwenna'. please, why don't you take a seat?
so i did.
and just last evening i was ambling down Rudra Mawatha in Wella and this three wheel brother hailed me and said;
'Aiya, podi support ekak denna puluwanda?' Big brother, how about some help here?
his back tyre had a flat and he was missing a jack. so he needed me to help him lift the tuk and hold it in the air while he changed the tyre. and no, of course im not talking about lifting the tuk bodily right off the ground, i meant raise it so its back wheel was off the ground you dufus.
so i help him out and while we're at it i question him;
didnt you have a jack?
didnt have a jack no! he says
then he says 'sorry ah, almost done'
i say 'ah shape shape no problem'
then hes done and he utters a thanks and i say ok and walk off.
Just as if i do that sort of thing everyday!
You know what else rhymes with 'everyday'? Lingerie or lawnjeray.
i need some advice, preferably from discerning young ladies, with regard to this product. why does wearing sexy underwear under drab office clothes make a woman feel more confident? its not like your clothes getting ripped off near the photocopier is an everyday occurence is it? i understand about the lift and shape factor but really, is that all there is to it?
Please, help a brother out. its for an assignment i swear.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
the love-lust connundrum
lust - i want to bang you
love - i want to bang you forever
there. see? simple.
love - i want to bang you forever
there. see? simple.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Lingerie Beach
If there was ever a story that competed for the prize of most amount of idiotic characters it would be Troy. Or the Illiad. Now don't get me wrong, im a greek mythology buff just like you, or unlike you, but you've gotta admit the fact.
And Priam was the biggest fool of them all.
I had forgotten how great a run and a dip in the sea felt like since i left Wadduwa. The last time it was around 11 in the morning. On weekeds i'd run till i couldn't run anymore down the southern stretch of beach. then it was my habit to find a log in front of some still under construction hotel or deserted coconut estate and play the Michaelangelo.
That day i was just gazing at the water and i saw some chap in there waist deep just lounging, and it hit me like a wild coconut; how come i never thought of that before? So there was i, in the water for about half an hour, practically deserted beach, blue sea under a sun in an even bluer sky. Damn, the waves were so cool, the sand...
Ah best memories album, this one belongs in that.
Today it was at Mount beach, around 7pm. it was crowded. but i still spent some time in the water. ah the city aint got nothing on Wadduwa. But i'll tell you about one interesting place on Mount beach; once you pass all the restaurants on the nothern side, and keep going, you come to a deserted area which restaurants and tourists have failed to infiltrate. there are a few slums i think. You keep going and you soon come upto this potrusion of rock.
Its quite wide and there's some sort of building on top of it. and you cant reach it unless the tide is low. its a cool place. to the north you can see the whole shoreline of Colombo, with the lights glittering in the dark, and to the south its mount beach.
parking is a bitch though. a word of advice, its absolutely hopeless driving down beach road past the last turn off on weekend evenings or any other crowded time. You wont be able to find any parking one, and even if you do; two you'll have to bend in five different directions at the same time on the way back.
Once you're done running, you can grab a juice. theres a good place on Galle road somewhere opposite Lion Pub. Affordable and it'd prolly be a safe bet to say that they can and have made a juice out of any fruit in season at the moment. you can even get em with ice cream..
mmm.. ice cream.
Today's post courtesy; The Lingerie Industry; because you know your man deserves it..I guess you have to do a project on it to realize that thong swimwear comes in male versions as well.
And Priam was the biggest fool of them all.
I had forgotten how great a run and a dip in the sea felt like since i left Wadduwa. The last time it was around 11 in the morning. On weekeds i'd run till i couldn't run anymore down the southern stretch of beach. then it was my habit to find a log in front of some still under construction hotel or deserted coconut estate and play the Michaelangelo.
That day i was just gazing at the water and i saw some chap in there waist deep just lounging, and it hit me like a wild coconut; how come i never thought of that before? So there was i, in the water for about half an hour, practically deserted beach, blue sea under a sun in an even bluer sky. Damn, the waves were so cool, the sand...
Ah best memories album, this one belongs in that.
Today it was at Mount beach, around 7pm. it was crowded. but i still spent some time in the water. ah the city aint got nothing on Wadduwa. But i'll tell you about one interesting place on Mount beach; once you pass all the restaurants on the nothern side, and keep going, you come to a deserted area which restaurants and tourists have failed to infiltrate. there are a few slums i think. You keep going and you soon come upto this potrusion of rock.
Its quite wide and there's some sort of building on top of it. and you cant reach it unless the tide is low. its a cool place. to the north you can see the whole shoreline of Colombo, with the lights glittering in the dark, and to the south its mount beach.
parking is a bitch though. a word of advice, its absolutely hopeless driving down beach road past the last turn off on weekend evenings or any other crowded time. You wont be able to find any parking one, and even if you do; two you'll have to bend in five different directions at the same time on the way back.
Once you're done running, you can grab a juice. theres a good place on Galle road somewhere opposite Lion Pub. Affordable and it'd prolly be a safe bet to say that they can and have made a juice out of any fruit in season at the moment. you can even get em with ice cream..
mmm.. ice cream.
Today's post courtesy; The Lingerie Industry; because you know your man deserves it..I guess you have to do a project on it to realize that thong swimwear comes in male versions as well.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
where is your mind?
no actually that is a very legitimate question
where is your mind? the 'is' is in italics. you think thoughts that take you to the mediterranian sailing with a topless model to the breakers of hawai on a king size surfborad riding a huge ass wave.
then you are in space, you are captain spliff. not the comic book dammit. you are the_Captain_Spliff.
you take off like a rocket your tail lighted up and streaming smoke across the vast vast galaxy. you are a discoverer of alien races. you are the harbinger of news from Outside. They thought they were alone. Then they met you. Then they wished they were alone again.
the mind the mind. have we ever realized the vast power of the mind? we can span the entire universe and then rush back to focus on that little ant running up your arm to get at that speck of honey you dribbled onto your stomach while eating your toast.
mmmm... honey and toast.
the mystery that is inside our own heads is the biggest mystery we'll ever know. a moment of deja vu when you innocently walk in the door and a friend greets you with a good natured insult; 'Hey asshole hope your day turns out worse than mine!' at that moment you see that girl you've been lusting after walk out the ladies washroom giving you that backward glance and smile with a fling of her hair while you're lauging good naturedly but slowly experiencing that melting feeling thats at the same time sweet as it is bitter.
yes, there's a word for it i know.
That moment was in your mind. you knew about it before. it was created by your mind so that you could make it your own reality. you glance bemusedly, you shake your head, mutter deja frikkin vu man and walk off to get your tea.
you're a spoonbender. and while everyone else calls you a freak and a fake. you still have the satisfaction of shutting their gobs up when you bend metal from ten feet away.
]#]==
you close your eyes, you write. and you dont know the person who just took over your body.
psychologists do psyche not because they're good at the mechanics of the mind. they are merely curious. curious about what goes on inside their own heads. in a way, they are possibly the most mentally obsessed human beings among us, they are true adventurers in the realms of mystery; perhaps one of the last great mysteries alive on earth.
but they rationalize. they belittle. culture doesnt like mystery. the species abhors not knowing. the human ego will not allow it. we know everything.
but i say bullshit. we know something, but it is nothing compared to everything there is to know. and as long as we keep denying that there is nothing more to know than what we already know, we know nothing.
so, where is your mind?
and yes, im going thru a fight club revival
where is your mind? the 'is' is in italics. you think thoughts that take you to the mediterranian sailing with a topless model to the breakers of hawai on a king size surfborad riding a huge ass wave.
then you are in space, you are captain spliff. not the comic book dammit. you are the_Captain_Spliff.
you take off like a rocket your tail lighted up and streaming smoke across the vast vast galaxy. you are a discoverer of alien races. you are the harbinger of news from Outside. They thought they were alone. Then they met you. Then they wished they were alone again.
the mind the mind. have we ever realized the vast power of the mind? we can span the entire universe and then rush back to focus on that little ant running up your arm to get at that speck of honey you dribbled onto your stomach while eating your toast.
mmmm... honey and toast.
the mystery that is inside our own heads is the biggest mystery we'll ever know. a moment of deja vu when you innocently walk in the door and a friend greets you with a good natured insult; 'Hey asshole hope your day turns out worse than mine!' at that moment you see that girl you've been lusting after walk out the ladies washroom giving you that backward glance and smile with a fling of her hair while you're lauging good naturedly but slowly experiencing that melting feeling thats at the same time sweet as it is bitter.
yes, there's a word for it i know.
That moment was in your mind. you knew about it before. it was created by your mind so that you could make it your own reality. you glance bemusedly, you shake your head, mutter deja frikkin vu man and walk off to get your tea.
you're a spoonbender. and while everyone else calls you a freak and a fake. you still have the satisfaction of shutting their gobs up when you bend metal from ten feet away.
]#]==
you close your eyes, you write. and you dont know the person who just took over your body.
psychologists do psyche not because they're good at the mechanics of the mind. they are merely curious. curious about what goes on inside their own heads. in a way, they are possibly the most mentally obsessed human beings among us, they are true adventurers in the realms of mystery; perhaps one of the last great mysteries alive on earth.
but they rationalize. they belittle. culture doesnt like mystery. the species abhors not knowing. the human ego will not allow it. we know everything.
but i say bullshit. we know something, but it is nothing compared to everything there is to know. and as long as we keep denying that there is nothing more to know than what we already know, we know nothing.
so, where is your mind?
and yes, im going thru a fight club revival
I am Jack's cold sweat
He made me do it. i am now crumbling before the forces. they are slowly but steadily bringing me down to my knees. i feel the dream slipping away so carefully sustained oh so carefully, for twenty five years..
Whats with society and its tendency to bring you down when you want glory?
i mean you want to be an astronaut when you are a kid and then you realize that the closest you will ever get to it is smoking up at Lannys on a Sunday evening.
there are three things you need.
Chance and Choice
ok thats two things
But you also need some willpower
and you need to stop rambling.
psychotic psychosis.
the moon. You wanted to be an astronaut then you discovered the moon landing was a hoax.
if it wasnt a hoax then where are the celebrations? why do we not see the glory of American scientific achievement plastered all over the media?
Why don't we see intervews and pictures of Armstrong and the other guys. Incidentally, didn't one of these other guys die recently? i don't know, it wasnt really reported in the media
are we crackpots? if we are, are we cracked for believing in the moon landing or disbelieving in it?
NASA wants to go back. Neil Armstrong is happy cos he thinks he may have dropped his pencil there the last time he went.
He was particularly attached to that pencil..
Whats with society and its tendency to bring you down when you want glory?
i mean you want to be an astronaut when you are a kid and then you realize that the closest you will ever get to it is smoking up at Lannys on a Sunday evening.
there are three things you need.
Chance and Choice
ok thats two things
But you also need some willpower
and you need to stop rambling.
psychotic psychosis.
the moon. You wanted to be an astronaut then you discovered the moon landing was a hoax.
if it wasnt a hoax then where are the celebrations? why do we not see the glory of American scientific achievement plastered all over the media?
Why don't we see intervews and pictures of Armstrong and the other guys. Incidentally, didn't one of these other guys die recently? i don't know, it wasnt really reported in the media
are we crackpots? if we are, are we cracked for believing in the moon landing or disbelieving in it?
NASA wants to go back. Neil Armstrong is happy cos he thinks he may have dropped his pencil there the last time he went.
He was particularly attached to that pencil..
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Ted X Colombo!
Taking place at Punchi Theater this Sunday. Tedx Colombo will be exploring themes like post war development, the language barrier and the future of technology in Sri Lanka. It will feature some great speakers and also some landmark TED speeches from global TED conferences.
It's at 9.00 am. you can register to ensure a place for the whole event. See the BeyondBorders blog for more details.
For a taste of what it's going to be like visit the official TED site. If you haven't seen a single TED talk in your life then i am laughing in your face and patting you on the shoulder sympathetically ;) no seriously, they're great. Check em out. I recommend this to start with.
Monday, July 13, 2009
100 words
100 words?
do you even know how small a write up of one hundred words is?
i was a squrrel, running on the trees in the upper Ramtops when Nanny Ogg converted me into a lovely damsel that seduced the king and is now queen of Lancre
I am the beast inside HAL that morphed into physical form when my last passenger left me and now i roam in search of those that installed the monoliths on my home moon
i am the last spark of mordor within which the ring buried its evil power and now i float on, ever burning seeking a cool flower to embed my spark in.
I am the avenger of Torts that struck wonderland and killed the queen (off with her head! i said) and i am at this very moment seeking a way in through your looking glass
i am the ghost of the past. that sells you the absense of fake turkeys and bathes you in false ideals to invoke guilty consciences in the name of a dread demon.
i am poverty personified i am the reason you asked for more and got nothing. i am the cause of your Twisted life; through all the dust, grease and grime of London
I am the seaman tht killed the whale that got immortalized because i killed him. That Dick.
I am the prick. that caused Man Friday to leave only a single footprint on the beach cos he was too busy hopping. he hopped on a tree and waited for his master to come bend over below him
i am steel. steel beneath skin that made the greatest of them all from nothing to rule the world in the heavyweight championship ring.
i am the beast that proweled the misty nights and gave the poor Count a bad name; and gave your girlfriends shivers and frights
i am no one. nothing if i cannot describe myself so that i can be seen. if i do not scream you do not see, you are blind and i am compelled to boast and reveal myself naked beneath spotlights to make you see me.
blasted job application forms.
do you even know how small a write up of one hundred words is?
i was a squrrel, running on the trees in the upper Ramtops when Nanny Ogg converted me into a lovely damsel that seduced the king and is now queen of Lancre
I am the beast inside HAL that morphed into physical form when my last passenger left me and now i roam in search of those that installed the monoliths on my home moon
i am the last spark of mordor within which the ring buried its evil power and now i float on, ever burning seeking a cool flower to embed my spark in.
I am the avenger of Torts that struck wonderland and killed the queen (off with her head! i said) and i am at this very moment seeking a way in through your looking glass
i am the ghost of the past. that sells you the absense of fake turkeys and bathes you in false ideals to invoke guilty consciences in the name of a dread demon.
i am poverty personified i am the reason you asked for more and got nothing. i am the cause of your Twisted life; through all the dust, grease and grime of London
I am the seaman tht killed the whale that got immortalized because i killed him. That Dick.
I am the prick. that caused Man Friday to leave only a single footprint on the beach cos he was too busy hopping. he hopped on a tree and waited for his master to come bend over below him
i am steel. steel beneath skin that made the greatest of them all from nothing to rule the world in the heavyweight championship ring.
i am the beast that proweled the misty nights and gave the poor Count a bad name; and gave your girlfriends shivers and frights
i am no one. nothing if i cannot describe myself so that i can be seen. if i do not scream you do not see, you are blind and i am compelled to boast and reveal myself naked beneath spotlights to make you see me.
blasted job application forms.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Nilkamal Philosophy
the clock ticked in space. surrounded by the obsolete white bull that was now in for it because it disobeyed its master and went into that china shop. and destroyed the chinese economy.
this prehistoric rampage of the chinese economy left its worker base completely unable to cope with modern day requirements from workers. so they went to live inside the wall.
there disguised as statues of skeletons they lived through the dynasties that folowed that went from history to prehistory against the drift of time because even though the clock ticked forward, the world ticked back.
then the Mings and the Chins and the ChinChings and the Kochins all passed through decadence into primeval caveman like dwellings of amber mountains within diamond spyglasses like they were seen from afar, but amounted to nothing much save dwellings in their minds eye. all value gone. no materialism existed then.
no peace in their minds because animals do not desire peace they desire they desire they desire they desire they desire....
what do they desire?
what do they desire if not peace if not to be left alone when the hyena cries and that lonely lion walks the night during the great periods of migration east when the weather thaws and they are going back home?
when will the candle burn and finish but then, when will the darkness end afterwards? especially since we have now run out of candles and the last one now burns. and all we can do is wonder when it will finish.
will it finish will it end? and what will come of us later?
when philosophy becomes a trend, then the human race is on a rafter
floating on to land that doesn't exist and never did
not since the clock ticked
this prehistoric rampage of the chinese economy left its worker base completely unable to cope with modern day requirements from workers. so they went to live inside the wall.
there disguised as statues of skeletons they lived through the dynasties that folowed that went from history to prehistory against the drift of time because even though the clock ticked forward, the world ticked back.
then the Mings and the Chins and the ChinChings and the Kochins all passed through decadence into primeval caveman like dwellings of amber mountains within diamond spyglasses like they were seen from afar, but amounted to nothing much save dwellings in their minds eye. all value gone. no materialism existed then.
no peace in their minds because animals do not desire peace they desire they desire they desire they desire they desire....
what do they desire?
what do they desire if not peace if not to be left alone when the hyena cries and that lonely lion walks the night during the great periods of migration east when the weather thaws and they are going back home?
when will the candle burn and finish but then, when will the darkness end afterwards? especially since we have now run out of candles and the last one now burns. and all we can do is wonder when it will finish.
will it finish will it end? and what will come of us later?
when philosophy becomes a trend, then the human race is on a rafter
floating on to land that doesn't exist and never did
not since the clock ticked
Friday, July 10, 2009
The messed up cases
She didnt tell me that she liked her little boys. I wasn't angry cos i didn't hav a choice. Had i had a choice; it was too armorous, her voice.
She seduced me with a tiny little gleam; deep inside her dark brown eyes, but to me it passed unseen. Had i had a choice; i would have saved myself, had i wondered; wondered...
Never before had the waterfall stopped falling, never in history was the cliff top so unseen. And as the sea went on from horizon to horizon; i passed by in my black ship with sails torn and mast destroyed.
Disguised, protected beneath a veneer of broken flesh; Lest the siren see me once again and tempt me to her warm cold lonely breasts.
She seduced me with a tiny little gleam; deep inside her dark brown eyes, but to me it passed unseen. Had i had a choice; i would have saved myself, had i wondered; wondered...
Never before had the waterfall stopped falling, never in history was the cliff top so unseen. And as the sea went on from horizon to horizon; i passed by in my black ship with sails torn and mast destroyed.
Disguised, protected beneath a veneer of broken flesh; Lest the siren see me once again and tempt me to her warm cold lonely breasts.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
The Coast Guard Department
Tsk!
this is not a knife! whats wrong with you?!
hahahah!
this is a specialized cleaving instrument. meant to aid in tasks too complex for the common human fingernail!
oh no he's not going to KILL you! he's just going to to temporarly seperate your life force from physical constraints! thats not KILLING someone. its just temporary! its fun!
nooooo ur not fat! ur just big boned, in a generously proportioned sort of way! its nice! VERY COMFORTABLE ON THE EYES!
no way this is not expensive at all! buy it! the economic benefits you will get from long term use will far outweigh ANY short term discofort you may feel financially! look it comes in red!
Noooo! this is not an attempt to control the population by calling the Navy by another name and having them patrol the coasts just to remind you that WE ARE WATCHING YOU ALL THE TIME!! dont be daft! this is the Coast Guard Department!
!!!!
this is not a knife! whats wrong with you?!
hahahah!
this is a specialized cleaving instrument. meant to aid in tasks too complex for the common human fingernail!
oh no he's not going to KILL you! he's just going to to temporarly seperate your life force from physical constraints! thats not KILLING someone. its just temporary! its fun!
nooooo ur not fat! ur just big boned, in a generously proportioned sort of way! its nice! VERY COMFORTABLE ON THE EYES!
no way this is not expensive at all! buy it! the economic benefits you will get from long term use will far outweigh ANY short term discofort you may feel financially! look it comes in red!
Noooo! this is not an attempt to control the population by calling the Navy by another name and having them patrol the coasts just to remind you that WE ARE WATCHING YOU ALL THE TIME!! dont be daft! this is the Coast Guard Department!
!!!!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Obama Trashed. Optimus Prime for President; Transformers 2
Before you read any further; mild spoiler alert!
so we went and watched a movie again, and this time it was pretty obvious what it was; a movie. and a rather good one at that, except that Obama gets completely trashed in it.
the whole planet is under threat of complete destruction at the hands of the evil Decepticons and what does the president of the United States do? he runs away leaving his people to suffer and hides in his er, secret hideout. As if the sun going nova will leave anything but an atomic dust particle or two of the solar system behind. But i suppose one can always rely on the audacity of hope.
to make matters worse, he installs one of his cronies from the White House special operations team to take over eveything in his absense. Demonstrating his skill for choosing the 'right people'. This special ops agent must have been the chief toilet block investigator or something because if he'd had his way, Earth would have been flushed down a black hole before you can say 'yes we can!' and wave a flag in an optimistic manner.
To save the day, the army takes command of the military operations like their supposed to, and chucks the last remaining representative of the president of the United States rudely out of an airborne plane. You can almost hear it screaming out; if the US left its dirty work to the military like it was supposed to, they'd overrun pretty much anyone who stood in their way of 'saving the world from evil'. They even partially trash Shanghai, yes Shanghai, the stronghold of the worlds biggest army; in the very beginning of the film. leaving to no doubt as to who holds whom by the balls, at least in the mythical constructs of Hollywood. Im sorry but was George Bush named somewhere as Executive Producer? i missed the credits.
The incompetency of the President aside, the US is portrayed as the world's foremost political and economic superpower, in spite of all real life evidence to the contrary. They decide everything from when to attack to where; infiltrating foreign airspace and carrying out terrible battles in middle eastern villages at a whim. But hey its all good, civillians have to die if the world (read; the US) is to be saved from evil alien threats, especially insignificant poor people in far off countries. the further off the better. Life is only a movie if its outside your boundries of reality afterall.
It doesn't help that the chief of the Decepticons looks like some robotic version of a Pharoah. leading to no doubt as to which rough geographic location evil threats usually originate from, give or take a few hundred clicks to the South or East.
Aside from all that, Megan Fox was hot. Fullstop. And if there was any socio politcal symbolism at all associated with her i missed it as my mind was going 'mwaaa!' weakly, over and over again whenever she came on. Theres gotta be a law against people that hot.
Theres more. One would think that after the total collapse of the US car giants the Autobots would get with the times and start being Toyotas and Hondas when driving around. Instead we see out of production General Motors trucks and gas guzzling Camaros, which try a bit too had to seem cool. Im sorry sir, but im buying a Maruti, as soon as i can afford one.
But they don't appear to have completely lost touch with the current car maket as the 'newly designed' autobots (yeah theres a host of em) prance around in the guises of what can only be CBRs and Kawasakis with all branding removed.
They probably couldn't find any US cars to make the rest cos every single other new robot i could see was either a toaster or a vacuum cleaner when they were not out being badass and cutting other robots to pieces with futuristic chainsaws and laser beams.
All in all, a good watch, great entertainment. Did i mention Megan fox was hot? and humourous. Not Megan Fox, the movie. the movie was humourous. Maybe not as coolly subtle as the first one's sparse scattering of funnies but it still had the audience hooting wth laughter. They also probably needed the jokes to make up for a weak plot, not too great directing and dollop of corny hindi movie moments.
I'd rate it a little bit below Wolverine in terms of pure entertainment value but way below Transformers 1 if you're looking for a real quality watch. But watch it, its better than Night of the Museum 2 and leaves the shitpile i was tortured through last week, in the galactic dust. It'll have you glued to your seat, which is more than what a lot of other movies seem to be capable of doing lately.
so we went and watched a movie again, and this time it was pretty obvious what it was; a movie. and a rather good one at that, except that Obama gets completely trashed in it.
the whole planet is under threat of complete destruction at the hands of the evil Decepticons and what does the president of the United States do? he runs away leaving his people to suffer and hides in his er, secret hideout. As if the sun going nova will leave anything but an atomic dust particle or two of the solar system behind. But i suppose one can always rely on the audacity of hope.
to make matters worse, he installs one of his cronies from the White House special operations team to take over eveything in his absense. Demonstrating his skill for choosing the 'right people'. This special ops agent must have been the chief toilet block investigator or something because if he'd had his way, Earth would have been flushed down a black hole before you can say 'yes we can!' and wave a flag in an optimistic manner.
To save the day, the army takes command of the military operations like their supposed to, and chucks the last remaining representative of the president of the United States rudely out of an airborne plane. You can almost hear it screaming out; if the US left its dirty work to the military like it was supposed to, they'd overrun pretty much anyone who stood in their way of 'saving the world from evil'. They even partially trash Shanghai, yes Shanghai, the stronghold of the worlds biggest army; in the very beginning of the film. leaving to no doubt as to who holds whom by the balls, at least in the mythical constructs of Hollywood. Im sorry but was George Bush named somewhere as Executive Producer? i missed the credits.
The incompetency of the President aside, the US is portrayed as the world's foremost political and economic superpower, in spite of all real life evidence to the contrary. They decide everything from when to attack to where; infiltrating foreign airspace and carrying out terrible battles in middle eastern villages at a whim. But hey its all good, civillians have to die if the world (read; the US) is to be saved from evil alien threats, especially insignificant poor people in far off countries. the further off the better. Life is only a movie if its outside your boundries of reality afterall.
It doesn't help that the chief of the Decepticons looks like some robotic version of a Pharoah. leading to no doubt as to which rough geographic location evil threats usually originate from, give or take a few hundred clicks to the South or East.
Aside from all that, Megan Fox was hot. Fullstop. And if there was any socio politcal symbolism at all associated with her i missed it as my mind was going 'mwaaa!' weakly, over and over again whenever she came on. Theres gotta be a law against people that hot.
Theres more. One would think that after the total collapse of the US car giants the Autobots would get with the times and start being Toyotas and Hondas when driving around. Instead we see out of production General Motors trucks and gas guzzling Camaros, which try a bit too had to seem cool. Im sorry sir, but im buying a Maruti, as soon as i can afford one.
But they don't appear to have completely lost touch with the current car maket as the 'newly designed' autobots (yeah theres a host of em) prance around in the guises of what can only be CBRs and Kawasakis with all branding removed.
They probably couldn't find any US cars to make the rest cos every single other new robot i could see was either a toaster or a vacuum cleaner when they were not out being badass and cutting other robots to pieces with futuristic chainsaws and laser beams.
All in all, a good watch, great entertainment. Did i mention Megan fox was hot? and humourous. Not Megan Fox, the movie. the movie was humourous. Maybe not as coolly subtle as the first one's sparse scattering of funnies but it still had the audience hooting wth laughter. They also probably needed the jokes to make up for a weak plot, not too great directing and dollop of corny hindi movie moments.
I'd rate it a little bit below Wolverine in terms of pure entertainment value but way below Transformers 1 if you're looking for a real quality watch. But watch it, its better than Night of the Museum 2 and leaves the shitpile i was tortured through last week, in the galactic dust. It'll have you glued to your seat, which is more than what a lot of other movies seem to be capable of doing lately.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Boozing water
Camera, slightly going on the blink. office mates with fetish for using the remains of drinking sessions as water bottles for daily consumption. Probably takes away the dreariness of work; every time you sip you're briefly taken back to drunken nights of excess and glory and all that. Or there is also the possibility that people were just looking for a water bottle and heard that plastic bottles were unhealthy..
Monday, June 29, 2009
Watchmen
We went to watch a movie yesterday. At least i thought it was a movie. If i wasn't constricted to the norms of reality i would call it something between a lullaby and a sleeping pill. Except for the occasional violent bits consisting of child molestation, falling off of buildings, vetically excecuted cleaving-knife chops to skulls, rape and Jerry trying to descreetly grope people it was pretty uneventful.
There was a huge blue chap. body like Adonis. Thoroughly naked but with a blurry bit where his pelvis should have been. I mean, if you're gonna get electricuted or get caught in the middle of a fusion reactor and get superpowers and all that junk, the least that could be asked for is to have all your organs intact, to take advantage of the perks of the job, so to speak.
But he didnt seem to be totally deprived. There was this latex clad bombshell whom he used to satisfy while also looking at the advanced schematics of a nutron bomb diffuser at the same time, a fact which she didnt seem to appreciate, not that i think it felt any different; she just resented the fact that he could actually think of saving the world from nuclear holocaust when he was 'supposed' to focus his complete attention on her (This type of behavior comes standard with the package when it comes to women, even in movies).
Disaster was averted when she dumped him for a geek with a Batman fetish, who flies around in a crazy contraption that looks like a bulemic bee. He ends up crying like a baby in the end, when his boyfriend dies.
There were snaps of political rhetoric that were obviously meant to be some sort of subtle and darkly witty neo-Marxist critique of the existing social order. There was, to end with, a noble 'message' where the bad guy walks free and the good guy (the blue guy) takes the fall and goes back to Mars to build merrygorounds so that people can live in peace and achieve the much dreamed of status of a 'global hippie community'* for the rest of survival.
*Meaning they would start smoking marijuana and living in the open and permanently give up on baths because they are a call back to 'civilization' which is symbolized by 'industrialization' which harks back to 'competition' which reminds them of 'competing for resources' which obviously means war and if there is one thing a hippie hates it is war.
So they shunned technology and took to idyllic foresty villages and gave up on space exploration (because 'technology' is 'civilization' and so on and so forth) and they all died a few millennia later when the sun went nova. And the Blue guy banged his head repeatedly against Sirius because it was all his fault they turned into hippies and missed out on the chance of colonizing the Milky Way and saving themselves.
That last bit will probably show up on the sequel. Oh wait, crappy movies don't get sequels; that last bit will probably be buried in some unread script in the dusty corridoors of Universal Studios 'til some 'creative type' picks it up fifty years down the line and my grandson later writes a post about it on his blog which would be similar to this one if he had any taste to speak of in entertainment.
There was a huge blue chap. body like Adonis. Thoroughly naked but with a blurry bit where his pelvis should have been. I mean, if you're gonna get electricuted or get caught in the middle of a fusion reactor and get superpowers and all that junk, the least that could be asked for is to have all your organs intact, to take advantage of the perks of the job, so to speak.
But he didnt seem to be totally deprived. There was this latex clad bombshell whom he used to satisfy while also looking at the advanced schematics of a nutron bomb diffuser at the same time, a fact which she didnt seem to appreciate, not that i think it felt any different; she just resented the fact that he could actually think of saving the world from nuclear holocaust when he was 'supposed' to focus his complete attention on her (This type of behavior comes standard with the package when it comes to women, even in movies).
Disaster was averted when she dumped him for a geek with a Batman fetish, who flies around in a crazy contraption that looks like a bulemic bee. He ends up crying like a baby in the end, when his boyfriend dies.
There were snaps of political rhetoric that were obviously meant to be some sort of subtle and darkly witty neo-Marxist critique of the existing social order. There was, to end with, a noble 'message' where the bad guy walks free and the good guy (the blue guy) takes the fall and goes back to Mars to build merrygorounds so that people can live in peace and achieve the much dreamed of status of a 'global hippie community'* for the rest of survival.
*Meaning they would start smoking marijuana and living in the open and permanently give up on baths because they are a call back to 'civilization' which is symbolized by 'industrialization' which harks back to 'competition' which reminds them of 'competing for resources' which obviously means war and if there is one thing a hippie hates it is war.
So they shunned technology and took to idyllic foresty villages and gave up on space exploration (because 'technology' is 'civilization' and so on and so forth) and they all died a few millennia later when the sun went nova. And the Blue guy banged his head repeatedly against Sirius because it was all his fault they turned into hippies and missed out on the chance of colonizing the Milky Way and saving themselves.
That last bit will probably show up on the sequel. Oh wait, crappy movies don't get sequels; that last bit will probably be buried in some unread script in the dusty corridoors of Universal Studios 'til some 'creative type' picks it up fifty years down the line and my grandson later writes a post about it on his blog which would be similar to this one if he had any taste to speak of in entertainment.
When reality bites on Mondays
Mondays are a symptom of corporate dominance; they are the wiliest instrument of fate they are obvious days; where your desperate ways are revealed to you in the harsh morning light.
The relief however brief felt on a sunday night gives away to a weary sort of fright as the alarm peals out in a death knell of doom your peace vanishes as your mind is consumed with realities that are normally concealed.
The feelings so free; on a friday, one night of glee fade away and dark thoughts of the fates of human beings in the grey dawn arise
thoughts, unwelcome, thoughts; chase away greed; thoughts of fate, death and the purpose of life assail you as you go about your daily routine, anything to escape
from this monstrous landscape.
So as the morning gives away to sunlight, and the demons of everyday dreariness and worldly delights take over; you are once again externally focussed and once again a short termist;
in the short term of life.
The relief however brief felt on a sunday night gives away to a weary sort of fright as the alarm peals out in a death knell of doom your peace vanishes as your mind is consumed with realities that are normally concealed.
The feelings so free; on a friday, one night of glee fade away and dark thoughts of the fates of human beings in the grey dawn arise
thoughts, unwelcome, thoughts; chase away greed; thoughts of fate, death and the purpose of life assail you as you go about your daily routine, anything to escape
from this monstrous landscape.
So as the morning gives away to sunlight, and the demons of everyday dreariness and worldly delights take over; you are once again externally focussed and once again a short termist;
in the short term of life.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
FrankenMarketing
Management. Man if there was ever a science that dealt with pure common sense it would be management. I mean you go for years of classes and slave through exams only to come up with what a five year old would say is the the most obviously logical solution to a problem and three years down the line you don't really feel like you've learned anything. You just feel like a coconut. Husk removed, oil extracted, and distributed across several locations ranging from five star hotels to slums to the Everest of garbage that is sitting in Maligawatte; the same coconut, but 'diversified'.
Ok that analogy looks and sounds a bit off doesnt it? No matter. The blunders that big firms make is what actually brought me to write this random one. The story of McDonalds entering India with a beefburgher is probably a folk tale by now to any person who sat through a marketing or management course at any point in their lives over the last fifteen years. I mean here you have a global firm, very experienced, entering a massive market famed for their reverence of cows and how do they go about making their entry? by making a big hullaballoo about how great their beefburgher is. im sick of it.
Im sick of hearing about this chicken entrepreneur who translated their slogan 'it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken' into spanish and ended up with 'it takes a virile man to make a chicken affectionate' or something along those lines. im sick of hearing of this airline who went into Hong Kong and decided to be all innovative and give out free flowers to first time passengers. Great idea right? Wrong. They chose carnations and guess what, Hong Kongese or however you may call them associate carnations with death; the big D word, the one that everyone tries to ignore. How would you feel if someone handed you a miniature coffin or a free voucher to a funeral parlour when you board a plane? Dumbasses.
So what management students and lecturers all over the world do is, they look at these chaps who made these blunders and they snigger at them in a superior manner. They laugh over them during drinks. They use them as examples to describe common everyday events, leaving those not in the loop contemplating dialing the sanatorium. it makes these chaps feel good to think that even global corporate giants can make stupid mistakes like these. it helps counter the constant sense of inferiority that drives them to take up jobs in the world of corporate bum slavery. for evey guy who climbs the corporate ladder, there is another one fumbling and falling down to the endless depths of no return, or simply retiring.
And then we have countries like China that are driving the rest of them up the wall. How can you beat a place where there is enough labor to fill several factories that costs you only about 2 dollars a month to maintain? and that is per-factory. Salaries all over the world are being cut because of the inexhaustible rate at which people seem to be crawling out to work out of the nooks and crannies of China. I think they've got some kinda people producing plant hidden in there somewhere. Either that or they've been planning this for centuries. And perfecting their own brand of top secret Kama Sutra, with modifications designed to focus on the end result and not the actual process of the thing. So if Bill Gates starts driving a Toyota and that hotshot fast rising executive at your Rotaract club pulls into the next meeting on a BMX, you know who to blame. Or thank.
And its all about money. Oh no, don't be fooled by the altruistic overtones. Even CSR is simply alturism furnished with a pair of binoculars (to modify a Helvetius quote). Its all about driving profit. I was initially disillusioned with the whole concept of marketing because i simply saw it as a way of bullshitting, tricking, manipulating and convincing some poor chap to forego six months of his mortgage payments to buy a pair of Pradas to finally feel like a man. Now i know that if that chap was stupid enough to actually gobble it up, he deserves the cardboard box he is living in and he deserved to be tricked and bullshitted and brainwashed. You're just dealing out justice. 'No worries mate, it's all good down under' says the eskimo who just bought the latest LG 'ice machine' three door 'super door cooling' Made in Australia freezer cum kitchenette, and who sold his father's only whaling boat to afford it; plunging his family into a doomed state of polar bear fodder.
It teaches you dog eat dog ness. It teaches you to kill or be killed. If the corporate world is the jungle, then management is the art of survival. Quick on your feet, running before you even leap out of bed, running in your sleep. Stalking your prey day and night. You call him a customer and claim he's always right. But when it comes to the most important things in life, he's only right if he agrees with you. You can hear the thunder before the storm but you can't hear the marketer as he stalks you while you innocently watch Prison Break, or foolishly read hit-ad while sitting on an empty wallet and a soon to be declined credit card.
Its sick, its disgusting, yet i am almost triple qualified in it. Im a disgrace. But im out to get your money, I won't warn you again. Or i will if you buy these Pradas, go on treat yourself, you're a man that needs them. Your family deserves them. Your career depends on them. Your daughter's marriage prospects depend on them. Buy them! You're feeling sleepy, when i snap my fingers you will wake up and pay me and go home and ignore the repossessors and love the cardboard box that you end up in because you're a loser and im the king and the world is a moneymaking jungle. I'm too classy for an evil laugh.
Ok that analogy looks and sounds a bit off doesnt it? No matter. The blunders that big firms make is what actually brought me to write this random one. The story of McDonalds entering India with a beefburgher is probably a folk tale by now to any person who sat through a marketing or management course at any point in their lives over the last fifteen years. I mean here you have a global firm, very experienced, entering a massive market famed for their reverence of cows and how do they go about making their entry? by making a big hullaballoo about how great their beefburgher is. im sick of it.
Im sick of hearing about this chicken entrepreneur who translated their slogan 'it takes a tough man to make a tender chicken' into spanish and ended up with 'it takes a virile man to make a chicken affectionate' or something along those lines. im sick of hearing of this airline who went into Hong Kong and decided to be all innovative and give out free flowers to first time passengers. Great idea right? Wrong. They chose carnations and guess what, Hong Kongese or however you may call them associate carnations with death; the big D word, the one that everyone tries to ignore. How would you feel if someone handed you a miniature coffin or a free voucher to a funeral parlour when you board a plane? Dumbasses.
So what management students and lecturers all over the world do is, they look at these chaps who made these blunders and they snigger at them in a superior manner. They laugh over them during drinks. They use them as examples to describe common everyday events, leaving those not in the loop contemplating dialing the sanatorium. it makes these chaps feel good to think that even global corporate giants can make stupid mistakes like these. it helps counter the constant sense of inferiority that drives them to take up jobs in the world of corporate bum slavery. for evey guy who climbs the corporate ladder, there is another one fumbling and falling down to the endless depths of no return, or simply retiring.
And then we have countries like China that are driving the rest of them up the wall. How can you beat a place where there is enough labor to fill several factories that costs you only about 2 dollars a month to maintain? and that is per-factory. Salaries all over the world are being cut because of the inexhaustible rate at which people seem to be crawling out to work out of the nooks and crannies of China. I think they've got some kinda people producing plant hidden in there somewhere. Either that or they've been planning this for centuries. And perfecting their own brand of top secret Kama Sutra, with modifications designed to focus on the end result and not the actual process of the thing. So if Bill Gates starts driving a Toyota and that hotshot fast rising executive at your Rotaract club pulls into the next meeting on a BMX, you know who to blame. Or thank.
And its all about money. Oh no, don't be fooled by the altruistic overtones. Even CSR is simply alturism furnished with a pair of binoculars (to modify a Helvetius quote). Its all about driving profit. I was initially disillusioned with the whole concept of marketing because i simply saw it as a way of bullshitting, tricking, manipulating and convincing some poor chap to forego six months of his mortgage payments to buy a pair of Pradas to finally feel like a man. Now i know that if that chap was stupid enough to actually gobble it up, he deserves the cardboard box he is living in and he deserved to be tricked and bullshitted and brainwashed. You're just dealing out justice. 'No worries mate, it's all good down under' says the eskimo who just bought the latest LG 'ice machine' three door 'super door cooling' Made in Australia freezer cum kitchenette, and who sold his father's only whaling boat to afford it; plunging his family into a doomed state of polar bear fodder.
It teaches you dog eat dog ness. It teaches you to kill or be killed. If the corporate world is the jungle, then management is the art of survival. Quick on your feet, running before you even leap out of bed, running in your sleep. Stalking your prey day and night. You call him a customer and claim he's always right. But when it comes to the most important things in life, he's only right if he agrees with you. You can hear the thunder before the storm but you can't hear the marketer as he stalks you while you innocently watch Prison Break, or foolishly read hit-ad while sitting on an empty wallet and a soon to be declined credit card.
Its sick, its disgusting, yet i am almost triple qualified in it. Im a disgrace. But im out to get your money, I won't warn you again. Or i will if you buy these Pradas, go on treat yourself, you're a man that needs them. Your family deserves them. Your career depends on them. Your daughter's marriage prospects depend on them. Buy them! You're feeling sleepy, when i snap my fingers you will wake up and pay me and go home and ignore the repossessors and love the cardboard box that you end up in because you're a loser and im the king and the world is a moneymaking jungle. I'm too classy for an evil laugh.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Pseudo-Anonymous
How many of us who blog these days are actually anonymous? If I had any anonymity, it was reduced to a state of pseudo-anonymity after open mike. Not that i regret it. It felt kind of good to come out into the open and then realize that you don't really feel like deleting all those posts with possibly embarrassing details of your life embedded in them, contrary to what you thought.
So now I’m just pseudo-anonymous. I simply say pseudo because TheWhacksteR is now simply a pseudonym. If you want to know my real name just click on the link to my twitter account that’s on this blog somewhere.
I have no idea why i chose the name TheWhacksteR. Its definitely a painful ask to type. It all started as a prank. I somehow convinced someone i was SMSing that i was the offspring of the Armenian ambassador and that my name was Wackinnaborgeouseworsoski ('my friends call me Whacko'). Revealing this to a couple of friends who actually knew the person in question brought about a hilarious reaction and the joke went on for quite some time. The name kind of stuck afterwards and 'Whacko' seemed to have kind of a ring with the state of my mentality so when i started blogging i guess i improvised on it to come up with TW.
On an unrelated note to blogging, but on a related note to Armenians, I once went on this ITN TV show (Fan Club i think) pretending to be this Armenian (Serge Mihailovitch) working for an NGO specifically involved in eradicating cholera in the North and West. The lady handling the show was kind of miffed that a 'Russian' was calling her and commented on how alike my accent was to Indians. At which point i objected to being called Russian and stressed on the ethnic characteristics of Armenians. I also pointed out the fact that i was heavily loaded with work these days due to many of my co-workers being unfortunately afflicted with the deadly disease they were supposed to be combating.
I also made a suggestion that the host should move around a little bit more and look a bit more alive, which didn’t go down too well with her i think. At the end though, the promised Metallica video did not materialize and some worn out 10 year old MC Hammer type love song was going to be played in its stead. I raised my objections which turned into a bit of an argument at the end of which i enjoyed telling her that in fact, i was Sri Lankan and thank you very much for the entertainment, at which point i was cut off.
I was heavily into System of a Down those days which may explain the Armenian connection, yeah i know.
So yes, anonymous blogging, what made you guys pick your own names? I’m sure there’s got to be a good story or two lurking around somewhere...?
So now I’m just pseudo-anonymous. I simply say pseudo because TheWhacksteR is now simply a pseudonym. If you want to know my real name just click on the link to my twitter account that’s on this blog somewhere.
I have no idea why i chose the name TheWhacksteR. Its definitely a painful ask to type. It all started as a prank. I somehow convinced someone i was SMSing that i was the offspring of the Armenian ambassador and that my name was Wackinnaborgeouseworsoski ('my friends call me Whacko'). Revealing this to a couple of friends who actually knew the person in question brought about a hilarious reaction and the joke went on for quite some time. The name kind of stuck afterwards and 'Whacko' seemed to have kind of a ring with the state of my mentality so when i started blogging i guess i improvised on it to come up with TW.
On an unrelated note to blogging, but on a related note to Armenians, I once went on this ITN TV show (Fan Club i think) pretending to be this Armenian (Serge Mihailovitch) working for an NGO specifically involved in eradicating cholera in the North and West. The lady handling the show was kind of miffed that a 'Russian' was calling her and commented on how alike my accent was to Indians. At which point i objected to being called Russian and stressed on the ethnic characteristics of Armenians. I also pointed out the fact that i was heavily loaded with work these days due to many of my co-workers being unfortunately afflicted with the deadly disease they were supposed to be combating.
I also made a suggestion that the host should move around a little bit more and look a bit more alive, which didn’t go down too well with her i think. At the end though, the promised Metallica video did not materialize and some worn out 10 year old MC Hammer type love song was going to be played in its stead. I raised my objections which turned into a bit of an argument at the end of which i enjoyed telling her that in fact, i was Sri Lankan and thank you very much for the entertainment, at which point i was cut off.
I was heavily into System of a Down those days which may explain the Armenian connection, yeah i know.
So yes, anonymous blogging, what made you guys pick your own names? I’m sure there’s got to be a good story or two lurking around somewhere...?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Crude Awakening
Neophytes in black
threatening murder for treason
we always knew you'd be back
claiming for the sides of reason
Now, this may be the wrong season
but desire still dictates
and in the deeper reaches of my soul
a slow monster awakes
He wants to get you out of his head
he wants to lustily tear you apart
but he also wants, he also needs
to love you with all his heart
He wants to bathe you in tenderness,
while inside he's aflush
he wants to live the life of an ease:
a lust in which, he wants to trust
But he must not be freed!
for he may do harm with this, indeed;
He may feed upon himself
before he plants this seed.
threatening murder for treason
we always knew you'd be back
claiming for the sides of reason
Now, this may be the wrong season
but desire still dictates
and in the deeper reaches of my soul
a slow monster awakes
He wants to get you out of his head
he wants to lustily tear you apart
but he also wants, he also needs
to love you with all his heart
He wants to bathe you in tenderness,
while inside he's aflush
he wants to live the life of an ease:
a lust in which, he wants to trust
But he must not be freed!
for he may do harm with this, indeed;
He may feed upon himself
before he plants this seed.
Monday, June 8, 2009
(...)
renephobe
whats that word mean?
i don't know
but then again
what does anything?
xenophobe
ah now that word means something
but then again
why should you fear me?
confusionoscope
thats what my eyes are
the word presents itself
like that kaleidoscope
that broke
i spoke
there, i said what was on my mind
now forgive me my bated breath
as i try to figure out
if the truths i spoke
were sufficiently described as artistic lies
tricks of the mind
i play and im played blind
until stumbling, a blind man
i turned back to the same door
from where i came in
there is a way back in (i think)
if i try hard again
if i was to be a different man
if i were to
re-wire my brain
but the room im trying to get into
is a bit untidyt
im not proud of it
but a lot of effort
if i want to live in it
or take my chances
in the dark
hearing geckos fart
and listening to shadows creak
as stumbling, another door
i seek.
whats that word mean?
i don't know
but then again
what does anything?
xenophobe
ah now that word means something
but then again
why should you fear me?
confusionoscope
thats what my eyes are
the word presents itself
like that kaleidoscope
that broke
i spoke
there, i said what was on my mind
now forgive me my bated breath
as i try to figure out
if the truths i spoke
were sufficiently described as artistic lies
tricks of the mind
i play and im played blind
until stumbling, a blind man
i turned back to the same door
from where i came in
there is a way back in (i think)
if i try hard again
if i was to be a different man
if i were to
re-wire my brain
but the room im trying to get into
is a bit untidyt
im not proud of it
but a lot of effort
if i want to live in it
or take my chances
in the dark
hearing geckos fart
and listening to shadows creak
as stumbling, another door
i seek.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
if i were a troll
I also want to troll. but i don't think i have the random sense of hate towards the rest of society right now to fuel me. Which is a pity though, cos i think i'd have made one hell of a troll.
But lets spare a thought for them cos it takes a lot of effort to read through the whole of the blogodrome and nitpick through various posts to come up with a detailed analysis of things that can be used to poke fun at people with. Its probably a full time job even.
And if you're having a bad day with humor generation. There is always the option of inserting various profane words to spice it up a bit. Always covers up a lack of anything funny to say, a dirty word here and there.
Also, fresh material for posts is all around you. Other people think of topics to write about and all you have to do is take their posts apart and make fun of them.. Which, if you are sufficiently alienated from the rest of society, should'nt be too hard.
Your inverted sense of inadequacy will transform into a false sense of superiority that will completely misinterpret your actions as 'constrcutive' and your criticisms 'positive'. Being a troll is not as easy as it may seem though, any good troll probably needs to keep the anger alive to keep going. Probably Padashow, possibly listens to a lot of Slipknot and flips the bird to himself everytime he/she/they see a reflective surface.
Thats conditioning man, we all need to keep our shit locked down yeah.
Also, it seems the people you make fun of will actually comment on your posts with glad tidings of joy that they have been worthy of your attention. And they will also sadly, mostly be the only commenters on these posts. Unless you are a bit more commercial. But no matter, that shows you hit your mark yes. And any good critic needs attention.
But lets spare a thought for them cos it takes a lot of effort to read through the whole of the blogodrome and nitpick through various posts to come up with a detailed analysis of things that can be used to poke fun at people with. Its probably a full time job even.
And if you're having a bad day with humor generation. There is always the option of inserting various profane words to spice it up a bit. Always covers up a lack of anything funny to say, a dirty word here and there.
Also, fresh material for posts is all around you. Other people think of topics to write about and all you have to do is take their posts apart and make fun of them.. Which, if you are sufficiently alienated from the rest of society, should'nt be too hard.
Your inverted sense of inadequacy will transform into a false sense of superiority that will completely misinterpret your actions as 'constrcutive' and your criticisms 'positive'. Being a troll is not as easy as it may seem though, any good troll probably needs to keep the anger alive to keep going. Probably Padashow, possibly listens to a lot of Slipknot and flips the bird to himself everytime he/she/they see a reflective surface.
Thats conditioning man, we all need to keep our shit locked down yeah.
Also, it seems the people you make fun of will actually comment on your posts with glad tidings of joy that they have been worthy of your attention. And they will also sadly, mostly be the only commenters on these posts. Unless you are a bit more commercial. But no matter, that shows you hit your mark yes. And any good critic needs attention.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tagamolilah (to Dennis)
Five words that came into my mind when this whole 'situation' befell our home land. Thank you for the tags.
1. hmmm (thoughtful..)
2. Hmmmm..(skeptical)
3. Hmm..(cynical)
4. Humh (acceptance..)
5. Hmmmm lets wait and see what happens now...
hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm.. reminds me of this Crash Test Dummies song.
P.S Dennis was an old boss of mine. Big guy, Filipino. Hair long and braided down to his waist. He's walking down Galle Face at night with one of his girlfriends. The hangers on at Galle face approach him (''cos you know that Chinese girls have a bad reputation..').
'Hey Brother!' they say
'Naaah, i dont think we share the same mother'..
'Hey Pal!' they try again..
'Naaah i don't think you and me are friends'
Dennis walks into dine-mor with a bunch of guys. They convince him that the appropriate way of addressing a waiter in Sri Lanka is to say 'ponnaya'. Dennis gets hungry and tired of the late service. It's the busy lunch hour and he has to yell and so yes the rest is obvious...
Dennis in the training room. His always calm disposition is awry today because a new top guy, self proclaimed nigga from the Projects (a Mr. Herb 'Chop-from-the-top' Kimble), is getting on everyones nerves.
Reza is sitting next to me. He is concentrating hard as Dennis lets loose his tirade. His chin is resting on his fist as his index finger taps on his lips. then suddenly
'Yeah Reza, f*** you too!'
Reza is dumbstruck. He's confused, realizes what may have gone wrong and manages a shaky..
'But Dennis, i was holding this finger' while holding up the offending article for all to see.
Dennis = non-plussed.
So What? in the Philipines THIS means f*** off!
1. hmmm (thoughtful..)
2. Hmmmm..(skeptical)
3. Hmm..(cynical)
4. Humh (acceptance..)
5. Hmmmm lets wait and see what happens now...
hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm.. reminds me of this Crash Test Dummies song.
P.S Dennis was an old boss of mine. Big guy, Filipino. Hair long and braided down to his waist. He's walking down Galle Face at night with one of his girlfriends. The hangers on at Galle face approach him (''cos you know that Chinese girls have a bad reputation..').
'Hey Brother!' they say
'Naaah, i dont think we share the same mother'..
'Hey Pal!' they try again..
'Naaah i don't think you and me are friends'
Dennis walks into dine-mor with a bunch of guys. They convince him that the appropriate way of addressing a waiter in Sri Lanka is to say 'ponnaya'. Dennis gets hungry and tired of the late service. It's the busy lunch hour and he has to yell and so yes the rest is obvious...
Dennis in the training room. His always calm disposition is awry today because a new top guy, self proclaimed nigga from the Projects (a Mr. Herb 'Chop-from-the-top' Kimble), is getting on everyones nerves.
Reza is sitting next to me. He is concentrating hard as Dennis lets loose his tirade. His chin is resting on his fist as his index finger taps on his lips. then suddenly
'Yeah Reza, f*** you too!'
Reza is dumbstruck. He's confused, realizes what may have gone wrong and manages a shaky..
'But Dennis, i was holding this finger' while holding up the offending article for all to see.
Dennis = non-plussed.
So What? in the Philipines THIS means f*** off!
i am yet to figure out the truth of this.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Pick up fine
We travel back in time a decade or so and...
There i am, a confused teenager wondering how the whole guy girl thing works. Slowly, pop culture exposes me to the phenomenon of pick up lines and i confront the holy grail of sexual pursuit; this is what i had been waiting for, this was the secret!
I put my newfound knowledge into practice. I started off with the lame 'have i seen you somewhere before?' line at an Interact event. A series of bemused girls say mixtures of things like 'er. i dont know hmm let me think about it', 'er, have you? where?' until, jackpot! one goes 'oh yeah at drama comp right?!' (i had never been to a drama comp in my life) i say 'yeaaah, i think you could be right!'.
So this one is really pretty and im all excited and manage to carry through a conversation and get her number and promise to call her sometime. Only i was so excited to have pulled it off i had to ask her three or four times afterwards for confirmation. Just to make sure it had really taken place outside the confines of my mind.
This other time, im at a rock concert and im walking up the stairs at MKOP. There are these two girls and one of 'em, as far as i could discern, was checking me (or possibly my friend, assuming she was slightly squint eyed) out while we were going up the stairs, so i go upto them and ask the one who was looking;
'Have you been feeling kinda tired lately?'
What can only be retrospectivey described as confusion, but disguised to my eyes in the heat of that moment as charmingly aroused curiousity, passes across her face.
'Uh tired? No?'
A pause, she was obviously not wondering which lunatic asylum i escaped from; Angoda or Mulleriyawa, and then she drops the question i've been waiting for...
'Why?'
So let her have the punchline.
And lean against the bannister and look into her eyes, not a lot unlike Elvis, expecting to see that brief moment when she would melt as her walls of restraint collapse beneath a river of uncontrollable adoration.
Instead I see horror. And indignation. And she blurts out;
'Excuse me but my mom is here!'
That was probably the only thing she could think of, but she was refferring to the 'chick' standing next to her, and the scary part is that I think that really was her mom, who was leaning on the banister like some rocker chick and giving me a look as if to say; where did you get the balls??
So i followed the first instinct of wisdom, I flirted with the mom. No, not really, I walked away before any fathers or brothers could materialize. See the thing with instinct is you gotta make sure its not too influenced by the latest installment of American Pie, or you'll find yourself getting into a sticky situation, rather like that unfortunate pie in the movie.
There i am, a confused teenager wondering how the whole guy girl thing works. Slowly, pop culture exposes me to the phenomenon of pick up lines and i confront the holy grail of sexual pursuit; this is what i had been waiting for, this was the secret!
I put my newfound knowledge into practice. I started off with the lame 'have i seen you somewhere before?' line at an Interact event. A series of bemused girls say mixtures of things like 'er. i dont know hmm let me think about it', 'er, have you? where?' until, jackpot! one goes 'oh yeah at drama comp right?!' (i had never been to a drama comp in my life) i say 'yeaaah, i think you could be right!'.
So this one is really pretty and im all excited and manage to carry through a conversation and get her number and promise to call her sometime. Only i was so excited to have pulled it off i had to ask her three or four times afterwards for confirmation. Just to make sure it had really taken place outside the confines of my mind.
This other time, im at a rock concert and im walking up the stairs at MKOP. There are these two girls and one of 'em, as far as i could discern, was checking me (or possibly my friend, assuming she was slightly squint eyed) out while we were going up the stairs, so i go upto them and ask the one who was looking;
'Have you been feeling kinda tired lately?'
What can only be retrospectivey described as confusion, but disguised to my eyes in the heat of that moment as charmingly aroused curiousity, passes across her face.
'Uh tired? No?'
A pause, she was obviously not wondering which lunatic asylum i escaped from; Angoda or Mulleriyawa, and then she drops the question i've been waiting for...
'Why?'
So let her have the punchline.
And lean against the bannister and look into her eyes, not a lot unlike Elvis, expecting to see that brief moment when she would melt as her walls of restraint collapse beneath a river of uncontrollable adoration.
Instead I see horror. And indignation. And she blurts out;
'Excuse me but my mom is here!'
That was probably the only thing she could think of, but she was refferring to the 'chick' standing next to her, and the scary part is that I think that really was her mom, who was leaning on the banister like some rocker chick and giving me a look as if to say; where did you get the balls??
So i followed the first instinct of wisdom, I flirted with the mom. No, not really, I walked away before any fathers or brothers could materialize. See the thing with instinct is you gotta make sure its not too influenced by the latest installment of American Pie, or you'll find yourself getting into a sticky situation, rather like that unfortunate pie in the movie.
Monday, May 25, 2009
one line errs
it only hurts when im breathing.
have you got some sort of lung disease?
ah nononononono just some some lovey dovey stuff, some lovey dovey stuff
have you got some sort of lung disease?
ah nononononono just some some lovey dovey stuff, some lovey dovey stuff
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Creating Superman
Nietzsche by jdgomezmo
Reading the work of Friedrich Nietzsche we are welcomed into an armchair of volatility, comfortably immersed in insane thought. I think this guy invented superman, though I haven't actually followed the lore of the caped one.
Now the superman emerges from what was Nietzsche’s greatest work. Thus spake Zarathustra. Nietzsche, already established as a profound German philosopher, racked by illness, almost on the verge of death, speaks his last will and prepares to succumb. He is in his mid thirties. But by a miraculous as-luck-would-have-it stroke of fate, he is cured and then is overcome with the 'joys' of life. This sadly, does not last and in a few more years he is up in the Alps somewhere, in solitude, contemplating (you may be tempted to ask what exactly he was 'contemplating', I’m getting there, I’m getting there).
He writes,
I sat there waiting - waiting for nothing
Enjoying beyond good and evil now
The light, now the shade; there was only
The day, the lake, the noon, time without end.
Then my friend, suddenly one became two,
And Zarathustra passed by me.
He discovers a new religion, a new philosophy; he discovers the answers to his lifelong unrest with humanity, the human condition and destiny.
And he invents Superman.
Through the words and wisdom of Zarathustra, a close parody of the Persian prophet who spawned the religion of Zoroastrianism, he extolls the virtue of what is conventionally known as 'evil'. He exposes altruism, sympathy and every other 'good' sentiment held noble by the world's religions as 'weak'. He curses them to be the cause of dragging humanity to the dredges of mediocrity, of encouraging the great to become like the insignificant and helpless; the 'herd' or the masses.
He argues that for the human race to develop there should arise from among us a class of people stronger, braver, fiercer and more violent. A class of man that lives dangerously takes risks and explores new frontiers. A people not held back by sympathy to the weak, a people who exult in the glory of war; who conquer all before them, who will set the platform for the creation of the ultimate human; the Superman.
But the natural order of things is against the creation of this Superman. Nature favours the weak. It seeks to sustain the herd. It does not encourage individual human greatness. Democracy is the bane of mankind, for it only enforces the will of the herd, the will of the masses, thus preventing the rise of an elite class of human, preventing the progress of the species to a higher level.
What he advocates is simple. It is also kinda bizarre. We are weak. There is poverty and destitution. So instead of sympathizing and languishing along with the greater part of humanity we must individually shun the weak and only associate with the powerful. Breeding must only take place with other powerful people. Love should not be allowed to result in childbirth, because love knows no rationality. Children so born out of the powerful should in turn be groomed through education and conditioning to even greater heights, thus becoming more noble than the preceding generation. The goal of Superman is a dream, a dream that should be fixed in the eyes and minds of everybody, excluding anything else.
A socially engineered path to creating an uber-human is what his religion is about. Yes he created a religion, out of thin air, the thin air of the Swiss Alps. ‘He conceived of man as something that man must surpass’ – Will Durant, The Story of Philosophy.
Nietzsche went mad in his mid forties, and died at fifty six. His work was largely disconnected and invited a lot of criticism, yet he succeeded in bringing a fresh perspective into established institutions and thought that had gone unquestioned for centuries.
And after the Superman? After the superman comes Eternal Recurrence. When everything will fall apart all over again and the whole progress of human thought will have to start once more form the primitive ages. This according to him is the ultimate and terrible truth.
Insane or what? And I ask that in all objectivity. And also, what a difficult name to spell eh..
Friday, May 22, 2009
Media Hogwash
Lost. That is what I am. Lost for words, lost in my dreams that render everything else insignificant, there is a despicable atmosphere of over marketed victory in the country. People individually are not the problem. But people collectively are.
The media is equally to blame. The nationalistic commentary on some media is positively vomit inducing. The government has obviously got to be behind it. Such corny fervor would not arise from any human brain other than one hell bent on control and a bullshit whitewash.
The new definitions of ‘race’; that of lovers of the nation and those that hate, are ambiguous and smell to me a like a harbinger of more oppression. Someone once said ‘dissent is the greatest form of patriotism’ and if not the greatest form, it is still a part and parcel of being a good patriot.
The greatest need for a ‘free nation’ is a free media. But the media here are cowed. They bow down to the will of the government; they are too scared to do their duty. There are rules and regulations preventing the broadcasting of certain events. That should actually be unconstitutional, these should actually be condemned, yet nothing is done. The justice system must be incapable of ensuring the rights of a free media movement, so does that mean the problem lies there?
These restrictions, whether spoken or unspoken, covert or otherwise, defy the essential values of the media movement, and therefore the media in the nation sadly does not amount to much.
Better to be deaf, than to have to listen to the hogwash in the media.
The media is equally to blame. The nationalistic commentary on some media is positively vomit inducing. The government has obviously got to be behind it. Such corny fervor would not arise from any human brain other than one hell bent on control and a bullshit whitewash.
The new definitions of ‘race’; that of lovers of the nation and those that hate, are ambiguous and smell to me a like a harbinger of more oppression. Someone once said ‘dissent is the greatest form of patriotism’ and if not the greatest form, it is still a part and parcel of being a good patriot.
The greatest need for a ‘free nation’ is a free media. But the media here are cowed. They bow down to the will of the government; they are too scared to do their duty. There are rules and regulations preventing the broadcasting of certain events. That should actually be unconstitutional, these should actually be condemned, yet nothing is done. The justice system must be incapable of ensuring the rights of a free media movement, so does that mean the problem lies there?
These restrictions, whether spoken or unspoken, covert or otherwise, defy the essential values of the media movement, and therefore the media in the nation sadly does not amount to much.
Better to be deaf, than to have to listen to the hogwash in the media.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Dee's Peece Zeitgeist
So DeeCee is planning on putting her production skillz to good use and is calling for all you blog narcissists and not so narcissists to submit your video's in for a 'capture the vibe of the moment' project.
There are right now easily around a million bemused twenty somethings awkwardly blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight of peace in this country and this is probably one of those things that only happen when a thirty year old war finishes really abruptly, which is not often.
So help her out with your video submissions and if you're shy you don't have to show your face. Just express your righteous love for the flower of power by showing a pair of rubber slipper clad feet and jean clad legs walking over a massive map of Sri Lanka and dabbling in the cool lagoon waters of Batti :D
Im gonna start working on mine right away.. hunting for ideas hmmm...
Go check out her blog post here. for the nitty gritties..
Peace!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Come to Sri Lanka, see our war crimes.
So the EU wants to organize a tribunal thingamajig to investigate civilian deaths not only by the hands of the tigers but also by the hands of the government. Well, here's a thing or two for you to consider Mr. EU bigwig. We never claimed the LTTE posessed nukes, and we never used falsities like that as an excuse to indiscriminately kill people. We never bombed no wedding parties and killed whole families just because we suspected the bride's fifth cousin by marriage to have a nephew who once was possibly in the same building as Osama Bin Laden. Sure we don't have a lot of clout in the international arena, unlike some people, but we are human beings too, and therefore equipped with brains capable of intelligence to a certain degree, and your self righteous hypocrisy and cowardice is painfully obvious, even to us.
Why don't you bring down Bush to the Hague and try him for war crimes instead of letting him peacefully sit in his ranch watching his cows piss into the drying desert sand? Why don't you investigate all the accusations of torture and disappearing tourists instead of trying to poke your nose in places you are not wanted? Why don't you investigate the atrocities on the Gaza strip and the audacity of the Israeli's claim of being able to use precision bombing with the ability to target a single insurgent within one million civillians right before they demolish the UN office in an aerial attack (oops)? Come Mr. EU bigwig, we all know who lubes your ass every night.
But you know what we also know? we know your threats are empty. Oh yes Mr. Bigwig, we know the game you play. Its been played for a long long time and we are familiar with the rules. The first rule is there are no rules. Here's how it goes, you will use your clout to make us submit and you will proceed to own our asses. Yes you will secure the national resources and you will secure an 'open' economy and you will 'integrate us into the global arena'. And thank you very much we will too, 'cos maybe thats exactly what we need. Oh yes, you will try to bribe our leaders and if you cannot reach a compromise, you will roll us in the dirt and call us terrorists and rogues.
But you also know that this is not as easy as it used to be, oh no. You have competition now. And we have Iran on our side, and the Russians. Who aren't exactly on pally terms with you we notice. Also our geographical location puts us in an ideal position to take advantage of the regional economic boom, we only need to hope like hell our leaders will see these opportunities and grab them. Oh yes, we may eventually have to be owned by someone but at least now we've got options.
So come to Sri Lanka, try your luck. Here's the famous hospitable smile also =)
Why don't you bring down Bush to the Hague and try him for war crimes instead of letting him peacefully sit in his ranch watching his cows piss into the drying desert sand? Why don't you investigate all the accusations of torture and disappearing tourists instead of trying to poke your nose in places you are not wanted? Why don't you investigate the atrocities on the Gaza strip and the audacity of the Israeli's claim of being able to use precision bombing with the ability to target a single insurgent within one million civillians right before they demolish the UN office in an aerial attack (oops)? Come Mr. EU bigwig, we all know who lubes your ass every night.
But you know what we also know? we know your threats are empty. Oh yes Mr. Bigwig, we know the game you play. Its been played for a long long time and we are familiar with the rules. The first rule is there are no rules. Here's how it goes, you will use your clout to make us submit and you will proceed to own our asses. Yes you will secure the national resources and you will secure an 'open' economy and you will 'integrate us into the global arena'. And thank you very much we will too, 'cos maybe thats exactly what we need. Oh yes, you will try to bribe our leaders and if you cannot reach a compromise, you will roll us in the dirt and call us terrorists and rogues.
But you also know that this is not as easy as it used to be, oh no. You have competition now. And we have Iran on our side, and the Russians. Who aren't exactly on pally terms with you we notice. Also our geographical location puts us in an ideal position to take advantage of the regional economic boom, we only need to hope like hell our leaders will see these opportunities and grab them. Oh yes, we may eventually have to be owned by someone but at least now we've got options.
So come to Sri Lanka, try your luck. Here's the famous hospitable smile also =)
Friday, May 15, 2009
Defense report
May as well try an excercise to pull off a bit of a mental thread of meaning from my teeming head
As people die we wax lyrical on blogs but do we even try to stop the killing?
People are DYING and all we do is wax lyrical
lyrics so spherical you cant find an edge to grasp a bit of meaning
why write about things when you writing about it is not going to stop it
why not just ignore the deranged war of blood and flesh flying around faster than shrapnel
for writing about it devoids you of reason and accuses you of treason
woe be tide anyone who is against it
the dead are piling and no one who is on either side can stop it
we are in a place where people dying is a natural phenomenon of the ending of a conflict
they are bombed and they are ripped to shreds as propaganda attempts to weakly restore order
we over here are so eager for peace we don't really give a shit, if there is some 'mild' blood loss and disorder
The UN screams but they dont really seem to want to step in, lest they bury the sovereignity of this island
the EELAMIST bastards they just want a ceasefire to regroup, rethink and restore their battling order
the GOVERNMENT of tricksters, they are money twisters and yes im a critic
the morality we lived by is dead and in this carnage we are losing our soul to the devil, the devil, the devil.
the devil.
Nobody cares about the dead
not us not them not the UN, not really.
they are shelled and lost and struck a terrible revenge
for being at the wrong where, during the wrong when
Nobody really cares about stopping the dying
we are all utopians looking for a future of peace and loving
lets cast a grimace upon our healthy face
so that we can eventually have a hope of peace
Lets all go blogging and lets all write about politicking
the paining the gaining of winning
lets all take the topic and lets grind it and and wind it
now i dont mean to be a cynic but in this blood covered landscape, can we find it?
can we find it in a widow's dream?
can we find it in a mothers scream?
can we find it in the eyes of an orphan boy?
can we find it in the mournful songs of the days gone by?
where can we find it?
how can we find it?
what is peace?
where is it?
*yeah a little angst there.. call it a part of that license you're supposed to have when you write, and no offence to anyone writing about the war btw, writing about it is important, you should keep it up. This is mainly about the desperation of the IDPs. When it comes down to it, the situation right now is such that most parties/interest groups involved want it all to somehow finish. The plight of the dying seems to be a secondary concern. These are my sentiments, and i admit to feeling the same myself, which is sort of despicable isnt it?
As people die we wax lyrical on blogs but do we even try to stop the killing?
People are DYING and all we do is wax lyrical
lyrics so spherical you cant find an edge to grasp a bit of meaning
why write about things when you writing about it is not going to stop it
why not just ignore the deranged war of blood and flesh flying around faster than shrapnel
for writing about it devoids you of reason and accuses you of treason
woe be tide anyone who is against it
the dead are piling and no one who is on either side can stop it
we are in a place where people dying is a natural phenomenon of the ending of a conflict
they are bombed and they are ripped to shreds as propaganda attempts to weakly restore order
we over here are so eager for peace we don't really give a shit, if there is some 'mild' blood loss and disorder
The UN screams but they dont really seem to want to step in, lest they bury the sovereignity of this island
the EELAMIST bastards they just want a ceasefire to regroup, rethink and restore their battling order
the GOVERNMENT of tricksters, they are money twisters and yes im a critic
the morality we lived by is dead and in this carnage we are losing our soul to the devil, the devil, the devil.
the devil.
Nobody cares about the dead
not us not them not the UN, not really.
they are shelled and lost and struck a terrible revenge
for being at the wrong where, during the wrong when
Nobody really cares about stopping the dying
we are all utopians looking for a future of peace and loving
lets cast a grimace upon our healthy face
so that we can eventually have a hope of peace
Lets all go blogging and lets all write about politicking
the paining the gaining of winning
lets all take the topic and lets grind it and and wind it
now i dont mean to be a cynic but in this blood covered landscape, can we find it?
can we find it in a widow's dream?
can we find it in a mothers scream?
can we find it in the eyes of an orphan boy?
can we find it in the mournful songs of the days gone by?
where can we find it?
how can we find it?
what is peace?
where is it?
*yeah a little angst there.. call it a part of that license you're supposed to have when you write, and no offence to anyone writing about the war btw, writing about it is important, you should keep it up. This is mainly about the desperation of the IDPs. When it comes down to it, the situation right now is such that most parties/interest groups involved want it all to somehow finish. The plight of the dying seems to be a secondary concern. These are my sentiments, and i admit to feeling the same myself, which is sort of despicable isnt it?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Gangsta Rippin'
Many people have called me a 'poet'. And by many i mean about five. Many others have dismissed my 'poetry' as meaningless and many have meaninglessly referred to it as 'deep'. Still, many have speculated on the origins of my lyrical brilliance. Truth is it could be any one of the following.
1. Aliens implanting test chip in brain.
2. Accident involving Milton's Paradise Lost and a slippery floor. book ending up embedding itself in brain as a pshychological snapshot that morphed into a life of its own.
But i actually started off my 'career' writing gangsta rap when i was fourteen. And probably owe most of my poetic brilliance slash lameness to Eminem. That boisterous white boy who showed me how to be black and proud of it biatch! I wrote:
1. Aliens implanting test chip in brain.
2. Accident involving Milton's Paradise Lost and a slippery floor. book ending up embedding itself in brain as a pshychological snapshot that morphed into a life of its own.
But i actually started off my 'career' writing gangsta rap when i was fourteen. And probably owe most of my poetic brilliance slash lameness to Eminem. That boisterous white boy who showed me how to be black and proud of it biatch! I wrote:
yo!
yo yo yo!
my words are like a death toll
i make the nay saying bastards' heads roll
an apostrophy lost
my grammer is like pus
seeping through the wounds of my broken english
but i dont let it stop me i get stronger with it
yeah im a wordsmith, with a mcahine gun
i scare your pants off and i make you run
i make you scream and want to find your mum
i'll make your m**** F***in bleed from your ears son
Im a gangsta rapper
with the shock treatment unit
its me agianst the world baby
I ain got no regrets
this is a battlefield
and i slip and slide like James Bond on speed
Yeah..Uh huh..
Or Something similar..
Pretty soon, my gangsta walk and gangsta talk garnered me a lot of attention. And nick names. And there was that unfortunate incident where i was adding a bit of color to the national anthem during assembly and this guy laughed his head off and gave me away to a prefect, who then proceeded to yell at me very loudly. for a long time afterwards.
never liked them, prefects.
But not everybody was a playa hater. I had a few fellow artistes in my crew see. Although only one of them was a fellow rapper (most of the others used to sing Westlife) and him and me eventually formed this band called the Shock Treatment Unit.
A few performances on stage are also to my credit, as are a few audiences of bemused people. Although i never got a chance to actually really get down to some cold hard gangsta rap on stage. A pity.
Anyways, my gangsta rappin days are behind me, i hear you breath a sigh of relief, and an era of rhymes simply followed. Followed by a few kind people who felt my work was worthy a compliment or two. I kept writing more because of them and have found that a lot of interesting things that mostly take place in my head and would be inexplicable in plain everyday descriptive language can be expressed quite accurately in the throes of a few jumbled words.
And when i write stuff like;
A dead poem breathed new life into a vacuum with its last breathsSometimes even i can't figure out exactly what i mean.
it created pulses in the air with its dying heartbeats
the pulses became butterflies and created storms in far off places
changing many landscapes and changing many faces
the dying cries of the poem lost itself in the screaming wind
for now the storm of his heartbeats had come back to him
and he passed in peace within the matters of his own doing.
What more can a poem ask but immortality in the act of dying?
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