What is with a persons looks that drives you up the wall man? We are all so concerned about the way we LOOK. i mean the way we look? wasn’t there anything else remotely important enough that we could have imagined to be so concerned about? like intelligence for example?
I was just going through the pictures in my office camera trying to find some pics i took of an outlet in the morning right. And when i get my hands on a public camera i rarely pass up the chance to look at all the pics everyone else has taken. i mean its a public camera right? you wouldn’t leave anything on there undeleted if it was private so what the hell. (a similar principle dictates that the best porn in net cafes are found in the PCs and not on the actual internet itself)
Anyways this chap at work who used it last, you know how people get when they have a camera and nothing to do but point and shoot at yourself right? so this chap is all gangsta poses and weird hand signals that apparently have 'meanings beyond comprehension of normal man', and every single picture of him, with anyone else or no had some sort of weirdly contorted hand signal and trying-hard-to-look-bad pose in it.
Now I’m not playa hating or trying to put tha man down, im only saying this cos thats what triggered this weird thought train in the first place, not that i haven’t thought about it before, but now i just felt like writing about it see.
It is a commonly known fact that when they look in the mirror, guys see something in addition to what’s really there and women see something less. That’s why no matter how beautiful she may be, if you complement a girl on her looks she'd blush and get all coy and surprised and you'll be wondering like; er.. what’s wrong with this one? doesn't she own a mirror?
If you complement a guy though, no matter how disproportionately challenged in the aesthetic department he may be, he'll just shrug it off and give a gruff thank you cos he knows see? its all just long overdue hero worship, finally SOMEONE has seen what he's been seeing all along! and it doesn’t surprise him either, cos the rest of em are too awed by his presence to actually venture a complement.
A guy will try out all sorts of poses in the bathroom mirror. He'll practice looking skeptical, he'll practice the i-know-what-you're-upto-but-im-gonna-leave-you-in-suspense-about-it look. he'll try out the gansta pose, the i-know-you're-checking-me-out-but-im-too-cool-to-look-your-way one (which is mostly constructed around an illusionary scenario generously created by his ego) he'll try and figure out what pose goes with what collection of clothes oh yeah baby he'll be ALL THAT man all that!
A girl on the other hand will fuss about with her make-up and take her time delicately rubbing cream and suchlike and wearing her clothes in gentle sweeps and will step out looking like a delicate little flower and look the bomb and be totally unaware of it. Yeah right? yeah i know, yeah right! She'll be aware of it, in a subconscious level, at least most of them will, but they won’t be sure about it. At least in most cases they won't. Some of them may feel insecure about it in a subconscious level but the bottom line is that they are more uncertain as a whole on the way they look
Such dangerous talk about women borders upon intellectual suicide for in my experience they are so volatile and unpredictable that they are akin to fresh dynamite on Guy Fawkes night, or Vesak take your pick. But i will carefully venture my hypothesis here.
A guy will walk in front of the mirror and even if he's the skinniest stick you ever saw, he'll puff his chest up and pull his stomach in and square his shoulders and leave the room thinking he is Arnold Schwarzenegger. Oh and he wont look at a reflection again unless he goes through the same routine, its like he changes reality for mental benefit, for he knows that afterall, life is a confidence game.
Ah what a delightfully complex creature we are! As for women, who knows what goes through their heads except possible schemes as to how to break that confidence and impose upon it some Khmer Rouge like autocratic dominance. Killing stray atoms of confidence like Pol Pot killed peasants.
How is this achieved? ah well that is another story altogether. More a story of voluntary slavery than anything else not to say that a decent defense is not put up in some cases. But i think i've already lost the thread of this one to a certain extent. So will stop
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Happy Trip
there was once a day
when they all smoked up and died
and then they went to heaven
in the inner reaches of their minds.
they floated among their neurons
on little sparks of light
they spoke with random electrons
on the definitions of wrong and right
they understood complex algorithms
and the continuity of space and time
they executed mind aerobics
that they were sure were one of a kind
they discovered their inner Einsteins
the analyses that Freud had missed
they saw the world like clockwork
and where every little part fit
they knew then at that moment
that true enlightenment had come
the ultimate truths of the universe
were a fingers breath away
to be slowly grasped and absorbed
to be digested one by one
But then the storm clouds gathered
and ambiguity spread
confusion and emotions arose
their high was almost dead!
they now had to fight
to keep the demons a' bay
they had to protect their wisdom
they had to safely take it away
across the dark of a black lake
to Earth, to home to mama's tea
where ignorance, fear and disbelief
swam and got in your way
when they all smoked up and died
and then they went to heaven
in the inner reaches of their minds.
they floated among their neurons
on little sparks of light
they spoke with random electrons
on the definitions of wrong and right
they understood complex algorithms
and the continuity of space and time
they executed mind aerobics
that they were sure were one of a kind
they discovered their inner Einsteins
the analyses that Freud had missed
they saw the world like clockwork
and where every little part fit
they knew then at that moment
that true enlightenment had come
the ultimate truths of the universe
were a fingers breath away
to be slowly grasped and absorbed
to be digested one by one
But then the storm clouds gathered
and ambiguity spread
confusion and emotions arose
their high was almost dead!
they now had to fight
to keep the demons a' bay
they had to protect their wisdom
they had to safely take it away
across the dark of a black lake
to Earth, to home to mama's tea
where ignorance, fear and disbelief
swam and got in your way
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Wolf who cried Who
In ancient China there was once a pack of hungry, starving wolves. These wolves lived on the edge of a village of WILF hunters, a curious pack of Chinese with deviant sexual tastes.
The winter stretched long and hard, it seemed as if not one but two winters had passed, the forest was barren and the trees had lost their luster, the food was scarce and even rabbits weren’t procreating as much as they were traditionally used to. In fact, the only people who were actually getting any were the villagers, But as for actual procreation, well that was on an all time low for the whole region.
The bum trap was laid on the ground. Sinister, black and covered with snow so its sinister blackness would not be visible. Two Paw Menace stepped lightly over it. He knew how to avoid a bum trap now, every wolf worth his full moon moan knew how to do that. Note that i said 'moan' and not 'howl' as wolves are normally accustomed to do. This is a morbid story with morbid people in it, and it's dabblings in the dark side of human and animal nature is positively horrible to behold. So be warned, graphic scenes await you.
Now Two Paw Menace (Two-Pee-Em for short) was a bit of a scallywag, and actually enjoyed screwing around with his fellows (as if the humans weren't doing enough already, his pack was often heard to grumble) now and then.
Meanwhile Who, the greatest WILF hunter of them all, was setting out for his mid-morning er, filler.
Who was the greatest WILF hunter of them all. He was big, he was brave, and he had an insatiable er, appetite. As a matter of fact, whenever any one asked a question such as 'Who was big?' 'Who was brave?' and 'Who had an insatiable er, appetite?' The invariable answer would be 'Who, that’s who'.
He was peculiarly set apart from his fellow villagers (and all other Chinese probably) in one aspect. Indeed, it was almost the source of his weird strength and obscene disposition. It was menacing and strong. It was horribly deformed and was adorned with the most frightening spikes and various gadgetry especially designed to inflict the most amount of pain possible. Who took his hunting seriously, and not many a wolf lived to tell the tale of an encounter with Who.
Who was the dread of all wolves high and low, big or small, fair or tawny. Who was the most menacingly morbid, painfully bleedingly insane Chinese villager of them all? Who, that’s who.
I'll let you figure out the rest.
(Hint) It goes something like this;
2PM cries out 'Who!' The rest rush to the rescue, find out he was screwing around again, and leave in disgust.
(X 2)
Who actually shows up, 2PM cries out 'WHO!' no one shows up. 2PM gets royally screwed.
The moral of the story: It doesn’t pay to be too cocky, even if you're a wolf.
The winter stretched long and hard, it seemed as if not one but two winters had passed, the forest was barren and the trees had lost their luster, the food was scarce and even rabbits weren’t procreating as much as they were traditionally used to. In fact, the only people who were actually getting any were the villagers, But as for actual procreation, well that was on an all time low for the whole region.
The bum trap was laid on the ground. Sinister, black and covered with snow so its sinister blackness would not be visible. Two Paw Menace stepped lightly over it. He knew how to avoid a bum trap now, every wolf worth his full moon moan knew how to do that. Note that i said 'moan' and not 'howl' as wolves are normally accustomed to do. This is a morbid story with morbid people in it, and it's dabblings in the dark side of human and animal nature is positively horrible to behold. So be warned, graphic scenes await you.
Now Two Paw Menace (Two-Pee-Em for short) was a bit of a scallywag, and actually enjoyed screwing around with his fellows (as if the humans weren't doing enough already, his pack was often heard to grumble) now and then.
Meanwhile Who, the greatest WILF hunter of them all, was setting out for his mid-morning er, filler.
Who was the greatest WILF hunter of them all. He was big, he was brave, and he had an insatiable er, appetite. As a matter of fact, whenever any one asked a question such as 'Who was big?' 'Who was brave?' and 'Who had an insatiable er, appetite?' The invariable answer would be 'Who, that’s who'.
He was peculiarly set apart from his fellow villagers (and all other Chinese probably) in one aspect. Indeed, it was almost the source of his weird strength and obscene disposition. It was menacing and strong. It was horribly deformed and was adorned with the most frightening spikes and various gadgetry especially designed to inflict the most amount of pain possible. Who took his hunting seriously, and not many a wolf lived to tell the tale of an encounter with Who.
Who was the dread of all wolves high and low, big or small, fair or tawny. Who was the most menacingly morbid, painfully bleedingly insane Chinese villager of them all? Who, that’s who.
I'll let you figure out the rest.
(Hint) It goes something like this;
2PM cries out 'Who!' The rest rush to the rescue, find out he was screwing around again, and leave in disgust.
(X 2)
Who actually shows up, 2PM cries out 'WHO!' no one shows up. 2PM gets royally screwed.
The moral of the story: It doesn’t pay to be too cocky, even if you're a wolf.
Monday, February 23, 2009
stop and talk a little men
Here, what are you doing?
no men, if i put this bottle full of water in the garden the cats won't come it seems
what? what kind of reasoning is that based on?
who knows men, next door uncle only told.
so is he going and putting it in his garden as well?
ya ya. and no cats at all it seems
what? really, hmm must tell dada to try and see
ya men tell tell, big problem with these cats, always coming and kakka fining and going
ya ya i know, the whole place stinks like nobody's business
hmm.
ok im going then, must go and water the plants also (must get away!)
ah ya ya havent rained also for ages no, aiyo i dont know WHAT is happening
some global heating or something they said in the news? who knows men. here here im going. getting late. i'll come ah?
ah ok ok go and come, go and come
no men, if i put this bottle full of water in the garden the cats won't come it seems
what? what kind of reasoning is that based on?
who knows men, next door uncle only told.
so is he going and putting it in his garden as well?
ya ya. and no cats at all it seems
what? really, hmm must tell dada to try and see
ya men tell tell, big problem with these cats, always coming and kakka fining and going
ya ya i know, the whole place stinks like nobody's business
hmm.
ok im going then, must go and water the plants also (must get away!)
ah ya ya havent rained also for ages no, aiyo i dont know WHAT is happening
some global heating or something they said in the news? who knows men. here here im going. getting late. i'll come ah?
ah ok ok go and come, go and come
Saturday, February 21, 2009
pornography, Lasantha and petrol
What happened to them? They all came up and several posts were written and major social unrest and discussion was caused and nothing happened afterwards.
There seem to be two 'sides' at the onset. The imposers and the resistors. The government and the public. But lines are mixed, and what may seem black and white is really various shades of grey, and without going too deep into the whole exchange of opinions and who is to be blamed for what point of view that is infusing society politically or otherwise it is pretty obvious that these are all just issues people discussed at one point, never resolved, got bored of and moved on from to the next.
Is hypocrisy to be blamed? but hypocrisy is everywhere. What happened to the whole porn thing anyway, the 'porn free' nationwide internet network that bordered on China like control of the web. Except the Chinese mostly cut down on the boring stuff like rebellious political thought.
Everybody talked about it, laughed about it, and now its gone. yet the topic of porn is one of the more lighter ones comparatively.
Lasantha's death on the other hand, sparked a furious outcry from all corners of the media, blogosphere and the general public. And it predictably died down as well. Where are the people who 'walked with Lasantha' on the day of his funeral now? Where are those who hailed it as an opportunity to show solidarity with his cause? What came of it? They may always say that nothing happened because I never turned up or more people never came, but still, some people went, and those people screamed in outrage. Screams which have died down now, just over a month after his tragic demise, with the traces of his killers nowhere near apparent.
Smoke on water.
And what about the Supreme Court and the prices of petrol? The initial order came to reduce the price of petrol to one hundred bucks and when that was chucked off into the rubbish bin there was an ultimatum that was never even considered and now even the tuk tuk guys have to go through so much of fuss for just four litres of cheap gas that they don’t give a hoot either. And they usually hoot all the time.
There seem to be two 'sides' at the onset. The imposers and the resistors. The government and the public. But lines are mixed, and what may seem black and white is really various shades of grey, and without going too deep into the whole exchange of opinions and who is to be blamed for what point of view that is infusing society politically or otherwise it is pretty obvious that these are all just issues people discussed at one point, never resolved, got bored of and moved on from to the next.
Is hypocrisy to be blamed? but hypocrisy is everywhere. What happened to the whole porn thing anyway, the 'porn free' nationwide internet network that bordered on China like control of the web. Except the Chinese mostly cut down on the boring stuff like rebellious political thought.
Everybody talked about it, laughed about it, and now its gone. yet the topic of porn is one of the more lighter ones comparatively.
Lasantha's death on the other hand, sparked a furious outcry from all corners of the media, blogosphere and the general public. And it predictably died down as well. Where are the people who 'walked with Lasantha' on the day of his funeral now? Where are those who hailed it as an opportunity to show solidarity with his cause? What came of it? They may always say that nothing happened because I never turned up or more people never came, but still, some people went, and those people screamed in outrage. Screams which have died down now, just over a month after his tragic demise, with the traces of his killers nowhere near apparent.
Smoke on water.
And what about the Supreme Court and the prices of petrol? The initial order came to reduce the price of petrol to one hundred bucks and when that was chucked off into the rubbish bin there was an ultimatum that was never even considered and now even the tuk tuk guys have to go through so much of fuss for just four litres of cheap gas that they don’t give a hoot either. And they usually hoot all the time.
Friday, February 20, 2009
this tagging bizniz
alright ive been tagged by mixed blessings. apparently she wants me to write down 25 things people dont know about me.
Thats kinda hard. oh wait, its actually 25 things few people know about me
1 my real name
2 Darth Vader is Lois Lane in Superman Returns who then changes back and absorbs the powers of the caped one (after seducing him) and defeats Luke Skywalker in a final battle spanning across several galaxies. my latest Star Wars script. im just about to send it off to George Lucas, wish me luck.
3 i am prone to many typsie tyopsd tyupos typos.
14 sometimes, whole sections of my blog posts strangely disappear
15 Im kinda bad at talking about myself directly
16 Clint Eastwood is epitomized coolness
17 i used to like Boyzone
18 i used to have a crush on Nancy Drew
19 i once spat in some chaps tea cos he was being an asshole
20 iv called people up live on tv and given them a bit of hell
21 i don't like hypocrites. but then again we are all hypocrites, even me. so it's not fair to judge
22 i think too many people act like they know too much while not knowing anything at all
23 i sometimes preach what i do not practice. but try to practice all the same.
24 i wonder whats gonna happen to all these blogs in a hundred years or so, will they still be around? like a fossilized remnant of an ancient culture?
25 i think people tke offense at far too many things because of confused societal norms that tell us that we should be feeling insulted at certain things. Maku's take on it here.
Thats kinda hard. oh wait, its actually 25 things few people know about me
1 my real name
2 Darth Vader is Lois Lane in Superman Returns who then changes back and absorbs the powers of the caped one (after seducing him) and defeats Luke Skywalker in a final battle spanning across several galaxies. my latest Star Wars script. im just about to send it off to George Lucas, wish me luck.
3 i am prone to many typsie tyopsd tyupos typos.
14 sometimes, whole sections of my blog posts strangely disappear
15 Im kinda bad at talking about myself directly
16 Clint Eastwood is epitomized coolness
17 i used to like Boyzone
18 i used to have a crush on Nancy Drew
19 i once spat in some chaps tea cos he was being an asshole
20 iv called people up live on tv and given them a bit of hell
21 i don't like hypocrites. but then again we are all hypocrites, even me. so it's not fair to judge
22 i think too many people act like they know too much while not knowing anything at all
23 i sometimes preach what i do not practice. but try to practice all the same.
24 i wonder whats gonna happen to all these blogs in a hundred years or so, will they still be around? like a fossilized remnant of an ancient culture?
25 i think people tke offense at far too many things because of confused societal norms that tell us that we should be feeling insulted at certain things. Maku's take on it here.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
a thing of beauty
i committed a crime that should not have been committed. i buzzed in her that which i did not buzz in me. I preached what i essentially, did not practice.
gosh, she looked beautiful tonight. long black hair, enshrining that beautiful black face. she was a beauty beyond compare. when she smiled and her teeth showed they showed in the most gorgeous curve ever seen by the eyes of man.
she had a different kind of beauty. although i am always attracted to the different ones. They are so unique and also so different from the usual bunch of maidens walking along the footpath by the stream.
They lurk in their own relaxed environments enjoying life, the world just seems to pass by them in beautiful silvery streaks, like the salmon jumping upstream in the glinting sunlight.
im using the word beautiful too much aren’t i?
gosh, she looked beautiful tonight. long black hair, enshrining that beautiful black face. she was a beauty beyond compare. when she smiled and her teeth showed they showed in the most gorgeous curve ever seen by the eyes of man.
she had a different kind of beauty. although i am always attracted to the different ones. They are so unique and also so different from the usual bunch of maidens walking along the footpath by the stream.
They lurk in their own relaxed environments enjoying life, the world just seems to pass by them in beautiful silvery streaks, like the salmon jumping upstream in the glinting sunlight.
im using the word beautiful too much aren’t i?
Irrationalia
'Man is a rational animal’?
Whoever said that definitely has NOT driven through the traffic ridden streets of Dehiwala in the morning whilst being terribly late to work. A manic paranoia that my boss will call at any moment now to ask for that presentation I promised to polish up first thing in the morning had my earpiece firmly planted to my ear. There is a sound of someone knocking on a door. And no don’t worry it's just my sms tone. NOT a 'visitor among us from the 'other side''. And for a wonder, the usual 'news alerts' seemed to have dried up of late as well and the sms was from an actual person! Guess there are not many people dying, major disasters happening or a lot of ass kissing going on at Temple Trees. (I’m pro Mahinder, no really, I am! What? No I’m NOT crossing my fingers…)
I was having breakfast calmly at home (already 10 minutes late to work) when I got the message.
‘Boss in office’
Yelp! What the hell is he doing at work so early anyways? Goddamn. I remember a call at 8.30 last night
'You can give it to me first thing in the morning no?'
I wanted to say NO! You shmuck I… NO!
But I said yes.
And I could’ve given it really, no problem.
Except I was late.
So I pretty much drove poor old Angie like a maniac.
With ridiculously random thoughts running through my mind like,
"Why does no one ever Work on Labor Day?"
"Why am I so fucking horny lately?"
"Why are the morning jokes on TNL so dumb?"
"Why do I chill the hell out every morning taking my own cool time only to be late to work?"
"Why the hell am I working here?"
And the mood teeters on the brink of depression;
"I’m not made for conventional work"
"Don’t want to be a regular worker bee"
"I see no point in it, I’m not happy with my work".
Sure, I’m happy with my job. Now that’s a different thing. At this point in my life and times this is probably the ideal job for me. For reasons I shall allow to remain mysteriously unrevealed. I suddenly realize how much I’m riding on my dreams. And I get that feeling. You know, the one you get when an alien mother ship is about to light beam you into the bowels of its mysterious insides? Utter helplessness and loss of control.
Dreams, hopes, whizzing AC busses, waving cops, wrong side of the road, glaring drivers, hurt pedestrians (feelings feelings! not physically hurt. I usually respect pedestrians, ‘cos we’re all pedestrians at one point or the other), huffed tuk tuk drivers, busting AC that I keep having to switch on and off.
Delusional truck drivers who insist on traveling in the fast lane when it’s so fucking obvious that there are faster things like cars and push bicycles whose drivers are tearing their nerves up in impatience behind them.
The urge to stop and literally, literally beat-up the guy in the idling Camry eating a cheese sandwich slowing me down to 20kmph is overwhelmed by the urge to beat the ticking clock.
Finally the old girl and I got to work.
And now I’m chilling out writing a blog post about all this.
Did the best I could with the presentation, though my boss is the type of deranged dude who’d be perfectly happy with it one moment and then go completely berserk because the font size and background color creates sensory overload in combination with that little picture sitting on the side. Screw the actual content of the thing; leave that to the business world. Over here, we’re into politicking.
Whoever said that definitely has NOT driven through the traffic ridden streets of Dehiwala in the morning whilst being terribly late to work. A manic paranoia that my boss will call at any moment now to ask for that presentation I promised to polish up first thing in the morning had my earpiece firmly planted to my ear. There is a sound of someone knocking on a door. And no don’t worry it's just my sms tone. NOT a 'visitor among us from the 'other side''. And for a wonder, the usual 'news alerts' seemed to have dried up of late as well and the sms was from an actual person! Guess there are not many people dying, major disasters happening or a lot of ass kissing going on at Temple Trees. (I’m pro Mahinder, no really, I am! What? No I’m NOT crossing my fingers…)
I was having breakfast calmly at home (already 10 minutes late to work) when I got the message.
‘Boss in office’
Yelp! What the hell is he doing at work so early anyways? Goddamn. I remember a call at 8.30 last night
'You can give it to me first thing in the morning no?'
I wanted to say NO! You shmuck I… NO!
But I said yes.
And I could’ve given it really, no problem.
Except I was late.
So I pretty much drove poor old Angie like a maniac.
With ridiculously random thoughts running through my mind like,
"Why does no one ever Work on Labor Day?"
"Why am I so fucking horny lately?"
"Why are the morning jokes on TNL so dumb?"
"Why do I chill the hell out every morning taking my own cool time only to be late to work?"
"Why the hell am I working here?"
And the mood teeters on the brink of depression;
"I’m not made for conventional work"
"Don’t want to be a regular worker bee"
"I see no point in it, I’m not happy with my work".
Sure, I’m happy with my job. Now that’s a different thing. At this point in my life and times this is probably the ideal job for me. For reasons I shall allow to remain mysteriously unrevealed. I suddenly realize how much I’m riding on my dreams. And I get that feeling. You know, the one you get when an alien mother ship is about to light beam you into the bowels of its mysterious insides? Utter helplessness and loss of control.
Dreams, hopes, whizzing AC busses, waving cops, wrong side of the road, glaring drivers, hurt pedestrians (feelings feelings! not physically hurt. I usually respect pedestrians, ‘cos we’re all pedestrians at one point or the other), huffed tuk tuk drivers, busting AC that I keep having to switch on and off.
Delusional truck drivers who insist on traveling in the fast lane when it’s so fucking obvious that there are faster things like cars and push bicycles whose drivers are tearing their nerves up in impatience behind them.
The urge to stop and literally, literally beat-up the guy in the idling Camry eating a cheese sandwich slowing me down to 20kmph is overwhelmed by the urge to beat the ticking clock.
Finally the old girl and I got to work.
And now I’m chilling out writing a blog post about all this.
Did the best I could with the presentation, though my boss is the type of deranged dude who’d be perfectly happy with it one moment and then go completely berserk because the font size and background color creates sensory overload in combination with that little picture sitting on the side. Screw the actual content of the thing; leave that to the business world. Over here, we’re into politicking.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
dream unto freedom
sometimes we all get those days when we say
'screw the world!'
and we go on our way
no more bosses
no more jobs
we'll all live in the streets,
with our plain teas and Gold Leafs
the sea will be our hang out
the breeze will be our drug.
civilization is a human constuct
enslaving us,
at the hands of our own ignorance
is advancement achievement?
is it worth all the fuss?
what is worth tying ourselves up
to a pole of thorns
to be beaten and eaten
by corporate norms
i am Prometheus!
let me be free
leave me alone
you eagle of corporate greed!
'screw the world!'
and we go on our way
no more bosses
no more jobs
we'll all live in the streets,
with our plain teas and Gold Leafs
the sea will be our hang out
the breeze will be our drug.
civilization is a human constuct
enslaving us,
at the hands of our own ignorance
is advancement achievement?
is it worth all the fuss?
what is worth tying ourselves up
to a pole of thorns
to be beaten and eaten
by corporate norms
i am Prometheus!
let me be free
leave me alone
you eagle of corporate greed!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Chapter One: Colombo University
On the moons of the gas giant Kalderon in the Greeckganss star system, a tiny part of the vast phosphorescent glow on the edge of the galaxy that is the Scarcity Nebula (named so because the chap who discovered it was heavily scarce in terms of imaginative names), a hothead rose form the ashes of the body that was his late fathers.
His father was late for many reasons but one thing that he could not help being late for was birth of his own son. He didn't know much about his father yet, that would have to wait until the seeds of his creation amulgamated in his head to form a brain capable of unlocking the mental capacity of his forefathers, stored in the ashes of their passing and passed on to the rising new generation. He could count himself lucky the air was still, he could probably look forward to a fully functioning brain in a couple of centuries.
Wind activity, indeed, is greatly attributed to the demise of the Hotheads' once brilliant intellectual capacity, it was a wonder in itself that they had evolved intelligent brains at all, given the fragile dependence on still weather for successful and prosperous offspring. The ochre stillness of the upper reaches of their scorching atmosphere may have helped, and most expecting hotheads took a veritocraft to the birthing platform on click 45.
Giving birth in itself was not easy, it was like going supernova, but you couldn't go all wild and scream in defiant rage and anger (like they did in the cinegraphs) and actually try to enjoy spontaneous implosion, no you had to painstakingly ensure that every single molecule of yours was safely within the two metre radius required for healthy offspring (as per Dr. Mopod Greandalupus - Modern Parenting; Fire it up With Care).
No one actually knew if giving birth was tough. The various cinegraphs depicting scenes of death/birth potrayed various versions of it. Some heroic and brave, others painful, some simply ecstatic. But each hothead found out for its own in the end. The various training courses and self help programmes giving all sorts of advice never really prepared you, and you were always nervous during the last days. There was no such thing called a peaceful death on Meepus. It was the most important moment of your life.
This hothead looked around, it breathed in the trepid, thick, almost slimy air of click 45. The birthing platform was hot. Approximately 6000 degrees. He felt cold though, and confused. he may have felt alone if he knew what alone felt like, but he didn't. He was a mere baby. It would take him at least another one hundred Kalderon years to learn to talk coherently.
There was a whizzing noise. The wormhole opened up right behind him. Some ash, not yet properly formed on the right side of his head, blew away. If he'd been listening, he'd have heard distant voices from the other end of space screaming the following;
'Jayasinghe, shut that thing off!'
'I can't sir, it's stuck!'
'You moron, i told you not to mess with.. what in Gods name is that?
'Some kind of lunar being sir'
'Which moon?'
'M-m-meepus 45 sir'
'Meepus for.. WHAT?
Youdickhead! Its moving! Ohnoohnoohnooo Professor Gunasinghe is gonnakillme'!
'Sir, its reaching for the wormhole!! what do i do sir? sir? SIR!!.....fuck.
***
Chapter 2 anyone? Rules: continue the story, link back to the previous chapters. You can make anything you want to happen, happen. Tag one person to continue it.
okay, Tag; Jerry. I cant wait.
His father was late for many reasons but one thing that he could not help being late for was birth of his own son. He didn't know much about his father yet, that would have to wait until the seeds of his creation amulgamated in his head to form a brain capable of unlocking the mental capacity of his forefathers, stored in the ashes of their passing and passed on to the rising new generation. He could count himself lucky the air was still, he could probably look forward to a fully functioning brain in a couple of centuries.
Wind activity, indeed, is greatly attributed to the demise of the Hotheads' once brilliant intellectual capacity, it was a wonder in itself that they had evolved intelligent brains at all, given the fragile dependence on still weather for successful and prosperous offspring. The ochre stillness of the upper reaches of their scorching atmosphere may have helped, and most expecting hotheads took a veritocraft to the birthing platform on click 45.
Giving birth in itself was not easy, it was like going supernova, but you couldn't go all wild and scream in defiant rage and anger (like they did in the cinegraphs) and actually try to enjoy spontaneous implosion, no you had to painstakingly ensure that every single molecule of yours was safely within the two metre radius required for healthy offspring (as per Dr. Mopod Greandalupus - Modern Parenting; Fire it up With Care).
No one actually knew if giving birth was tough. The various cinegraphs depicting scenes of death/birth potrayed various versions of it. Some heroic and brave, others painful, some simply ecstatic. But each hothead found out for its own in the end. The various training courses and self help programmes giving all sorts of advice never really prepared you, and you were always nervous during the last days. There was no such thing called a peaceful death on Meepus. It was the most important moment of your life.
This hothead looked around, it breathed in the trepid, thick, almost slimy air of click 45. The birthing platform was hot. Approximately 6000 degrees. He felt cold though, and confused. he may have felt alone if he knew what alone felt like, but he didn't. He was a mere baby. It would take him at least another one hundred Kalderon years to learn to talk coherently.
There was a whizzing noise. The wormhole opened up right behind him. Some ash, not yet properly formed on the right side of his head, blew away. If he'd been listening, he'd have heard distant voices from the other end of space screaming the following;
'Jayasinghe, shut that thing off!'
'I can't sir, it's stuck!'
'You moron, i told you not to mess with.. what in Gods name is that?
'Some kind of lunar being sir'
'Which moon?'
'M-m-meepus 45 sir'
'Meepus for.. WHAT?
Youdickhead! Its moving! Ohnoohnoohnooo Professor Gunasinghe is gonnakillme'!
'Sir, its reaching for the wormhole!! what do i do sir? sir? SIR!!.....fuck.
***
Chapter 2 anyone? Rules: continue the story, link back to the previous chapters. You can make anything you want to happen, happen. Tag one person to continue it.
okay, Tag; Jerry. I cant wait.
Monday, February 16, 2009
one line errs
person1: whats the big bang theory? oh wait, is that a porn movie?
person2: You're not exactly the planetary geographical type of person are you.
person2: You're not exactly the planetary geographical type of person are you.
Help! i am running out of controversial topics!
So 'tis another Monday. Ah! yesterday night was a bittersweet mix of half a movie, you tube, a couple of cigarettes and an overwhelming dread of today. You can always tell when you actually start being a 'slave' to the system when you start dreading Mondays. When i was in school, most Sunday nights lost their whole flavor cos i was stuck in contemplation of the early morning crispiness i'd be invariably (and forcibly) woken upto.
The weekend was alright. I am feeling kind of placid of late. There was a Bachelor's thing on Saturday. I turned up a bit late, but then most of the others were even later. It was the usual crowd, though some of them couldnt make it. Jerry magnanimously decided to grace us with his presence as well.
So Jerry being Jerry, we couldn't (or rather i couldnt) simply welcome him with a handshake and a few hearty words. So we're sitting on the beach right and Jerry calls MP on the phone, I pick it up
'Hi Machang'
J: Hey man, im here
'What? you're on the beach?'
At this moment i see a dude, kinda heavy set, on the phone, near a boat, hmmm, im used to expecting people to look totally different to how i imagine them. The sly Demon of Prank Playing piped up a bit.
'Ah ya man i see you, turn around'
he turns around.
'walk four steps forward'
he walks a few steps in a diagonal direction
'No no u bugger turn around' he turns around.
'Now walk towards the boat'
Now he's standing right next to the boat again right, almost humping it.
(feigning irritation) 'Dude! turn around! We're right here!'
He turns around and sees about four guys sitting at a table, with a vacant seat. Jerry slides in and sits down without a word. Blending in smoothly.
Except it wasnt us he was sitting with. He'd gone and sat down with some TOTALLY different people and was just sitting there watching them talk. See, i had cleverly manipulated him into thinking we were sitting there. So now we're all having a good laugh at poor old Jerry's expense who is sitting at a table with four strangers, who barely seemed to notice him. Probably too drunk eh.
Except that it wasnt Jerry.
See, i had to go over eventually rescue the bugger right, so i go over to the table and im like; 'Jerry! Dude we're sitting THERE!'
I am met with a blank stare so confused that it wouldn't have looked out of place on Mervin Silva confronted with a legal document.
'Machang we're over here you bugger, you missed the table.' More silence and confusion. The rest of the guys at the table he was sitting at still dont notice anything out of place. I'm wondering what the hell they were stoned on.
'You ARE Jerry right?'
' er no'.
What? screams my mind. Im feeling slightly shocked. This chap did almost exactly the same things i asked the real Jerry to do over the phone! damn, what the night, the beach and a bit of herbs eh.
Ah ok.
So now i'm wondering who the real Jerry was and where the hell i had him turning around in circles at. That, as it turned out, was a totally different story full of thrilling danger, deserted streets, 'empty' gates and water balloons which probably warrants a post of its own.
The weekend was alright. I am feeling kind of placid of late. There was a Bachelor's thing on Saturday. I turned up a bit late, but then most of the others were even later. It was the usual crowd, though some of them couldnt make it. Jerry magnanimously decided to grace us with his presence as well.
So Jerry being Jerry, we couldn't (or rather i couldnt) simply welcome him with a handshake and a few hearty words. So we're sitting on the beach right and Jerry calls MP on the phone, I pick it up
'Hi Machang'
J: Hey man, im here
'What? you're on the beach?'
At this moment i see a dude, kinda heavy set, on the phone, near a boat, hmmm, im used to expecting people to look totally different to how i imagine them. The sly Demon of Prank Playing piped up a bit.
'Ah ya man i see you, turn around'
he turns around.
'walk four steps forward'
he walks a few steps in a diagonal direction
'No no u bugger turn around' he turns around.
'Now walk towards the boat'
Now he's standing right next to the boat again right, almost humping it.
(feigning irritation) 'Dude! turn around! We're right here!'
He turns around and sees about four guys sitting at a table, with a vacant seat. Jerry slides in and sits down without a word. Blending in smoothly.
Except it wasnt us he was sitting with. He'd gone and sat down with some TOTALLY different people and was just sitting there watching them talk. See, i had cleverly manipulated him into thinking we were sitting there. So now we're all having a good laugh at poor old Jerry's expense who is sitting at a table with four strangers, who barely seemed to notice him. Probably too drunk eh.
Except that it wasnt Jerry.
See, i had to go over eventually rescue the bugger right, so i go over to the table and im like; 'Jerry! Dude we're sitting THERE!'
I am met with a blank stare so confused that it wouldn't have looked out of place on Mervin Silva confronted with a legal document.
'Machang we're over here you bugger, you missed the table.' More silence and confusion. The rest of the guys at the table he was sitting at still dont notice anything out of place. I'm wondering what the hell they were stoned on.
'You ARE Jerry right?'
' er no'.
What? screams my mind. Im feeling slightly shocked. This chap did almost exactly the same things i asked the real Jerry to do over the phone! damn, what the night, the beach and a bit of herbs eh.
Ah ok.
So now i'm wondering who the real Jerry was and where the hell i had him turning around in circles at. That, as it turned out, was a totally different story full of thrilling danger, deserted streets, 'empty' gates and water balloons which probably warrants a post of its own.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
swans
wondering wondering
thinking if you'll see
the dirty little devil
hiding inside of me
thinking im now
cos iv only got
thirteen left
and no more will i have until you rest
Its down to twelve now
and the mercy is dying out
no more respite for stupid comments
no more tolerance for surreal poetry
a romantic song on a sunday night
strangely drives away the beasts of hell
the sleeping nights
are welcomed by the drift of daylight
out
let us in
light it up
in a smoky darkness
purple clouds
swans silhouette
thinking if you'll see
the dirty little devil
hiding inside of me
thinking im now
cos iv only got
thirteen left
and no more will i have until you rest
Its down to twelve now
and the mercy is dying out
no more respite for stupid comments
no more tolerance for surreal poetry
a romantic song on a sunday night
strangely drives away the beasts of hell
the sleeping nights
are welcomed by the drift of daylight
out
let us in
light it up
in a smoky darkness
purple clouds
swans silhouette
Friday, February 13, 2009
Entranced
trying and failing man, im tryin and failing, i just cant get rid of this song.
why not we drift away and dieeeeeee-aaayyyyyyyy?
our dreams are constructed by those that deprive us of the dreams that are needed for their own needs. they will see if there are any needs that need to be fulfilled that will eventually turn out to be in the preference of the marching channels of tap water in the freezer who were transported to a different dimension in the place of rest in which they lagged and called it home.
the flow is uninterrupted the yeast of the grunting monster id is the freudian equivalent of the ultimate lie. the ultimate lie he gave us it seems is his creation of the id.
trippin? yes im trippin im trippin on grey goose tails and gun metal grey cars with winsheild wipers that actually work the younger cousins of the tree bearing monsters of the gallow marches will walk alongside the yeammering robots of the yellow tree jungles.
that was foretold in ancient texts that which was held true by none ther than the gunners of arsenal in the squad that fired thierry henry through unscrupulously underhanded methods.
the conspiracy tired and did not light up as expected and there were no thoughts conspired that were otherwise ignorant.
they were just real feelings on the emotions that possessed him at the moment he committed the act
when he beheaded her and he laid her in that position
so seductive
so beautiful
did he think that there would be hope for a tomorrow
a day that would never come as the guns of metal ring out in the distance
as the dogs bark and the sirens start swaying the waves of still night air
she was a beautiful one
he felt the slight tinge of regret
that still came to him from time to time
but this was the last one
he told hmself
this was the best one yet
this was
this was almost
almost like her.
he laid her bare
he kept a wisp of her hair
just to trace where
her head had been
so seductive
so rare
so infinitely mysterious
the red splotches creating a thing of beauty
in her lost little slumber
never to wake up to this land
of demunitive love
of fake sentiments
of faraway consciousness
the bared glory of her corpse came to decorate walls
as testament to her gorgeous struggles
her breasts of round niceness
would never wake up to the cold evening air
and now she would never know
the perils of life and despair.
it was a gift he'd given her
a swift death
of squirming mangaloose
of ecstatic euphoric love
a swift yet exciting
death.
why not we drift away and dieeeeeee-aaayyyyyyyy?
our dreams are constructed by those that deprive us of the dreams that are needed for their own needs. they will see if there are any needs that need to be fulfilled that will eventually turn out to be in the preference of the marching channels of tap water in the freezer who were transported to a different dimension in the place of rest in which they lagged and called it home.
the flow is uninterrupted the yeast of the grunting monster id is the freudian equivalent of the ultimate lie. the ultimate lie he gave us it seems is his creation of the id.
trippin? yes im trippin im trippin on grey goose tails and gun metal grey cars with winsheild wipers that actually work the younger cousins of the tree bearing monsters of the gallow marches will walk alongside the yeammering robots of the yellow tree jungles.
that was foretold in ancient texts that which was held true by none ther than the gunners of arsenal in the squad that fired thierry henry through unscrupulously underhanded methods.
the conspiracy tired and did not light up as expected and there were no thoughts conspired that were otherwise ignorant.
they were just real feelings on the emotions that possessed him at the moment he committed the act
when he beheaded her and he laid her in that position
so seductive
so beautiful
did he think that there would be hope for a tomorrow
a day that would never come as the guns of metal ring out in the distance
as the dogs bark and the sirens start swaying the waves of still night air
she was a beautiful one
he felt the slight tinge of regret
that still came to him from time to time
but this was the last one
he told hmself
this was the best one yet
this was
this was almost
almost like her.
he laid her bare
he kept a wisp of her hair
just to trace where
her head had been
so seductive
so rare
so infinitely mysterious
the red splotches creating a thing of beauty
in her lost little slumber
never to wake up to this land
of demunitive love
of fake sentiments
of faraway consciousness
the bared glory of her corpse came to decorate walls
as testament to her gorgeous struggles
her breasts of round niceness
would never wake up to the cold evening air
and now she would never know
the perils of life and despair.
it was a gift he'd given her
a swift death
of squirming mangaloose
of ecstatic euphoric love
a swift yet exciting
death.
Talk
What is this?
It is a lie
it is an illusion
it is a ten rupee note.
A cigarette doesnt kill you!
Ok fine it does,
but imagine the cigarette
how would it be if someone sucked the life out of you
Through your arse?
Damn.
A matchstick's got it worse
In the great battle commanded by the cigarrette companies,
If the cigarettes are the soldiers (My grandson will get you motherfucker!!)
The matchsticks are the suicide bombers
The carder of efficient killers
Providing that initial burst of flame and killing themselves in the process.
The sparkers of battle.
contributors; % & * @ $ !
It is a lie
it is an illusion
it is a ten rupee note.
A cigarette doesnt kill you!
Ok fine it does,
but imagine the cigarette
how would it be if someone sucked the life out of you
Through your arse?
Damn.
A matchstick's got it worse
In the great battle commanded by the cigarrette companies,
If the cigarettes are the soldiers (My grandson will get you motherfucker!!)
The matchsticks are the suicide bombers
The carder of efficient killers
Providing that initial burst of flame and killing themselves in the process.
The sparkers of battle.
contributors; % & * @ $ !
Thursday, February 12, 2009
untitled
Resting on the haunches of fear beaten revenge, he had set out to accomplish something, yet he'd failed. he'd lost it at the last minute.
There she was, standing there. And as if a halo of light were shining down upon her, her head of raven hair was aglow, the strands hanging down on either side of her eyes and sweeping down behind her ears were pierced a reddish brown and seemed to emit an aura of light around her fair face.
He opened his eyes.
His room stared back.
He braced himself, took a deep breath. Life seemed so mudane just then.
There she was, standing there. And as if a halo of light were shining down upon her, her head of raven hair was aglow, the strands hanging down on either side of her eyes and sweeping down behind her ears were pierced a reddish brown and seemed to emit an aura of light around her fair face.
He opened his eyes.
His room stared back.
He braced himself, took a deep breath. Life seemed so mudane just then.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Some pictures
So I'v moved houses. Moved a week or so ago actually. On independence day. I'm gonna miss our old place close to Wadduwa. The beach was absolutely fantastic, and even orgasmic to some people. Anyways, took some pics to remember the place by, and to try and remember the crisp feel of the morning air on those occasions when I dragged myself for a run, followed by the tingling scary feel of pulsing adrenaline when those effing rabid dogs start chasing me. Reason enough to carry a stick and go. Last time i ran bare chested like a fisherman all the way past Blue Waters and beyond and sat on a log for a while, then waded in the water. Its funny, never actually went into the water all that much.
Here are some pictures of home (former home).
Here are some pictures of home (former home).
one of numerous paths to the beach
south
north
South again
no, not my house
the glorious water, bathing spots are further south though
if you sit and close your eyes, the waves sound like they're lapping at your feet when they're a good 20 feet away
The railway tracks, there's a station at the end of that curve
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Muslim Boys
Now we all know that Muslim boys are hot. They have girlfriends before anyone else in school. As someone said on Dinidu's post, Muslims have sex a lot. They cant drink or smoke, so they have a lot of sex and reproduce accordingly, thereby furthering (and fathering), the secret, overall goal of expanding the population of Muslims in the country.
Now, the fact of the matter is, that Muslims, although permitted to have sex, cannot do it outside of marriage. Therefore they marry Sinhalese girls and then proceed to procreate with them. They then have the option of marrying even more Sinhalese girls, until they use up their full quota of four. By this method they drain the Sinhalese population of healthy women.
This strategy has been in place for a long time and is evidenced by the large disparity between the numbers of the original Muslim traders who floated in from the Mid East (who were mostly male) and the numbers of Muslims around in Sri Lanka today. It is territorial warfare with different weapons. They are even being hailed as the biggest threat to the Sinhala nation by individuals with social foresight.
And why are Muslim boys so hot? Well that may have something to do with their stud-like reputation. Being permitted to marry four ladies at once creates somewhat of an uber-male-ish aura about them, it makes them look daunting, highly sexually charged, gruff and in-your-face-biatch you know? a real bad boy. and chicks dig bad boys, they go jelly kneed at the sight of them. we all know this.
Now, the fact of the matter is, that Muslims, although permitted to have sex, cannot do it outside of marriage. Therefore they marry Sinhalese girls and then proceed to procreate with them. They then have the option of marrying even more Sinhalese girls, until they use up their full quota of four. By this method they drain the Sinhalese population of healthy women.
This strategy has been in place for a long time and is evidenced by the large disparity between the numbers of the original Muslim traders who floated in from the Mid East (who were mostly male) and the numbers of Muslims around in Sri Lanka today. It is territorial warfare with different weapons. They are even being hailed as the biggest threat to the Sinhala nation by individuals with social foresight.
And why are Muslim boys so hot? Well that may have something to do with their stud-like reputation. Being permitted to marry four ladies at once creates somewhat of an uber-male-ish aura about them, it makes them look daunting, highly sexually charged, gruff and in-your-face-biatch you know? a real bad boy. and chicks dig bad boys, they go jelly kneed at the sight of them. we all know this.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Crazy ideas
Pop into my head only to be considered and wantonly desregarded,.
Jump off the building - whenever i go out onto the balcony on the 7th floor where i work, and see all the vehicles on the road below looking like dinky toys and shit, i get this overwhelming urge to JUMP! Jump jump jump. But i never jump. if i ever disappear from the scene, then here's one probable cause of it that i just told you.
Break my bottle of water and stab the guy standing at the next workstation in the stomach. Nah, my bottle is irreplaceable. and the guy standing next to me is a nice chap. But i want to feel some blood splattering on my hands. All over my white t-shirt, i want to feel the jagged glass slicing into soft flabby stomach, i want to twist it and see the slimy intestine falling out. aarrgh!
Take the reciever of my phone and smash it. no not really, too boring and can't be bothered.
Stand up on my desk go yeah yeah yeah and air hump the... er well, just air hump. Wave my arm like i'm spankling someone. Nah. nothing like the real thing. as in nothing like real air and not this air-conditioned, continuously recycled crap.
Write a totally meaningless post on blog..
Publish said post without being afraid of people thinking you're a suicidal psychotic sexual deviant with a profound sense of disrespect for office furniture..
Keep post on blog without deleting it.
Jump off the building - whenever i go out onto the balcony on the 7th floor where i work, and see all the vehicles on the road below looking like dinky toys and shit, i get this overwhelming urge to JUMP! Jump jump jump. But i never jump. if i ever disappear from the scene, then here's one probable cause of it that i just told you.
Break my bottle of water and stab the guy standing at the next workstation in the stomach. Nah, my bottle is irreplaceable. and the guy standing next to me is a nice chap. But i want to feel some blood splattering on my hands. All over my white t-shirt, i want to feel the jagged glass slicing into soft flabby stomach, i want to twist it and see the slimy intestine falling out. aarrgh!
Take the reciever of my phone and smash it. no not really, too boring and can't be bothered.
Stand up on my desk go yeah yeah yeah and air hump the... er well, just air hump. Wave my arm like i'm spankling someone. Nah. nothing like the real thing. as in nothing like real air and not this air-conditioned, continuously recycled crap.
Write a totally meaningless post on blog..
Publish said post without being afraid of people thinking you're a suicidal psychotic sexual deviant with a profound sense of disrespect for office furniture..
Keep post on blog without deleting it.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
To be cool or not to be, Is that a question?
Ragamuffin maan ya! I’m just listening to this Apache Indian track called 'chok there'.It's alright. Now before this randomness takes over like the weeds have taken over half of Killinochchi I’ll try hard to get to the point.
What is Cool?
We are swamped down and bogged up with definitions of cool. Im walking to work today with my tattered gym bag on my shoulders right? and im thinking i need a new bag cos the one i have right now is ripped so much that the only thing holding it together is probably the dirt.
I was thinking of spending for an okayish Field bag, about 1.5k. A bit hardier than the regular stuff at Emperor (MC) so kind of worth the money. Then the back of my mind pipes up with the crazy notion of shelling out for an Adidas or a Nike instead. Subtle, black, 4k and as cool as a guy of my social standing can afford to get without pawning his left testicle. I dismissed the notion. After all, it's no point getting a bag like that and then going to just a regular gym right. People are gonna think you bought it off the World Market anyway.
But I am not averse to such extravagant purchases. There are some things that I feel the tendency to splash on. Shoes, some clothes maybe. Yes i am pretentious and part of therest of society wanna-be bunch. Let's get that out of the way.
But Hwhy?
Reading through my last paragraph, my eye fell on this definitive statement; "People are gonna think you bought it off the world market anyway"
People are gonna think.
Hmmm.
I mean would I want that bag if every Somey, Siri and Ratnapala at the gym had a svelte Adidas of their own? Or would I wanna go even higher up the market in search of commercial offerings in the sports bag market that probably exist but which i am not aware of like maybe Versace Sport? I am just postulating here. But I think Nike will cut it anywhere, I’ve always had a preference for Adidas though.
But coolness does not only relate to 'stuff'. it relates very heavily also to attitudes, who we hang out with and where we live. But location of residence doesn't matter that much when you're young. It’s your school that matters when you’re young.
You're safe in the cool-o-meter if you went to a 'leading school in Colombo' or an 'International School'. You're coated in a mysterious aura, which is also uber-cool, if you've 'studied abroad' as well. If you're doing you're higher studies, it’s always cool to say that you're 'down for the summer' or 'taking a winter vacation'. Local higher education has it's own cool-o-metrics and whatnot, differing between the different institutes and courses, but I can't properly put my finger on it cos i am myself embroiled in it, and will probably be heavily biased to my own coolness if i tried :D
Its uncool to put a nose in a smiley, a fact which I found out from Jerry’s blog. when Fallen most kindly pointed it out to him.
My last post was apparently cynical yet aloof-ishly cool, according to Makuluwo. Thank you for that by the way, I was trying really hard. You’ll find out why in the para after next.
Cool is a phenomenon of society, it’s tied to what we aspire to and want to be. It often hits hard into secret places of our consciousness, taps into things that we won't even admit to our closest friends that we like, or want. You can probably tell a lot about a man if you knew what he exactly thought was 'cool'.
It’s also cool to be cynical. It’s cool to be aloof. To hold yourself above the massess. to be different. Hell it’s even cool to be a social outcast, but not in an un-cool way of course.
Cool-ness is a universal concept. And like all universal concepts, you can’t really explain what it means until you immerse yourself in it. And this post probably didn't teach you anything about it anyway either.
Today's post brought to you by, the local (oligopolistic) supermarket industry, Gedara yamang.
What is Cool?
We are swamped down and bogged up with definitions of cool. Im walking to work today with my tattered gym bag on my shoulders right? and im thinking i need a new bag cos the one i have right now is ripped so much that the only thing holding it together is probably the dirt.
I was thinking of spending for an okayish Field bag, about 1.5k. A bit hardier than the regular stuff at Emperor (MC) so kind of worth the money. Then the back of my mind pipes up with the crazy notion of shelling out for an Adidas or a Nike instead. Subtle, black, 4k and as cool as a guy of my social standing can afford to get without pawning his left testicle. I dismissed the notion. After all, it's no point getting a bag like that and then going to just a regular gym right. People are gonna think you bought it off the World Market anyway.
But I am not averse to such extravagant purchases. There are some things that I feel the tendency to splash on. Shoes, some clothes maybe. Yes i am pretentious and part of the
But Hwhy?
Reading through my last paragraph, my eye fell on this definitive statement; "People are gonna think you bought it off the world market anyway"
People are gonna think.
Hmmm.
I mean would I want that bag if every Somey, Siri and Ratnapala at the gym had a svelte Adidas of their own? Or would I wanna go even higher up the market in search of commercial offerings in the sports bag market that probably exist but which i am not aware of like maybe Versace Sport? I am just postulating here. But I think Nike will cut it anywhere, I’ve always had a preference for Adidas though.
But coolness does not only relate to 'stuff'. it relates very heavily also to attitudes, who we hang out with and where we live. But location of residence doesn't matter that much when you're young. It’s your school that matters when you’re young.
You're safe in the cool-o-meter if you went to a 'leading school in Colombo' or an 'International School'. You're coated in a mysterious aura, which is also uber-cool, if you've 'studied abroad' as well. If you're doing you're higher studies, it’s always cool to say that you're 'down for the summer' or 'taking a winter vacation'. Local higher education has it's own cool-o-metrics and whatnot, differing between the different institutes and courses, but I can't properly put my finger on it cos i am myself embroiled in it, and will probably be heavily biased to my own coolness if i tried :D
Its uncool to put a nose in a smiley, a fact which I found out from Jerry’s blog. when Fallen most kindly pointed it out to him.
My last post was apparently cynical yet aloof-ishly cool, according to Makuluwo. Thank you for that by the way, I was trying really hard. You’ll find out why in the para after next.
Cool is a phenomenon of society, it’s tied to what we aspire to and want to be. It often hits hard into secret places of our consciousness, taps into things that we won't even admit to our closest friends that we like, or want. You can probably tell a lot about a man if you knew what he exactly thought was 'cool'.
It’s also cool to be cynical. It’s cool to be aloof. To hold yourself above the massess. to be different. Hell it’s even cool to be a social outcast, but not in an un-cool way of course.
Cool-ness is a universal concept. And like all universal concepts, you can’t really explain what it means until you immerse yourself in it. And this post probably didn't teach you anything about it anyway either.
Today's post brought to you by, the local (oligopolistic) supermarket industry, Gedara yamang.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Dependence Day
Inde-effing-pendence
Oh what a lovely feeling mate
To be free from the back benders
To be in control of your own fate
And as we come to the beginning
Of our most favorite day,
We find ourselves thinking
How am I independent today?
Am I free to fly?
Or do the laws of physics bind me?
Am I free to lie?
Or do the rules of ethics tie me?
Am I free to walk where I want
Am I free to say what I want in my independent land?
Am I free to hold in my hand
Am I free, head held high
Down the alleyways of Boralla
Is independence just slavery
Under a different master's norm?
The whip is still strong
But the hand wielding it is a dark brown
And it shakes the reigns from an invisible cart
From dawn till dusk till dawn
Oh what a lovely feeling mate
To be free from the back benders
To be in control of your own fate
And as we come to the beginning
Of our most favorite day,
We find ourselves thinking
How am I independent today?
Am I free to fly?
Or do the laws of physics bind me?
Am I free to lie?
Or do the rules of ethics tie me?
Am I free to walk where I want
Am I free to say what I want in my independent land?
Am I free to hold in my hand
A single grain of Northern sand?
Am I free, head held high
To practice my faith under no disguise?
Am I free to tell youThat you are wrong and i am right?
Am I free to walk alone
With a bulging wallet and my phoneDown the alleyways of Boralla
In the dead of night?
Am I free from crime and terror?
Of screaming mothers and desperate fathers
Am I free from working kids
Trying to feed their dying grannies
Is independence really freedom?
Have I just got it wrong?Is independence just slavery
Under a different master's norm?
The whip is still strong
But the hand wielding it is a dark brown
And it shakes the reigns from an invisible cart
From dawn till dusk till dawn
Monday, February 2, 2009
A Rational Argument
Today i was coming to work in the bus. And there was this little spat between the driver and a chap on a motorcycle. The bus stopped and the cycle chap walked up to the driver and they proceeded to argue. It was the usual flinging of bravado. All threatening and no real action. you know how it goes;
'hey shut up or im gonna hit you!'
'Who the f*ck are you to shut my mouth up you bugger? you shut up or im gonna f*cking hit you harder!'
'Hit me? your gonna f*cking hit me? do you know who you're messing with you garbage eating stray dog?
'Son of a bitch'
'HEY learn to talk to people okay? or im gonna smash you over the head you good for nothing piece of shit.'
'YOURE gonna hit me? so try, try u piece of stale bread, see if you can lay a finger.'
and then when its pretty apparnt they're heading nowehere,
'Okay fine fine so what do you want, what the f*ck do you want?'
What do I want? You tell me what you want, huh, little piece of money grubbing filth'
What? who the f*ck are you calling filth? Im gonna *whizza whizza blah blah mutter mutter whazza grinna guzza....*
And so it goes on, a battle of words. As far as i can discern, the objective seems to be to batter the other guy with strongly worded threats until he stops. The objective is to subdue him with the threat of a punch up, not a real punch up. Cos then the person who threatens harder would seem the one more eager to fight, even though he knows that fighting on the road in the middle of rush hour morning traffic will deifinitely mean getting punched up and spending time at the Police. Also losing the income from a whole day of running a bus or a days work. Which is no easy joke im told.
But of course, in an evenly matched situation, when nobody backs down, and nobody really feels it worthwhile to take things to the next level, shit can get a bit wild. Like in this post by Java Jones.
The bus guy and the cycle guy kept arguing until they both reached a level where each of their threats started cancelling out the others'. And with a final 'kariya!' and a 'huttho!' the cycle guy and we (the bus) buggered off, almost friends, but not quite.
Bus driver, to pal sitting next to him;
'Balapangko, munta giya rata, apine Sinhala'
'look at that bugger will you, acts like he owns the country, huh, we're the sinhalese'
That bike guy was a Muslim. And he was probably exchanging similar slurs with his friend. I didn't hear.
Are we built like this, always arguing in seemingly irrational ways about rational topics? or is the way we argue the way we are meant to do things as always, maybe the most indirect approaches are the most direct. Thought fodder for a monday morning.
'hey shut up or im gonna hit you!'
'Who the f*ck are you to shut my mouth up you bugger? you shut up or im gonna f*cking hit you harder!'
'Hit me? your gonna f*cking hit me? do you know who you're messing with you garbage eating stray dog?
'Son of a bitch'
'HEY learn to talk to people okay? or im gonna smash you over the head you good for nothing piece of shit.'
'YOURE gonna hit me? so try, try u piece of stale bread, see if you can lay a finger.'
and then when its pretty apparnt they're heading nowehere,
'Okay fine fine so what do you want, what the f*ck do you want?'
What do I want? You tell me what you want, huh, little piece of money grubbing filth'
What? who the f*ck are you calling filth? Im gonna *whizza whizza blah blah mutter mutter whazza grinna guzza....*
And so it goes on, a battle of words. As far as i can discern, the objective seems to be to batter the other guy with strongly worded threats until he stops. The objective is to subdue him with the threat of a punch up, not a real punch up. Cos then the person who threatens harder would seem the one more eager to fight, even though he knows that fighting on the road in the middle of rush hour morning traffic will deifinitely mean getting punched up and spending time at the Police. Also losing the income from a whole day of running a bus or a days work. Which is no easy joke im told.
But of course, in an evenly matched situation, when nobody backs down, and nobody really feels it worthwhile to take things to the next level, shit can get a bit wild. Like in this post by Java Jones.
The bus guy and the cycle guy kept arguing until they both reached a level where each of their threats started cancelling out the others'. And with a final 'kariya!' and a 'huttho!' the cycle guy and we (the bus) buggered off, almost friends, but not quite.
Bus driver, to pal sitting next to him;
'Balapangko, munta giya rata, apine Sinhala'
'look at that bugger will you, acts like he owns the country, huh, we're the sinhalese'
That bike guy was a Muslim. And he was probably exchanging similar slurs with his friend. I didn't hear.
Are we built like this, always arguing in seemingly irrational ways about rational topics? or is the way we argue the way we are meant to do things as always, maybe the most indirect approaches are the most direct. Thought fodder for a monday morning.
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