Sunday, January 27, 2013

A Sunday's start

Tense sleep; Dreamt more weird stuff, thought processes work ceaselessly which is annoying on days like these when all the body asks for is a prolonged phase of rest. Asking for rest was well deserved, since it - the body- had been employed through most of the day, towards cognitive, expressive and domestic facilities.

I dreamt about being picked for the school rugby team, where I was against a formidable and muscle packed opponent in the form of the defence forces. Though I have a general grievance against those guys, I could never imagine this sorta face off. Another dream followed, which saw me scrambling up the walls of my own home like a thief to evade this one girl M. Both dreams could be an overlap of my present situation with my past.

The day started with stepping out into Delhi cold at 4. Two cups of crappy coffee at Comesum followed, until the Delhi Metro suited into action, and then home. Heading to the office now, looking ahead to an eulogy to my days of unwholesome employment.

Right now my brain is forced to process a tsunami and Shahnaz Hussain, thanks to unintentional eavesdropping on the metro crowd. Can't wait to dart out and crawl into some dank place with lesser words - words have flowed like a rapidly melting glacier steam, of late, and for a while I could live without some. But peace is a bleak prospect in the day, as I myself have a lot to say, and the one who does so is in a mental state of anarchy.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Only if you could be

...Where I am at this moment

I displace yet again

A state of no mind. That is what sex brings. I enjoy it. I enjoy when I'm in that state, that is, which isn't exclusive to just sex, but also travel.
Yes, I'm travelling again. Displacing. Shuffling across boundaries, national ones this time.
I'm going to do something completely new this time. Its abhorred in my family, and my friends never talk about it either, yet I'm gonna do it. I know that the hills would love to hear my new beat.

It all goes with the old, as I also have plans to revisit the most amazing texts I've read in my life - mine. lol, kidding. These greats are outside the general public's liking, as the general public - one girl, and one uncle - has let me know; but if someone reads this blog regularly then they'll know which ones I could be talking about here, just like they know that I love them coz they read too much of my blog.

This is rewind into the "unadulterated" fun days. I'm not carrying any shady stuff this time. I just learnt that I forgot my cigars too, and the cannabis chutney. And the next coupla days being dry days across the nation, there will be no booze either. Good riddance. only if I could stop feeling envious of friends who've by now graduated to cocaine and ecstasy...

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Databasing Her

I walked into the server room. She led me. There was only one thought on my mind - if she would let me see her database schematics. Her database engine looks pretty amazing - robust and also secure; I would have to study that very close, a body of research work that nobody needs to know about, but just me; it's all top secret here, and I had to sign an NDA to get this close. I imagine that I could, later, gain access as an admin, with permission to execute INSERTs. Were an INSERT possible through, both - the usual interface, as well as the backend - then it'd be like a prayer answered.

I could keep making my COMMITs which she could always ROLLBACK; and I don't mind that. It is even possible that she might choose to (or agree to) revoke my privileges after a while, but I don't mind that either. I'm a hacker, and the hacker's mind is always keen on studying systems and making an exit (speaking for white hats, only).
Hackers are useful therapists, too.

Monday, January 21, 2013

This was always there

This was always in front of me. This, the new post editor on my blogging platform. It was 2 weeks back that I had it open, to continue with my life updates; live blogging, perhaps, on yet another drab evening I was having being social and blue-eyed. I've been vacillating between the two extremes of "social" and "unsocial" (or "socially-neutral" as I call it) in the meantime, but one thing persistent throughout has been an inability to find words to express all that and a laziness of general sorts (that is generally my biggest sin). It is on the 12th day that I write.
∞ ∞ ∞

I don't know where to begin with. 12 days back, I clicked the "New Post" button to start with a rant on estrogen - yes, the hormone, and how it has been spoiling my evenings.
Let me clarify that it has nothing to do with me. The hormone spills out elsewhere, geographically, then finds its conduit through aerial waves transmitted through a mesh of cell towers to finally manifest and be decoded back into the original voice signal on our cellphones. That, in turn, is matched by a spike in testosterone, that manifests itself in another voice signal that is encoded and sent back - words laced in wisdom, sarcasm, annoyance, animistic indicators, and gentle concern all at the same time, all glazed with a film of what we know as "manliness".
If it needs to be more obvious, them I'm talking about our fractured ways of courtship. I wouldn't mind it much, since I do none of it. But it indirectly affects my table tennis, and the pace, mood, and swing of these evenings when I'm with friends, which I can't tolerate.

Sex, it seems, has lost its biological definition, to be replaced by this one: a causality of sustained duplex transmission, INR3000 or more in talk-time, though not always guaranteed. One could get a good prostitute for that much, or probably two bad ones, or a bad one and a 2-month subscription to the internet to troll Reddit and 4chan to satisfy their 'other' needs that they generally seek in a relationship.
Prostitution, however, is banned here, but Reddit isn't - I've said enough. Spacedicks. What?

∞ ∞ ∞

I had a great phase of 4 days when I didn't even step outside. I was mainly in a blood enrichment process on the bed, misidentified as sleep. I was also reassessing my vitality indicators, misidentified as fapping. The present situation didn't allow me to delve on the magnetic field dependence of ultrasound attenuation, but I'm halfway happy about that, as it would've taken up considerable time.
In-between, I managed to add to my credit history, towards something that seems promising yet futile; sometimes I wonder how we could unthinkingly spend so much towards our lives and its sterile pursuits, while acting shrewd about supporting some orphan in Timbuktu, or an aquatic species in the Pacific, or the Wikimedia foundation.
∞ ∞ ∞

Wednesday, January 09, 2013

Let the day begin

Want: psychedelia stamps

Well, countries have been proud of their hallucinogenic plants at times. Here, I can identify: Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Chad (Republique du Tchad), Cuba, Poland, Switzerland (Helvetia is the female national personification of Switzerland, or "Helvetic Confederation"), Bermuda.

Pakistan, here, had its own dedication to Dhatura, a deliriant-poison plant. Dhatura is quite common in India as well (I believe they were in abundance during strolls in the fringes of SGNP in Mumbai), and I might be tempted to fill my pocket with a few seeds the next time I'm out messing myself among dense foliage.

Dhatura (genus Datura), is in fact, one of the most common psychoactive plant to be represented on world stamps. Here are some more (thx):

Japan (Nippon) feat. Seishu Hanaoka, a celebrated Edo-era doctor who prepared a general anesthetic, Tsusensan, using Datura as a base, and performed the first surgery under anesthetic in 1804.


St. Helena, nicknamed Lady's Petticoat


Remember this?

Common parenting practise across the northern plains of India.

photo ©Tanja Askani

Slave types

I hate interaction with the slave class (which covers 90% of the people I interact with). Let me clarify myself - I'm not talking about any particular group of people, but the slave-to-the-money class (a more appropriate term, if you choose to use so); the people who represent themselves as people, but are in fact collection booths with the aim to make the most of the next client. It's easy to notice them in their complete denial of their human qualities.

It could be that reading this one Hindu article on the legendary bookstores (and how/why our society lacks that concept) gave seed to this thought, and my personal experiences of the day - which left me with a bitter taste of "all of it" - sprouted the seed into a thought chain. But one thing to end the day with is lucidity of why I loathe being where and how I am, and an admission of cluelessness if this would ever see a solution. People are people, and worse when they choose to become [the above-mentioned] slaves.

Trip me or kill me!

Night journeys

Upto something new tonight. The mention of tonight itself is somewhat a new thing in my routine of late - usually at 02:52AM in the ongoing cycle, you would rather find me either vacillating between dirty dreaming and sleep, or snug asleep altogether.
The possession of a bed could be a reason. The unmotivation of my circles a second reason. The lack of a reason could be another. In the present, these hours give me little to do. Other reasons are bubbling up the mental broth, but I could be called lazy for stopping at three.

In the past I would've been tab-switching my way through the night; hot talking on forums; replying to emails, days of collaborative dalliance into technologies; not to forget the everyman's embarrassing admission of 'human body research presented through crude simplex virtual interfaces'. Plugged into music, GBs of unheard peer-influenced tracks. There would also be a book to accompany my night. And three awesome people to chat with, which - trust me - works better than caffeine (of which I never got a kick from, anyways). A lotta data packets moving back and forth at my behest. Memorable nights of discovery - from the birth of gmail to goatse. Nightly routines always brought out something original and/or intense.

To comment on now... wait, lemme catch my sleep first.

Monday, January 07, 2013

lust in translation

go searching for torrents and this...
(at least its more fun than matrimonial popups)
ओह आखिरकार कोई तो गरम और अश्लील मिला
चलो चैट करें ताकि हम दोनों चरम आनंद ले सकें :*
यह मेरा तुमसे वादा है
मैं इस समय अपने को छू रही हूँ और तुम्हारे बारे में सोच रही हूँ

OMFG how can somebody not <3 this girl looking for "गरम और अश्लील" guys and wants "चरम आनंद"!

Friday, January 04, 2013

A Third Death Alternative

Well, death isn't really on my top priority. But with the internets around, thoughts do switch really quick. So, dying...

There are already two poetic and awesome ways that I've thought of being 'disposed'. I'm not gonna detail on those.

Third one, imagined in this moment, makes it epic:
1. Build a 2m * 1m * 0.5m box of light-yet-sturdy wood, with a curved, broad base
2. Strap it with explosives
3. Drop the (my) body
4. Fill up the box with Old Monk rum
5. Set afire
6. Set afloat (on any water-body above the altitude of 2,000m)
7. Detonate
8. Last rites FTW!

For a box of the abovementioned size, occupying 1 cu.m. of volume, it'll take 1000L of Old Monk. But wait, my body probably occupies 80% of the volume, so we are reduced to a need of 200L. I'll expect my acquaintances to contribute a liter/each. That demands 200 friends. Well, making 200 friends seems an easy deal - I've already got at least a dozen, and I've not even started trying yet. It's also a relief to know that I need to befriend only that many people from this 10-billion strong pool of cursed, conceited, loathsome humanity. Good.