vodka shot glasses for pomegranate green tea and other such discoveries..

Yes, they can be used. Vodka shot glasses. Green tea. they go together. My mind is fragmented. My brain is shot. And while I occasionally scream to others who ask for advice -- deal with it, I’m struck by the notion, that there is nothing I want more than to not deal with my life.

I’ve been on holiday, lets admit it. Anybody out there (though there aren't that many) who have thought that some deep insight has occurred on these pages, or that I’m surviving, doing better. Here's a news flash. That was a holiday. Life is going to return to normal. Ergo .. panic button hit. Yoda talk. And only coherent thought being that in the chill rainy weather of Bangalore that eerily is like London a few months ago, I find myself wanting to take a bottle of Baileys, retire in a corner and drink it all up.

And if anything of cataclysmic proportions does happen with direct impact on my life (anything..earthquake destroying my beautiful new home for instance) I want to stick a flag out of my wabbit hole and say .. yeah, that's okay with me, whatever. and go back there.

The wabbit hole has L word, amy winehouse, random dates with restaurant reviews, men who lean over to open car doors and brush your bra-less boobs by accident (riiiiiiiiiight!!!), men who seriously by looking at you exchange the placement of your internal organs so there are pipes inside your body going -- where, where, where is that heart valve that I’m supposed to connect and transmit red blood and white blood cells to.

Someone staying in my house these days (the most gorgeous, beautiful, tall slinky woman) has a voice deeper than Marlon Brando when she tells me how plants should be taken care of, and squeals and hugs in the morning. she slides next to me, our bodies would make the best lesbian porn ever. And see... now that’s what I call a distracting train of thought that just absolutely makes up my wabbit hole.

There are no wormies in my wabbit hole. Am I an escapist right now? you betcha.. Do I not want to think of the consequences of my actions these days .. nope, honey. Do I want others to, while I flip out and make merry?

You betcha...
Welcome to my wabbit hole .. follow the fucked up wabbit.

there's more to the internet than L word on youtube

I live in a slightly scary world where synchronized breathing is a fetishized desire for atleast two people I know. Believe you me, it does strange things to your breathing pattern to know this.. for one it makes you aware of breathing in a way that two years of yoga hasn't done (even strange brahmin-ish men intoning -breathe iiiiiiinnnnn, breaaaathe oooouuuuuut). Secondly you do wonder if in some way you are not human or not capable of real connection. Because my breathing atleast never syncs with anyone; obviously I would never have made it to a water ballet team.

Anyway in the context of that piece of information this comic strip is hysterical. Its anal, snarky and synchronized. Yeah to those to whom form matters as much as person!!! Including my two friends.

And then there is blog trawling which I'm as addicted to as L word on youtube. So I find this test on a blog (but not just an annoying self-figuring-out test), called the Gender Genie that apparently scrubs the text (of all possible proper nouns) and on the basis of relational words such as conjunctions and the use of articles, determines the gender of the person.

Ofcourse my score when I dumped a poem of mine into the scary box, said
(Hmmmm...)
Male: 65
Female : 55
The author is male!!!

And when I put in a poem by a straight male poet it said
(Ahaaaaa... no androgyny here)
Female: 83
Male: 42
The author is female!!!!!

I'm thinking a simpler test like does the person talk a lot about shoes and haircuts and clothes would have been more effective.


ps: how does the tv handle so much mallika sherawat without imploding?

the secret desires of objects

How do you explain to people why you twist to look at their laptops, without seeming like a geek. What is it that you want to find apart from information about operating systems? How do you explain why you would be interested in computers, in the desktop, the arrangement of material, what goes where. the name of their new story. Now I know people whose laptops are the scariest manifestation of themselves, just to peek is to either violate a code or to enter a space where you're desired, or both.

I know men who precariously balance laptops on their naked crotches, and tilt it away so I can't see. This is the moment to smile and turn the other way and go to sleep. There was only one moment when sheer curiosity got too much and I clambered across the bed in a very ungraceful way for just one peek. and sighing deeply, slid into my designated corner of the bed.

I know men who twist their laptops towards me in a coffee shop where I feel the whole world behind me is watching .. this unfurling of intimacy that I can't really touch.

And then there is mine, in twisted paths there is nudity, flesh, words .. words..words..scattered. Words that confuse and lie, explore contradictions. Words that journey through and not just what came at the end. Songs, poems, stories. Delusional. Fictional. Real. My laptop slowly fell open these past few months, from the device behind multiple barricades that I feared would open my secrets suddenly and meanly, it has become a trusted friend, that reveals and tells as it wants and without fear.

And I know men and women whose computers are like locked devices, and those who even if they do fall open might as well have not. There's no intimate message, no moment, no photograph, no email, no chaos .. all there is is conventional intimacy martyred to the causes of necessity. No slyly slipping strap of a dress that reveals a wicked shoulder...as naked as before, but still more naked.

okay, i'm in love