3v!L-Land

Ahhh, the back of my friggin head. No, not the hangover, willpower and a damn straight face took care of that one hours ago. This, and I've convinced myself medically, is related to the medulla oblongata. Because no matter how many times I've tried to karate-chop myself into unconsciousness, all that results is a resounding sensation of pain a few hours later. Sad, because I'd have liked it to take effect, like immediately. Not when I've bloody well changed my mind.

If at this point, as usual, you're questioning my motives, then, just as usual, fuck you. If not, then huzzah! Release the strippers! I know things here are taking a turn for the aged and the elderly, I'm sorry, but that's just the way things are I suppose. I'm growing older (so are you, by the way) and I don't like it one friggin bit. So I'll grumble till it goes away, or until the next metric volume of alcohol comes my way, whichever's earlier.

There are clubs, and then there are clubs! From the trashy, decripit ones with the 100-buck beers to the up-the-arse glam-holes where beer is too impure a spirit to be distributed. Then there are pubs, where I'd sooner sit my arse down, and sadly too few thereof. In the same way there's rock and there's rock 'n roll; you'd be excused for mixing the two up if you were born anywhere after 1985, or if you're a soulless materialist. God help you if you're both. This, incidentally, is reason #346 for my wanting to get the hell away from here. This place is ceasing to be everything it once was. It's as if the Boring Police is bearing down on this fine city of mine with an Iron Fist. Not to mention the actual fuzz, the ones that do exist, they're a fun lot aren't they?

Which brings me to cars. I love and am privileged to have something to do with them. So I'll be damned and enraged (yes, both) if any experience attached to them is even slightly hampered. So, the next time you're stuck behind some arsehole in a Honda City at a red light even though it's 1:00 a.m, do pull up and say hello... Though you should know that conversations (along with blogs, tabloid newspapers and M.S.Dhoni) have become increasingly difficult for me to tolerate thanks to my newfound occupation as a subeditor. I love my job and since practice makes perfect and blah de fucking blah, I can't help myself. It sucks. I've had to look over this piece of (what started out as) garbage before I clicked on 'publish'. Please, shoot me in the face with a .45 if I start to squirm when we talk next.

Lastly, Ninja Stars. There aren't any. That was just put there to confuse you and for poetic justice, and because I think they're rather cool. If anyone's got some and wants to spend a fun afternoon chucking them about, comment here, or give me a buzz.

"I'm going back to 505,
 If its a seven hour flight
 or a 45-minute drive.."
                                  - The Arctic Monkeys.

"Pardon me while I burst into flames,
I've had enough of the world and its people's mindless games,
Pardon me while I burn and rise above the flames,
Pardon me, pardon me, I'll never be the same."

                                                                             - Incubus.

Re-percussion, Repercussion, Reaper cousin, Rape a cushion - they all mean the same thing really. Each, in its own special form, is a way of describing how undeniably fucked you are, or could be if you pushed yourself. Well, except maybe the first one - it seems a bit... musical. A repercussion, however, is not a second drum solo, it is a bad result of something. Not a consequence - because those can be good. Repercussions are always baaaaad... Tap me on the knee with a small steel hammer and I will kick you in the nuts : Problem -> Repercussion.

You get the idea. Why "Pardon Me' up at the beginning? Because it is the ultimate expression of the repercussions that occur when you stuff yourself up your own arsehole. It represents the bucketloads of pointless angst we built up for no reason in our reckless adolescence, sometime halfway through whenever. I'm vague about when it was exactly, but all I know is that that song doesn't sound quite as uplifting anymore.

That's a good thing.

The last thing I need is to have to, every once in a week-or-so, explode for no apparent reason. There's easier ways to get high.. As much as I'd like to have been some years ago, I'm not crazy. In fact, I've become rather beige. It's probably for the better too - it makes life's serious shitpiles a whole lot more tolerable. If I'm going to have to be a tool and live among tools, I might as well adjust to it. It's times like this when I think of all the world's 45-year-olds who covered their eyes with a pair of hangover-blotting sunglasses and hoped that when they took them off, they'd be 21 again. I pity the fools.

So feel free, and this is highly conditional, to smack me upside the head if you see signs of me heading down that road. Make sure I ditch everything but the rock-n-roll, y'know. When I'm a-hundred-and-sixty-eleven-something, I'd like to feel just that - not pretend I'm 21 forever. 18-till-you-die? Perhaps I'll go back in time and kill you before your 19th birthday, just so you can be right.

:)

Thank you, Incubus. you pulled off some pretty slick shit back there, but I've got to head off now..

It's fuckin official, everything around me is deteriorating into some sick, sadistic state of de-evolution. Those of you who have ever watched the Super Mario Brothers (God bless Dennis Hopper) film from the '90s would understand this more clearly. The world is shrivelling up into one indistinguishable island and everyone seems to be thrilled about it. Why? what in the world do you think will come of this? Communal harmony? Not a goddamn chance.

Instead, this false hope of unity is shrouding the real catastrophe that's about to befall us all. Unbridled stupidity. Yes, the world is falling into mental recess. The brains aint getting smaller, just severely underutilized, that's all. I mean, they're still making jackass movies, people still think Mercedes makes good cars and countries still run on democracy? Whatever for?!?

For example, my father, just five minutes ago, stormed into my room and waved his hand around the air like a neanderthal at a rave. Quite rhythmic for a large person, actually. Although i stared at him in bewilderment, it was all a pretence, coz in the back of my incredibly advanced mind, the translation to this primitive communication made itself known. That's almost shameful. I'm one of them. He clearly said, "You stay your ass in this filthy shithole of a bedroom till it ceases to be a filthy shithole." and what appeared to be "How does chicken sound for dinner? hmm?" Indeed.

Fuck you two times, Paris Hilton, for being unaccesibly hot and rich and famous and for convincing half the world's girls to use only an eighteenth of their brain, you jetsetting whore! It makes me cringe, really, it does. Ok, if you were born a dumbass, and then dropped square on your head several times as a child and adult, fair enough, power to you, you're retarded for damn sure! But the rest of you, is there something powerful enough to make you give up your god-given knowledge, common sense, and expensive education? There's better ways to get laid.

At this point it isn't the just the ladies, it's the men, dogs, elderly, unfortunate, one and fucking all. I can see everyone working up their defenses right about now, looking desperately for someone to agree with them, thereby outnumbering me. "Even though we don't make a shred of sense, we can't both be wrong..." Isn't that the plan? Wouldn't that make you smarter? That you're sharing a brain with someone else just to prove a point? You imbeciles!

We've all been desensitized by TV, it's the truth. That small 4:3 (or 16:9, you LCD showoffs) neon surface is responsible for so many of the world's problems, it isn't funny. Note, now, that i will never stop watching TV for having written this. I'm not George Clooney. I don't drive a Hybrid, I didn't make Syriana. I'm not the least bit smug. I've been put here to suck this planet dry of everything it could possibly offer me. Eventually I'll die, with a fat smile on my face too.

Most importantly, though, I know i'll die extremely fucking wise, simply coz i'm paying attention. What scares me is that not many people will be able to say the same. It doesn't have to be this way though. Everyone owes it to their pitiful selves to at least make a goddamn effort. We're a generation that was born falling into a pit, on a downhill spiral that's not easy to break away from. With every passing year, kids get more and more spoilt, and therefore more numb in the head. Who would want to break away from that? Reality, then, comes as one huge kick in the gons, and for the most unfortunate, doesn't come at all. They live and die a fantasy.

And about the whole communal harmony jazz at the beginning, I'm not trying to solve the world's problems, they aren't worth my concern, I'm just reminding you that it's a lost cause, so do yourself a favour and fuck it. Sounds a wee bit selfish, no? Certainly does to me. Which is why it works best. You owe it to your pathetic self.

"You can't always get what you want,
 But if you try sometimes,
 You just might find,
 You get what you need."
                      - Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones

Ageing has never gone easy on me. Birthday's never held near as much mirth for me as most others' did for them. Quarter-life crisis kicked in at.... oh about 8. I'm surprised i wasn't addicted to crack or something. Exaggerations aside, I've always hated growing older. While i'm sure most people look forward to the prospect of moving ahead in life with a greater knowledge/experience-base backing them up and what not, I opine otherwise. Yea yea, all well and good, "look at me, i'm so much wiser now that male pattern baldness has kicked in", whatever puts a smile on your prematurely-35-year-old face. Well, truth be told you are, god knows I am (wiser than you). But none of this matters. Not when you look at what's gone by.

With every passing year, you regret something you have lost/can't do anymore/should've said/cannot be. Think about it. It could be something really insignificant, or something earth-shattering. I just happen to have a particularly large number of these regrets. And they accompany me in any and every thing i do. Which is fucking frustrating, let me tell you.

So, suffice to say, the bitch that was 2006 slapped the teenage smirk clean off my face, preparing me for what has been and i think will forever be the most shit-awful year of my life. That isn't to say it was a bad year. It was great, I've had a bottle of JD and the best friends in the world in my company for the most of it. I realize now it wasn't the year, it was the age.

Mathematically and psychologically speaking, 20 is the year in which you cease to be a teenager while simultaneously failing to be an adult. Call me Bartholomew for being a tightass (haha, ric), but honestly this year has been divided almost equally into "Act like an adult" and "What the fuck would you know, you little punk!?". Anyone who ever gave two squirts of rat-piss about me would know that i hate being treated like a child as much as i hate being tossed into a series of mental/emotional/physical situations that are a couple decades ahead of me. And honestly, wouldn't anybody? But smacking me from either side like this is plain fucking hypocrisy.

That having being said, my impending birthday doesn't seem so depressing anymore. If there's one smelly grimy rut i'd love to make it safely out of, it's 20. And i'm beginning to see signs of daylight. Bring on the liquour license, legal clubbing (not that i'll be doing much of it), and insane amounts of responsibility, i'm ready as i'll ever be. Treat me like i'm a minute younger than i actually am and i'll pull your eyeballs through your sinuses and leave them hanging out your nose to forever look at your fat gut. ;)

Pour out a patiala, 21, lots of ice, i'll be there in 4 weeks' time.

"I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released."

-Bob Dylan.

When one has gotten accustomed to living, breathing, reacting and all out existing in a particular way, its hard to give it all up in the name of a sudden change. A change one may not appreciate, but is forced to accept. Extreme amounts of Self control in one's attitude, manner of speaking, dressing, eating, drinking, spending, travelling, all out chilling. Adaptation to such changes is harder than one knows... One shouldn't be put down for being a slow adapter to such changes. It gets worse when one is occasionally reminded of what life used to be. There's a certain sense of relaxation in one's attitude that is entirely given up upon giving in to this change. One gets tense, anxious and worried about whether or not one is saying or doing things according to the new norms that have been laid out before him/her. And one has to do this thinking even while chilling, while relaxing. What the fuck is relaxing about that!?!? How can one chill if he's constantly worried about saying or doing something wrong. It takes the fun out of everything. One longs to see, hear and feel what he/she used to. Times of blissfull, focused relaxation should be just that. Take the tension away from one's mind. Live free. But then again. That isn't always an option. This is something one can't help. Sometimes there are people and things that mean enough to one to put aside one's dislike for the things one has to do to be a part of these people and things. So if one thinks it's worth the sacrifice in the long run, then by all means, give in to the change.

 

-One.

For those of you who know me, how am i? I've been thrown compliments as well as insults all my life, the operative word here being 'thrown'. When things are thrown at you, you spend so little time in reacting to them, that you don't have enough time to decipher whether or not they have any basis, or whether they are true. You just catch them and either smile coyly, or raise a middle finger and blare obscenity.

 

Honesty is a difficult thing to ask. Of anyone. It is one of the most difficult things to maintain, and one of the easiest things to throw away. This is not a plea to condone MY past or future behaviour, this is not me encouraging YOU to be a slimy truthless fiend of a being. This is just me analyzing one of the most simple facets of human personality and realizing that it isn't so fucking simple after all. You'll lie to save your own sorry arse. You'll lie to defend the ones you love. You'll lie to betray the ones you don't. You'll lie to be nice, you'll lie to be mean. You'll lie to be accepted, you'll lie to be left alone. You'll lie all the fucking time. How could something so commonly done be so bad. Oooh, i know, i know.... Coz we're all full of shit. I'm a strong believer of karma. So strong (i know, you're picturing me and strong and cracking the fuck up), in fact that i believe that it can be outdone. Imagine a lie so powerful that even karma looked at it and said, 'fuck that shit, i'm going home!' thereby refusing to pimp-smack you for all the harm you've caused by telling that lie. You win. You defeat karma and cause a rift in the space-time continuum, yadayadayada, placed before the creator for fuckin with the universe, you run from karma, coz she's one pissed of motherfucker, (kinda like the doohickey from pOp:WW), she spits ladders for you to walk under and black cats to cross your path. (all figures of speech since superstition doesn't appear in Chuck Norris's [or my] dictionary under S, its under W for wuss.) If i was Chuck Norris, i'd roundhouse karma in its chin and send the slag packing. But only coz i believe in her so very much.

 

Now, back to the placebo that is the title of this post. If there were such a syndicate, i would probably be the founder. Though, without the slightest reason. I am the most serene individual i know. Would you care to fuck with that?!? Didin't bloody well think so. To quote the Red Hot Chili Peppers, "I am small, but i'm strong, i'll get it on with you!" Limitless rage is not something i possess, but that doesn't mean its not something i'd desire. I'll look up eBay.

 

All this unbridled jibba jabba is riding up my arse, making me feel probably the same way knya did when we wedgied him to the roof of his car. The moral of this story is. Don't lie, unless you come up with something so dastardly that it could cause the world to come to an end, thereby making you special.