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A crumbling cookie night
Baskets of red. Rotund passion fruits.
Sit on my table. Still life.
Ellipsis. Ellipsis. Ellipsis.

Some photography-elusive moments later
You drone into my surreal mind gallery
With vicious paintbrushes
And fingernails.

Fur
Smothering fur.
Cacophonic radio static.
Montage of screaming colors.

Slippery shameful purple fish
Invade my everywhere.
Icy eels of control
Slithering down my skin
A million waxy drips in a moment

Flicker. Sigh. Moan. Shriller and shriller.
Will this much of love kill me, love? Kill me, Love. Kill. Me.

I think of the word “rhododendrons”
And then of a thin song just to seduce you.

I dissolve into the spilling cocoa night
In some memories of KMnO4
Keep this secret
(or)
I might just have to slit your throat again.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was wondering what a few of my friends would name their dogs if they had one:

Rajesh, the mad scientist+genius+cute overload type

His doggy would be a lhasa apso neatly combed and appropriately tagged with genus, species, binomial nomenclature apart from all the necessary cuteness paraphrenalia such as clips and bows and ribbons.

The doggy would be christened K9 Quadruped Mujjax.

Shashi, the poet+non-conformist+existentialist+mad scientist+experimental type

His dog would be a Shih-Tzu (he will deny this in the comments section)
It would wear red heart-shaped glasses and see the world through green filters. It will have a purple tail ribbon, the purpose of which will remain a poignant existential mystery. The doggy would be an INFP. It will love chewing on books by Kafka and Sartre.

The dog’s name would be Lolita Prufrockovna.

Mathi, the litterateur+spelling bee enthusiast+Ajax coder+poet+obscurantist

His dog would be an invisible Xoloitzcuintli living in his bookshelf, reading Nabakov, Murakami and Finnegan’s Wake. The dog would be endearingly never addressed as Pristine Canine though that is what its birth certificate would say. It would be called Prick instead and probably get cooked.

Jai, the biker+adventurer+mad nomad+sentimentalist type

His dog would be a German Shepherd no doubt. It will eat the best protein nuggets in all of India and attend all dog shows. It will be the type of dog whose owners keep assuring you that it wont bite while it sniffs dangerously close to a certain succulent portion of your calf, baring its recently brushed fangs. The dog would have a shiny coat dusted with Grade-A Bulstrode’s Anti-Flea Potion.

This member of his family would be named Trevor or some such functional thing.

More people who want dog names please contact me in the comments section. ;-)

In response to Shashi’s “Banality Crisis

Around the time I am 30
Much would not have changed
Considering I am already 25

Perhaps I would find my
Geek, poetic, non-conforming, dapper
Who reads Kafka and Seth
And Shelley to inspire those anti-mediocrity battles
Who can also Osho sometimes
Does not hesitate to hold hands in public.

On the contrary, I hope to find myself
Ostracized
Vodka and marlboro
In an alien land
Sagging breasts
Flabby tummy
Already
hahaha
And some interesting men
Non-committal but suave
Smelling of musk and cigarettes.

Fearfully sometimes
I see myself
Buying karivepilai at Mylapore
Dinner at Vasantha Bhavan
Speeding with my B.E. Mechanical Software Pro
With a 3-month old baby
Clinging to me on the pillion
Of a Bajaj Pulsar.

Jeez i am laughing so much!!!!!!

Real life is really catching up with me and now I am beginning to enjoy it. I’ll be at Bangalore the whole of next week attending a training program. I gave my TOEFL exam today and I did decently well. There are new people in my life and new promises as usual. However, I am not banking on anything because a free mind begins with the anticipation of change.

II 

This is for somebody specific. My life is not governed by your presence or absence. There was a time in my life when I had such people around whom I built my world. Every time they left, my world crumbled. Now my world is based upon me, my abilities and my dreams. I would love your companionship and like the idea of sharing things with you, but my happiness or sadness is not to be dictated by your behavior. Fortunately or unfortunately, this is the point in time you and I have met, after I happened to grow up. If you want a wallflower, who gets anxiety syndrome every time you leave, then find someone else. I am not for any such games. I can imagine a life with and without you and both lives seem equally livable. I do not need you. I like you.

III

What will become of me? This is the next worry! Hahaha! Something has to keep us going right? :-)

I was messing around with this tool called Photofiltre in my free time. I have been using this tool for over two years but I have only recently begun to explore it in detail. I had great fun creating these two images.

Cityscape

Tree of Paradise

May I write to you when banal reality cobwebs my dreams?

To your denial and the muted truths in your silence.

May I write to your incoherent kisses that eat me in little portions?

To your hundred lies and postponed happiness…

To the cozy desires hiding in your repressed closets..

May I write to the secret you made love to

And abandoned in the clamoring streets of everyday?

To distance and the death of potential orgasms…

May I write to our unborn children living in a hope cocoon?

How they metamorphose into tomorrow’s seeds of pain..

May I?

It is no miracle that you taste like rain

It is a miracle how you carry the scents of a lost train of thought

Or a tune from some forgotten notebook

How your fingers arouse eons of dormant flowers sleeping

Untouched in untended gardens.

How you are singularly beautiful

Like parallel sunbeams carrying volatile dust

And like the random little flower surprises in ruined forts.

How you make broken bits of dreams gather themselves

And become cumulus clouds bursting with moisture.

With you, love is as easy as the heady momentum

In a childhood swing.