Life’s fucked, yeah baby but what’s
new?
Kaku has left. Something else also happened today, I think. I am so
tired, but I wish I were always this way for a long time. I can’t think and I
can’t be afraid. I wish I could be free.
Or, ooo, wonders, can I actually be
happy?
I wish you would be okay but I don’t know how much it matters
anymore, my wishing, empty wishes, empty tempty pempty 30 year-old, twenty five
year old, bumping, dumping, tumpking along, all the old thoughts, and where do
they go…
I was reading Chatwin, Brucos Chatwinos. And I read English August
and enjoy going insane. Hardly, anyway. So the barbet came yesterday morning and
we were very happy, he and I, me and I. I even had a video of it. And didi is
having a baby and C got married, and I am an old king bus riding twinky in the
sea.
Oli came and lit up my day, and we both stood at one Katapukur, under a
dusty sky and lots of trees and yellow sun bursting with the promise of summer,
and I dreamed of jholas and dusty streets. And I am looking up armadillos now.
Merry aye?
There’s a bastard that goes aye, aye. Hate him
bloody.

Our Camay is getting married tomorrow. And we wished for joy and fun and seasons in the sun.
She is the first of our lot, and it’s a pleasant sort of thinking to be surprised at the fact. Who knows what it is like to be married, and why does the world want to tear away the picture in your head and tell you that life is brutal and things are not as rosy as you want them to be? does not matter, cause I think they are rosy anyway.
Misswholeworld is the id of someone. And I really rather love it, mane there’s this completely honest no holds barred self absorption in it although it is so corny. And on the other, this deep deep yearning I find for everything out there separated from you by the transparent film of your indecision, incompleteness: no Hamlet but a fool.

I would let anything happen to let this stay, or rather push it to the worst end it might. Or the worst that could happen to me. Then I would sit amid the destruction, the pieces, and laugh. I wouldn’t have chickened out. I will have killed myself trying.
But this is all in my head, aye.

The Torment Of Existance Weighed Against The Horror Of Nonbeing.

Rules:1. Put any music player (like Windows Medias Player, Winamp, iPod) on shuffle/random mode2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.
It's a hell of a lot of hard work shala.

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY?" YOU SAY?
No surprises (Radiohead)
Heh heh, it’s probably what I am most likely to say.

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Because the world is round, it turns me on (The Beatles)
Perhaps.

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Exit Music, Radiohead.
Wake... from your sleep
The drying of your tears
Today.. we escape
We escape.
Not necessarily. Actually, not at all.

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Climbing Up the Walls (Radiohead)
Actually, today is one of those rare days I don’t.

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
The Mysterious Murder of Christian Tierra’s L (Steve Vai)
Yeah right, sure, and then I’ll grow pumpkins on the vacant lot behind my house.

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Electioneering (Radiohead)
I will stopI will stop at nothing
Say the right things
When electioneering
I trust I can rely on your vote.
A bit of that, yes.

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
A Little Help From My Friends (The Beatles)
Yeah

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
When the Levee Breaks (Led Zep)
If it keeps on rainin', levee's goin' to break,
When the Levee Breaks I'll have no place to stay.
Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan,
Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home,
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well.
Don't it make you feel bad
When you're tryin' to find your way home,
You don't know which way to go?
Yeah

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Dear Prudence (The Beatles)
No no, not really, no.

10. WHAT IS 2+2?
Karma Police (Radiohead)
Karma police, arrest this man
He talks in maths
He buzzes like a fridge
He's like a detuned radio

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Strawberry Fields (The Beatles)
Yes

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Lucky (Radiohead)
Pull me out of the aircrash,
Pull me out of the lake,
I’m your superhero,
We are standing on the edge.
Yeah, that

13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Octopus’ Garden (The Beatles)

14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Answers

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Die to Live (Steve Vai)

16. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Let it Be (The Beatles).
Hihi

17. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Four Sticks, Led Zep.
Oh, Baby, it's cryin' time, Oh, Baby, I got to fly. Got to try to find a way, Got to try to get away, 'Cause you know I gotta get away from you, Babe.
NO, if I ever dance

18. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Here, There and Everywhere, (The Beatles)

19. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Going to California (Led Zep)

20. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Right.

21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Stairway to Heaven (Led Zep)

22. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
Paranoid Android (Radiohead)
A calls me that occasionally with affection.

I am fucking tired of this. Harami jotoshhob

The sterile wanderer

Nothing to hope for. In fact, it is the only way to be. I can’t take this anymore I can’t I can’t I can’t. I wish I were alone. Then I would be sharp, cause I’d have only me to fall back upon. This passive dependence, sometimes answered, sometimes inutile, makes you blunt, impotent. There’s this woman, actress called Franka Potenta: Franka the powerful. Franka, lovely name. I wish there would be this violent rupture that would force change. I am completely unanchored, suddenly I dunno what to do. The weather as usual brilliant, sunlight and freedom, tinged with rancid despair. The sharp taste of rancid despair. I think I’ll try this tactic now: I’ll let things get as bad as they possibly can, then when I can’t take it anymore, I won’t hafta be responsible for my actions. Maybe then I will be free?

I just discovered that there has been a marginal increase in the number of people who read my blog. At this moment, anyway. Toh amar khoob phurti hoyechhe. Mane, I can’t write copious reams, situated from within a comfort zone, right? In fact, I don’t really want to write, I feel quite comfortable to just be, or that perhaps, hmm, things are too much in a tumble for them to be articulated. You need for them to settle. Anyway, the Amrica-residing uber yuppy, short fella is going back to home. To his work and snow, and to look outta his office at a very large parking lot, I suppose. Mane, I am not saying it’s the only thing he does, far from it.
Anyway, so while walking with him, I also met S at Oxford, with, well, S, Saptarshi, whatthehell. And P. and I was glad how I cldn’t say. Shiny happy faces, like. You would be happy in their happiness. And we were meandering in my aimless way through what seems like oft-traversed streets. And I had ice-cream, bad throat, cough blah blah notwithstanding. B says I’ve read too many books and so am screwed up. I am not for a moment admitting that as a possibility, but I mean, that’s a thought too, right? That someone thinks. I was reading August today, book I’d brought for him. And I noticed that Ogu was 24, what I am now. And I’d wondered while buying the book whether had liked the book through eyes not equipped to discern, but it was, you know, what it had always been: one of those books which are right up my alley, like The Outsiders.
Somewhere in the book, August says that you realise that not even your crisis has the dignity of being unique. I remember it from the time when I was in 2nd year, it had seemed spoken by a grown up then, and what I felt seemed to be same as a grown-up’s life. Now, Ogu feels like an adolescent and his angst that too. A been there done that kind. Or something I will not, a bit of regret. I will not be lost in the so-called Indian heartland, and it’s not dry and dusty seen through a stoned haze as Agasyta’s was, just perhaps endless struggle and bits of epiphany, familiar high drama cause it’s mine.
You know how I feel right? How both things add up to the same? I am happy, really happy. Glad to have things the way they are. And I want to write so much more, just here, but can’t?

I feel terrible. Do I lead people on only to disappoint? But I am only the way I am, you know? When did I promise great things? Or am I am a disappointment to myself, that I can do exciting things, but deliberately restrain myself, as it were? Why do I come close to people at all? We are crowded islands on an open sea. I wish we stayed that way.

I had an awesome day today, as this guy would call it. I was glad to only be on the road, walking, working out energy, that I grow stronger the harder I work. It was "awesome", and the things you fear recede to the back of your mind. Walking is indeed very comforting. I wish I eventually walk alone, that I choose the way and go alone.

I don’t think I have been in a juncture like this before, but I seem to come up against them ever so often now. I doubt if I shall ever have a family. I don’t think I can stay this way. I don’t think it has much to do with the job, but more like what I have become in the past few months. It’s killing me from inside. Must be this ma went through for so many years, I don’t quite know. What to do, I wring my hands in despair, and wait for redemption, release. If there is dying in the head, I am living it, living it. I have little left. And someone seems to be waiting in the wings waiting for me to turn into exactly what I fear to be. Oh God oh God, what despair, what is this what is this?

uhoohoohoo, ki raag..

blue-breasted kingfisher

It is comfortable to know there is nothing to look forward to and quietly rot in hell. There is indeed nothing to lose then. And when you are gone and done with it, you can always get up and start afresh. It helps then if you are alone, but it does not matter. You are alone anyway when you are this way. I like that.

i am sick, with a cold, cough and bits of asthma. lonesome and a little angry.

Hi, I went for my first birdwatch at Chintamoni Kar bird sanctuary today, and although the senior birders there said that not a lot of serious birdwatching happened, I found it very very good. Mane I was introduced to the place, to the basics of birding, and I saw some nice birds. The place is a bit like a forest, and it was ever so pleasant walking on earth paths strewn with dried/old/wet leaves. A while after we left, after I had been dropped off at a localoy, I smelt my hands, and they had the smell that villagers have, mane for me, the Puruliya, Bansa smell. I felt so glad, relieved, more than anything. It was familiar and I can’t wait to go back, to rock-climbing, trekking. And this was good in a way that trekking is not. Perhaps it is to do with the fact that I found that I liked this all by myself, without having it as a given, to like it. I can’t wait to do it all, in my own way.
I saw:
Greater coucal
Spangled drongo
Common kingfisher (such a pert beauty)
Tree pie (didja know children, that this was hnarichacha, the very same? My mum would have identified the bird, I think. This one was mobbed by a team of warblers.)
Little Grebe (at Shaatkhola, some distance away)
Cotton pigmy goose (ditto)
Black naped-oriole (ki pretty. Amader photographers have taken some lovely photos occasionally. Black-naped oriole and this blue-throated barbet, I think.)
An injured cuckoo (maramari korechhilo, they said)
White-throated? fantail
Aro pakhi chhilo, kintu sheygulo ami dekhini tai likhchhina. I wish I had my own binoculars. Mane they saw grey lapwing, aro koto ki, but I DIDN’T. So there.
Dear Jesus, it will soon be time for a better camera. It’s already time for a bird book that I will buy in this book fair.

(And I wish so hard that he would join me. More than happy, I would be relieved.)

hee hee, i've been tagged i've been tagged. think calvin rubbing his hands with evil glee and saying i am rich i am rich (his father gave him a quarter, i think, and tried teaching him the value of money) and you'll know how i feel.
pphoooey!

Well, this:
I was walking in Chandni Market today, and again, you know, after a while you enter this sense of total comfort amid tumultous crowds going about their business. And I am happiest then if I am alone. Only other person, perhaps Oli, or N (strange, but not so strange), but then, to be honest, it’s best when I am by myself. I never give this being its due. Mane, comfort with myself is like a fau that I keep saving for the hardest times which I think will come when no one is there. It’s this way with most things I do. I never give the things most easily available their due, and run after the harder ones, for the thrill of searching, and the pining if I don’t get it is a solid filler, a real taker-away from the boredom I am liable to lapse into. I seem to need little then, people only occasionally. I keen toward them, partly out of habit, and partly out of the fear of what might happen if I do actually need them. I trust myself so little. I dunno why. I am no worse than the average human..
Anyway, so I found Chin Wah, but apparently they open only after 6, and it was just after 5 then. The place is a little off the crowded Chandni Market ghinji golis. Ar tokhon ajan hochhilo as I emerged from the lane, and there were bright lights and people all around, and it was great. I wished I had a reason to keep on walking and searching for something there. Well, I bargained and got myself a DVD holder. It’s only now I wonder why I didn’t ask for a better colour. Mane it’s in a garish violet shade, and of garish colours, violet is not a real favourite. And I bought a scarf for 20 rupees in the morning, and felt really bad. Mane, I make such random purchases, and the reason for buying has long been lost, and it’s like I’ve given in to getting what takes the eye for just the moment. The moment it comes to hand, there is such a crashing sense of disappointment, cause there was no need for it.
Then I walked over for tea, and it’s a comfort, as usual, because the stall owner talks little, knows what you want. Makes good tea.
Hideous hideous, I wish I could evaporate into a particle in the atmosphere there, much as I would have liked best to exist in Vellore.

I walked to Park Street and back to get a cake for home. And rushed cause there was sthng to correct on the fucking page, which I wasn't getting in hand all the fucking time I was waiting. Somewhere I hope someone's recording that I am not the selfish monster I am made out to be.
I was panting for breath and am still sweating. (I did eat a sandwich at Park Street, the place was so fucking tempting). I am fat.

I have become one of those people who don't need to be hungry to eat. Chokher khide is no longer something to be fought, but registered as something to be answered with as much concern as real khide. I ate up three plates of fried pork momo yesterday. A chicken sandwich and a black forest cake out of merely the desire to do so. Doesn't sound like much, I suppose, but I feel like I am changing into someone else.
I also bought lingerie worth Rs bloody 595, which I can't find any functional use for.
People are getting married all over. I haven't known one year when so many people I knew got married. The boy jokingly (snidely!) said, biyer morok legechhe. Ebaba, chhee chhee.
And I did voters' ID card hearing today. If the fates and all their grandchildren are pleased with me, a card might emerge at the end of all this.
I am reading Aron Ralston's Between A Rock and A Hard Place. It's good.
And that I feel left out. But I'll be damned if I asked. Fucker, shala.

I dunno why I am writing about the boy's friend's marriage, but there's generally a biyer hirik on everywhere. C is getting married, Rituparna, a friend, is. A senior is. You almost feel as if you are obliged to follow suit. Or something. The boy had fun, I believe, as he is prone to, on such occasions, like musing what would happen if he were to tie his friend's dhuti (the friend himself being incapable of it) - mane, he said, shorshor kore akta awaj hobe, ar tarpor dekha jabe purut moshai ke ar dekha jachhe na. That is, the purut would be covered under the dhuti. I say! Also, that people should wear buzzers on their heads, and when you wished to speak to someone, the buzzers would ring or light up, and the person would come and speak to you. Mane, no random people coming up to get chatty with you, ar ki. I keep imagining this bald person in our off., going around wearing this buzzer, like bellboys. Angry giggles is a concept I now understand.
Ar toh he was awake through a lot of the night, wearing his ornate panjabi.
Oh well, whatever, I am more or less at a loss to understand why I am so excited about a wedding I havent even be invited to.
I guess I am so deprived of entertainement I would jump at anything.