666 views! Hence, the Number of the Beast:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vn_j9T_DD4k
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Complete cellphone dump [could contain trash (& trash-talk)]
Delhi to Dublin Jalebee Cartel Mars Volta Fluke Absurd Sin City
Good day sunshine, black, think about you, jealousy woes, what goes on
I had got an author-signed copy of a book, twice - once Khushwant Singh, next a short collection of humorous poems by a Bengali gentleman who lived across the house we had in Nayatola - or Machhuatoli, as we knew it in Patna. Like other things and in my inferences from Niet's B G A E, those books I lost.
Life by m m
712 ground floor birdys to check out level in mukherjee nagar
If Eminem could survive writin' rhymes while ridin' the rickety clack o' the roadways track, I can do the same cruisin' the cushion dee em arr cee's pushin'?
Just because this Airtel guy, Mohit Beotra, is a smooth talker, I'm tempted to waste money by putting Black as my Hello Tune. Ha!
The house at the very end of the road, that housed Eklavya Hostel for Boys during the time we rented the first floor flat...the landlords were nice people as far as I recall, even their childeren were fun to play with...board games, methinks we played...
If you let chootiyaas fuck your mind up, you're the bigger chootiyaa.
My Vaio's LCD flickers... :P I thought material possessions don't matter, but I concede that the ones which matter to one, do.
People say I learnt more in this time than in five years of education. I say, I have been learning for 26 years now, and I see no sign of it ending except by death, accidental or natural.
1854/0902. Waiting for a specific thing is even more boring than waiting for indefinite events. Plus this cold...
Good day sunshine, black, think about you, jealousy woes, what goes on
I had got an author-signed copy of a book, twice - once Khushwant Singh, next a short collection of humorous poems by a Bengali gentleman who lived across the house we had in Nayatola - or Machhuatoli, as we knew it in Patna. Like other things and in my inferences from Niet's B G A E, those books I lost.
Life by m m
712 ground floor birdys to check out level in mukherjee nagar
If Eminem could survive writin' rhymes while ridin' the rickety clack o' the roadways track, I can do the same cruisin' the cushion dee em arr cee's pushin'?
Just because this Airtel guy, Mohit Beotra, is a smooth talker, I'm tempted to waste money by putting Black as my Hello Tune. Ha!
The house at the very end of the road, that housed Eklavya Hostel for Boys during the time we rented the first floor flat...the landlords were nice people as far as I recall, even their childeren were fun to play with...board games, methinks we played...
If you let chootiyaas fuck your mind up, you're the bigger chootiyaa.
My Vaio's LCD flickers... :P I thought material possessions don't matter, but I concede that the ones which matter to one, do.
People say I learnt more in this time than in five years of education. I say, I have been learning for 26 years now, and I see no sign of it ending except by death, accidental or natural.
1854/0902. Waiting for a specific thing is even more boring than waiting for indefinite events. Plus this cold...
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Thought after Meditations in an Emergency - - the poem, not the entire collection
Hm. if you want to have a look, this is what Google throws up first up.
http://s3images.coroflot.com/user_files/individual_files/331242_NAuIW3ZgSHyOrfK26u7WINeBh.pdf
For the life of me, I think this writing means something personal, something that needs to be (or is forcefully being) vented from inside Mr O'Hara.
It, my word for it, is - rambling.
Poetry, especially non-rhyming poetry (I don't know nor do I want to know the 'correct term' for that), including some of Howl, doesn't impress me any. http://www.wussu.com/poems/agh.htm
Worth mentioning, however, is a dark poem Ameya showed me - Sylvia Plath's Mirror, methinks it was.
http://moonchalice.com/mirror.html
http://s3images.coroflot.com/user_files/individual_files/331242_NAuIW3ZgSHyOrfK26u7WINeBh.pdf
For the life of me, I think this writing means something personal, something that needs to be (or is forcefully being) vented from inside Mr O'Hara.
It, my word for it, is - rambling.
Poetry, especially non-rhyming poetry (I don't know nor do I want to know the 'correct term' for that), including some of Howl, doesn't impress me any. http://www.wussu.com/poems/agh.htm
Worth mentioning, however, is a dark poem Ameya showed me - Sylvia Plath's Mirror, methinks it was.
http://moonchalice.com/mirror.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)