Where the sun needs to go see a shrink

The sun suffers from personality disorders.

There is no other rational explanation.

Pinky swear.

In other, earth shattering news, Kro is finally single and oh-soooo ready to mingle. Like both in mind and spirit.

Ladies beware. Be very very ware. Wait. That did not sound sexy at all. In fact that sounded like that chap who is always hunting bugs bunny. “Be weary weary quiet”

A couple of my friends said that I am beginning to resemble Homer Simpson. They also laughed for approximately six minutes when I showed them a photo of my face. In between the laughter, I got asked whether the photo had been edited. Like not in a good way at all.


The other night, we got a warning from the waiter that our table was making too much noise. Man, I love it when that happens. So then you can crouch around the table and wonder which piece-of-shit in the restaurant ratted us out. Make up our own conspiracies etc etc.

The other-other night, I found myself laughing my ass off at nothing in particular and being all ghati and making strange faces and laughing some more. It is so supremely wonderful when you meet people who not only could not give a fuck about making fools of themselves but also possess the same kind of humour that you do.

I just got a glimpse of my future here.

I should totally get a puppet. I wonder what I would perform and I wonder what my puppet would look like. I think it would be good therapy, unless of course the puppet over powers me. That is one of the reasons why I never really picked up any ventriloquism. In fact, early on I was under the impression that “throwing” one’s voice actually involved some sort of catching “voice” and hurling it around.

Which also reminds me of the times when I thought head banging was the coolest thing in the world. Around this time, I used to have a bunk bed of sorts with the computer below the bed. Which means that when I did decide to do the “head banging” thing, I would have to be really careful that my khopdi actually did not make contact with the bottom of the bed.

Wait let me explain it using my superior drawing skills

Head banging -- My way

So there I am, all ready to rock ‘n’ roll. And Teen Spirit is being blasted away and just at the part where it goes “ta na nana cchhh na na, na cchcch na,” I leap up.

And knock myself out.

A few minutes later, I realise that my stomach is kissing the floor, my head hurts and nirvana should never, ever, ever be heard when suffering from head-aches.

There used to be a place on mg road called Styx. In fact, I don’t even know if it is still there. Used to be the favourite hang out place of my chaddi baddi. I would go there, the innocent little child that I am, and wonder what all this “metal vetal” is.

Styx. Fuck. That was ages ago.

Oh and I realise that in my “drawing”, the computer does not have any cables and there is no mention of any speakers and there is no floor and I may possibly have only one hand with no facial features to speak of.

Fuck off.

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