The problem with being and other confessions

The problem with being a prick is that you are always being a prick. Even if its with yourself.

For example, if I were to keep a diary this is what a page might look like:

Dear Diary,

Today I tried to catch an auto. I must have asked five or six of them. One after the other, they all said no. And I wasn’t even asking to go too far. (Sounds like your love life – Ed)

See, so the Ed is the prick me. Always doing some pricky thing or the other.


I was thinking that things would be a lot simpler if only 10 people lived in this world. Or perhaps 100, or 1,000.

Percentage polls would be so easy to do. I mean, then, if I actually read somewhere that “Smell of lavender causes sexual awakening, seven times out of ten”, I would actually believe it.

And that got me thinking about the number 100 and why percentages are calculated on the basis of this “round” number and why we chose 10 and 100 and 1000 and whether it is all some sort of conspiracy by the Zeroes.

Gotta hand it to the Zeroes though. What a fuckin concept.

They can never be blamed for anything you know, those slimy mothas. “Wuh me? I couldnt have done it. I am nothing”


And that got me thinking about being creative (mein hero hoon, zero nahi) and I was just wondering whether there is this creative switch inside the brain.


What else what else.

The coolest dreams are the ones where you know you are dreaming. Then you can really, really fuck around. And go, this is fukin awesommmme.

Brutus has hit the mechanics for one final time. I have left her all alone and I am wondering whether that was a wise thing to do. Let us see what is going to happen. The doctors have said that they will give me their opinion in a couple of days. The wallet is going to be hit. I have no frikkin doubt about that.

Oh Brutus, you ugly lovely expensive bitch. I love you like I hate you. Shake that biscuit baby.

If I could lech at veggies and fruits I would totally lech the hell out of a mushroom. So juicy, so shy, sitting nicely in one corner of the pullao. Oye mushroom, how ya doing.

The problem with spending a lot of time online is that you sort of lose the sense of private space. Like you don’t really know how close or far you should stand when you are talking to people. And this is a bit disturbing.

Personal space. Like everyone walking around with four glass sheets around them. Their own, personal cubicles. Their personal stations, their own, little galaxy of fundamentally fucked up theories and prejudices and hatreds.

The internet is way too negative. Just way too negative.

Like the papers but only more pervasive, more penetrative.


Things to do on World Inappropriate Day:

1. Go to a Blind School with a stereo and a set of massive speakers. Play the song “Who let the dogs out” On loop. OR play that “pin the tail on the donkey” game.

2. Go to a funeral. Dressed as michael jackson.

3. Visit the local museum, with one finger in the nose. All the time.

Be inappropriate man. Un stuffy, relaxed, just be yourself.

Said no one. Ever.

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4 Responses to The problem with being and other confessions

  1. Sroyon says:

    Ha! The only reason you didn’t delete those first two comments even though I told you to, is so that they rank up the comment count.

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