Where we talk amongst ourselves, quiet whisperings in a field full of burning stars

I think stars are mega cool. Like mega mega. Means on a scale of one to ten, stars would probably be eleven billion.

I like jumping out of the scale. There is so much joy in jumping out of the scale, irreverence and cheekiness. Disregard for the rules that seek to impose and discipline.

“So, kro. How many stars would you give that movie?”



I think discipline is over rated. Sure, it does have its plus points but its not like the greatest thing in the world. There is a very real side of indiscipline, a very human side to it. It is a bit like giving the finger to the rules and colouring outside the lines and all that. It has laziness and indifference and all the negatives that make you human. You know what I mean. Sure to be perfect is difficult but to be human is to be honest and that is perhaps the most difficult.


Whenever I go into ramblings I can feel my brain give me a kick in the bum. Like the brain orders the bum muscle to wind up and KOW POW me in the cheeks.

I have a violent brain. What can I say.


Say chaiya chaiyya chaiyya. Say chaiyya chaiyya.

Ooooo have fallen in love with this MIA chicita. Whattey bomb. Like Fat Boy.

Nuke time.

Fuck. I wonder whether I will ever witness a nuclear explosion. And whether I would be prepared for it. Or would I be all fumbling with my glasses, wondering why everyone was screaming and praying and running all over the place. I wonder how loud it would be. Like would you just go deaf or would your brain convince you that it was actually that loud. Would the earth rumble and the buildings shiver? Would I survive? Have those deep burns right into my skin and my eyes and be a bed ridden burnt victim till I eventually died. Skin peeling away and being forced to lie on my stomach because the skin on the back had just melted away.


Then then what else you did.

Suffering succotash.

I think I am going to adopt that as my default response. Lots of spit involved in that one. Put some extra saliva when someone tries to make the polite chit chat.

“Oh so what do you do?”

Suffering succotash.

Yup. That sounds like a plan.

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