If you don't have the patience to read, as most of us wont, leave now. Go back to what you were doing. It would probably be more worth your while doing the dishes or fellating yourself, but if you tire of everything else worth doing then you may proceed. I woke up this morning, with a purpose, but a purpose is never enough it seems, so i purposed in my heart to set goals. That rapidly went to shit. Here I am, now, speaking out of turn, and oh how i love cutting people off. The sheer pleasure of seeing their eyes roll while i ramble on about nothing that makes too much sense. "Life is complicated." "Hard work pays off." and other such horrendous platitudes are what fill our minds these days, along with other such "realistic" notions. The worst part is the morning after- you eat the worst meal of your life, and then you belch, the mucus gurgles, an air sac creeps its way up slowly, edges its way along your now dry throat, and then erupts in a filthy flavour you've been trying to get rid of the whole night-THAT, my friend is life. A filthy, disgusting burp. Those memories you try digesting and defecating will somehow find a way back to piss you off in moments you require the peace and tranquility that your guruji or pastor promised if you buy his latest book that gives you 5 STEPS TO OVERCOMING DEPRESSION. Or 7. I maybe wrong. "Blindly consuming mass manufactured faith, mankind is a festering parasite.." to quote the lyrics of 'Reclamation' by Lamb of God, which echo my thoughts.
Aaah yes, books. Put together a few words on vampires and sex, and you've built a franchise that caters to an age of literary-challenged, tasteless, and bored teens (and a few adults unfortunately) who fantasize sucking blood and other bodily discharges. I'm no literary critic, but that twilight nonsense is highly unsavoury and worse than that burp i was talking about. I've been in this beautiful city of ours all my life. Bang-a-whore- Bangalore City. It pains me to see the pensioners paradise turn into one big business franchise. This amoeba of a city has been extending pseudopodia in all directions, spreading out like a malignancy. This city is growing, yet there seems to be place for no one to breathe. I recently visited the Nathaniel School of Music, to rehearse with my band, Corrode. You would probably miss this serene sliver of nature's pride, bang opposite the metro bridge on MG Road, and i wont blame you. I've missed it too, every single time! A few thousand square feet of plush greenery, ducks, geese, cockerels, cats and dogs. I felt my primordial being take control, just for a fleeting moment. I wondered how the ancient men performed coitus in the wild like that, with danger lurking at every corner, while we cower in the safety of our bedrooms...or toilets..or kitchens..or whatever floats your boat people. Would have been exhilarating, i thought to myself- it's no wonder men come so fast. Pardon the digression. To think that places like this exist here, in the hub of the city, made me beam with elation. My guitarist, Aditya feels differently. The fellow thinks a city needs whopping sky scrapers to validate it's existence. The man thinks that I'm a hippie who needs to get stoned and sit in a tree. I concur with the sitting in the tree bit. If you're reading this, dude, NSM is one of the erogenous zones in this painfully sedate city, and you know it.
As i wind up with this initiating session, keep this, if nothing else in your minds- Where there's a will, there's a lawyer.
