eleven and out

1) I have been much too depressed for much too long. Not just depressed, to be honest. Moody is more like it. On top of the world one day, the pits the next, and so on and on in an infintely complicated emotional rollercoaster that refuses to let me get off.

2)I have always kept to myself . How introvertedness turned into excruciating shyness is beyond me. I just can't talk to anyone anymore without being agonizingly self-conscious, and judgemental.

3)There's not one thing I feel really strongly about. I'm absolutely bereft of passion. What I needed, perhaps, was a Muse of some sort, something or someone that could've filled out the emptiness.

4)Everybody I know has the paths of their lives charted out to the smallest detail. I, on the other hand, have never felt more aimless. Ambitions have never been my thing, and deep down, I know that I'm driving down to a dead-end.

5)I always grew up considering myself to be gifted in some manner. You know the standards - math whiz, super writer, star athlete. As each year goes by, you strike one off the list, till one day you wake up to the fact that you might as well have torn off the page when you were ten.

6)The other day, it just struck me that I can't do anything. I can't ride a bike, drive a car, cook, play the guitar, sing, fix the radio, dance, sew, paint.Nothing.

7) I'm fat and ugly. And I'll never forgive You for that.

8)Lately, I've taken to listening to sappy love songs, and watching the most unbelievably mushy candy-floss. I don't know if you do this too, but I seem to have gotten into the habit of imagining myself as the actor on screen, especially during all the making-out. I'm sure it isn't healthy thing to do. Kissing Kate Winslet did feel rather good, though.

9)I tried to make a list of the people who would miss me. Really miss me, truly wish I was still around. Afraid not too many made that list. And I can't blame anyone for that. If I were you, I wouldnt miss me. Eminently forgettable I am, if little else.

10)Spending long hours online is a sign of social dysfunction. Perhaps if i had tried to go out and talk to real people, I wouldn't be as lonely as I am now. Virtual relationships are easy to make, and from personal experience, very convenient for people to walk away from. Use-and-throw has never had more license.

11)I hate my ego. It is just so suffocating.

the amazing race

two rain drops
fall, cheeks apart.
which one first?

survey

Would you rather see me fast unto death or hang by the ceiling fan?

DT

Deutsche Telekom Laboratories do not deem me worthy of a summer internship. What's more, they do not believe that I'm even good enough to make the shortlist.

My dreams of frolicking in the Rhine this summer, during the football World Cup finals, no less, are dashed. Shattered. Beyond repair.

What else can I do now but wistfully paraphrase the immortal words of Amy Sedaris ?

"When shit gets you down, say 'fuck it' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy."
"Bitch. I'm here to tell you that it's going to be all right. We'll get through this shit, motherfucker, just you wait"

Yeah, DT, you sonofabitch, just you wait.

One

Whilst I find my calling in the City of Joy over the next week or so, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would wish my bloggie a very happy first birthday on the 14th.
A cake would be nice, too. And a candle to blow out .

I wonder what wish my bloggie would make.
A little less neglect, perhaps.

Dazed and Confused

I dig Richard Linklater. I really do. The man gives me perspective.

"I mean, God. Don't you ever feel like everything we do and everything we've been taught is just to service the future."

"Yeah, I know. It's like it's all preparation."

"Right, but what are we preparing ourselves for?"

"Death."

" If we're all going to die anyway shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I'd like to quit thinking of the present, like right now as some minor insignificant pre-amble to something else."

In other news, the fork in the road is approaching. My life and career, and the direction of the same.Time to toss the old coin, and ask the question again.

I mean man, whither goest thou?
Whither goest thou, melon collie, in thy shiny car in the night?

the whore of mensa

I find the idea most fascinating. Merely thinking about it gets me dripping wet. (I meant the drool, silly). My hair begins to stand on end. And not only my hair, to tell you the truth.

Consider this for yourself. Call someone over at an odd hour of the night. Someone unknown to you, preferably mid-twenties, reasonably comely. A sweet smile would be a bonus. Proceed to fulfil your deepest, darkest, most deviant fantasies. Succumb to the exhilarating, overpowering ecstasy, leaving you utterly at the stranger's mercy, begging for more more more.

All at a price, you understand.
No touching, of course, though some are known to be accommodating in that respect. Absolutely no fondling allowed, however. The mind is the mind, the body is the body, and never the twain shall meet.

The whores will discuss, at great depth, any intellectual topic of your preference. You name it. The recurrent motifs in the work of D.H Lawrence. The films of David Lynch. Perhaps even an explanation (if such a thing does exist) of 'Lost Highway'. The pointillist art of Georges-Pierre Seurat. Husserl's phenemology of internal time consciousness. The fugues of Johann Sebastian Bach. Freud's stages of development. The influence of bebop on Beat literature. The list is endless.

Trust me. There's nothing sexier than talking high-brow with a well-informed woman. If you feel uncomfortable about this, just look upon it as a cerebral jerking-off. And of course, you don't need a condom either.

You know what they say. The most erotic organ is between the ears.
Yeah, baby. They got that one right.

P.S.
Read the entire Woody Allen short story here.