What on earth?

There are things that you come across in life that defy any sense. 

There is no why and what of it. It's just there and it's best to leave them just as and carry on with your life, because if you try to make sense out of them chances are that your brains might scramble and never unscramble. 

Case in point: 

This is a wall of a private room of a wine restaurant. This restaurant only and only serves wine of all sorts and food is prepared on request..and in this private chamber is this wall that's covered in a Victorian painting of sorts, which isn't very good and mostly looks computer generated, framed in a sort of antique looking frame which fails miserably at looking antique. 

If you look closely, you can see a picture of Confucius, a Saddam Hussain bust and a China vase topped with a dried squash/pumpkin? 

I mean why, and then again why not? No one else apart from me looks confused. No one apart from me even cares about the disastrous oxymoronic cultural mashup of this interior decor..so what do I care? People are praising this pretty room and so am I. Drinking wheat tea, cracking pumpkin seeds with my canines, all I can do is write about it and snigger a bit under my breath. 

eyeballs making a fast fire exit

I feel like my brain's been scarred after watching batman vs superman shitfest. I need redemption. Something absolutely refreshing and ground breaking to make me forget the memory of batman behaving like an emo kid getting socked by a mature acting superman who called his mother by her name. Shame on you superman. You should know better. 

Anyway, about my brain tabula rasa, something most definitely needs to be done, and I believe only a true cinematic masterpiece can wash away the horrible memories of BvsS, which is why I'm rooting and waiting for this completely out of the box genius movie that has my heart in knots..I mean I'd like to do a mental handshake with the people who came up with this enterprising avant-garde piece of cinema called 'sadakovskayako'..also known in English as 'The Ring Vs The Grudge'.

Yes my dearies, this movie has happened and is due for release...and here's the fabulous trailer.

http://youtu.be/dknsDiApiXM

Now, not only will there be a long haired white faced expressionless maiden popping out of your tv but also a long haired white faced expressionless woman painting your house walls with fabulous hair action. 

What more could you want? I know I want nothing, save a tub of popcorn and a good seat while I watch this movie. 

Helium links of ghost collars & dying shirts.

Where did the days go? I've been so busy house hunting I didn't realize what date it already is. Almost the end of the month and oh yes..I did find a nice house. A couple of trade offs but the place is pretty spot on to what I wanted/hoped. 

So what now? Now I get back to the my rustic city and start packing, for I move by the first week of next month. 

I write this amidst throngs of impatient travelers and a little too loud calm voice on speaker phone talking about ticket checks and departures..REPEATEDLY! 

The Internet in my hotel room had been sucking so hard that connecting to Vpn was almost a rarity. Like I'd expect the sun to rise from the West a lot sooner than a good Vpn connection. 

Talking about sun rising from the west (I'm looking at you Danerys) I had so much nothing to do last last night that I ended up watching the new GoT episode from season 6..of the book that's not been released yet..and what on earth was going on? 

The whole story seemed so muddled up. I mean they are on a completely different track with the characters and how they're interacting with other characters that I was so confused I stopped bothering with trying to actually figure it out. 

Not just that..there are some characters in the tv series that do not exist in the book, then some who are in a different timeline in the book, some who are presently at different locations in the book and a different one in the Tv series. 

So yeah, after trying to figure out I just gave up and watched the series and almost laughed at the Dothraki tents cuz they looked posher, prettier and lacier than a wedding gazebo..I mean aren't those guys barbarians? 

The sets are pretty good and I can imagine the charm, but there's something totally synthetic about it, or maybe it's just me. Off Late I find everything synthetic. 

So anywhichways, here I am..homeward bound. A home that I shall leave behind in dusty pages of musty history of my book..and look forward to a new life in another city. 

I don't know how I really feel about this. I loved my small Chinese town. 

I shall now proceed to pack my life in boxes with neat labels. Stack, load and transport those boxed puzzle pieces and proceed to put them back together again in another city amidst newer walls. Sigh. 

Soda hearts

As fabulous as soda is, I confess I'm not much of a soda drinker. Yes I often dabble in dishes that are cooked in cola (gasp) and I do confess that I'm an often prey to the illogical grape soda taste but I've never scrawled any soda name on my grocery list..but there is one soda that I absolutely adore, in fact not only adore I've known to order copious quantities of it online if/when it's available. 

It's a rarity outside of Japan, and not easily found in Japanese restaurants either, but when I do happen to find them, I like to snort that stuff into my body till the point of bursting and then some more. 

This soda is called (drumroll) 'Ramune' which is often pronounced 'lamune' in Japan. 

A quick Google search will tell you of its cute soda glass bottle that is sealed with a glass marble (like one of our banta's) that has to be pushed to open the bottle..that it's original is a lime flavour and that it comes in a bajillion other flavours.

What it won't however tell you is that Ramune is pretty much the Cocaine of soda world. It's unbearably addictive and fabulously divine. 

It's not too sweet, not too zingy, not too full with flavour, not too over the top anything. It's sublime, subtle, delicious, ethereal (especially the lemon-lime original flavour one) and plays on your taste buds an invisible harp of fairylike intangible tang. 

It's like a soft kiss on the tip of the tongue of gossamer wrapped fizz that tastes like faint whispers of bubblegum and lemon. 

It's so incredibly delicious that I'm waxing poetry for a soda. 

But it's not just any soda. It's 'Ramune'

House updates

So I've been trudging the length and breadth of this city for a perfect house, or at least what I believe to be the perfect combination of my ideal house that'll have me haunt it for the next couple of years. Well, as it happens such a thing doesn't exist here. 

The perfect combination so to say, my ideal requirement for my envisioned idle life. 

Two days of sifting through a dozen agents, some of which actually overlapped..I mean I thought I was going to meet some other agent and I ended up meeting the same person twice. Moments like that.. enough to make you feel like a low quality courtesan, and still no decent house yet. 

The ones that I absolutely loved were so far flung from civilization that it'd take me just 20 minutes of solid walking just to get to a superstore and a lot of trekking to find some sort of reasonable market. 

The problem with big commercial cities like these is the space, and I'm all about the space baby. 

My current house in my little town is so perfect they should invent a new word for perfect. Everything is close by and the space is huge, but No! Not here. You want space? You won't get enough rooms. You want rooms? You won't get enough bathrooms. You want all, you'll get a compact house that'd mimic a Japanese hotel. You want a glorious gorgeous compound, with a pond and trees and the works? You won't get civilization. 

Arghhh. 

My feet are so overworked they're going to revolt, I've walked so much these past couple days..all sorts of terrain. Today I'm just going to relax and maybe get some sleep. 

I mean..you start looking for houses in the morning and it's not before late at night when you get to come back to your room and decide whether you want to sleep or put a bullet through this city. 

Some sort of compromise will have to be made, and Compromises are so yesterday. 

Techno downdate

Two separate emails, two separate blogpost accounts.

How about I use two separate apps to operate two separate blogspot accounts? 

I couldn't dream of making them under the same e mail address..simply because..well I wanted a new e mail address of the same name as my blogapot account. Why? There's now why! It's illogical but well..this is how it stands right now. 

Oh, and there are no good blogapot apps other than the usual a blogger app. 

I think I might have to run two separate accounts fronted separate devices. 

Arghhh Neanderthal technology. 

Jungle

It's a jungle out there

concrete n stones

glass n iron ore 

two legged ghouls

blank eyed soulless souls

fast cars on road

they seek validation in forever looking busy

when they're free..they're boring and bored

much like these building

that sprout up like mushrooms

making holes

in sky like shores

buried in clouds

painted with kohl

of tireless chimneys

soot spouting bowls

paned with mirrors

pained with horror

a busy bright shoal

shimmering like gold

swimming without a cause

swimming because..

they're on top of their life's goal

run hurry run

make a million similar mould

of the same thing you've ever done

of the same thing you'll ever do

mentally registers these moments

type a silent 'lol' 

Update

Is there any blogger app from where j can a mange two blogpost accounts? Cuz currently I have a blogger app and fantastic as it is, I can only seem to manage one blogspot account from there. 

The weather is ridiculously cold here in Shanghai..all because it's raining. Ugh. I'm supposed to begin house hunting today and even before it started I decided to give myself a brunch break. Yeah. Food before I get into a nasty mood. This is going to be a very long day and I hope to kee my spirits up.

Dr. Strange not so strange

Just watched the teaser trailer of the upcoming movie Dr. strange and looks like 'Inception' swallowed 'Matrix' and took a huge dump in a big budget jade toilet of tired cinema. I mean what was going on? And why is Tilda Swinton looking like white Morpheus doing a shitty imitation of that bald kid from the last airbender?

Yeah ok Marvel is coming up with yet another gazillion dollar money churner which looks like a garbled mash of undigested chutney. 

It's the same routine with glitzier graphics and that's about it. Even the costumes look recycled. Long flowing capes..Chinese cultural revolution garbs but with an upscale luxurious modern ivory glint..like they'd been spun by artisan monks of Tibetan monasteries who used silk worms that fed on organic mulberry fertilized with God poop.

Man this whole thing needs a reboot. It feels like layers upon layers of the same old same old, and now we need something to revolutionize the way these superhero movies look and feel. 

It's started to grow stale and the plots are beginning to rot. What plot? There's never any change. Self doubt and then enlightenment.

A few losses followed by a spectacular win. 

Death and rebirth. 

It's dr. Strange for heavens sake, not dr. Routine movie fixings of salvaged edits of similar movie drafts. 

I'm so done with this shit! 

 

Eyes

Can they settle on something and stare at it for a moment longer than an excited exhale
they flit away in a delirious urgency from bright screen to a paper pale
undecided and frenzied
attached to a skull and detached from a brain I proudly carry
silent spectators to a life passing by every day, abbreviating itself with each breath
they see everything and control nothing
not even when they blink, often surprised when red threads cloud the whites

they stay wide, ajar.. you're begging to sew themselves shut
they close indiscriminately on seeing a mammoth sized gash in your existence, when you're bleeding from the cut
they lock becoming blind to a geometry of prophetic mistakes that're impossible to miss
and yet refuse to ignore a speck of dust in the keyhole of an oft used door, a spilled drop of water on chaste white floor
neglecting ruins, correcting trivial flaws

Portals to another world; they can see, how I wished things would be
someone rolling on green grass, wearing moss adorned with leaves
strung with petals, moaning in perfumed galaxies
dilated pupils, thriving in a sanctuary of colours..some red, some white
sickening merger of wet dreams,
wishful unsustainable reality that ne'er once existed, nor it will
legitimate fantasy if you concentrate hard through the pitch black light

If only I could be what I wished I could see.

aargh audiobook 401

I just have a moment to carve these words before I pick up my machete and go on a hunting spree and find the sadist who didn't upload the last two chapters of the audiobook 'the blade itself' by Joe Abercrombie.
I mean here I am, sketching away like penance, listening to the wonder that is this fabulous book, and lo! it abruptly ends on me..and I'm like wha?
This isn't done. Come on. I need to know what happened. The last two chapters..come on. Someone..anyone.
I can't find it anywhere, not on youtube considering I was listening to this book on youtube. Can't find it. Nope. Not even on audiobbokbay, cuz in fact even the chapters are amiss on that site too.

SOBS.

Seasons

The weather is changing. There'd be no more need for my fluffy cloud like duvet by next week. I'd have to replace them all with thick blankets. 

It's what they call rain season here, though it's always rain season in my town, but this season marks the end of winters and spring, which means Summer's right around the corner. 

It rains..nay, it pours. I guess we'll need to start packing jackets by next month. 

The weather is still cold..you can't venture out without a layer of thin sweater and a denim jacket, but in a couple of weeks there'd be need for just the one layer and after that none layer.

Ugh, summers..no I don't hate it. It's just that Summer's bring with it a noxious invasion of soulless fruitflies. Now those, I could do without. 

Oddball dreams

Retaining dreams is an alien work of fiction for my system, but some dreams do end up sticking around for a matter of few moments because they're so stupidly bizzarre they jolt the living sleep out of you. 

So this dream I had, sometime around morning and uh I mean what? 

Dream: I was all set for watching the new 'sex and the city movie' and halfway through I realize it's a zombie flick. The four female lead characters are getting embroiled in relationships with men who turn out to be zombies and end up hacking the girls to pieces. All through this the  four female protagonists continue having their usual conversation on fashion, shopping, shoes and men with all the witty banter and quirky innuendoes. 

I can't get over how weirdly normal they are with their skulls split open oozing brain matter, stomachs slashed in places to reveal spleens and arms barely hanging to their shoulders. 

They end up killing the zombie men and go about their day totally broken and bleeding and bitching about it. 

And I'm so scared cuz they're having conversations with me and discussing the newest range of Manolo Blahniks while I'm breaking in cold sweat thinking of all the zombies that are out and about and In fact at some point start thinking that these women might have turned into one too..so I make a break for it and run down a house using stairs..and I climb down stairs jumping one flight at a time. I mean really, and the girls are shouting for me to come back upstairs because there might be zombies out on the prowl, and in fact I see one walking towards me in a hot pink couture and now I'm confused, so confused that I woke up. 

Phew, back to reality in my warm duvet and a sudden realization that I'm sort of sweating..not because of the dream but because the weather is a bit warmer now.

Goddammit

Goddammit! It's 2016 and people are still waxing rhymes about heartbreaks. Come one! heart break poetry is so 19th century. Tumblr seems to be full of that. Goddammit!

stuff

Okay, so I'm slowly transferring some poems and stories to the new tumblr acc. I don't know what difference it's really going to make except there'd be one place where I can keep posting stuff that isn't just whatever.
Does tumblr have one of those blog like personalities where older stuff can be displayed on the side?
I've a good mind to make an instagram account and start posting poems there. Like those screenshots of poems. laughable indeed. I don't think I can manage so many social media accounts..for all you know my interest in any online shenanigans might just start waning if I'm saddled with handling oh so much stuff. gah!

lovehate ugh.

My entire night was a Baz Luhrmanesque dream sequence. It was bigger than life, gaudily colourful and full of musical numbers..and if that wasn't enough, there was an entire scene dedicated to freudian conversation amongst people I know and some I don't about some past happenings of my life that I didn't think I'd ever divulge even if I were set on fire..on my pyre..but there it was..stark naked and freely discussed, while I stood there sheepish..waiting for someone to get mad at me, and somehow everyone looked so extremely sane and rational without the slightest hint of anger or even raised voices.
What was going on? Everything seemed so free and happy and yet somehow creepy. I wanted to be a part of it, but kept taking a step back.
It's like I know what's good for me, and yet I don't freely give in to it, because I know how much it will hurt. Stupid hurt, that which can't be seen..only felt; the pain of which is so searing I know it'd tear me apart..and I have not the will to in me to push it away.
Ah but look what it's really caused. Fear, paranoia, stress..so much so that I fell physically sick and still recuperating, and keep relapsing time and again.
The best part is I know, just like I did I my dream that getting out of it would do me a world of good. It'd stop the anxiety, the stress, kill the fear and extinguish my paranoia..but no. I gain nothing submerged in this quagmire (oh this lovely quagmire) except happiness that I believe is happiness. To me it is. It's the invisible warmth, unseen unreal love..all of which belongs to me..none whatsoever is mine to claim.

ugh.

D-oh

As I was saying, I'm thinking of transferring stories and poems from this blog to a tumblr account, so there'd be a place singularly reserved for stories and such.
The only problem is that I can't come up with a name for a blog..I mean it's not one of those impossibly difficult things that life throws at you..but when it suddenly comes to christening something with a name my head's an arid desert of gibberish sandstorms.

It's like when I'm seriously trying to come up with something, my brain starts conspiring against my thoughts and throws into the musing mix some choicest kitsch titles like

• ceramicwallet
• thunderwax
• wastewordland
• nervechime
• poeticallusions
• versewhisper
• wordprint
• alphabeticalsnooze
• scribblehaze

I mean what the hell? what on earth brain? I mean why? 

Day and then Night

In my possession is a magicians hat that pulls out excuses instead of rabbits.
Excuses that fill up my day..some of which have atrophied, some evaporated, some lingered on as hobbies and habits.
And that is my day
crammed to the throat
copiously abundant
to the point of ugly bloat
with excuses to stay busy
some which spill over
into the next day, and I roll my eyes dramatically dizzy.
oh I'm so lazy (I feign) a yawn..didn't even realize, the day has come and gone

Enter night left of stage, right through my window
with trepidation I realize
no gullible little fool this
this discerning night
turning blind eye to my excuses
gazing accusingly at me
knowingly scrutinizing. Challenge accepted! I'll give it a fight.
skinny, dark, thin. tar black and pricks like a pin
I open a book and stare at words, I'm reading..only I'm not
my little theatric of excuses
coming undone each filthy night
still pretending to read, I think I might get caught, by this thousand eyed gloom
that lingers on in my room
dusk to noon. It knows my little charade
when each time I turn a page immersed in plot
and stifle a real yawn
when I masquerade into a poem or pretend to art. When I adjust my spectacles, sneering into the day, laughing at it gobble my excuses.
When night comes, it tears down that singular facade
my pretty veneer of smug smart.
Dearest night..gimme a break. Have a heart!

Thoughts

In other news I'm thinking of slowly but surely transferring stories and some poems from this blog into a tumblr account just dedicated to stories and poems.
What about this blog? why of course I need a place to update everygoddamthing and rant and cry and get pissed off and post pics on..I mean come on.

Perhaps I'll dedicate this day to thinking up a name and transferring some stuff and post a link here..soon.

back from outer space and back to bleh

Ho hum, another day and I'm back to base camp after a few days of frolicking amidst gardens and flowers. yay, home..shouldn't that make us happy etc.. but nope. Maybe I've not had my fill of being out and about, roaming, shopping, loitering, hiking..instead of the usual cleaning, cooking, washing dishes and other toneless routine.
God, just walking back into the house and the thought of unpacking, preparing dinner for tonight and worse..pushing clothes in to the washing machine nearly gave me a seizure. And I think I was in a fit of dizzy spells until reality set in and I realized for good or for worse here I am..in my domus..goddammit! me casa and there's no way out my laddie.
 So before changing out of my travel stained clothes, I diligently unpacked (yuck) and stuffed clothes in my washing machine, and pretended I was feeding a monster and that made me happy if even for a fleeting second. My roomba, the light of my life was in full swing and ate up whatever little layer of dust might have accumulated in the past few days. It now rests charging for cleaning action numero dos, and I think the house can stay this way for another day.
I inject myself into the monotonous drear starting tomorrow..for now I'm still shimmering in my 'I ain't gonna do jackshit today' glow.

Flowered (part deux)

It started raining Saturday night, and it didn't just rain..let's say if Indra ever wanted to showcase the best of his works in a Vedic god museum then Saturday night would have been his masterpiece. 

There were thunderstorms, bright flashes of lights like happy heavens on a selfie spree and the waterworks did not stop. Not even when the earth threatened to tilt over under the sheer weight of broken clouds pouring down on a certain part of this country. 

The rains did not stop, not even on Sunday, though they were reduced to a gentle simper or merciful giggle of their earlier barbaric versions of violent imitations of broken dams.

Venturing out to stare at flowers would probably be the first act that'd be enough to assign anyone to a loony bin on a day like this, but since when did a little harmless walk on a sunless rainy day ever be such a bad thing. 

True it's not the the day for your favourite pair of suede shoes but you've not known wonders until you've walked out under a mellow drizzle, huddled under an umbrella and stared at flowers..because flowers as beautiful as they are on a sunny bright day tend to look oddly prettier when they're bejeweled, bedewd and soaked to the stamens with opalescent raindrops.

What do I say? Rains aren't always as bad. Perhaps you'd grow to love them in a park, in a garden, under a tree surrounded by flowers. 

Flowered

There were flowers and there were flowers and then some more. 

Boy has spring sprung..and right now it's raining. 

Train of thoughts on useless tracks