all for me
swims around in circles
all mine
all mine
all rise
the court is in session
would you like to have a chocolate missy?
no, i prefer cool muskmelons left in the freezer. to feel my brain freeze and the dribbles.
i want to ride the blind parakeet
watermelon colddrips too
gone are the days of tender and scratch
now its all dogs and bitches
will be over soon
will be over soon
in one quick slice of the lance
all at one
want me magyck back
no
dont show and tell calvin
i want black lace i say
black lace
but a grotesque body is so hard to achieve
i wish i could endure
i try so hard
try toothbrush she said
so it'll be a dream
la belle dame sans merci
black lace and the mourning jewel of the princess' hair locked inside
velvet suede and a bloodrose.
you need the chill though
silence! the court is in session. she had shadows in her hair that woman who spoke so fast and she stumbled and bruised herself but she let her tongue loose \the nights that grew out of her frazzled hairs... many swift feet dancing their nightly prayers...Dancing down the stairs... frazzled hairs having affairs My eyes schlepped. ....but her frazzled hairs, said their prayers and had affairs...disagree disagree disagree it must be me.
coming back to the sunflower seeds
or do i mean pumpkin seeds
i really meant to write melon seeds.
ma
there! absolved.
Tuesday, February 27
Tuesday, February 20
shokol niye boshe thaka shorbonasher ashaye
sup says pari's ajji puts his neice to sleep singing
majhi sonyachi chakuli
tu baher nako jaus
tula porach martil
tujhya angatlach kadhtil
tujhya angat nahi bal
tu chimta kadhun pal
i want to write of gran stories
of poor little princesses banished and salt
and rhymes sung with baby on shin
of curly knotted hair, river veins and oil dribbling from crevices
of the surprise summer showers when mangoes and plums dried
and the sharp tang of pickled tetul
tar shojol chokhe kajol chhilo na
chhilo na ashadh megher badhon chhilo, badol chhilo na.
majhi sonyachi chakuli
tu baher nako jaus
tula porach martil
tujhya angatlach kadhtil
tujhya angat nahi bal
tu chimta kadhun pal
i want to write of gran stories
of poor little princesses banished and salt
and rhymes sung with baby on shin
of curly knotted hair, river veins and oil dribbling from crevices
of the surprise summer showers when mangoes and plums dried
and the sharp tang of pickled tetul
tar shojol chokhe kajol chhilo na
chhilo na ashadh megher badhon chhilo, badol chhilo na.
Wednesday, February 14
blood and acrylic
i have always been fascinated by menstrual blood. so intensely magnetic i find it. when i still it in my palms, it sucks me into myself.
when i was eighteen, the women i drew always menstruated. There was a pool of brick red beside them. I don't know if it is to decode as shame. I cannot, no matter how much i try, think of menstrual blood as waste or something to be sanitised. It is beautiful and so feverishly intriguing. I can watch it do the slow dance under water, all by itself. or slithe on my palms surprising me by its changing character. sometimes a surrendering liquid, next moment the same pool defined and linked.
On days when I come out rich beetroot, i want to keep it. in my homoeopathy pill bottles. to share it with someone.To watch the magic as i let it rest on my palm. And when i don't bleed anymore, i will mourn. That when i sit under the shower, there is no red whose flames lick up with the flowing water.
when i was eighteen, the women i drew always menstruated. There was a pool of brick red beside them. I don't know if it is to decode as shame. I cannot, no matter how much i try, think of menstrual blood as waste or something to be sanitised. It is beautiful and so feverishly intriguing. I can watch it do the slow dance under water, all by itself. or slithe on my palms surprising me by its changing character. sometimes a surrendering liquid, next moment the same pool defined and linked.
On days when I come out rich beetroot, i want to keep it. in my homoeopathy pill bottles. to share it with someone.To watch the magic as i let it rest on my palm. And when i don't bleed anymore, i will mourn. That when i sit under the shower, there is no red whose flames lick up with the flowing water.
Sunday, January 21
ma is looking for a boy for me. i know she wants me to go for my niece's wedding so she can hook me up with an eligible. i dont think i can take so many days off work. maybe i should go. maybe i should wear my sexiest blue bandhani choli with the bandhani georgette saree. wear a minaworked or filigree nosering.kajal.
i want to have babies and i am worried i wont end up with a man that i trust with full abandon
i want to have babies and i am worried i wont end up with a man that i trust with full abandon
Saturday, January 6
this post's for me
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
apine apple
apine apple
apine apple
pine apple
apine apple
slow motion
mildew
sorrrow sodden
mildew
mildew
sodden
moron
sillybillygoat
breaks his horn
now what
csa
cas
casa
mexicana
now what
now what
blue
blue
prelude
blue
blue
blue
blue
bling
bling
bling
psycho
meterioroid
howdyouspellthat
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
repeat
ctrl alt delete
so now what
okay
too bad
now leave
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
he takes out his gun
and rocks her world
umm is that the right word to use
rocks her world?
anyway
meanwhile
now what does he do
what does she do
what will happen
wheres the time for going back now
does he think about
is it gone
poof into thin air
anyway
there will be time
to ebb and flow
a time to leave and atime to heal
turn turn turn
i like that song
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
dinosaur
plays
in a level playing field
pterodactyls
i was 2 when i went to school i believe
actually i was almost 3
but i believe i was 2
and my ma did do my homework with her left hand
and i lost my pencilbox
it was yellow
in auxillium convent
flat yellow
and the next day i saw it on top of the cupboard
and i dint say it was mine
cause i hated attenion
so maureen miss walked around the class asking for claim
i dint claim
i still wonder why
wow i was scared of nuns
sister superior
i thought her name was sister supeeriya.
maureen miss wore simple a-line frocks.
frock needs can can
not a frock
ladies dress hem line just below the knee with half umbrella cut and a belt the same color
and i thought boys pee-d backwards. what does that mean?
peeing backwards.
meanwhile
i remember the smell of peppered boiled egg when i opened my plastic tiffin box
the smell of green guava cut into two mingling with boiled eggs peppered.
and i'd feel at home. comfort food. and i'd love choking on the yoke. and love the smokey overboiled smell that rubbed off on the guava.
shelled boiled eggs and choking make me feel womby.
the tables in auxillium were steel green and shiny. They had grey foldable whatchumaycallit. undersides on which the greensteel rested. pods? and we had sleeping period. we slept after lunch.
everybody had to compulsorily put their headsdown. i couldnt sleep like that and the older girls came down to monitor us. strange. anyway then there was the loo class. everyone had to go to the loo to pee in a straight line single file. the loo was khaki light coming through frosted glass on top. ventilator?
anyway. then i came home by schoolbus. The usher was called manoranjan-da. hmm. and everytime i got off they'd say chandrani bye! and i dint know what to say. i was embarassed at so much attention. i hated auxillium. now that i think of it. and i remember being confused that this girl neha/ niti had 2 names. i remember telling my father " Neha Niti same" and i sat down each time bringing my skirt behind me neat, with my legs together crossed one on the other like i was in a nunnery. my mom thinks i have 'regressed' now. frog she calls me when i sleep especially.
what to do
she called me a social butter fly this supriya in her blog. referring to me Dec 31. sometimes i have a cheerful disposition and a surprise myself at how sociable i can be. dhiren the host said i knew more people than he did. anyway. i surprise myself.
asima hjas beautiful eyes, full of karuna like she saw a bomb blow up her home. she has the deepest voice. no not manly. but just deep.how to say. emerging from some memory. i see her far far away. why do i see her far far away. she loves old monk neat i know. she drank and drank and drank and sat on the swing and got qoozy and passed out. that was at the end of TY. why was she at the party i cant remember. she came with shuchi. but it was a lit party what was an eco doing there. or did she major AIC?
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
prince ali khandani ali of agrabah
tomorrow my day is packed
god Hr, Hen, Tbsh, Frh...who else? ma is leaving for kolkata again. should i get drunk with H and H tomorrow? they share the same bday. 2 of my closests.
mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
hmm hmm hmmm hmm hmmmmmm if i saw you in heaven
when i was small i thought girls who dint wear petticoat(camisole?) under their uniforms were immoral. and those who wore small white undies without duckie frills at the back were bad girls and should be punished (this is when i was 3). shame to them. I kept a good distance from them. then one day i learnt deepali this girl who ui thought was a good girl dint wear petticoat and i was so upset. and this i am talking about lower primary school through primary school.
In senior school my bes friend was the one who refused to wear a bra like all the other girls who were so desperate to get into one. she wore a petticoat. so she wasnt like "those kind of girls". She was a good girl. This girl Samantha wore only the bra and no petticoat. I was mortified when she sat next to me. and then i found she had a boyfriend. to add to that i found that SHE STUDIED NOT FROM HER OWN NOTES BUT FROM THE NAVNEET GUIDE. OMYGOD! terrible. one day she was talking to me and i felt physically sick because she was that chick who had boobs and dint attempt to hide it under 3 layers of underclothing and flattening sports bra and had a skirt 2 inches shorter than it was supposed to be and rolled her socks down and had a boyfriend EWWWWWW and studied from omygod the navneet guide AND she sucked at Math. I was scared of that type. People who couldnt do math. and people who couldnt spell.
now i think i was so frikkin judgemental.
so when did i grow up! ? i cant quite place it. i think i grew up in the 10th standard. when my english teacher said very casually while doing Vanity Fair with us that in the 16th century men liked women with big bosom. ? wha? that doesnt make sense. and i started loving tgrammar cause i was so good at figures of speech and most people sucked at it. when did i grow up?
i was TERRIBLE in school. cheee. but i washed my hair everyday. why dont do that now? and i had think hair. not like this jhadu i have now.
and that prayer we recited.
the more i learn the btter i see how little i know
how little i kow of my own capacity to know
every branch of knowledge is so rick so complex
one can study a lifetime and still be a beginner.
......
dont remember anymore
i was good at art. always. and i was good at language. both of these were effortless. and i was good at sciences. and i took pride in being good at math. and i took pride in getting bad marks in history and geography because that meant that i was smart and intellegent and logic driven and not a stupid dumchick who MUGGED her way.
i've wasted the best years of my life.
now what.
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
apine apple
apine apple
apine apple
pine apple
apine apple
slow motion
mildew
sorrrow sodden
mildew
mildew
sodden
moron
sillybillygoat
breaks his horn
now what
csa
cas
casa
mexicana
now what
now what
blue
blue
prelude
blue
blue
blue
blue
bling
bling
bling
psycho
meterioroid
howdyouspellthat
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
repeat
ctrl alt delete
so now what
okay
too bad
now leave
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
he takes out his gun
and rocks her world
umm is that the right word to use
rocks her world?
anyway
meanwhile
now what does he do
what does she do
what will happen
wheres the time for going back now
does he think about
is it gone
poof into thin air
anyway
there will be time
to ebb and flow
a time to leave and atime to heal
turn turn turn
i like that song
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
dinosaur
plays
in a level playing field
pterodactyls
i was 2 when i went to school i believe
actually i was almost 3
but i believe i was 2
and my ma did do my homework with her left hand
and i lost my pencilbox
it was yellow
in auxillium convent
flat yellow
and the next day i saw it on top of the cupboard
and i dint say it was mine
cause i hated attenion
so maureen miss walked around the class asking for claim
i dint claim
i still wonder why
wow i was scared of nuns
sister superior
i thought her name was sister supeeriya.
maureen miss wore simple a-line frocks.
frock needs can can
not a frock
ladies dress hem line just below the knee with half umbrella cut and a belt the same color
and i thought boys pee-d backwards. what does that mean?
peeing backwards.
meanwhile
i remember the smell of peppered boiled egg when i opened my plastic tiffin box
the smell of green guava cut into two mingling with boiled eggs peppered.
and i'd feel at home. comfort food. and i'd love choking on the yoke. and love the smokey overboiled smell that rubbed off on the guava.
shelled boiled eggs and choking make me feel womby.
the tables in auxillium were steel green and shiny. They had grey foldable whatchumaycallit. undersides on which the greensteel rested. pods? and we had sleeping period. we slept after lunch.
everybody had to compulsorily put their headsdown. i couldnt sleep like that and the older girls came down to monitor us. strange. anyway then there was the loo class. everyone had to go to the loo to pee in a straight line single file. the loo was khaki light coming through frosted glass on top. ventilator?
anyway. then i came home by schoolbus. The usher was called manoranjan-da. hmm. and everytime i got off they'd say chandrani bye! and i dint know what to say. i was embarassed at so much attention. i hated auxillium. now that i think of it. and i remember being confused that this girl neha/ niti had 2 names. i remember telling my father " Neha Niti same" and i sat down each time bringing my skirt behind me neat, with my legs together crossed one on the other like i was in a nunnery. my mom thinks i have 'regressed' now. frog she calls me when i sleep especially.
what to do
she called me a social butter fly this supriya in her blog. referring to me Dec 31. sometimes i have a cheerful disposition and a surprise myself at how sociable i can be. dhiren the host said i knew more people than he did. anyway. i surprise myself.
asima hjas beautiful eyes, full of karuna like she saw a bomb blow up her home. she has the deepest voice. no not manly. but just deep.how to say. emerging from some memory. i see her far far away. why do i see her far far away. she loves old monk neat i know. she drank and drank and drank and sat on the swing and got qoozy and passed out. that was at the end of TY. why was she at the party i cant remember. she came with shuchi. but it was a lit party what was an eco doing there. or did she major AIC?
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
prince ali khandani ali of agrabah
tomorrow my day is packed
god Hr, Hen, Tbsh, Frh...who else? ma is leaving for kolkata again. should i get drunk with H and H tomorrow? they share the same bday. 2 of my closests.
mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
hmm hmm hmmm hmm hmmmmmm if i saw you in heaven
when i was small i thought girls who dint wear petticoat(camisole?) under their uniforms were immoral. and those who wore small white undies without duckie frills at the back were bad girls and should be punished (this is when i was 3). shame to them. I kept a good distance from them. then one day i learnt deepali this girl who ui thought was a good girl dint wear petticoat and i was so upset. and this i am talking about lower primary school through primary school.
In senior school my bes friend was the one who refused to wear a bra like all the other girls who were so desperate to get into one. she wore a petticoat. so she wasnt like "those kind of girls". She was a good girl. This girl Samantha wore only the bra and no petticoat. I was mortified when she sat next to me. and then i found she had a boyfriend. to add to that i found that SHE STUDIED NOT FROM HER OWN NOTES BUT FROM THE NAVNEET GUIDE. OMYGOD! terrible. one day she was talking to me and i felt physically sick because she was that chick who had boobs and dint attempt to hide it under 3 layers of underclothing and flattening sports bra and had a skirt 2 inches shorter than it was supposed to be and rolled her socks down and had a boyfriend EWWWWWW and studied from omygod the navneet guide AND she sucked at Math. I was scared of that type. People who couldnt do math. and people who couldnt spell.
now i think i was so frikkin judgemental.
so when did i grow up! ? i cant quite place it. i think i grew up in the 10th standard. when my english teacher said very casually while doing Vanity Fair with us that in the 16th century men liked women with big bosom. ? wha? that doesnt make sense. and i started loving tgrammar cause i was so good at figures of speech and most people sucked at it. when did i grow up?
i was TERRIBLE in school. cheee. but i washed my hair everyday. why dont do that now? and i had think hair. not like this jhadu i have now.
and that prayer we recited.
the more i learn the btter i see how little i know
how little i kow of my own capacity to know
every branch of knowledge is so rick so complex
one can study a lifetime and still be a beginner.
......
dont remember anymore
i was good at art. always. and i was good at language. both of these were effortless. and i was good at sciences. and i took pride in being good at math. and i took pride in getting bad marks in history and geography because that meant that i was smart and intellegent and logic driven and not a stupid dumchick who MUGGED her way.
i've wasted the best years of my life.
now what.
Thursday, December 21
Wednesday, December 6
ok. this is going to be a soppy post. soppy i have to warn/call it because i have been co-opted by this all pervasive reverence of restraint.
Hmm. Now that could be a separate post too. So should I talk about being co-opted by the all pervasive reverence of restraint which seems to be a characteristic of people who want to blaze their own trails. How strange.innit? Shouldnt it be the other way? Explicit honest fearless expression to true feeling must be laughed at.(no wonder the world elevates Hemmingway and gets rid of confessional poetry) However it may be accepted if self destructively manifested (Lots good humor +mystery of skeleton in cupboard). Otherwise if manifested when drunk. perhaps accepted as kitsch of behavior.
So we put these people under the fashionably dark pink and golden sequins once in a while. Part of the reason why I think the more number of skeletons you put and the more graphic the surgeon generals warning reads on cigarette packets, sales will increase. Makes the image of ciggies more self destructive and therefore the people smoking it are revered in a clandestine way.
My thesis is that these people who wrote love poetry of abandonment, loss and its variations thereof, or of feeling lost in this wide world or inspirational idealistic poetry such as sorrow of prostitute etc. usually in obvious rhyme get their sudden jolt of embarrassment in this Restraint conspiracy and suddenly decide to become closeted. (iam not implying anything)
Now one will revel in muted tones and subtle interplay of ash and steel grey, rainbows only forming in oil spills. Party in blue. Etc. (no issues with that. I love blue too. And most people love blue. But that’s another post. Not related to this.) Now this person will admire self for becoming the true bohemian, the trail blazer that has so much character! Very Classy. Self controlled, logical, subtle, magnanimous of course while not attending to the basic anxieties. Within this matrix, crying is a self indulgence, most of all crying in front of someone else. So these people become the next gen. of co-opters. The fresh bunch will write more “terrible” poetry. Terrible only because they rhyme too easy and show themselves too easy. Its honest and the way something was felt. No interplay of grey and ash. It’s all blood and bile. No need for objective correlatives, broken lines, or a subtle clinching irony at the end. Simple things, of loving, losing, feeling. No need to describe the chipping paint and a dream of crabs while you leave the rhythm to heave and suggest.
Damn, this disclaimer’s too long. Coming to my soppy post.
I love looping songs. No, not coldplay.
Currently I am looping ‘te recuerdo amanda’. Because I don’t know another way of loving so I looplooplooplooplooploplooplooplooploop.
This song will have the fate of April come she will.
Much of my learning about self has come from looping songs.Everytime I loop a song, i lose myself in it and suddenly things appear as I had never seen them appear. Or. The same thing keeps appearing. Or the mood kept constant, the variables change.(that’s technically wrong. Cause variables don’t vary and constants aren’t constant.
I wanted to write soppy things related to my song looping and about some people but I couldn’t talk myself into writing it out. I suppose I am going to be self congratulatory about the teenyweeny bit of self restraint I have. Sigh.
Anyway, I used to listen to “I want to spend my lifetime loving you” OST mask of Zorro on tape. I also listened to Winds of change the Russian version on loop.
Or more recently April come she will. Also, OST Schindler’s List. Breakfast at tiffany’s in junior college.
Seal/A Kiss from a Rose. Don McLean- Is that the sun. you belong to me (shrek ost)
Amono dine tare bola jae. Candela. Kandisa. rosemary and thyme ! and o sanam.on tape.
Wednesday, November 29
Damn! i forgot to write about Anthony Kaun Hai
Damn! i forgot to write about Anthony Kaun Hai
the camera!
the characterisation!
the Plot!! o my sweet clementine! i want to marry a witch!
the camera!
the characterisation!
the Plot!! o my sweet clementine! i want to marry a witch!
Saturday, November 25
many things ---
1. i have a new job. rather, i have a job now. people!!
2. i am so FUKCIN annoyed with self. i dint get back to the guy who sold me my digi all these days. it wasnt some kachra stuck somewhere on lens but it was the ccd. he says warranty to gaya. you mustve done something. one more reason to give up photography.
3. then, i took my film camera back to where i bought it from, they say they cant fix it. anymore. so i cant even use my film cam anymore then.more reason to give up photography.
4. client is moron. wants pedestrian copy that'll kill his 5 years of brilliant branding. also he calls and says just before the ad has to go to print, heyy! send me the 3rd image with the 2nd text. i wantto put the guy first. wha!! hello.we dont randomly put images and text together! but of course, we send it.
5.my neice is getting married in feb and i so want to go so badly but maybe i wont get leave. besides i just went and came back thrice this year already.
6. can i ban some ip address from reading my blog?
7. has been removed by blogowner
8. do you know i wanted to be a computer programmer? but, ASCII to ASCII, DOS to DOS
9. i still think i'd have made a wonderful architect.
10. i dont think i can deal with death and dying. not anyone else's, not my own.
11. i want to write about loving.but i dont understand relationships. the more i get older, the less i understand.
12. i think this blog is getting more and more pedantic.
1. i have a new job. rather, i have a job now. people!!
2. i am so FUKCIN annoyed with self. i dint get back to the guy who sold me my digi all these days. it wasnt some kachra stuck somewhere on lens but it was the ccd. he says warranty to gaya. you mustve done something. one more reason to give up photography.
3. then, i took my film camera back to where i bought it from, they say they cant fix it. anymore. so i cant even use my film cam anymore then.more reason to give up photography.
4. client is moron. wants pedestrian copy that'll kill his 5 years of brilliant branding. also he calls and says just before the ad has to go to print, heyy! send me the 3rd image with the 2nd text. i wantto put the guy first. wha!! hello.we dont randomly put images and text together! but of course, we send it.
5.my neice is getting married in feb and i so want to go so badly but maybe i wont get leave. besides i just went and came back thrice this year already.
6. can i ban some ip address from reading my blog?
7. has been removed by blogowner
8. do you know i wanted to be a computer programmer? but, ASCII to ASCII, DOS to DOS
9. i still think i'd have made a wonderful architect.
10. i dont think i can deal with death and dying. not anyone else's, not my own.
11. i want to write about loving.but i dont understand relationships. the more i get older, the less i understand.
12. i think this blog is getting more and more pedantic.
Wednesday, November 15
its usually either me and dik // me and sup // sup and rid // sup rid and me.
but saturday night we got together all four of us after a long time.
(this below was the photosession after we woke up.)
anyway, they all took my case and dint give me dessert. riddhi and i were both pretty scared in dik's room in the night and sup did all she can to keep us scared.
about the pictures below-
the 3 strappychappal pics are (cherry color mine is) (regular strap is sup) (denim is ridd) in the middle of the night in thana on the road under a streetlamp or some such post a sudden decision dinner plan due to plan movements and as taught to me by supriya, no boni you dont have to always cancel a plan you can always move it! so now i am learning one more thing.
the last pictures have dik's feet and my hand in special appearance. and rid's foot in guest appearance.
(now that doesnt load sory)
i am writing this in a separate post cause of template trouble.
my nosering you cant see waaaah!
but saturday night we got together all four of us after a long time.
(this below was the photosession after we woke up.)
anyway, they all took my case and dint give me dessert. riddhi and i were both pretty scared in dik's room in the night and sup did all she can to keep us scared.
about the pictures below-
the 3 strappychappal pics are (cherry color mine is) (regular strap is sup) (denim is ridd) in the middle of the night in thana on the road under a streetlamp or some such post a sudden decision dinner plan due to plan movements and as taught to me by supriya, no boni you dont have to always cancel a plan you can always move it! so now i am learning one more thing.
the last pictures have dik's feet and my hand in special appearance. and rid's foot in guest appearance.
(now that doesnt load sory)
i am writing this in a separate post cause of template trouble.
my nosering you cant see waaaah!
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Monday, November 13
Tuesday, November 7
Sunday, November 5
right behind you a.k.a. i'll follow you into the dark a.k.a. i'd rather watch someone fuck a pig
Today I drank lots of coffee. I remembered the time I’d drink lots of really strong coffee.
I love radio I love the excitement of a song that plays and goes by and I don’t have any way of getting to it ever again….
I’m listening to someone that sounds as sincere and sombre as rufus wainwright in the coffeehouse station. A band called deathcab for cutie. I’ll follow you into the dark.
Meanwhile,Yahoo's radiostation for gay people - “Gay Club Mix” plays 'gay' music eg. Justin Timberlake’s “sexy back”.
I'm bringing sexy back
Them other boys don't know how to act
think your special
whats behind your back
So turn around
and ill pick up the slack.
Why does gay media(?) have to be so overly horny? I saw this film that was reviewed as being “hauntingly beautiful”, marvelously promoted by the british council. highly depressing. It’s also depressing how they screen these films in colleges and “liberated” teachers like N@ndini Sardesai tell us to confront our discomfort to accept marginal existence. I remember she showed us BomGay as being this true document of gay life. It had some guy that went to pee in some subway and got assauled by another gay man/had to suck is thing on blackmail or some such thing. Rahul Bose fantacises 2 fried eggs on someone.
I’d rather watch someone fuck a pig.
This film "Yours Emotionally" had visual metaphors(?)/suggestions such as close up of hosepipe with frothy water shooting off, hanging lightbulb in frame, cannon. Had innuendos with what the film began – sms “wher are u// right Behind you” etcetera.
Had storyline à la pornographie and they promote it saying it has the richness of an early merchant ivory film. Eventually the older couple gets married and theyre damn happy cause now they can be be monogamous. Huh?
What I take back from Yours Emotionally(?) (I dint see ANY emotion in that film except for possessiveness and jealousy. Unless horny-ness is emotion. )
-is that gay men are oversexed unnatural creatures that want to fuck any ( * ) in sight. (yikes! pun un-intended). I’d be suicidal if I were a gay man.
so little sexuality and so much fuckin sex.
" Yours Emotionally feels like a beautiful fever dream inspired by both avant-garde gay cinema and the tropes of Bollywood." avant garde, yes piss-color sea.
I love radio I love the excitement of a song that plays and goes by and I don’t have any way of getting to it ever again….
I’m listening to someone that sounds as sincere and sombre as rufus wainwright in the coffeehouse station. A band called deathcab for cutie. I’ll follow you into the dark.
Meanwhile,Yahoo's radiostation for gay people - “Gay Club Mix” plays 'gay' music eg. Justin Timberlake’s “sexy back”.
I'm bringing sexy back
Them other boys don't know how to act
think your special
whats behind your back
So turn around
and ill pick up the slack.
Why does gay media(?) have to be so overly horny? I saw this film that was reviewed as being “hauntingly beautiful”, marvelously promoted by the british council. highly depressing. It’s also depressing how they screen these films in colleges and “liberated” teachers like N@ndini Sardesai tell us to confront our discomfort to accept marginal existence. I remember she showed us BomGay as being this true document of gay life. It had some guy that went to pee in some subway and got assauled by another gay man/had to suck is thing on blackmail or some such thing. Rahul Bose fantacises 2 fried eggs on someone.
I’d rather watch someone fuck a pig.
This film "Yours Emotionally" had visual metaphors(?)/suggestions such as close up of hosepipe with frothy water shooting off, hanging lightbulb in frame, cannon. Had innuendos with what the film began – sms “wher are u// right Behind you” etcetera.
Had storyline à la pornographie and they promote it saying it has the richness of an early merchant ivory film. Eventually the older couple gets married and theyre damn happy cause now they can be be monogamous. Huh?
What I take back from Yours Emotionally(?) (I dint see ANY emotion in that film except for possessiveness and jealousy. Unless horny-ness is emotion. )
-is that gay men are oversexed unnatural creatures that want to fuck any ( * ) in sight. (yikes! pun un-intended). I’d be suicidal if I were a gay man.
so little sexuality and so much fuckin sex.
" Yours Emotionally feels like a beautiful fever dream inspired by both avant-garde gay cinema and the tropes of Bollywood." avant garde, yes piss-color sea.
Saturday, November 4
what i did in kolkata
watched eid ka chaand over the
dvitiya hooghli setu
pierced my nose for the third time and kept it though the bitch in the parlous said, hey! don't you think that looks odd and unfashionable
discovered a new + improved first cousin
drying sari at dakshineshwar
watched kids play kali shiv at dakshineshwar kali bari. Shiv says, get away you! or i'll throw this flower at you
i love the color pallette of the city
coming back train i awake lookin up ....
fine....so i cant get enough of sky
sue me
Friday, November 3
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