Sometimes it's so pointless hanging around men. The most productive thing you can do with them is: listen to music and look into the distance and think you're own thing about colours and textures; guess who the bimbos are? Been having a nice time with girlfriends this past month, theres less in the way, no dumb game inbetween. We havent thrown them over yet (donkeygiggle).
Point 2: i'm throwing in the towel, the hat, the shoe, the spanner, the whole work thing I've been doing this past year on airport road. have to tell the top dawgs. why am i letting it go? i'm sorry but with a twinkle of a misty thing in the eye: i've just run out of steam. just run out of it. i think i'll miss everyone and the bottle I used to suck out of, the seat i used to warm, the natgeo pic poster of the baby meerkat,...but it has to go. (i'm not following a certain scriptwriter to bombay to become superstar.)
Right now with the Goetheanam on the desktop, pearl jam's last kiss playing back, i ask as i teeter with a toothtip on the rim of a teacup: what does it take, whens that exact moment - that we've left childhood forever. when did we become terminally adult. We cant go back so don't go there. Maybe I'll lay my cousin and get it back. Apart from all that. Before I leave this blog and the city for good, there are a couple of entries that I've decided this space should show:

-The history, the fun and torture of the bra - (like what the fuck is a D cup?)
-All you need to know about chronic motion sickness
-My all new nightfixcap

I'm ready to spend the rest of my life with a golden lab.

O. and the dog's name is to be: Krishnamurthy.

The dudest mall of all time? I would still want Ramanujan (even if he isnt mull).

Meanwhile this is Kim Thayil. (in case you cant read).

Why do I always leave my key behind when theyre out for the night. So now I have to sit at this net bar till they come back and my legs are paining and are very tired and my brains dying. hell.

I'm fucked. This time I have to look out for a new place thats cheap. This means goodbye travel plans. To be called a bitch behind your back by your own f&b - that just takes the dungcake. I also dont have patience right now for ppl who ask questions like: what do I think of hindu religioius imagery; do i feel alienated? fuck you - ask yourself. right now I dont think im expecting much when i'm asking for a cheap place with a nice owner and water-elec. shit.

I think the sordid fact that yie yam actually a dyslexic masquerading as a copycritter is coming to blazing light. Time for a profession change. Cos really: 1) hit the ceiling 2) cant find an assistant 3) am really dyslexic 4) have been seeing the end of the road of me as copycritter for some time now 5) cant spell 6) have developed eye problems; may actually be going blind 7) o ye - and yam also not a perfectionist in the grammar detail / spelling sense as critters are meant to be, so ...
Bleeding fuck-lucked jew. So now i'm beginning to sympathise with all the beggars and blinders on the road. I hear that life is no easier though I might learn another language. Lets see.

The Pig Sneezes into the Heart

Theres so much synchronicitous shit happening since birth that you don't mention it. But here's an event for the record: At the fraudulent Strand Sale playing out at Chinnaswamy Stadium, walked in on Sunday morning and ambled till i landed at the inevitable art corner. Once the fill was had, swung round dramatically like a raptor dino attacked, and sneezed loud so everyone looked for some time. Then in the heat right after the rapture, turned open the book closest to my stretched hand and flipped it open to a page describing the artwork and titled the same - The Pig Sneezes into the Heart by Kurt Schwitter. It was page 60 of the book "Dadaism" by Dietmar Elger.

suddenly i thought, looking into the eyes of a dog and then a cat, that its very likely that the dogs the result of a cross between a man and a 4-legged creature, and the cats a result of a cross between a woman and a 4-legged cret.

you need to be a certain age to gauge a certain world view.
After straight tall vodkas and 2 breezers i still walked in a straight line back 2 kms to a kind of home. braving policemen who looked sidelong at one point. for crying out. was it the jacket?