Jollyday

I believed with all my heart and body and soul that when I came back from 9 nights in Rajasthan, the words would flow. I had to settle for lines, and in retrospect, am happier so.

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man. -Mark Twain

Meet Big George. Guardian of our gate for the paltry sum of his daily bread.

Juxtaposition

For whom the bell tolls

Tring tring you'd sing sing
People moved, you'd pass by.
Ring ring to bring bring
Safe passage to a cycle guy.

Mute mute is your toot toot
To him within an AC car
Now it's - shoot shoot! Gotta scoot scoot
Or go sprawling on your handle bar.

O tiny cycle bell,
a bigger bell tolls for you
You time has come, your day is done
Goodbye, goodnight, aideu.

Love letter to a lost cause

Inspiration, you pretentious bitch. Wipe away your fakeup, take a mood-fixing bubble bath, make yourself people-friendly and stop hiding in dark corners, hoping to be found. Let me see you in the mirror. Let me wake up next to you. Let me stand under your friggin’ umbrella; Wear you like Iron Man’s armour; Bless the day I found you. Dedicate blogposts to how you've made me simply legendary instead. For fuck’s sake, what are you waiting for?

Don't bother reading

SPOILER NOTIFICATION: *WHINE ALERT*

It is 13:03 pm. I’ve been hitting snooze on my “Get A Life” alarm since 8 am this sunny Saturday. But the nightmare they call procrastination is too momentarily comforting to let go off. I’m running dangerously low on "passion", "inspiration" and "commitment". However, I have an abundance of inconsequential writing that I need to get done:

• There’s that thing for those people
• That other thing for those other people
• Oh, and one more thing for one more person.

What and who are of no consequence to you because they are really of no consequence to me.

I, however, am of consequence to them. Whether their website is reading better than it used to, will depend on how much sunshine I’m able to convert into mental energy today. Whether that frustrated middle-aged executive (who’s picking his nose at 10 am on Tuesday) will have one more piece of garbage to play wastepaper-basketball with, will depend on how protein-rich my lunch is now. And whether that Marketing Executive at a certain telecommunications solution provider will have one more ethically questionable EDM to pass around, will depend on how much water my body absorbs in the next few hours.

That's a lot of responsibility, innit. Not. So much for trying to be positive. Guess it's better luck next whinny-post-time.

You are welcome to feel sorry for me.

Chicken Little