| Current mood: |  dorky |
Lovely While It Lasted
Blong
Chapter One
There's a small moon that orbits Vorgon 8. Strange would be a bad euphimism to describe it's orbit. Mostly it resembles the path a dazed mosquito would follow once it's had a few sniffs of Courtney Love's hair. Pundits on Vorgon 8 described the behaviour as "Unnnh!", and when asked to elaborate, their answer was "Uuh-nnnn-hhh", leaving several skeptical about the logic behind asking pundits about it in the first place considering they lived atop snow capped mountains all their lives, and just getting to them was a major hassle involving Sherpas, who themselves were an odd lot speaking monosyllabically all their lives.
Once every 36,483 years, Vorgon 8, it's fourth Sun, and it's intoxicated moon, align themselves in an immense solar eclipse that engulfs Vorgon 8 entirely for sometimes upto five and a half hours, depending on which time zone you follow. A magnetic field so strong is generated that it wipes out Vorgon 8's complete electricity grid, leaving an already dark planet without air conditioning and vending machines. No one ventures out on the desolate streets, which, due to aesthetically defeatist town planning, often resemble orbits of intoxicated moons.
Don't, under any circumstances, however desperate, take bus number 88 from Worli to V.T. As innocent as the sign that says "88 Ballard Pier" may seem, trust me, it's interntions are everything but friendly. Precisely 78 minutes after you alight the damn thing at Century Bazar, it will drop you off at V.T. station, worn out, and that too on the wrong side, for a journey that ought not take more than 45 minutes, 48 at max. Traversing lanes meant for motorcycles, and other spritely TWO wheelers, this monstronsity of public transport aims to frustrate you to such an extent that you might as well have walked it from Worli in the first place. And this is just me. Imagine women!
I'm slowly shifting loyalties to the new Yahoo Messenger. I think it's mostly because of easy access to my radio station, which rocks by the way. And one day, I was so bored I even made one of those avtar thingies, that doesn't resemble me in the slightest, but makes funny faces anyways.
The discman's fixed! Oh yes, oh yes. An evil thought struck me a few days ago. Maybe I should consider repairing the thing instead of burning a hole in my already torn pockets to buy a new one. So, I went to the gadget repair guy at Colaba market, and with a mind made up that I wouldn't pay more than a thousand bucks to fix it, come what may, I asked the guy how much the repair job would cost. "Kam se kam 75 rupees lagega!" (At the minimum it'll cost 75 bucks). At first, I could've sworn I heard it as seven fifty.
Anyways, I had to get it fixed at Crawford coz the guy at Colaba didn't have the part. It cost me 200 bucks there, and to celebrate I purchased the most God-smackingly amazing set of Panasonic headphones that make 'All My Life' by the Foo Fighters sound like an earthquake. They're way comfy-er than earplugs, and block out a lot of outside noise just by the ear padding. I'm gonna buy a new guitar next month.
Rogeroo may finally be getting it's act together. I can't believe we've actually played nearly 30 covers. And a new original may be in the making, so things are looking up.
CAT forms are out. Another phase of feline dislike begins. Hopefully, I won't have to do it two times, because as we all are so familiar with these days, once is a charm, twice is just a bitch.
Pop-up ads, and spam are getting to be much of a bore, just like the multitudes of sad people. Also, hypocrites. And not forgetting people who blame you for things they've caused, and then pretend anger by silence. Not many people think, but some might say.
Song: All My Life - Foo Fighters
Poetry In Static
Will I find something in that
So give me just what I need
Another reason to bleed
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
Thought
Simple pleasures make more sense than complex ones.
Till next time...
Bled Myself Dry, That's Why
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