How to be a Popstar

Let's invade Pluto
There's some trash in my cranium
I'm spaced and I play poker
Win some, lose some
Make no sense
And return for me
In your hand them fish and chips
Saturday night lip to lip
Music and feet on the floor
Yay! Yay! I can't sleep

It's all about being a Popstar.

(originally written: 3:57 p.m., 23rd March 2007)

Half Lived

The burning cigarette gave warmth to her body from the inside. The drizzling rain sent a cool breeze across the world. Everything was three shades darker than normal. Greens were greener and grays grayer. The heart was ten shades bluer.

Take in the smoke, let out the tears. The ashes blew away in a whirl to another land. She watched every particle move away from her. Sitting at the window sill she could feel death twenty four floors down. The thought of it caused a wry smile across her pale face.

She left the half finished cigarette to rest on the ashtray. In a fraction of a second she leapt out of the window abandoning the four walled room.

Look 'ere! Oi' Mista! Where d'ya think yer going? Read my bludy blog! I sit 'ere all day, bloggin' and typin'! Don't you just walk off on me now, yea?

Elasticity?

Remember 12th grade CBSE economics? I used to love it! Elasticity of demand and elasticity of supply... all of that. Why am I talking about it here, you ask?

The answer to the above question carries 6 marks.
ans. (refer to page 61 of Goyal publication's Creating Economics out of your boredom)


There, I think I just created a little bit of demand for the non-existent book. Interesting. I must be the author of it.

"With my mind, sir!", replied Billy, when asked with what he mixed his colours.

The above words were scribbled by Bhaiya on my notebook that i had bought in 12th grade. He said that it was the most inspirational quote he had ever come across. It made no sense to me at that time. Since then I have been trying to decipher what is in this quote that inspires my mentor.

And every day that I have lived since I repeat these words in my head at least once. It sounds more magical with the aging of the memory...

A dozen times

I drew, I threw it away
I thought, I threw it away
I made, I threw it away
A dozen times, I threw it away

A dozen times, I walk down
I throw myself into the sea
A dozen times, I think about it
I threw it away to think

Make it double, the space in my head
Fly away in the emptiness
Blank imitation of space
Words wrapped around my chopsticks
(Where did the noodles go?)

New sound, vibrate
A song to sing
You sing like her
I stare in confusion and smile

I need to do this a dozen times
Swim in the head and mind
Sleep, wake up, stand up, speak up
A dozen times, throw it away then

Disposable thoughts
disconnect in randomness
Plastic mind pollutes the world of ideas
Wraps it within and keeps it suppressed

Instead, tear the plasticity
Send the brain for a toss
Throw it away
A dozen times