It’s that sort of a day when you continue to listen to a song on repeat. Not just because you are too lazy to do something about it, but because you want to wrap yourself in the familiarity.

It’s that sort of a week in which you wonder how things you never imagined could happen to you actually happen.

It’s that sort of month which fills you with both excitement and anticipation.

It’s that sort of a year which feels like you are living someone else’s life and any minute now you will  snap out of it and then everything will go back to as it were before.

You still cannot really fathom what is going on in your life.

So you sit there and wonder, is this really you?

This is why March is known for it's madness!

I wanted a breather from the 'hectic' life I have at home so I went back to my favourite hilly town again. I was expecting great weather, good food, a small number of people and a bookstore which I could spend hours at.

Either nothing was as I left it last time or my memory is hazier than the storylines of Lost.

The weather was like Drew Barrymore's career, good in some parts but really crappy overall.

The food was worse than Julia Robert's choice in men. The espresso bar I used to frequent earlier was dead and gone, replaced by a shop for some stupid clothing chain. God-damn capitalists with their need for maximum profit!

There were more people there than the number of Jennifer Aniston's ex-boyfriends. I went there because it was March and I thought people would be busy with their stupid children's stupid exams and that people would be busy in doing one of those job things which though sound really awful, seem to be the in thing these days. However, apparently, everyone had their stupid exams in February and those job things come with something called 'vacation time' now. Whatever happened to exploiting your workforce? Everyone seems to have turned into a god-damn socialist!

And don't even get me started on the bookstore. The probability of me going back to that bookstore is even smaller than the chance of J. Lo having a successful comeback. All the books were stacked together like common pieces of merchandise. How can anyone enjoy shopping for books when they are presented to you like they present a large number of probable child brides to rich, horny old men in small Indian villages? Where is the romance in that?

On top of that, the owner of the bookshop had the temerity to recommend to me a book whose exact tag line was "It's like the Da Vince Code . . . only better!!!" [sic]. He didn't notice, but I ended up putting a curse on him. Read all about it in the new thrilling future bestseller The dreaded curse of the combustible Homo, in a book store near you  early May 2035 - It's like the Da Vince Code and The Secret got together and had a baby!!!

Another thing which bothered me was that since it was the off-season for the hilly town, everyone was using this opportunity to get their shitty hell holes re-painted which made all my allergies act up.

To make it worse, the one route I loved to walk on, because of it's solitary nature, was now dotted with more hotels and those infernal tea-shops for the poors, who seem to find their way into every place. If they really have no money, what are they doing at a hilly town?

If I said anything to anyone, they would tell me that it's nice of me to get out of my 'comfort zone' and I should give it a couple of days. What does that even mean? Why would anyone like to get out of their 'comfort zone'? Don't people spend their whole life trying to find a freaking comfort zone? So why fix something which ain't broke? I think it's just one of those things that people say which they really do not mean. Like "Of course this plus-sized t-shirt doesn't make you look fat" or "Just because you slept with him on the first date doesn't mean he thinks you're a slut".

I felt the same mixture of anger and disappointment which people feel when they realize that they have a crush on John Mayer.

I wondered what happened to this hilly-town? It was supposed to be my happy place (before I discovered Ryan Carnes). Nothing felt right. It seemed to be a metaphor for my life, where nothing felt right too. Just like me, the hilly town seemed to have lost it's mojo! It was also probably spending it's time brooding in it's room, listening to Speechless while eating chicken from it's nearest KFC.

So I stood there one day, on the balcony of my room, high on benadryl and paint fumes, thinking of packing up and leaving the next day. Just then, a family friend who sort of lives nearby the hotel I was staying in, came knocking. He had heard about the terrible time I was having and he promised me that he would make it up to me. Since I was not in my senses (more than usual), I agreed to join him for a ride after lunch. Mostly because he did not use the words "comfort" and "zone". Smart man.

And it turned out to be one of my better decisions! Even better than the time when as a five year old, I kicked a stranger offering me ice cream right in the cajones. Yes, I am smart like that, sometimes. Very rare times, in fact.

So the family friend took to me to a part of the hilly town that I haven't ever seen, even though I had been visiting the place for almost two decades. And that place had the most amazing view ever! It was one of the best scenes I have ever laid my eyes on. I had begun to think that just like a straight Jonas brother, such a view would be impossible to find! But I was wrong! (Still right about the Jonas brothers though! They're probably gayer than a Saturday night at Elton John's house!)

Then we went to a bookshop where I found the book that I had been wanting to read since a long time. We ended our sojourn at a place which serves the most amazing waffles I've ever had, which were accompanied by a delectable cup of coffee.

I did everything I wanted to do in a span of two hours! And then, just like Chris Brown before the grammy's, it hit me. At about 8000 feet above the sea level I realized that life was trying to send me a message in it's own effed up way. That even if you get old & derelict like Madonna and end up losing your way every now and then, somehow, someway you will find something new and surprising inside of you. Even if it is a guy whose name is pronounced as Haysoos.

Maybe it was imaginary, like Sarah Palin's high school diploma, and maybe it's a little to self-helpy when I think about it, but at least I got out of my comfort zone!

Shouldn't that count for something?

Blog protocol requires that I put the word 'random' somewhere in the title . . .

. . . but fuck blog protocol (I really need to start using another profanity. I'm not Kathy Griffin at NYE, for crying out loud).

I finally sat through When Harry met Sally and saw it at one go. *Spoiler Alert* - They do end up together. Whoopti-fucking-do. Damn straight people. They have it so easy. All they need to is to start hating someone and voila!, they end up spending the rest of their life with that person. Why in the blue hell do gay people love this movie? I guess that's because all of us need some sort of myth to believe in. Like Brangelina. Or the secret of the universe hidden inside Lady Gaga's magic peen.

* * *

Speaking of stupid things people believe in, is it me or everyone is getting married this season? About four different sets people I went to school with choose to spend eternity with each other's cooties. Some were even younger than I am.

I usually try to avoid weddings like the plague that they are, but since a few of these people were my drinking buddies and a few of them might be useful for a few (future) cheap laughs, I sorta went along.

Everybody had an average of four large dinner parties. I can never understand why people have so many do's when they are getting married. It's like their telling the world, We're going to spend the rest of our forlorn miserable existence together. We would like you and everybody else we know to believe that we are good, monogamous people, even though one of us looks like a whore. So come celebrate with us and stuff yourself with so much food that you need to loosen your belt buckle. Also, we make so much money that we can afford to feed a thousand people some pseudo-exotic fruit which, let's pretend, came from some exotic country. Now shut your pie hole and eat something.

If I were straight, I would have actually run off and got married in Vegas or something. But hey, it's your money. If you want to spend it feeding more than a thousand ungrateful souls, half of whom are jealous and the other half just pretending to like you, then please go ahead. Who am I to judge?

Although, I did get to meet some people I went to school with and laugh at their sad little existence. One of them had a really nice and interesting wife. If I wasn't so gay, I would've hit that. Too bad she's married to that insufferable old coot. I'm pretty sure she's going to become a cougar in twenty years.

* * *

I think I might have a small crush on the Baskin Robbins delivery guy. Well, at least that explains the freezer full of uneaten tubs of ice-cream in this arctic winter we've been having. They really DO have 31 flavours, ya know? Pretty neat. Coming back to the guy, he's smart, educated and does not take any tips. It's against "company policy". Geez. What a dork! Just take the money and drop your pants, you fool.

Sigh. Porn movies make it look so easy. (Not that I would know. I heard it from one of my ..ummm.. friends.)

Why does the sort-of-romantic part of my life always involve food in one way or the other? I think I have issues. Freud would have a field day. Thankfully, that mofo is dead.

No, I don't know anything about psychology. I accidentally read up on him a few years ago on wikipedia while I was aimlessly surfing the interwebs.

I was at work at that time. What else was I supposed to do?

* * *

Not a Dangerous Thriller

When I was old enough to have my own room, I sort of inherited it from my elder siblings. They had a variety of posters in their room because I think that's what kids used to do back then. Now, I removed the Samantha Fox and Bruce Sprigsteen posters because staring at a chic in her drawers was never my thing. However, I let one poster stand. It looked exactly like the one pictured above.

Cause I knew who Michael Jackson was before I could even read or write.

There were many pop acts and artists who were the rage when I was growing up. However, no one was as big as Michael Jackson. Most of my good childhood memories have some kind of Jackson song playing in the background.

Whether it was being thrown out of class and being punished because I wrote the lyrics to Black or White instead of my cursive writing assignment . . .

. . . Or playing basketball with Jam blaring from the boombox.  (Oh, and the song was a pop culture phenomenon. It had the other MJ, Micheal Jordan and who could miss Kriss Kross!!)

I even remember watching him perform during the Grammy awards (back when they actually meant something) in 1988, on bootleg video of the DD broadcast!

 

My and my cousins were actually put his performance on repeat and were dancing along.

When I think about it, it seems so lame. At that time we thought were so cool and so funny! 

 

Hey, we didn't have cable TV or the internet. So how was a brother supposed to pass time?

 

Anyway, some of his songs told me stuff about me which even I didn't know was true!

Seems so ironic now.

Maybe these songs remind me of a time when I wasn't such a cynical, jaded, smartass gasbag. Maybe it's because these songs were our symbol of rebellion, PG-13 style.

Before yesterday, when someone thought of Michael Jackson, it was usually his Wacko Jacko persona.

However, he will be remembered by most people as someone who made great music.

I'd like to say that maybe we will learn from this. Maybe we won't make other children go through the life he went through. Maybe people will finally realize that that fame, celebrity and notoriety is not for everyone. I've read a lot of comments at various places which says that when people become famous, they sign up for the tsunami which is going to change their lives. That it's okay to dehumanise someone because they are rich and famous. Surely there is no schadenfreude behind such a train of thought?

Yes, the jokes and the sleazy tabloid stories will come tomorrow. People will huff and puff for a few minutes while pretend-serious media outlets will cover those stories while their anchors feign outrage all the way to the bank. Even in death, the Michael Jackson story is going to make a lot of people a lot of money.

But today, I'd just like to . . .

 

R.I.P.

Whoever said that happiness is a state of mind was an alcoholic

They can put a man on the moon, send a mission to mars, shoot a camel in the middle of the Kalahari desert from the sky, divide a fucking molecule into sub-particles, but they cannot come up with a cure for the common cold? Priorities, people. Where are our priorities?



****



You're bravely weathering the flu. You fell as irritated and helpless as the guy trying to teach John McCain about the internet. You decide to watch TV to distract yourself from everything. Then you switch it on, expecting to be entertained out of your miseries, when suddenly you see the following message on your tv:



"The STB cannot receive a signal".



You try to stay calm. You restart and try again. Maybe the bad message will go away. It does not. You then remember that it's satellite television. It does not work during rain, tornadoes, eclipses, sunshine, moonlight, boogie nights etc. Basically the equipment is a piece of crap. Then you get more cranky, call up the customer service and ask them to shove the stb up their useless asses. They pretty much don't have an answer to that, so you bang the phone down. Yes, you showed them.

Then you realize, that you still can't see the flippin TV. Aargh.



****



Thinking positively only works when you're high. Or when you're scaling Mount Everest.




****




I have more medicines flowing in my blood stream right now than Courtney Love has in her medicine cabinet. In fact, I think all the bacteria in my veins must be really, really high right now.



****



Does anybody else find it strange that even though I'm heavily drugged, I can still recall who Courtney love is?



****



This has been one boring, big-ass post. However, please do not blame me. Please blame western medicine. Thanks.

I can't think of a title for every post

So one of my neighbors is getting married. His funeral marriage procession is just passing by. The band is playing some irritating hindi song which I have drowned out with some hip-hop. I'm practical like that, sometimes.

I don't know why but this suddenly reminded me of the time when I wanted a traditional wedding. That was very long ago, much before I had discovered my inner Satan and dispensed with any and all traditional garbage.

I actually felt bad for my parents. Which in itself is new. They would never have this whole big-traditional-wedding with cute-invitations and multiple-cuisines as far as I'm concerned. Not that they would be surprised. I am anyways a big disappointment and have never made them happy, really. Except that February in 2002 when I suddenly got good grades for the first and last time. No, I hadn't studied, the person sitting next to me was really easy to bribe.

I wonder why suddenly I am concerned with other's happiness? It's quite a strange and unusual feeling. I think it was the vegetarian food I had for lunch. Vegetarian food makes you think. Note to self: Please stick to destroying the ecological balance. Nothing is more noble, really. Dumb green vegetables. Gimme a steak anyday.

When I was younger, I thought I'd have India's first traditional gay wedding. Be the first to send out those groom weds groom cards. But then some stupid lesbian couple beat me to it. Sheesh. Women. They just have to do everything first, init? I mean you got multiple orgasms, let us have something for crying out loud.

Anyways, realistically, if I actually have a wedding, (which I doubt because nobody really likes me), it'll probably be in some first world country which has gay rights and all, with three or four people as witnesses and some kooky old judge pronouncing us as "Partner & Partner". And then we'll head to a dinner for eight at some overpriced restaurant. I mean where's the romance in that? Stupid homophobic straight people.

A Funny Feeling

Ever since I got up today, it feels like a Saturday. Yes, i know it's a Friday, but somehow today, it just feels like a Saturday. Now some may ask what exactly a Saturday feels like, but then we really can't answer such philosophical questions. Specially on a Friday which feels like a Saturday. Now, usually people may consider this to be an upside, but we know better. If Friday feels like Saturday, then Saturday will feel like Sunday. And Sunday will feel like Monday. The whole process will be ruined. Although, a question arises if that hasn't the whole process already been fucked up beyond recognition and repair?

And the reason we find that feeling like it's Saturday on a Friday is strange because usually life is just a haze. Sunday to Saturday, all pass by in a flash. Each day is filled with the same, dreary feeling that nothing is ever going to change. No day is different. It's all the same. So why does it then, seem like a bloody Saturday, on a bright, shiny Friday?

Maybe there is a deeper, philosophical meaning to all this. Or maybe my mind has finally caved in and actually gone crazy? Who knows? Who cares? Who gives a fuck? Not us.

And then suddenly on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, we have an epiphany. Among other things, we realize that we find the world, so ....... so ........ so ...... funny.

Don't know why, but today everything just seems funny.

It's funny that people kill each other because they don't share the same religious beliefs. It's funny that we are fussy about olives in our martini while orphans in Africa die of hunger. It's funny that a 15 year old kid is killed by his friend because he dared to ask him out. It's funny that people make their own lives a living hell because they want to subscribe to some sort of moral standard. It's funny that people live their whole life trying to fit into the role that society has set for them. It's funny that the very same people who have children so that they aren't alone when they grow old, end up in an old people's home. It's funny that the world has just been deprived of a good writer/doctor/musician because a husband wants his wife to stay at home and attend to the kids. It's funny that someone right now in some part of the world is thinking of killing themself because they feel alone, neglected, and have lost all hope. It's funny how people take themselves so seriously that they forget how to laugh. It's funny how some people feel that it is okay to deny other people the same rights that they themself enjoy, because they fear that their own children might grow up to be like the others. It's funny how that even thought most laws say that all people are born equal we still honor kings and queens, crowned and uncrowned?

Yes, on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, I am highly amused. Or maybe it's just me.

Isn't it funny that if by accident you did something nice for someone, it might have restored their faith in humankind? Isn't it funny when you finally realize that the only acceptance you were looking for, was your own? Isn't it funny how we want to keep trying to define other people based on our own judgment and understanding? Isn't it funny that when something that turned out to be disastrous at one point of time, actually made everything fine in the end? Isn't it funny that if we don't lose hope and keep searching, one day we will find what we were looking for? And then look back and think that all the stress, all the mental turmoil, just seems a little bit ...... funny? Isn't it funny that your stubbornness is the only thing preventing you from picking up that phone and calling your loved one? Isn't it funny that the only thing preventing you from chasing your dream is you? Isn't it funny that when people you had pegged out in your mind, turn around and do something which catches you by surprise? Isn't it funny that people make life a game, which they try to play every waking moment? Isn't it funny when you realize that all the games were futile and all you need to do is to listen to your heart? Isn't it funny that someone, somewhere right now, just decided to give life another chance? Isn't it funny that a phone call can prevent a person from becoming a dead statistic? Isn't it funny that we spend all our lives chasing after money and fame and when we get it, it feels empty and hollow? Isn't it funny that sometimes happiness is just a good book, a warm cup of coffee and the pitter-patter of rain on your window?

Yes, on a Friday which feels like a Saturday, I am highly amused. Or maybe it's just me.

The audacity of 'Ope ......

"I'll feel proud of you if you complete that *** course you started to study for....."
"But that's not where my heart is .........."
"You should do it .......... I'll be proud"
"Sorry .... No Can do ....... "
"Well, I can hope, can't I?"
(In another room) "Meh ... "

When something like happens to one, one should feel bad. In fact one should feel horrible. But one doesn't. Maybe because one realizes that one is not here on this planet to live someone else's dream. Perhaps one realizes that they are here to live their own story, play out their own movie. One has decided to follow one's own bliss (whatever that means).

Or perhaps because one remembers the following story:

Mrs. Ginesberg, having arrived in heaven, addressed the recording angel bashfully. "Tell me," she said, "would it be possible to have an interview with someone in who is here in heaven?"
The recording angel said, "Certainly, assuming that the person is here in heaven."
"Oh, she is. I'm sure of that," said Mrs Ginsberg. "Actually, I want to see the virgin mary."
The recording angel cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. As it happens, she is in a different section, but if you insist I will forward the request. She is a gracious lady and may wish to visit the old neighborhood."
The request was duly forwarded, and the virgin was gracious indeed. It was not long at all before Mrs Ginsberg was favored with the virgin's presence. Mrs Ginsberg looked long at the radiant figure before her and finally said, "Please forgive my curiosity, but I always wanted to ask you. Tell me, how does it feel to have a son who is so wonderful that ever since his time hundreds of millions of people have worshiped him as God?"
The virgin replied, "Frankly, Mrs Ginsberg, we were hoping he would be a doctor."

(From The Book of Man by Osho)

** One is not affiliated to any religion or any religious group or organization.
** One is obviously not crazy ..... one is just a tiny bit retarded.

'Twas a crazy day

So when I got up in the morning today, I had this nagging feeling that I need to do something crazy. So I thought let me get my hair streaked. I know. So 1994. And before you start thinking that this is a what would Britney Spears do? kind off moment let me tell you that's not it.

So I made an appointment with my barber in the evening, and went back to sleep. I know what you're thinking. Does this guy ever do anything productive? By the time I woke up, the nagging feeling had decreased. My mind had taken over and in it's rational wisdom (which you doubt by now) decided to tone down the crazy. Anyway I was fashionably late by only 45 mins. So my barber mentioned that in passing which made me mentally cut his tip by 25%. So John Edwards. I know.

I asked for a new, crazy bold look, and he ended up giving me an emo look. And I thought to myself "AM I participating in American idol?" Surprisingly, the answer to that was no. So we changed the style again. I wanted the look to say "'MO" not emo. So the barber lost another 15% of his tip. So after a harrowing few hours, we finally achieved something that kinda suits me and also says "Well, You Know, I would like to kiss boys" in a subtle, serene way. After that the barber really praised my eclectic taste. Even though that was fake I actually enjoyed it. (My own personal Monica Geller moment)

I ended up giving him 74.8697% more than his usual tip. So Barack Obama. I know.

Now the purpose of this as-confusing-as-a-Fred-Thomson-speech monologue for an as-insignificant-as-Ralph-Nader-event is that after a long time, I am actually felling like myself again. My self-loathing, anti-social, cynical, skeptical, suffering from a superiority complex, bitchy, under the false impression that I am funny, self. Woo Hoo. Risen from the ashes like Hillary Phoenix Clinton. Thank you, medical marijuana. I hope it lasts more than a day at least.

So, my current state of mind is best described by the following quote from Jerry Seinfeld:

I learned something. Letting my emotions out was the best thing that's ever happened to me. Sure, I'm not funny anymore. There's more to life than making shallow, fairly obvious observations.

*************************************************************************************
Important Disclaimer:

The above blog entry is not approved by any presidential candidate. It is also not an endorsement of any. Except maybe the Democrats.

Any likeness in craziness to Mike Hukabee is merely coincidental in nature and not entirely intended.

Also, the suggestion that any medical substance was used during the writing of this entry is merely metaphorical.
*************************************************************************************