Indian summer

sometimes i feel like i'm made entirely of sweat and grit.
weary from the overwhelming, exhausting heat of the afternoon. the breeze flickers and dies around me.

i carry the flustering heat of the dreary summer, carefully tucked into my hair, like a forbidden letter, an outrageously beautiful trinket.
Now i become the heat.
i can see you flinch as you come closer.
even as you touch me i can feel you recoil, subconciously.

i wait for it to rain. i can wait forever. there's a summer sun in my soul that devours the water before it reaches the ground.

for now, i want to wear a flower in my hair, every day for the rest of summer.

somewhere along the line of increasing whiny-ness, i realise that my blog has become a rant-blog.
of course I'm entitled to the occasional outburst, or a meltdown here and there, but I've been writing way too many rambling, pointless, sad-sigh posts.
which is why I've stayed away from my blog for a little while.

anyway, now that it's spring/summer, and everything's all tralala, I've decided to start posting again.
which is just another way of saying that i have very little to do, and am usually bored silly. so I'll brighten your days with my delightful banter. and i promise i won't rant...as much.

:)

*sigh*

films are always misleading.

the best films are really the ones that can lie to you most convincingly. and we totally buy everything they tell us. especially if they tell us good things.
if you are a human female, chances are, you delight in warmfuzzy, happy-ending type stories. if you are a human male above the age of 10, you probably also like romantic comedies, but are embarrassed to admit it. (issokay, it happens.)

but, the most annoying are the movies that lead you to believe that the most perfect men, all sense of humour, and intellect, and incredible handsomeness, are everywhere.

they're not! all the men you encounter on the Internet are likely to be people you already know or creeps and stalkers. there's no Tom Hanks or Rahul Bose just waiting to be befriended and/or drooled over.

my life's a lie!
*sadsigh*

search

there's just so much that i don't understand. people and places, stories and their stories, and music.
sometimes it all becomes a desperate search for meaning. a frustrated, sighing, lost sort of search.
because there isn't really anything i expect to find.

but then if everyone always found what they were looking for, wouldn't it all stop making sense?
everyone would just give up and go home, if they had nothing to search for, nothing to find.

phase

stage 1: posting madly:
this phase constitutes of a period during which the blogger checks his\her blog everyday, and posts almost every other day.

(stage 2 of the occasional posting, and stage 3 of the 'whereyouwent' or temporary disappearance, follow)

As of now, stage 1 has begun (unintentional rhyming...symptomatic of lameness of blogger, what is otherwise known as 'not having a life')

Goo goo g' joob

i was listening to 'I am the walrus' for the 786th (approx.) time today, when i realised that it was one of those songs which i had always just assumed to be deeply meaningful, you know,you ones you would speculate about, if you weren't conserving energy by not working your brain muscles.
imagine my disappointment when i finally got around to looking up the interpretation of the song, and was told by wise old Wikipedia that Lennon "wrote the most confusing lyric he could" because some kid from Quarry Bank Grammar School,wrote him a letter that said "the English master was making his class analyse Beatles lyrics".
so then Lennon went "Let the fuckers work that one out", and wrote a whole bunch of stuff,added some 'nonsense lyric' for effect, and made a song out of it.
in conclusion: 'I am the walrus' doesn't make any sense, because it's not supposed to.

that like totally made my day! NOT!

staged encounters

that sums up my week.

p.s.: the blog lives.