The Silent Laugher Theory

So.. I had an insane day. I didn't go to college because I woke up not feeling myself. All I felt was pain. yes it was one of those days. The morning Sms to Shanthi- Reason for abscence : Acute pain in knees, shoulder, elbows and feet. Divya. And it was much more than that. I felt muscles that I didn't know off in places I didn't know off ache.
So I woke up barely able to lift the pressure cooker with one hand I cooked myself some rice for lunch. A Combiflam helped me go back to dreamland where I rested for the next five hours. Waking up with a throbbing head and some community celebration at my temples I decided I needed to get some stuff done like Lev does. Lev from Tales of mere existence? Nevermind. Prashanth and Dandee suggested a little herb would do the trick for the sacrifice rituals in my head to stop. Well, what happened after that is the story of my next book release. I've discovered it, unraveled it the story behind the silent laugher. You know people who crunch their faces into a shape that looks like a crushed packet of chips and vibrate when they are laughing, these people my friends are silent laughers (SL). They laugh in silence while they gently shake under the impact. The discovered and unraveled theory is that these people are crunching their stomachs while laughing. They are actually exercising when laughing. Their squeezed stomachs don't let them laugh which makes them SLs. Hari, on the other hand discovered that Hindustani singers when singing with phlegm in their throats can't control all notes in their singing and their singing gets a little less like their singing and a little different from their singing.

yours truly,
stoned like combiflam

Movies do something to me. Movies always do something to me.
I've just watched Constantine alone in my friend Hari's house while he is in Hyderabad attending a wedding. I spent the day alone, doing my laundry, trying to keep the cat happy and out of the house at the same time. I've told you guys that I have been listening to Clap your hands and say Yeah! one of their songs has the word Satan being chanted throughout. I thought it was all fun till I saw the movie I saw today. This song has been on my mind and playlist since Wednesday. Friday, I saw a movie that spoke about death on a holiday. I've finished drinking 2 litres of water in the past 2 hrs and my throat is still dry. Since the past 3 days I've been unable to receive any messages from anyone. At first I thought people just don't care, then I thought nobody loves me, but now it all seems to fit in some larger plan. My only contact with anyone I know and could trust is gtalk! So I'm typing here till someone comes online and talks to me and saves me from Mammon. I did some drawings while watching the film and I can't look at them. They aren't anything close to the images in the film but I know what they are and I'm really really scared.

But how fascinating is the concept of being submerged to be able to make a transition smoothly. I mean I'm not particularly impressed by the movie but that doesn't say anything about feeling. I'm feeling whether I like the film or not. Thank God for commercial breaks!

The only other reassuring thing is that all this might be true for Christians, and I'm not one. So I should just think myself to sleep, this is a film, you are feeling, you are the infinite, there is no God, only the everything and the nothing, only one indescribable complete.

People have strange issues and some of them include obsessive grammar correction. I'm pretty bad at grammar and spelling but I find these blogs very amusing. They are up at the Explore section. Please feel free to... well... explore them and while you are at it don't forget to laugh your heads off literally except for the suicide food site. Its not funny(the site claims)
However, I think an obsession with the lowercase L is a bit too much.

Please for God's sake do not kiss on someone else's kiss

Oh transparent plates,
Of silicates,
Heated to great temperature…
I love you so,
I can’t let go,
You do tricks with my,
Blood pressure!

XXX

says Canthz_B for glass kissers

After being a victim of Needus Tocollectus and Stationary Freakomania, I've recently been diagnosed as Quirkyalone. The quiz said
How quirkyalone are you?
Your score was 99. Very quirkyalone:
Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!

While I've been drawing and painting, in a city not so far away my father is very ill. I don't know if it is the distance or my complacency towards the situation or hope that makes me think he will be alright. I called him up and spoke to him, I'm worried yes but I can't deny that I feel he will be okay soon. I can't decide if I'm wrong or right in feeling what I do.

To my favourite boys Leo and Hari.

kiss the grass goodbye
because you are a bird
and birds are meant
for the sky.
leap
and think not why
the flutter of your
wing is a ripple in
the sea is the
setting sun and the
flower and the bee
is love is confetti.
leap.
because we are everything,
we can't say can't.

random burst of affection after watching Meet Joe Black.

Saturday November 24th 2007.

The tree outside my window is shivering in the cold
its leaves glistening in the sun like fish scales.
I've seen my classmates in my dream headless
and already been laughed at for the morning song request
A new winter day has begun
and we're listening to coming back to life.

but clap your hands and say yeah is so much better

Task of today:

Put on music you like. Just loud enough to be the background of things.
Now log on to flickr and see pictures of the non photographer types.
Its like being God. A little glimpse into peoples lives.

I wrote about the people I saw today. Their smiles, their friends, their eyes. Some really happy people, some really bored, others just figuring how to record their lives. Some projecting, some protecting, sharing.

This is what I really want to say

(taken from today's emails and chats)

Everyday a lot of post and emails go out from me into the world. Postcards, brown envelopes and wishes. Thoughts are not pushed out of my system to vent. They are shared, just as thoughts, as things that happen, things that are done. I don't posses them so they aren't personal.
Its a lovely day. Nights are getting cold but today is bright and sunny with cold breeze blowing.Bangalore is a lovely place sometimes where people come together over alcohol and weed. They don't know each other but they seem like they've known each other all along. They don't feel that silence is strange or expectant and gel so lazily with each other like bobbles in a lava lamp slowly gliding from conversation to conversation.When they leave they say goodbyes to everyone present. I've never seen so many people under one roof, happy and alive.

I'm listening to Clap your hands and say YEAH!

Man i was missing bombay so much when i woke up that i psyched myself out of bed. i had visions of the sea and feelings of the sea breeze blowing at haji ali. but i want to go to college with books for a day and I want to see Mahima and Pallavi there and I want to attend a class of Hermeneutics or Poetry with Canteenwala.I want to go to the coffee guy who sells coconut water.I want to go to Experimenta all alone with long walks around Oval Maidan. I want Juhu Beach and writing in the sand. I want to meet J in his room. Nowhere else is he J. I want to stand outside Ranjana Apartments and think of the many times I've walked into that place without knowing it. Of the times I've walked out unwillingly. And how far away I am from that place in Khar. I want to take an 83 bus home from Peddar Road. I want to go to Andoras misty moon day. I want to dance with my ghungroos in the corridors of St. Andrews college. I've stopped thinking about what people think when I flood them with mail. I've never been this alone. I'm happy.The weather of a city inspires so much life within it. I want to be in Bombay in February when it just begins to get hot again. I love that month. Butterflies seem to fill up the place like kids on summer holiday playing cricket in every empty spot in the city. I want to play Badminton with Jyoti, which ends when we can't stop laughing and rolling on the floor. I want to dance like I used to. Without people looking at me. Without a mirror reflecting. I want to go to a Bandra wedding in a black dress and heels with Nikhil. I'm not going to miss midnight mass this year. I want to eat Bombay south indian food. I want to take a 222 bus to Yari Road. I want to listen to the Bjork's album Medulla someday. I said I would hear it with my ex boyfriend. I want to meet Riddhi and Jacob like I met them. I want to buy cheap clothes from Hill Road and take more flute lessons from the Nepali watchman. I want to walk down 15th road and Zig Zag road. They are my favourite. I want to stand right under my Eucalyptus tree and soak in its fragrance. My Yew tree. I want to go to my Raddiwala. I want to run with the dogs at Carter Road. And Parry. I want to spend Sunday at home with my parents playing cards or carrom. I want to go to my yoga class. I want to hear the aazan with the church bells at 6. Room 14, National College fifth bench from the back. I want someone to ask me if they can sit next to me. What time is it? And I'll point my watch and say here, see for yourself. I want to be stupid like that. I want to make love wholly without following the step by step manual of base 1, base 2 and such crap. I want to give in without holding back. I want to take. I want to hold someone's hand without thinking about what it means. I want to be able to hug people again without awkwardly adjusting around their body. I want to be out in the night without worrying my parents about it. I want to live in a room with people, just listening to music. I want a vacation in Bombay. I want this trip to be about the city and not just my home. I want to visit my city. Hear the sound of visit. Its like a zip. Quick sounding. vi-sit. We sit. I want to run through the grass maze at Guru Nanak park and be lost while I know where I am. I want to take a class of poetry with Sister Ananda again. I want to walk through those pink corridors of my college a bit and have the feeling I had when I knew this place would change a lot of my life. Not because I was in awe of it, but because I knew he wouldn't be around. I want to live that moment I found out about him and her. Its not self pity. I want to live those moments again to see if I would learn something else now. I want to see all this again with someone, holding their hand, showing them my sight, seeing theirs. I want to see how I didn't see things. I want to be there that New year party, and see what really happened. Did you? Did I?
The smell of the wood at the Prithvi backstage, that last seat on the left top corner.That ugly red sofa.The stars. I'll die zones. The day we missed class and ran in the water at the beach. That faded poloroid instant picture with my shoes in my hand. My short hair. Your growing hair. Just things that happened. Just memoires, just like posters of plays, or advertisements for English Speaking Classes. Talks of your country and my country. Our bodies. Fish. The cats. I've let go of your life. I've let go of love lost, but not of these post its in my head. I like my life. I like the fact that its been a psychedelic elevator from a dream. Yellow and Orange.

unedited.

I must admit I got the oppurtunity to watch some television after ages. It makes me feel old or that I've been sending the wrong stuff. I want to know what these guys were tripping on. Why is a crocodile shedding tears for candy in some actors living room? What is funny or entertaining? Why is it on TV? Who lets these people get away with shit like this?

A bit of Bangalore sky in my journal.

They find me. People who want to talk, who want to share postcards, who want to show me their home, share their stories and those who want to listen. They email, write, call, text and I'm glad that they do. But sometimes I wish I would be equipped to deal with them all.The people I've been around recently, as friends, lovers, or just people have been performers of some sort or artists as we like to call ourselves. We are so fragile. Everyday, I share my life with 14 other fragile beings at class, constantly struggling to mould our bodies into shapes alien to us. Today was an exam of sorts. It went sort of okay as well.Everything is sort of okay. I miss Bombay and I'm just waiting to get home and sit in the sun. Its freezing in Bangalore. I heard the temperature dropped close to 9.
yours truly,
moody.