Altruistic pub journey

So, there I was having a smoke. Looking at an African guy trying to haul autos, I thought I should help the poor chap. Asked where he wanted to go, Pasha his friend said. I guided them to a nearer bar thats easy to get…

The dance

As soon as they drove away, I thought deeply. This could be my chance to hang out with a couple of Africans, and darn I missed it.

But, I made up my mind. Changed my shoes and went to the place – Big Bang Theory, spoke to the guy at the entrance to let me off this once to seem them Africans (as I led them here, and I was wearing shorts, dress code prfff).

I wound up meeting my actor friend Lachu with a girl. And, met them strangers from a foreign land trying to fit in. I learned one of them was curious to meet a girl, and took them soon after a drink to The Vault.

The vault was almost sealed

As it was late, after some ATM attempts, we creeped into the mild crowded Vault. They weren’t pretty happy with the light crowd, and I sensed they preferred the Bing Bang Theory more. But, I explained the timeliness and the tardiness with the Visa card.

A little bit of leather

As a last resort, I urged them to accompany me to The Park; the precursor was that we’d go in only if there was decent crowd. Enquiring, I figured out Sunday is low crowd even in Pasha. So, took them to The Leather Bar.

Have I never ever

There was a minimal crowd, and promise of a crowd after 2 am. We waited with the beers and a single gang of mostly girls and few boys playing ‘I have never ever’.

My guests were getting impatient, until one drunk girl approached one of my friend and started having a conversation. I thought, ufff finally. And, he carried it of from there splendidly. I was worried if he’d cause a scene, but it ended up pretty slick.

I met Sam & Daniel from London. Desmond or Dameon – Brandon…(his name is Brandon, I remembered after the first draft) from a start-up. As I was full on worried about the business, I tried using the opportunity to meet people and push them my Business card.

The Drunk Dame

Annie was with Sam from Bristol and Daniel who found a way to settle in London besides having a Thirunelveli background.

Dan was pretty pissed that one of my friends hitted on her, but we had a smoke and chilled a bit. Discussing my writing career, he suggested Canada is far more welcome to the likes of me than UK.

Hardly ever did Annie seems to be a person to have a go at. She was pretty & drunk, but she was already with two guys. I didn’t want to bother her, or get between my friend who’s trying to get lucky.

My concern was that I’m playing a host and I be better at it. Thus, I showed them around, moving from one pub to the other – as I was once guided.

All in all, it was a good choice to jump up and meet them in Big Bang Theory, instead of sleep-watching ‘Two and a half men’ as I ended up doing anyways.

Hopefully, I’d have more such encounters and have a spine to not miss them. And, I push you to do the same.

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The game of courting

She reeked of sexual energy. So the predator approached, aiming for the kill; subtly hiding.

She has to notice

But, couldn’t flee. She pretended to ignore. Tried to put the hunter off.

A distraction

Wandered to the loo. Maybe her special days. Easy prey, mustered the animal.

But why seek attention

To show, and yet pretend coy. If the attacker backs off, the eye of the prey lingers. The joy of being in the middle of the cross hairs…

The sideways

Hunter couldn’t stay on a single thing, for fear of failure. That moment a gizzle with silvery legs and impressive structure – quite danced to show off her prime.

I’m ready, she announces – to the world and its predators.

The pain of settling

Not for fear, not for lack of love. The ring on her toe – a mark of ownership, like branded cattle, pushed him afar; admiring, but hesitating to think of hitting.

So, the thoughtlessness

In all the drama, he reversed back to be audience to a story that revolves around his self. Physical more than mental, all the more reason to step back. Let things roll… But is this fear? Of doubt, on reality?

The parting

As he tries to walk away, she’s impressed. As the screens close, times nigh. She freezes him, roles reversed. Hunter’s hunted. Captured with lust, want and more.

Will it have happened if one moved another?

Would it be prettier if one of them dared to speak?

Could it make for a better tale?

A post? An encounter to brag?

It’s out there… Go get it…

Love vs attachment, wisdom from a Buddhist

Most of my adulthood is spent on quenching my ego and searching a partner.

I’m trying to fill a deep void, through stimulants and accolade. It never dawned on me, that I must better myself as a person before searching for someone.

Beyond gender and age, I was just searching for – a loving embrace.

But, since I’m denying myself that, I settle for the cravings.

Lonesome nights, where a sudden hiccup gives me a nightmare of dying alone. The neighbors finding my decaying corpse, that’s naturally decomposing in a steady and odourful manner.

I’m not being morbid, it’s a sad and lonely affair. To try and break the parts of me to give life to fiction. Trying to make a whole with just parts. Of me. That’s how it is.

I’ve got a lot to learn. A lot of behavioral changes yet to be implemented. My attachment to idiocy is lessening.

My cowardice is apparent, that I can’t shy away into denial.

Can’t find no paradise at the bottom of a bottle.

I’m growing a pair. To step out. Face failure on a regular basis.

I’m a writer aren’t I. I have a thick skin for rejection. My whole life revolves around the fact that people don’t get my ideas.

It’s pretty damn soon that I start speaking my heart out.

And,

For a change,

Live!!

In search of copy

So whatever happens to you is fuel for writing.

~ Dave Trott

I believe in this. Whatever life throws at you, whichever grit you be a part of, its going to help. As a tale in a pub perhaps, or a blog post like this one, or check my previous.

Dave + Dave = Dave

Predatory Thinking is still in my reading list, but his blog turned out to be a riveting collection of anectodes. He marrys the tales and news in a fine narrative and sends you off with wise and sage advice.

Boggled by Maria with brainpickings, Dave seems a lot easier to engulp the similar life learnings in a much easier manner.

Krishnamurti’s “observe without judging ” comes to mind. As the writers discussed above just does that. And, I’m trying to apply the same.

One must start to observe and reflect upon things. So that, momentary peace may be at your grasp.

What you observe – you can enhance.

Recently I’ve been doubting and hesitating to write. Often enough I’ve scrapped my words, scrutinising the tone and angles in which it twists and turns (probably randomly).

Dave’s blog changed all that, I muster yet again to wordsmithing. With courage and rekindled enthusiasm to tie words and stories together. In search of copy…

We live.

Even a tea master knows what he’s doing

Yeah, even a tea master, who makes 100s of teas and less coffees knows what he’s doing.

I’m more than a little intoxicated. There’s no editor or proof reader to suggest me otherwise.

I’ve wasted a good time on being someone who I’m not. Since childhood I’ve had my eyes on words. And, till now my fascination with them hasn’t dwindled.

I could be better or worse. But, I’m a writer. I obsess with words. And, fuck the grammar and language and all the BS in between. I’m known for getting my point across. Through these little words of text.

My love for life. Words. Poetry. And beauty hasn’t diminished The love of my life has admired it. More so in the following. That’s saying enough.

I might be sucky at it, depending on your ridiculous and misplaced standards. But I am a wordsmith, minus the editor and the consciousness you have the luxury of.

I’ve wasted time enough. To learn what I am not good at. Be it editing, the visuals. Or, the designs and artistry am obsessed with right now.

I’m a good observer. Teeny details don’t go unnoticed.

But, I remain a foolsy writer. With words that I can muster. Vocab that’s shrinkern towards a puddle.

These words remain a testament. For I’m true voyager. Sailing across the tides of life.

Expecting something more out of a fish. Who’s the fool now?

I do what I do. Because I’m what I am. Not a blogwalker. Not a ranter. But a fellow writer.

Maybe I’m alone. Maybe I’m foolish with my comings. But, I am in the midst of a cluster of things. Trying to fish out clarity.

A purpose.

A life.

That’s beneficial.

To You. Me. And beyond.

Sayononare mediocrity.

I’m known.

For words.

And.

I shall remain.

Beyond criticisms.

And.

Doubt.

A witer.

Waiting to be read.

The masks of an invisible meglomaniac

Crashing on the moon he cried ‘NO!!!!’

“I ain’t no play toy, launch me back!”

Removing the mask, he wasn’t an ape. A human after all. Tears didn’t roll. Rather a thick stench of rage. Poisoning the air surrounding.

“Can’t joy last a feeble more?”

He was marked unfit. Unearthed from the cusp of motley he play fought up on.

Adversity a commoner, a friend – a shadow.

Shouldn’t love be somewhere in the vicinity?

Clouds of hatred. Miscommunique and judgment blinded him.

The mighty warrior is a kid. Natures ploy was to test him.

Be a wrought iron, or wither like a dandelion. Breaking the fatey words and fighting mediocrity, he liked to destroy rules. All the clues left behind, were mere & mystic – hard to decode.

To dethrone his illusion, curs murred incessantly. Turning a blind eye or ear isn’t a tall. But, the call was on; “are you up” or “down like a cowardly lion?”

Where did the ego raise up?

With whom are the rage and fights to be resolved?

Abled zombies bent by desire?

Chilled hunters with pretty talks and slyed eyes and slight of hands!

The mystic robot hands wouldn’t batter. Falter in any manner to rest. Not a second of nonsensical thought could be taught to the infected inhumane & apey monstrous megalomaniac.

Losing the baggage, wearing opinions, cast away. An ostrich tale was the life of the tool. Buried with analogy, and not a thing original he was to be down in dumps. Maddening things wrangling in the corners of the mind. Horns glaring creature tapped on his shoulder, “be with me”.

Would he settle for the dark eyed bidder?

Or Fall all back?

Into oblivion?

Pride blinding!

“Chide away you damn Chester, picked the right moment to die you buster!”

Befriending a stranger

meet

Reading a couple of Dale Carnegie does you wonders. I tried implementing them, it has really opened up my doors to getting acquainted with people. Real conversations and meaningful adventures are just a whack away.

All you need is a push to greatness…

I like to meet people. From different walks of life. I want to know the backstory of every interesting person I know. Digging in with questions, a few feel uneasy. Mastering the art of conversing is a way deep conversation for this post. But, I muster on.

“That’s the ideal meeting…once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again.”
― Helen Oyeyemi

The digital and tech interfaces do more masking than revealing. Who really is the person that hides away inside the thousands of likes on Instagram?

I know a girl, who is quite famous in the online media. But, deep inside she is a wee kid seeking attention; broken, depressed and self-diagnosed bipolar patient. Poor gal, all I could was get her Vodka.

Meeting up a stranger with just a conversation about bikes (RE) we got acquainted. Smoked (up) and started to have a real, meaningful conversation. Talking about travel, movies and the books. It’s been ages since someone mentioned their discovery of Harry Potter. And, to trust someone. Riding out on a hinge. That needs true gut.

Roaming around the lonesome roads. Discussing a bit about the untapped history of Tamil. It was a peaceful and wonderful little adventure. I recommend one to you, meet new people. Expand your horizons and discover a beautiful you!

Like attracts like…

If you believe into that, it does you wonders. Shedding the little egos, trying to be a better person in theory is easy.  Once out of the shell, you learn to care a little less about your fragility. The mushy ‘id’ that you think matters fade away into nothing.

When after a fight, colleagues discuss inviting me to a coffee break. “He’ll probably tell no”. No, No is the least favorite word of mine. I want someone to ride with in the middle of the road. Out for coffee, fags or chips? I’m in let’s go!

Sometimes I wonder, how come this day is pure bliss?

Venting out and channeling at the right moments. I have stopped pissing off people for no reason. People have been kind to me, why shouldn’t I be?

In this sense, I have come to meet the new me. Thus, a stranger in me has awoken. This day could be marked as a real & eventful day. So, this post wouldn’t just be a slightly censored page from my diary.

It was really cool meeting you too!

I had a wonderful day, and if you are here – you must be a wonderful person to read thus far. And, the most interesting thing the stranger I acquainted today told – he reads a lot. When a writer and a reader meets, then the decisions and topics of conversations are endless.

Shout out if you want to meet, if not a quirk like me. Someone wittier could be standing right next to you 🙂

Hoarder’s can’t be leaders

If I’ve learnt anything, with lo many years in media, it’s this – those who hoard, can’t lead.

People grab their material belongings tight. Somehow their ego is fulfilled by the little toys and things. Which has more sentimental value than an intrinsic purpose for day to day life.

1. Hoarding is a mechanism for coping loneliness

If you hold a bunch of coins, it’s called a coin collection. But, if you hold onto your well to run bikes. When you can use only one, you’re a damn hoarder.

2. Fragile egos get hurt easily

While we tend to rely on these little things, we are conditioned to be happy in Thier presence alone.

If any mishap happens, a daily routine is spoiled; instead of adapting to the surprises we tend to turn buurish. Blaming external circumstances to mask our inability to tackle events spontaneously.

3. Materialistic attachment detaches oneself from people

If you’re so attached to your tape collections, or books, chances are the same bond can’t be attained with humans. It is easier to fall in love with books, movie and music. But also human beings, the physical and emotional connect can’t be replaced by thousands of AI.

4. It’s hard to move on

If you’re stuck in a place, tending to your huge collection of ‘things’, you won’t find the need to travel much. Getting in a rut with the same old routine has lots of dangers. From depression, social anxiety to the early onset of Alzheimers.

5. Trust is a big issue

We tend to judge people, if not deeply, superficially by their sense of fashion. We have our own damn standards so in order to keep our ego satisfied we tend to look up or down strangers.

Hoarding ideas also come in this scenario. In a fantasy land, all our ideas are gold. And, they better stay the same. If exposed to the public ear, they will be criticised. Or worse, original ideas are rare, people will steal away yours.

Don’t kid yourself, throw away any idea that hasn’t seen the light of day in 6 months. This is the only way to come up with new ideas.

Elon Musk’s crazy ideas like Hyperloop and Colonization of Mars are open to public viewing.

And, these hoarders are quick to judge. They are an insecure lot. As they treasure their material more, any potential stranger can take away their precious toys. And, the whole world might collapse. Forget all that’s said in Gita, materialistic things provide a comforting calm in the late superficial society.

If you find someone with these symptoms, please guide them right. I can identify these traits, as I once (denial!) was a hoarder of books, pens and everything nice. It is a hard thing to grow up from.

May you leave your hoarding days behind.

Riding onto somewhere, a dream journal

This time around the sleep had a dream. And, there was a strange yet wonderfully beautiful girl. Perhaps I met her before in real life. 

We were shy. And the dream has brought us together. 

While I wantonly pissed her off. Like every guy trying to impress a girl. She was quick to respond with anger. But, unlike women in real life. Cooled off fast. 

Want a coffe?

“No, you’re going to buy me pizza and Redbull!” (Weird combination? I agree.)

She demanded. 

Taking her up. In my bike. Her angel like presence wasn’t so  overwhelming. But, the road was ridiculously rural. Narrow. And dangerous to ride around. 

Yet. We moved fast. In the direction of the non-existant coffeeshop. 

And then…

“La la la, la la la la….anything that you want….”

The Beatles ringtone woke me up. 

Aren’t we all Chasing Amy?

I have a theory, if it were to be a high – the low follows.

A very few understand that pain and pleasure are intertwined.

Let me try not to beat around the bush. I had a late lunch, not heavy. But, late enough for me to skip dinner. So, me walking. Trying to control my urge to smoke. Found myself a juice joint. Which sounded like a better alternative to a heavy dinner.

Of all the juice joints in the city. I walked into this one.

There was this couple. She was wearing an orange sari. And, am swearing – I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything. But, she was almost cool to look at. And, the guy glaringly nervous. Tall and lean. His head was lingering in mid-air and she was straining her neck looking at his face.

As he confessed that he’s going to marry her. “I will talk to your mom. Don’t worry.” I could see there has been an issue. And, she was keeping him in her leash. Not tight. Yet on hold.

“Sathiyama idhu mathiri pesadha. En loosu mathiri pesitu irukka.”

“Stop blabbering like a fool. Don’t ever do this again. ” This was not a harsh command. Not a plea. She was devoid of emotion. Very cautious that I or some other was leaning in…

She could’ve clearly walked away. But, she liked something about him. And, he was clearly overwhelmed that he’s got a girl.

Most hopeless romantics are single. As they have a castle. Which is and isn’t like the cat. And, as the movie portrays. ‘Chasing Amy’ I though only guys do that. Chase after a girl. Who he could have had, and did have. But, couldn’t deal with his emotional BS.

Here, the girl is playing around. Whether to take him up seriously are not. Something in me told that he’s very new to the dating scene. And, dating a colleague has its pitfalls. Yet, she ventures. Boldly. Out in the open. And, the guy. Fragile. Bewildered. Will he ever get her? Was she seriously considering this guy?