Sunday, December 25, 2005


Babylon Whores - Death Of The West
Part Goth, part garage rock and part doom metal, Death Of The West is a solid extreme metal album. Almost sounds like a dirtier Sentenced in parts and Taneli Jarva and Maniac join the band to handle backing vocal duties. The Whores rock.

Prong - Beg To Differ
Released a good 15 years ago, Beg To Differ still sounds pretty damn fresh. Prong was a band just way ahead of its time.

Nevermore - The Godless Endevour
This has been on repeat play for a while now. Politics ver. 2 ? Yes it is. Wit a little more melody this time around. Sell My Heart For Stones and Medicated Nation are just two of the great great songs on this disc.

Revolting Cocks - You Goddamn Son Of A Bitch (Live at the Metro)
Like a bastard child of Ministry and Front 242, this live album dances on the edge of chaos.

System Of A Down - Hypnotise
Finally SOAD release an album thats filled with kickass singalong tunes. The Faith No More touches are still there and I think Tankian prays every night at the altar of Patton but damn, they do this so well. Till there's a Faith No More re-union Hypnotise will do just fine.

In other news, my knees are killing me.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

I feel like its time to update with a bizzarre random entry that has a certain sense of WTF about it. I can't. The bizarre, the random and the frequent sense of WTF that this city conjures puts everything i can come up with to shame. I'm living the bizzarre and random. Be it the one legged man hopping along on the last train back home every saturday or the unexplained dissapearence and reappearence of my Tv remote. WTF!

This Godless Endeavor kicks so much ass. I'm totally happy with the new Nevermore. More on that at some point in the future.

I hope to go back to Bangalore in November for a few days. That should be good. Although going to Bangalore for a holiday feels just a little wierd.


I feel like its time to update with a bizzarre random entry that has a certain sense of WTF about it. I can't. The bizarre, the random and the frequent sense of WTF that this city conjures puts everything i can come up with to shame. I'm living the bizzarre and random. Be it the one legged man hopping along on the last train back home every saturday or the unexplained dissapearence and reappearence of my Tv remote. WTF!

This Godless Endeavor kicks so much ass. I'm totally happy with the new Nevermore. More on that at some point in the future.

I hope to go back to Bangalore in November for a few days. That should be good. Although going to Bangalore for a holiday feels just a little wierd.

Monday, August 15, 2005

jump for joy

The reason I moved to Bombay.

A few hugged me and said, "Go get her!" Some wished me luck. Some thought I was a fool and some others said nothing at all. One even predicted marriage.

Falling in love has to be the bes thing ever. A brother might beat me on the head for saying this but it's true. It's been fucking spectacular. Lunatic grin. Can't stop. Fucking Metronome. I love her and I can't stop smiling.

"Jump For Joy"


She held me. Face down. On the narrow bed. She ran her fingers over my naked back. She tried to relax me for what was coming. Too stiff. I could not unclench. She was going to cut me. I knew it. She knew i. I just seemed like he right thing to do. Didn't stop me from being afraid. Her fingers felt like blades of grass. A part of me wished she would never stop. A part of me wanted to scream at her to stop. She tried to massage my shoulders. I would not yield. I begged her to put it off. I don't want to do this, I said. She looked at me. She shamed me with a smile. I knew I wanted it. I knew I was just scared.

She cut me.

And all I did was scream.


kiss me. now. we will not talk of it. ever. jus kiss me. now !
i must feel you. inside me. i must.
know what you taste like. you cannot deprive me.
you cannot rob me of this. you cannot cheat me out of your sweet saliva
kiss me. now.

feed me. now. i will be your slave. just feed me.
now. you must. my stomach churns.
my heart. i cannot feel it beating. i must be alive. not for long now.
you cannot let me die. you cannot lay claim to apathy.
can't you see i'm starving ?
feed me. now.

kill me. now. i know you want to. just kill me. now.
you must. i do not want this. not anymore.
you mus not be scared. remember me for what i was.
fear is your enemy. i know you want to.
so, what do you have to be scared of ?
kill me. now.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005


Its been a month since I moved to Bombay, today. So far its been good. I survived the floods, changed jobs and am generally in a happy place.

The rains were unlike anything I've ever experienced before. I never thought I'd be scared of the rain but I am now. I actually had an easy time of it. It started raining at about 12 noon Tuesday and didn't stop. I spent the night at work, and left in the morning at about ten. It was only when I got home and turned on the news that I started seeing the horror stories. People walking home in chest deep water (some in neck deep water), people suffocating and drowning in their cars, people being washed away... the list of horrors is seemingly endless. They were still pulling out bodies from drains on Thursday morning and they're still doing that I guess.
The weather's clearing now and the city seems to be limping back to some level of normalcy.

I changed jobs. Yes Dear Diary, that was quick. I'm working for Barclays now in a proper banking process and I'm actually looking forward to going to work everyday. The money's pretty damn good too. Quite happy.

Current playlist:
Paradise Lost - Symbol Of Life
Skyclad - Irrational Anthems
Thin Lizzy - Bad Reputation
Scorn - Zander
Linda Perry - In Flight
Uriah Heep - Look At Yourself

Monday, July 11, 2005

the bombay groove

I landed in Bombay a week ago. Dear Diary, i would be lying if i said i did'nt miss Bangalore. Still, this was my decision and one i think i'll be quite happy with. Hell, I'm happier right now than i've been in a long long time so what the hell. This city has a groove to it. I feel incredibly lazy in the mornings when i'm at home but once i step out the momentum of the city carries me and then deposits me at my destination with no fuss at all.

What have I been upto lately ?

I went to see a bunch of Bombay bands. Helga's Fun Castle, Pin Drop Violence, Zero and Pentagram.

The Fun Castle was fucking awesome fun. rock n roll. Three songs stuck out from their set list. "SSG" (or "smoke some ganja") with its wonderfully catchy chorus, "The Marching Song" which live gets surprisingly heavy and the cheesy but very very catchy "Sometimes." Helga's Fun Castle also has an album out in a very nifty looking digipac. I totally enjoyed their set and and their CD. Fun rock n roll that sounds like a friendlier version of RATM mixed with the Offspring and maybe a little Men At Work too. Doesn't sound appealing but believe me, this band is a lot of fun.

Next up was PDV. First time i'm watching this band and they fucking destroyed. I was told later that this wasn't one of their best shows. PDV was like one big angry monster on stage. Awesome shit.

Next was Zero. I missed the beginning of their set, pre-occupied with watching hair being cut. It was a surreal experience and something I won't forget ever. Go to a rock show and watch hair being cut. Good fun. Zero, sadly were not. Zero without Warren is dull. Enough said.

Finally, it was time for Pentagram. A band i've come to loathe. Pretentious nonsense and they've been doing the same shit for so long its just not fun anymore. Blah. I think i left when the vocalist was singing "this is for my people..." Total blah.

The Fun Castle and PDV rocked. Zero was dull and Pentagram was a fucking pain. Still, Helga's Fun Castle and PDV made the evening and the show worth it.

Friday, June 17, 2005


So I take this knife. I cut you across your lower stomach. A long clean horizontal slash of the crimson kind. You look down to see the damage. One thin cut. Long but thin. The blood is only leaking. In tiny spurts. You look to counter. You look down. The trickle has become a flood. Your blood is running down your stomach. The thin cut is not so thin anymore. It has become a wide gaping cut. You can see your guts making their way out. This is when you’ll scream. When shock has finally worn off. And you screamed. Your guts were hanging now. Reaching the floor with a dull soft thud. Cut deeper than I thought. Still my orders are clear and this only makes it easier. I reach for your guts. Wrap your intestine round your throat. I strangle you. guts for stranglers. It holds well. It stretches. You’re eyes start to widen. You stop screaming. Too hard to breathe and scream. You try to breathe. Your eyes look like they’ll pop out any second now. There. Strangled with your own guts. How does it feel, friend ?

You’re awake again. Good. The rope must be tight. Don’t worry they’re for your own good. The chair’s hard too, I’ll bet. Well, it’s the only one I have. So then here’s the plan. I’m going to take this rod and beat you on the head with it. Two things have been asked of me. To give you a concussion or to make you bleed. Well. The thing is, how will I know if you have a concussion ? By the end of it, you’ll bleed and you’ll probably have a concussion. Useless to struggle. I wont kill you. I’m a professional. Maybe I can do it with just one blow. Yes, you can scream all you want.

Hello. How’re you today ? The wires ? That’s precisely why I’m here madam. To tell you…. no. To show you what the wires are for. You want to know right now ? Definitely. When I turn this little dial, the wires give you a little shock. A tiny little surge of electricity. I turn the dial a little more and I can give you an orgasm. Like that. Again ? careful madam. I’ve heard these things can be quite addictive. Very well. There. But then, as I push the dial further, pleasure turns to pain. Yes, like that. If I wanted, I could turn the dial all the way up and burn a black hole through your insides. Till your hair frizzled and your brain melted. To see smoke makes its way off your skin. To smell the rotting stench of your burnt body. I could burn you from the inside out. Yes. Like that.

Should have got my face mask. Place smells like a fucking slaughterhouse.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005


< style="font-family: arial;">Here’s an addendum to the Machine Head post I wrote a while back.

The album “ Through The Ashes Of Empires” is not old school in any way. Its modern metal. That’s the best description I can think of. Machine Head borrow a lot of ideas through this album but somehow also tap into the anger of Burn My Eyes. This album is getting better with every listen.

I saw this Japanese movie. Tokyo Decadence by Ryu Murakami. Not related to Haruki I guess but they could be brothers. Anyway, the movie. What’s it about? What are Japanese movies usually about? I have the no idea. The Japanese movies I watch have large amounts of gratuitous violence and perversities. I say this quite proudly. I scare me. Now if only I could stop smiling. Back to the movie though, its about loneliness. Its about Ai, A lonely little prostitute who specializes in S & M. Her meeting with a bunch of fucked up clients, existential angst and her lonely search for happiness. Its also about lots and lots of S & M and nudity. Like Arty Porn. The kind of porn you won’t have to whisper about at a wine tasting. “ Oh, I saw this lovely little Japanese movie. It was called Tokyo Decadence. It was stunning in its meaning and use of metaphors. Lots of nudity but almost Kafkaesque in its approach.”

"Really now ?”

This post brought to you by the good people at Winamp.

Quo Vadis – I Believe
Death metal from Canada. This is one pretty awesome band. Technical and melodic at the same time, I Believe is death fucking metal.

Extreme – Hole Hearted
I got hold of Pornograffiti again recently and now I’m listening to a bunch of old Extreme songs. Good fun.

Megadeth – I Thought I Knew It All/ Youthanasia
I love Youthanasia. I like everything Megadeth did including and upto Risk. These 2 songs make up the very strong middle portion of the album.

Oysterhead – Oysterhead

I thought this band would sound old in a bit. Not yet. Oysterhead rock.

Queensryche – Spreading The Disease / Promised Land
One heavy metal ball buster of a song and one moody dark epic. Lots of Queensryche happening and these two songs from Operation Mindcrime and Promised Land have been on Winamp for a while now.

Mother Love Bone – This Is Shangrilla
Rock n roll. Very cool band. Andrew Wood was a fucking rock star and he could sing.

Saigon Kick – Water
A sentimental favourite. Water as an album isn’t close to The Lizard but it has a few good songs. This one, I like.

Ulver – Lost In Moments
So what happened to Ulver then ? I read that they no longer played black metal and were now doing all sorts of electronic music and psychedelia and jazz and what not. None of this prepared me for the opening song on Perdition City. Its so trippy man. There’s this electronic trip hop thing happening and there’s this saxophone thing happening and damn its so trippy. The album holds up pretty well too. Lost In Moments is one really good song.

Acid Bath – Fingerpaintings Of The Insane
“The thoughts of dead babies Wiped away with my semen”

Acid Bath – Scream Of The Butterfly

"With sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care Her dreams of liquid blue I cut my self again and again to remind myself of you”

Acid Bath – Bones Of Baby Dolls
“Work for pay and pay for freedom Fuck 'em all, we don't need 'em We smoke the bones of baby dolls”

Acid Bath – Dead Girl
"Sister, burn the temple And stand beneath the moon The sound of the ocean is dead It's just the echo of the blood in your head.”

Acid Bath – Godmachine
“Be silent now and take your beating.”

Anathema – A Natural Disaster
Strangely enough this is the only Anathema album I like from beginning to end. The previous albums all got boring midway through the album. This is my favourite song on the album.

Gorefest – Walk My Way
Just a really awesome band. From the old school death metal of Mindloss to the pulverize your face intensity of Erase, Gorefest fucking own.

Vast – Here
I like this song sometimes and just hate it at others. Tonight I hated it. Seemed to go on forever.

The Gathering – These Good People
Album opener on Souvenirs, The Gathering in my book can do no wrong. Anneke is an angel sent down to sing for me. Just a great song.

Dark Tranquility – Indifferent Suns / The Wonders At Your Feet
Two songs from Dark Tranquility’s awesome Haven album. Melodic, heavy and just really catchy.

Frou Frou – Let Go
Like Dido mixed with Bjork. Nice little pop song and quite addictive.

Sanctuary – White Rabbit
Warrel Dane takes on Grace Slick, Dave Mustaine steps in as guest on the lead guitar and Sanctuary rape a rock classic. You’ll never want to listen to the original after you’re done with this cover. Fucking awesome.

Soilwork – Departure Plan
Like Europe playing death metal. Damn catchy and this song has a very cool lead guitar section in the middle.

Tori Amos – Love Song
Arre wah! Kyaa gaathi hein. Another angel.

Atheist – Earth
If this band had somehow patented their sound, then every second technical metal band would be paying them royalties. One awesome band and this song from Elements is my favourite Atheist song ever.

James Murphy – Touching The Earth
Murphy’s solo albums were both hit and miss affairs for me. Not a huge fan of guitar wankery solo albums. This song though has Chuck Billy singing on it. Chuck Billy is for me the best thrash vocalist ever. He can sing, scream, shout, growl, roar and fucking annihilate. Murphy is a death metal guitar legend. Touching The Earth is one awesome epic heavy metal song.

Death Angel – Ex-tc
Death Angel were never my favourite band but they had a bunch of good songs. A little like sitting in a coffee shop by yourself in the middle of the day when your only relief from boredom is the occasional cute girl you make eye contact with. Ex-tc is like one of those cute girls.

Diamond Head – Shoot Out The Lights
Fun for an occasional listen but mostly lifeless and boring. Diamond Head, apart from the truly kickass “Am I Evil” just sounded like a dull mix of Thin Lizzy and Blue Oyster Cult.

Metal Church – Badlands
Iced Earth sound so much like Metal Church on the album Blessing In Disguise. You can picture Schaffer writing a song like Badlands with Barlow (not ripper) singing it. Metal Church rock. Heavy fucking Metal.

Ulver – Utreise
Ulver was always one weird band. Nattens Madrigal was one raw, horrible produced piece of black metal while Kveldssanger was an all acoustic album sung in Norwegian. This song from Kveldssanger mostly settles into background music as does the whole album. Quite soothing which coming from Ulver just doesn’t seem right.

Orphaned Land – The Beloved’s Cry
Israeli doom metal band. Orphaned Land are fucking K V L T.

Opeth – Under The Weeping Moon
Musically Opeth have not changed much since their debut album Orchid. Under A Weeping Moon has all the Opeth trademarks. Long ass song too. Still, early Opeth had a huge Iron Maiden thing to them that made them a lot of fun and the vocals were more black metal. I’d rather listen to Orchid or Morningrise any day.

Yattering – Lost Within
Polish death metal band that reminds me a little of Suffocation. Short song, death metal, pretty damn intense. Its all good.

lack of comprehension

< style="font-family: arial;">A short time pass review of a bunch of books I read recently.

The End Of Alice – A M Holmes

This book scared me, it repulsed me and I couldn’t put it down. A pedophile in prison and his pen pal, a 19 year old girl on the outside. It freaked me out. This book. Scared me. Its not fun at all. But it should scare the shit out of you. So read it. If you want.

Filth – Irvine Welsh

Welsh is another author who can make me squirm. He did with Trainspotting and he does so here. Filth is the story of a corrupt cop. Sergeant Bruce Robertson is an utter shit anti-hero who through the course of the book goes slowly insane. It is also the story of the worm in his stomach. A parasite that is dependent on Bruce for its sustenance. The story is told by Bruce with asides from the tapeworm in his gut. An unpleasant hero, an unpleasant book but jolly good fun to read.

Inconceivable – Ben Elton

Ben Elton’s written a romantic comedy. Just like the protagonist in Inconceivable. A couple are trying to have a baby. The husband works at the BBC and is trying to write a film. The writing of the film and the producing of a baby are going nowhere. The couple after many ups and downs remain totally in love with each other. Elton later made the movie on the book filmed as “Maybe Baby.” Its funny but its not the Elton of High Society or This Other Eden. This is a tamer version of Elton. Like a forced attempt at being sensitive. A bit of a let down.

Book Of Illusions – Paul Auster

A thoroughly dull, depressing book that has the pace of a snail. I can imagine a hollywood movie with Richard Dreyfuss crawling along a three hour marathon. Sorry. I’m sure its an all right book. I loathed it.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

squeeze the trigger

Another day is over. You begin your long journey home. A few stops to fill your day. So you can tell yourself that work was not al that you did. Feel a little better. For a while. You meet your friends. The same six people you know. The six people you can stand to be with. Not with all of them at the same time though. You exchange pleasantries. You make conversation wondering all along if you can afford to get cable… afford to hire an air conditioner for the summer… the pretty little receptionist at work at her pert little behind… the idiot at work you feel like bludgeoning with a baseball bat… your friends talk at you and you pretend to listen and nod your head. You head on home after a couple of mugs of beer… you wanted whiskey but you settled for beer. You’ve forgotten to eat dinner but you can’t be bothered anymore. You head on home. You get into your 2 room apartment. The window was left open and the mosquitoes have taken over your living room. You curse and swat ineffectually. You open the refrigerator. Cold water goes down your throat and you feel better. You reach in your little haversack. You bought something today. The cold hard feel of steel is comfortable in your hand. Not too heavy but still a man’s gun the seller said and that is what this feels like. You heft it. You sit on the chair with the weak legs. You contemplate the gun. Your life has nothing left to contemplate over. You can hear a crow on your windowsill. Maybe you should try and listen to it. Maybe the crow will make sense. Nothing else seems to. You point the gun at your right ear. You change your mind. You stick it in your mouth instead. You remember what the seller said. Squeeze the trigger. Don’t press it. Squeeze the trigger. You remember how easy it was to get the gun. You spent everything you had on it, but it was easy in the end. You squeeze the trigger. Slowly. You know that you might change your mind any second. You even hope that you do. You debate the concept of free will in a brief moment in your head. You squeeze the trigger… the sweat from your forehead runs \down to your eyes. Maybe you should have a last cigarette. Maybe you should just end it here. Maybe you should wipe the sweat off your forehead. Maybe you should just pull the trigger. Maybe you don’t want to… the weak leg gives way… you stumble… you press the trigger. A single shot. A bullet in your head… you fall back on the floor and the chair hits the ground a split second later. A bullet in the head. Your brains on the wall.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

can i touch it too ?

There’s a man sitting on the floor. The skin on his face peeled off. Raw pink skin slowly replacing it. Across his left cheek, a raw pink combination of new skin and no skin. He fingers it slowly. Caressing it. It probably burns to touch. It probably hurts like crazy. He sits. Fingering what was once a whole cheek of skin. Everyone stares. The passersby are curious. One question in the collective mind.

"Can I touch it too?”

Left Unfinished

Machine Head - Through The Ashes Of Empires

In 1994 a thrash metal band from the San Francisco Bay Area released an album called Burn My Eyes. Machine Head, the band in question with their debut injected life into a genre that was starting to fade. Burn My Eyes is a seminal modern heavy metal album. Hugely influential, Burn my Eyes made Machine Head a name that was on every metal heads lips for a while. After their debut though, the band seemed to falter. Their sophomore effort “The More Things Change” wasn’t a bad album but was a let down in comparison. The Burning Red for me was a little better but the nu-metal riffing and the raps of Robb Flynn meant Machine Head just kind of got boring. I never bothered with Supercharger, their 4th album, and had pretty much given up on the band still occasionally spinning Burn My Eyes and wondering if they would ever release anything with that much power and aggression again.

That was till I saw the video for Imperium, the album opener on the latest Machine Head. This song just fucking destroys everything. Easily the best metal song I’ve heard in a while. It seemed like Machine Head might still have something to offer. On first listen Machine Head’s 5th album in 9 years “Through The Ashes Of Empires” is a pretty solid comeback. One point to note is the entry of Phil Demmel. Robb Flynn’s guitar partner from Vio-lence has joined Machine Head on lead guitars. The riffs are a mix of old school thrash, the NYHC sound and the modern nu-metal riffing. Flynn is shouting again with the same intensity he had on Burn My Eyes. Dave McClain on the drums is a fucking monster. Just an awesome performance from him while Adam Duce just quietly does his bit on the bass. Never in your face but providing some great backing.

So is “Through The Ashes Of Empires” a brilliant comeback that will have everyone shouting out Machine Head’s name again ? Will they become poster boys once more ? Doubtful. The album is good. With more listens it’ll become better. Still, the whole whiny nu-metal aspect of the last two albums have not disappeared. Robb Flynn has given up on the rapping but the emo side of him that came up on Burning Red is still not fully gone and influences from the first Korn album are still present. The riffs have by and large gone right back to the old school Bay Area sound and I’m repeating myself but Dave McClain is playing his heart out on this album and so Robb’s occasional whining can be ignored. Except on the song “Elegy” where a powerful start is ruined completely by Robb’s whining. Still, the rest of the album is pretty good. “Vim” is a scorching thrash metal song towards the end of the album while “All Falls Down” reminds me of “Sliver” from “The Burning Red” and while it is shamelessly modern and nu-metal in approach its still a pretty good song. It seems quite apparent that Machine Head have been listening to some European metal as well. The whole Swedish sound makes its presence felt on this album and the band has become a lot more interesting with this addition. The real surprise for me on this album is Adam Duce. His bass playing is just rock solid on this album and he seems to be getting better and better. With McClain, Duce forms one hell of a rhythm section.

Based on the evidence of “Through The Ashes Of Empires” Machine Head are from finished. This is no “Burn My Eyes” but it is way better than anything the band have done since. The real interest now will be in what they do to follow this album. With Demmel in the band and Dave McClain going from strength to strength the next Machine Head album might well be something truly special.

Friday, April 29, 2005


If you saw a thing of incomparable beauty,
would you admire it
look at it with wonder
defile it
make it ugly
make it normal
Make it normal
Make it yours
Simply because you can
It might even be fun

the moon bleeds love

The moon bleeds pink the farms lie on either side welcoming like a thick mattress enveloped in black. Lie down on me envelope you in my moist embrace. The ac makes me sick the driver irritates. The silence could be cut if someone wanted to. The moon hides between black trees. The radio screams the milestone reads 45 The moon bleeds yellow between clouds the highway lies empty the speedometer hits a hundred and twenty. The car reeks of love and comfort. The radio screams… the boil on my butt is fit to burst. The moon is full and white. The milestone reads 17 and I can’t wait to get back home.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005


I am the crowking
I am the crowking
lost my murder

I am the crowking
hands in my pockets
I am the crowking
kingdom empty

I am the crowking
a crown of pigeon bones and rat skin
I am the crowking

I am the crowking
nothing at all
I am the crowking

Pity me
Despise me
Hate me
Celebrate me

I am the crowking


If I was to spin you my tale, you would feel revulsion and hate. I will spare you of these troubled emotions and skip to me as I am now. The crowking. Once proud and mighty. Now alone, standing with my back to my kingdom. The murders have cast me out. A king with no subjects is no king at all. My kingdom once all the sky of the western hemisphere, now a grassy patch of land and a solitary black tree. If a genie could grant me a wish, I would make one. If I had the power to change how things turned out, I would. By snapping my fingers, by magic. Make everything all right again. I could still do it. I could still get off my wings and do it. I could re-unite the murders lost to me. It would even be worth it but for now, I will wallow in self pity and croak my misfortune to the black tree and the grey grass. The black tree is my new palace. A palace for one. The grey grass my new sky. My wings are on my back and yet they are not. The black tree and the grey grass are all I have left. My places of rest, my friends, my dominion. The black tree stands barren. I rest among the hard branches and nest in twigs. The grey grass threatens to swallow me. I speak to them. all the time. The black tree and the grey grass do not speak to me. They hold their silence. Maybe they don’t listen, and so I can hope that they may not judge.

I am the crowking. Hands in my pockets back to the world.


Headrush. And just like that, I’ve run out of words. Happy sad happy sad happy happy happy. Watch me dance. I entered the door and came out. A case of one forgotten ingredient. More important than any other. At a loss for words and feeling quite scared about it. Is this what its like to be ? Maybe. Moving on. I’m not, but life is.

The dogs on the street are restless. They haven’t howled in a few days. Or maybe I just didn’t listen hard enough. A productive night after a while. Not so guilty anymore. Tomorrow I might even play football.

Candlemass have re-united. The new self titled album has received uniformly excellent reviews. Seems kind of similar to the hype generated by Tempo Of The Damned or even Dance Of Death. Universally acclaimed in the first couple of months of release and then slowly people realised the songs weren’t all that good after all. Tempo has a few good songs while Dance got old very quickly. Still, it is Candlemass. It is the classic Ancient Dreams line up. I suppose we can hope.

If Napoleon was called Nappy, would diapers be called napoleons ? A friend threw this curve ball in my notebook. What do you think ?

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

the door

The door looks at me. Inviting me in. A dirty creamy colour with batman and the joker. With scotch tape stains and dust on the edges. The door looks at me and prays for me to enter. The handle is scuffed. Paint giving way to rusty hard iron. Offering myriad possibilities. I like that word. The cold hard feel of the floor inside. The tangy smell of life. Of sweat and soap and stale news. Green and white all bathed in neon. I sit, I stand I recline I dance. I see and I am blind. I laugh I cry I hurl abuse and immerse myself in mood. An attack of noises. Assailing each ear differently. Assailing each ear with sounds so intense as to drown you in them. The door looks at me. Pleading for me to come in. Please! It seems to be saying. Come in. Visiting the abyss on a dare, the walls a brighter shade of light. Traveling without moving ? Something like that. A ten ton hammer on my chest or the feel of blood on my lips. A delicate breeze on my face or a friendly hand on my back. The door opens into a new room every time. This music sucks but will sound so much better when I open the door and step inside. The door looks at me. The door welcomes me in.


Pin pricks on my skin
Wet sharp and pleasant
Death on the cards, Happy Ugadi
The devil and the goat
Biryani and blasphemy

The men are now a battered blue
The coffee is a muddy black
Crowley sits in front of us
Benevolent and willing

Red shoes riding evil breeze
Water warnings and coincidences
A buried chariot dust covered dying
Iced teas and drownings

Experiments in chaat
Recon missions in dark light
On the surface of the moon
In a canary yellow box

Whiskey weed and chains
Diving headfirst into the abyss
German steel welded industry
Insomnia and the will to kill

If the world had a vagina I would fuck it to death

Thursday, April 07, 2005

drugs are bad

I don’t remember the last time I went to sleep sober. I tried to remember but I just couldn’t. Memory goes for a toss when you smoke up every fucking day. Or so they say. The last four days I’ve been sober and I’ve never felt so fucking miserable. Escape. I love to escape and marijuana lets me escape. Its just marijuana. Its not cocaine. Its not heroin. I’m addicted to marijuana. I’m turking in my room for marijuana. I’ve made fun of people for this. “How can anybody turk for marijuana ?” I know now. I feel like a wuss. This is my cry for sympathy but I’d be lucky to get a slap on my face. I don’t remember the last time I slept sober. I don’t remember the last time I took a break that I was able to sustain. Yes I do. Just now. My memory isn’t all gone. November – December 2003. I’ve been smoking the weed pretty much non-stop since then. When I roll myself a cigarette and smoke it my brain stops screaming. I can fool myself. I’m not addicted I just like the high. I fool myself.

Now is the time to climb on my soapbox and warn the children of the world about the evils of marijuana. I will not. Just one good marijuana trip outweighs all the evils it might contain. So fuck it. If you've never smoked weed then you have no idea what i'm talking about and you can be ignorant and happy. If you have smoked it, then you know what I'm talking about. So then, back to being a weekend warrior dear diary. Lets see how this goes then.

Friday, April 01, 2005


Among The Wierdcong is such a kickass song. Fucking blistering album opener. M-16 makes Code Red look like pussy shit and Code Red wasn’t bad at all. Sodom are just fucking unstoppable.

Interesting Fact # 21642 : FreeRip MP3 jus brushes aside copy controlled OCDs.

People on the outside looking in. Not a cliché. Just a cold hard fact. What you gonna do ? Sister I been trippin’ in your sky.

A sense of apathy, tranquilized in a sea of daisies. Acid Bath mantras for everyone. Violence in my head now all the time. Oppressing the Masses ? My green shirt is not as comfy as it used to be. India lost in Bangalore. What a fun way to spend the weekend. The pretty girl is not here today. The cigarette smoke is.

The woman in the pink sari has a very pretty smile. Few women look good in pink. She looks light and airy, like she could fly away any minute. A gentle summer breeze ? She seems to be dreaming. Watching a spice girls video with a smile on her face. She is going to hate her Latte but smile through it anyway.

More hip hop videos. A techie talking wall street. The reggae man nodding his head. Waiting for the lawyer and eavesdropping.

Classic JC quote “ Doesn’t he feel like slapping himself when he hears his own singing ?” Wyrmboy on Richard Marx. I guess you had to be there. Phil Demell’s joined Machine Head as second guitarist. Violence ? Yes.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

wishing and hoping

I rub my hands over the rough surface of my chest.
I finger the scars on my thigh.
I cling to my imperfections in the hope of salvation.
I hope. I wish. I do nothing else.

Monday, March 28, 2005

little girls and burnt arms

At the traffic lights around MG Road, its quite common to see little girls from the northern parts of the country begging. A rather large party of north indians migrated to the city a while back and when they found nothing else to feed themselves they quickly turned to begging. They may have been farmers in their villages but not anymore. Some still try to get by on the government emplyment scheme selling face masks, newspapers and things like that. Most have taken to the streets and beg for a living. Its a common sight to see most of the men missing an arm or a leg. This happened over a period of time and considering that begging is controlled completely by local goons it seemed like a calculated pattern of dismemberment. Now though, its the little girls. Two of them at two different traffic lights have burns on their arms. Both of them on their forearms and both of them on the left arm. Maybe the men with missing arms or legs weren't bringing in enough dough. Maybe I'm just being morbid and paranoid. Or maybe someone's out there burning the arms of little girls in the hope of making more money.

A third little girl with a burn on her arm will establish a pattern. The girls run away when I ask them the hows of the burns or get a confused look on their little faces and say they fell down.

I don't know what the point to this is, but begging in this city is organised and run by a few people. Again and again, it is the children, the innocents, with no one to stand up for them who pay. Right now, these children are paying with blood. I don't know how anyone can end this or even if there is anything that can help, but ideas would be welcome.

Sunday, March 27, 2005


613 songs on the playlist and I got Mad Season, Acid Bath, Alice In Chains and Lux Occulta in that order. Very nice. I have a feeling i’ll see the sun rise. Nice day. I was too lazy to do anything. Did nothing. Drank too much Iced Tea smoked too many cigarettes and kept hearing pop rock right through the day. They were all there. White Lion to Saigon Kick. I enjoyed it. I was even coming to greet Michael Learns To Rock with a smile on my face. The night promises to be interesting. Or very irritating. Depends on a few things.

I burst the blister that was on the tip of my finger. I bit into it. A small almost perfect circle appeared. The white liquid ran down my finger. It’s quite tasteless. It’s browning over now. Too small.

The clock in my car used to be late by an hour and a half. Now, all on its own, its fast by an hour.

The conversations I seem to be a part of seem like they should be in a movie. I feel like I’m living a movie when I have these bizarre coffee sessions that seem to go on forever.

The night was long, bizarre and anything but beautiful. Thankfully, Saturday was a lot better.


I’m trying to read Trainspotting. When Ewan McGregor jumps into the pot to retrieve his suppositories, its amusing. When Rents is wiping away shit from the retrieved goods, its not funny. It made me want to puke.

Last night I was all set to watch Jennifer Garner in Electra. I don’t know why so many looser superhero films are being made. Where’s that Batman Begins ? Anyway back to Electra, it promised to be terrible and then I realized I didn’t like Jennifer Garner. I knew the movie was going to be bad. Why the fuck did I get it ? Like shit, man! The CD didn’t play in the end. The audio didn’t work. I felt quite disgruntled. I watched Pi instead. Another weird little movie about this stupid mathematician. Still, the movie was good. The hero was an idiot. The soundtrack by Clint Mansell was awesome.

I also finished watching Kairo. Social commentary masquerading as horror. It has its moments. Again, it’s the soon becoming standard theme of loneliness in an urban setting. The Japanese are a lonely people.

np: Mynd Snare – Conditioned Human
Like holy shit man. This song rocks.


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Blood On My Fingers

3 in the morning. Making buttermilk. That was when I first noticed it. The blood on my hands. On my fingers. Yes. On my fingers. I don’t want it to go away. I don’t know how it got on there. Is it mine ? I don’t know. It’s just there. My fingers hurt in a strange sort of way. Maybe its just because I’m keeping them separate as I don’t want a smudging of the blood.

Blood on my fingers. I’m not bleeding.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

yeno ondu

You know India Coffee House on MG Road ? There’s a crisis brewing there. A huge gap in the supply chain. The manager it seems doesn’t care. His exact words ? “I don’t give a fuck. Drink your cup of coffee, smoke your cigarette and go away. Fuck off now.” A sad state of affairs. Here’s the gap. The guy who pours the coffee in the kitchen goes off on a bathroom break. There’s nobody to pour the coffee into the empty waiting cups. The waiters aren’t qualified, the manager doesn’t care. What can you do but wait till the pourer of coffee comes back ? Now, I hate bringing up problems that I myself do not have a solution for. Yes. A rare moment of truth. I say empower the waiters. Let them pour the coffee into the cups. Pour it. Like nobody’s business. But only when the designated pourer is on his bathroom break. Empower the waiters. But who will ? The Manager still doesn’t give a fuck.

Tate’s changed the lyrics on the version of someone else with the full band.
The curd is far too cold and now my teeth are numb.
I could drive my fist through this computer screen but why would I ?
I could set my arm on fire. Well, why the fuck not ?
Why ? I don’t know man. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

My brain is slowly but surely shutting down. I should go and sleep now. I love Promised Land. I think its my favourite Queensryche. What blasphemy. Real World. One awesome song. Like Silent Lucidity with balls.

I saw half of audition. This movie’s going to fuck with my head big time. For sure. Its fucking horrible. Then I saw half of Kairo and its fucking scary. There are these fucking shadows that are just spooky. And this fucker who comes at you walking in shadow. Like fucking scary man. I should get some funny shit. Like a bunch of pink panther movies or something.

Heroin Chic, My Dying Bride’s moment in the sun
Or a disaster that should have been aborted at the start ?
Whore, a crimson angel on wings of desire
Or a killing of the pure ?
Do you care ?

I’m giggling far too much. At nothing. Scary shit. Damn these shadows. A cover should be an interpretation. I agree. Sound of silence like nevermore do it. An interpretation ? I think so. I just ran out of currency on my phone. This is so fucked. I need post paid. Wonderful. There’s a serial on Sony called Jassi Jaisi Koi Nahin. An odd looking young woman proving herself to the world. A constant underdog tag meant millions of women around the country identified with Jassi. So what if she looked like a reject from a Punjabi movie about retards. Anyone can win in India. Yes. I believe that. Say it enough times and you’ll believe anything. Drawing down the moon. The tea party is a fucking great band. Edges of Twilight I like a lot. And that acoustic thing with the Moroccan shit. Wyrmboy knows what I’m talking about. Heheh sorry. I’ll go look for something to eat then read for a bit. Enough of this for now. The time is 2:34am. Sleepy and hungry. Both of them. Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Eat ? Sleep. Fuck off now and read. Children are dying. That sums up everything wrong about this world. Deadhouse Gates. The Chain Of Dogs. Again. G’night.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Blind Girls, Chess and Cancer

The blind girl plays chess. Her friends look on. She’s the most attractive in that box of six. College romances abound. The potential for a cat fight is ruined by the advent of more friends. The tension dissipates. The girl with the straight brown hair is the cause for the tension. IBM looks like he needs sleep. Tattoo girl’s boy friend walks like Salman Khan. A gentle courting is in place. First time for both. The pieces on the chess board lie scattered on the table. The blind girl re-arranges it. The blonde American sits with the blond Indian. A confusion of identity. Everybody’s smoking. Everybody’s smoking. A man sits and reads the news by himself. Another Tuesday morning. The girl with the light brown eyes is lighting match sticks. She’d rather be in class. The call centre boys are here at the end of their shift. They should be home sleeping. Things don’t always work like that. There’s a boy in a dirty brown shirt. Sitting by himself. Smoking a cigarette. Cancer will the downfall of my generation. The music is strangely inoffensive. A pleasant enough day so far. More white skin. Where did all these foreigners come from ? Why are they here ? I notice the blind girl’s opponents. How come every girl today has great hair ? Not complaining, but how come ? I light another cigarette. Cancer will be our downfall. The chain smoking generation. My head hurts. I haven’t felt like this in a while. A lack of sleep. There’s a mad rush for the loo. A waiting line. The call centre boy is monopolizing the loo. The yellow girl is beginning to look frantic. The blind girl is still playing chess.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Project Bore

< style="font-family: arial;">Projector sounds like an uneasy mix of Moonspell on Irreligious and Children Of Bodom on Something Wild. Its all right but it has none of the intensity of their other albums. I may however grow to like it. That is the wonder of opinion. It can change. This is actually quite bad. Projector is Dark Tranquility’s One Second. Paradise Lost on One Second made a huge stylistic jump. I got one great song from that album and nothing else. Hopefully Projector will have one great song too. Nothing so far but hope remains. Projector’s kind of boring. Its half assed. Its as lame as the title of this little opinion.

Monday, February 28, 2005

Dance Dance Dance

Dance Dance Dance

Haruki Murakami

So what’s it about then ? I only have a vague idea. Is it any good ? Oh yes. Very good. I liked this book a lot. The story made me smile. It made me feel very sad but every now and then Murakami lets a ray of light pass through the story.

The book begins with the narrator dreaming of The Dolphin Hotel. A hotel he had visited four years previously. He dreams of the hotel and of some one there crying for him. He thinks of the woman he spent time with at the Dolphin Hotel. An enigma answering to the name Kiki. He decides that he must go back to the Dolphin Hotel. Find Kiki again. Dance Dance Dance is at its most basic level a search for friendship, companionship and love. The narrator moves from one setting to the next befriending people, connecting and all the while searching for Kiki. The one he lost, the one he let get away. Just one of the many that he has lost and just as always convinced himself that it wasn’t important. He comes into contact with a psychic 13 year old girl, an old class mate from school who is now doomed to play doctors and teachers in day time soaps, a one armed poet and the sheep man who tells him to dance. Keep on dancing. Something he tries to do to the best of his understanding and ability.

The book is also a strong statement on the capitalist leanings of modern society. Go ahead and put everything on that expense account. From high class call girls to dinners to fees for chaperoning your daughter. Everything can be put on your expense account and everything can be written off. Still, for the narrator it becomes more and more difficult to write off the expenses of his life.

Murakami writes with such a laid back sense of style that it becomes almost impossible to put this book down. Murakami excels in creating set pieces with two of his characters. The interactions, the oddities of every day life as portrayed through his characters have a strange sense of magnetism. The narrator’s relationship with the receptionist at the Dolphin Hotel is the lynchpin of the book. The slow setting of terms and the formal intimacy that develops between them is beautifully written.

In the end, Dance Dance Dance is a story of love, friendship, missed opportunities and a longing for something better out of life. All told in an unbelievably imaginative style. A great story told beautifully.

Sunday, February 27, 2005

The Crossing Guard

As a rule I give right of way to the pedestrian. This has made me see something. When it’s a couple about to cross the road. I stop. Let them cross even though the male has made no move to cross. The woman is happy, smiling, the man looks fucking pissed. I even get the occasional mouthed thank you from the woman. The man is surly, disgruntled. Every time. Every fucking time. Why ? Have I hurt his ego ? Like fuck man, I could be running over you.. Won’t hurt to show your gratitude fucking scum. Learn something from the women who walk by your side.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Junkyard Dog

The sun is bright today. The sky blue. A nice day you would think. It gets better. There’s a cool breeze blowing and the colour of the sky is not just blue. Its brilliant. The streets are less noisy, the smoke a little thinner. It doesn’t burn when you’re stuck in front of Symphony at 2pm. Its like people have noticed and every body is just a little more gentle. The coffee is less bitter, the cashier a bit more efficient, I should go to Kohinoor one of these days. Too long. I mosey along. Everything’s okay. For now at least. A brief respite from the junkyard dog that is life. Life doesn’t bite today. In my head I jump in the air and click the heels of my shoes against each other. Today I’m Gene Kelly and nothing can stop me.

Sunday, February 13, 2005


<>”This place, daddy, there’s something not right about this place.” You’ll get used to it child. It won’t matter after a while.” “Will we be here long daddy ?” “Yes.” “Will I be going to school ?” “No.” “I think I can get used to this place daddy.” A smile on her face. Her daddy looked down at her. A tall bespectacled man with what he hoped was a smile. “I hope so Nithya. I hope so.” Her daddy never called her by name and now, Nithya felt a special glow inside her. She loved her daddy. And so they walked. Side by side. They walked, a whisper of love in every step.

The landscape changed around them, the light gave way to a gloom. Nithya walked closer to her daddy now. Even reaching out for his hand. He held her hand and she felt a lot stronger but the gloom was thick. Nithya was scared but she couldn’t stop walking. Her daddy’s silence gave no room for her questions.

His pace picked up and she could feel her daddy leaving her behind. She quickened and half ran. She kept up with her daddy but only just. There were others there now. Not a lot of them but they were there. Sitting, standing, playing the accordion. Nithya looked and her four year old brain screamed at her, telling her this place was bad. Telling her to shout for her daddy to stop. Turn back, she’d go to school, she’d cook for him, anything for her daddy if they could just go back. She was scared. More scared than any child should ever have to be.

The father slowed his pace and came to a halt. Behind him, Nithya in her terror almost stumbled into him. There were people here too. Walking about, some looking at them with frank comprehension, some ignoring them and some looking at them like they were dinner. “Where are we daddy ?” “Home, child.” “ Daddy, I don’t like these people.” He looked down at his daughter. His eyes filled with the pain of an eternity of loss. His daughter. If there was one thing he could do, it would be to take her away from here. She did not deserve this. Yet, he was powerless. He spoke and his voice held steady, gentle. “They are just like us Nithya. You have nothing to worry about.” Nithya believed in her daddy more than anything else. She believed him now too and was satisfied. If her daddy thought it was all right then she was sure that it was so. Again, her curiosity took over her fear. She had to ask for the entire concept was still new to her. “Just like us ? Ghosts daddy ?” “Yes.”

The national anthem

The guitarist sits on his chair. Legs crossed. Plays the national anthem. Sounds very nice. I know I should stand. I can’t be bothered.


< style="font-family: arial;">Mother daughter sister wife.
Lover friend nun whore
All of them. Some of them. None of them.
Makes no difference.
Woman. You fascinate me.

Sunday, February 06, 2005

grit, fire and Kashmir

Like grit on the middle of my tongue
Like fire on my lips
Like Kashmiri marijuana rolled clean and thin.
I cannot decide if I love you or not.

the desiccated man

His hand cuffed to the wall. His bare torso shows the mark of inexperienced torture. Torn skin. Broken ribs. His head. Its like he’s looking at me. His legs have long since given up. Withered away below him. Starting to separate at the waist. And yet his chest moves. The wonder of breath. His chest still moves. Against all logic. He lives. Three months now. Three months they’ve kept him here. He refuses to talk. He refuses to die. The science of torture is not vast. There is only so much you can do before a person dies. Everything has been done to him already. A human oddity. He scares me. Looks like he could jump up any minute and strangle me. He does not speak. Just looks at me. Planning his revenge. Waiting for his time. I motion the constables to free him. Help him till the doctors get here. He doesn’t say a word. I can only pity the fools who tied him up here.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005


I walk. Its dull and cloudy and the sky threatens rain. I love this weather. I stop by my favourite book store, looking to buy a book. Any book. Have money, will spend. I do that quite often. A man stops me and asks for directions to the closest cinema hall. He’s from the north as he puts it. Here on work but work got over early. Now he has the rest of the day to kill and loneliness to combat. I tell him how to get to the multiplex which is an hour away. There are 3 theaters within 5 minutes of where we stand but what’s the fun in that ? A little girl passes by trying to sell roses to a foreigner. She should be in school but what you gonna do ? The lady buys a rose, the girl is ecstatic. I walk the pavement bumping into an occasional shoulder, exchanging glances with the occasional woman, slithering past humanity just as they slither past me. The homeless man is trying to light a discarded cigarette butt. I always think that I should give him a smoke but I never do.

I walk past Elvis offering up kati rolls and come across another old man. Lighting his beedi. Like the old man in Oliver Twist he has a brood of boys who run the parking lots. The BCC will scrap all paid parking in the city. What happens to these people then ? I rejoice at not having to pay money to park but what happens to these boys ? Mostly young men, boys who will now actually have to work for a living.

The sky opens and rain comes. A light gentle drizzle. Quickly turns into fat drops of water landing on my head. I feel like dancing. I jump into a puddle and splash water. The parking attendant looks at me. Impossible to read his expression. Probably thinks I’m high.

I reach my bike. Too soon. I washed my bike yesterday. It was gleaming. I love her. Quite completely. The rain has brought dirt on my bike. I should be angry at the wasted effort and I should rail at the Gods who would condone such an atrocity but it’s the rain and all I can do is smile. I will wash my bike again.

Thursday, January 27, 2005

the book burner

A man burns books on the footpath. We go up to him and ask what he’s burning. Hitler he says. Half a dozen copies of Mein Kampf are ablaze. “Are you a Jew ?” we ask him. He says Yes. We apologize and walk away not knowing what else to say.

Republic Day holiday. Nice peaceful lazy day. Spent it at home watching movies. Dark Waters came first. Creepy Japanese horror where atmosphere is queen and shadow king. I don’t get the Japanese obsession with apartments and little children but they make it work. Hell, water dripping from the ceiling becomes scary. I liked. Next was Romero’s Bruiser. This film had its moments but the slow pacing made it a chore to sit through. Still, not bad at all. Finally, Takashi Mike’s Visitor Q which you can be sure I’ll have more to say about sooner or later. Right now I don’t know what to make of this film. A work of art or garbage with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. You’ll know soon enough Dear Diary.

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Look World

<>I want to write but can’t
I want to watch a movie but won’t
So I do what I do best

I’m shitting on you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Monday, January 24, 2005

world shifter

I sit in fear. Fear, hope, loathing and expectation. All together. I look at the remains of last night. There’s a swig of Imperial Blue left over in the bottle. An oversight I correct. The morning sun streams in through the window. The curtains are drawn, windows shut but I cannot keep the sun out. Too much to ask for. Too lazy to board the windows. I take what I get. I light up and wait for the fear to go away. Maybe today I’ll go to Manali. I’m calm now. I take a drag, a few drags, the fear vanishes. Replaced by a feeling of inadequacy. Not enough, never enough. I stand and dare to look out the window. The world comes crashing in. The sounds of people, the blaring noise of civilization. I draw the curtains. Take another drag. Tonight I will board the windows. Not ready for this. Not yet. The sun continues to creep in.

The voices will soon be back. Any minute now. A man, a woman, sometimes many, sometimes just the woman. I hate them all. They scare me. The woman with her words of re-assurance. Again and again. Telling me things will be all right. They won’t be. Now or ever. I wish she would stop. I wish this would end.

I can feel the world moving beneath my feet. I have no place here. So scared. I light another. A crutch but it’s all I have. This crutch is my friend and it does not scare me. The world moves. I tremble. I fall. I cannot lift myself up. I see the smoke go up and disappear. I see the shards of glass from where the bottle fell. I crawl further in. I cannot. The world trembles, the world heaves the world rejects me.

Light. Slow but its creeping in. Light. The curtains do nothing. I should have boarded the fucking windows. Light. My world is becoming brighter by the second. The ground beneath me heaves and shudders. I scream. The light invades my world. I scream. The woman in my head is screaming too. An audio collage. A million different voices in my head. The woman. So loud. She shrieks. She moans. The ground beneath me is solid no longer. I slip and slide. My efforts to crawl back in are pathetic in the face of this world shifter. The woman screams again and again and again.

The world pukes me out. I scream.

to dust

She stands. Naked and fearless. Arms reaching out. A smile of such beauty on her face that I cannot help but stare in open mouthed wonder. Her long golden brown hair flows down her back. She stands resplendent. A thing of incomparable beauty. This is a dream. I go to her. She embraces me. I loose myself in the smell of her hair, in the touch of her skin, in the arch of her neck. Oh beautiful swan, this must be a dream. Every touch is a message of electricity. She burns me. I float on her eyebrows. I rest on her shoulder. I trace a line on her neck. She runs her fingers over my face. My knees give way and I crumble to dust.

Thursday, January 20, 2005


I wait for the black car. Another evening of snooker and coffee. The development of a pattern. I need some excitement in my life and not the “lets climb a mountain variety” but more of a “tie me up and ravish me you vicious angel” sort of excitement.

I met a girl who uses the word thingamajig in normal everyday conversations. First time I’ve heard someone actually say that. I like her.

A friend complained about the logic gaps in Kill Bill Vol.2. I wasn’t sure how to react to that. Uma Thurman was nominated for a Golden Globe. Now that was a bit much. She looked incredibly pretty through both movies but a Golden Globe for Kill Bill ? Bit much I think. She didn’t win so its all to the good I guess.

I saw Elaan. Mithun rocks. He has so much presence he just takes over the movie. I was actually waiting for him to pop up on screen. Awesome. Arjun Rampal’s another actor I like. I thought he was very good in Moksh and he’s always come across as being quite competent. No different here. Chunkey Pandey returns from Bangladesh’s film industry but he’s still as irritating as ever. Amisha Patel is very pretty but she’s also incredibly irritating. The rest of the movie is kind of crappy though. Still good time pass for 20 bucks.

Next up I want to see Anurag Kashyap’s Black Friday and Bhansali’s Black. No, dear diary the two movies have nothing to do with each other.

I also saw Ocean’s 12. Not as much fun as the first movie but pretty decent. Some completely bizarre WTF moments helped.

I meet Ms. Thingamajig again tomorrow. That should be interesting.


The word that comes to mind the most when describing Lycia is ethereal. If ethereal wasn’t so filled with pretension I’d use it too. A 2 member dark wave band, Lycia are mellow, melancholic and quite beautiful. They’re sort of like the gathering but not really. There is an aspect of film soundtrack to their music. Describing it is quite difficult.

<>Its like you’re riding a gentle wave and by the time Cold draws to end you’ve drowned in that gentle wave. Still pretentious but true.

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

I'm Alive

I have this sudden inexplicable urge to cut myself. I think I’m going insane. Not hurtling down but more like crawling inch by little inch into insanity. There’s nothing I can do to stop it. Nothing. I feel like a piece of driftwood except I know my destination. There’s nothing I can do to change direction. A feeling of complete helplessness.

The blood trickles down my stomach. A cut just below my left nipple. Cut myself and wonder if the rusty blade will infect me. I look down at the thin stream of blood in wonder and awe. I taste my blood. A little bitter a little woody. A little stale a little salty. Just like I thought it would be.

I lie stretched out on my bed. My wife sleeps unknowing. Dreams sweet dreams maybe. I haven’t felt this alive in years. I cut myself again. A tiny pansy little cut on my right shoulder. It bleeds. I bleed. I want to wake my wife up and shout at her, “Look. Look! I’m alive.” I put on some clothes and walk out the door.

Killing Joke

< style="font-family: arial;">I’ve been on a huge Killing Joke trip this week. Started with Nighttime, after which I went back to Democracy and then listened to Extremities, Dirt and Various Repressed Emotions and Pandemonium back to back. 4 albums into this band’s massive discography I am yet to hear two albums that sound similar. All four of these albums kick some serious ass in completely different ways. Pandemonium is my current favourite. It reminds me of a more melodic slightly laid back Ministry. There are another 4 albums to go with this band and then I have to hunt down the stuff I’m missing. Still can’t get a handle on this band. I should stop trying.

Kings And Queens

Would you like some turkey for dinner ? Roast or Cold ? You can pick.

Killing joke is one weird band. I cannot figure them out. Vocalist Jaz Coleman is reputedly a nutcase who only brings the band together when he’s pissed off enough at the world to record. I have eight of their albums now and the two that I’ve got down to hearing, Democracy and Night Time are nothing alike. It could be two different bands. Democracy is harsh rock n roll with Coleman sounding like a slightly melodic Lemmy and the band reminding me of Warrior Soul while Nighttime is so 80s disco played in a rock format. Both albums are great but both albums are nothing like each other. I cannot get a handle on this band. Considering the time between those two albums I guess the band just evolved. Also, they’re supposed to be a huge influence on Prong and a whole host of alternative rock bands who started in the 90s. I should get down to listening to the other albums one of these days. I like Nighttime way more than I like Democracy.

Monday, January 17, 2005


Yes – Relayer

About 5 minutes into this album it is apparent that Yes are to blame for every prog rock widdly widdly wank wank band there is today. That alone should be enough to never listen to this band again and pretend that it does not exist. When I want self indulgence I’ll listen to Sutcliffe Jugend. This is utter nonsense. The vocalist makes me feel like beating somebody up. The songs are so fucking long its not funny. This is only the second Yes album I’ve heard. The first was Tales From The Topographic Ocean. A sprawling 2 CD affair that went nowhere. Relayer has 3 songs at a playing time of 40 minutes. The first song is a little more than 20 minutes while the next two are a little less than 10 minutes each. I cannot imagine ever listening to the entire album in one sitting.

Yes ? NO.

Dawn Of The Dead

I saw the remake over the weekend. The original bored me a good deal except for two scenes. One when the cops find a whole bunch of zombies and then have to massacre them all and the second when the white cop is slowly changing. Both those scenes were quite powerful but the rest of the movie just bored me. The new movie has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Utter crap. I’d rather watch dough fall into biscuit trays.

Sunday, January 16, 2005


No one cares no one cares no one cares anymore
We’ve overslept another armageddon.

When I want to puke and nothing comes out, Two Fingers up the throat is the cure
When I want to write and nothing comes out, Lux Occulta is the cure

I love being me. I have a cure for everything.

Chronicles Of Riddick

I saw this over the weekend. I haven’t enjoyed a big Hollywood film in a while. Like Conan The Barbarian with spaceships, the movie is dumb, violent and a lot of fun. There’s some story about these Necromongers and the planet of Hellion Prime or maybe its Helliom but I don’t remember right now. Not important. The Necros evil as they are want to take over the planet Prime. Riddick is the one man who can defeat the Necros and so he does. There’s some side story of a boy from pitch black who turned out to be a girl and grew up wanting to be just like Riddick. Did you just say “WHAT THE FUCK!” dear diary ? Anyway she’s rotting in jail and Riddick finds time to rescue her in between kicking Necro ass. The fights are superbly done. What a trip. Vin Diesel has a lot of screen presence. He can’t act but he’s a believable tough guy and he uses it to his advantage. The only irritating part is Dame Judi Dench. She reminds me of Raakhi. Another woman who I cannot imagine ever being young and desirable. Anyway, the Dame is an elemental. She calculates events in the universe and gives you odds on what might happen. She can also disappear and reappear at will. She has the plastic grin on her face right through the movie. Riddick defeats the bad guys, kills the head of the Necros, The Lord Marshall and since the Necros keep what they kill, Riddick becomes ruler of the Necros as the film draws to a close and the camera moves to the same fucking plastic smile of Dame Judi Dench. They could have made the movie a little shorter but all in all the movie made little sense but kept me entertained almost all the time.

Bored. I cut myself again because I’m so fucking bored. Acid Bath is quite quickly replacing everything. What a band.

Midnight and the street is quiet for once. Any minute now I’ll hear it. A car. It blended well with Missa Solemnis. Quiet night. Sunday night. The city goes to sleep early Sunday night. Most of it maybe none of it.

This is the last hour of the carnival
I dance I dance though it hurts
Hangman’s rope suits well every gentleman
Madam you look charming that necklace of blood.

This is the last hour of the carnival
I dance I dance though it hurts
I dance I dance though it hurts

People say there’s a day after every night
People say there’s a sun behind these clouds
What a relief
What a relief

I drink to that
Pour me the glass of poisoned wine

What a relief
What a relief
This is the last hour of the carnival
I dance I dance
Though it hurts
This is the last hour of the carnival
I dance I dance
Though it hurts

People say there’s a day after every after every night
What a relief

I typed the words out as the song played and did a damn good job of it. Only three mistakes. I’m proud of myself. This is how jobless I am. I could read but no mood. I could watch a movie but no mood. Fucking jobless idiot.

Hollywood is making a movie of The Chronicles Of Narnia. I wonder if anyone will look at that title and go “Hey, let’s go watch Vin Diesel kick some alien ass.”

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

For A Taste Of Eternity

Far too much of my fun involves intoxication. So observed a friend. True. 11am and no pot. I’m bored beyond belief. If all goes as per plan, no pot for this entire week. If I can pull it off. I may need you to hold my hand dear diary.

I wish I knew a few jokes. Maybe I should buy a joke book. My granddad has a whole collection of those rugby jokes books. Maybe I should just borrow some of them from him.

I renewed contact with an old friend from a time I did well to expunge from my memory. That friend was the only positive thing to come out of those years and renewing that friendship feels pretty damn good.

I must get round to clearing my room. One of these days. I finally got my CD shelves in order so that’s to the good. I really have nothing to say and you must excuse me Dear Diary but if I’m not doing this then I will remember that I have no pot. Oops. Sad and pathetic. I lapse into self pity.

Insane session on Friday. I have no idea what happened for the most part but it was quite awesome. Thank you wyrmboy.

I shouted at the old man/ parking attendant outside Java City and scared the shit out of him. I felt guilty about it afterwards. Just an old man trying to live, I should have let the damn 5 bucks go.

There is no room for guilt when I’m stoned. Another good reason to light up. Sad shit.

Prong should be the poster boys for the whole mall-core scene. Maybe they are. Cleansing is an album that shows you exactly how good mall-core could have been. Cleansing and Scars by Overdose. These are two albums I want to play to every mall-core loving baggy pant wearing clown. Ah well, if wishes were horses I’d own a stud farm.

Friday I heard The Mother And The Enemy after what was a very long time. Inspired selection. That album just makes me very happy.

What do I follow Irreligious with ? Skeleton Skeletron. Go with the mood. This album was so badly ripped apart by the press when it came out. I like it. Sure, its not Wildhoney and its not even vaguely metal anymore but its still pretty damn good. Damn these kvlter than thou critics. A good song is a good song is a good song and this album has a few of those.

I was listening to We Kill Everything by GWAR in the afternoon and it suddenly hit me. A startling insight. This is probably the worst metal album in the world. Ever. But… because its GWAR, it’s still fun. Or maybe its cause I actually bought the damn thing and I’m never going to admit that it sucks ten ways to Sunday. You’ll never know Dear Diary.

Playing with myself in front of the mirror. Anything to keep my mind occupied till sleep comes. I kick the ball from one side of the bed to the other. I walk across to the other side and kick it right back in front of the mirror again. I’ve been asked why I have beach balls in my room. Now you know Dear Diary.

< style="font-style: italic;">No one here drinks water
No one here is safe
If you pretend you’re my daughter
We’ll do it again and again.

Good lord! I had no idea Tiamat was like this. WTF! Or maybe I just heard it wrong. Which is worse ?

What’s next on the menu ? Thin Lizzy, Jerry Cantrell, Yattering or Dim Mak ? No idea but I will be the first to know.

Tiamat on Skeleton Skeletron has a very strong Mission UK feel. Best Friend Money Can Buy reminds me so much of One Jesus To Another. Now there’s a band I need to get on CD.

I regret giving away my Pearl Jam - Ten CD.

<>Brinjal – I hate (The first option on MS Word auto correct for the word Brinjal is Urinal. I’ll be damned if I’m going to type Egg fucking Plant. Motte Gida in kannada).
Asphyxiation – I like

<>Coffee vending machines – I hate
Eating Ice – I like

<>Strawberry Ice Cream – I hate
Chocolate anything – I like

I saw Musafir a couple of days ago. Sunjay Dutt is the coolest actor in Hindi cinema. Ever. Nobody quite like him. Anil Kapoor is an actor I like. Shakti Kapoor is a child hood favourite and Aditya Pancholi after Saathi became another favourite. Mahesh Manjrekar is in it too and he rocks. Now, this should have been one kickass movie with these chaps in it. Unfortunately its crap. I can handle bakwaas storylines but Musafir takes bakwaas to a whole new level. Loosely based on U Turn with Anil Kapoor subbing for Sean Penn, Musafir is shot like one long music video. Sanjay Gupta should be making music videos. Not movies. That though is not the problem. The film has so many WTF moments that after a while your brain switches off and all you can do is stare numbly at the screen and hope that the movie gets over quickly. Sameera Reddy is so fucking irritating as the ill treated wife of Mahesh Manjrekar that I was hoping she would die. There is some story somewhere but fuck all that. Not really important. There are some snappy dialogues and what passes for witty repartee and some of it is good not because of the lines themselves but because of the panache with which Sanjay Dutt, Mahesh Manjrekar and Aditya Pancholi deliver them. Anil Kapoor goes through the whole damn movie trying desperately to be cool. Not happening. Gupta made me cry with Plan and while Musafir is a little better its still nowhere near as much fun as Kaante or Aatish. Hell, Hamesha was better than this pile of shit.

<>This was actually a movie I looked forward to watching. Now, my only hope is Elaan. Mithun finally comes back to mainstream Hindi movies. As a villain. Go ahead and laugh Dear Diary, but I can hope can’t I ? <>

What’s next on the menu ? Thin Lizzy, Jerry Cantrell, Yattering or Dim Mak ?
Black Sabbath – Vol. 4 actually.

Midnight Tides

Midnight Tides – Steven Erikson

A Tale Of The Malazan Book Of The Fallen

<>“Describe your contract offer,” Ormly demanded. “but be advised, we don’t do private functions.”
“What does that mean?”

“I won’t waste my breath on explaining… unless it turns out to be relevant. Is it?”
“I don’t know. How can I tell?”
“Well, that’s my point exactly. Now about the contract?”
“All right,” Tehol said, “but be warned, it’s complicated.”

The Malazan Book Of The Fallen owns every modern fantasy series. Every one of them. The story is long and complicated. Five books in, I have no idea how things will turn out. I’m not even sure if there will be a conclusion.

The fifth book in the planned ten part series, the timeline is around the same time of the events described in Memories Of Ice. In a distant continent far away from the Malazan Empire and its myriad manipulations, are the lands of the Tiste Edur and the kingdom of Lether. Tiste Edur, the children of Shadow and Lether the once legendary first empire, now poised at resurrection according to prophecy. It is also the story of two sets of brothers on either side. The Sengars, a powerful warrior family of the Tiste Edur. Fear, Trull, Binadas and Rhulad. In the kingdom of Lether, a trio of brothers, Beddicts Hull, Tehol and Brys.

A nervous peace is shattered and both empires move against each other. Pawns in a game of gods.

Erikson once again just blows me away with the scope of this story. A brand new continent, two new civilizations, a host of memorable characters and a kickass story. The seeds for this book were planted in Memories Of Ice, the third book of the series although I doubt if the writer will ever confirm that. The Tiste Edur body that was found in Memories Of Ice was our first look at the children of Shadow. The appearance of that body is explained here in book 5.

This book also has the most humour in the series so far. The interactions between Tehol Beddict and his servant Bugg make for some completely laugh out loud moments. The Letheri are by and large irreverent, decadent and live by their own set of casual rules. The Edur are fierce warriors who take themselves far too seriously.

The release of every new book in the cycle means that I have to go back to the beginning and read all the other books. I’m sure that when I get down to it quite a few little bits and pieces will fit in. They usually do with Erikson.

Midnight Tides is a great book but in the scheme of the Malazan Books Of The Fallen it seems more like a place holder. Much like Book 1, Gardens Of The Moon set the stage for the Malazan Empire, Midnight Tides sets the stage for the Tiste Edur. They are no longer the children of Shadow but now bow unknowingly to the Crippled God. There are a fresh bunch of threads that need to be resolved and if Erikson is going to stick to the planed 10 book cycle, there’s only 5 more books to finish this. I can’t wait.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

green plague

Meshuggah is my own personal soundtrack to nothing.

I have decided Dear Diary, I will start every entry with a line I like. I’m so intelligent it hurts.

People these days are giving far too much importance to the bizarre and the surreal. The bizarre and surreal shouldn’t even be a part of my existence. Unfortunately God is not all powerful and so I take what I am given. Full of complaints obviously. If I can do nothing to better my lot in life then please let me complain. I digress into rubbish.

Can I ever hope to feel a million light bulbs exploding in my head again ?

Can I escape through sheer apathy ?

Will I ever smoke in front of my parents ?

Can I listen to your heart beat ? Sit in your pocket, ride on your shoulder ?

Will I ever know, if you’re still reading, you’re in the middle of teen angst.

Will you hold my hand

Will you cut my face

Will you feel a million light bulbs exploding in your head ? With me.

Good God. You’re deep in it. Go away. Come back in a couple of years or decades or centuries. Take it from Dr. deathrider.

Last decade dead century. Namedropping has been a long well respected elder cousin of mine.

<>Just because something starts well does not mean that it will end well. Sometimes it is best to leave things halfway than stretch matters till the end. --- The Gyaan Guru speaks… Journal 10, 79.19.

<>Meshuggah on Nothing sound like a really heavy less noisy version of modern day Voivod.I do this sometimes.

I will watch the darkness now. Anna Paquin’s in it. She’s so hot. But it seems so wrong. Yes.