Back(B)log

November 15, 2010

An Ode to Joys

A palette of muted, pastel shades,
Framed by an endless blue sky,
Washed-out watercolour hues,
Awe-inspiring to the eye.

The eye of the beholder,
In which all beauty lies,
The flaming, fiery setting orb,
The careening sea-birds that fly.

The birds, they fly among the clouds,
Among cotton puffs, they vanish from sight,
Now a shadow; now none,
On the sand so fine and white.

The sand that numbers as the stars,
And forms castles upon the shore,
The tiny grains that defy the tide,
But fail with every roar.

The tempestuous tide moves forth and back,
Forever and a day,
Just like the Sun who gives up his ground,
So the Moon may have her say.

The Moon amidst the starry field,
A sight seen often, never enough,
Like a single white lotus in an emerald lake,
Like a diamond in the rough.

Such a joyous sight to see,
The cold stone and a maiden fair and cold,
But joyful still, is the stone on her finger,
Encircled by a ring of gold.

This then, is my ode to joy,
Of all we refuse to see,
But painful still, are unfulfilled dreams,
Of all we refuse to be.

November 05, 2010

How I Hate the Bugs

We're moving into a cool, new house - my roomie, Nosejob, & me. Well, its new. What's cool about it is the fact that Nosejob's dad will be buying it. That makes Nosejob an owner (and by default, me). Nosejob & me get along very well together. I share everything with him and I make him share everything with me. You see, Nosejob likes being dominated (that's fine by me). See, he's the laziest person I know. One of the reasons he's a footpad and a doormat rolled into one is the fact that he doesn't need to even make any decisions when I'm there (I plan everything more efficiently than a Personal Secretary). He's too lazy to even give his brains any exercise. Anyway, "unfiction" of the matter is we're the bosses and no one is going to question anything we do inside our domus (the owners at the place we stay in now are the most irritating buggers)! Speaking of bugs, Fuchsia recently told me of 11 innovative ways to kill cockroaches. She didn't elaborate on the methodology and I didn't ask. I'd rather read them on her blog once she gets round to putting them up. Killing isn't a nice thing to do, except when the victim is time (or except when it's being done in the name of God). Well, killing roaches, flies and mosquitoes are also fine by me. I wouldn't kill much else but I would, definitely, hurt a fly (dirty, disease-carrying, ugly little thing. Hmm, this describes Nosejob)! I, however, don't need 11 ways to be the ExTerminator (like Arnold, now that Sam's taken his place) - its much more satisfying stepping on them. The squishing sounds they make underfoot makes me want to sing a chorus of hallelujahs. Its not that I derive any pleasure by exhibiting my superiority over them. Its just that those three little insects account for a whole lot of lives everyday. The rats help too. But its much harder to catch one. Mostly, I hate roaches for the fact that they are most likely to survive and will rule the world if there's a WW III (most likely, there will be. Have you been reading the news? Here's what I think will happen: The Russian Prime Minister will proceed to build a summer Dacha on one of those little islands that Japan wants. In protest, the Japanese will begin hunting down whales in earnest. When their whaling ships reach off the coast of Indonesia, the US clothing industry will feel threatened and will pressurize their President to do something. Something, will eventually be done, by Osama who will have, by then, taken over Iran's stockpile of nukes). You have to admit, this is a very plausible scenario. Get ready for a Nuclear Winter (it will be heralded by an Indian Summer). THE WORLD IS ABOUT TO END! REPENT!