I’m going to tell you about the most painful dream I’ve ever had.  It started off in a weird way.  I was working with this one girl, a girl who I am attracted to, but have no real chance with. 

We’re good friends, both in life and in the dream.  In the dream we were talking and she leaned her head in front of me by chance and in that moment saw how much I really wanted to kiss her.  So she just leaned in and did it.  But it was an awful kiss, not sensual at all, she just kept ramming her tongue in without any thought about how it felt, as if she were going through the motions of being sexual without really knowing how or why.  I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if this were what sex with her was really like. 

At any rate, by the time this was over, she had morphed into my ex-girlfriend.  She had kissed me and professed that she wanted me again.  We were in my apartment of a few years ago and we went into a secret back room (one that didn’t really exist) to profess our love for each other. 

At this point the dream moved on to a party, where lots of totally out of control things were happening.  People breaking shit, wrecking the house, drinking WAY too much (as they tend to do) and generally making me feel like an outsider by virtue of my being a relatively normal, in control person. 

 My ex was, naturally, having a great time and couldn’t see why I was being such a spoil-sport.  It was a problem we had in our real relationship.  She had a great time at the type of out of control parties that made me feel like I had no soul whenever I was at them.  The people were just negative and destructive in their every act.  There was a room for hard drugs, heroin and the like.  She spent some time in there, got bent, and came out telling me she loved me, but not being able to stand or complete sentences. 

There was another room where people were mutilating each other by poking each other’s faces and cutting each other and stuff.  My ex had a trip with that, she used to cut herself from time to time.  I hated it, it made me feel like someone was tearing my heart out with full chest-crushing violence, every time I saw a scar on her immaculate flesh. In another room that was accessed by a closet door in the mutilation room, there was a new year’s party full of my family members. 

Though the rest of the house was a total flophouse, ghetto and scarily run down, embedded here was this nice room with Frank Sinatra on the stereo and gifts being unwrapped by children.  I wanted my friend to help me get my gf out of there, but when he went into the mutilation room, he joined in the fun, and began burning her cheek with a red hot poker. 

Everyone there was loving everything they were doing, except me.  And then, my friend said something that made my gf get up and leave.  She looked pissed off and hurt and I thought, now’s my chance.  He’s hurt her in some way, but whatever it was, it made her leave.  I spent hours frantically searching the streets for her and eventually find her, asleep.  I picked her up and carried her in my arms for miles to get to my place.  If a glorious angel spent a few years in a mental hospital, I imagine it would look a lot like the frail being I carried in my arms. 

 She was fast asleep, passed out on alcohol and pain.  I carried her for a long time, at no small cost to my own energy reserves and we eventually came to my place.  While we were still outside, she woke up in my arms.  I poured my love into her, telling her she was safe and we were going to sleep it off together, cuddled like spoons in my warm bed.  Unfortunately, from the moment she awoke in my arms it was obvious she didn’t love me anymore. 

Everything was empty. 

 She said she had fun the previous night and that she wanted to do it more often.  She said I should try to get into things.  I told her how I felt about all the insanity and asked why she couldn’t just come with me because everything about me was warm and safe and re-assuring and filled to overflowing with love.  But none of that sounded very good to her.  Being out of control sounded good to her.  Destruction sounded good to her.  And she couldn’t love me, even if she wanted to.

I think I saw everything that I didn’t like about her in that party.  Destructive abusive behavior excused by alcohol (not that she ever abused me or anything, but she had the power to think in destructive ways) and self-harming as a form of recreation.  It tore my soul apart to see this broken angel with the immaculate skin, mental patient shaved head and deep, pretty eyes doing all these awful things. 

It felt like someone was killing me.  And when I tried to bring her into the good, I could see this look that said “I don’t love you,” in her soft off-color eyes.  To me everything about her shined brightly, but she wanted to live in the mud.  It was like she wouldn’t allow me to elevate her to where she belonged.  Which I guess is the exact reason she couldn’t love me.  Because that was what I wanted to do.  And it was not my place to do anything of the sort. 

I guess I loved the idea of her, maybe not her.

I crashed into the female version of me. Talking to her is equivalent to standing in front of the mirror and talking to myself.

Lately the sound of bells ringing in my head have started making sense......... 

Have you ever held a loaded gun
And pressed it to your head
Did you think of all the ones you loved
And the life that you have left
Have you ever told your friends
That they mean everything to you
Did you tell then that you'd be there
And help their dreams come true
Yes I have
Should have done it long ago
Now I know
What I didn't long ago
And I know that life gets shorter
Every day we lose a day
So I want you all to know
That I love you
What do we wait for
When we keep our feelings
Locked up and to ourselves
We hesitate but soon we all regret
When we find the door has closed
And we're too late

 State of Insipidness

THE EYES ARE OPEN, THE MOUTH MOVES, BUT MR BRAIN HAS LONG SINCE DEPARTED...COULDNT COPE WITH THE NOISE!

I always believed that I was walking down a straight road. But I was so mistaken. We move in circles.It starts with a problem, we struggle to find the solution and the circle closes with the problem recurring.

"When people run in circles it's a very very mad world" ( In the words of Gary Jules)

As I sit today looking at the flackblock arena, I wonder as to what to do ?

Just at the same moment I realized that ""it was all blank"".

She was writing. Page after page, she kept filling. Thinking, not thinking she was just writing.

Her past, her present and future. She could write about it all here. She was half way through and nothing could stop her. Her hands seemed to feel no pain or stress.

Her joys and days of agony and also the days when she felt nothing. Yes, there were days she had felt absolutely nothing.

But how was it possible?

Yes, there were days in her past when no emotions entered her mind. She was only the onlooker to a moving world that never stopped for her. She was reaching an end. The end of her diary. It seemed like she wanted to fill it till the last page. And that she did.

Inquisitive, he was watching her and wanted to read some of her words, just a page perhaps. As she left her diary on the table, he picked it up to serve his avidity. But his eyes met with only blank pages. He turned to the middle, the end...blank.

It was all blank. 

This is the book that I am reading these days and I strongly recommend this one as it's an Apocalyptic Masterpiece.

There was a time when reading Joseph Heller's classic satire on the murderous insanity of war was nothing less than a rite of passage. But 40 years on, the novel's undiminished strength is its looking-glass logic. Again and again, Heller's characters demonstrate that what is commonly held to be good, is bad; what is sensible, is nonsense.

ciggrettes, bars and nightclubs...I will never go back to those places...ever

drunks, metal and violent people.  I do not think I am missing a thing .......haha

Well I am back in Delhi, 2 to 11 pm for 5 days..that's what is work for me which is sandwiched between my doses of music.

TC(Turquoise Cottage) is getting shittier with all the punk school freaks flooding in there these days.

Anyways I gotta move out, some friends are waiting,

Did you fall into that raven night
With sigh and woe and lonely path ?

This song is for the demons
That haunted you in those loveless lonely nights
And for the shadows that stained your soul

Did you wake with a sigh and not a smile, did you ?
Did you hear the ravens woe in this exaulted night ?
This very night

(Saturnus - For The Demons)