there she was...
her eyes glued on sweet memories...
the world around, seemed to be folding...
nothing was enough though to stir up deep reveries..

there he was...
drops of loneliness dripping off his cheek..
awaiting a response from his beloved...
through the tainted glass he saw, a future seemingly bleak...

there she said...
what am i? without the very you!
the only thing that keeps me alive now is..
a hope you radiate so new...

there he said...
look here girl, right into my eyes..
lets lose our minds, no hurry...
we're chasing blue, chasing blue skies...

blitzkrieg bop....

They're forming in straight line
They're going through a tight wind
The kids are losing their minds
The Blitzkrieg Bop
They're piling in the back seat
They're generating steam heat
Pulsating to the back beat
The Blitzkrieg Bop


Hey ho, let's go Hey ho, let's go
Hey ho, let's go Hey ho, let's go

Shoot'em in the back now
What they want, I don't know
They're all reved up and ready to go....

-The Ramones.

for those who really give a damn...



http://www.gabrielopenshaw.com/EthiopiaMursi.html

david lloyd..
main man...
http://sport.guardian.co.uk/smalltalk/story/0,,1851504,00.html
bumble at his best

lil' johhny did play....

he had just tried to sort out the code that was behaving wickedly with him.. both he and his boss tried to set it right.. however both knew that however hard they tried, it wasn't gonna happen that day.. it was just that sort of a day.. so a quick goodbye exchanged, he ambled down the stairs from the 8th to the ground.. and then out on to mg road to become a part of a flourishing culture.. a waitingatasignal cult.. he drove along mg road and on seeing the brigade road traffic signal tempting him with its green form, he clasped the accelerator and raised it outta anticipation.. he felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket... ignoring it he moved ahead like a man on a mission...as he was close to the line of control, the hideous chameleon of a signal changed color and became red even without its customary intermediate orange... hands on brakes.. all might all bite used.. the bike stopped like an insane horse tranquillized mercilessly.. 150 seconds the count read.. damn it he said.. another sick journey laced with a million stops.. involuntarily his hands went to his pocket and he verified whether it was a life threatening call or message... it was a message... 'Dont forget to recharge!' it read.. hmmm, yeah he thought.... moments later, the signal changed color and twas time to step on the gas.. in a jiffy it was cubbon road... and then came the minsk square signal.. the air temperature suddenly dropped and without even the slightest warning it started pouring!! he could see few two wheelers getting scattered under trees and few other brave equipped ones donning the monsoon wear set for the battle ahead.. he had a choice.. on one hand twas his mother holding a ruler in her hand asking him to evacuate the road and move under a shelter.. on the other hand, was the accelerator all charged up waiting to be pounded... the next thing he could remember was that he was at the high point signal at the end of raj bhavan road a sole two wheeler sorrounded by mighty four wheelers.. dripping wet, head to toe.. the uneasy water drops seeping through fabric and causing that eerie chill as it touched the skin.. he removed his wrist watch and shoved it into his pocket and checked whether the cellphone was cosy.. it would manage to find a dry spot he thought and pulled his visor down and sped across the golf course at 65 kmph.. the rain was relentless and had reached a peak.. a peak which only seemed to be rising he felt.. through the visor all he could see was spots of light looking beautiful as it dispersed throgh the raindrops hitting his visor...one spot appeared abnormally huge and before he could analyze its size, he grabbed hold of his brake and just about managed to survive.. just about... abuses exchanged, he kept moving.. the rain kept throwing its kitchen sink at him and he kept piercing through it.. along came guttahalli and vyalikaval... as he approached sampige road.. he was a wet guy.. he threw his bike into the parking lot.. disembarked and went straight to the store and asked for a recharge card.. he was panting... incoherent... uninterested in talking.. mohan uncle at the shop was stunned and asked.. 'why dya want a recharge that badly in the rain man? you couldve taken it tomorrow right..' he gave mohan uncle a dry smirk, and replied.. 'give it to me fast uncle, my granny is waiting at home with rava idlis!'.. and then he disappeared into the crowd like the river into the sea... nothing official about it.. nothing factual either

me: dude, we went to this tibetian restaurant yesterday da...
he: cool man.. wat food dya generally get there...
me: hmm.. not the conventional things da.. i mean.. was a bit weird.. but pretty nice..
he: oh okie.. but wat was the food like da?
me: it was all liquidy dude.. everything was a soup...
he: heh heh, the world itself is a soup da...
me: yeah.. and we all are in it..

there are somethings in life which cannot be bound by the walls of explanation or logic.. such things cannot be ascribed a measurable value of greatness, they simply have to be felt and preserved in the pure chambers of the soul, like delicate morning dew housed on a soft petal...

And some people are gifted with divine vocal cords they say, and few others the power to feel enchanted by the ethereal melodies arising out of them.. Case in point: Clio Karabelias, Harpist, singer.. Clio and Hamid khan, a sitar maestro himself, cast a spell on the listeners at the arena during a performance at the Fireflies festival of sacred music.. I had no clue what she was singing but my senses seemed to resonate and focus at a precise spot in a heavenly realm, a feeling which im sure is second to none.. unfathomable.. a goddess holding a magic wand and conjuring up ribbons of happiness effortlessly.. making the audience do things what they could never have imagined to do.. glide in the sea of pristine tranquility... words cannot do justice to the work of Clio Karabelias and Ustad Hameed Khan.. I'm blessed, to say the very least...

Amen

The moment they had been waiting for from so long had almost arrived... General Heinrich and his protege Jurgen of the Bundes-truppe 'sechzehn' looked at the grasslands around.. The sweet smell of victory was in the air and the dream of conquering kamerun had materialised.. Jurgen raised the bottle of whiskey expecting a loud victorious war cry from his general.. Heinrich however, was taking a look at the large expanses in front of him scattered with corpses and intermittently garnished with the mighty Savannah grasses holding the corpses secure like an anchor... Drops of water flowed down his cheeks and Jurgen after staying close to the general for as long as he could remember, could easily identify the droplets to be tears, not beads of sweat pounding down in the sweltering heat... The general dint move a whisker... He stood there motionless and said,
"For the last 5 years, my ruthless passion had overwritten all the compassion inside.. The struggle for this day had been my only motive, my only purpose of existence... And here I am on the threshold of glory, I see nothing but the empty me amidst these corpses begging for someone to lend some meaning to my cruel past hollow present and the ominous future.. The
whole world has ceased to exist in a split second... My little daughter who passed away last month is playing with these dead children and laughing at me and my petty ambitions.. She has never laughed like this before Jurgen, she's never seemed so happy... Aaaargh!! A huge void seems to be created inside me dear brother, which seems infinitely large and cancerous.. The void is eating away all those cells of mine which were thirsty to taste those drops of blood and fine whiskey which you hold aloft, oh Lucifer! ..."
He bent down, knelt on his feet, and buried his face in the dry sand looking for a quiet place to mute his daughter's scornful laughter and the kids' chattering and gleeful celebration..
Jurgen descended down the tank, hurled the bottle down and rushed to comfort his godfather.. The spilt whiskey lay still on the sand like an orphan with the even the all-benevolent earth refusing to grant it any refuge.. Heinrich screamed with all his might, grabbed Jurgen's magnum and shot himself right on his neck.. "This is where the cancer seems to be now, Jurgen", he exclaimed as he writhed in pain.. Within no time Heinrich rolled down the grassland to be a part of the carnival happening below..
Jurgen, looked up in a state of disbelief and saw his once-ruthless general playing with his daughter like a 3 year old free from any quantifiable glory.. The mighty savannah grasses danced along and so did the whole of the kamerun tribe...