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When I was younger, my parents conditioned into me, what was their idea of a sense of self. I think every one gets that. Don't get me wrong. My childhood was as happy/fucked up as yours. I was given everything that a child deserves.

I said, 'what a child deserves'. Not 'what a child understands'.

That manifested itself into something very obscure, unclear, and almost outworldly.

Even today, when it's dark, I am unable to close my eyes and picture what I look like.

Or when I'm standing in front of the mirror, and when I stare straight into his eyes, I'm looking at the unfamiliar. It is almost challenging.

It's like that man says, "I'm you. What are you going to do about it?"

PSG1

I haven't done this in a while. A 15 minute job on Mspaint. Ignore the pixels.

Tf

Most of us have always been fascinated about certain songs, and parts of songs. About how they're about you, or maybe explain parts of you. I am a huge fan of The Haunted. They have a song called The Flood, which is part of
The Dead eye. This is how the line goes:

"In the darkest corner of my mind I see a boy with a crooked smile.
With a crown made of tinsel and glassbeads on a wire, singing a song out of time.
Now if you believe I'll bleed for you.
And if I could bleed, then so could you.
Close your eyes and pretend it'll go away.
But you know that you've got nothing to lose."

Unnervingly Perverted At The Altar - March 24, 2011

I have a strong hatred for organized religion.

I always will.

 

I'm currently working on a concept album with a close friend.

This is the name of one of the songs.

I painted this as soon as I finished writing the lyrics this afternoon.

 

Shame, sandwiched between Love and Lust - March 24, 2011

Acrylic on Canvas

And... what do you feel like, most of the day?

 

+

Haiku


I am dead inside

Your letters - my epitaph

Ones you never sent.

What lies between us? March 23, 2011

Acrylic on Canvas.

Put a name to it.

Otherwise, I won't be able to see it.

 

Emerge, Hatred, Emerge - March 22, 2011

Acrylic on Canvas.

I can't hold my hatred back.

I've tried.

But it feels wrong.

 

{ }

Yeah. It's gone. I'm pretty sure.

You know that space between "I'm so fucking plastered." and "Fuck that, I hated her anyway. Give me another." ? That. There's no choice or reasoning there, yes? No 'sir. See what I did there? No you don't. YOU do.

And you never realize when or how you got there. Like a walk with a stranger from a crowded street to a dark alley.

Some things are still lurking around. But so does the stink of shit.

Fucked if it's gone.

And fuck you.

W2

What makes me happy.

That two second freeze before a smile
The first drag
White blankets
The first drag after
Cold velvet
Staccato goodbyes
Post-gig bodyache
Post-yeah bodyache
Torn shoes
Harmonies
Soup
That two-second silence after the song ends, and before the crowd erupts
Helvetica
Kohl
That space where the back ceases to be the back, and the waist is just a promise

Close your eyes - March 16, 2011

When was the last time you just allowed yourself to float away?

 

Just let go.

See, hear, smell, touch and feel everything.

Why fear the unknown?

You are already in it, aren't you?

You're Mine - March 15th, 2011

I absolutely love what I see in this image.

Found it on ffffound.com

 

A thought:

Whatever mask you wear,

I will always find you.

 

A Haiku:

I see you, always.

Even when behind the mask.

I know the real you.

For Sunneith, Niyati, Abhijit and Nivedita - March 15th, 2011

Thank you for writing to me.

You made me very very happy.

Haiku - 15th March 2011

So what will it take?

A single word might do it.

Don't die wondering.

I Feel Dead - March 10, 2011

You're looking for something dead.

You find it.

Now you feel it. Hold it with your hands.

Press it. Hard.

It's cold. That doesn't matter to you.

You're fingers are looking for goosebumps on the skin. 

Raised. Like tiny boils.

Waiting to be pinched.

Waiting to be stretched.

You rub it in a circular motion with your thumbs.

It's soft. And tough. At the same time.

You take a deep breath.

And think of how this would feel if it were alive.

You can't, can you?

 

 

For Sunneith - March 6, 2011

Sunneith and I shared a few thoughts on 'Happy' people yesterday.

I think he'll love this poem by Shel Silverstein:

 

THE LAND OF HAPPY

Have you been to The Land of Happy,

Where everyone's happy all day,

Where they joke and they sing

Of the happiest things,

And everyone's jolly and gay?

There's no one unhappy in Happy,

There's laughter and smiles galore.

I have been to The Land of Happy--

What a bore!

 

 

Haiku attempt

What if I tell you.

That I don't want to ruin us.

Would you stop me, or-

B

Band Update!
Things have been fairly dormant over the last few weeks. A lot of things going on for all of us, personally as well as professionally. Band rehearsals are on. We resume practice today after a week's gap.

Vinay and I have decided to rework the vocal patterns for half of the older songs, to make them more interesting. It's fun. It's like bringing in another woman into the equation. Only without the rejection, latex, and batteries.

Shit has been working out for Vinay and me otherwise as well. His secret side-project promises to be the most vile piece of sonic cadaver-flesh there is. As for me, Skyharbor is working on the debut album. We should be putting up something soon.

So, yeah. Hope you guys are happy and doing well. Talk to us.

Bluesday - March 1, 2011

I've been lost.

For about 2 weeks now.

I'm alone and uninspired.

 

It's words that inspire me.

I love to see them, beautifully positioned on paper, in a manner never seen before.

 

Words that create colours in my head are usually the ones that make me smile.

I hope I find some soon.

I don't like being so uncomfortable around myself.