Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Honchos

1. It’s a nice weekend morning here. Yellow butterfly flyover flutterby bilateral relations between two people. Ants. Burroughs. Yellow flowers. Green leaves dancing. The ivies on the neem tree also dance. A 180 metre long boundry wall fell because of the lightening. I am not disgusted by the way people react in the face of chaos. It was clear right from the onset. The tea was pleasant. The day before yesterday the stall guy had pitch black eyes. Earlier it was red eyes now it’s bald head. Something or the other to pick on. My sibling once asked: why do you have so much hatred for some things? The reason he asked the question was because he wasn’t able to perceive it in himself. I saw people. Hungry people dying for negative attention. What would their leaders look like? And what would their master look like? Yes, extremely hungry. I should be grateful for the stick I have in my hand because I didn’t bring umbrella. The roads were wet and the birds are chirping sweetly. I refused to play ping pong balls with them and it made them furious. It’s always some king or the other. I admit that you are a sovereign because there’s only one ground where reality dances a unique dance. You are that reality like me: why then, do you need, a king in every street and house? Do names really have meaning? How big is your kingdom? Do you even own your mind? I understand that you don’t and it’s fine by me. You can’t control the flow of your thoughts, but if they’re your thoughts, you can control them and decide who they are shared with.

2. There are cows near the railway track. Two technicians start filling the silent air with some random talk. The act is not top notch. They don’t mind you overhearing their conversation because they are putting it as a hint for suggestions they want you to absorb. In fact, what they have been doing is suggesting they are from the company that is making the railway tracks, and they have a problem that they need your help in solving.

3. If it’s not your doing, but rather your nondoing, your presence as not opposed to their absence but your graceful dance, your melodious flute, which is the voice of their soul. Why does it hurt? It shouldn’t. The only thing that is wrong is your body, which is a pack of secrets

. 4. Yamashita tabanid nidit ditto toasting toadying yingyang anglers. Lurking king kong chronicle clerihew hewn stewn sewn on the other Theravada vadapaav paavbhaaji chutney. I go to japan on my way back to samoa I don’t think I’ll be coming back to samoa

. 5. I did following things: breathing, walking, sleeping, writing and minding my surroundings: and it created some kind of resistance periodically. I don’t know if it is in any way unlawful but it’s somehow generating immense resistance because there is a good dancer who dances an amazing dance since time immemorial. When I saw the dance I was surprised and I thought if I could go to learn the dance I would be able to go anywhere in the world, even to China

. 6. It has been three days in a row and as soon as I sit under the margosa tree: two people join me. They pretend to talk about this or that but mostly it’s unconvincing because they could’ve chosen to be on the tea stall nearby. Oh they can’t go anywhere else they have been given incentive to be here. If someone as good as three thousand rupees per month can be given this much attention: mostly negative: they must be doing something too positive. Law of opposites. When I was in the village: I used to be a great dancer but my family members are not pleased with my dancing

. 7. Now there were three of them: they took names out of the journal but their flawed programming was clearly understood. The man with the azure shirt was not a labourer and had big nails. The slaty shaded pant guy had been here before. And they thought that the intelligence was blind. That it only takes random names and numbers for execution, damage or exaltation. If it were really so: it wouldn’t have been called an “intelligence” now, would it? And actually it’s not an intelligence but ‘the’ intelligence. The alpha and the omega. They were not aware of the blind intelligence.

8. The fourth guy said: I have served in bigger company and I don’t care about the small company like this. It was slightly strange but the new guy was wearing a shirt which was also azure, like that of the previous guy. I was not a tradecraftsman nor a rat or snitch but they needed no convincing that I was one of them as there were many tapping onto my wires, only stealthily, not treacherously because I took it for granted that whatever I spoke about to my wards or neighbours was made public because it was spoken with all earnestness without any reservations or hiding. The agreement had been that if I became a witness or a snitch, I would never be allowed to become a tradecraftsman and would have to leave

. 9. Being misunderstood was not something I loved. The only thing was: your presence made them feel smothered : and there was no escaping it. It was the presence of a name or form, a perzona, a masquerade, an identity. I really appreciate it as a script but not as a livelong business because I have more than you can see. I am infinity. So are you. Are you not? Don’t you know it already? So be it. Well, then; you are myself; if you are

. 10. There is a fire in California, earlier it was Australia. I remember about Amazon rainforest. I thought the twenty first century was the golden age with technology amply developed to create a safety mechanism against such fires. Resplendent dentists fragrant ranting chores galore. I found out that the greatest danger for the future is the unfathomable.

11. Cleanliness survey? I have lived in Chennai. How come Tamil people who took pride in their education are not caring well for cleanliness? I have seen a picture of monkey and a rat together.

12. I thought they were joking about gutka spitters. Now I don’t understand. There were monkeys on the field yesterday. I took a picture. I saw monkeys in a dream. You were wearing a white shirt. I saw a boy who had stone for chocolate. And he considered it dharma to chew on it, like dogs chew on the bones. They were violating all laws. Including the freedom of expression. What happened to the constitution? If we don’t have one, the monkeys can’t remain here.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Musical calculus

My class teacher used to plan our rendezvous or something similar when we were in the middle school and he was only a passionate passport from the science department.

Once we had a class on Friday. I had to sing a song. I chose a Muhammad Rafi Asha Mangeshkar duet ( O Haseena…) over the Kishore Kumar melody: ye Dil Na hota bechara… I understand why I did that. They both had more profundity and variety than Kishore Kumar. He was all energy. Bubblegum Mugwumps handpumps madly deeply uncalibrated. My teacher didn’t like that. The students sitting next to me sang the one by Kumar and won the Claps. I regretfully left the class. I greatly appreciate my choice now: the lyrics were beautiful. The Antara after Antara with magic. And the depth. I listen to both of them and judge in my favor. I feel ” uski dhun me padega dukh jhelna…haha… seekha hamne bhi…” was highlight of the song.

It loses its grip after that point. I had a serendipity. I looked up the lyrics online and it has turned out that both of them were written by Sultan Puri

Why did they choose to sing songs by Sultan Puri remains a mystery. The one I prefer was composed by the son. The father Burman did the one sung by Kishore. It might be that the teacher had the same name as the singer. Maybe not. I find out: my musical sense and penchant hasn’t changed much all these years.

Posted on by dancinglightofgrace

Words of a blather lock down with a Kite in Sky!

Chanson on vacation On Sundays, when she is supposed to be at church, she still meets the villagers in the park and talks to them. There were three venipuncture venomous scorpions. They resided in a small tree on the lawn of the beautiful blonde. If I had learnt to differentiate between the fictional and non fictional: the writing would have been easier. A little bit less entertainment: yet I would have thrived. I thought it was not necessarily required to be grateful at this point: they all knew how he felt about them. If they had taught him a thing: it was to see the naked fiction. If only he could have found a way to read fiction in the real world: he would have been cured of his disease.

Hi Hannah thanks for the mannah! He said as usual. It was beyond his wildest fantasies: the way they had woven their persona : the masquerade around the craft. It was not a question about being ethical or unethical: it was being charged with a red zone: having a great appearance of malady. The way the mighty were infected with the red zone: that is what bothered her. Piano music was soothing to him. He was visiting the area of deaths. There were many of them. He was relieved to be free from all dehiscence Matrices now. There were many people who worked together and development of new feelings was obviously noticeable when someone was as mature amateur as he was. He was learning to be more mature: all the times. Work needs energy and enthusiasm: workplace romance is a joke. I have been a single story all my life. I have had no romance at all. But being a dumb dunce I entertained many and unless a specific individual was actually involved: the artist would not have been able to get a chance to draw a vivid colours dream. It is all the worst thing that could happen to a man of the artistic temperament. You can not understand why: unless you have been thru the exit door. One of the most important things to remember is that: just because your roommate is mature does not mean that he is interested in you as a person.

You can’t understand why…

No matter how high,

You try,

To fly,

You can’t escape,

Something’s gotta pukka chukka boots,

Good up now comedown,

Comedo comedy show,

Komosu moshi moshi,

Komodo dragon gonfalon falchion falcon conical flask new story,

Was it unethical to tell lies as an author? He seemed confused about it. He embraced the first idea: since you declared that you were talking to the reader of fiction verse in a symbolical tongue: you have received a licence. They called it a poetic licence. Poetic justice department didn’t have any exemption for your highness. He Rummaged mensuetude etude deuce : the adepts attained pure bodies even though they were using payables receivables and verses in every way to gain access to heavens and to teach . He had a hard time with stories. He had read very few. But as Nietzsche said: there were no fragrant flowers online course deadline Dandenong. Nietzsche never said anything. Not in English. Anyway: no facts only interpretations: they were individual fictional silicon substrate. Just as lying was easy under some conditions and truth serum made chestnut nutterverse severe reverse pastiche bolstered holster: the tag of fiction made exaggeration and lying possible. Hypocrisy is a useless word. Persona or masquerade was enough. Lying and dissembling could be a lively sport as long as people knew better. Lying and dissembling could be a lively sport as long as people knew better. Since the whole Matrix is a BIG fat lie: it didn’t matter if you use lies in guides of GUI. Guise sequin quint into the oblivion shivering isles. To the contrary: Ochre sea perishes in the stench of used kerosene. I am not sure. “Birds of a feather do flock together”: indeed, not only in the bird world but also in fiction.