Science has hidden some glorious facts from us, because nobody wants you to be lazy. Anybody who tells you not to be lazy is just telling you so because he/she knows you might find “truth”. After all, our race couldn’t propagate for an (estimated) 1.1 million years because people like me found truth (an amino acid had to be formed again, then the proteins, then some other shit, and then one of us finally decided to get their shit together). Think about it (now don’t really do it!), one has to be a crazy ass mothefuckin nigga to write something like “Bible”, and it has to be someone who minds smelling his own shit who said “laziness is our biggest enemy (comes from Gita and some shit like that). This post is starting to lose its essence….

They tell you that “you should do what you love”, but why aren’t they giving away the secret? The only way you can possibly fuckin do what you love is by not doing everything else, sint it? All these days we’re buying perceptions about “what you should/ought to”, and missing the shortest way to success: Laziness (beat yourself up; again, don’t forget to stop halfway through). Meditate, hang up your hang-ups and connect with your inner soul, see where you are heading, once you find laziness, nothing can stop you (of course, some therapy along with some California Kush will keep you on track). Laziness is the only thing that makes you more alive, our brains are programmed to rest, to conserve energy, hence the No.4 in the list of consequences (see below brother from another mother, or woman from another woman).

A lazy wishlist?

• Can I call it blag instead of blog (a just feels right for some reason, “o” fills up more air inside my mouth)
• Can I use Diapers in the night please? (if you said no, then you don’t know me)
• Lots of times, I won’t talk, no matter what you’re saying, just assume that I am practicing the art (and relishing it)
• This one is really important “Can I have someone who browses internet for me and flips of the pages of the book I am reading when I am not lazy?” (don’t worry, training and details can be worked out)
• Can movies be just 5 minutes long, please?
• I have a good sense of humor; can you just understand that I am just being lazy when I don’t laugh?
• Can I just think about doing things please? (Requires believing in the old wisdom that says “thinking is as good as deed done”

Consequences of laziness:

More and more people won’t go to church and temple and concept of heaven and hell will face a rebuttal.

• Richard Dawkins will stop writing books, he already knows the truth, but he is not lazy enough to not try to tell the truth to everyone.
• Unix operating systems will gain popularity as it is only used by the people who are most lazy (even the programmer who wrote Unix is reported to be extremely lazy)
• More people will start understanding that Freewill doesn’t exist.
• Sports will take a serious hit; the rules of all the games will have to be changed.
• A complete Idiots guide to laziness will be the only book taught at schools, when taught seriously, it could take up to 15 years of schooling to nail the basics.

I wanted to write more, but I have already used too many muscles, and this exercise has to be followed by some serious acts of laziness.

The Laziness litmus test

• You have to shit in the frying pan at least two times in your holy life time (Eat shit, and you are guaranteed a front chair at reception in heaven)
• From the previous list, you have to be a good programmer (in Unix please)
• You generally enjoy only one position while sex (spooning, and you will most probably adopt babies)
• You have published at least 3 research papers towards advance studies in ass-cleaning.
• You at least tube for 10 hours/day, 9 is fine, 8 is unacceptable
• That is it, never do more of anything.

PS: There’s some bad news for the ladies (in general) though, I won’t be setting off alarms for the middle of the night random sexual adventures. Don’t be judgmental though, my mind usually has no control over my penis, and I won’t accept cemented shit in your ass!! (My nose isn’t lazy too).

It was Friday, I was kind of happy, I always felt happy on Fridays, because the week was getting over, and because I still remained just enough sad to understand my sadness that wanted Saturday and Sunday to quickly precede another week. No seriously, I need answers, I am not doomed, and I am not given that. I sometimes did not understand if it was better to be rejected all together before dating or it was better to be at loss after losing some pride and self-respect. Did I agree? I say of course, I got succored into Fridays and rejected by Sundays, you now, now you will ask who needs a drink…

I realize the vagaries in my writing are too hard to stay abreast with. In retrospection, even I wonder what caused my mind to throw the words in a manner that it did. Yes, I want the audience and I want them to understand what I am saying, but I cannot let it be just obvious, I cannot just utter my belief with plain conviction because I do not want my readers to be sure about what I am saying. It seems I leave my readers with semi-digestible sentences and pieces of French fries dipped in ketchup sauce here and there—The paragraph above this one was just an example of it, if this is the first post someone has stumbled upon—shmuck-y, albeit from me!! (As if I am a king addressing his kingdom).

But my readers are Intelligent, it is assumed, I want to take the poetic license—I need it, I have said this way too often that I don’t mind diverting the audience to a warm sandwich instead of continuing with the next few words (lines, have you stopped?). I have been very well praised sometimes and I feed on that (sorry for being too honest), and I have been chastised and scorned (another adjective that needs revision) —by people who are close to me. “I do not like what you write, you have to stop writing about yourself and start writing something that people can connect with”—were the words of a woman I am addicted (revise please) to presently—I still maintain the same, why don’t you rather go and eat the sandwich? And then, there was another woman who told me that some of my expositions (common do you even know the meaning of that)—were like reading comprehension passages from CAT exam (damn I should have teed with that animal) —she made me laugh, but I couldn’t agree with her, still, and so I rant.

The longwinded and Hawaiian-dress kinds of sentences are here to stay, too bad, and I am going to crowd the web with this kind of loitering at least for sometime (I guess till I don’t completely degenerate, or till the woman of my life asks me to stop for the sake of continuation of the relationship). It isn’t about people getting bored, it is about whether audience really thinks that they have the time to spend on a page from which they might practically take nothing, yet stop by because it (the page) reflects something. I really don’t care if you are not used to watching “butterfly effect” kind of film, neither do I care if you are used to reading too much of structured writing. We all should continue doing what we like till there is at least one person in this world who stands by you—I have lots more than one, and I have every reason to sleep with that fact with my underwear off in the night.

I am not here to talk about a 450 pound guy who is still a virgin, but I will talk about him and even write a book about his life and his feelings if I change my mind, and it can still be made interesting (mind the use of “I” in the sentences again and again, I use it intentionally to create a sense of hatred towards me, the obnoxious I, I am, aren’t I?). A blogger or an author has to be father of the church where personal emotions and the characters are getting married, not everybody is as gifted as Gabriel Garcia. We all fake it till we make it, don’t we? Or in Dexter’s words—we all have a dark side. But that is not possible for few, lots of us cannot lose ourselves, the whole affair is not to get an external joy that is based on pretense, but (at least for me) to reach a level of emotional catharsis which matches with that of the audience. Most of the people try to strike a balance, which is what life is about (they will tell you), it is about balancing our external and internal needs. So we end up with motley, colors of which doesn’t even belong to us or matter to us lot of times.

Creativity in writing world is sometimes confused with being complex, the flowery prose (like the one I use most of the times) which runs for years before hitting a period, the convoluted metaphors, the sentences which are strung together in a very tight memory lane—forgetting any of the one will lead to a series of misunderstandings—is not our definition of success as writers. But if you remember, we all start working our way through complexities while we read too, we like it when more is said in less, and when less is more sometimes, don’t we all smile inside our minds when that happens in our favorite books? Isn’t Jazz complicated? Isn’t learning any art complicated? The beauty is always there, sometimes it has to be unearthed, and the effort required to so on part of both the producers and the observers is worth it. We have no right to question readers’ intelligence, and if somebody wants to keep it very simple, then he/she should write science textbooks instead of science fiction.

I hope I made my point this time at least.

–

The second woman I was referring to earlier still reads my essays (at least I think so) and I don’t think she reads them out of some obligation that she has to fulfill. She must think it is ok to have a style that can never be free from disconnected references and over-usage of metaphors, and she must be connecting—case closed.

To give you a better idea: I am an Indian fool (fool is bound to be mistaken for an actual fool by Indian readers here) trying to rub my shoulders with the guys out here in California. If I walk down the road of a place where I have spent most of the time in this life and say:

“Yeah, that is dank”

A quick reply would be: “(*&^#@##@ ”)…I mean it would be difficult to get one. Being aware of the situation, I will not say: “Hey, that’s not how you do it in southern California baby”.

I mean anybody who wants to adopt a culture would feel his/her way through few things that come to you slowly—language unleashes mystery again. I am digging my way through to something better all the time, so I started learning the “ways” of my hommies, the “ways” of people around in general.

I was repeating “yes, yes, I understand” to Joey all the time. I could see the hesitation inside both of us—an agreement which had grounds of almost a certain sense of acceptance to the fact that “we cannot understand”. So it continued…

Me: “you guys do understand most of the things I say, right?”

Mark (dabbling):  “Oh, for sure”

Sammy (with a little swag): “What do you think?” (I had said “Hell Yeah”)

Jordan (Fresh): “Of course fool”

Joey (fire): “Yes, but what we are saying is very differently understood by each one of us”

A sequence of words is processed so differently by different people at different times. It would happen to anybody, when we understand how world perceives us so differently all the time (very simple for Indian women—try to wear mini skirts all the time, you will know a thing or two).

Look at that letter “f” for e.g., I don’t think it would have made much of a difference to mankind if we had learned only the word “fuck” starting with that letter. We could have just said “pyre” instead of “fire”, really wouldn’t make much of difference, will it?

We both looked each other after a bit of time, and we both were sure at that moment that we had discovered something that is present around us all the time. We did not need words that time, the expression was through, the feeling when we experience the fact that “it just is”, not everything can be explained through words.

I am not here to fight for my race

Just being honest, and in the face

And telling you that it ain’t the case

I am just playing game, filling the space

Ajay is my name, ready to ace.

So, the snake charmer, are you ready?

Snooping in the hole, dancing on that beat already

I am working up a new one nice and steady

Common, are you ready to lose your religion and believe Mary Baker Eddy

That was nothing new, I usually don’t make sense—well I already said so, languages don’t make it easy!

PS: I would like to include this in the beginning because it might add some sense to what is to follow. I am not very good at humor, what I try to write, what I try to say, what I try to think are all disconnected, and I never intend anybody to believe me, I just hope to connect. Sometimes I wonder what makes me write all this stuff, I try to think what made me write about using public toilets, I sometimes try to use psychology and think about what were the preceding events that happened me to write this, but it is weird that I am sitting in the balcony of a hotel room, sipping some coffee, there is nothing in around me that paints a picture of a public toilet with urine sprayed over all the place.

My condition has probably intensified things for me, though I used to feel pissed off with idea of pissing in PTs. Always anxious, sometimes waiting, watching the faces around me who want to pee harder than I want to; everyone thinks they are more troubled than others in this life. Other times, when I have to poop in the toilets, I go blank, my identity swaps, as if for sometime, I become a stray animal imparted with just enough intelligence to find my way to a place where people can drop shit—and then I walk out in the open feeling like a guilty person who cheated on his girlfriend. I wish I could take a dip into the Ganges to expiate for my sins and flush my mind with thoughts of something incongruous to my situation—something that doesn’t make sense at all.

I feel filthier when it’s raining and I have to use the pubic toilet, the boundaries between waters of different colors fog my senses, and my face usually contorts while walking out of the PT and I am not able to get over it for at least 15 minutes or so. Of course there are signs on the PT area that it has been recently cleaned—some blue liquid, lack of sperm lying around here and there, lack of germs that might induce sexually-contractable-disease kind of things into you. But then, we still take the risk, we smoothen out the toilet paper, risk our lives by sitting on the toilet seat which has seen many filthy bums in its life time, the same toilet seat which has resigned to ever-lasting life of watching naked stuff and filth, and you sit down thinking the damage has already been done. And that is not over, you are literally scared to death in filth when somebody barges into your “space” when you forget to lock the door (if it has any), I don’t think life can get worse, you sometimes become really silent, and sometimes you scream just as you would do when faced with a tiger in front of you.

It gets even trickier for the women in India, where men just stick out their watering instruments anywhere they like and think about what their wives are cooking at home. No wonder lots of women in India think men are pigs, I mean we don’t eat shit, but we don’t do any better. Women would hate me if I start speaking the truth, about one of my cheap thrills in life, just like smoking at new locations, but mine is a more exotic thrill than most would assume.

Peeing is one of those beautiful feelings that human beings are endowed with, nobody, fucking nobody can take that away from us, in fact it is one of my cheap thrills, but here in America it is very difficult to find places to do it. But I still found few on the Pacific coast, with water saluting me, acknowledging the fact that not many do this thing in front of her eyes. Excuse me, I got to squeeze (damn I remember the Led Zeppelin number where Robert Plant keeps shouting, squeeze my lemon, I guess he was paralyzed, and his only way to pee was somebody squeezing—I know the body of what I am made of has got blood in it).  The cinematic values of pissing around the PTs is less than the narrative value that I am able to do here, that is why I am groping, scrounging for figurative that could make this post more sensational. My demi-explanation of the evil surrounding the public places has no clear grounds, no clear edges, I am getting self-obsessive, trying to get people read about things I deeply care about, isn’t that common?

I piss around almost all the times in the Blog, in my life, I get philosophical thinking as if I am one of the few ones who can do that (truth is far away from that), then I think that the French and the Greeks did it for number of years, not Everybody ended up being Voltaire and Kant, but I know I am just using innocence as my defense. My pee, which is really excrement, the residue of one living life being that which feeds, and tries to heal sometimes in other times.

Expressions in fuck:

shocked: Oh faaak! (Lasts for about .911 seconds); neither to short, nor gets lost, just about there kind of expression

Desire: Fuuck man! (It is kind of gape, the one that happens after watching something like Niagara Falls)

Guilty: fuck (it is a very-2 quick snap)– it is easy to guess why

Frustrated: Plain: ‘fuck yourself’

Sad: Faaaaaauck man (extended sigh on the A’s and just that ‘u’ slipped in so that it doesn’t mean “fake”)

Loneliness: Hfffmmuck (you exhale the air and suddenly chip in with ‘ck’, just in time—have to be skilled to do that)

Your girlfriend or boyfriend has slept with someone else: you close your eyes, you resist saying the word—it is a silent fuck-sigh; you just don’t know who (what) to fuck any more (it is sometimes called: to be fucked)

Though, you can coin words after enough practice, for e.g. Awesome: IncredFuckingble. Tired of shopping: Shopfucked (it just comes naturally, while driving a car or something, but it isn’t that easy—yes I am a stupid fuck, happy?)

Substitutes for the F word (why I reject them like women reject (almost all) desperate guys):

Faggot: A bit racial according to me, it is un-natural

Sucks: Middle class managers use that sometimes and “suck you” conveys wrong information (lacks that killer punch)

Bullshit: I really have nothing to say (it is self explanatory)

Cu**: Na, just doesn’t work out, too many female readers come here

Son of a bitch: Bitches never give birth to one I thought

—-

But I don’t know why I am talking about substitutes when I don’t know–The who? Yes ‘the who’ must have been ‘the who’? But fuck isn’t that fun to listen to for lots of ears; some ears just aren’t enough dirty to pull the word off. It is sometimes really difficult to know which ear likes it and which ones don’t. I take the chance anyhow, but I do end up disappointing few sometimes. There are lots of times when I set the playfield straight by just slipping the word in a sentence in a matter of fact manner, I can see the humbling flinch on the faces (more of a distort) just after I use the word, when the audience is beyond the norms where fuck can be used and “forgotten”. But that is my chance, to convey the signs of what is to come. Would you believe that a woman didn’t talk to me for 2 days when I said, “fuck you” to her?  Worst part was that I didn’t even mean it.

Modern Indian culture thinks uttering the word is “cool” in some ways, but the attraction doesn’t seem have its roots circling around emotions. In some places the word is mistaken for “insulting sex” or “rape”, really, and you might even be thought of as a rowdy and insensitive bloke, but that is an insult. I wonder how other cultures respond to F word. It is highly insensitive of people like me who utter the word even in front of parents and children, damn me. Thing is, we are discussing more than just profanity here, and English is more evolved language at least in this respect, so none of the other languages are versatile enough to have a word that can mean so many things at the same time. So whether you talk Mexican and say “chinga”, or you speak Hindi and say “ch**”, we are not really reaching there.

Technically, fuck can be used in any part of the word to mean anything, what more can people like me (who cannot write well) ask for? We can just throw that word here and there and pretend that we were “metaphorical”, you know what I mean? Other than the normal usage of where it acts as a mere intensifier, people like me, obsessed with the word, can mean “Hi” by saying “Hey fuck”. We can use the term momofucker, sometimes to mean incest, and sometimes just to sound awestruck. Fuck is like your pet word that you can fuck around with all the time—such is the non-reluctant conscience of the word—that it allows you use it because we always live up to the meaning of the word. You wake up in the morning and say “fuck it is morning”, afternoon: fuck he (she) didn’t call, evening: fuck he’s (she’s) hot, I don’t really know if fuck knows how fucking easy it has made life for people like “(f)u(k)s”.

But as the way life is–”every rose has its thorn”–it happens that Google doesn’t like F words. I say if comment spams can be dealt with, then my fucking posts should too be believed to be something more than just stupid fucks (Ah, I love how they always come to my rescue). I don’t even know what would I have done if these four letters of English language didn’t get together, and I owe a lot to the guy who decided to bring them together. I can’t be dysphemistic Google, I really can’t, and I can’t be so even in my day to day life, I don’t mix my emotions, I am as straight as the definition of line, it isn’t that I don’t care, but this is what works for me, and I rather would fuck with this.

Obama must have walked into his house and said “Hey honey, I am home, look what I have got, a fucking peace award!! Can you believe it? You better get ready to knock the peace shit out of me tonight”.

I am not really in a mood to critique the maturity of the decision to hand an award to Obama; many others are doing a very good job around the web.

What is peace?…are we talking about the ‘river man’ kind of peace, the peace that we experience when listening to music, or the kind of blank feeling that we feel after sex? If you ask me, I am at peace after having stomach full of food, I feel peaceful like a night in the lake of some Amazon forest. What is that understanding that we are talking about? Is it harmony? Is it togetherness?

It is a coincidence that I was reading one of the Einstein’s biographies before the sequence of events that urged me to write this. It had a quote: “Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding”. I am happy to know that I don’t know what peace means for the world, though I believe, the understanding has to come from within everyone of us, you and I understanding that won’t change this world. We have already reached somewhere irreversibly, and the concepts of War and Peace have taken a skewed place in our minds. But human civilization spectacle has achieved so many views on peace that we might explode the bomb actually trying to diffuse one while campaigning about who is “born” to do that. It was survival at first, now is back to survival again. The understanding cannot be spoken about, the understanding has to be a certain one, without force, without advice—as obvious as a choice made when you face the options: Jack Daniels and RC; Indian model or Victoria secret…; Mature men or good looking ones (a gross generalization at that).

Peace itself has lost its identity battling the number of things thrown at it: politics, religion, socialism, and things that come out of them. Peace is a worn out entity, paying tax for all the bliss that it has experienced—when the world before it existed without the need for definition or experience of it—“Damn, who was it last night”.

World doesn’t need a new hero like me to talk about peace; we all know “peace forces” are peacekeepers—thought so by the world governing body. It will be a rounded discussion if we try to understand whether we have military to fight law-breakers or do we have it because we feel insecure, and in trying to be secure, we are breeding more fear in others, and it just goes on. That is one of the reasons if the enlightenment happens against all the odds, then it will be omniscient and omnipresent one. Somebody has to make the first move, we cannot possibly be involved in a moral war while trying to solve the bigger war, the war that separates you from me and us from them and lot of times, between inside and outside us. Understanding peace seems a bit far, do we even understand ourselves? If we do, do we try to behave knowing that we know ourselves? I doubt.

We are a bit lost when it comes to knowing how can peace be achieved, is there any formula? Can we just take some lessons from history and pledge not to relive it? Do we even need it? — Really? Yes? Are we sure the tranquility will not make us stare at each other in a way monkeys sitting on the trees do? Isn’t wishing for peace against human nature? Isn’t it asking for virginity after 20 odd fucking years of life? Doesn’t it come in the way of evolution? (I don’t think I can write anything without tossing up that word). Or are we demanding certain kind of optimization, some kind of middle-path that we always want to tread on? Won’t that be Psychopathetic?—doing it in required quantities, killing few in the night, then coming back home in the morning and feeling good about the smell of the bloody red roses? Aren’t we just allowed to be confused with respect to this issue, just like mankind is confused about the purpose of its existence? Dazed life always looks at peace to derive meaning for its continuation, the reason to create peace in itself, the need to create a balance, a balance that will always demand war outside, you see?

But would you be ready with insanity loaded when God presents you with the opportunity to make a wish? Would your rationality be ready to demand exactly opposite of what you want to wish for? Like Indian Army family wanting me to be in the family? Or like a woman quibbling “Well, I have never been able to find the right man, like one who is both thoughtful and fun, one who both cooks and is good at household work, the one who is good in the bed as well as faithful, doesn’t watch sport, loves shopping….. ”. Will you be unreasonable to an extent where God suddenly says “Take your fucking peace”.

Are we wishing the right wish? Aren’t we inexplicably asking for Rasgulla, when we should be asking for something that just quenches our hunger? Or will we be caught in classic military problems and feel proud about the deaths of millions of Jawaans across the border? Or will we continue to be so hostile that we are unable to even see the enemies in a war? Are we ready to bear the costs? — Peace sells. We would still be lucky if God does exist—we can try our luck—whatever the fuck that means.

Where is the solitude? Where has it disappeared, when we are justifying our social-ness to an unbearable extent, how can we find peace? Are we looking for it in the right places? Three cups of tea and a bottle of wine a day, will that give us peace? Do we really need that question to be answered for us by someone else? No matter how optimistimicity I try to veil myself with, it doesn’t look as if we really want it, answering these questions will need from us a political joke that we are able to laugh at, a series of realizations that we are able to actualize, a series of definitions that we agree upon, a series of thoughts that we act upon. No longer can we be diplomatic and passive-aggressive about it—it is clear rudeness. To understand, we must face it, we cannot just shift places and talk about the intensity of the suns rays, the burden of proof lies with us and only us—Are you ready to buy now or are you holding off holding peace?

So Mr. George Lucas lands, a new hope arises—the voices echo, to and fro, they call the echoes as forces disturbing the peace. So they chase the sound of the footsteps, the echoes. The echoes actually have some message in them, but they won’t care for the message, they instead pledge to destroy the echoes, they all return, feeling victorious, jubilant, the king asks them the same question again—did you capture peace?

Ok, finally, is there a backup plan called as project runaway?

Yeah, even I was wondering, can’t we lure someone and tell him to play a game on the panel?

Fucktard! Get on it, activate

Sir!

But be careful you can easily spook, just remember the prayer…

Have you started the procedures?

By “us”, I mean you

Damn officer, what did you eat? This is how you want to spend the last minute of your life?

Sorry, I couldn’t find anything so I had to kill one of the afghani hostages for lunch

Ok, 5 4 3 …

Wait!! It’s been bothering me since morning, who was the actor in that star spangled Russian movie?

I have seen myself substituting muscle hijackers who took control of few lives and crashed into the twin towers. If FBI is tracking everything on the Internet that seems suspicious, I bet I will try to get into their records with this post. Coming right back, I often simulate holding the airplane transmission, watching the south tower from 100m distance and just pausing there, for lot of time sometimes, having a cup of coffee to savor the moment, “were you having coffee there Khalid?” I surely will ask him that question when I meet the turn– What does he must be thinking, just moments before he realized the Osama bin laden joke on 20^th December 1994, when they were planning for a trip to the sexiest islands near Israel.

Time stands still—nobody can even listen to the sound of air, it is only the eyes that can see, and feel what they can feel from the little that they have got left to feel. If I was there, I am not sure if I would have closed my eyes inside the plane or I would have watched the statue of liberty waving the torch flame, the flame, which always seems to say something light, but that day, it would have felt as if the statue knew what was happening and was just signaling to the entire world to stay away from the shores of New York.

I have rewound the scenes too many times, what if I was just a pedestrian walking past the buildings? Would I have just crashed on the road owing to my asthma, or would have I thought that Cannabis is legalized and America is finally breathing freely? May be I would have just felt ecstatic because I survived a near death scare, and would have felt god-like thinking if this cannot kill me, nothing can.

What would the people inside the plane who fought with the terrorists be thinking? Are those people altruistic (now what does that mean)? Were they patriotic? I’ll try not to sound surprised, but my cat isn’t drinking packaged refined milk since 7 days.

It is really difficult to make people believe about something. Best critical reasoning, plain simple facts, anything couldn’t have convinced them that killing should not be business. “Hey brother, I think I can reason you out of what you are about to do, would you care for a round of drinks?” Since I think that the fact those guys being more intelligent than me has more chances, they would know it is difficult to assume others non-intelligence, so I would have rather got my head pie barged out of the plane window falling directly into the human eating sheep fold.

September 11, before that, I did not know that such a thing called WTC exists, “sorry, What The Center?”  Was it a shopping mall? Another memorial has been raised, but I would still take a shopping  mall there, they would probably have been less motivated to crash into a shopping malls bathroom.

If the hijackers really are believed to be absolute “normals”, are they (in general) accepted well by the people around them? “Hey darling, I am really having sleepless nights because the date for my new project is approaching, I don’t know if I will succeed or not, anyways, looking at the plus side, I am going to get rid of you” and then an emotional response: “I am sorry honey, but I know you will succeed, it is completely normal to feel what you are feeling before such a huge project.” And then they make love over the fictitious world trade center built for a test crash/project.

I know normal rhetoric cannot (who knows!) provide with a knife to kill, but what did, then? Could we have made them believe what we want them to believe? We all know mind doesn’t lose the power to reason, it is latent, that’s all, nobody has ever asked for doing away with air, water and food. If only, given a chance, could we have? Is problem with people not having it or having it, or is it intrinsic? It is tough question to ask, like asking “chance or freewill?” We know from science that it works in both ways, so chance and some will gave direction to something that happened. We cannot control chance, but we can control the will, so could we have, can we? Numerous sensible things do not happen because there is no party with the incentives to do it, in spite of being exposed to the world (not being trained only in jihad camps) and its numerous possibilities, this world couldn’t offer the guys a single thing against their reason for doing something? Way back in the year when it happened, I still remember having a discussion with a friend; I can never forget that. I was cursing the mastermind behind the attacks and my friend was saying it is very difficult for us to understand the mind-state of the guy(s) who did it. I was hell bent on the fact that it didn’t really matter and that the act simply was atrocious beyond reason and explanation. 8 years hence, I certainly cannot say, “How could they have…?” As it is—We cannot reason someone out of something into which someone has not been reasoned into.

Saying that, there have been moments in my life, when being convinced to be an accomplice on “What? The Call…I‘ll take that” was as easy as it is for a Brazilian woman to become braless and order a man to become a monkey in the bed. Some psychological shit—Fear drags humans similar to the way hope pushes us. If you are given an incentive that life after death is going to be free from all the miseries, if you are convinced, then there is no fear, the fear, which is required in right quantities for survival, doesn’t let us know that we need it, we fear the fear, so much, that may be these guys decided to abandon it.

It doesn’t require one to be a staunch rebel to blame these things on society, trouble being, these societies operate disconnectedly, so it is very different to find unison unless we have the whole world listening to a speech by me. I have categorically stated this so many times, but nothing is going to change until I am allowed to co-ordinate the world single handedly. I am not against people floating over the shores of major cities awaiting another 9-11 and musing about how they could get lucky if people inside that plane decide to throw away all their possessions(cash) and… I am pretty sure that there was a person inside the plane that crashed into [WTF?], who was writing a book describing the exact events that took place that morning, I feel really sorry for him that his bestseller could not see the daylight.

“The deer, horse and the cow all eat grass, yet a deer passes small pellets, and cow excretes flat pancakes and horse passes globs of shit containing dry grass”

“Well, I don’t know why”

“Then why are you acting like you know about 9-11, when you don’t even know about shit?”

So where the hell is Mr. Osama anyways? Listening to led zeppelin? Learning salsa? Is he shooting for a private film which will reveal the truth behind the 9 11 attacks as well as his future plans for making world a better place to live? With the kind of money these people have, may be entire Al Qaeda group is transforming itself by plastic surgeries and few of them may already be operating inside institutions like CIA and KGB, ISI etc, and this time, no wonder Michael Jackson is believed to be Al Qaeda’s favorite, and they all sing “Heal the world, make it a better place, for you and for me and this entire human race”, every night after a gruesome who’s-who drill which aims at debunking each others impersonations.

In a letter written to his wife Osama begged his wife and children to not feel responsible for anything that is happening in this world—an excerpt: “Yes, I am terrorist, so what? I still have a heart that beats, and I love you, although I would have loved you more had you helped me in the Mumbai blasts, you know what a cruel time that was and our relationship was on the edge of an AK-56. Children, sorry for the slack in supply of grenades, I just read somewhere in the Quran that grenades are not meant for age groups below 12, but you can look forward to a blast after that. Love and terror…Osama”

Although I am amused by the efforts of these terrorist groups, I have one thing to say to them “it’s already fucked up out there, why are you hell bent on making it even worse? Please don’t fuck with us”

So entrenched are we in our ways that we really have difficulty in drawing another circle, first one is always easy. The burden of proof lies on whom? On me, you, Bible, Quran? Just like the alleged perpetrators labored under the delusion of a higher law, we all seem to be acting in our own ways, only that we can’t see a building crashing down, so we don’t mind. It is easy for us to comment and write about few things when they are distant in lot of sense, but I always feel if you want to hold someone responsible, then you got to accept responsibility. Each and every floor of the building doesn’t have to be melted in order for the building to crash; a missing link might achieve that.

Haven’t we all at some point of time or another felt the need to set the world on fire? Say if you are provided with all the resources to do so, would you have done it?

It is a natural act, yes, and we don’t have to be good. That is how it has been decided by evolution for us; it is surprising however. It is the most biological aspect of extending the race; yet, anybody who merely possesses sexual organs is capable of reproducing. As complicated as it already is, nature made its job easier by doing so. Imagine a world where who can reproduce and who cannot is decided by a random probability, because we are so obsessed with the concept, let us say god is the one who decides who can and who cannot reproduce. There would be whole lot of research and economics around the thing, life simply wouldn’t have been the same. But when everything in nature tends to be implemented in need-to-explore kind of fashion, why does reproduction fall out of the circle? –both asexual and sexual. Sure, we are going towards same-sex reproduction by artificial methods, but we aren’t spending less energy than spent during sexual reproduction process. Also, why are so many species involved in sexual reproduction when such a thing comes in the way of so many pursuits? (Not having a choice is one good and lame reason).

Would you care to speculate about the reasons?—never gave it a thought before this, although I did speak about this to a girl sometime (1.5yrs or so) back. She found the very thought to be enlightening and kissed me hard for that, it is funny there were lot of times when I actually used to feel weird doing what we used to do, she ain’t gonna read this, so I think I have evaded another moral-human-social-whatnot tragedy. Surely, the desire to break the rut and take a break from reading books might be one of the reasons now—“I can sympathize with you ape-men/women, I know how difficult it must be for you people to watch above from heaven (or peak from down hell) and curse yourself for missing out on the mother of all, and biologically naturally available fun activity on the mother fucking planet earth” (I edited what followed.. considering the kind of audience who receives my thoughts J).

A study says not much has changed over the last 100,000 years, we still seek pleasure from reproduction (except for few masochists, who don’t get their due credit), and the feelings are still mostly hardwired into us like hunger for food and need to drink water. The thing that has probably changed is our open-ness about the act; example, people like me objectifying it and taking it to a level lower than “true love”. True hardwired, I think most of do feel the chemical changes, but I doubt one just dreams up a reproduction manual of sorts, the information usually has been passed on to us. Similarly the information must have been distributed in those early ape-times. Due to lack of communication, so many diverse areas would have been sex-draught. Sex would have been reinvented so many times before it reached the maple tree leaves and could be disseminated to everybody for getting enlightened—“but I still feel sad for you up there who….”.  I feel dejected for those who might have passed their 80’s and suddenly saw a sexual revolution in their society, dreaded and haunted by the thoughts of not being able to do “it”.

So about those text-book type roaming ancestors, how would they have discovered something about us, about us? My momo-@@@, just get the fuck back ….ok…

A male was watching for animals coming from far off, so that he can pounce upon them. A voluptuous woman who doesn’t realize that she is susceptible to accidental rape is sitting under the tree, wondering what she can do about her body odor. The male watches the sunrise, he suddenly looks away, his pupils suddenly dilate and he goes numb for a moment, falls directly over the lady who is rubbing some leaf on herself to cure the odor….

Who discovered it is still a trickier one. Being the more curious one, who doesn’t understand what to do with time; I guess it must be the male ape.

Also, males would have observed that lot of people are similar to them and lot of them aren’t, the one who aren’t have got some softer tissues on the top and are missing an organ between the legs.

WARNING: (danger ahead)–That is why I always wonder if man invented masturbation first and then the actual thing, or the other way around.

May be it could have been a cure for sneezing, apothecaries all over the world would have started prescribing sex as a cure for the deadly viral infection.

Extreme boredom and lack of innovation, as they say, “necessity is the mother of all inventions” might have lead to discovery of having to reproduce.

Watching other mammals reproduce is another possibility.

Celebrating various occasions like discovery of  “speech” and language might have had those people ecstatic and people might have grown crazy over that and again ended up doing things they thought might not be of important consequences.

F–Intendro mikwa calypso intwandra killeria

M–gumama hapla iyeli who kya prasteria

F—fok, fokya, mindre wodres, huma kuma

M–Umwa intre mikwa!!! Huma huma, ostre ma killeria?

And the female must have got stuck into the guy —aggression

I like to borrow the following possibility from Hindi films: A female must be washing herself and male must have dived into the same water..Bang!!DoosZZZzzzzz.

Well, not really, chances are flimsycal, but getting around the exact event, it is possible for coincidence-moment to exist, and it would have just made sense for the both the sexes to do something that they usually don’t do. Doesn’t it happen with us lots of times, that we do something new without any reason–who gives us the right to underestimate the capabilities of our ape-cestars?

Thanks to some Einsteinium or Darwinian god, we are here. If we had been directly thrown into this digital nomad world, heaven would doubt hells existence.

Also, there is a possibility, albeit remote, that human beings are going to lose the power to reproduce; I would like to know how that would alter the conscience of Al Qaida-like groups, they might feel it is their responsibility to see through the extinction of the race.

And if it is dependent on who can and who cannot, or depends on the quality of performance in the process, then the most important subjects taught in the schools would be “science for girls” and a similar you know what. One fine day I might wake next to my girlfriend and ask, “What the hell are we doing without clothes on?” And she might reply “looks like the naked thief brought his wife yesterday night”. “Oh, I thought we might have been doing something weird I read in the book the other day”.

If we look at population stats, sex was much tattooed in the west in the early civilizations—Indians on the other hand mastered sex for pleasure, very different from the later Indian cultures and societies which thought (and think) that sex is not a joke and fun-activity, and instead pursued it with a sense of purpose and seriousness—now we have enough population to inhabit another milky way and enough people that can be sacrificed during mass destruction operations—did I just utter sex!!! Fuck-damn me– did I really use that word? Damned my Indian soul, forgive me personal god.

It is hair-raising to know the way we evolved from simple hunting and reproducing creatures into something extraordinarily complicated beings that spend lot of time in choosing the best-looking lingerie wear. Although the reasons for discovery can be debated, the way humans have evolved sexually has been possible because reproduction remains a simple thing. Even the discovery would have been possible very early because it is as basic as science can get, like opening and closing the bottle.

In the sense of word, we haven’t biologically evolved when it comes to reproduction. We haven’t changed or adapted—yes, we have, as I said–the habits like nestling in a closed room, not doing it in the public, etc. but can’t really call that evolution. It is not as if we have a different gene pools, each operating in different areas, harboring different attributes, suddenly came up with an alternative plan for residing on the planet without multiplying, or say multiplying differently than we have been for thousands of years. May be it is going to change and change is already happening, but we are not able to spot the microevolution. May be males will slowly evolve into creatures who can deliver babies whenever they want. May be females will spit some kind of liquid into the males which will be called female-male-insemination-evolution.

Also, we don’t really see the need to change anything right now when all we need to do right now is just unclothe ourselves. Experiencing serious laziness is part of our spiritual growth, and we would rather justify our existence instead of experimenting.

In many species, males develop prominent secondary sexual characteristics. A few oft-cited examples are the peacock’s tail; coloring and patterns in male birds in general, voice calls in frogs and flashes in fireflies. Many of these traits are a liability from the standpoint of survival. Any ostentatious trait or noisy, attention getting behavior will alert predators as well as potential mates. How then could natural selection favor these traits? —This totally refutes my claim that males are the one who invented the art. May be females are playing the game ever since, and they realized their capabilities and hide them only in an attempt to not look desperate.

Now and then, to satisfy those “urges”, I have to get less technical, it’s hardwired. But when I think about it from a more technical angle, my mind would have settled if the whole deal would have only been biological phenomenon waiting for its turn, instead of this thing being what it is right now—Draupadi getting all the attention in one of the most historic battles of mankind.

As of now, it is not right of me at this age to wonder about why sexual urges can get one to behave so lame, but then I wonder, and I wonder. I sometimes get caught in very awkward situations like thinking about getting my nose done when I am about to kiss somebody, brushing my teeth right in the middle of screaming sex, about killing someone when I am about to come…really awkward, I some how had to get that out now. The awkwardness is attributed to society, it has given me a bit more to chew, when I could have swallowed it and been satisfied, it reminds of propriety every time I just want to be animal, makes me bump into morality when I am naked and I don’t want to produce another me, makes me want to see the pictures of a older me when I want to be satisfied with what I have right now, makes me want to see a part of me in something that I can’t be, society also tells me there is no meaning to my life without me contributing to natural selection. And then it gets really awkward because I seriously sit down and try to make a plan and I end up with thoughts like the ones I have just written down.

Rest of the sexpellation doesn’t really want to go into this document, I talk about stork theory, and how aliens have found alternatives for reproduction. I also have to propose a new scientific theory giving evidence that the first ever-reproducing mammal escaped planet ethorea and accidently got thrown into Pacific Ocean. I would end the paper proposing how luck and sex are such related topics and lot of groundbreaking research is not gaining pace because of negligence towards the relation.

Hence cometh God—thy he shall unto, thy shalt never thy neighbor, I doth thy neighbor.

Hadeth God asketh opinion on this one—I shalt telleth, you shall maketh people ofth clay.

• “Wine from a Nasik instead of a French   DOMAINE MARC JOMAIN OR  CHÂTEAU ELGET”

• “In house/In hostel room parties (with old monk) instead of pub or club parties”.

• “Working late in the office instead of usual eyeing-the-perpendicular on the clock”.

• “At work, act as if the future of the company depends on your performance today”.

• “Invite for a really late birthday party, very few might turn up”.

• “Total defiance—Refute the concepts of gravity, earth-is-round and similarly  the concept of birthday— call it illusion and maya“.

• “Imagining a religious life ahead instead of thinking like a Liberace”.

• “Wining about lack of money days before your actual birthday, instead of saying birthday is just another day”

• “Lying about birth date, saying it was misquoted by family, instead of lying about age.”

• “Recycling old stuff feeling their newness instead of looking down upon them”

• “Acting very old, wise and “practical” –valuing creativity for once, saying “ I want this birthday to be “different” “

• “Shower the wisdom of “Happiness doesn’t lie in materialism, let us think about killing Buddha”

• “Talking about the bad effects of alcohol and smoke, and sounding like the owner of a Tea estate by talking about medicinal value of Tea.”

• “Indian obsession with cola-chips-cake, 3C as I like to call it, might do the trick.”

• “Inviting people for a normal dinner in the name of “traditional dinner” and mixing “bhang” (an Indian version Cannabis) in the food.”

• “Referring to thesaurus instead of dictionary for the entire day.”

• “Girl friends don’t fall for all these things (at least in my experience), so you have to be really creative then, say lying about death of a person who has already signaled off.”

• “Women are more smart (lets face it guys), remember there might be more birthdays to come and women can ruin your life if you don’t keep that in mind.”

• “In India, you will find two kinds of women, North-Indian and South Indian—they both behave similar after hearing the word “birthday”, so my information was redundant, I know that.”

• “As for me, I would spend my recession-time by stewarding in other’s birthday parties and picking up condoms and bottle corks from their swimming pools.”

Cant think of more right now, welcome to comment and add to the list, you never know……

But what do I do now? read some manual, curb my compulsiveness, like I curbed my drive to steal beautiful things? Or should I read some Online tips to double your dating manual? No, I think I should confess the onslaught of intrusive thoughts with a priest in a church, instead of breaking waters to prevent further rubbing away of my brains. Off the track, but I just observed that my name is Ajay Jetti (in all the records after college) and I seem to use this name, but my passport has Ajay Jetty typed on it. One fine day I am just going to evade a lawsuit against me using this OCD-washing-hand as my cover–“Sorry? Jetti isn’t even a word! I am Ajay Jetty; I refute it for the love of god”

I wish my brain had chosen some other kind of thing, like “mental status examination ability failure”, sounds fun, but the current one is making me less productive; I don’t know if I can last writing a 20-25 minutes of writing small blog post (like all the posts in this blog), without washing my hands atleast once (as I type this, I am just back from washing hands). And what about bathing ha? Yeah, I seem to wash myself these days when I am bored (apart from the regular washing chores). I can’t write (atleast now) about how I feel after using public toilets these days, I can tell you that I feel like someone has taken away my right to free speech, no no no, that is already squandered by you know what and you know who, anyways, yes, right to write? Yes, seems more appropriate.

Manav Nair was my friend/room-mate/guitarist/dope-mate/ in college. He died few months back. The last time I saw him was near a lake, the same lake in which he died swimming (for reasons not known). Ok, coming to point, when I had decided to drop out of college after second year, we were roomies for about a month—I remember not having a bath for 12 straight days, Manav was used to it, I thought I can do it too. I sometimes used to wake up with a dog sleeping next to be in my bed….

And tonight on CBS at 9, American doping industry battles the………

Sorry for the break, I had to take a bath after writing the previous lines. I don’t intend to push myself getting rid of this OCD, in a way it isn’t that bad a thing when compared to lot of other things. What I had OCD to blink my eyes a hundred times per minute? That is scary, I mean seriously. After  “experimenting love” with a woman friend (lack of figurative) last week (don’t worry I am writing your name darling), the usual positions were occupied after the “love” was done, she was lying with her head partly on my chest, and her right shoulder partly on my left hand, my right hand on her back, I hope I did a good job for you to figure out the exact scene. You wouldn’t believe it, the washroom was right in front of my eyes, I mean you can get off the bed and there you are—you can just wash your hands. I was already done washing, she was done washing, the time I am talking about is when you get “settled” after making love, I wanted to sleep quickly, and otherwise, I would again do to and fro to the washroom. But after a while I gave up, I finally asked her “can I wash my hands?” she said No. Ok, I just forgot two things while typing the last few lines—One, that this is not Letters to the penthouse, second…I mean come on!