Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The Pit

Young man, after many days pass, remember these cold lonely nights, when you just can't understand why, and the bits that make any sense loudly blame you.

Remember these too long nights, how you ache for contact, real human contact, but all the phone yields is group chat nonsense, and sleep is sweet unconscious escape.

Remember these sad nights, in which the future looms pitch black, and the present is only dim, and the past only slightly better lit through the rosiest tinted glasses you can scramble together.

Many years hence remember these dire nights, how often they come; how you embrace brutal truths, kissing their cruel feet in submission; how you surrender to despair only to rouse yourself to revive a desperate, belated resistance; how you clutch at unavailing straws of hope as a swirling vortex sucks you to an inevitable fate; how the light at the end of the tunnel recedes further away; how none but GOD sees, hears or cares for your struggles.

Young man remember.

Monday, October 10, 2016


Tired of ignoring me and of being ignored, the scorned woman worked herself into as mighty an indignation as all her insincerity could muster. I did not see her approach my desk, but her voice right in my ear calling my name made me look up and greet her with a mixture of pleasant surprise and calmness.

Her voice wavered, she anxiously stammered out her demand. "I'm leaving in ten minutes. Are we gonna talk or what."

I obliged.


The confrontation was relocated to a conference room, away from prying eyes and overhearing ears.

She settled across the table from me and fixed me a hateful glare, which she could not long sustain. I was amused by her, how she was trying to act the victim, hoping to bring me to heel with the sheer fury of her affected outrage at my "accusations."

I held her gaze as her stream of grievances gained rapidity and her animated gestures all over the conference table stretched my smile.

At length she too began to suppress a smile. Then, unable to meet my incredulous gaze any longer, she was forced to close her eyes to maintain her indignation.

She detected that the battle was lost already, but even a dying horse has some kicks to kick.  Desperation drove her argument into far-fetched premises and non-sequitur conclusions. It was then that all apprehensions that I had about this degenerating into an ill-tempered shouting match, they all retreated and took cover behind her closed eyelids.

More words came out of her mouth but they had ceased to register sense in my brain. What I did decipher from the jumbled, rambling protestations of innocence was not an inkling innocence, but the feeling that she cared enough to give it a shot despite obvious stage fright in the glare of my steady gaze.

It warmed my heart.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

The Exclusivity Illusion

All that exuberance that sprung from  a little attention from a cute colleague made me careless. When I'm careless all I hear is raucous applause in my ears: "go! go! go!" I lowered my horns and charged towards the fluttering red rag.

At first she was nervous and defensive as we settled down to eat.

Red wine mellowed her down gradually but wonderfully. An unceasing stream of words flowed from her lips, I revelled in the delivery, her relaxed tone, her moving lips. Soothing music rounded out the atmosphere.

The hours crawled by, the wine ran out. Nothing remained with which to quench the thirst.

Nothing signified that she had a boyfriend.

Friday, September 30, 2016

The Thirst is Real

Whenever I get thirsty in the midst of a working day a strange thing happens: I get a very hard and very uncompromising erection. My thirst erection is harder than my normal erection, but it is a very asexual erection. Fortunately all it takes to mellow the little guy down is three glasses of water, which should not be a problem so long as I can make it to the dispenser without being spotted by those who lack understanding.

I'm only saying this because girls have taken to referring to men who give them any attention as "thirsty," as if we regard their vacuous inanities as cool water. No, princess, the thirst is real. If you get out of our way we might make it to the water dispenser.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Mere Ramblings. Do not read.

This being my blog I should have declared that I got a job at the start of this year, and updated everyone about it too. Did not.

I also stopped writing long-winded tales about the girls and myself, tales which, summarized, would simply say "Friend Zone." All those tales do is convey fuzzy feelings of some guy (me) having a crush and reading too much into mundane interactions with skirtwearers, which is a pathetic sight coz everybody who knows anything knows I ain't getting any. Another one the other day voluntarily declared herself to be in the sister zone, can you imagine such an outrage.

I have enough work and play on my plate nowadays not to think about these things too much, ever since I basically accepted that my long experience in being alone qualifies me for many more years of solitude.

Then I realized I enjoy and look forward to it now. Freedom, etc.

But the other day one of my female colleagues stopped giving me curious glances and started staring deep into my eyes and seeking me out at every half chance and roaming back and forth past my desk and looking for excuses to make me go to her desk and saying pretty much any old thing to keep us talking. Yea she likes me, her company is tolerable, despite her multitude of feminine quirks, no actual red flags. And I have a rough idea what this pretty petite perky bombshell wants.

A colleague observed our electric dynamic and drew up a mock marriage certificate on a sticky note, what a clown.

So, lunch hour, this lady and I were chatting during a long leisurely walk to exactly nowhere (the walk facilitated the talk). When we ran out of small talk she started to tell me how many "admirers" I have in the workplace. Even as I tried to coax her into listing their names, I could see how bothered by it she is.

Back to the topic at hand - me. I'm rambling here, it's allowed if your blog has not yet hit triple-digit following. Also bragging a bit. Gimme a break, such things don't happen to me everyday.

All that remains to be seen is whether I will remain true to form and ruin this indestructible opportunity by losing it in a thick fog of rationalizations, foremost of which is my ideological zealotry for the single life, which zealotry now faces, ahem, challenges.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Gods of the Copybook Headings - Rudyard Kipling

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.
We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.
We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.
With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton ; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses ; they denied that a Pig had Wings ;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.
When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."
On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."
In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."
Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters , and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.
As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Double Standards

There was a headline story some time back, in which a man grew a pair of breasts after sleeping with a married woman (not his own wife). This unnatural development allegedly arose because the woman's husband had arranged with forces of darkness to inflict a pair of breasts on all trespassers.

Now the print article openly displayed the man's black-magic-induced breasts whereas a woman's wholesome natural breasts would never be so brazenly published. It makes one wonder really how twisted the media is. Is shock value that important?

It's kind of instructive however that a pair of breasts on a man is not desirable whereas women prize their packages highly. If sleeping around were proven to grow busts, then more women would do it do it do it, but their problem would be where to find men to sleep around with, for they would certainly avoid sleeping around.

But this is a case involving forces of darkness.

The natural world clearly demonstrates that the social double standards between the genders arise from their anatomical  biological differences.

PS: Leave people's spouses alone.

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Multi Media

Why are there no pictures on my blog? Because I bleed enough of the content my heart on this blog that a total stranger can paint my portrait accurately!

Anyway, concentration spans being what they are nowadays, I do not blame modern so-called readers for being unwilling to trudge through walls of text while their multiple social media accounts are chock-full of funny memes and videos.

Behold, here be text.

I don't know which is the biggest hindrance to relationships today; pride or fear.

Pride is that guy or girl ( perhaps you) who likes someone else but thinks it beneath their dignity to let them know, or to sustain contact. Si you have two likers not using their cellular gadgets to stay in touch but wishing the other would initiate it. And they both stare longingly at each other's contact hoping by some unknown forces of telekinesis to trigger an incoming call by focussing a diabolical glarr on the phone contact. It never works even though both should combine their simultaneous efforts in this black art. As reality dawns, fervor cools, and all too quickly both become hardened in mutual resentment. Nor is this the end the matter, no. Not being fully conscious of their real motive, they both set out to prove to one another how they don't need one another anyway, and thus their attraction, un-actualized, becomes the chief cause of their estrangement to each other's mutual harm! Twisted but true.

Fear is that guy or girl (perhaps you?) who's all about protecting themselves from heartbreak. Instead of saying "nothing ventured nothing gained," which is correct, they say "Nothing ventured nothing lost." Which also is correct in a glass half empty kind of way. So they wallow in a multitude of shallow associations, quickly wading out the minute they start to get wet. Perhaps one day long ago they went skinny dipping in the lake and inadvertently drank more murky water than they intended, requiring mouth to mouth resuscitation after being fetched some distance beneath the surface, or worse, being found washed ashore barely alive. Since then even sitting on the shore is torture to such and the word "swimming" is thoughtcrime and they steer all conversations well away from the topic.

Which is worse? Fear or pride?

Wednesday, August 17, 2016


This is awkward.

No, I am not addressing that to blog readers as the forerunner to an oft-repeated apology about neglecting the blog and swearing to write more regularly. I think them too intelligent to be repeatedly taken for fools on such recurring and unvarying round trips.

I am neglecting the blog officially, the way I usually do, when unexpected events in my personal life have not violently beaten the living ennui out of me, at least momentarily.

Nowadays listlessness like cling film inures me from the joy of existence, nor does the fire inside register more heat than ashes in a fireplace with the odd surviving ember complacently giving up the ghost.

But here's the awkward part. Just when I'm ready to march absentmindedly through the rest of my life, resigned to pursuing everybody else's dream seeing as my own lie buried all around me in the cemetery that my memory has become, the corner of my eye  detects an unexpected movement, amidst the headstones.

And a hand emerges from the ground, followed closely by its counterpart, after which the grave beneath half-heartedly surrenders its unwilling occupant, for she, apparently prematurely buried, refuses to remain therein.

Her headstone remained blank, nor did I ever dare to frivolously breathe her name while she lived, but she afflicts me enough cardiac damage upon her reincarnation to make me locate the blog again, I'll tell you that much...

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Us or Nothing

We are cursed as blessed;
As enthralled as exasperated;
Tears and laughter erupt together;
For thus it goes with us:

the moment that drew us
The spark that lit us
The past that trails us
The faith that moves us
The lust that heats us
The love that binds us
The barriers that forestall us
The dysfunction that repels us
The pride that parts us

And all our hate, and all our love:
It dooms us or saves us