The animal in us all
Even as I was penning down my latest post, I thought it would be a good idea to get somebody else to write here. And who better than VK, one of my closest mates, someone I know for about close to 15 years now, someone who knows me like very few do and who incidentally, also writes for a living. I plan to get him to write here every now and then, if only to bring in some fresh energy.
So VK, here you go….the canvas is all yours…
What is left to write, when all I see is a million individual thoughts and expressions that surrounds the vastness of cyber space. Just like the coffee that we sip to tickle the taste buds, similarly writing a blog tickles the minds of the unheard 'word (th or thy)'-less warriors. Why do we do it? It seems we find great pleasure in making our brain as sensual as the tongue or the skin. So here I am in my best mate's blog, at his insistence, to connect with those of you who are blog rebels, fairies, lovers, wankers, cricketers, friends and countrymen. This is short note for us 'pigs' from the world of Orwell.
Why are we animals? Here we were, the girl and I in a wine lounge, loving each others company. We order a bottle of red wine and as I pick up the slender and smooth green bottle, I wish I was touching her skin at that moment. As I uncork the bottle, I dreamt I was removing her green top. As my mind tricks me in to intoxication, I look at her and give her an ass-uring smile. Then I tell her 'You have done well'. She replied with a smile, as her tongue hisses out and her teeth bite her lips, she said, 'Thanks to you, I am mes(s)merised by your prowess on the world around you.' Well! I said, "Its because of all the things that happen when you least expect them to, I have experienced the worse on the field." Then as I poured the wine in to her glass and then in to mine, I wondered how long would this last now. I looked at her eyes intently and then she would do the same. We spoke a lot with our eyes.
Now, completely intoxicated, we hold our hands and walk out for the evening. But as I try to control the machine in the head, stopping it from entering forbidden territory. I can barely control the one in my pants. Then I ask god to give me strength, leaving the girl to play the part of the devil. As I drop her by the door of her house, she looks at me again and lets her eyes become the ignition key for the male "harm(b)one". The next thing I know, there is car zooming on TV, with the Fast and the Furious playing on DVD and the lady continues her rant about how handsome "Dominic Torreto" was and how she wished that I looked like him. The animal in me fell from clould nine and she was in seventh heaven with Dominic.
Now for all of us who think I should try again. Why do I have to be the animal? Now that both the girl and I want to sleep in the fantasy forest inside our heads, is there any meaning in what we really want to be. I want to sleep with her (which in reality has no meaning to my life, albeit satisfying my appetite temporarily, just like coffee). Importantly, she too wants to sleep with an imaginative body (which has no meaning again).
Similarly, we bloggers are animals trying to find reality in cyber chips. What should we do? Get the blog to help you and not create your fantasy. But people often want to get down at the wrong stop or miss the bus(t)!
See you later.
"Emptyglass".
"There once was a note pure and easy. Now it sounds bizzare"
So VK, here you go….the canvas is all yours…
What is left to write, when all I see is a million individual thoughts and expressions that surrounds the vastness of cyber space. Just like the coffee that we sip to tickle the taste buds, similarly writing a blog tickles the minds of the unheard 'word (th or thy)'-less warriors. Why do we do it? It seems we find great pleasure in making our brain as sensual as the tongue or the skin. So here I am in my best mate's blog, at his insistence, to connect with those of you who are blog rebels, fairies, lovers, wankers, cricketers, friends and countrymen. This is short note for us 'pigs' from the world of Orwell.
Why are we animals? Here we were, the girl and I in a wine lounge, loving each others company. We order a bottle of red wine and as I pick up the slender and smooth green bottle, I wish I was touching her skin at that moment. As I uncork the bottle, I dreamt I was removing her green top. As my mind tricks me in to intoxication, I look at her and give her an ass-uring smile. Then I tell her 'You have done well'. She replied with a smile, as her tongue hisses out and her teeth bite her lips, she said, 'Thanks to you, I am mes(s)merised by your prowess on the world around you.' Well! I said, "Its because of all the things that happen when you least expect them to, I have experienced the worse on the field." Then as I poured the wine in to her glass and then in to mine, I wondered how long would this last now. I looked at her eyes intently and then she would do the same. We spoke a lot with our eyes.
Now, completely intoxicated, we hold our hands and walk out for the evening. But as I try to control the machine in the head, stopping it from entering forbidden territory. I can barely control the one in my pants. Then I ask god to give me strength, leaving the girl to play the part of the devil. As I drop her by the door of her house, she looks at me again and lets her eyes become the ignition key for the male "harm(b)one". The next thing I know, there is car zooming on TV, with the Fast and the Furious playing on DVD and the lady continues her rant about how handsome "Dominic Torreto" was and how she wished that I looked like him. The animal in me fell from clould nine and she was in seventh heaven with Dominic.
Now for all of us who think I should try again. Why do I have to be the animal? Now that both the girl and I want to sleep in the fantasy forest inside our heads, is there any meaning in what we really want to be. I want to sleep with her (which in reality has no meaning to my life, albeit satisfying my appetite temporarily, just like coffee). Importantly, she too wants to sleep with an imaginative body (which has no meaning again).
Similarly, we bloggers are animals trying to find reality in cyber chips. What should we do? Get the blog to help you and not create your fantasy. But people often want to get down at the wrong stop or miss the bus(t)!
See you later.
"Emptyglass".
"There once was a note pure and easy. Now it sounds bizzare"
posted by Shree at
6:12 PM
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