There ain't no street nor sunshine
no time to think, no time to rhyme
when the sun goes down so does time
no kiddin', it ain't worth a dime.
I'm workin my ass off alone
it do no good, nor is there fun
was jus a mother fuckin mistake done
it do no good, trust you me, son.
They come an turn their backs on me
I screw noone, but they screw me
so i try to let go, let it be
but hey, this was ma territory
They fucked up ma pretty little days
no hard feelings, no real despise
but somebody's gotta pay the price
no pleasure in jus huge big cries.
This is me, son, now you know
she's gone, they've taken your mama now
i miss her, i just wan her love
but i 've become the rogue somehow.
I wanna stay here I swear
but things aren't goin nowhere.
I've gotta leave, i've gotta run
I've gotta run till the bloody sun.
Everybody's on to me now,
I wish to God I could burn somehow
Restart afresh with no mistakes done
To give you the life, I din have son.
There ain't no street nor sunshine
Good lord knows I love you hon
don hate me if you find me gone.
when you wake up one sweet morn.
There ain't no street nor sunshine.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
The American (sitcom) dream
If one has offered a box of scrabble letters to an opponent for them to pick seven, one would be aware of the rampant shaking that precedes it, lest the opponent remembers where each letter is and picks to his convenience. That is how I feel my life has been since the last time I blogged - like a box of scrabble letters ruthlessly shuffled to nobody's advantage in particular.
What is the American dream? It is your imagination of how adult life would be, based on stuff you downloaded from LAN and watched hours on end in college. (I am talking about sitcoms - Friends, How I met your mother, Two and a half men, Seinfeld..)
Here's the dream: You work for a couple of hours a day (making jingles or telling jokes) and you spend the rest of your time with friends and food and sex. Alright, at some (drunk) point in life, when I was more honest than usual, I realized that there was no hope for the third. If the sex people were having world over could be quantified and represented by the space in my 1 TB hard disc, I didn't even have enough bits to make character. So I shrugged it off and fitted the dream to the Indian context. No character, no sex. Food and friends were perfection. I had my hard disc to make up for the rest.
Sometime this year, I started working. I was ready to experience life as rich as Charlie's or as fun-filled as Phoebe's. Food and Friends - boy, was I going to have plenty of them.
The thing about being friends with your colleagues is that it is not possible. Yeah, you've found people who don't earn more than you or less than you. That way, you're neither jealous nor guilty. But you never know what could happen if you say something insensitive or inappropriate or just outright stupid. And knowing me, it's almost certain I will. It's not college where they'd just do you a favour and stop talking to you. Here, you can get fired. Which means switching from cribbing about time and money in my office to cribbing about money and time on the road (where I'd rather be than at home).
I have begun to adore food. Sometimes, I think that's what I live for. After all, it is hard-earned and there are different kinds of exciting food in the world. There's pizzas and pastas, noodles and nachos, sandwiches and salads - my mouth waters just recalling the sensational experience of eating. Aaaah. Aaaaaaah.
And in the middle of this orgasmic experience thinking of the plethora of food possibilities on God's green Earth, I realize that I am in the village of Amalapuram, on the banks of the river Godavari, eating rice and pulkhas everyday since nothing else is vegetarian.
I've begun to appreciate aspects of life outside of the American sitcom dream.
What is the American dream? It is your imagination of how adult life would be, based on stuff you downloaded from LAN and watched hours on end in college. (I am talking about sitcoms - Friends, How I met your mother, Two and a half men, Seinfeld..)
Here's the dream: You work for a couple of hours a day (making jingles or telling jokes) and you spend the rest of your time with friends and food and sex. Alright, at some (drunk) point in life, when I was more honest than usual, I realized that there was no hope for the third. If the sex people were having world over could be quantified and represented by the space in my 1 TB hard disc, I didn't even have enough bits to make character. So I shrugged it off and fitted the dream to the Indian context. No character, no sex. Food and friends were perfection. I had my hard disc to make up for the rest.
Sometime this year, I started working. I was ready to experience life as rich as Charlie's or as fun-filled as Phoebe's. Food and Friends - boy, was I going to have plenty of them.
The thing about being friends with your colleagues is that it is not possible. Yeah, you've found people who don't earn more than you or less than you. That way, you're neither jealous nor guilty. But you never know what could happen if you say something insensitive or inappropriate or just outright stupid. And knowing me, it's almost certain I will. It's not college where they'd just do you a favour and stop talking to you. Here, you can get fired. Which means switching from cribbing about time and money in my office to cribbing about money and time on the road (where I'd rather be than at home).
I have begun to adore food. Sometimes, I think that's what I live for. After all, it is hard-earned and there are different kinds of exciting food in the world. There's pizzas and pastas, noodles and nachos, sandwiches and salads - my mouth waters just recalling the sensational experience of eating. Aaaah. Aaaaaaah.
And in the middle of this orgasmic experience thinking of the plethora of food possibilities on God's green Earth, I realize that I am in the village of Amalapuram, on the banks of the river Godavari, eating rice and pulkhas everyday since nothing else is vegetarian.
I've begun to appreciate aspects of life outside of the American sitcom dream.
Friday, August 12, 2011
9 words I like
Serendipity
Give life the opportunity to surprise you - always.
Subtle
Not noticeable, yet very much there.
Boisterous
Is it onomatopoeic if you say it loud enough?
Indignant
Seems like the perfect emotion for all times - especially in a democracy.
Embezzle
It could be the most royal word in the world for petty thievery.
Eccentric
I'd prefer being called this than that*.
Unparalleled
Matching endlessly
Leverage
The feeling of the ball, however small or trivial, being in your court.
Lastly,
Spouse - is the most progressive word I know, reminding me that we're moving to better times.
You can refer to your life partner - sex no bar.
My list ends here because I'm inspired enough to already be working on another post (to make up for the lost year)
*That, by definition, is not this.
Give life the opportunity to surprise you - always.
Subtle
Not noticeable, yet very much there.
Boisterous
Is it onomatopoeic if you say it loud enough?
Indignant
Seems like the perfect emotion for all times - especially in a democracy.
Embezzle
It could be the most royal word in the world for petty thievery.
Eccentric
I'd prefer being called this than that*.
Unparalleled
Matching endlessly
Leverage
The feeling of the ball, however small or trivial, being in your court.
Lastly,
Spouse - is the most progressive word I know, reminding me that we're moving to better times.
You can refer to your life partner - sex no bar.
My list ends here because I'm inspired enough to already be working on another post (to make up for the lost year)
*That, by definition, is not this.
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