In lurv again?
Anyway, now that I've time as I've just sent the oped page to Bombay and released the other issue one. I can sit down and write again. And if I don't have people yelling for me from here and around, it definitely feels better. I can just tell you that I just bumped into this hot-chick photographer that's newly joint city (and the one which the Mad Scientist once told me about). Of course, I wasn't there when she had joint, cause I was on my friggin' exam leave. But anyway, she's a real swell to look at.
The sad bit is that ever since the Pirate was pirated, I don't feel I have a darn good reason to go to city cause things aren't awfully nice out there. Don't have that many friends as well, the two I know quite well have made it a point to show off how hard they've started working and I feel out of place. My period was swell there of course, two fuckin years of life. It surely is a long time.
So anyway just crossed her for the thrid time in my life, and she narrows her eyes and I can see my bloody heart making its way through my throat and like a pinball falling back in my stomach and settling where it dramatically belongs after that.
Sometimes and just sometimes, its a bitch to have that kind of feeling. Especially, when you don't know the chick and you know its damn corny to talk about it expressively. You know what I mean right?
Like how the fuck would Holden Caulfield say to this. Damn.
Been out of love for a while, which means not-so-good. The fuck up about this is that you feel you require it when you do but then you don't need it that much. Being a male, I know we're accused of thinking from our willies. But, hey, not everyone does. Its understood when you take the example of Mad Yanker, whose the most bizarre dude I've ever met. He randomly walks up to women in office and talks about his habit of molesting women, and drugs and porn and filth. Does he do it for kicks or is he just insane? But sometimes he talks some sense, but very rarely. Dunno.
But then life fits into place if the chick smiles, probably a coffee at our darn office cafe (which stinks) and at the most an evening at Turquoise Cottage. Lord knows, whether things ever take off better than that (you know what I mean.) TC's the fuckin same, listening to the same tracks over and over again.
But seriously the chick is the hottest ever planted there, hope to strike a conversation soon. Will try, I swear. The thing is one doesn't see her so often. Life's surely strange.
Anyway, now that I've time as I've just sent the oped page to Bombay and released the other issue one. I can sit down and write again. And if I don't have people yelling for me from here and around, it definitely feels better. I can just tell you that I just bumped into this hot-chick photographer that's newly joint city (and the one which the Mad Scientist once told me about). Of course, I wasn't there when she had joint, cause I was on my friggin' exam leave. But anyway, she's a real swell to look at.
The sad bit is that ever since the Pirate was pirated, I don't feel I have a darn good reason to go to city cause things aren't awfully nice out there. Don't have that many friends as well, the two I know quite well have made it a point to show off how hard they've started working and I feel out of place. My period was swell there of course, two fuckin years of life. It surely is a long time.
So anyway just crossed her for the thrid time in my life, and she narrows her eyes and I can see my bloody heart making its way through my throat and like a pinball falling back in my stomach and settling where it dramatically belongs after that.
Sometimes and just sometimes, its a bitch to have that kind of feeling. Especially, when you don't know the chick and you know its damn corny to talk about it expressively. You know what I mean right?
Like how the fuck would Holden Caulfield say to this. Damn.
Been out of love for a while, which means not-so-good. The fuck up about this is that you feel you require it when you do but then you don't need it that much. Being a male, I know we're accused of thinking from our willies. But, hey, not everyone does. Its understood when you take the example of Mad Yanker, whose the most bizarre dude I've ever met. He randomly walks up to women in office and talks about his habit of molesting women, and drugs and porn and filth. Does he do it for kicks or is he just insane? But sometimes he talks some sense, but very rarely. Dunno.
But then life fits into place if the chick smiles, probably a coffee at our darn office cafe (which stinks) and at the most an evening at Turquoise Cottage. Lord knows, whether things ever take off better than that (you know what I mean.) TC's the fuckin same, listening to the same tracks over and over again.
But seriously the chick is the hottest ever planted there, hope to strike a conversation soon. Will try, I swear. The thing is one doesn't see her so often. Life's surely strange.
posted by jairaj at Friday, August 11, 2006
2 Comments:
dude.. walk up, say hello, and ask her for a drink..
hahaha...thanks man...!!!
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