I am a Dirty Guy

You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. But now computer has acquired the same personality. And Windows was telling me that. I mean..WTF man!



OMG!! It has A.I.!!! It found out about the porn on my hard disk!! Anti-Porn Windows XP has arrived!!

Fill in the blank

I have been struggling for quite a while as to what to write about whereas my worse half has been churning it out by the dozens. It becomes difficult to write at times. Either you find nothing to write about, or there is too much to write about. My dilemma is uneek. I have a case of both issues. I have nothing to write about yet there is so much to tell. Every time I decide something to write, by the time I actually start to write, there is nothing to write. It's different from the writer's block that I tend to have at times.

Now this is what I am talking about. By the time I start writing this second para...nada! The entire thought process is broken! Damn I need some inspiration!!

Letting Go...

How do you let go of someone you have known for years? How do you say goodbye? How do you stop yourself from thinking of calling them and then realize you can't, not anymore? How do you stop the pain? How do you forget?

My grandfather died 4 years ago. My paternal grandfather. My only grandfather. We weren’t all that close - by which I mean that I didn’t make him kiss my boo-boo to make it all better and I didn’t ever ask him for money to buy toffees and neither did I ever rant and rave to him about how my parents never understood me. But I spent a considerable amount of time competing with him. You see, he lived in fast forward motion. And by that I mean he ate, talked and walked very, very fast. So whenever we visited my grandparents or vice versa, I would spend all my free time trying to finish my meals before he did or talk as fast he did or try and outrun him as he walked. He always laughed at me because I was the only one in the family who tried to beat him at everything – the others couldn’t be bothered with such childish antics.

He was a short man, short and thin. Not an ounce of fat on him. If you saw him for the first time what would register would be a large forehead, his beetle black eyes, a nose that curved exactly like an eagle’s beak, straight thin lips and a nicely rounded chin. Although his straight white hair never really grew beyond his collar, he went for a haircut religiously every fortnight. A place for everything and everything in its place – was his motto. It has been passed on only to my father, sadly, of all his children and so on to me and thankfully, I rarely ever lose anything.

I troubled him a lot. He’d be praying quietly early in the morning and I’d sneak into the room and rub the holy vermillion mark off of his forehead (I’d get yelled at by my father, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it over and over again.) And whenever he settled down for his afternoon nap I’d whisk out my keyboard and play on it, as if possessed. In the evening he would want to teach me a devotional song or something and I would squirm out of his grasp to go and play with my friends / cousins. But right after that and just before dark, all of us would go for a walk – my grandfather and I leading the pack. We hardly talked, mainly because I was huffing and puffing along while he walked at his usual 1000 m/min. He always walked to wherever he wanted to go, unless it was from one city to another. Not that he shunned public transport systems or that he loved walking so much, it was just a habit of his.

He died peacefully, without any pain, at the age of 88. He had been married to my grandmother for 75 years. They had never been apart in all those years.

He didn’t ever lose his temper – not with me, not with anyone. He was witty but simple and just plain nice. He was the one who opened and maintained a bank account in my name where he deposited all the money I’d get from my relatives on special occasions. And after he died, I dreamt about him often, I still do. And in all of them he seems unhappy, disturbed and almost childishly upset. I stopped telling my family about this when they started to look at me strangely and with a little too much sympathy.

I am trying to remember more about him so I can hold on to those memories. I don’t want to let go. I won’t let go.

Is it too late...?

To M and N for the time in 1992, when I refused to play with you brothers even though you both had set up a tent just for me and asked me really nicely too. I was rude and mean.

To H, when I hated you for betraying me way back in 1994 after you said we were best friends. I should have cursed you.

To late Mrs. V. , you were only being fair when you cut marks off of my math test when I didn't bring my notebook in 1997. I didn't think so then and I wish I could have spoken to you about it before you passed away in 1999.

To A, A and A - you girls were responsible for ensuring that I made no friends in the school. You didn't know me, and you still don't. And if you aren't already dead, you soon will be.

To C, I judged you in 2001 before I ever got to know you and now that I am getting to, I realize you were going through a lot back then. So although, most of the times, I want to strangle you, I can now see the funny bit in you.

To S, for having fought with you a week ago. You were the closest thing I ever had to a best friend and you are the only girl I admire and respect more than I do myself. Please talk to me again!

To Psycho, I never should have met you.


I am sorry.

The Metal People

\m/
Yes. I am a metal head. I listen to every "grotesque" band you so very detest. I revel in the music that can make you spill your guts. Yes. I am a metal head.

But let me point out, I am not the metal head you will picture me as - tattooed, high, pierced, bad ass. Those metal heads you see are just one of us. My initiation into the heavier from of music was quite early. When kids in my class were still listening to Gupt, I had was listening to my first alternative rock band - Limp Bizkit 3 Dollar Bill.

The differentiation between the various heavy genres at times is very vague. Though alternative rock (NuRock) is totally different from alternative metal. Goth, melo, death, core, doom, technical, progressive, funk, etc etc; metal has lots of sub genres.

But basically the people listening to them are the same, though some may prefer one sub genre over others.

So, here is my classification:

1. The Moshers
These are the "niggers". Those rowdy fucktards who are here to make an impression by emulating the retards from Ursa Minor.
If you don't have a clue what mosher/moshing is about, check here and here.
These are the most hated, yet most entertaining of the lot. Sometimes when the on stage action is lacking, these are the dudes who provide the comic relief. It's amusing to see them piss their own pants and brag about it. Give it up for, Moshers!

2. Headbangers
These were born with a purpose. To bang their heads. That's it. No complications. Have music, will bang head. Usually they come with semi long and long hair, which are usually tied at the beginning of a concert. But at some point during the duration of the musical exercise (this point varies for each person), in logo pe mata aa jati hai. They would, all of a sudden, release the rubber band, and pow. Off they go. Some lazy ass would remain at their places. But the ardent headbangers will actually walk up to the speakers and bang in front of it. As if the speakers will really appreciate it. But please note, these are the hardcore fans. Say anything demeaning about metal, and they will be on you like shit on Velcro, "Shut the fuck up you bitch! No one says that about Shavo!". Touche.

3. Connoisseur
This is the band to which I belong. We are subtle in our expression for our love for metal. We can be spotted standing right behind the moshers, with one arm crossed and the other on the chin, moving our head slightly with the music. Occasionally, some of us might choose to head bang as well. We are the biggest critics as well. "Dude, the drummers sucks so much, even I could do a better job", "Where the fuck did they find this retarded vocalist", "Did you hear the riffs on that one?? SUCKED", "And I was thinking Bhayanak Maut was to play tonight, these bands suck", etc etc. One more interesting point is here, this lot also has the drifters. People, who usually listen to pop music (Britney, Enrique et al), but end up at a rock/metal concert (somehow many think it's cool), and act as if they have a Ph.D. in death (I know a few who actually read wikipedia before going to a concert). But anyways, rock on brothers and their sisters! \m/

4. Wankers
These are those bunch of ass wipes who are just to check the metal chicks out (whatever few are there). These are easy to spot. Their musical gyroscope has orientation problems which hampers them in locating the stage. They end up with their back towards the stage, facing the crowd. Also, some of them are dressed in club wear, so they end up looking like gays in that crowd. Good amusing lot though.

There are several other minority groups (like the band groupies, those who want to become groupies, the ex-groupies, the people who had nothing else to do, etc.). But these are the four major IMHO. If you don't concur, go back to listening to Britney.