Hmmm... frivilous and interesting

Oyster Seeker sent me a questionnaire to upload on his blog. it was a good peek into my own mind for a change.

I Love –Abundance

I Hate – Sadness, Poverty

I Crave for – Beauty

Love is – Everything

Beauty is– Pleasant, elegant, gracious

Men – are means to an end

Women- are stupid

Perfect Holiday - Beach, Pool, Casino

Walking in the rain – Divinity

Virginity - Half -n- inch of skin

Simplicity - is like Solitaires

Fidelity - is Overrated

Beer – is for Chilling

Make up is - Essential, Minimal

Live-in relationships are– like a Foreword to a story

Romance is - Bliss, it's the Zing that tingles and lingers.

Marriage – should be a profitable barter

Sex - is the purest pleasure principle

Touch - reveals the truth

Success/Riches - Success will bring riches

What is the sexiest single article of clothing a woman can wear - Lingerie, may be a Saree

If it is not in here, it can not be found out there.

Love is a funny emotion. It will ensure you hang-on to the last thread of nothingness, till nothingness swallows you. It will disappear in fragments, just as it made it's presence in a fraction. We carry love with us, yet we rush into many doors to find it there and search for a spark, a hint, a sign from the Fates.

K is no different, she too at times falls for the 'if and then', falls for the 'guessing game'. Sometimes, she too is a desperate single woman, looking for a love that is in-sync with her love. Thanks to the many a frog princes in her life; she has outrun the tale, and finally rests with the love within; only to find that it is more satisfying than the fretting peace in the arms of a man of no consequence.

Thank you Mushy, Black Pearl, Pudgy Fingers, the Monk with beads and Oyster Seeker; you all have help me find my love in unmentionable and unacknowledged ways.

Ps.  They are the most important people in my life, not necessarily the people I dated. Stop getting too autobiographical!  

Patternicity

Patternicty is a Noun. It is also a neurological disease where the 'sufferer' finds patterns in meaningful and meaninglessness images/situations/ life. Causing Type-1 and Type-2 errors.

When this word concerns me and my blog, you already know what this writer's problem is. However, with the 'right' levels of Dopamine, I think, the Mr. Right, The perfect Career option (apart for writing reports and kissing frogs) and (finally taking pity on my over worked brain and) finish writing my book will work out.

Till then, I think, I will stick to lowering my type-1 error patterns.      

Ps. For everyone who has not read or heard of Micheal Shermer, this post maybe a little out of context.

Words of Caution

[getting to research and write this one, has been a horror, and the most honest experience.]

Style Icon: It does not matter whom you marry; at the end of the day, you will have to deal with a lot of trauma.

Wise Capitalist: Love is a simple equalization of have and have not. You must 'have' what you did not before you get emotional about the guy. ('Have' is a positive term'.)

K: If the man, who claims to love you in return for your love, does not let you enter his life, his work space, his friend space or his family space. He's just not that into you.

Dream Catcher: You'd think men fake relationships, and you'd be right. However, women too sail through the relationships, till they find a better cruise to board.

Drama King: 'She says there is nothing not like-able in you. Yet there is another man, whom I can not trust, but for that very reason, I must have him.'
Women must have what they can change. Men must have what would provide them a change.

Child Mom: Most Women spend their lives trying to figure out what their 'not-yet-called' date/ 'working late' lover, 'out of town on a conference' husband is thinking, eating, wearing. The man usually does not think of her till they meet. And when he does, his answer to how all the above was, is usually - 'hmmm, busy, okay, alright, exhausting, informative.' Mostly, you wanting to know about his life (being inquisitive) is your fault.

Mini Me: 1) Men do not have a concept of a female best friend. They either want to do you, or you do not qualify as a woman for them.
 2) The worse part is when you don't know your place on the 'couple's level of togetherness'. Are you a friend with benefits, a girlfriend, a mistress, or the to-be wife; he will let you linger, and you will search for names to fit your relationship into.

Pudgy Fingers: Never give a man the benefit of Silence, Forgetting, or Being Busy. We are never too busy to hook up, call or have sex with a girl. And mind you, we are very vocal; remember, the guy did woo you into dating him, into his bed...  or worse, into your bed (he's smart enough to not invite you over).

They are our means of escape, like we'd wait till you blow your tin off, then play the calm Perseus all set to slay the freaky Medusa that you have now become. If we wanted a woman for 'real', we'd be whoever she wanted us to be. For God sakes, we'd had wars over our romantic interests! 

Androgene: Really, it's easy to make a woman feel that every break-up is her fault. Guys are experts in that game. In addition, we have amazing levels of patience.We'd pester, cajole, domesticate you into caring for our needs viz; food, shopping, laundry... (Biologically, it is easier to domesticate female animals than male animals.) and then call you a nag. It's fun you know sometimes, to just play it out and see how most women react the exact way! No offenses though, just that you should get smarter, K.

I think, now I AM

Of Love Stories...

There are many loves that we can not explain,
and many lovers that we can no longer acknowledge.
And the path of silent respect is the only way to face them.

Happy Birthday, Black Pearl.

it takes....

a woman to teach a man that sex is not an solution to an argument.
a man to teach a woman that sex is not a means to cast a favour.

Finally, My Drops Of Madness Have Arrived.

D city waits in blind hope. Then a tremor is felt within the sky’s belly.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven carbon balloons float against the yellow blue. Frowns vaporize; yearning eyes stare for a crack in dull heat. With rapid urgency hollow worms slither through the city. Hungry hearts, lazing incompetently in the heat, surge for a fill. Just then, the breeze quickens for a few seconds. A weak shower of borrowed water trickles into the gashes of bold concrete. Countless nostrils breathe in deep, the hushed fragrance of uncemented earth, of a pious Lucifer. Saturday night bathes Bombay for the Sunday mass. Neptune too, visits the city with a schedule convenient for it's residents.

Sunday noon rests the sun and as the BMC taps scrunch out drops of dirty water, the gods take charge. K just hopes that they are here to stay for a more than a few months, in the least.

The Journalist

It was said that only the brave could chronicle battles.
To not be biased needed more courage than the sword could offer.

There are brave men/women no more; only the petrified and the sycophants.

PS.

Dear Flabbergasted,

Hope you are happy to be responded to over my blog. Thank you, for your consistent praise and criticism. Now to answer your questions: 

~ I voluntarily choose not to activate my 'Comments' feature, because I do not wish to publicize what anyone thinks about my blog. 
~ All K’s are not the author.
~ Read the little intro on the right hand side of Mixed Bag’s Dashboard. That is the identity of the Blog.
~ Yes, some of the posts are anecdotes; some are a complete “lie”.
~ No, I do not write like this professionally.
~ I am unsure if my mother reads my blog or even cares about it.
~ The names are my way of describing the core of the people I write about. It is a fairly common method used by many bloggers.
~  I do read other blogs. I follow none.
~And, No, I am not available.

K and the Myth of Absolute Freedom

It is like the good/evil myth, the ‘quick rich’ myth, the ‘hot, rich, dashing lover’ myth. Whether it is our sense of being, our social living or our expression – we never exercise absolute freedom. Be it making a movie or writing a book or painting a picture, we are always doing it for an audience, we are always eliminating the criticism triggers, we are careful to avoid taking names, boasting fame, claiming blames. 

It is impossible to do something for the very act of it (Art for art’s sake).

Just as it is tiresome and dishonest to write for an audience, be politically correct, and contort things (old school satire) to not be spotted by the very people who would read it. We are entrapped within our definitions. 

K is such a victim. The professional space is suffocating her and now the blog has its set of readers writing back with references that would lead to questions. No matter how much she claims her inch of space of the WWW, she still is not free to paint that inch at whim.

Luckily, she is more than a letter in the alphabet, and as arbid as three sticks together called ‘K’.

Voyeurism, Men & LSD

A lot of us loved Love Sex Aur Dhoka. A part of me did too; however, a part of me was disgusted, stirred and shocked beyond my fragile competence.

To paint a picture: I saw this movie at the behest of Oyster Seeker. I was with one of the safest, coolest dudes I know. But I was still insecure, by the midst of the second story (SEX). Usually all chatty and funny, I had my hands and feet tightly crossed; as if I was holding liters of urine or grabbing tight my sense of self.

The only question reeling in my head was ‘how could someone do such a thing?’ The very next thought was that ‘only a man could do such a thing’. My general opinion of men is very low, women is even lower. Men disgust me; they are filthy and juvenile – in their minds, their bodies, their languages, their attitudes, their habits… the term Lech was invented for their forever hungry eyes. What scares me the most is their ability to turn something beautiful into something so disgusting, that it’d stay in your system and give you shivers. LSD gave me shivers. I ached for some sanity, and Oyster Seeker’s ‘it’s just a film, k’ did not help. For him, I was overreacting, I was not being sporty, I was being a pain in the wrong place by condemning his penile species.

But I do hate men. Anyway, there is very little about them to like.

Fortnight later, {when I got over the film; and my nightmares of all the men in my life doing horrifying things to my image had finally stopped,} I consciously pondered on what this three part film was all about.

I concluded that it was about a person within that we seemed to entertain once in a while. Like Oyster Seeker’s indulgent ‘shopaholic’, Chameleon’s ‘sleaze ball’, Loud mouth’s ‘cruel tyrant’… We all have a liar, a cheat, a thief, a slave and a voyeur within us. Just as we have a savior, a friend, a shoulder, and a saint within us. Problem is that the voyeur feeds on titillation, and our minds are great at creating carrots for donkeys. The media lusts over violence, patriotic movies vicariously make you dream of bombing your neighboring country. Inventors make you yearn to pick up that ‘up-on-the-market-only-for- you-piece’; you ogle and ogle at the mannequins on the window sill or sneak a peek at the latest gadget on the net.

However Sexual titillation is everyone’s all time favorite. Be it imagining a bikini clad woman in a burqua or guessing some passer-by’s bra size or watching porn or someone’s intimate act of love making/kissing.

My problem is that we never say ‘no’ to this titillation, we never refuse to have the dirt of nude pictures, clips or genital jokes. My bigger problem is that (as men are the fore runners of this filth) I am yet to find a man who takes offence to all or any of the above in the privacy of this back slapping, bluetoothed friend circle.

K’s a Weirdo

I know, you know that crystal clear. However, I thought I was weird when I could not type on any other Laptop/computer what I’d mentally jotted. I’m too attached to my loving laptop and have therefore by some quirky method blocked my mind from expressing (even wording) anything on another gadget or paper.