Yesterday night when I was being ridden by this two wheeler, metal framed, brake-bell clad cycle, I had to stop for some sort of celestial interrogation. Never heard of such a term? Well, it was the Moon, he/she needed some questions answered by me. I just stared at it (no gender conflicts) and it stared back with such clamness and we started conversing. And after some time, I set again on my routine night cycling. Wondering what we talked about? well, even I don't have an answer for that. But Iam sure we did speak. Enough of this crazy stuff. Hey know what I made a very good inference. "Virgins ride cycles". "the 40 year old virgin" protagonist did. I know that was rubbish. But hey, that is why am here. Am here to let out what pops up in my weird head space. You know sometimes you should just let go. I mean let it all out. This is how I do it. I don't have any idea what iam writing or going to write. But all I know is that I gotta write. I gotta feel lighter. I got so light one day that I started to rise in my plastic moulded yellow chair. I rose and rose and ended up on thorns. Where else is a rose supposed to land? that was a blunderous PJ. I don;t hear your laughter, so I know it didn't click. Oh seems like its time to go. go and let it all go. going........................gone..................still gone...

Here Iam, this is me.....hmmm....that was not what I meant to say.....those are Bryan's words...Bryan who? Bryan Adams.....the living legend with the guitar and a passionate voicebox.Screeeeech.....Here Iam sitting in this room.All alone.No cologne.Stop you moron.Oh comeon. Iam so sorry. I can't help my rhyme sensing and linking system. It takes charge wherever it finds any hint of senseless scope. Now if you are keen on knowing who designed such a creative device, well you are looking at his typed words.So I was saying, Here Iam. sitting all alone in this room. There I see a broom. I was listening to Dhoom.There..vishal goes Vrooom.Have you played Doom?Sorry...sorry...you know it wasn't me. Well....there have been times when I just sit blank and stare into nowhere. You click me and then you will know what "dumb" looks like. Over the past few days I've been having weird dreams. Dreams about peple whom I hate the most. But strangely what I remember of my dream is that we met like friends and discussed our lives.Strange.There seems to be no end to these strange happenings.Maybe dream is a smudge-stick that dissolves the distinction between the friend and the foe. Maybe dreams show me what Jim Carrey portrayed "Hank" in Me, Myself and Irene. "Here Iam..

"If you cross the line, your nuts are mine"....says Starsky. Iam sure you don't wish to learn more about him. Yeah..you thought right, he indeed is a nutty character. So yesterdy night I had this weird collage of dreams roaming around in my idleness-hater brain. Even though I don't remember much from that episode, all I remember is that my "How do I feel?" indicator showed red. So what could my dreams probably be?..I'd rather use the word possibly.....probably is a nightmarish word which reminds me of the days when I used to go on dates with probability and calculus. Well, I surely don't wish to drag you into these numeral barbwires. Winter has set in and I feel numb. Not the Linkin Park kind of numb, but more on the biological side. Everytime I set to write for this unread blog, I wonder what am I going to write? I look outside my window and I see the spooky tree, that scares the droppings out of me. Although in day light it looks saintly. I look everywhere for clues, or hints...well I can't get my brains to churn ideas early in the morning you see...so finally, I do the best I do. I look in the mirror for sometime and comeback, sit on my seat and just go. Just let my finger tips and nerve endings do the talking and thinking. And after ten minutes or near about typing extravaganza, I end up with this...my state of mind at this given moment.

You must be wondering why the hell does this fella keep writing witty stuff even when no one ever bothers to drop by and take a read through. I would like to take this humble opportunity to lend my hearty thanks to my parents, my friends, my director, my co stars, and all the people who believed in me and my talent.OOPS!! Did I sound like a "Filmfare award won" actor with a pre written thanks speech. Hey I was just wondering if we were to search all the actors andactresses at the filmfare award ceremony, we would find thank you notes with almost everyone. We could compile all of em into a book called "The would havebeen thank yous" Well so where were we? P lease do not mind me getting lost somewhere in between. Hmmm...now what could be the reason behind me typing away to boredom? there could be so many when I think of em.
Warning: The matter henceforth could get a fraction serious - people with weak hearts and weaker sense please do not read ahead.
I could be doing this just because I have to keep talking and when I find no one around I just go tapping on my keyboard. Or maybe just to feel a part of a huge family of intelligent bloggers. On second thoughts I could be contributing to the wide spread diction of blunders. Wait a minute. iam sure you are wondering where the hell is the aforewarned seriousness? well, even if i try to I cant get serious at least not when Iam a pressure cooked soul holder. Moreover, why do people get serious? Hello...what the hell could seriousness be anyways? I mean when do you say a person is serious? is it when he doesnt smile or laugh and speak blunders and light statements?
I refrain from being serious. rather seriousness refrains from being me. or whatever that meant.

How do you say "Oliver went to the market and bought a case of buffaloes"? Dont bother to ask me who Oliver is. Well all I can say about him...hey mind you....please chuck out the instant tinge of thought about me being gay....so Oliver....yeah Oliver is my spontaneous momentary character to play protagonist in my blunder lines. And now about the market, case and buffaloes...well if Guy Ritchie could accomodate Lock, stocks and two smoking barrels, I very well could at least manage a market, case and some buffaloes...make it four per say. Yet again I am digging my blunder box for some sensible lines. Talking about sense, I remember a famous line which goes "Dont you have any sensitivity?"...yes...after you have had a bit of a laughter (now you cant deny laughing...I just heard you...trust me I have watched all Bond movies and I know the tricks in the book "How to tell when one laughs?")...you can reap the pleasure of knowing that the aforesaid line fell out of one of the tobacco chewing brown tinted denture box from my college. Watching squirrels moving swift and running here and there all the time reminds me of a football refree...and say what....both of them wear stripes....agree or disagree?
I guess I have boasted enough of my smart grey matter factory. Hey talking about the grey matter. Does that imply brits are intelligent? they got greys, everywhere on the walls, on the streets, on their clothes and of course on their heads.....did I miss something? anyways....now that we have reached the land of the queen...I got a brilliantly enchanting idea that will sweep you off your feet had I been a sweeper sweeping the floor where your legs are rooted...Id say...Oliver is British...a stiff upper lip....so if any of you are planning to put up a revolution against the Brits maybe for the reason that they wear too much of greys, you have to stiffen your lower lip. Iam a believer in symmetry.If I continue giving you my lines you will surely end up in a cemetary. symmetry and cemetary...wow...william Iam coming. Now who the hell is william? No No...you dont want me start all over again do you?