Funny old story

old stories are great, and when told by old friends, there can be nothing better.
so i met this old dude from college
a nut case if ever there was one
he ended up in the ISB,
which shocks me to no small extent - what on earth were they thinking!
anyway, he marries this girl from the ISB, an investment banker married to a nut
ok, to do justice, he is no longer a complete nut, but you could say half baked one :)
and so we talk
and he says he s married to Sharu
hmm!!
well
so i tell him u know my gf.sory ex is called that
and well break up story, and well..patch up dude
you look cute and great together
are you mad
go to delhi
go go
why does everyone tell me this
why do i end up teling!

anyway back to the story he was tellin
on the day Bain and co was in campus, he decides was the day the batch should dress up in superman costume - which he made for his section, so he has people dress in blue t's, b slacks and red undies .. OVER the trousers. so bain comes and all they see is a bunch of supermadmen
and bain does the superman trick of flying away .. he he
shit happens

Nowhere for ever

you say we were on a road to nowhere
but i said nowhere was a place
where there was no one but you
so we walked down the road,
and you shouted nowhere nowhere

i said this was perhaps not the place
that nowhere couldnt be a destination
because it was the end
so we walked on, pushing nowhere down we didnt know where
and you shouted nowhere nowhere

i turned around to look
and you we there no more
i was nowhere and there no was no one, not you
so i shouted out, to a silhouette i could just see
walking on, oh what did i see

still walking, that silhoutte turns around and says
i told you so, i told you so
then walk a new road to a new nowhere
walking with a new novelty
indeed nowhere is the destination

So it was a musty huge library that did it this time. no alcohol, no music, no overlooking waiters. just racks of dusty books and fading lights. there was a comfortable reading sofa though. so it took off where the last one stopped. there was no explanation, no stories.
she put it perfectly, it is a search for comfort more than attraction.
but there is the difference you see, attraction has its own attraction.
"when i am with you, i am in a different world" she said, different from the world we are running away from, the world we'd rather be in, the world we should ideally be conquering.

The begining of the end

Oh, it is the 20th already. Life is surprising. I am depressed. My heart has been beating like an overworked public bus engine. I was lying down and sleep would just not come. Food I don’t feel interest for, conversation I don’t feel the need to make. I am what I am, distant and cold. I cannot relate to the world that I see. I want to die. I am deep and reserved. The smile that I smile is artificial. I do not have a reason to be sad, neither do I feel happy. Hurt exist in me. Reading, music and movies, friend, drinks, parties, smoking all seem vain. This small room I am in is claustrophobic. The world outside is intimidating. I am a boy in a mans world, a man in a boys body. Love that I scorned, scorns me back now. I don’t need to exist, the world wouldn’t know my passing. I don’t exist. I could be anywhere now, now is all that matters. I don’t want to be anywhere. Not here, not there. Time strolls by, the only absolute, he acknowledges me, and I nod back to him. March on, I remain. I don’t exist.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I feel that my friends are not my friends anymore and I feel the same way - abandoned and alone. We have to choose between cruel laughter and calm acceptance or a possible liebitzian optimism.

a self obsessed, boring, depressed, slightly maniacal, guy, not really single, lacking exercise, looks ok, smokes, drinks, no drugs, philosophical, twisted, yet to cut off one of my ears.

The amount of time it took for the second entry,..perhaps self professed love for writing is just a fantasy, for when you finally get down to the front of the screen, gotten rid of gtalk which has already swerved your thought pattern from what you really wanted to write, they just seem to vanish - thoughts i.e. then when you actually write whatever crap u do, save it and google presents you the page in all its glory you run to press the delete button because it all sounds so darn fake.
a good writer, cant say author, should be good with coming up with titles and names right? then i must be a terrible one, cause i bad with names. for instance i was out with frinds all day yesterday having a great time, and this girl who was in the same qualis you know blah blah, and the end of it all, at 1AMish we say 'cya' and after the bye i cant remember her name for the life of me..she says bye whoever, and i can only smile..
and see, this blog is called nonsense's boyfriend, what a wierd name, but i cant come up with another one.it should not be called this.
i hope my better half is better with names for otherwise d kids will be nameless, or i shall call them junior.. what about prince.. king. great names for malayalee kids anyway.
another problem with writing is, the temptation to go on and on, not only do i realise that it becomes boring, is a sign of self obsession and boredom, i also have to mention that writing more progressively increases the temptation to do 'Cntr+A' and then 'del', in other words to junk whatever was written. thoughts are like that, they better remain in the head, it is always, Believe me, ALWAYS a bad idea to put thoughts into words. now i need to go turn off the quirky washing machine before it turns my shirts and underwears into the cotton pulp out of which they were made. yeah! i am washing clothers at 7 in the morning on a sunday, after going to sleep at 4..