Sirocco

67 dead on the samjhauta express. sorry, on the what express? oh, the irony. who's surprised? are you surprised? i'm not. there are a huge number of powerful people who stand to lose a great deal if peace breaks out on the subcontinent. this shit is going to continue, you can bet on it. start donating blood now. what do you do with these 'militants'? the kashmir movement did definitely start with indigenous kashimiri involvement, even though it was largely a pakistani instigation and with pakistani funding. but today, it's little more than an excuse to keep temperatures high between india and pakistan. and provide political leverage to a dipshit nation who cannot hope to compete with us on anything. it's actually pretty standard operating procedure for these guys. grant us concessions or terrorism will only shoot up. give us what we want or face the consequences. oh it won't be us doing the consequencing, it'll be the deprived and disaffected native po

what a nice, cloudy day. and there's no work, because the electricity's out at office. so. pleasantly cloudy day, no work, no office, and here i am in front of the computer. it must mean something. that i don't have much of a life, i expect. and on top of everything else, i've got a slightly guilty feeling. i should be doing something, dammit. not sitting around farting on blogspot. well i suppose it's either that or sit around fiddling with my dangly bits. which i intend on doing of course, but it's always better when there's a feeling of accomplishment. so, this blog. laa lala laa... ok, i can't hit enter after every few syllables, that's cheating. i wonder why there's so much of a hoo haa about giving yourself what is in essence, a therapeutic massage. admittedly, it's a very focused one, but in the end, you're just doing what you're programmed to do. i mean, i do it inside my head often enough. everybody does. and certainly a

the debate about homosexuality's morality will, i think, continue unceasingly. so i'm going to ask that anyone reading this set aside their personal moralistic/religious/whatever attitude - whichever side of the debate you're on. assume i'm thinking aloud, and just eavesdrop. i'm assuming here that you wouldn't be so rude as to interrupt someone you're eavesdropping on, of course. the whole thought process started when i wondered how it feels to be gay. no wait, that's not exactly it, because if you're gay you wouldn't feel it, much the way that i don't feel heterosexual sitting here at the computer. i just am, and that's all there is to it. so how do gay people... ok, it's like this. for me, being hetero at the most primal level means i'm... i'm the man . i'm the giver - i pour myself in to initiate, i pour myself in to complete. i'm being really, REALLY simplistic here because i'm just trying to describe what i

it's nice outside my window. there's a cool breeze and a warm sun. not the kind of vicious bastard that hits you over the head with a hot, hot hammer; just the right amount of warmth to cause a little dampness on your back and neck and under your arms. i can see the sun sparkling off the sea, between the two buildings and the palm tree that stand between us. the sea is, i think, the closest metaphor we have for the universe as a whole, and our place in it. little fish and big sharks and sea urchins and octopi living and eating and spawning and dying. the absolute barbaric perverseness that is the struggle to survive, to propagate the species. and barely a ripple on the surface of the universe. i mean, the sea. the occasional marlin breaks the surface, whales and dolphins breach in flagrant displays of enlightenment, of knowledge of a world outside the infinite blue. i wish i had gills. i wish i could just slip into this universe, latch on to a passing manta and cruise the depth

As usual when faced with a blank screen, i do what any good creative person would do; i procrastinate. i open another browser window and head to wikipedia. i scratch my crotch. it's enjoyable. i scratch some more. a couple of minutes later i realise i'm not just scratching anymore. i stop, and come back to the screen. it's a challenge, the blankness. it's saying fuck you, you couldn't fill this if you needed to. well fuck that shit, i've got a lot to say. have you ever walked down the road and blinked and then realised you've suddenly recieved a whole new perspective on things? no? me neither. shit doesn't happen that easily around here. me i've got to be hit in the face, kicked in the nuts and slammed against a wall with a knife to my throat before i realise how i've been so wrong all this while about stuff. there's some sort of lack of a self-correcting mechanism. and that's probably because i'm one of those people who goes through

Amazingly, my first blog ever. Don't worry, there's no bleeding. Just testing.