It’s Friday night,
and the canvas is cold
beneath the breaths of one whose brush will bring
colour … clarity and complement,
corner to corner
in subtle shades and strokes,
while around him, friends
and fellows do the same,
though he’s too modest
for signing his name.
On the opposite shore,
another sits before
piled papers and bound books,
his Parker poised
to pen and preserve
the promises no human heart could keep,
so love might last forever
in poetry and sleep.
It’s Friday night,
8 TV shows I love to Watch
1.Any show on Animax (i am a big time anime freak)
6.One Tree Hill
8 Favourite Places to Eat
1.Afraa(My most favourite place ever)
2.Arsalan....Park Street 1(with my friends ,the biryani tastes even more delecious)
3.Kaafila(as i prefer moghlai dishes)
4.Delicious momos available outside the Rabindrasadan metro station
5.Nizams near New Market(for its delicious rolls)
6.Peter Cat(Chelo Kebabs are an all time favourite)
7.Parantha Gali of Chandi Chowk,New Delhi
8.Little Italy....because I love I-talian
8 THINGS THAT HAPPENED YESTERDAY
1.Took Operation Research and Operating System exams
2.Had to Prepeare For Automata and Microprocessor but still sat down with Anna Karenina by Toltsoy..........(i am reading it for the second time...but still loving it)
3.Tried to cheer up my friends by telling them about my newest blank verse
4.Tried to climb up my collge's boundary but was unsuccesful
5.Kept on thinking and thinking for quite a long time(don't know about what)
7.Got drenched in the rain ........and started jumping(in the literal sense) around my campus.......splashing water on evryone........and kept scaring people by poking them with my umbrella
8.Composed a new song with my band.
8 Things I look forward to
1.Some time for myself
2.A little more sleep
3.A lot of excitement in my life
4.A lot more peace
6.Scare and confuse people more than I usally do
7.Scuba-diving and bunjee jumping
8.To do crazy stuff
8 Things I love About Winter
1.The Cold dry weather
2.Smell of Nolen Gur
4.A lot of laziness
5.Lot of reading and writing while sipping a hot cup of coffee........wrapped up in a blanket
6.Christmas and Christmas carols(after being in a convent school for 14 years.........I really miss the cookies,cakes,carols and christmas celebrations)
8.Smell of Coffee
8 Things on my Wishlist
1.Being a Wizard and writing My very own book of spells
2.Getting to work with something related to Art ,Music or Fashion
4.Being more evil (Like the Pure Evil types)
5.Being more and more knowledgeable with every passing second
6.Set out on a world tour
8.I figure I have a good shot at having my poetry whipped out at my funeral - great stuff here for the Eulogy: Gonna call my first poetry book - “Things to Read After I Bite It”
8 Things im Passionate About
8 Phrases or words that I Use very often
3.........(that means that ......you better figure it out)
8 Things I learned From My past
1.Life is good.......and people even better........
2.Edward Cullen cannot be a real life character(sigh)
3.Im much better than I expected myself to be
4.I surprise myself(at times even shock myself)
5.To love one's self is the beginning of a life-long romance
6.The first sin in our universe was Lucifer's self conceit.
7.My family never reads my poetry
8.The flabby wine-skin of his brain, Yields to some pathologic strain, And voids from its unstored abysm ,The driblet of an aphorism
8 Places I Would Love to go or Visit or See
1.The Vatican City
8 Things I currently Need or Want
1.Some good books
2.Sleep and rest(im too exhausted)
3.A little bit of excitement
4.No more Identity Crisis
6.A book of spells
7.A little less confusion
8.Some new Ideas
8 People to Tag
Anyone who wants to get tagged............please feel free to post this......................
aaaaahhhhh................writing about oneself is too difficult
Hey friends this in fond memory of my goldfish koi
And if you ask me why i have written this........you can say Fondness for Conan Doyle+Pain of Seperation from koi....Koi even Ruby(my favourite cat friend) misses you
You have a number of low-cost options available to you in detecting, apprehending, and "disposing of" the thief of your beloved, disappearing koi.
1) Fashion a decoy koi using several cups of goldfish crackers, glue, and gold metallic paint. Before the mixture is allowed to set, insert several plaque dye tablets at the core of your faux fish, then sculpt to approximate a fattened, succulent koi. If your neighbor or neighbor's cat boasts vivid, scarlet-stained teeth immediately following a koi disappearance, you are well within your rights to take matters to the next level.
2) Apprehend one of your neighbor's 13 cats for interrogation, taking great care to replace the cat with an exact duplicate. (Purchase a close approximation at your local animal shelter, then proceed to an animal groomer — which are often fronts for underground pet trading — and, after showing them a photograph of the kidnapped kitty, they should be able to provide a believable twin.) Interrogating a cat is fairly simple once you break past their aloof façade. (Catnip is a cruelty-free way of achieving this end.) Anchovies, smelt, or tuna are effective inducements to getting at the truth, as are balls of genuine wool yarn, squeaky mice, or even brown paper shopping bags. For that rarest of subjects — the faithful cat — harsher measures may need to be employed, such as electro-cat box therapy and/or rubbing their fur the wrong way.
3) Dress yourself in a large, gray-green garbage bag and lay at the bottom of your pond, breathing through a hollow reed, toy flute, or camouflaged Krazy Straw. If someone disturbs the sanctity of your pond, grab him or her by the wrists and pull them into the pond for as long as you deem necessary.
4) Improvise. Have fun! Go crazy! Espionage is about more than just the act or practice of spying or of using spies to obtain secret information: it's about expressing yourself in unique ways. (Though, to be perfectly honest, it is mostly about the act or practice of spying or of using spies to obtain secret information.)
I'll tell you the story of Cloony the Clown
Who worked in a circus that came through town.
His shoes were too big and his hat was too small,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
He had a trombone to play loud silly tunes,
He had a green dog and a thousand balloons.
He was floppy and sloppy and skinny and tall,
But he just wasn't, just wasn't funny at all.
And every time he did a trick,
Everyone felt a little sick.
And every time he told a joke,
Folks sighed as if their hearts were broke.
And every time he lost a shoe,
Everyone looked awfully blue.
And every time he stood on his head,
Everyone screamed, "Go back to bed!"
And every time he made a leap,
Everybody fell asleep.
And every time he ate his tie,
Everyone began to cry.
And Cloony could not make any money
Simply because he was not funny.
One day he said, "I'll tell this town
How it feels to be an unfunny clown."
And he told them all why he looked so sad,
And he told them all why he felt so bad.
He told of Pain and Rain and Cold,
He told of Darkness in his soul,
And after he finished his tale of woe,
Did everyone cry? Oh no, no, no,
They laughed until they shook the trees
With "Hah-Hah-Hahs" and "Hee-Hee-Hees."
They laughed with howls and yowls and shrieks,
They laughed all day, they laughed all week,
They laughed until they had a fit,
They laughed until their jackets split.
The laughter spread for miles around
To every city, every town,
Over mountains, 'cross the sea,
From Saint Tropez to Mun San Nee.
And soon the whole world rang with laughter,
Lasting till forever after,
While Cloony stood in the circus tent,
With his head drooped low and his shoulders bent.
And he said,"THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT -
I'M FUNNY JUST BY ACCIDENT."
And while the world laughed outside.
Cloony the Clown sat down and cried.
Sleepless the sound of nostalgia
Down in the chalets of remorse,
Folded the November pages of school diary
Leftover of battles, witness of war…
Humor me now, my articulate friends,
Reframe my flaws through my remains…
Leave nothing behind, for once, of this day,
Leave nothing behind to follow the sunset…
I am all yours today at own will
Never mind the penetrating pills…
The surrounding haze will soon pass forever
And I will wake up to dry grass…
Mesmerize me, hypnotize me…
Kill me, shred me, vitalize me…
Then turn the tables around by the hour,
And pass me the salt for all I can scour…
All I can scour…
Simmered afternoons in the waking,
Remember the gladiators’ swords…
Fighting unto the wishful demented finality-
Death- the worries fade to the end…
Burn everything when death does apart
My body and my ever-hovering past…
Save nothing for my grandchildren to contest
Save nothing for them to ever detest…
1.Computers can interface with any other computer regardless of the
manufacturer or galaxy where it originated. (See "Independence Day".)
2.The more high-tech the equipment, the more buttons it will have. (See
3.Searches on the internet will always return what you are looking for no
matter how vague your keywords are. (See "Mission Impossible", Tom Cruise
searches with keywords like "file" and "computer" and 3 results are
4.You can also infect a computer with a destructive virus by simply typing "UPLOAD VIRUS". (See "Fortress".)
5.You may bypass "PERMISSION DENIED" message by using the "OVERRIDE"
function. (See "Demolition Man".)
6.If you display a file on the screen and someone deletes the file, it also
disappears from the screen (See "Clear and Present Danger").
7.Complex calculations and loading of huge amounts of data will be
accomplished in under three seconds. Movie modems usually appear to
transmit data at the speed of two gigabytes per second.
8.A hacker is always able to break into the most sensitive computer in the
world by guessing the secret password in two tries.
(Concept adopted From The Wall Street Journal)
Why the evening bell of the ferry brings
To my memory this lilting ring?
No sound on earth seems to deem
More destined for only me…
I hope to be the only one to hear,
To own the secret of the boat.
Solitude stands between me and the river,
In the woods of the half road.
And I am also the only one to know of
The reason I came with you along…
The only one shall vanish into the river
With all you ever gave her.
Will you ever forgive…
For deserting you so anonymously?
Will you burn if I asked you
To do it alone for me?
Will you ever forgive
My desertion today?
Will you sacrifice
More of your scarlet ink
To allay my old chains…?
How do you forgive?
Every single day, I ask of you… this?
1.Life is all about being in the Invisible mode
2.The Phrase i am Possible was discovered by someone impotent
3.Sinusitis is a modern day bliss
4.Something worth taking seriously is worth making fun of
5.Screwing up makes a perfect man
6.He who is a lunatic is actually the most possible normal person on earth.
7.We all are programmed to react the we do way ,there will surely be an anti-programme to this,like matter to an ani-matter,dark to light and white to black
don't be a loser always,think on it,and decide ..for yourself.
8.The most strange question on earth is "HOW?".....because how is actually a dyanamically static and statically dyanamic question
9.There is not much difference between real and unreal.....real is actually the most unreal thing and unreAL is what that real is made up of
10.Our existence is an illusion .............it may be that we dont exist in reality.....and thats where it gives rise to Surrealism
The crimson eye-shadow sees
What eternity once overlooked
Down the isle of frozen fallacies
In the land of dried-up brooks.
As you never came again
To bury what you had killed.
You will never see again…
How the feet scrambled,
Sloshed against the parapet floor
And limped over the threshold,
How it escaped into the vapid night,
An open wound to bleed to life…
The ripen flaws of your soul
Will remain forever locked
In those eyes, in the wound,
In the stagger of the eager walk.
On the glass in your eyes mayhem,
Hammer the tears of the heavens…
When she molded her demise
With the forgiveness in her dead eyes…
When the night descended slowly
You bargained your soul for her body.
What God you yield in your turning back
Who has no future, has no past!
You believed you yielded her eternity…
…So you left…
But she escaped.
Confronted by the same enigmatical spectacle the artist descends within himself,and in that lonley region of stress and stife ,if he be deserving and fortunate,he finds the terms of his appeal.
Fiction-if that it all aspires to be art,the appeal of one painting,like music,like all art,the appeal of one temperament to all other innumerable temperaments whose subtle and resistless power endows passing events with thier true meaning,and creates the moral,the emotional atmosphere of the place and time.Such an appeal to be effective must be an impression convergent through senses,and in fact it cannot be made in any other way,because temperament,whether individual or collective,is not amenable to persuasion.
Creativity must strenously aspire to the plasticity of sculpture,to the colour of painting,and to the magic suggestiveness of music-which is the art of arts.And it is only through complete,unanswering devotion to the perfect blending of form and substance,it iis only through an unremmiting never discouraged care for the shape and ring of sentences that an approach can be made to plasticity,to colour,and that the light of magic suggestiveness may be brought to play for an evanescent instant over the commonplace surface of words of the old,old words.worn thin,defaced by ages of careless usage.