turn on, plug in stuff and die in peace.

okay now! As I gulp down a large dose of winter beer, suck in a large volume of Mayfair and cut the call made to Ashok,I sit down to write this. To be honest, Ashok didn't disappoint me. He was successful in proving himself as anti social and susceptible to vice.

And to Shikhara,my love, I was always brutally honest to you but spare me this time,ain't I. I intimated you this as my signing off note but this isn't. In fact, it's a signing on piece. Alcohol had always been kind to me and I expect it to be too, in the coming future,if at all my bad pair of lungs wouldn't burst out the smoke.

I am pretty aware of the fact that people exist with limitless amount of intellect oozing out of their pens but being a human,I too possess that unhealthy obsession of giving anything that 'one' another try. I know a bunch of wannabes trying to be someone else losing out all their lives and I wish to tell them only one thing said by Kirk Hammett of Metallica. Forever trust in who we are and Nothing else matters. Reading Chetan Bhagat would never turn you into an asshole as long as you keep laughing at his works but as soon as you start seriously desire to become Syan or something there starts the collapse eventually.

This always comes back to me. To pour myself onto a piece of paper. I just don't know and don't want to too why I feel like writing only when I am high. It's again instinct. I believe in instinct rather than in intuition. Just like having faith in Tendulkar rather than in Dravid which is fragile and fugitive but what can one do? Sachin has become God and this had become a habit for me. Helpless and better if left untouched.

Each time I place a pint glass infront of me, I strictly warn myself of staying away from pen. Later, I slowly gave that up as I thought that is the only time when I can actually be myself without shrugging in disgust to meet others' demands. Turning out into a sensible chap from a reckless asshole is basically a lot of thought process articulated and stretches out its hand for more foregoes for which one would be ever ready. That is one valuable and costly lesson I've learnt so far on this West front.

As I keep ressing return button n this mini key board I am losing the so far slutch from on this post and I strongly know that this post is going to be a fucked up one never mind! Oops ! hold on! Nothing else matters!

Plug in your music machine and keep listening to metallica getting ready to face your final avert with so much of solitude in your face so that it scares the hell out of the final foe and be ready to rest in peace.

In the mean while I have a conversation left in debt with Ashok would finish it and yea the last two pints of beer too and I would join you along in the chorus of "Aaaand Nothing else Matters."