Caesarean Rhapsody

I was a yawn and a loud thud away from walking out of office when I came across this post on Bhargavi’s blog. Something went off in my head and here is the outcome for you to read.

A general mish-mash of pish-posh basically inspired by, and not plagiarized off, the aforementioned post.

—

Emancipation

when the morning comes, the cow lows
and with the first ochre ray
arrives a bright new sunny day
“get up go to work; it’ll be fine”
and i feel shivers run down my spine
man, the water in the shower’s cold

smartly dressed zombies all around
in all shapes and sizes they abound
am here to work, they say
not a trace of life, much to my dismay
man, the air ’round ‘ere’s cold

and as they try to bring me
into their fold; i ache to break free
feeling suppressed and trampled under
i can’t help but reach out
to the feeling in them that’s asunder
man, your hearts’ve gone cold

and i leap off the ledge
only to discover the sun on the sky’s edge
i plummet toward the ground nether
the wind in my hair; light as a feather
without shackles, no gag made of leather
man, that was bold
jumping out from ‘tween the walls
out into the sunset gold
flying with the birds, falling with the leaves
look ma, it’s warm now, not a bit cold

No this isn’t a post relating Viagra junkies to the syndrome that impairs cognisance. It’s merely about how small things, seemingly unrelated to one’s own life can either depress or elate a person.

Saturday was as lazy as things could get. Met a friend over lunch and drowsily exchanged thoughts as we guzzled beer. At night, around 11, as I was dropping him off, he told me about his friend who’s in love with a girl, how they’re supposed to get married and also that the marriage wouldn’t last long. The reason is the girl is terminally ill from a condition of the heart. We never got around to talking about her illness as I drove off immediately after. But it disturbed me. The thought haunted me till I fell asleep that day. Why do people who seem to have found a great partner have some or the other misfortune lying in ambush to eclipse their happiness, whereas there are countless examples of shallow and meaningless relationships around us which continue to exist and laugh in the face of human bonding. I’m baffled. Speechless.

The up, was this morning when I drove to office. Midway between my house and the workplace is a patch of road which has schools on both sides. I came to a halt at a traffic signal on the road as hordes of kids tried to cross the road to make it to the morning assembly. Tiny tots dressed in pristine whites bounced about, trying to keep their bags from falling off their shoulders and juggling their water bottles as they crossed on the zebra strip. It was like a trip down memory lane, where I saw myself in a school uniform running to make it to the school grounds before the morning prayers. Was also reminded of my nephews and one really tiny niece. Come to think of it, how much ever I pretend to hate them in front of their parents, for me those kids are a means of reliving my childhood.

Mixed emotions! What a way for man to realize that it only takes so much to throw life out of balance, or restore equilibrium.

I don’t have to explain such situations to people like me who suffer from “foot-in-mouth”. It’s at moments like these you wish you had shut up long before the smiling face got warped into that of the frog you dissected back in 12th grade. Just read the following series of letters and you’ll know. As always, no apologies to pansies who will get offended by the language.

Dear Emily,

Hi! How are you? I hope this letter finds you well. I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I’m the guy who fingered you at sleepaway camp.

Anyway, I was just thinking about that, so I thought I would write and see how everything turned out with you.

Your Friend (kind of),

michael ian black

Dear Emily,

After not getting a response, I have become very worried that my last letter somehow offended you. Confused, I reread what I wrote several times, and finally came to the conclusion that, if you were offended, it was probably the part about fingering you that did it.

If so, I am very sorry. Not about fingering you (which was great), but about referring to it so candidly after not communicating with you in over 20 years. So, I’m sorry. In the future, if I refer to fingering you at all, I will try to be a little more discreet.

Very Sorry,

michael ian black

Dear Emily,

Hi, it’s me again (the guy who f-ed you). Still haven’t heard back from you. Is everything okay between us?

Write Back,

michael ian black

P.S. That’s a rhyme – “Write Back/Michael Ian Black” LOL!

Dear Emily,

Oh my God! I just realized that when I said I “f-ed you” in my last letter, that easily could be read as “fucked you.” God forbid your husband or lover (lesbian?) should read that! If that person IS reading THIS letter, I did NOT fuck your wife/lover. I just fingered her. I was just trying to be discreet about referencing it, which is why I used the initial “f” for “fingering.” Total brain fart!

Please tell Emily to write me back. Or Emily, if you are the one reading this, sorry about calling you a lesbian in the previous paragraph (unless you actually ARE a lesbian, in which case I am TOTALLY cool with that) Did my fingering you turn you gay? I hope not.

Sorry Again,

michael ian black

Dear Emily,

Still no word from you. I feel like maybe we got off on the wrong foot right from the get-go, and I’d like to try to make it up to you.

Let me start over, and if you still don’t want to write back, I will definitely understand.

(Starting over):

Dear Emily,

Hi! How are you? This is michael ian black. We went to camp together a long time ago. In fact, we kind of “dated” one summer. Pretty funny, huh? I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I definitely remember you. In fact, I have many fond memories of walking around the lake with you, playing knock hockey with you in the canteen, and also finger popping you.

The truth is, you were the first girl I ever fingered, and I still think about it all the time. Please take that as the compliment that it is intended to be, and not as anything “weird” or “creepy.”

(Believe me, I could easily see how receiving a letter from a 35-year-old man reminiscing about fingering a 13-year-old girl could be construed as inappropriate. It was DEFINITELY not intended that way)

Anyway, if you get a moment, I’d love to hear all about your life. Do you like dogs?

Your Friend,

michael ian black

Dear Emily,

It’s starting to become clear to me that you have no intention of writing back. At first I thought it was because you were shy, and didn’t know what to say in your letters, which is why I ended the last one with a question designed to being a dialogue (“Do you like dogs?”).

However, now I’m beginning to think you just don’t want to communicate. Maybe you told your husband that HE was the first guy who ever fingered you, and these letters are a painful reminder of the lie you are living.

If that’s the case, I DEFINITELY understand. I was once in similar position with a girl who wanted to put something (a small jar of martini olives) up my ass. Of course, I told her she was the first. But believe me when I tell you, she was FAR from the first.

I lost touch with that girl a long time ago, but if she were to write to me today, I think I would at least have the courtesy to write her back.

I hope you die.

michael ian black

P.S. If you do die, I’m going to go to the funeral and finger your corpse

(Hat tip: This guy.)

Amongst all the “Kill <insert annoying celebrity/cartoon/stuffed animal name>” games floating about on the internet, there is none where you get to butcher Alyson Hannigan.

Who’s she? It’s that psycho bitch, with puppy dog eyes, who is second only to Woody Allen in acting like a nervous wreck on the first date with the high school hottie. Here’s a picture so you get an idea.

I hope she gets mauled by Big Foot. Or attacked by a bunch of rabid dogs. Or an anvil falls on her fat head, pointy end first. Or she is made to sit through one of our technical brainstorming sessions and her head explodes from all the cooking.

Why do I hate her so much? Hmm…now that’s a toughie. It’s probably the same reason I want to rip thru the Von Trapp kids with a rusty chainsaw whenever they break into that song-n-dance routine or run around naked in the cinema hall while “Charlie and the chocolate factory” is playing, singing a Marilyn Manson song.

Any anger management gurus out there?

Oh … and if everything goes well, come next weekend and I should be off to Shillong for the Festival of Rock

An awesome song, by an even more awesome band.

Try and put together the lyrics and you’ll know what I mean.

Lou Reed, no matter what people think of you, you rock!

Wow. Suddenly I stumble upon some pure gold. Weird Al has serious competition from these guys.

But what I like is the fact that every dirty, skanky ho of a teen pop Princess has found her place in this video.

Fuck all of you bitches. Music today sucks because of you. Thanks for nothing.

Since when did being ignorant become cool?

Since when do people consider being dumb, hot?

I live in a weird world … and I hate it!!!