It took 6 hamburgers, scotch all night, nicotine for breakfast just to put me right...

**How Kaavya Vishwanathan borrowed, published, made $500,000 and then was publicly humiliated.

Sheesh, she really thinks plagiarism is that easy?

“I must have internalised the books (Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings by Megan McCafferty ) and used concepts, manners of speaking to fuel my own book”

Ha!

Now the skank got her due. I still have a chance to be the ‘first one’ then. Yay!

**My first day completely alone in Bangalore.

Zilch. Nil.

Kay, lemme start again in an effort to pen a few words of truth and experience on a day that I felt myself overawed with the sights and sounds in my surroundings, on a day when I felt myself overabundant with literary potency, and I rootle for words, I do.

My favourite memory in B’lore has always been the Planet M in the busier part of Brigade Road, where you put on your headphones to listen to the latest in the pop/rock section and you gaze out the glass screen to witness and absorb throngs of people, all moving, not going anywhere in particular, colourful, loud things, creatures, shiny happy people. (That one phrase is so apt for what I wanna describe, thank you REM)

I sit on a bench overlooking M.G Road as I write this directly opposite the erstwhile Plaza theatre, now stripped of every trace of a bubbling hangout.

Just a while ago, sipping on some lemon ‘n’ iced tea (again at Brigade’s, the CD that’s in the interior somewhere) I read a bit of Papillon and felt so blissful as I hadn’t in a long time, or maybe hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. Here the ambience was good, I sat there, alone for almost a good two hours; the only thing repeatedly interfering in this event of a fantasy being the most godawful hip-hop that they were playing on channel 204 of worldspace. (Although, the title of a song being ‘brother from another mother’ totally cracked me up)

Before CCD, I’d spent some time alone in Blossoms. I always spend time in either blossoms or Crossword whenever I come to B’lore. Delightful, wonderful way to spend the load of time on your hands. Bought ‘Half asleep in Frog Pyjamas’ by Tom Robbins, after having heard raves ‘bout it on the literature forum.

Also bought ‘The Tao of Physics’ by Fritjof Capra off the road. Promises to be a good read. I asked for Cuckold, but they were understandably sold out of them.

It’s 4:24 P.M on Tuesday the 25^th day of April, and my legs ache so, as I try to ward off lecherous glances from some not so innocuous looking men, and there I was thinking I could write about life.

About life. H’m.

If only one’s thoughts could filter as well, if only one’s sponge like mind would not understand and absorb everything there is to be listened to and most that people say.

(Addendum: I scout around for any sign of Boy, or at least Boy-like looking people. Lots of Boy-like looking people)

Life is too much to be expressed in a sentence. However clever the catchphrase may be. It is very inconsistent, to give one complete meaning and derive satisfaction from it.

It is gigantic enough to accommodate every single fucking one of our minds and mouths and bodies. No, wait, that’s the world.

As I absorb, (see aforementioned ‘absorb’) I notice how I have changed, how I have been changing, how I remain long convinced that there is no meaning, and yet invariably, instinctively ask, question and wonder enough to make a laudable effort at dredging up an answer/meaning.

I realize how I have grown more mature, more silent, intense over the past few weeks, a few laughs (and worthy ones they were) – and fewer smiles. I feel like I’ve deposited my sexual energy in deeper, darker places within myself.

Ah, now, Its begun to rain. Will have to stop.

Oh, how I wish my life would chronicle itself, a pen would just keep on writing on the who and what and why I am.

*Sigh*