Swansong

I try to call you all day
But you don’t answer your phone
I need to tell you today
If only you were at home
My day has turned into night
The way that we’ve grown apart
Darkness determined to kill
Just like a stake through the heart
So I talk to myself
I gotta do this just right
But then I’m falling apart
And by the end of the night
I’ve hardly slept in my bed
And all the medicine’s gone
I stumble holding my head
Until I fall by the phone
I’m trying to call out to you
By now I can’t hardly speak
And then I know that I’m dying
I feel the cold grab my feet
It’s getting harder to breathe
I hear old Grim start to knock
And when I’m ready to leave
You turn the key in the lock
I can see you’ve been crying
Your face is swollen and sore
And then I hate that I’m dying
Don’t wanna hurt you no more
I see the fear in your eyes
As you open the door
And then the crash of your bags
And then you’re there on the floor
Before you cry out to me
My tears could cry out the tale
They say I murdered myself
I never wanted to fail
But then I murdered you too
I took your chance for a life
I’ve just killed all of your dreams
Stabbed them all with a knife
Now all I see is your face
Green eyes I love and I know
And they’re the last sight I see
Just as I feel myself go

Why do you look at me?

I’ve written slightly soppy stuff for a change, but I like the feel of it.


How do you start to be sorry?
Where do you draw the line?
Why do you always pretend
When you tell me your life is fine?
Will I see a real reaction?
When will enough be too much?
Although you know you’re just a deal to me,
You never shrink from my touch.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run
While you lie in the dirt.
As long as you love me
You’ll never be free…
Why do you even look at me?

I can feel your lips, how they tremble,
I only hurt you with each kiss.
I can see you cry with every goodbye,
What did you do to deserve this?
My pillow’s cold when you awaken
When you need me close I’ll be away,
I’m never there to hold you when it’s dark
But you pray for real love one day.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run
While you lie in the dirt.
As long as you love me
You’ll never be free…
Why do you even look at me?

Silence is a killer.
Don’t become another victim.
I don’t love you, I’m using you.
Why do you look at me?
Just, Stop.

Romance has no real meaning
I can’t hear the songs anymore.
You’ve lost the lover I used to be
And you’ll always be a whore.
Don’t you know the end has come?
Don’t waste sweet tears in crying.
I will always let you down,
I will leave you dying.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run.
I leave you lying in the dirt.
As long as you love me,
You can never be free.
I needed you once, but no more…
Why do you still look at me?

Taking down the Fourth Estate

India, my homeland. Maybe it wasn’t for my forefathers, but it is the land of my birth and continued existence. And unless I’m declared dangerous to the population, it’ll likely see my death too. It’s not the best land, with its poverty, illiteracy, unemployment, disease and the occasional natural and/or unnatural calamity, but it’s not a bad land.
We’ve now completed 58 years of freedom from British Rule, the acquisition of which, considering the manner in which it was done, remains a feat in itself. India has more universities than any single country in the world, producing leading minds in research, economics and technology. India has recently asserted its nuclear capabilities, the stock exchange has been scaling unprecedented heights of late and, well theoretically anyway, we have a champion cricket team.
Hmm…maybe we are developing after all.
But every time I begin to feel the slightest swell of national pride, this country never fails to stomp it out and piss me off. The aforementioned plagues of this land have been covered so many times that it’s not worth even going there.
The latest “step forward” I’ve heard of on the news is the censorship of printed media… After film and television have been well sanitized “so as not to affect the viewers’ sensibilities”, the printed word remained the last bastion of mostly free speech. Now they’re threatening to storm that fort too.

I know press censorship isn’t anything new anywhere in the world. Censoring for government control and political reasons isn’t unheard of. But here the argument seems to be that parents need to be able to control what their children read. The focus would be mainly on “sexual content”, which is not a big surprise. Oh please! When was the last time you saw a nude centerfold in a newspaper? Or “Ten sex tips to drive your man wild”? Understandably, every country ergo every culture has its own mores and limits of tolerance. But there has to be some reasonable logic to it.
Censoring films and television is acceptable to an extent. They are, for the most part, fiction and can afford a few less cherries on the cake. But dropping articles from newspapers so your kid doesn’t ask awkward questions is just crossing too many lines. Until now the printed media has enjoyed the freedom to call spade a spade, while every other medium of mass communication has held its tongue. Take that away and you’re left with nothing but veiled words and winks.
Children are gonna grow up in a world filled with too many Parental Guidance tags. Newspapers will miss their big scoop the next time a celebrity loses her top because Junior gets curious when he sees the word nipple.
And that’s not all, what about the people who actually read the paper? Yeah, that’s right, the adults. We need the occasional tabloid trash to spice up our day. All we’re gonna have left is the little league version of the daily blah; hardly something worth wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee on.

Show thyself !

I’ve been meaning for some time now to talk about some stops I made while wandering the web. Interesting sites – interesting to me, anyway – with more to offer than is immediately apparent. But… I dunno… maybe it’s this dreary atmosphere, what with the rains back again (H2 Oh No!), that keeps me from unleashing (!) my creative outbursts on some well intended but unwitting domain. Adding to that, Winamp seems intent on Britney Spears today. Cap it off with a shitty space bar on my keyboard and it paints a very sorry picture. Herewego, wait,no, backagain… Bang! Bang! I’ll gladly hit you one more time, baby… Smash! Why doesn’t this thing just break so I can get a new one? Maybe the cat should take a whizz on it… Maybe it already did! Crap…
I just wanna say at this point, that this is shaping up to be probably my worst post to date. No, I’m quite sure of it, but I just wanted to put something here to christen the new look.
Oh yes, just remembered something I can rant about! I am the Ranting Swede! Except that I'm not really Swedish...
I’ve been checking out a lot of other blogs lately, ‘cos being a newbie and all, I wanted to see what people are talking about. And surprisingly, I do sometimes get tired of talking about myself! Here’s what I don’t get. There are plenty of people out there who use their space as a simple diary to log their daily drama. (Or lack of it) Fine, if you wanna check what you did forty seven days ago, that’s your beeswax. But what’s with the signing in and out… “Bye for now!” Or “Seeya next time…” or “Byee!” (with the Smileys!) Who is this target audience? And don’t miss the big “Hi!” or “Hey, it’s me again!”
Yeah and I was expecting Dustin Hoffman…
Okay, so you keep a diary, it’s your personal account, your day, the events that shaped it, what a tramp your neighbor is, how your guy/girl isn’t putting out… whatever.
1. Its called the World Wide Web
2. Do you really have to tell All That to the World Wide Web?

Alright, when I started this, I too thought it would be a nice little cove where I could say what I want and keep all my daily doings. Well, I’m damn well saying what I want but I’m keeping my daily doings out of it. The internet has enough space wasted on useless trifles without being further polluted by what is ironically ‘nothing’. If you have something to say, spit it out. But don’t just keep spraying it without actually saying anything at all. True, everybody has a right to be heard…but you gotta say something first.
It’s exhibitionism- the essence. Exhibitionists aren’t just those dare to bare types, y’know, the ones who’ll flash a passing bus for no good reason, or strip down on what is clearly not a nudist beach, or the streakers who run out during the biggest game of the season, compelling millions of unwary strangers to bask in the glory of their unsheathed unmentionables. There’s an exhibitionist and a voyeur in everyone, one fulfilling the desire of the other. And for every individual bold enough to put on even the tiniest show, there’ll be plenty queuing for dress circle seats.
Peeping through shower curtains and keyholes is passé. Now it’s about getting into people’s minds and into their lives. That’s why Reality TV rules, isn’t it?

Day One

This place seems to be nothing short of an unending spout of my seemingly endless outpourings on my seemingly useless quest for definition.
Well today I stop. No more excuses, no more trying to explain me and my idiosyncrasies. Take it or leave it. This is me, straight up, lump it.
Why the apparent turn around? Television. Finally I’ve witnessed eye opening TV and it was gratifying to know that for once, I had more than just a faint idea of what she was talking about, ‘cos that was exactly my life! Just without the trailer park.
You can’t go through life without the unrelenting pressure on your back. It starts with parents, your siblings, friends, teachers, your boss, new friends, colleagues, your girlfriend, the wife, the in-laws, children, the other woman you’re seeing, the kids’ education, old friends, home loans, it doesn’t end. What does matter, is the path you take so it doesn’t swallow you. You can either go from day to day bearing the burden while constantly trying to justify yourself to everyone who points a finger at you, and there’re lots of them, or you can stop; instead of striving for definition while towing the line, make your own rules. Every time I’ve tried to justify myself, I noticed that it changed slightly since the last time. Which led me to clarity. For some people, there is no definition, just gray lines of text that you have to read between to get a fuzzy look at the core. So in the end, all the attempts to reverse the pointing fingers have been exercises in futility, ‘cos they all add up to a big fat nothing.
It’s been all around me, in every movie I've liked, in my choice of music, my choice of food, my clothes, the drinks I favor, my role models, even down to my favorite car. I’ve just never been able to put my finger down on it because I’ve been too busy with the D word. It’s taken me this long to figure out that the simplest way to define me is, don’t.
Living free from the mundane is what sets the people I admire apart from the others. It’s the something I’ve wondered about for so many hours, which makes the difference between a loser and a non-loser. What is a non-loser anyway? Just a winner who hasn’t won yet. And to win, you just need to make yourself happy, not the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% grateful every single day for everything I’m getting from my parents and I will give back whenever the time comes. But bottomline, I have a life to live.
I’m a slacker, openly. I have been and always will be, don’t think I can change that. But why I will eventually have my cake and eat it too is because I’m accepting my slackness and I’m willing to make the best I can of it. I’m not alone here, there’s an entire generation out there living the same deal as me. Intelligent youth, blessed with education and opportunity, who choose not to jump through the hoop just to go with the system. I choose to settle for apparent mediocrity so that I can achieve my own envisionment of excellence. Once I get there, I’ll be happy irrespective of what anyone else thinks, because, quite simply, it won’t matter.
Friend tells me that I take on a fake persona in public, hiding the real me; and I’ve spent time trying to convince him otherwise. No need to guess, WRONG! We all have that face we need to put on before we show ourselves to “somebody”. The same somebody who puts that pressure on our already laden shoulders. Well, I’m gonna try and shed that skin ‘cos I’m tired of biding my time and hiding. The way I’m headed, I know I'll never fit the description of having made it big, but at least this is the first step to knowing that I will be happy. And every day that I’m happy, I’m a winner again.
I’ve spent the last 22 years making myself into what I am today. That’s a joke! I haven’t a clue. A graduate? Yeah, right. I don’t know what I am today. This is a statement I could well make every day for the rest of my life without it ever being false, because there is no definite me, nor will there ever be.
You think this is nothing but a stereotypical sorry excuse from a Gen Y lazy sonofabitch? Go ahead, take your shot. I won’t hold it against you; you have your opinion and I have my way.
Life never settles down so you can sit back and admire what you are on a particular day. Life and everything in it, is always just a work in progress, nothing more, nothing less.
Everyday is a beginning. Today is Day One.
Tomorrow is Day One. And the day after that and the day after that.