No Good

Jimmy smiled. She didn't smile back. Well, not unexpected, thought Jimmy; still smiling. He wasn't even sure if she was looking back at him. He dared anyway: moved closer to her, significantly closer. He was grinning now. It was almost creepy, wait, no, it was downright creepy. You know, that... that creepy, creepy grin. The up-to-no-good grin. Jimmy stretches his arm out, towards her. She doesn't seem to realize that. Jimmy touches her sides, trails his finger around. Then without warning; just picks her up in the air. With both hands, gripping her sides tightly. She doesn't react at all. Jimmy grinned wider, than ever. It was then he knew she was game. And her rules were simple: "If you want a reaction, you gotta pull the right trigger"..

Jimmy Gripped her tightly, at arms length, and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot at this proximity deafened him. Momentarily though, then the ringing subsided, and he caught himself still wincing. But he felt something else apart from that short burst of 'shock'. He felt a connection. He felt warmth. He put the barrel to his nose and sniffed. The phrase 'smoking gun' finally meant something to him.
And then he grinned; that creepy creepy grin. He was definitely up to no good...

Endangered Species

This is an advertisement for a video game on the Xbox 360.. Forza 4.
Its mainly aimed at car lovers, but the sentiment expressed is relate-able for others as well..
It is an expression of how anybody who wants to break free from the average conventional cycle of this life; is mocked, pushed aside, and then "...hunted down as every hairpin turn."
Maybe non-car-lovers might not relate to this as much..

Courtesy: YouTube.
               This youtube user..

Introductions II

"So what happened??", one may ask.

"Why the sudden pessimism...?"
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Honestly, as much as you almost expected this answer, I don't know...
All I remember is looking at the average man on the L-train and wondering; where does he get that from..?? Where does he get this crazy determination from..?? This mind-numbing thrust towards perpetual stagnation. Where does he get the courage to get up in the morning and carry on with this little charade of meaningfulness that he calls his life..?? His, oh-such-an-important-job-in-such-a-big-company, life.. How does this guy with a stained shirt and a beer gut actually think he's doing something worthwhile in his life..?? Why does he have that i'm-so-important look on his face..??
Doesn't he read the papers..??
Doesn't he live in the same world that I do..??
A world where standing up for what you believe in gets you beaten to death..
A world where the average citizen standing next to you on the bus stop will not "interfere" if you get mugged right in front of him..
A world where lies and deceit are a widely accepted form of entertainment..
Why would he bother to have hope in such a world..??
What drives this man..??
Why does he stare so self-righteously at my girlfriend..??
Why does he think he is so great, when there is, honestly, nothing exceptional about him..??
How does he think he deserves to ogle at young girl's body like that..??
What makes him think he deserves it..??
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The probable ingredients of my constant sadist pessimism:
A mixture of several negative news incidents, stringed together by my assured failure in various aspects of life, catalyzed by my concern for the safety of the girl I love..

You and I, Are Not the Same...

The fast.. We could have been the fastest.. But we slowed down for some chips on the way.. Damn those chips were good..
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Why is your idea of "acceptable appearance" sprawled all across that glossy international magazine you love so much..?? Why isn't mine..??
You see it wasn't your idea at all.. You picked up the 'idea' from that very magazine in the first place, didn't you?? Now you take pride in showing it off..
You like it don't you..?? You like the idea of someone else's name on your underwear..??
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Potato chips are amazing.. I remember picking up a rare packet from a desert gas station once.. Damn those chips were good..

Rat Race..

The Gnaw-Fest: A regular festival of glee and happiness for the participants of the legendary Rat-Race..

The Rat-Race: Hordes of humans scurrying, generation after generation, along the curves of a dark pipe, greased up with ignorance and its complimentary bliss..

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The Gnaw-Fest takes place when one of the scurrying rats does not want to scurry along with the others.. She does not want to be pushed or carried towards a pre-destined direction.. The empty purposefulness in the other rats disgusts her.. She wants to step out, first.. After stepping out She looks at the sea of her "friends" and "family-friends" and how they mindlessly trudge along in one direction..

While she stands and watches them, she realizes that they have been passing her by.. They are just moving along.. They don't even look at her properly.. They are barely bothered.. They glance, some of them, the ones who 'care' a little.. Sometimes they shout out too..

"This is a race", they would say. "The ones who lag behind, lose"

"You don't want to lose in life, do you?"

A feeling rises up inside her.. In her stomach.. It rises to her throat.. She feels sick now.. She feels sick at what she's done.. She shouldn't have stepped out.. How many have scurried passed her now..?? How much behind is she, from her "friends"..?? Will she be able to catch up to them..?? They won't wait, that's for sure.. They won't even slow down.. She'll have to speed up.. Or else she'll lose.. Lose..

Wait.. Lose..?? Lose what..??

"Lose what??", she cries back to one of the well wishers..

"Lose this race, of course", He shouts back through the crowd.. 

"Yes but what prize do I not get if I lose?", maybe a good prize might get her to speed up..

"What?"

"I said, what prize do I lose?", She was jogging along the edges to keep up with the elderly well-wisher..

"What does that mean? You lose the race. The big race, that's all. Life is finished if you lose it."

"Life is finished!?", She exclaimed. "Do they kill you at the finish line if you're not first?"

"What 'Finish-Line'..?", Said the elderly well-wisher..

Then she realized something.. The well-wisher was elderly.. And he was behind her till she decided to step out for a while.. How did he get there..??

Because there was no finish line.. The race was not meant to end.. They just scurried along till they got old.. Probably in a circle.. Till they'd die.. But nobody would attend the funeral, because nobody wants to get left behind..

She stared at them all.. Never will any of them ever realize this..??

She kept staring.. She couldn't believe that all of that struggle is for no fruit.. Almost all of these rats will lead measly lives and die with nothing..
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She was still standing and staring when it happened..

Three or four rats stepped out of the crowd at once and advanced towards her.. Their movements were co-ordinated and they quickly circled her, blocking her escape.. There were five of them now.. All staring at her with sinister eyes.. All growling and fawning at their mouths..
Wait.. Growling.. Growling..?? These weren't rats.. They looked like some kind of miniature dogs.. They were grey with bloodshot eyes.. Oh.. They were wolves.. A pack of hungry hungry miniature wolves..
They jumped at her.. All at once.. They jumped at her for she was different.. And they clawed through her flesh and reached her bones.. And they gnawed at her bones while she was still screaming.. She could see this glint in their eyes.. A glint of self-righteousness.. A glint that seemed purely devilish; now that she was on this side of this 'gnaw-fest'..

Jelly Bean..

For Mrs. B. she always was, sweet little Jelly Bean...
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Sweet, humble little Jelly Bean was as wonderful a girl as anyone would want for a daughter... She was ever so sweet and ever so light on her feet... She would run to get biscuits for her lovely Mrs. B. whenever the maid forgot to put them in the tea tray... She would always do her lessons on time and even help out some of the weak children... She would get up exactly at cock crow and go to bed immediately after the evening town bells... She was by far the perfect "daughter"... But the problem was, she wasn't Mrs. B.'s daughter... She was her neice, I think... I'm not quite sure... I don't set much by family...


Sweet little Jelly Bean...
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A nickname (you might've guessed), for the lovliest little girl in the neighbourhood... Yes, she was well known throughout her neighbourhood... They would ask her to help out with a few favours here and there... She couldn't always help (they never felt bad, she was the sweetest little thing); but she would refuse so, so politely... Not even, the other girls in the town were jealous of her (they did have their reasons)...
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Sweet little Jelly Bean was orphan... Her parents died fighting each other when Jelly Bean was six (6)... Their marriage, was a fiery one... Jelly Bean was visiting at her aunt, I think, Mrs. B., when they died... And she was really close to her... So the rest of the family decided it best, that she continued staying with her... Not that they didn't enjoy Jelly Bean's company, they just didn't want to be the one to tell the sweet little girl the bad news...
Mrs. B. never forgot that almost horrible moment in her life...: When she explained Jelly Bean that her parents were no more... Jelly Bean was suckling on an orange lollipop, pigtails in her hair, bright chequered frock on her tiny little frame (everything the sweetest girl should be)... She just looked back at Mrs. B. with expressionless eyes and said, "Can I stay with you Mrs. B...??" (she did have her reasons)...
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To Mrs. B. she always was, sweet little Jelly Bean...
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So she had no idea what she was going to walk into, when one fine afternoon, after a healthy nap, she opened Jelly Bean's door to check in with her...
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First she saw skin, a lot of skin, and then the picture formed properly in her head... Sweet little Jelly Bean was sprawled across her bottle green puffy bed... and a young boy of around her age towered over her... He was gripping Jelly Bean's sides with all his might, his face screwed up, and Jelly Bean clutched on to his shoulders tightly, for all that was dear, and was moaning loudly, "FUCK ME..!! FUCK ME HARDER..!! OH GOD YES...!! FUCK ME..!!!"

Gnaw-Fest..

I am "Joe Motherfucker".. And I now see the world and it's dominant inhabitants as a pack of hungry wolves.. I believe that they will claw through your flesh to reach your bones.. And when they reach your bones, they will gnaw at it, while you're still screaming in pain.. And there will be this glint in their eyes.. A glint of satisfaction.. A glint of self righteousness.. A glint that might have even convinced you; had you been on the other side of this 'gnaw-fest'..

You remember all those dreams and ambitions you had as a child..?? I remember one of mine.. When asked what I wanted to be when I grow up, I would reply: A Robot..

They laughed.. I felt a little bad, but laughed with them anyway.. I didn't really want to grow up to be a metal robot.. The idea in my head at that time was; that I would sit inside the robot and control it.. Sort of like a 'Mech Commander'.. There weren't any 'power rangers' around for that inspiration.. The inspiration, I think, was a mixture of 'Robocop', 'Transformers' and if some of you remember 'The Centurions'..

But they laughed.. I don't blame them.. It is comical to think of it even now.. But the point is: They laughed.

Lets make this clear.. I'm not blaming them for laughing.. I'm not saying that they shouldn't have.. Their laughter was reasonable.. I'm just saying that they laughed.. And that they will always laugh.. No matter what bright idea you think up, they will always laugh.. It will hurt you, but they won't stop laughing..

The world will ridicule your new ideas.. Always.. I don't blame it for that.. Its in its nature.. Its in human nature to resist and ridicule change.. Its in their nature to laugh.. Just like it is in the nature of those hungry wolves to eat you.. I don't blame them.. The wolves or the laughing humans, I don't blame them..

Probably because, right now, I'm on other side of this 'gnaw-fest'..

Get Mad..!!!

"I don't have to tell you things are bad. Everybody knows things are bad. Its a Depression. Everybody's out of work or scared of losing their job. The dollar buys a nickel's worth; banks are going bust; shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter; punks are running wild in the street, and there's nobody anywhere who seems to know what to do, and there's no end to it.
We know the air is unfit to breathe and our food is unfit to eat. And we sit watching our TVs while some local newscaster tells us that today we had fifteen homicides and sixty-three violent crimes, as if that's the way it's supposed to be!

We all know things are bad -- worse than bad -- they're crazy.

It's like everything everywhere is going crazy, so we don't go out any more. We sit in the house, and slowly the world we're living in is getting smaller, and all we say is, "Please, at least leave us alone in our living rooms. Let me have my toaster and my TV and my steel-belted radials, and I won't say anything. Just leave us alone."

Well, I'm not going to leave you alone.

I want you to get mad!

I don't want you to protest. I don't want you to riot. I don't want you to write to your Congressman, because I wouldn't know what to tell you to write. I don't know what to do about the depression and the inflation and the Russians and the crime in the street.

All I know is that first, you've got to get mad.

You've gotta say, "I'm a human being, goddammit! My life has value!""

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-Peter Finch's Character; Howard Beale... From the movie:  Network(1976).

-Screenwriter: Paddy Chayefsky.
This speech and scene might be from the mid 1970's... But uncannily its relevance is somehow greater in these times... Our worlds have shrunken more than ever... I spend 15 hours a day in front of a computer...
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For the Scene..:

Courtesy: YouTube.
               And this interesting website..