Terrorism: As creative as it gets

Came across this news today!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/terrorism-in-the-uk/6258137/New-al-Qaeda-body-bombs-that-can-beat-airport-security-are-alarming-terror-experts.html

I wonder what's next?

Al Qaeda terrorists engaged in reproductive processes with women, their reproductive fluids laced with genetically combined explosive chemicals so that the women in question give birth to IEDs (Improvised Explosive Device) blowing up maternity hospitals in that process?

This is crazy!

Know Thyself on YouTube

Let us start with a question.

What would YouTube be called if it were in existence in Shakespearean era? - ThyTube

With such a quality of jokes, I should soon start preaching virtues of being non violent on this blog. If I don't I will surely be lynched. Stroke of bad luck you may call it, even the blog is called "the Outburst" thus being the ultimate justification of my murder if it ever happened. Looking at the positive side of the bad quality jokes at my disposal, I can patent them and then CIA can buy the rights for these jokes from me to be used as Enhanced Interrogation Techniques. I can also part time as a consultant to them.

I came across this song today and I was amazed to the extent that it described my current state of my mind. It did not help, it just stated facts but did not answer the question to life, the universe and everything. Please do not post comments saying that the answer is 42, my Nostradamusian mind is seeing that coming already. My mind is already shouting at such comments, "Turn away, Go back to The Book, you stupid answer........"

This is my umpteenth attempt at this post. I did not want to sound psychotic, but then each draft sounded more pathetic than the previous one. Suddenly I started seeing parallels between my state of mind and the artist's which I initially failed to see, given that Trent Reznor was recouping in a rehab from substance abuse problem when he composed this song. Before somebody complains to my parents about me being a substance abuse victim, I need to clarify that the parallels were on a uh...... ahem.....err....... on a spiritual level. (Dude I need to improve my English, lack of vocabulary can be shocking to the listener at times!!)

Here's the song.



This was the first song I listened to today. Reason for playing this is very straightforward. I wanted to drown the noise of the Navaratri bhajans that were being played on loudspeakers outside my house. Industrial rock is the only genre strong enough to face bhajans worshipping the divine power of the female form which is primarily the reason for celebrating Navaratri. The only thing that falls out of the contours of my intellectual capacity is, why do people need to celebrate the power of the female form on a loudspeaker. Can't everyone do it within the confines of their homes and keep it quiet? (No giggling at this point please)

Digressing a bit, although I wrote an obituary in my last post, I decided that even though I did not give birth to this blog, I will not let it die without giving it a chance of survival. I will nurture it as my own, torture it with my jokes and make it a strong blog. ZZ, I am not going to do the same with your puppy. It is just too much work.

Wish everyone could find a song that mirrored their own state of mind.

Fellow Vogons, does anyone have a song like that?

The End

The sad:
Heartening to see the blog come alive in its death.
Hell, what could have been more disastrous - a purposeless birth, a silent life, and painfully prolonged death.

I set you free Outburst.

This is the end,
Beautiful friend,
This is the end,
My only friend, the end.

-Jim Morrison

The happy:
This is also the end of a constipated silence. This sets the conversations rolling. This where the party begins.

Ashen-Lady.
Ashen-Lady.
Give up your vows.
Give up your vows.
Save our city.
Save our city.
Ah, right now.

Well, I woke up this morning
And I got myself a beer.
Well, I woke up this morning
And I got myself a beer.

The future's uncertain
And the end is always near!

Let it roll, baby, roll.

-Jim Morrison

Requiescat In Pace (R.I.P), the Outburst :(

If tears could build a stairway,

And memories were a lane,

We would walk right up to heaven,

And bring you back again.

Since you’ll never be forgotten,

We pledge to you today,

A hallowed place within our hearts,

Is where you’ll always stay.

Thank you, thank you for all the applause at my creativity in writing the above two stanzas. Shameless as I am, let me admit that I “R.I.P.ped” it off an existing person’s obituary. Oops, sorry, not existing because then there would be no obituary, I meant a real person, may his soul rest in peace. For convenience, let’s call him “the Deceased”. (I have been reading a lot of legal documents lately!). Please be careful with the spelling though, you may confuse it with “the Diseased” and it won’t make logical sense to logicark in this dimension or the second dimension or the third dimension or the fourth (Now panting……….) or nth. And irrespective of whichever darkest corner of the world you are hiding in order to escape the wrath of his undeniable, cogent logic, he will hunt you down, and make you face your worst fear. Which is “a” statement, always Rajnikanthesque or Mithunesque or Vijaykantheseque in nature. And it goes like this, “Do you mean diseased or deceased, because deceased is not the same as diseased and you ought to know what you are using, because it distorts the meaning you want to convey, unless of course it is your very objective to distort the meaning in which case my question of whether it is deceased or diseased becomes pointless because then it doesn’t matter if it were diseased or deceased as you wouldn’t want people to know what it is”.

Then what you are supposed to do is let out a shriek of pain and immediately start wondering why you were ever born in this world? Also you have to realize that now after the statement, you are closer to death than before which is where the Rajnikanthesquenes ends because it doesn’t kill you in entirety. That of course is because he is a beloved friend and a fellow Vogon poet.

Shamelessness continued, I did not even put the full obituary. These are only two of the four stanzas that I copied. Putting it fully is plagiarism; putting half of it is not according to my twisted logic.

So dear friends, Vogon poets join me in expressing deep condolences for the demise of this blog. As Amitabh Bachchan pointed out in Deewar that there can actually be a time lag between demise and funeral/obituary (To quote,

“Mera baap to bees saal pahle hi mar gaya tha, aaj to sirf uski chita jal rahi hai”

), I know it is late but I hope not too late. I have been seeing some untitled articles by YY, in my Google Reader which has an RSS feed to “The Outburst”. I pleasantly assumed that they are last ditch efforts to save the blog akin to reviving a failing heart by defibrillation, only distinction being that the entries were not shocking enough unlike the therapy. But today I found out that she has already left the sinking ship. Maybe the entries were not supposed to be for The Outburst. She entered them there by mistake. I may be wrong, but if I am correct I am just hoping that YY is not a doctor. I asked myself,” Y is YY trying to reYive a dead blog?” (If you don’t like the joke, please don’t kill yourself. Just think of the countless SMSes you read daily, please forgive me and move on. There is no more of such stuff I promise.)

ZZ, I know I also could have saved the blog but not to shift blame on you, let me remark that spurts of creativity, wordplay come to you more often and faster than they do to me, that way you are more responsible than me. I always felt that you would nurture this blog as your own child. This reminds me that you once said that you wanted to raise a puppy, now I strongly recommend against it.

R.I.P the Outburst, you will be solely missed.

Obvious? Not (at all)

Life is far from obvious. Actually obscurity is one of the few facets of life that scares me the most. Reason for this is that the obscurity of life is so obscure that it is too complicated to be just obscure. My attempt to deciphering the so-called obscure facets have ended in dismal failure.

I wish to go on. But the obscurity that has been shrouding every day and every thought of mine, is going to be there even tomorrow. And the day after that. And then the day after that. I wish to be fully prepared to face it, mentally as well as physically. That demands adequate sleep. So bed is where I am going to.

I am going to write as soon as I am clear enough to characterize the aforementioned obscurity of life. And my post will be appropriately titled as "Obscurity of Life".

Somebody rightly said about life. There is more to it than meets the eye!

Obvious Not

Lets find a way out of the obvious. jobs, pleasures, relations, thoughts, emotions, blogs, posts, reactions, food, words, desires.
Life. Is it too obvious to live?

Imagining confusion

There it is. Looks good. That doesn't look bad either. The lingering smell of it fills the room. Even before the fire lights it. That is still put, in its case. Shining and ready to be taken. The fragrance pervades, though not as strong.

The first ones. A rush of blood. A rush of blood, did I say that already. Of course I did. That enters the nasopharynx passing hrough the glottis into the trachea. Bronchioles next, and finally into a cluster of alveoli. A tad confusing to delve deeper. Wouldn't I have explained it otherwise?

The first ones. It just slides in. Difficult to begin with. Easy now.

This thought has an origin. The origin of this thought. The origin of any thought. It lies somewhere here though it lies in past. The rivulet flows down and the landscape twists and turns it to create a pattern in the flow. The landscape is the past. The rivulet is the thought. This constant fear of having missed something makes me sure about the fallibility of it.

Shall we dance. I have nimble feet, now. Nothing special. The wretched retch. And a little less conversation. A little more action.

Slumber. Fatigue. And a big sea of thought in between. Numbness. I hate it now.