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Siddharth's Daily (μ/micro)Blog

aspiring advocate or something

Month

July 2014

adult tastes

There’s been a few thing happening. I think I’ve mentioned before how I love some things about adulthood. The rules of accepted etiquette make it extremely simple to interact with people and be social, compared to the maelstrom of adolescence where everything is unclear and some people are adults and some are not and you’re not sure about exactly what you’re supposed to do in a given situation in terms of how to respond and what level of initiative might be required.

I’ve got this smell in my nose. An awfully strong smell that makes periodical appearances whenever a blockade of a nostril occurs. And so it is in this case. Reminds me of the times spent playing GTA Advance, during which time I suffered from a similarly malfunctioning olfactory system as well.

EZEKIEL M-F-R! DO YOU KNOW IT!

One of the more horrible parts of adulthood is the set of requirements for enjoyment and celebration. Pretension seems to be one of the main ingredients, which is wholly annoying. Is it the pretension that requires alcohol, or does one breed the other? Not something to figure out today.

I will never like Delhi more than Bangalore. But i will concede that the former has got one thing over the latter. Bangalore is a hell of a lot more pretentious, make no mistake. Only in Bangalore will you find a guy bothered by a beggar building up the intention and putting in extra effort to scream “Fuck off” at him. Or indeed have a group of four people stop dead in their tracks when splashed on by a car on a moving puddle to shout — and compete with each other in increasingly hysterical tones — about how each of their pants was spoiled worse than the others’. Atleast in Delhi the reaction in that scenario is one I’d more heartily relate to: no doubt it’d be a terrific scream of “SAALE BHENCHODH” and perhaps other colourful additions in a similar vein.

The culture permeates to the cafes as well. Now look, I’m a fan of good design. It’s great when things look good, and when a place has a vibe or a theme completely pulled off. What borders on absolutely ridiculous however, is when these guys willingly choose to compromise on comfort or practicality in the pursuit of… good design? It can’t really qualify as ‘good design’ when the purpose of the object being designed is no longer served, can it? Form and function are supposed to go hand in hand. Which is why you don’t try to make a chair out of uneven and irregularly arranged strips of stone (Ants cafe), and also why you don’t replace a washroom mirror with smaller ones a face’s size each and place them in weird spots so that a guy can’t see his face in it when he’s standing in front of the wash basin (Church Street Social). Props to both places for other elements though – the paper cups were an interesting touch, as were the actual ants on the table (?) as was the menu box made of wooden rulers. Alas, the music played at grungy establishments like the latter will not suit my taste for this lifetime, I fear.

Hey. So this is me running down the road with my tongue on fire. Why is my tongue on fire? That’s a relevant question. It came about when I was flushing out m neighbour’s lawns

today. 3rd of july, two thousand and fourteen.

There are times. At these times, I know. I know the truth. I don’t need anyone to tell me. I don’t need anyone to explain the nature of life, existence, truth or my self to me. I know. I know that I will suffer. I know that I will be miserable for the duration of my life. I know that there is absolutely no escape from it, and that nothing I do can change it. I can suffer and agonize and manifest my misery in different ways and in different circumstances and through different actions, but the amount and magnitude of the suffering and misery, the quantum of it, as it were, is not something that I will ever influence or even be able to. This is the truth. It does not matter whether I realize it, it does not matter whether I have even an inkling of it, and it does not matter whether I at all respect it. It is the truth, and the truth will prevail. I do not say this in a fit of self tortured misery. I do not say this out of depression. I do not say this out of a twisted, masochistic form of self-glorification (to the best of my knowledge).
There are moments when you predict some things, and you feel a calm acceptance of its truth. A small example of the same is the Nadal-Kyrgios match that took place during the period that I worked on this. I realize that some might call it a ‘gut feeling’, but if anything it’s exactly the absence of a gut feeling that describes this for me. The calm sense of knowledge, of assurance, of sheer mundane acceptance, that accompanies a prediction that the sun will rise in the east (which isn’t something I’ve ever verified, but there you go). This is what accompanies the element in my mind which makes these predictions. I don’t question it. I hardly respond to it apart from acknowledging its existence. This lack of reaction of course being part of the larger lack of any substantive reaction to the thought, of course.
FAILURE FAILURE FAILURE! MISERY MISERY MISERY! DECIEPT DECIEPT DECIEPT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SCHADENFREUDE! SCHADENFREUDE! piss

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