agreeable

every night i fall asleep hoping not to wake up
every morning i wake up
i wish that would stop happening

beep beep

[Jaya R] what's this beeping noise?
[Belial] who knows
[paroma] dunno..i hope my deadlne is met first
[Swati] r u smoking ??????
[Elvira] basils phone
[Abhishek] Can't hear anything here.
[Swati] its a smoke alarm
[Dan] must be the smoke alarm

the picture of dorian gray

“The story is simply this,” said the painter after some time. “Two months ago I went to a crush at Lady Brandon’s. You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. With an evening coat and a white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized. Well, after I had been in the room about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious Academicians, I suddenly became conscious that some one was looking at me. I turned halfway round, and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then—but I don’t know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do it: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.”

“Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all.”

“I don’t believe that, Harry, and I don’t believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive—and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud—I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. ‘You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?’ she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?”

“Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,” said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long, nervous fingers.

- Oscar Wilde; from The Picture of Dorian Gray

i put your picture away

dear rucha and cora.

your replacements have arrived.
come back and kill them all.

eternally yours.
j.

segue

segue:
se·gue
intr.v. se·gued, se·gue·ing, se·gues
Music. To make a transition directly from one section or theme to another.
To move smoothly and unhesitatingly from one state, condition, situation, or element to another: "the imperial march segued into a wicked jam".

i'm really very proud of neil.
bought some roses and threw them at him (good group-e).

they played some floyd, peral jam, nirvana, radiohead, coldplay, mr. big, extreme, the cranberries, audioslave, RHCP, ozzy, manson, staind, oasis, doors, system of a down, limp bizkit, green day, alanis and tracy.

scientist by neil-e baby was fucking stunning..
and the chic sang the bestest cranberries cover i ever did hear..
and roadhouse blues was....ah well...bring on the praises.

and their original (butterfingers) was a sweet madrasi boy song..

i'm glad neil leads this alternative life.
i don't know why i like neil so much. but i do.

very yummy

so i was set up last night. with a sweet sindhi boy (courtesy ru and arch)
so we go to copper chimney...for some arabian night thing..
it goes well...i end up having some either six or ten odd vodka shots
and while he is in the loo, i type out this msg "very yummy. i'm a little high". and instead of sending it to veena, i send it to mahesh (the sweet (yummy) sindhi boy).
so he gets out of the loo, reads his msg and bursts out laughing. i could have died! (i sound like such a chic - it's becoming) so after making the biggest to hell ass of myself, the rest of the evening went well. we might meet for a play on thursday. but i'm not so sure.

i don't think i'm interested in men anymore. i don't know if it's just men or just men. i don't know. i haven't changed orientation or anything. i just haven't met any heart-fluttering people for a while now. (however, sonal from sat-night-party was very heart-fluttery). so i can't figure what's up in my head.

mahesh would make a nice hang out buddy though. i could do with one of those. ah well.

amongst other things. i think nash has completely abandoned me. which is just me being whiny. and there is just no thought of complaining possible (since rishi). this (jealous) thought is sick - i know. i hate this fucking feeling. i'm becoming a veena. maybe a little worse than a veena. anyway.

nikis wedding plans are underway (i keep using this shit editing lingo). the mails between her and dad should be compliled into a comic_wedding book. the wedding is going to start at some odd 5:30 am. ha ha. this should be fun.

tonight neil is going to play at jazz by the bay. so we're going to see him.
rotten underwear.