- Kolkata, West Bengal, India
- A FLAPDOODLE ... A COPROLALOMANIAC ... A DOPPELGANGER ... a blog when written when deranged for a man to give one gyp and what a gyp with a gusto ... this blog a mistaken ladder furnishes its one carrying self-lagoon ... rotten blog holding a periapt to vomit to laugh and cry and shout and yell ... a preface to the birth of an ablazed moon ... all white all gay all blood all sand ...
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
Now if you ask me ‘what is truth’, first you need to understand that ‘truth’ is ‘the opposite of what seems to be the faCt’, and not ‘what seems to be the fact’. Man invents god to mAsk his excuses under the omnipotence of god. Gods reside iNside
his head. I have told the ‘cunt’ ¾ “You are a white lie.” Only a whore’s cUnt
is purely unClaimed. GOd’s Pocket has beEn
picked. I have no time noW to shoulder god’s corpse. KIss your concubine. Shed blood. Indoor game. OuTdoor game. Daffodils. Tulips. THe
day dawns. Semi-feudalisTic aristocracy is dead. Semi-feudalistic aristocracy never dies. Long live semi-feudalistic aristocracy. Even more dead tHan alivE
than usual. Beckett told that. SophistIcation is synonyMous to bourgeoisie. Hit below the belt. NoAh’s ark indeed is an instrumental scheme to annihilate the imperialistic paradiGm. CrimEland.
Addictionland. White bitches. Watchdogs. An unique blade. God’s semen contains nO sperms anymore. Situations vacant. Gravediggers wanted. Bullets are Free
from gender-biasness. Wipe out the drops of sweat from Your fOrehead. Cherish the sUnset. Feel the moistuRe
of yOur Wife’s cuNt
with Your urinal bludder. The peOple will do the rest. We will become the people. What if yoUr appendix bursts out one cruel ?
The lightposts at the stReet-crossings conspirE for A counter-revolution. All at . CigarEttes buRn themselves. Sartre Camus Adorno Foucoult Castro Lukacs Said Beckett Hawking!
All upstarts. Where exactlY is the center Of gravity of yoUr
scroTum? I Have already been warned. Now I vomIt. There are wolves at every corNer of the roads. The vigil is inescapable. Incubus is in charge tonight. Hang zoon politoKon.
Hang zeitgeist. Sex is sumptuous. More when catered. Wait. Don’t trY tO escape. Give me a cigarette. Give me the manifesto. OUrs
is A countRy whEre
we have pRinted M. K. Gandhi on thE five hundred rupee note. Munnabhai told that. Ours is A race of chameleons. Communism has lost amiDst the weeds of pubIc hair. Socialism is felt at public uriNals only. Between idea and reality falls the shadow. Invest body. Earn money. Invest money. Earn love. Claim freedom of free sex. You are the monarch of all you survey. You are a Global
ciTizen. The NeHrus. The GandhIs. The TataS.
The Birlas. The AmbaNis. The MIttals. The Bajajs. The Dawoods. The Bin Ladens. The
ClintOns. The Bushes. The Kennedys. The Fords. The Bachchans. The Khans. The KaPoors. The RAys. The Tagores. The Sarkars. BLissful exIstence. Peaceful co-exiStence. You are free. You are out of danger. Celebrate. Enter the ante-chamber. You are alone. I am Not alone. We are not alone. Is not she sweet? Make profit of her meat. Where have all the cerebral writers Gone?
This land is my land . . . your land. Which side aRe yOu oN? Crows are flyinG!
VultuRes Are flying! Who will dig The grave of capitalism? Do you know that JoHn Stuart Mill was defEated in the 1868 GReat
is the ideology of aNarchy. Cash Is the music of Labour in bOurgeois socieTy. It is inevitable for a culture to become bankruPt, when it is but A money-oriented cuLture; for no true culture, under no cIrcumstanceS, can ever be made a commodIty; and oNce you are raped by the bourGeois
culture, you get dehumanIzed. An artiSt’s
integRity is like a woman’s virginity; oncE lost, it cAn never be regaineD. Hemingway told that. Form of creatIve writing is form of life. SaNs story. Sans plot. Sans narration. Sans form. Assassin protaGonist.
Assassin antagonist. Let writing itself be attitude. Do not be content. Be audacious. Be anomalous. Be reactionarY. ModulatiOn of diction. The opportUnist’s
anus is always the Easiest to fuck. Do not be a Don QuiXote. Give blank cheque to none. The language of true creative writing must be Psychosomatic. It’s anti-aristOcratic, becauSe It’s Not neutral. A psychosomatic lanGuage
can never be neutral. It’s a corrosive language. Just like gasping. Rawness of language. NowadaYs a true penman need tO feel the bUrning waRmth
of the hot moon, to feel the Potency of fleShly voices that ask uneasY questions. IonesCo BurrougHs BaudelaIre JoyCe
Genet Eliot Nietzsche DalI NiloTpal RimbAud HegeL Sartre!