A whistle in the ear
I know how I want my life to be. Jobless.
I want a job that will let me sit at home, sleep when I want to and let me do anything I please.
I'll wake up at whatever time I want. I'll make my daily visit to soccernet. Then follows opening up my mailbox to group spam and a few emails. Got milk and a rub on the teeth later I'll make Wai Wai noodles or that horrible horrible vegetable soup recipe off the net.
I'll watch some boring b-grade western movie on tv and fall asleep in the afternoon. Later in the evening I'll get a call from my equally jobless friend/wife karthik and we'll go over to the lake to reduce our lifespan by another 4 minutes with conversations that get invented in a moment by moment sequence.
I don't want to be rich or famous or stuff like that. I just need enough money to keep me alive and maybe keep me from getting bored.
I'll have a dog, maybe a St. Bernard or a lab or a dog from the streets of shame. We'll both grow old watching Aria Giovanni.
And since I won't be rich I should only be able to afford a weekly or fortnightly visit to the pub to drink 660ml of that horrible horrible KF beah. Maybe I'll waste 12 minutes of my life on every such visit.
And since I won't be famous I'll do anything I want and probably get away with it.
I'll grow long hair and a long beard which will stay as long as a receeding hairline shall permit. I won't wash it for months. I like the hardness of dirty hair. I promise to be clean otherwise.
One day out of the blue I'll go join the gym. I'll work my ass off for 3 months. Suddenly I'll quit and I'll spend the next 9 months planning to rejoin the gym.
Fact: A fag reduces your life by 4 minutes.
I'll drive a car for as long and as fast as it can go. Speed is freedom of the soul.
I'll make new friends and I'll lose them not because I'm bad but because I'm too lazy. I hate phone conversations and I hate IMs too. Face to face conversation/silence rules for me anyday.
I'll listen to Metallica and I'll become Hatfield and then I'll be Slash and then Cobain. This imagination never ceases.
One day I'll outlive my dog and I'll have to bury it.
I'll get married to my sweetheart of four years and I'll have 4 kids. My sons Vodka, not named yet and Sitaiah and also a daughter I shall call Mary Jane. I need the marriage so that I can wear my suit.
My first two sons will be my gambling partners. We'll play poker all day long while my daughter cooks for us. My third son will be the champion bread winner. I'll save enough money to send him to the famous Ajax youth team. Chelsea will buy him on a free transfer and he'll wear out the number 8 shirt for the next 15 years. He will keep my brilliant legacy alive for generations to come. My boys can swim.
I'll write a book on life. It will probably bomb and I'll get back to playing poker with my kids.
I'll pass out when nobody is watching.
GOD turns the page on me and I'm the forgotten in a week.
My purpose was unknown but they will light the pyre anyway.
Burn baby burn
I want a job that will let me sit at home, sleep when I want to and let me do anything I please.
I'll wake up at whatever time I want. I'll make my daily visit to soccernet. Then follows opening up my mailbox to group spam and a few emails. Got milk and a rub on the teeth later I'll make Wai Wai noodles or that horrible horrible vegetable soup recipe off the net.
I'll watch some boring b-grade western movie on tv and fall asleep in the afternoon. Later in the evening I'll get a call from my equally jobless friend/wife karthik and we'll go over to the lake to reduce our lifespan by another 4 minutes with conversations that get invented in a moment by moment sequence.
I don't want to be rich or famous or stuff like that. I just need enough money to keep me alive and maybe keep me from getting bored.
I'll have a dog, maybe a St. Bernard or a lab or a dog from the streets of shame. We'll both grow old watching Aria Giovanni.
And since I won't be rich I should only be able to afford a weekly or fortnightly visit to the pub to drink 660ml of that horrible horrible KF beah. Maybe I'll waste 12 minutes of my life on every such visit.
And since I won't be famous I'll do anything I want and probably get away with it.
I'll grow long hair and a long beard which will stay as long as a receeding hairline shall permit. I won't wash it for months. I like the hardness of dirty hair. I promise to be clean otherwise.
One day out of the blue I'll go join the gym. I'll work my ass off for 3 months. Suddenly I'll quit and I'll spend the next 9 months planning to rejoin the gym.
Fact: A fag reduces your life by 4 minutes.
I'll drive a car for as long and as fast as it can go. Speed is freedom of the soul.
I'll make new friends and I'll lose them not because I'm bad but because I'm too lazy. I hate phone conversations and I hate IMs too. Face to face conversation/silence rules for me anyday.
I'll listen to Metallica and I'll become Hatfield and then I'll be Slash and then Cobain. This imagination never ceases.
One day I'll outlive my dog and I'll have to bury it.
I'll get married to my sweetheart of four years and I'll have 4 kids. My sons Vodka, not named yet and Sitaiah and also a daughter I shall call Mary Jane. I need the marriage so that I can wear my suit.
My first two sons will be my gambling partners. We'll play poker all day long while my daughter cooks for us. My third son will be the champion bread winner. I'll save enough money to send him to the famous Ajax youth team. Chelsea will buy him on a free transfer and he'll wear out the number 8 shirt for the next 15 years. He will keep my brilliant legacy alive for generations to come. My boys can swim.
I'll write a book on life. It will probably bomb and I'll get back to playing poker with my kids.
I'll pass out when nobody is watching.
GOD turns the page on me and I'm the forgotten in a week.
My purpose was unknown but they will light the pyre anyway.
Burn baby burn