The midsummer night mis-dreams
First of all...here are some of my favorite flickr flicks under the tag "darkness"
Now for my midsummer night mis-dreams. It happened like 2 days ago or something, I try not to recall the exact moment. We were just recovering from a 5hr long load-shedding (I don't know why, but all the load seems to be concentrated in/around the puran dhaka area..as a result "hell" ensues). I had just started to feel sleepy and had to lay off "Asmani Parda" by Abul Monsur Ahmed (which just happens to be on of my favorite novels). Suddenly, "POOF" the electricity is gone..again...like ঘষেটি বেগম (ghoseti begum) and her infamous betrayal it seemed luck had betrayed me, once again. It was indeed a restless night, not even a single breeze with the lowest nautical pressure was present, the warmth wasn't "Heart warming", it was more like "do you want your epidermal tissue medium rare or well done?" I couldn't sleep, couldn't turn around, I was sweating not like a pig but almost certainly like a gutted/skinned one (although, for the sake of context, that might be pure blood). I couldn't get out of the Moshari, there were so called arthropods roaming around with blood sucking needles and hoards of fatal diseases. My mind stood astill thinking, "God has a plan for everyone, then I must've been plan-B" (ok so this joke was jacked from an episode of Southpark, what?). I was also trying to sooth my already sweaty-as-coke-on-mentos skin while cursing every single govt official and utility engineer I can think of ; there were tears of joy thinking "Hey probably at this very moment, some current/ex secretary/joint-secretary/his-chakor/chakrani are having a lavish ball/party/marriage/ceremony in Senakunjo with hundreds/thousands of wattage being wasted on lighting and air-condition. Maybe a rich official's uber obnoxious wife is talking about her new wardobe of chinon sarees, maybe some rich dude with a hair like "Lucas Rossi" from Rockstart Supernova is talking about how his (class 8 passed) industrialist dad bought him a new custom silencer for his newly acquired hyundai with nitrous boost"....and so on. Then I though, this is going no where..all this has done so far is to make me even more sweaty and therfore put me in morbid discomfort. I tried to reason with myself and reached the conclusion that there are loads of son-of-a-canine out there currently living a far worse life than mine, so if they can go on being screwed in such ways for so long a time..why can't I? Maybe someday I can create a brain-manipulation chip that would simulate the kind of torture every bangalee has to go through everyday, I can try to implant that on the gray matter of the dudes/dames running this pothole we call "Bangladesh" and then systematically force them to an act of suicide....perhaps then they can get an idea of the fact that "There is not supposed to be any Toyota Escalade on the streets of a third world country...no, there ain't. But in BD there are...and in plenty"
Finally check out psychedelic hallucination video, best SG1/Mac-Gyver prank out there (for the Mac-Gyver fans) and also Whiteninja's wishlist