Temper Tantrum
I had decided to take a hiatus from writing. What is the reason to litter all this space with countless alphabets, innumerable sentences, syntaxes, commas, apostrophes and all? I have been a strong believer in words but slowly my confidence in them is dying down. “Is it the nerves again?” asks Tess. I don’t know what to reply to her.
I have almost severed my ties with the society. No more tea parties, no one is invited for supper….. All these omnivores come, languish in my life but I don’t wish to have them around me anymore. I haven’t talked to Neil in 10 days.
I don’t miss him. I started feeling as if I was loosing my self respect. Lately Neil has started loving food far more then anything else. It was time to drop him from my life; I can’t love someone who has all their dedication, love and wait reserved for food. Gluttony is what I call it. He sits there on a Chinese buffet table devouring every piece of chicken he can find, the black hole of greed starts to yap its long red tongue on seeing pork. The tongue yaps out every once in a while to feel the taste on the lips, out, yap, loud and then the long red tongue goes back in to the closet shaped mouth trying to secrete and spill juices over the medium-rare steak. The gobble and gabble over meatloaf is too excruciating for me. For one second it never dawns to him that at least 4 lives are sacrificed every day to add to his 300 lb frame.
Have you ever seen a chicken dying: you know it starts to flutter its wings, it tries to escape form the clutches of the hands of the human. It feels the same way when someone pulls you from hair. You try to run away from your perpetrator and somehow survive. But so few cows, pigs, chickens, deer, sheeps, quails and all have as much luck as we all have. Those creatures are destined to come to our plates making countable more Neils and his likes. Animals can also feel pain; they feel the same love as we all do. My sweet pea, Tess is the example. For one moment I can’t see her suffer the pain. You know my effervescent doll hides on hearing loud noises, same noises which I dare say can also scare countless pheasants, cows, elephants and all on hearing the loud squeals and pitches of one of their own dying for the altars of human palette. When I was a kid, around 12, I guess, my grand ma, once took me to this ashram in Gujrat about Gandhi. We stayed there for about two months in summer. I remember learning to spin my own cloth. Those were the fun 2 months of life: the summer was very hot, food was vegetarian, every one languished on the floors, the place was clean, there was so much to read with soothing music. I guess thats why I still like to reproduce the same: languishing on the floors, wearing cotton, loving nature and reading.
I don’t wish to ignite an argument about meat eating and all. This is my opinion. I don’t like people who cherish eating meat. I prefer people who tend to avoid eating it. For me the choice of eating meat is giving way to violence and inequality in a democratic society. It’s a sign of being impulsive in culinary decisions. Yes, I agree that nature, evolution or god (what ever you like to call) has given us teeth to eat meat and all those frivolous remarks but nature has also given us choice, a sense of decision making. A decision which I dare say will save life. Of course it goes without saying that economy lovers/ cooperate whores like to see me burn on stake because you see according to their asinine reasoning, poultry industry employs so many people, its livelihood of so many families and so on. But dear, so does prostitution. The oldest, quickest profession is still illegal. It employs so many, it feeds so many more but still is not as lucrative as killing animals for our digestive system.
Digestive system which I am bound to tell you is weeping in you right now. The excess meat eating which a lot of us indulge in leads to a tempestuous and tormentous defecation. Our spirit does have a hard time coping with the torture we all are exposing our body to by eating all this meat.
A few days ago I got my tooth extracted and the pain and agony I felt reminded me of what elephants must feel when some Nazi decides to convert those tusks to a necklace to decorate the bosom of a woman.
I am informed every day by the society that I have freedom of speech but it doesn’t make any sense to me. I am not free, I have no freedoms, I am a slave to these cooperative whores, to these Minotaurs who have chained themselves to the gizmos (computers and all). These swines charge us for paper, ink, telephone and what not, and here I believed that I have freedom of speech. Dear if the very tools of that speech are inaccessible why to bother to bask in the glory of misinformation that I have freedom of speech.
“Chaine se hum ko kabhi, aap ne jeene na diya,
Zeehar bhi chaha agar, peena to peene na diya.”
I have all my life lived in consolations of equality, democracy and freedom, now it seems that some ‘prude of a petticoat’ have put conditions and clauses on my rights. I will not sit like an inky little slack and let someone rob me of my very basic rights. I will protest, I will not let some impietous being dictate me how to exercise my rights. These bootlickers who dictate all of us about our rights. These people are the enemies of our democratic rights, these libidinous, lecherous omnivores who control us can lick my rectum. I don’t give a flying fuck. I still will say that I don’t have a freedom of speech because my freedom is pinned by taxes, fees etc. The price of my ‘right to freedom’ is dictated by some bull semen drinking uxorious beings, sitting in their air conditioned rooms with their eyes glazed to the gizmos they calculate using some incomprehensible formulas they decide the price of life, of freedom, of equality and living.
O’ mother, mother make my bed,
O make it soft and narrow,
For my true love died for me today,
I’ll die for him tomorrow.
I am glad; I took a break from all these people. I clutter my days in a hot house, sipping tea with scones and clotted cream, taking long baths,painiting my nails, arranging flowers, writing in the black diary, free flowing cotton clothes (no child labour used), reading Tolstoy and revising my knowldge of Naom Chomsky. Yes, people, I am gay and I have every right to practice my life-style in H No. 97. You see I buy this freedom at a monthly rent of $460 and not to mention electric and gas. If any one has problems with this, they can lick their middle finger and please insert it in your anus to excite your prostate. I still hold the resentment against that indian lady who looked at me with utter disgust when I told her about my sexuality. That stupid bovine. One minute she was all in awe of me and my knowledge and a second later I was not an oxbridge educated human but some ugly mythical monster.
Letter are piling in the study and tomorrow I will have to write cheques for all these concubines like electric company, housing people and all.
But the good news is, I have planted my own basil and now my basil garlic pasta will have organic, home-grown basil in it. It is indeed a relief.
I have almost severed my ties with the society. No more tea parties, no one is invited for supper….. All these omnivores come, languish in my life but I don’t wish to have them around me anymore. I haven’t talked to Neil in 10 days.
I don’t miss him. I started feeling as if I was loosing my self respect. Lately Neil has started loving food far more then anything else. It was time to drop him from my life; I can’t love someone who has all their dedication, love and wait reserved for food. Gluttony is what I call it. He sits there on a Chinese buffet table devouring every piece of chicken he can find, the black hole of greed starts to yap its long red tongue on seeing pork. The tongue yaps out every once in a while to feel the taste on the lips, out, yap, loud and then the long red tongue goes back in to the closet shaped mouth trying to secrete and spill juices over the medium-rare steak. The gobble and gabble over meatloaf is too excruciating for me. For one second it never dawns to him that at least 4 lives are sacrificed every day to add to his 300 lb frame.
Have you ever seen a chicken dying: you know it starts to flutter its wings, it tries to escape form the clutches of the hands of the human. It feels the same way when someone pulls you from hair. You try to run away from your perpetrator and somehow survive. But so few cows, pigs, chickens, deer, sheeps, quails and all have as much luck as we all have. Those creatures are destined to come to our plates making countable more Neils and his likes. Animals can also feel pain; they feel the same love as we all do. My sweet pea, Tess is the example. For one moment I can’t see her suffer the pain. You know my effervescent doll hides on hearing loud noises, same noises which I dare say can also scare countless pheasants, cows, elephants and all on hearing the loud squeals and pitches of one of their own dying for the altars of human palette. When I was a kid, around 12, I guess, my grand ma, once took me to this ashram in Gujrat about Gandhi. We stayed there for about two months in summer. I remember learning to spin my own cloth. Those were the fun 2 months of life: the summer was very hot, food was vegetarian, every one languished on the floors, the place was clean, there was so much to read with soothing music. I guess thats why I still like to reproduce the same: languishing on the floors, wearing cotton, loving nature and reading.
I don’t wish to ignite an argument about meat eating and all. This is my opinion. I don’t like people who cherish eating meat. I prefer people who tend to avoid eating it. For me the choice of eating meat is giving way to violence and inequality in a democratic society. It’s a sign of being impulsive in culinary decisions. Yes, I agree that nature, evolution or god (what ever you like to call) has given us teeth to eat meat and all those frivolous remarks but nature has also given us choice, a sense of decision making. A decision which I dare say will save life. Of course it goes without saying that economy lovers/ cooperate whores like to see me burn on stake because you see according to their asinine reasoning, poultry industry employs so many people, its livelihood of so many families and so on. But dear, so does prostitution. The oldest, quickest profession is still illegal. It employs so many, it feeds so many more but still is not as lucrative as killing animals for our digestive system.
Digestive system which I am bound to tell you is weeping in you right now. The excess meat eating which a lot of us indulge in leads to a tempestuous and tormentous defecation. Our spirit does have a hard time coping with the torture we all are exposing our body to by eating all this meat.
A few days ago I got my tooth extracted and the pain and agony I felt reminded me of what elephants must feel when some Nazi decides to convert those tusks to a necklace to decorate the bosom of a woman.
I am informed every day by the society that I have freedom of speech but it doesn’t make any sense to me. I am not free, I have no freedoms, I am a slave to these cooperative whores, to these Minotaurs who have chained themselves to the gizmos (computers and all). These swines charge us for paper, ink, telephone and what not, and here I believed that I have freedom of speech. Dear if the very tools of that speech are inaccessible why to bother to bask in the glory of misinformation that I have freedom of speech.
“Chaine se hum ko kabhi, aap ne jeene na diya,
Zeehar bhi chaha agar, peena to peene na diya.”
I have all my life lived in consolations of equality, democracy and freedom, now it seems that some ‘prude of a petticoat’ have put conditions and clauses on my rights. I will not sit like an inky little slack and let someone rob me of my very basic rights. I will protest, I will not let some impietous being dictate me how to exercise my rights. These bootlickers who dictate all of us about our rights. These people are the enemies of our democratic rights, these libidinous, lecherous omnivores who control us can lick my rectum. I don’t give a flying fuck. I still will say that I don’t have a freedom of speech because my freedom is pinned by taxes, fees etc. The price of my ‘right to freedom’ is dictated by some bull semen drinking uxorious beings, sitting in their air conditioned rooms with their eyes glazed to the gizmos they calculate using some incomprehensible formulas they decide the price of life, of freedom, of equality and living.
O’ mother, mother make my bed,
O make it soft and narrow,
For my true love died for me today,
I’ll die for him tomorrow.
I am glad; I took a break from all these people. I clutter my days in a hot house, sipping tea with scones and clotted cream, taking long baths,painiting my nails, arranging flowers, writing in the black diary, free flowing cotton clothes (no child labour used), reading Tolstoy and revising my knowldge of Naom Chomsky. Yes, people, I am gay and I have every right to practice my life-style in H No. 97. You see I buy this freedom at a monthly rent of $460 and not to mention electric and gas. If any one has problems with this, they can lick their middle finger and please insert it in your anus to excite your prostate. I still hold the resentment against that indian lady who looked at me with utter disgust when I told her about my sexuality. That stupid bovine. One minute she was all in awe of me and my knowledge and a second later I was not an oxbridge educated human but some ugly mythical monster.
Letter are piling in the study and tomorrow I will have to write cheques for all these concubines like electric company, housing people and all.
But the good news is, I have planted my own basil and now my basil garlic pasta will have organic, home-grown basil in it. It is indeed a relief.