Archive for December, 2005

December 24th, 2005

What is a Chemistry Professor?

Posted in Excerpts by duh nston

But why do the fittest survive? Why does any life survive? It’s illogical. It’s self-contradictory that life should survive. If life is strictly a result of the physical and chemical forces of nature then why is life opposed to these same forces in its struggle to survive? Either life is with physical nature or it’s against it. More

December 24th, 2005

Surprise

Posted in Figments, Kunal Goel by Kunal Goel

You doing something?
Yeah!
What?
Surprise.
Oh!

More

December 23rd, 2005

About Failure

Posted in Quotes by duh nston

Dear Ndugu,

I am weak and I am a failure. There’s just no getting around it. Relatively soon, I will die. More

December 23rd, 2005

3310

Posted in Kunal Goel, Short stories by Kunal Goel

Ishan: I can write a story on anything.
Payal: Anything?
Ishan: Absolutely anything.
Payal: My cell phone?
Ishan: 3310?
Payal: Yes.
Ishan: Ok I’ll write.

More

December 22nd, 2005

Words

Posted in Quotes by duh nston

I could forever talk to you, but soon my words would turn into a meaningless ring, ’cause deep in my heart I know there’s no help I can bring.

-Bob Dylan

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December 22nd, 2005

Levis Lives

Posted in Neha Jhingon, Thoughts by Neha

I see the huge hoarding of a semi naked woman glaring from behind messy locks of golden hair. It screams out. “Are you in the loop?”

The loop, I laugh out aloud. Momentarily losing sight of the road. It’s wickedly funny that she’d ask me that. I spent all my life (though 21 years is not all that much) running around in circles. Wanting things. Waiting for them More

December 22nd, 2005

All You who Sleep Tonight

Posted in Poems by Kunal Goel

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

More

December 21st, 2005

of madness

Posted in Thoughts, duh nston by duh nston

of what consequence is a deranged mind? when placed against the background of madness, things appear eerily clear. all ambiguity clears itself out like the new and unimproved xp trash can. More

December 21st, 2005

Sell Crazy

Posted in Quotes by Neha

If you wanna sell crazy, try somewhere else. We’re all stocked up here.

-Jack Nicholson (As Good As It Gets)

December 21st, 2005

The Royalty

Posted in Figments, Neha Jhingon by Neha

A blank night… A placid host for impatient lovers. Giggles in the darkness… Silence… Sobs…
Dogs barking playfully, chasing shadows in the allies, rambling on the streets. Their kingdom for the night.
You lay awake, sleep flirting with you, teasing you, luring you. You wait for your nightmares to shake you into wakefulness. The air is too heavy More

December 21st, 2005

Mera Kuchh Samaan

Posted in Excerpts, Hindi, Songs by Kunal Goel

Mera Kuchh Samaan by Gulzar

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December 20th, 2005

One card from Michael Harvey’s White Papers

Posted in Excerpts by Kunal Goel

the practice comma art comma method comma or system of inserting points or open single quote periods closed single quote to aide the sense comma in writing More

December 19th, 2005

21 August 2012, 1:29 a.m.

Posted in Dear Diary, Figments, Neha Jhingon by Neha

Dear Diary

Mom always told me to be careful of men. She told me I should make a prudent choice when the time came. I see him sleeping besides me and I feel sorry that I didn’t listen to her back then. Of all the things she used to say, I regret not having listened to this particular advice.

When my sister got married, we were all very happy for her. They seemed to be in love. 2 months later, she said to me - don’t marry the worst mistake More

December 18th, 2005

Dear Fred

Posted in Thoughts, duh nston by duh nston

..and what of people? There is always the need for external stimulus. It runs parallel to all forms of introspection. If there were only one man on earth, he wouldn’t have to read a book to understand the universe. He’d know. More

December 18th, 2005

In Praise of My Sister

Posted in Poems by Kunal Goel

My sister doesn’t write poems,
and it’s unlikely that she’ll suddenly start writing poems.
She takes after her mother, who didn’t write poems,
and also her father, who likewise didn’t write poems.
I feel safe beneath my sister’s roof:
my sister’s husband would rather die than write poems.
And, even though this is starting to sound as
repetitive as Peter Piper,
the truth is, none of my relatives write poems.

More