Involuntary Blogging Syndrome:

I seriously have a problem - I'm presently quite addicted to blogging. What started out as a mild stretch of the creative muscles on the 24th of May has evolved into a full fledged desire to pour out every bit of the inane, pointless, historic, poetic and psychotic bits of information I have tumbling in my head like a drunk Verne Troyer in a malfunctioning washing machine. I have a series of PhD interviews in the next 3 days, and all I can think about while revising the physics material I have gone over and over and over and over and over (you get the message) ...again is, "gee, I wonder if writing about these series of incidents/ideas/wishes would be a good post. Yes, I can structure it like this and that... and that's a good start. And I can count on myself to evolve the writing style as I go along, quite spontaneously". Pathetic. I have lost my f'ing mind. I couldn't have given a rat's ass about this for almost three years, and now, after finding it amusing to post 4 posts on a given day after a long hiatus... I've got to say, the rabbit is, fucking, out of the hat! Or rather I should say the gerbil is out my ass... and he's Fa-laaaaaaaming! (I did eat some pretty spicy chilli last night... I guess that explains it...) .... AAAAHHH! What the fuck am I doing? I'm doing my usual shit again! I'm converting the cliched "rabbit in a hat thing" into a "gay gerbil in a straight man's ass" thing. Fucking me! Fucking LEMMIWINKS!

*Thinks to himself - "Cool it Lupine, cool it. Breathe. You're just being a bit random. That hasn't happened since a while so it's...oh shit. Oh Shit! Oh fuck..."*

Oh fuck. I just realized I am morphing into a tribrid version of my very,very old e-form of a random word twisting line factory, my more recent e-form of being an insult machine of a comment factory (i.e. LupineLooPine), and my actual spontaneous vivid imaginer of crazy things. This stupid fucking blog exercise has opened up Mandora's Cox!


FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! I'm SCREWED! Is anyone out there an unregistered BD? I know you BD's are full of BS (like quite a lot of MD's), but I'm willing to listen to any solutions to this .... this... disease.

Ok Lupine. Stop. Think. You haven't hit publish yet. It's not too late. You can still undo this! Don't hit publish! You don't need to re-enact the scene from basketball diaries and have a black man stop you from blogging while you scream that you need to... and then get cured after a week. Yes... type some more, it's all good. Let it out. Good boy Lupine, ... good boy. Just , don't, hit "you know what". For you. For me. For our schizophrenic werewolf self. There you go.... nice and easy. Back away. And ... don't hit pub..

It's official. This is the greatest comedy video ever.

I've watched this video now... probably 25 times over the past 5 years. It has always made me laugh. When I watched Colbert's White House Correspondents dinner a looooong while back, and some of his shows after... I thought that even if I ever "cracked down" on comedy... if I REALLY had to that is, I could never ever think about bringing out humour in the wordy contrast in quite the way he manages to. The same holds true for a couple of bits and styles of other comedians that I've appreciated since my childhood. Well... as I've grown older, and consequently smarter and more observant, I don't think that it would be so impossible. But one thing IS for sure. No matter what I could have ever done.. or ever do, I could NEVER produce something as wonderfully hilarious as "Reh Dogg"'s - "Why must I cry". I have recommended this video time and again to people I know in person and online, at least those I thought that could truly appreciate the brilliance. The time has come for me to share it here, on this blog. It is a masterclass of pure unadulterated humour; a work of pure genius, even if the author may not have realized so at the time. Such a perfect confluence of subjects, objects and themes, and such a near perfect ridiculous contrast of "actual versus intentional", shall perhaps never ever be achieved again by the human race. Reh Dogg... I "bow" ,before thee. You do make me cry, with laughter... every single time I watch this Kohinoor diamond of a video.

Yes, that's right people. You saw correctly. That was a man, crying and lathering himself up in the shower.... with a loofah... singing "why must I cry", while crying .... for 4 minutes! Did you hear the "boo-hoo-hoo"'s at 1:19 and 3:40? Did you see the "bad ass" gun loading at 1:44? Did you hear the lyrics? When, I ask you, when has something containing so many things that are just so wrong, produced something so very, very right? Do you still think I overplayed the genius card? Just think about it ... if you can! I tried,... and it blew my mind! I still haven't found it...

Dear Allahabad

Oh... I'm in such a giving mood today! I wrote the following poem a week ago, after one of the worst travel experiences of my life finally ended. It was in a "city" in India called Allahabad, a hot, horrid place, with terribly undeveloped.... everything, especially roads, virtually no traffic signals, and some of the worst "hotels" you can possibly imagine. You literally cannot travel 750 meters in the "city" without seeing at least 3 cows (I checked... I'm serious). It has hideous traffic problems, and it was worse than Dhaka as far as what I saw from both cities... and Dhaka in Bangladesh as some of you may know, is the most densely populated place in the world, with probably the worst traffic jams. For me, Allahabad was worse. It has nothing to do with density, it's just that their roads are thinner than pubic hairs. Annnyway, in other news, Allahabad suffered a tragedy yesterday (as of this writing) in a bomb being exploded in a slum area,... and 4 or 5 people died. So if you're from Allahabad and have stumbled here.... I do feel sorry for you, but I seriously hate your city. If you dislike me for this post, that's fine, but please... I insist, let it be for the content of my poisonous poem, and the aforementioned lines, and not for the timing of this post. I'm a busy guy who forgets stuff... so I might forget to post this, and I really don't want to do that. So yeaaa... sorry for the timing, and for you living in such a shitty place.

So yes, I was there to attend an interview for an institute that I was shortlisted for. Unfortunately.... there was no accommodation provided, so we all had to fend for ourselves. Long story short, the first 24 hours in the city was really, really terrible. I hardly slept at all , I ate two samosas, and to travel to this institute by the only means of transport till there.... which is 20 kms from the main city, it takes a little over an hour due to miscellaneous reasons. I didn't get through by the way. My interview was good, but as the poem will reveal, my written test was done without sleep... which probably cost me my PhD from this place. This "place" by the way is one of the best in my country, and it's a tragedy that it's located in a festering hell hole. Without any further ado.... the poem (my attempt to find something silly and funny after an academic tragedy):

Oh Allahabad, you crappy hell ho',
A bovine slum more than an actual city,
Shoud've been clear from the get go,
that you were gonna be totally shitty

Landed in your domestic airport,
that really is a military base,
Can't handle more than a plane a day,
You don't even have baggage claim

Drove into the cursed center,
In a taxi that was a broken down van,
Once he let me know the rate per kilometer,
I thought "I'm gonna smack you, as hard as I can"

Couldn't find a place to stay,
'Cause it was wedding season,
Finally believed the lies of a cycling rick,
Come to think of it ... for no rhyme or reason

He got me booked in "Lakshmi Hotel",
Oh, how I wish now that I had thought some more,
It was so damn hot that I ended up taking,
a shower in a bathroom with no walls.. or door

The room I booked was supposed to have an air cooler,
Pity they didn't tell me that someone stole the fan,
After a night of baking heat, no food and constant yelling,
You bet your ass, in the morning I ran!

Went to the golden institute that called me,
Hosting interviews for the chosen few,
Asked them politely if they could have a room for me,
They said "Buddy, you're smart, but hey.. fuck you."

Now regrettably returning to my wretched room,
In an autorickshaw where there's no room to sit,
Reason being they fit 12 in a vehicle meant for 6,
The worst part - my face received someone elses spit

I so would have looked for another room,
But all I could do was crash in my own sweat,
It was 46 degrees centrigrade, 115 degrees fahrenheit,
A temperature at which you really wished for your death

4 hours of sweaty,restless sleep later,
I ran out again, I swear I could yell,
Traveled for 2 hours in desperation,
I finally found an actual hotel

I smiled and cried, and ran inside,
The a.c. filling me with joy and mirth,
Till I suddenly realized something,
That guaranteed me six feet under the earth

The golden institute had the test tomorrow,
And I haven't slept a decent wink,
I'd better pull off an all-nighter,
Or else they'll toss me like spunk from their slink

I'll cut to the chase, it was bearable from there,
And sadly, I did not get through,
But going back to Allahabad is something,
that being at gun point wouldn't get me to do.