Friday, September 09, 2005

Dope 1

Was having alcohol today, when I realised that it does'nt do sqaut to me anymore. Sort of made me thnk fondly of the Pot experience, when I realised that I had'nt documented it anywhere. Hell, one does'nt want such things to be forgotten. Ofcourse this would be nowhere near blogging under dope, but then things of value are always in short supply. So I've decided to screw clause 1 of my blogging rules and go through with this.
I'll write in present tense. Aww.. fuck it, I'll just write it as it happened.
So, we're sitting around smoking this joint, I ofcourse was smoking in my usual style, as a result, taking in way more than the rest. It hits me. It starts of like a normal alcohol cum cigarrete high, that you guys will probably never experience, well maybe not, I might do a stop start kind of thing, what the hell, we might get religious someday, in which case if you manage to get out of it, religion I mean, it might happen for you again, anyway, where the fuck was I. Yeah, it started of as an normal alcohol and fag high magnified a couple of times. Ofcourse, that was only the beginning.
Suddenly I'm being pulled backward from the neck and I'm like soaring through the air. The amazing bit was that it felt so, in all possible ways that I could think of. I could feel air rushing across me. Hair all over my body is standing out, angled in front. Heck I could also, hear air gushing. I notice that this shit actually fucks with your hearing. More on this later. Visual senses unfortunately? are'nt fooled and you know your just sitting in a room. Anyway, this goes on for say five minutes, after which the downslide begins. By the way, during this time, my neck, where I'm being pulled from feels great, feels like it's being massaged and poked by a gazillion needles. I could swear that at this point, I was aware of every nerve ending in my body. Anyway, as I was saying, thats when the downslide began. This 'high area', forgive me, could'nt find a better term, this started shifting to the head reagion. This was nice for a while, but then I started being pulled from the head, as a result of which for some strange reason, I think that I had started falling. Thats when I decide to leave my host's room and go to my own. I'm escorted to my room by S.A, I've decided by the way, not to use other people's names by the way while blogging my experiences, sort of respect for their privacy. Yeah right, as if. Anyway, SA, he starts escorting me to the wing bathroom, when we do a sort of role reversal as he goes and pukes. Even in my own pot induced squalor, I 'what the hell' and laugh at the irony of the whole thing and go squat in the toilet.
Thats when the really wierd shit started to happen. The toilet is rotating really fast and I'm getting sick and 'abouttopuky'. So I close my eyes and this makes me feel better, temporarily.
Then, I start hearing frogs, maybe crickets croaking. I remember thinking, is this really happening. Are frogs really croaking. Anyway, it does'nt bother me initially, but starts getting louder and worse I start falling again. I open my eyes. But then, the toilet starts rotating and I'm forced to shut my eyes again. I start falling again. This goes on for sometime after which I resign myself to falling. The period that followed was the scariest period of my life. While all this is happening, there's the conscious rational part of me thats trying to reason things out. This starts thinking about, deaths due to drug overdose, Jimmy Hendrix, Jimmy Morrison and for some reason Kurt Cobaine. I (that rational self thats in the corner and having a third persons look at the whole thing) start telling myself that all I did was smoke pot. This is nowhere near as
potent as LSD, ecstacy etc etc. I then start reminding myself that I'm this regular guy, with normal parents and a normal childhood etc etc. I try and keep reminding myself of what is really real. I realise that I'm doing that and then think about it. I start thinking about what makes this less really real. These feelings of fear and lonelyness that I was feeling, they were more genuine than any such experiences in the 'really real'. I think about whether this new reality has any rules. I reckon, that this reality, being a product of the mind, must have rules that I'm subconciously aware of. All such thoughts go on.
I start thinking about whether I'll really get out of it. Start thinking whether this will be that dream that one will never wake from. I start thinking of death. I pray. Then I think about God. I remember thinking that he might exist in this reality, for that prayer it was from way within. I wonder whether this was punishment for all my sins etc etc. Thoughts start moving faster after this. I remember thinking that my brain has never been this active. I also realise that I'm thinking too fast to remember what I had just thought. I decide that these thoughts are really insightful and that I should make a conscious effort to remember them. But then I can't. I even try repeating my thoughts aloud, but half way through it I have a new thought and I forget the old one. Anyway, in this process my fear takes a back seat and I manage to get out of the toilet. The frogs finally stop croaking. Anyway once I get out of the bathroom ,I get to my room and try and sleep. By then, RH and SN are there. Anyway, I try sleeping when I start falling again. I get shit scared again and my thoughts repeat themselves. I crawl out of my room and puke and lie in my own vomit for sometime. SA by this time is sober or atleast appears to be so and starts giving what appears to me as sage advice. The non sloshed guys however keep bullshitting him and get me a bucket to puke in. Thats when things got blurry. My onlookers have various stories of the things I did and said. I sadly, don't remember much of what followed. I just remeber noting that whenever I was in a bad place mentally, I puked. I remember noting this and earmarking it for further thought. Anyway at somepoint, I ran out of stuff to vomit and then started first vomiting water and then just air. I vaguely remember crawling back to the bed and swearing that I'll never smoke dope again.
For all the fear and the pain that it caused, it was the most unreal, most unputdowninwordsable and most out of body experience that I've ever had.
I'd be foolish to try it out again. But then again, I was fool enough to try it out in the first place.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

post 4



Sunday, September 04, 2005

Dream 1

Just had a wacky dream. I was in my home, which was an apartment in Venice I think, because there was a canal right in front of the building, it figures later. Anyway, I'm fiddling with my molar, when it comes out. I'm slightly freaked, but then I admire the full tooth. When I say full tooth, I mean full tooth, all complete with the root and all, with the root covered with a small amount of soft flesh. I haven't seen a a tooth root, so I'm guessing it was'nt anatomically accurate, more like an artist's impression, I'm the artist btw, yeah right.
Suddenly Amma turns up and I show her the tooth. She admires it as well. I ask her whether I should screw it back in. She says its up to me. Then suddenly, I'm outside the apartment, mom is there with me and I wave a ship thats passing by to stop. The tantrum I pull off works and the ship's captain, who turns out to be Denzel Washington by the way, stops. I tell him I want to put the tooth back into the whale that it belongs to. Yeah, like it made sense untill now.
Anyway, Denzel washington is in military uniform, but it is after all a fishing boat, it has a whale, well one atleast. Once I see the whale, I start eating it..raw. Amma is sitting beside me and watching me eat it. She asks me for a piece. I'm kind of taken aback. I ask her when she quit vegetarianism. She does'nt reply, she's too busy eating the whale fin.
Half way through the whale, I realise that the tooth that I wanted to remove from the whale, is in my hand. So I start cleaning it, i.e removing the flesh thats on it. I remove the flesh and the tooth resembles a beautiful miniature pipe, marble white. I go back to amma and tell her that I want to thank Denzel Washington. She says, he's left on another ship. Yeah, so I see this other ship pass by, with Denzel standing on the deck in millitary whites and I give him on of those pretentious George Bushy salutes.
Anyway, then I have a look at the pipe and amma tells me that it's time to leave, Deepu is waiting, and sure enough I see him watching us from the apartment, looking at us with one of his bored looks. Thats when I woke up.
Venice? Casanova was from Venice. Casanova? or maybe Marquis de Sade.
Don't gat any ideas, was wikiing this morning.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Yeah more, post 3 I guess.

Fuck it. Here goes. Apparently I'm supposed to be looking at the Lifshitz point, a wierd kind of tricritical point, that consists of a the meeting point of 3 phases, a normal ordered phase, a
a modulated ordered phase and a normal, disordered phase. This sort of point is supposed to be found, in what is called the ANNI model, sort of Isingish model, with anitferromagnetic next nearest neighbour interactions. Interesting? I don't know. Well I do know if I at all get started on it, I'll be at it, atleast with my normal, very much sububer levels of concentration. I might still enjoy it. Ofcourse I guess, that makes it my calling. Yeah right.
Why do I still do it. Why do I not give up. Give up and do what? Cooler stuff, yeah right, there are very few things that are cooler than 'physics' in my warped reality. But, yet.. but yet, I don't know, there's this piece of sand lodged somewhere, thats stalling things, not in a big way, after all I do manage an effective illusion, considering that there haven't been any gargantuan problems. I'm like a cricketer, going through a phase when he realises, that no matter how much he scores and how many wickets he takes , he still is playing cricket. He can bury, this knowledge of the utter meaninglessness of his wasted existance, at some deep corner of his subconcious, but he know's, now that it's been opened he'll never be able to effectively seal it. Will the box, now opened, make him a lesser cricketer? Will it even matter that he succeeds? Once the box is open, it's all an illusion. Ambition, has long been mocked, and ridiculed, so much so that it has packed it's bags and left for greener pastures, more gullible minds. All that is left, is just residue from subluminal brainwash. Where one wants to see oneself, how one wants to be seen as, lame, pedestrian and completely devoid of meaning.
Passed this stage sometime back, one has grown in awareness, yet the emptyness remains. Is it just the nightouts talking.
What self involved bull shit. Look at the whole thing logically. Afterlife, is there afterlife? I would'nt bet on it. This is all we've got. Neitzsche was here. God is dead. Neitzshe was here.
The purpose of man is to make way for the uberman. The purpose of humanity is to make way for the ubermansch, the overman, to evolve it seems.
Does'nt ring a chord. It's wrong to BS what one does'nt understand, I'll do it anyway. So, where does that leave me. What is my purpose in life, my purpose in life as an individual?
Why am I here? Who the fuck put me here and why the hell did he go through the pains of doing so? Physics, will it answer these questions? I don't think so, atleast not in my lifetime.
Is there a better place for finding such answers, are their other avenues of thought? Philosophy, maybe, theology, I don't think so, Mysticism? Does one make a shift, graze in different pastures? Do you have reasons? Are they convincing? Can reason at all show us the way....

Omni, do you seriously think I gave half a fuck, about that pretentious drivel!!
Let me let you in on a secret. You'll never go beyond that. Get a life, futureV's.

This is my 'thick as a brick', my anti-concept album.
Give up illusions of ever answering any such questions, that are at all relevent to providing the key to your putrid existence. The best you can do is mock them.
Why not end it all then, you may well ask. Well , I would'nt want to do you guys that favour, don't like you that much.
Go fuck yourselves, all.


Just had an insight. Great, so , it was'nt a one off thing after all. Jeez, commas totally flummox me. Anyway, I've decided on how the blog would be like. Since I plan on keeping it more or less anonymous, apart from occasional moments of stupidity and weakness, in that order , when I'd first make the mistake of thinking that I'm insightful and then make the mistake of acting on that mistake and actually brag about that thing of insight as a result of which a poor, innocent friend will be subjected a load of bull, anyway enough self-depreciation, after a while it becomes hideously self-piteous and lame. Yeah, so the structure of the blog. I've decided that I'll not be blogging about anything in particular, and hence my posts will never have subjects. They will just have dates, infact probably blog numbers will do. The idea is that I evolve in time as a person. So a new guy writes the blog each time. This is not a very deep point of view. It is more one of convenience. Right now one disrinct advantage i see is that Vatsa8 can mock Vatsa6 get the idea.
So who is this "you", thats the next question. "You" is the omnipresent Vatsa , or it could be anyfuture vatsa. Well, omnipresent vatsa, I'm rather preoccupied right now. Am chatting with a girl. Yes, future Vatsa, I am cooler than you, or rather I was..whatever. So I will end this inane bit of bullshit by introducing the final character in this muddle, yeah, there's one more. He's editor vatsa, we shall refer to him as bob, as a tribute to a certain spam that I seem to get a lot these days. So this bob guy, has the authority to make minor edits, like spell errors, gramatical errors etc, but he has no authority over ideas and has no permission to edit them. bob is not to be confused with omnipresent vatsa. bob judges, omniprsent vatsa, well he understands. I just quoted Thoureu, beat that future vatsa scum. Well, omniprsent vatsa, screw you, I actually do have better things to do, besides, your name's far too cumbersome, henceforth you shall be reffered to as omni, no hard feelings over being named after a bad car.
Go fuck yourselves, all.

What blogging means to me

This post is a post on what blogging means to me. This question encompasses many related questions that are ofcourse not necessarily implied by it.
These include why people blog, why I plan to blog, why blogging is useful in general, how I plan to blog, how I want my blog to be ,(that is'nt the same question I guess) , what I plan to blog about, who I plan to blog for etc etc. Shucks,I might as well have asked these questions in the first place.
I hope these questions will get answered as this post sort of builds itself out. That I guess answers one thing, blogging must be spontaneous and sort of streamofconsciousnessy, meaning that it should be written as I think, as I write this I realise that statements like the one before this and this one right now are fairly unwelcome, I wonder why I'm uncomfortable with them, yeah, they seem artificial, they make it seem as if I'm writing for a reader, while I should be writing for myself. That answers another question. Now the very fact that these statements still remain, imply that there is no room for deletion in my blogs. Does this mean that I donot care for how my full post or eventually the full blog looks like? Well I guess, yes and no. Ofcourse I can always say that I don't, but I know that is'nt the case. There are always illusions of granduer and one always aims to satisfy, atleast oneself. Also I wan't my blog to reflect my true level of my pretence, the act of blogging should not add it, magnify it, accentuate it. The previous line itself falls in that category, accentuate it seems. Things like this are strict no, no's, but then there are no strict no no's I guess. What does one do when one runs out of what to say, should one just beat about the bush, as I'm doing right now or should one stop. That fullstop is disconcertingn it puts me off, I wish my blogs had no full stops, but I guess that's asking for too much, after all, one is not always on dope. Statements like this, I almost am sure, will piss the shit out of when I reread this excuse for a post, I wonder what should be done about them? Whom, do I address when I'm blogging, oh fuck that, I realised..what did I realise, I just realised something, yeah, there are obvious disadvantages in a streamofconsiousnessy, heck I don't think I even know what that means, these little assides will just kill me, they sure as hell made me forget what I wanted to say, what did I want to say, yeah, this streamofconsciousness bull, did i spell that right? Do i be conscious of spelling errors in a blog? I guess, going back a bit and capitalising an I, as I just did, is not unwelcome, simple aesthetics go a long way, where the fuck was I, oh I guess swearing is allowed, where was I....yeah, there are obvious disadvantages with adopting a streamofconsciousnessy style, there will be many cockups that one would have hoped to avoid and many sections of the blog that will positively revolt, but then there is also I guess a greater chance of thinking/writing/blogging that one thing of tremendous insight, that one thought that will change everything and make everything worthwhile.....these dots displease me somehow, I guess I'll quit doing that. It seem's like one of those things that reek pretence. What am I trying to portray....that I'm thinking? oops. Hey, that was'nt bad. But I guess, once one starts allowing for that it'll bleeding become a frigging habit. One does'nt want that to happen. Fuck, this is exhausting. Wonder if this is one of those one off things?