Friday, November 20, 2009

silly billy!

Step One: Analyze

As I lay in bed sick with a high fever watching the news, my inner newscaster grabbed the opportunity and decided to run the weekly events for my amusement. Except I wasn’t that amused.
“And now…this just in…” she said with authority spitting in my eye…
“In a recent poll done, People think you are:
An Exhibitionist
A Control freak
Blah blah blah…..
She could go on and on but I had to turn her off. I made myself believe that people were probably saving the best for my grave…”at my funeral they will say the things I wanted to hear except I will not be able to hear them anymore.” Aaahha! But switching her off did not help. I was turned on.

Step Two: Release

In the past, the word ‘release’ just meant something I did sexually but as days go by and I start to resemble the hunchback of Notre dame, I realize that my mental baggage had finally begun to spill over. Sure, It’s easy to pay the excess charge and hold on to that baggage but I opted to chuck out a few hundred kilos. I think this is what they call “midlife crisis.” Damn it …I hate that word!
Ex boyfriend / boyfriends playing in my playground
Ex husbands jumping over them to slam-dunk
Friends fielding the situation from every corner
Throw in a bunch of strangers staring and watching the situation with much delight…
Mom on constant loop “I told you so…” “I told you so…” “I told you so…”
A ball of anger passed along to each and every member residing in the mental society.

Step Three: Fly



I keep on erasing
Its something I do best
You keep on resurrecting
Its something I regret
That movie
That scene
That line
That’s fine
This life
This moment
This ride
We ignite
I erase
U rephrase
I erase
U let me
The movie ends before the climax. The tickets sold out. The public fooled.
A houseful board in front of an empty house!

Friday, October 2, 2009

Erase with Iss Qadar

to the left
with bearded clefts
women to the right
who ignite
successful women
house women
blue women
hooker women
delhi women
thrice divorced women
street women
yellow women
mom women

sharing a secret
victoria created
measured in cups
pushup windup makeup

newspaper headlines
radio whines
my fine felines
its women’s day

that’s two much wood
gracing front pages
day passes
like any other
screams of hunger
none can capture
while they charter
planes and champagnes
want some cheddar?

yelps of pain
he beats her sane
girl child
girl child
we celebrate
we celebrate
wearin nameplates
doctor actor painter
nagger breeder fairer
I got lots to offer
I don’t wear lip balm
I don’t wanna be calm
Like saddam
I wanna embalm

silicone women
candy coated women
dotted women
tattooed women
seated women

you celebrate
while they checkmate!



Hello shylock…im in this rick moving at 60kph and I don’t think I have still left yer side…:-} :-}
16:16 (clock 16 minutes ahead)
im listening to u sing in my ears as I gently play with your hair n put u to sleep
….and im loving it


hubba bubba good morning….just woke up….u must be buzzing on a Monday…im still to recover from Sunday morning….hugs hugs hugs:-}
Hello my lovely….Im still flying with you over mountains and graveyards admiring the beauty in both…..
White…you wanna hang out for a bit later in the evening?
yes yes n yes
Super doper will call after im done…:-}
pinkoo says hi
yareevayareeva pote si seres pote si seres….:-}


I rode around n cried and loved every minute of it:. Thank u
:-} :-} …. I hope you feel better…
my glow is solid n my flow fluid
sullen, blue, melancholy, a dash of ache and a hint of pain circle round my bed…I wud ask them to take a seat but instead I look out through the sunroof over my head…thank you
dear chodeux,
the reason I freaked out last night is because I felt this connection with you is not new…like the linger of a cigarette left behind with red lipstick stains on it….just like eternal…n when I saw that video it dawned on me that I know u from before….and the ashes left behind from the amnesia still reminds me of what I shouldve remembered.
chudailiya hai tumne jo dilko….la-la-la-la:-}
Rider….where are you?
Fuck I just got home from a ride on carter road n bandstand…. U were missed….


hey sorry didn’t get a chance to reply back to yer msg…I was rehearsing in his haunted house and was wondering if u wud show up….:-{…got caught up in the act…big afternoon hug:-}
I thought I could introduce them to another kind…
Muaach…im in yari road
So come see me…..i wud have come but vinay’s gone to blue frog and I cant leave his house…..:-{
Yayeee….buildingnext to yari road bus depot sai nagar bld….call when ur here:-}

scrambled ramble

Trapped in a roomful of people she exhaled..
Are you callin me fat? It’s the wide-angle lens!
Who are you?
What is your status?
Single? Engaged? Married? In an open relationship? Complicated?

The whole world thrives on sympathy…
Sympathy lies in the dictionary between shit and syphilis…

Ob-la-di ob-la-da life goes on

Confucius say: A Magazine is a bunch of printed pages that tell you what's coming in the next issue
Cant wait can you?….
Will I be rich? Will I have Ms. Universe as my wife? Will I live forever? Will I? Then what fool?
Your woman sucks on you while you suck on viagra….
whose the dog and where’s the bone-r?

A prostitute with a degree in psychology will blow your mind

If elvis was a black man would he still be the KING?
Proud black mama slaps a racist man and declares
“listen here fool…it don’t matter if a woman is black or white or yellow or brown…they’re all pink inside…”

yeah she had a PHD in ghetto

Frustration is not rambling mindless shit…
Its that hooker that turns out to be your brothers wife..
You know her?

Grace was pretty amazing
Or was I too blind to see…

bliss fizz

The mind is switched off
The prepaid, hungry
Fuck you feed me!
Refill nowhere in sight
Incoming banned
Road to nowhere
If this is not Bliss
If this is not Bliss
Then tell me what is…

Guitars strum
Voices hum
Bullets thump
I run I run
If this is not Bliss
If this is not Bliss
Then tell me what is…..

Queens’s necklace
Stolen at midnight
Nicotine smoked
Honor bestowed
If this is not Bliss
If this is not Bliss
Then it must be…….

It must be the Fizz
Lackin from
my plastic cuppa coke
Lacking from
The chump
I poked….

one two three four five who the fuck is counting

Back in the good ole days, Mahatma Gandhi gave his list of blunders to his grandson Arun Gandhi on a piece of paper not too long before his assassination.
* Wealth without work
* Pleasure without conscience
* Knowledge without character
* Commerce without morality
* Science without humanity
* Worship without sacrifice
* Politics without principle
This list grew from Gandhi's search for the roots of violence. He called these acts of passive violence. “Preventing these is the best way to prevent oneself or one's society from reaching a point of violence.” To this list, Arun Gandhi added an eighth blunder, Rights without responsibilities.
If this lingo seems too proper for my column it’s because I’m quoting from

Anyway, I thought it was time I came up with a list of me own dam blunders. Calm down everyone, I don’t mean to start a riot by comparing myself to Mr. Gandhi; I just wanna come up with something I can relate too. “Yup, stop cursing in the background I’m trying to write here.”
Let the games begin:
The re elected Bush
Ejector seats for helicopters
Decaf coffee
Pin striped Safari Suits
Synchronized water ballet
Masala Peanut Butter
Miniature Pomeranians
Work without wealth
Ultra mild slim cigarettes
Sugar free / fat free anything
Camouflage Billboards
Glow-in-the-dark Suntan Lotion
Re run reality shows
Waterproof towels
Underwater golf tournaments
The terms “metrosexual” “fab” “rocking” “killer”

Hee hee.. stopping at seven seemed impossible.

My hero Elvis found out about my list and decided to email me his top 7 contribution.
Uppers without downers
Responsibilities without pleasure
Grandma undies
Item numbers wearing white jumpsuits
Diet plans
Elvis impersonators

It’s very easy making lists and writing utter nonsense for the sake of entertainment. It’s very easy reading the paper and discussing gossip. It’s very easy pointing fingers and calling names. These perhaps are the blunders all humans are guilty of and will not make any list because honestly nobody gives a dam.

Friday, July 24, 2009


When I was a young girl, I remember my father constantly telling me “Billie, when you grow up, remember to respect a man just enough. Just enough to keep him superficially happy.” I was five then and did not have a clue of what that meant. “Try not to make more money than him, and if you do, hide it.” “Listen to him with one patient ear but turn around and do as you please.” “What!” “Stupid papa, always thinking of something profound to say. I am a child, can’t he talk about bicycles and Lego.” Needless to say, that information was stored it in my mental hard drive and applied in every relationship. Most of them failed. Not my fault of course.
After my first marriage ended in three months, my mom told me “Don’t worry Sapu, marriages are over rated anyway.” “Do your thing.” “Well put ma.” I remembered her words for a year but decided to take the plunge again. On my wedding eve she told me, “Sapu, learn to be a little more bearing of men. They are not so bad. Give in sometimes. It’s ok to do that.” “What!” I listened with one patient ear and turned around and did as I pleased.
Yup, the second one came crashing down. This one lasted a year. Not my fault again of course. Not my mama or my papa’s either.
“The fault,” as my imaginary shrink would say, “lies in our dynamic unconscious.” What.... you see this is the reason I dumped her.
But I liked the reasoning. I started to blame everything on this ‘dynamic unconscious’ thing. Look it up stupid, if you don’t understand it.
I woke up this morning to the news of the Taj being added as one of the wonders of the world. Hurray Yippee Yay. The whole nation rejoiced. I was happy too. I smoked a pack to celebrate.
According to history, when Mumtaz Mahal was still alive, she extracted four promises from the emperor: first, that he build the Taj; second, that he should marry again; third, that he be kind to their children; and fourth, that he visit the tomb on her death anniversary. He kept the first and second promises. God bless him.
These days it’s hard to extract loyalty from a man, let alone a monument. And even if a man promised to build that monument, he would probably end up borrowing money from his wife. Hee hee.
I pranced about in my box I call house in deep thought pondering, “Would a woman ever build such a monument for a man?” “Would she spend so much time and effort and money on any man other than her plastic surgeon?” “ Would she go as far as cutting limbs to avoid duplication?” “Hell no,” replied my dynamic conscious.

Confucius say, “Man who fight with wife all day get no piece at night.”
I say, ”Woman who wants to live in monument, lives not in the moment.”