skullop the scyther

and i've been transported to a strange place. where i punted across an oil river inhabited by half dead yetis. and i'm thankful once again. to come unfettered.
"to be born again, you have to first die."

blotto

i said hey bartender
hey man looka here
draw one, draw two, draw three, four glasses of beer
elwood!

well we was having so much fun
i didnt know it was half past one
i turned around to have one more
i looked at the clock and it was half past four

hey bartender
hey man look a here
a draw one, draw two, draw three, four glasses of beer

a fair fight

i don't know where my ideals went. i too wanted to change the world. i remember the coat hangers that i obsessed over - educated opinion. and now at this darkest nadir, i want them back. every stupid notion that had a free run of my head. what snapped?
meaning. the hunt continues.

indian bombers inc.

while our bombers, bombed at the worldcup, closer home (my favorite phrase for the week) myriad school, college, army division and the odd liquor baron's teams battled it out on artificial turf.
i happened to be riding by. and decided to embark on a photostich experiment. this is three snaps and in print size is a whopping 7 feet wide.
ok... they've stolen my noodles!

robin the mynah

man, bird? bird, man? man, bird? bird, man? man, bird? bird, man? BIRDMAN!!

adi adds: "not for mynahs."
surgeons warning: "do not try this at home. if you do, do not feed the mynah before you try this at home. if you do, do not place mynah on t-shirt as demonstrated above."

meanwhile browne is now in the guana biz.

shonar shonja

my obsession with the canines and shonja (you might remember her from an earlier image... staring up... what's the adverb.... wistfully?) in particular, deepens, darkens, mystifies. i'm asking me strange things. am i a dog? profound question. am i a happy dog? profounder question.



fact of the matter is, i'm finding a whole lot more meaning in the much abused phrase - unconditional love. dogs. refrigerators. wind chimes. wall hangings. cats. door knobs. carpets. the inanimate and the mute. i've stepped into a bizarre world. a man with a lot of affection to dispense with (and now for the familiar gripe - and nobody to shower it on), is bound to start looking at the things around him. are these symptoms of some advanced neurosis? profoundest question.

enough said.

bharat brass band

bright sunday afternoon. and i foolishly left the comfort of my book (rumo and his miraculous adventures) to drop off some cousins. another hare-brained mission. another sunday ruined. but then i ran into the biggest mofo traffic jam and the bharat brass band.



i can't handle a vertical frame. i used to be able to. but now... it just throws me off balance. i can't seem to compose... and hate the results inevitably. as also is the case with the above men on stilts. but before aesthetic, i've always put documentation. and so.



along came a legless horseman and stole the apple pie from my window sill.



there are all manners of lesser imps and devils... but the great satan himself is red, scaly, has a biforcated tail and carries a pitchfork.



running into bharat brass band on a particularly depressing sunday was reaffirming. i choose to still believe. in serendipity. in hope. in joy.

hawkeye

hockey stadium, richmond park, mudtank. those were small circles. and witness to many 'quick blazes'. the question remains... where is the nostalgia? the answer remains... where is the memory? damn... we all need to slow down.

the great bob said

ooh ooh ooh
mr brown is a clown who rides to town in a coffin
...
asking for mr brown
i wanna know who is (mr brown)?
is mr brown controlled by remote?

hukum

strangesaperagypsyfromrajasthanwithstrangerstillbagpipesfromscotland. "jo hukum sarkar"