kaun kehta hai

So there's a theory that says, "You won't lose your wallet." Amazing theory. Kind of like the end of all misery. You fervently believe in the theory and it makes you feel so safe, like you're in control. And you like that feeling, and you go about your life. Sometimes, maybe once a few days, you stop in your tracks, pat your pocket, and giggle in awe of this supreme theory that just.. works!

Well, until you do lose your wallet. And how does that feel, Mr. Theist? Do you feel stupid? Angry? Isn't all the world a sham attempt by the Supreme One to pick at you, watch you twitch at every touch of the tweezers? Quite the victim, aren't we?

But how about the unthinkable, that the theory actually worked. Only that it wasn't about wallets, but about making you happy. Is that really so bad? Given, you know, the hypothesis that you'll just run into it tomorrow when it comes strolling out of that table in the far corner?

the pineapple pirate

sinking ships
with
stout fat pricks
that
never know why
they're
dying just shy
of
moatfuls of gold
that
wait since old
for
pirates to lay
their
metal and clay
on its
shining studs
and
clang their buds
and
dance and swim
in
bottles of whim.

oh!
i know why
the
moat went dry
on
them so close
with a
cruel fire hose
and
burnt them toast
just
beyond the coast
of
murmurs and riches
hidden
doors and switches
scary
invisible ditches
and
mad barking bitches.

the pirate dead
had
an artist's head
it
loved to write
sure
however trite
an
inspiring sight
but
an awful plight
for
the pirate himself
as
he sought an elf
to
get his sock
out of
the writer's block.

the pirate's men
the
stout fat hen
had
no great ear
but
when they hear
the
pirate screech
his
romantic streak
in a
poignant pose
on the
mast when those
poor
souls would scramble
and
stumble entangle
then
everyone knows
its
poetry not prose.

one fine eve
with a
heart in bereave
the
pirate got out
and
made a pout
in
thoughts so deep
he
struggled to keep
his
head afloat
and
about the boat
when
then his thoughts
made a
U-turn to trot
and
hop and jumped
at the
sky and pumped
such
divine kicks
to his
soul in licks
that
he joyously jumped
and
.. fake humped
and
went inside
in
powerful stride
and
came out in tights
with a
handful of kites.

the stout fat pricks
then
didn't know the tricks
that
love plays on men
and were
happy by then
that
poems weren't kites
though they
hated the tights
but the
pirate didn't care
and he
flicked his hair
and
cried like a man
for
his sweetheart susanne.

the pirate thought
he
had to, he ought
to
confess his heart
lest
the moment depart
and he
got out a ring
with
finesse and zing
and
pouted to kiss
his
ring for the miss
and with
an intense fight
tied
it to the kite.

The rest is easy
the
gods went sleazy
at the
man in tights
a
pirate flying kites
and
touched the ring
with an
electric thing
that
touched the ship
in a
crazy trip
and
the poet and kin
got
kicked in the shin
and
burnt to toast
well
just beyond the coast.

lovers, amen.

Mostly Harmless

Not a lot, not much
just a smooth careless touch
An arm brush,
a shy gush,
or a sneaky finger clutch

Get it rolling, play along
hold it light, easy-strong
Return a glance
like a dance
Ping pong ping pong

A sharp look and away
half a smile, half a sway
and a muted
undisputed
tell-all grin there to stay

Let the moment as it does
Keep the air warm, abuzz
Know you can't
Will it or shan't
stay, for stories do end thus

Rally Rule

How about a tea, sir, what of a bread?
Follow me, dear dying, to the joined hands ahead
that, with promises made,
will sicken you but trade
your tonight's meal for it, as I said.

Boredom is necessary, and Necessity mostly bored.

Necessity is the mother of Invention, Boredom its father.

In Boredom, numerous potential ideas swarm about lazily, day in and night out. Most of them either laid waste by a lack of clear direction, or contained by the rubber walls of constraint, thus providing only intellectual and largely inconsequential euphoria.

But some day, one of them hits the sweet spot, fits the right keyhole. And a living idea is conceived. The idea grows and incubates in the laborious, nurturing environment of Necessity. Growing limbs and nerves it will need once it's out in the open. Gathering uniqueness, strength, and mass enough to fill the Necessity.

And once out, the two parents look on in pride at their Invention. The result of all the months of hard work, ready to find its place in the Market. The harsh, unforgiving Market.

While as before, Boredom will keep splashing new ideas at the drop of a nightie, in hopes of recreation. But at the end of the evening, it is only Necessity that determines what finally turns into an Invention.

It's not the same

No, video games can't teach you driving. Why?

Your car is not the fastest one.
The damage to your car will be no less than the others.
The side mirrors are indispensable.
There are three pedals that you work not with your dexterous fingers but with your damn feet. Which are not three in number.
You can't actually see your own car.
The purpose on the road is not to reach the finish line fastest.
It's just not your game alone anymore.
There are no extra lives.
And no you can't press Alt F4.

In fact, what would be a good way to understand real driving is to imagine yourself as the driver of the other cars in the game, those that stop on the red lights.

Cars

Cars are really funny things. The way they carry themselves, it can be very amusing.They've got all the kinds.

The confused, the quirky, the drunk, the toddler, the honking socialist, the one with the shortcuts, the clumsy one, the rich and proud, the smoothie, the ambulance, the messed-up petrified one, the whore that will let anyone in, the jumpy one, the one with a winking disorder, the pink one, the virgin everybody wants to make their mark on, the swan that's actually a crow, the office-going suited one, the one with tattoos, the politician, the dreamy, the parking night-guard, the freak, the furious, the one without a destination, the siren, the voyeur, and the one just plain wrong.

There should be a facebook for cars.