Austere

Space

2012-03-02T23:27:00.004Z

Looking for space, Looking for yourself.
Staggering, Slithering we all will make our way some day.
Somewhere where you think you belong.

Soon I won't be using this blog anymore. I no longer feel like I belong here. This space don't feel like I own it anymore.

Here are few photos I took on my trip to manchester and 1st is my studio space and 3rd one of someone's work in University.

friendly advice

2012-02-05T19:47:00.008Z

Pandora’s Box never closes as it’s always shut once open it’s all there to explode. Who knows that little fuck?

Arti

2012-01-25T01:06:00.005Z

The coat , the transparent bag and outer coat thingy was made by Arti Limbu.

Dust on the Ground

2012-01-23T00:36:00.003Z

Plateau II

2012-01-09T00:47:00.001Z

‘The most peaceful man is the most disturbed on. He is who that has questioned and experience the worse of humanity, he is the one who stays calmly painted black paint on a colourful canvas, observing all the rest colours and it's content.’

How far are we going Stef?

She seems to be fazed out looking out the green filed, the blue skies shown with the bright sun often being penetrated through to earth.

Quietly she squeezes her face, biting her lips she drips the little grains of pearl from her eyes. Grabbing her dark blue dress with tiny flowers around, she leans on my shoulder and gently let the tears soak my shoulder.

Dean, I have forgotten how to remember anything. Remember how to be me, how to get close to anyone, She quotes.

Ahhh, I paused and look at the bowed down sky and responded, I don't know Stef. Don't know what's happening any more.

The silence surrounded the space we have occurred like a foggy field.

I handed her my earphones and said, in my count to three you put them in your ears and close your eyes.

She nodded gently like a swaying leaves hit by summer breeze.

One, Two, Three......

Clair de Lune by Debussy starts to spill gently as she leans back to her seat. Gliding her tender left hand towards me she places over my right palm. I let those finger rests there and I myself close my eyes. The light penetrates my eye lids with willow creating dream machine like effect. The train sure was moving fast.

When I opened my eyes, I see
the well made room under the sun’s radar which seemed like a cliché in my eyes. Every object enriched with memories layered with thin layer of dust, I walked in slowly as the cheated heart pound the ribs. Destination was outplayed with desire paths where I seemed to get lost. Am I really supposed to be here? I asked myself.

I walked towards the table where an unopened letter was placed addressed to me, the Typewriter and the collection of postcards from 40’s and 50’s lying next to it. I gently opened the envelope unravelling the words I tried to read it.

Dear, Dean

i get bored of being bored, and of saying I am bored, To me everything looks mundane and plain. Like an unfinished lullaby when I wake up to the London wind I think of myself being someone else. Why am I like this? AM I SAD?

Dean, I honestly just want to vanish, away from everyone and everything I so called my home and friends. I want to start new, a villa for me a sun shine, might be in Spain or France. I would wake up early in the morning go for a walk with the spring breeze. The chirping birds welcoming the day, the blue sky and the funny steps I would make as if I am dancing in the field with no embarrassment. I would take many pictures there and sell few which will afford me to live my life. Life would be perfect won’t it? That way? But! Always the but and as if comes along. Only if that could happen, right?

We are free to dream. Aren’t we Dean?

I am sorry, figuring out myself I always tend to forget to ask you anything. Something, something you know.... somethinggg!! The kind of things you ask me most of the time. I wonder sometimes what I mean to you and why do I fall in that side of your heart. Why? Why do you care about me? Is it the pictorial images of me ? The lingo,?? I don’t know.

What am I? Where are we?

Dean?

Stefany

Speechlessly, I looked at the letter as if it was my image on a mirror and place it where it was kept and look at the postcard of a train placed next to it . Then I thought of the train and the journey we both never made. With much less to say!

I walk out of the room, grasping my fingers together. As my feet took it steps like an unwilling leaf of spring. I gasped my life and promise not to turn back.

It will always be like this my love, we will always be like this. The unheard voices will always be echoing everywhere we go. The answers to them will always be lingering. The promises will always be made. And so will of course be broken. It's all up to you! We are all alone and everything you make up is all in your head.

Thinking about those thousands of voices she might be getting, I muted myself and dismissed the thoughts of where I might be placed. I walked and walkedd...

Visit Nepal 2011

2011-12-26T17:10:00.010Z

Here are few of many pictures I took while my visit to Nepal. The pictures are all been edited by Stefany Alves who is a London based blogger and a great person. I genuinely love her work and the way she takes pictures with different themes. I highly recommend everyone to look at her work and let it explain itself.

My visit to Nepal was an absolute rush, I spent much time in Grandma's place eating, chatting and riding a worn off bike. After that I went straight back to Damak, that's where I grew up and met all my friends and relatives. I had a great time there but as time was running low I returned back to Kathmandu where I met few of my closest friends and cousins. It was rush there but had the craziest time of my life and finally met Usha di. Pheww worth the wait sis.

Anyway, I will be adding more pictures soon.

Politics

2011-11-26T17:06:00.003Z

20^th October - 20^th of November 2011

20^th - 25^th of October 2011: preparation of Canvas

I. 26^th - 2:15pm studio (10strokes)

27^th - 11:00am basement (10strokes)

II. 28^th - 5:00pm studio (10 strokes)

30^th - 6:00pm basement (10 strokes)

III. 31^st - 1:20pm studio (10 strokes)

1^st- 1:36pm basement (12 strokes)

IV. 1^st- 4:43pm studio (10 studio)

2^nd- 9:30am basement (11 strokes)

V. 2^nd- 12:25am studio (10 strokes)

3^rd- 10:35am basement (10 strokes)

VI. 3^rd- 12:38pm studio (10 strokes)

4^th- 9:45am basement (12 strokes)

VII. 4^th- 9:55am studio (11 strokes)

6^th- 11:20am basement (11strokes)

VIII. 6^th- 2:20pm studio (10 strokes)

7^th- Unknown basement (10 strokes)

IX. 7^th- 1:46pm studio (10 strokes)

10^th- 9:35am basement (11 strokes)

X. 10^th- 10:13am studio (11 strokes)

11^th- 9: 47am basement (11 strokes)

XI. 11^th- 10:13 studio (10 strokes)

14^th- 11:53pm basement (10 strokes)

XII. 14^th- 12:36pm studio (14 strokes)

15^th- 1:46pm basement (14 strokes)

XIII. 15^th- 6:10pm studio (10 strokes)

16^th- 12:48pm basement (11 strokes)

XIV. 16^th- 3:53pm studio (10 strokes)

17^th- 2:25pm basement (14 strokes)

XV. 17^th- 4:38pm studio (16 strokes)

18^th- 9:46am basement (21 strokes)

XVI. 18^th- 10:05am studio (10 strokes)

20^th- 5:46pm basement (10 strokes)

vanishing life.

2011-11-20T22:21:00.008Z

When your fragile life vanishes, every object you leave behind holds that amount of memories; your close ones feels burden to even unravel.

This was the concept I came up with while I was doing a workshop on Nudities in University.

Green Park London 28/10/11

Nottingham Trent University 27/10/11

Mamma I am coming home!

2011-11-10T22:50:00.003Z

I was supposed to be flying for Nepal last summer but few circumstances hold me down with that plan but end of this this month I will sure be flying for Nepal as I have got the ticket already.

Plans are simple this time, I haven't informed many people so.

List of things to do,

Go fishing,
Bike riding
Climb trees
Give a speech at my secondary school
Greet as many people as I can
Spent as much time with Grandma as possible
Shopping
get a tattoo

Bring back some stuff.

I don't know If I am very excited or not as I have been busy with University work and my job. But I am sure I will have a great time once I step my foot into my motherland.

Ofcourse I will. fuck sake that's where I was born after all.

here is the post I wrote about my plan last time, I don't have the same enthusiasm but sure have the flame burning inside.

Summer Plan

Farewell, foolish objects

2011-10-26T14:11:00.010+01:00

Love is Naked I say

2011-10-25T21:57:00.006+01:00

Red is Fear
Fear is Love
Love is Naked
so is an Apple.

what a joke.

Obtrusive

2011-10-16T22:37:00.009+01:00

Obtrusively He stays still. Stef,

I can't write any more nor can I paint.
I have forgotten how to remember and remember how to forget things. All I do now is stay like a black paint splashed on a white canvas observing all the light.

The silence conjures the room like the foggy morning.

pulling her hair back side towards back of her ears she looks at me and instead of response, gazes away to the blue sky and says,

Beautiful day huh?

Amitābha

2011-09-22T18:33:00.007+01:00

Amitabha

People

2011-09-19T05:47:00.007+01:00

2011-09-10T15:02:00.022+01:00

In this post, I want to talk about two friends/photographers that I have known and seen them maturing in there skills as the time passed. They are gradually preparing themself to be exposed. which they very much deserve!

Nadine Ijewere

She is 19 years old London based free-lance fashion- photographer. Check her website or facebook,
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1483234805

To me, I remember knowing her when she used to moan about her GCSE grades being bad when she already had A*s and As and laugh at my poor Alevel grades. We used to talk a lot about Japanese Anime, Asian cinema and what not. But she never discussed about her passion for photography until few years ago I bumped into her in facebook. I think her pictures are amazing and am glad she did photography instead of science or business. I could spent hours talking what I like about her pictures but summarising them in few points I would say the use of colours, exploration of themes, combination of ethnicity and fashion.

Here are few images I stole off her. Sorry the quality is shit but I recommend you go through her webpage and browse through this prodigy.

Usha Pun aka Queen Enigma

A free-willed photographer based in Kathmandu, Nepal and also professionally working as a photographer for Nepalese Magazine called Navyaata.

Her facebook page is
http://www.facebook.com/EnigmaOhEnigma?sk=wall

I vividly remember of her that day I scrolled through her photo album baffling. Since that day I have known her and till today we still keep in contact. To me, she is much more of an elder sister figure I adore and respect.

Her style of photography differs. Instead of holding into one theme she explores from the gritty black and white quality images to the colourful nature,from the hungry little kid from street to the highly glamorous Model on extravagant outfit.

The photos I really like of her are the self portrayal ones which usually gives me impression of Francesca Woodman. Very dark yet beautifully imposed. Every little gesture speaking it's own story.

Below are few of the bad quality pictures, I have taken off her Deviant art and Facebook. I recommend you go through them both.

Plateau

2011-08-30T13:54:00.008+01:00

2011-08-27T12:31:00.009+01:00

Plateau

2011-08-25T12:10:00.002+01:00

By the time I turned back towards the room, she was already wrapped in a deep sleep; all I could see was my reflection in the glass door and her faint presence beneath it. On a sofa she lays with her legs closed placed under her bum sideways and arms clasped together, her body glistening on the bright light. Her eyes were gently closed and her hair hung and lingered around the shoulder like the complimenting stems of strangler figs, protecting her. It was all allegorical.

2011-08-18T17:35:00.003+01:00

No more stories.

Newquay

2011-08-15T19:45:00.005+01:00

It's good sometime you get drunk on the cliff of the mountain listening the swirling wind, the howling of the monstrous tides slapping the rock.
It's good sometime purifying your worthless soul in sea, reminiscing your past and also forgetting all your past.

Newquay was amazing and was the beautiful sea, as it was the first time I witnessed the madness of hulk sea, it was emotional, personal and just overwhelming.
I enjoyed my time there.

Nottingham University Park

2011-08-06T19:25:00.003+01:00

2011-08-04T23:13:00.011+01:00

Colwick Park.

Wollaton Park, where The new Bat man, The Dark Knight Rises was shot. Apparently it's suppose to be Bruce Waynes new Mansion. Wow! fascinating how films are made in various locations.

Hollywood to Nottingham. Wonder who came out with this concept.

Swell

Few pictures I took with my mobile phone. Life is better this way. Run Run Run..

- Colwick Park

-Wollaton Park

-Swell

- Empty Wine bottles for whoever will be staying in my previous room.

Where would you go?

2011-08-02T12:37:00.003+01:00

Marathon

2011-07-23T13:01:00.002+01:00

Ancient Greek Μαραθών, Marathōn , a town northeast of Athens. Phidippides the Greek ran the distance from Marathon to Athens to deliver a message regarding the Battle of Marathon. The modern sport of marathon running is based on a run approximately the same distance.

The last drag was taken, holding that paper made filter bud; I squeezed it into that pint glass/ ashtray almost filled with ashes and spat the bitter saliva to kill the fire out of it. Ahhh what a feeling, I said.

So what were you saying Harry?
Ooonestly man, we can do this, we can pull it off. All you gotta do is carry the parcel yahh!! Directed to some random address in England and that’s done. If they even caught it on it’s way all they gonna do is ask you about what you are holding?

And that point you just have to tell them it was send by some white guy in Nepal to his relatives. And you had no idea what the content was. I have done that before man and my girl still does. But mann the thing is we do it from India right, and there are loads of people doing at the same time!!!! So it’s difficult. The competition there is high and risk is severe.

I was just stunned with what he was saying with my eyes and mouth wide open, I could just listen because I had no idea what the hell he was saying. Though all his English made sense to me it just sounded jibberish.
He continued babbling,

OK tomorrow I will get you some money, You can get the first ticket to Nepal for next week . What do you say?

What, the fuck! When did I become drug smugglers? I questioned myself.

He took his worn out brown leather wallet and started scattering notes of 50, I was too drunk to even concentrate on what was happening anymore so with fascination/shock I closed my eyes. Money wasn’t what I was searching for then.

I see myself dressed up in a two piece linen suit walking on a red carpet, flashing lights, girl with the legs of Greek goddess, smell of sly hyena holding my left hand as I wave all the people around with my mouth open. Is that a smile?
Looks like, I have made it, I have finger-fucked everything to get here and now I am successful , seems like I have money, woman, status and what not. The day was supposed to be my latest novel, The woman on Red Chuba’s Premier. It was my break through point. I have over-flooded Asia and Europe with this new novel.

the story involves, 17 years old village girl from rural district of Mustang falling in love with an struggling 32 years old, English writer who is in Nepal for a change, running away from his past. The novel was meant to untangle the complexion between the romances in different culture and question the readers on challenges the characters faces and let them respond to it. It reflects how far human can go to prove their existence.

I see, Dean now is a romantic writer, he writes lovey dove-y novels that has made him this person what he is now. I heard once he wasn’t like this at all. He was a misfit who used to live in a debt piled room, drink everyday and cause trouble to anything and everything he ever laid his eye into. Rumour says that every girl he ever tended to love left him, because of his insecurity, his regular drinking habits and what not.
He wrote tones and tones of short stories on his mischievous life and happenings but never got published nor did he ever got recognised by his peers. Until one day he left his town, life, friends, family, everything and moved to Paris, where he found a lady named Andrea who changed his life and that’s when he started writing Romantic novels which changed his carrier, life and nothing.

That’s when I opened my eyes,

Holy shit, fuck fuck. It’s all over the floor.
God Damn it, holy stinking fly. It’s all over the floor.
Harry was shouting.

I got up from the floor, wiping the drooling mouth and said, What the hell is going here? As I turned around I see my friend Wilson spacing out looking at the wall, through the wall, through the next room, through that old retired lady’s vagina till nowhere. Dark side of the moon was humming in the background. Harry was sniffing the floor with his ass facing towards me like a hyena licking blood of a left over deer carcass in South Africa.

Shiit!! all my Coc, got spilled. It was worth 2hundred pounds. I can’t let go! Mannn can’t let goo! Do you want some? You can come sniff it off this carpet mannn!
He offered.
I am okay; I am fine with my bottle of red wine. I replied and started wiping that nightmare with swigs of wine. I picked myself up and got on a bed next to space monkey, Wilson and watched another ape sniffing his cocaine off the carpet facing his red constipated ass to me till the next morning.

The Fade

2011-07-09T23:23:00.005+01:00

A little work for my friend's band The Fade

2011-07-08T19:29:00.003+01:00

Portraits

2011-07-03T21:48:00.003+01:00

These two paintings were done by my friend Nicola Marriot for her foundation final show. What do you think?

To me she has always been an inspiration, a friend to whom I can talk about art freely. She is amazing but hard to get in touch. She loves to hide away from everyone haha

Dorian Grey can suck chris browns dick, I think I look better than him in these paintings.
Half of the people from town now says hello, because of these amazing work of Nicola.

Oh oh mate, I have seen your paintings, they are fucking amazing ya kno!
that's what I hear.

Ordinary madness

2011-06-29T03:23:00.007+01:00

ah he will come back, I responded and
cut the phone off that in the first place shouldn't have been made.

She said she goes to bed at 6 pm so that see can wake up 3 in the morning, when the wolf, Jasper is brewing for her.
I myself thought it was a joke. But then staying up late at her house.I would hear the noise of silent four limbed creature trolling towards the living room.Little did I know that Miriam, she always slept there instead of her bed because of the way she could enjoy the "excess amount of space", as she explained.

One night as I woke up at bit an usual time of 4 :58 am, I could hear a noise as if someone was either being tortured or being pleasured. The rhythm of enthusiasm and extortion was involved in my ear as the noise was bashing as a heavy bass in my ears.

I walked slowly to her living room, where all the banging, screaming and growling was coming from. I thought Miriam might have been attacked by her pet animal but all suspicion was only to find out a long 6 foot tall wolf scrounging around the open legged Miriam, Jasper would make three circle around the table where Miriam is openly slept naked.Like a ritual, they both would look each other seducing.

Is this shenanigan? I hammered myself.

As Jasper howls a little teasing her and gently steps towards her and licks her Muffin like a cat licking a milk.

The things they were practising in that room was unseen, unheard and never imagined. All I could do was squint my eyes, rub them again and again and pinch myself to check if I was real. Fuck! Fuck! Heaven's cock, what is this?

Oh what a site I thought, as I witnessed the ordinary madness of creatures.

I wonder why we are called Human?

Elephant never forgets but sure any little creature could remember this reality, even a tiny ants or cockroaches know what on earth that was and would be scared for their sacred little life.

Dean surely was scared for his next 9 lives. But this wasn't the only madness he had to witness in that den of Miriam, She had 36 birds of all types, how would a man like him know what they are and where the heck those little creature came from. All he knew was to drink a bit of whisky, talk to cats and eat a bit of tuna.

Miscellaneous

2011-06-25T13:56:00.011+01:00

General Panda

Who invited him here?

Sunny day in Arboretum

I got these asian friends for sale, you can find them running around.
They are reliable and can drink the shit outta alcohol. Or smoke
like chimney or that rattling train trailing through Darjeeling.

Told you, They even wear glasses.

This guy is so cool.

Woman I could never sleep with.

Ghost

Tim Hopper, friend from third year Fine art, his work

and again.

Sabrina, my baby russian and Tom my baby English.

Prick

Dick

Nutcase

Awwww, shut up now

Stroking Smellys cat, girl from This is England and Shameless.
I am helping her brother to design his nameless band an album
cover/ t-shirt and so on.
Those bastards need to come up with the band name so that I can actually
start doing something.
That's the beaut there
That's Julian, the guy who I am supposed to be helping, with his dick out.
The Nameless band

Now this is orgasm, Brit Floyd.

The Fade

2011-06-19T21:44:00.010+01:00

My democracy II

2011-06-19T13:26:00.005+01:00

If there is another royal massacre, I would be the first to shoot my democracy.
Paint that blue curtain into bloody red.

Oh democracy, Blame me! Blame me for your pain, Oh my dear democracy. Blame me.. Blame

Let's burn more children in middle east, let the nature take it's place, few
tsunami isn't enough

fat man and little boy didn't do enough.

the horrors of crying mother, fumes of burning flesh, destruction of your lovely architect is never enough.

Blame me! Blame me! blame me for being human animal instead of an animal human,

Wonder how many cats need to be murdered for our curiousities.
Wonder how long these trees and ananimals had to witness the madness of two legged us.

word of mouth

2011-06-15T12:52:00.000+01:00

Tyler The Creator - She (feat. Frank Ocean)

2011-06-05T13:09:00.005+01:00

I call this a love song.

soothing baby

2011-06-03T10:34:00.010+01:00

eyes wide open witnessing the miracle on this glass house, all that was visible in front of me was the pale female laying next to me, too pale that it was glowing. She smiles in her sleep as her long hair is tied around her head like a crown.

Miraculous, I thought.

Is this the whore who caught me? or is it the saviour sent from heaven to save my soul?
I chanted.

Fuck saviour, They were all killed the day when animal turned human.

I peer around, I could see a glass of red wine, loads of letters being pinned on the wall, a record player and few discs and a guitar with many unnecessary stuff. The only thing that got my attention was a brown leather man's brogue which unfortunately wasn't mine.

Now, question started to brew like beer, all fizzy and everywhere dispersing. Why on earth am I in this room and who is this lady next to me?

Did we fuck? DID WE MAKE LOVE?
When did I get here?
When should I leave?
Where am I?

Thought questions like this were useless so, instead I peeked on her sleeping smile and watch her gently move her hips like a cobra stretching like yourichi (my beloved cat) on a sunny day of May. How exotic?

I leaned ahead and whispered, Do you want me to leave?

She whispered, No and gently kissed my dried lips.

Staggeringly, I embraced her kiss and lied down next to her like stacked cups we were attached and like buttons we were perfectly made. Skin smothering each other and caressing the body heat.

Gently, I crawl my right hand under her T-shirt, pressing her boobs as she gently moans, hmmmff.. with no hesitation I try scope inside her bra but it's too tight for my fingers to get in. Therefore I used my left finger do it's magic. One hand to open a bra. Phewwww... one of the most important thing I learnt from my past relationship and hell I have mastered it. Fondling her cotton like soft breasts with button like nipples. She had me in a position where I could do anything and she would just lay there moaning. My eyes didn't need kaleidoscope nor I need telescope to tell where my body snakes like finger was heading. Obviously the den, underneath. Her Martha.!

It lasted for next 2 minutes/2 hours and the romance died like it always does. As my hangover starts to pill of my skin, the conscious starts to hammer me back. Bang Bang Bang. Who is she?

Who is she?

Lincoln

2011-06-02T23:05:00.004+01:00

Roaming around like I'm ready for a funeral

2011-05-31T20:55:00.011+01:00

2011-05-26T12:50:00.009+01:00

Come see me next week at salt water, I will be playing with my band, She pleaded.

A 5 foot 4, fair, short red headed girl. It was roughly 3 am in the morning.chilly wind was swirling with the smell of aftermath of the overly partied town. There she was standing in front of me drunk. She to me seemed like a fox with a sly intentions.

Me, drunk

I am sorry but by then, you will be my girlfriend, I replied and with no hesitation I grabbed her head gently pulling her face towards me and kissed, which she seemed to enjoy more than I did.

( Now that is beauty, all the hollywoodisque romanctic scenes were no match to the swag I was wrapped with ) James Dean had no match, Fuck Johnny Deep and Pattinson can suck my dick.

By the way, what was your name, She replied.

Dean, babaeeh , it's Dean.

Wait a second.

Now, let's rewind time and analyse why was I standing in front of Bodega with this girl I don't even know? and where the hell is this ego coming from? when did Dean get into my soul?

you and me, making us three in numbers. the other one

t0 be continue-

love song

2011-05-24T15:24:00.006+01:00

Let's talk about masturbation, chewing chillies, scratching dirty ass hole and compliment the discussion with constipations.- Genesis: 10: 2(my sperm)

Chapter II

Whore. Whore, I need one of them more than they need me/my money. I want a slag more than anything.

I need an Editor, an editor more than my writing. I want editor more than everything.

I remember her last squealing, the last sense of lust and her sadness that night. As my hands were wrapped on her cotton like soft ass chicks, I was kissing her cherry lips, thinking this is the END! My baby, my editor; my everything. Her mulligan’s like smile was vanishing. The silence spilling like a red wine on a marvel made floor. Everything was gone. My writing went berserk, my health gone and so was my concentration.

All I could write then was god damn; melancholic Shakespearean shit and I don’t even read that. In fact I haven’t read any. All I need now is a whore who sleeps once in 2 days and because of constant drinking and fucking that she looks like a pig hit by a sledge hammer. All out of place but she has to be God’s chosen whore. It took me 12 months to let Christy my former girlfriend, my editor understand what writing meant to me. Now she is gone and even if I try getting her back she wouldn’t understand a word I write, she wouldn’t get anything. There is no bound between me and her and obviously not my thoughts. FUCK HER.

Anyway getting back on whore, we are in different table so the cards are dealt differently therefore, I will take 2 days to let my baby whore understand the essence and secret of my writing and make love with her 7 times a day, feed her well till she get back her beautiful face.

All this said but finding an angelic whore is harder than finding Kohinoor. The amount of question lingering in my head is too much and finding a whore is the only answer that makes sense. Everything I created was/is in my head. All I knew and know now is, it’s not me who is looking for her but she is the one who is going to find me. Like a hurricane Katrina she will strike me one day. ONE FUCKING FINE DAY.

If The Revolution Won’t Be Televised The Apocalypse Will

2011-05-14T19:21:00.002+01:00

And I will punish the World for their evil and the wicked for their iniquity; and I will cause the arrogance of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the Terrible. I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man the Golden Wedge of Ophir. Therefore I will shake the Heavens, and the Earth shall remove out of her place.
- Isaiah 13: 9-13

If the Revolution won’t be televised, the Apocalypse definitely will.
The Revolution will be tricky...The Apocalypse, that’s t.v gold
nothing whips the squares into grotesque hysteria like a good disaster
a wave derailing a train full of Indians is like a Paris Hilton nipple slip
be absolutely sure of it, the Apocalypse will be televised
it will be coming straight to your living room
it will be presented by your favourite token blonde anchorwoman
it will be brought to you by Coca Cola and Rolex
it will be in your Pubs and on those big TV screens in train stations and airports
men on sofas will scratch there balls while the flesh of babies burn in the bush
it will be on 24 hour rolling news, even on your ordinary channels
missed it? Catch it On Demand.
it will be the Greatest Show on Earth
it will be in 3D and the Mail on Sunday will be giving out those ridiculous 3D glasses
the television will turn this thing into a ratings competition
the best image of a pregnant woman being swept away in a Tsunami
the best image of a herd of elephants dying a slow death on cracked soil
the best close up of a fly on a babies face.
These will be the iconic images of the spectacle
and after long enough they won’t mean anything
we’ll become impervious to death, even to the thought of it
the cries for help won’t mean anything
until it happens on OUR soil
it’ll just be like one big budget TV drama
you’ll get your stupid charity fundraisers so Jane from the office can go to work in her pyjamas
and your children can go to school as characters from a Disney Movie
there’ll be the death of a celebrity, which will be very important
there’ll be product placement on the sides of our bomber planes
brave politicians, smiling politicians, waving politicians, sending their troops to slay brown people for their food, their water or their oil, but it won’t matter
NO, a death count is just words and numbers to somebody behind a box
messianic types will preach prophecies from the worlds famous landmarks at six o’clock
We’ll become certified news junkies
waiting for the next instalment of Doomsday like it’s Desperate Housewives or 902010
the chatter will be of, ‘did you watch it last night?’, with eerie nonchalance
we’ll be hooked, drugged, passive, asleep, gazing
and in the commercial break people with big flat screen TV’s in comfy armchairs will nip to the kitchen for peanuts and beer
And it will be the same repeated sequence of HELL
the image of a village being ripped from a hill in a mudslide
and it will all be done in High Definition

-Tom Regal

Final project

2011-05-14T18:45:00.006+01:00

I am blindly heading towards this project just to get myself self-motivate and make my life as a part of my work showing my loyalty to my work which according to Hindu culture is a tradition for fasting, a religious process. To me since I started my first year in University, I don’t think I have done anything that has reflected clearly what I wanted to do and where I want to take my work in future. So, I generally found myself lost and tangled in all sort of problems. That’s the whole reason I wanted to restrict myself from something that’s basic need and suffer to concentrate. As a punishment, as a present as anything to concentrate on Art, I wanted to lose weight in 2 months of time starting on 12th of Feb- 12th of March.

Rules

I am not on a diet, I will eat anything I want but if my instinct tells me I have had enough I will make myself throw up.

I will photograph whatever I eat and everything I throw up.

I will perform on physical exercise for 15 minutes or more and note the time of when and what time I do it.

By any means in two months I will lose 12 kilo grams.

Research

Statement of Intent
Everything done and gone. Exhibition didn't go as well as I planned but that's why it's a learning process. No more nakedness, no more running in the middle of the day with jacket on, no more starvation, No more. No more

But there are many things waiting for me, manything I am waiting for. Many concepts, many ideas, Many routes and paths.

Honestly hahahah a what the hell am I even typing?
Fuck this.

Home coming

2011-05-07T08:01:00.003+01:00

“Are you looking for a job? Or just planning to sink in debts”, she asked.

“What you on about!? I am already employed; In fact I have more passion for my work than you have for yours combined, funny thing is, when I am working I loose more money than I make!”
I replied.

“Now stop bull shitting and eat your meal and start looking for Job”, Father responded...and here I was staring at my plate full of rice, a traditional Nepalese dish “alu dum; boiled potato in tomato pastry with light vegetables mixed on the side to go along with fat- rich pork gravy with it’s liver and blood. Everything seemed and smelt like home. The irony was my body had been away from a Motherly dish for some time now, and so it tasted almost alien to me. I played with my food more than I ate. I muted my brain and all I could see was my 4 foot 3 inch mother making all kinds of faces, going red, getting angry at everything and annoyed about every little creature living. The breadwinner wannabe, Father, just sat there with his bulldog face, “listening”. It’s quite an easy thing to look like you are listening, harder to do it.

“I hope you are not drinking too much! Son, even the birds and animals know how to give birth and look after their kids. But we are human, we have to be civilised, we have to look after each other until the day of our demise.” Mother said.

I nodded, spacing out, observing the materialistic fake Chinese ceramics and decor placed around the lounge.

“Mother when did we become Chinese?” I replied.

“YOU OX. Are you listening to what I am saying, or are you just blowing out my words with your farts? Don’t you ever forget why me and your Pa came to this country? Mother snapped.

...and of course, she was correct. Those precious words of hers were evaporating out of my rear end before I even had time to process the first few syllables of her words. Not that it mattered.

“Fuck you MAA! I drink everyday and now alcohol has started to taste better than your breast milk did; I have been to police station four times, for brawling, stealing, causing a ‘disturbance’ and vandalising, I have received 23 neighbour reports for noise pollution and 3 letters from the council concerning this stuff and you’re talking to me about civilisation?”

That’s what I wanted to say, although I figured she might have fainted with a dose of reality heavy. I doubt her nerves could’ve handled a reflex like that. It was the atomic bomb that took out Hiroshima, except I decided not to drop it. Instead, I kindly started to lower my voice and proceeded to act sober, which I quite clearly wasn’t, and asked...

“Mother what happens when beer starts replacing water?”

I had already anticipated the type of reply I was going to get from a person who has been drinking for the past 20+ years and so instead I got off the couch and ran upstairs towards the rest room. I was running up the stairs like a fox on a hare hunt and from below I could hear my Ma screaming, “You BASTARD DON’T TELL ME YOU ARE ALCOHOLIC NOW!!”
I locked myself in the toilet and began fingering my tonsils until the till all the alu, masu, bhat and acharr shot out of my mouth like lava. I was Mr Mount Fuji. I hurled everything that was inside my stomach and more. Mixed in all this puke were her words – I wasn’t letting them digest, not today.

I love you MA, I confessed as I missed the toilet basin and threw up on the carpet she had placed around the toilet base, to show off. Instead of cleaning up, I went to the sink and began to piss, resting my penis on the rim and flicking my hair backwards, looking into the mirror in front, looking like James Dean. A warm, drunk piss in a sink is enough to make any man feel real good about his life for a quick flash. It’s a shame you women have to piss sitting down.
Sometime ignorance is the only way. To me, it has always been that way.

A dumb stumbles once whereas the intellectual does ten times.
लाटो लड्छ एक बल्दाङ्ग, बाठो लड्छ दस बल्द्यङ्ग।

I think our writing is what killed Osama Bin Laden?

2011-05-02T12:22:00.006+01:00

This is what happens when impossible happens, this is what happened when Hitler was having an orgy with Churchil and 52 other black woman, 2 white and 8 japanese-french.

This is what we drank.

This is how much we pissed.

Down it. Dinner with mother terresa and jesus in hell
Kidnap an American Apparel bitch. Lock her in my basement. Feed her tuna chunks through air vents.rape 16 times in 2 hours and feed the same food again and again. BECAUSE WE ARE ALL SINNERS AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL. IT’S MY HEAD. Unicorns in my dick. FUCK IT. DOWN IT. DOWN IT. DOWN IT? Fuck a ROYAL WEDDING that shit only made me horny and yes I want to screw Kate Middleton on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, gag Prince WILLIAM with DUCK TAPE and tie him up and make him watch. We’re almost free men. But in your mind you’re completely free, so barbeque Sarah Palin and feed her to the Lion in your garage. Tsunami of 569i-9 hector hit the Buckingham palace, kill those royal shithead, kill all those horses and then wank all over again. GAVE UP ON JESUS. So give me sATANs phone number. Cause God wasn’t answering my prayers. Bible to wipe my ass and holy water to wash my dick. No man in the sky is going to tell me how to think. I will ejaculate four times a day. Buddha is high on coke jesus is fucking queen/whore Elizabeth. Picture that. And if you’re struggling to, I’ll resurrect Picasso and make him paint it for you. And fuck all his 14 wives together. An orgy is my plan/your gods idea cigarette cigarette cigarette more drink perhaps. What’s not to love about a Pubic hair. I have finished my overdraft already. My friend owes me 200 quid. CASINO? Gamble. I’m a fucking pervert. Give me a free house, a good pot of Vaseline and some quality porn websites and I will make the most beautiful love. My hand is a great Lay. Is an arsehole more precious than a vagina? Who told you a maggot wasn’t beautiful. The field green as weed and my dick in her sloppy mouth in and out like a piston. Isn’t that romantic her eyes looking me with the look saying, “ babay you are my world and I am ready to do anything for you.” That was my romance., that is romance. Love soaked in romance. I INTERJECT. Has the light on this roof ever been in love? She looks lonely. How can I say I am in love when I have been in love with a pair of trainers, I have been in love with a cigarette, with a bottle of wine, with a girl and another girl, with music, with a sausage roll, with a pot of coffee, with the sunshine, with a cat, with a toilet seat, with a sock with a hole, with a soundtrack, with a road, a liquor shop, with a poster, with a poem, with a drunk piss against a wall – so how can you tell me love is a precious thing. LIPSTICK SMUDGE ON A STUBBED OUT HAND ROLLED CIGARETTE – that’s beauty. HE INTERJECTS. I still go places I used to go with you, I still think about the words you used to tell me. ANY MORE? The only difference now, I don’t have anybody with me now, but my shadow. REALITY. NOW. Do you think it is cold outside? Maybe. LESS OF US MORE OF THEM. BELEIVE ME. There are less of us than them. SO MUCH LESS. So what, we have to shout louder to be heard? We have to talk about sperm and shits and fucking and love and coughing up blood and these sorts of things. That’s how we shout. Because if you hide it in metaphor your going to be whispering. HE INTERJECTS. PEOPLE!? PEOPLE!? Who gives him the right. Five years I have to stay out of trouble. To Clean my RECORD. RECORD THIS...I INTERJECT. And so, when the world meets its fateful end, the sun will breath a regretful sigh and say, “What fools they all were”...SWITCH. DON’T WRITE POETRY – HOW THE FUCK DID I MISS THE LESSON. TOM, DON’T WRITE POETRY. HE interjects. IS interject even the right word? POETRY OF PISSING. At least that’s better than all the fancy bullshit you see the romantic messianic types writing...HE REALLY NEEDS AN EDITOR. It has to be a woman. Big ass? Big Boobs? All you need is a good sense of what I’m telling. A sense of everything, so she can understand, when I say WOMAN, she understands. I would take her
Even if she is bandaged all over her body, I will respect her, will fuck her now and then but she will make a life better.
A bit better/bitter/butter/sweetier........its funny. My family doesn’t know me. In reality they couldn’t handle me. In their heads I’m a nice boy, a nice boy with good grades...kiss aunty, cook dinner, do the hovering...ALCOHOLIC NARCOTIC ALREADY FORGOT IT DO I GOT IT LOST IT TRAPPED IT...Liquor is my drug...Spend more days hungover than I do sober...And it’s not because I’m sad, and it’s not because I’m unfulfilled...So why? Just because. Just because. My pubes is better than your boyfriend. Shoelace i will tell you where to find a devil, open your bible open your newspaper, turn on your radio, walk through a shopping mall, look at your television. I am done. Devil wears your skin and another vomit on the page. Speak to me, I tell him, as he sits on the bed in his boxers. Speech is only way out. I love my single life. I don’t have to think about Z**, pussy, none of that shit. YO. Baby I like it RAW -
OK. WE JUST ESCAPED FROM THE ASLYUM. MENTAL PATIENTS WITH NO FUCKING PATIENCE. ALMOST FREE MEN. ALMOST...peace is not the answer. The greatest peace of art comes from conflict because with conflict comes struggle and with struggle comes art and there comes art or is there? I will fuck octopus – And I’ll do a retarded Rhino, it’s fine though, cause I write slow. I Will FUCK O***** in her nose. Image an American President in drag at a swingers party. A Camel with a pipe. A tortoise on rollerblades and a rabbit with a poncho on...Arnold Swhezenager(?) is governer of California. “...he is a soft guy. *** knows the shit man....PLAY ANOTHER SONG. Shall I tell my mum that alcohol tastes much better than her milk? How long does a baby stay inside a woman – I say = ninety seconds, it’s just are minds tick slow. Us Humans are social animals, FUCK THAT SHIT, I AM A FUCKING ANIMAL. I will fuck a lion tomorrow. Fart is beauty women don’t get this shit. I drink i donnno why I drink so much i donno why#/?m because i am bored, because of boredom when you are drunk the normal thing flies and I cannot live sober don’t cortrecyt write just write just writre just write
Just have an orgasm and that;s the only way you can express. The only way.

Some dark vision, I get dark visionsI am a fucking Taliban. Put RIP tsunami victims. But youknow what
It;s fucking all on your television.there is no feeling
There is no feelings when it’s on te;evision. Anyway
Stanly open the door I goota goo.. tom open the fucking door
Tom open door
I won’t be alive in 423-970]8=2
Years. I will be gead
I will be gone. I will be plate on a tomb stone. I will be ashes on the soil and I don’t wanna be that. I might not leave this planet. I might actually wanna stay
When death comes I might negotiate.

~ IM going to p[iss inbottle. I pissed a bit on the carpet. This is my house.....................

AND BY THE WAY. THIS OUR THERAPY.SOME PEOPLE SEE A PYSCHAIRTRIST. SOME PEOPLE PLAY GOLF. SOME PEOPLE MEDITATE. SOME PEOPLE SLEEP. SOME PEOPLE WATER THEIR FLOWERS. SOME PEOPLE BRUSH THEIR HAIR. SOME PEOLPE BUY NICE CLOTHES. SOME PEOPLE GO FOR A MASSAGE TO CURE THEM. TO CURE THEMSELVES. THIS IS WHAT WE DO. VOMIT ON A PAGE AND GET ALL THAT FUCKING GARBAGE AND BEAUTY IN YOUR HEAD ONTO A PEICE ON PAPER. THAT’S ALL......”Son, what kind of world are you in to? Sometimes I wonder there is a (Translation complication) fur (FUR?!>!>!>!>!>) fur in your heart.......(CARRY THE FUCK ON).... CASSANOVA’s MUM WRITES POETRY. SHE WRITES IT IN TEXT MESSAGES. THAT IS POETRY....and now i see it. The ordinary person is the poet. FUR IN THE HEART!.......FUR .. oh it feel like I am the firts person to walk in the moon I am pissing on your shoes I am pissing in your shoes, I just pissed on your shoes . it’s hot man.there is only love, it’s part of an equation= borrough’s. People have flies on their face, but America went to the moon. In fact you can pay £250,000 to fly into space with Richard Testicle Face Branson, while people have bellies like balloons and dictators rip fingernails out of the fingers of rebels. I wanted to fuck G*****, till she bleed blood from her nose, her saliva making my dick, why the fuck did yyou ignore me, you whore, goddam whore. They don’t understand fucking whores. They just want fucking guys all fashionable tall and they are fucking they know people around ..... that that thats what they wnat, sometimes i feel, i am cursed by nature, this fucking guy, ahhhh DEANN WHO THE FUCK IS THIS GUY.FUCK monkeys. Fuck Dogs. I am the king. The fucking Lion King. I wear these glasses so nobody can fucking see me. FUCK tyler. I will fuck Syd the kid, and make babies, and they will come out her arse, and I will name it TOM. I want to be the fucking man. SIMBA, from the Lion KING..............

FUCK HER IN HER FUCKIN NOSTREL. CAUSE AN ACCIDENT ON HER BODY..,,,,,,,ROCKET. HAMMER. DICK. AH FUCK MAN. WHO THE FUCK IS SAN***. Boxing gloves...................aqhh yes

If I down this beer, I will be step higher, i will be step higher to somthing in a ladder somthng up which has to come down tomorrow;, the ladder haqs to come down soon.,
What am I doing? B** B(( what am I doingf?/? what am I doing? Let me get tyou the fantasy
I wanna chop the head of every dj in this city, i wqanna plant bomb in all the club they play house music. Goddie GOODIE. SO, TOM. YES TOM. TOM? Tom/ Yeah, so what, in my life I am a goodie goodie, in other peoples eyes that’s me. Because i don’t like to fist fight because i can’t fucking fight. PHILOSOPHY OF GHANDI. MENTALITY OF MALCOLM X. STICK THAT? I’m not a violent man, but in my head I’ll fucking rip off your fucking testecles and serve them for a main course. And for pudding, I’d probably gorge your eyeballs and serve them with stick toffee sauce. You see. CAN’T GET VIOLENT BUT I’LL FUCKING DEEP FRY ANYBODY WHO TRIES TO QUESTION TRUTH AND MORALITY. There is a filter in my pocket but I have cut down but still smoking....

I CAN DO THAT MAN. IN ANY CLUB. I CAN GET A GITAUR AND DO THAT. I’LL FUCKING JUMP. HA..............I’m searching for ‘it’. If I find that one moment then I have lived a fulfilled life. ‘It’. That’s what I need. FUCK everybody dies unfulfilled, because you didn’t screw that girl that sat opposite you in assembly. SO we are all discontent. PISS IN A BOTTLE. This time it’s a vodka bottle. Oh, tom tom tom it’s alright, she said/ BUT YOU SEE, I WAS a fussy virgin, that whole shy thing, and the thing was I was worried putting my dick in the wrong place...commitment was an issue...but it was more about, where do I put my dick and how do I make love and do girls and boys orgasm at the same time...these things was what kept me cool and free for the good early days. THANKYOU CONSCIENCE. I wanna fuck her till she bleed f. F. F. YES, F. XX, you got the love. I cat piss a cigarette, but my cat never pissed in my house or in my garden. So does that make me more of a cat.
AND With this piece of music I feel the sun of summer 2010. FUCK YOU OF COURSE IT’s LAME. But all nostalgia is lame. The heat, the car, the drink, the spot, getting off with girls we don’t know and didn[‘t want to know...>ITS FUCKING SWEET. SUMMER AND THEN PIZZA FACTORY FOR CASSANOVA. The crunching noise the young birds, the kisses on her neck I could sense that, he was all on it, the chirping birds didn’t know shit about where tom’s dick was heading. And how slimy her pussy was and ready to get penetrated and rammed in.
IT TAKES 45 MINUTES TO DRINK A BOTTLE OF WINE. IT TAKES 30 SECONDS TO PISS IN ONE. .....shei is going to kill me..... she is going to kil me.! Shoot a porn video starring the pope and Courtney cox arquette. Storm the Oscars and screen it during the nominations for best picture, get Angelina Jolie, shreaking and get Charlie Sheen to present the rest of the show. In fact, get Mel Gibson to go head to head with a strong bearded Rabbai. THAT’s ENTERTAINMENT. Let the crowd choose who can fucking last longer its the fucking rap monger rap monster earl sweat attack conquer. CASSANOVA> GET OUIT OF FUCKINGBED! Drunk now? Shocked now? Rupert Murdoch has feet like a giraffe and a neck like a human. I cannot live my life without my dick erected, those veins needs blood and needs that vagina need a hard trunk muscle to penetrate it. The cigarette ran out off uss. Coming to the end of a can is never a pretty situation. Especially when you have to go back outside – ALMOST FER
FREe.
ALMoST.
this is not manufactured this is just written from the fingers. I thin k my fingers have a mind of their own. Put them on a keyboard and they will write put them on a pysssy on theY will rub./;....

OH Shit my phone died. A**************************************************** on my fucking it’s a wplf gang. Id rather sleep in.
...HE - I CANT LEAVE THSI BED, *IM SDO FUCKED, ME TOO . ME Too. SO lets say what we have just done is beauty. That is beauty. That is all that needs to be said. SIGNING OFF. XXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxx

2011-04-29T10:22:00.006+01:00

Reading an old blog I posted when I first started blogging and unfortunately my writing was better then to what I write now. All simple and less influenced. Pendulum stops and the time flashes back

II

2011-04-17T21:25:00.015+01:00

This blog is a sequel to the blog I wrote last year entitled ''I '' but this time I am not going to give out every details as I have mentioned before. Writing to me now has become something to save for. I feel I am not ready to share and neither you all are ready for my words.

Prior to the content, I am sure you won't be bored.

Say you what I will start with this blog I posted awhile ago, and I was mentioning about seeing Charlotte Anderson from the front magazine and my crafty talk, alcohol, nakedness and what not... but forgetting to realise the cat like friend I was with that night that she was not just my friend but already been modelling for many magazines .I come to found out she had already been posted as cover girl formagazines like Front, Bizzare and so on.

There you go, I present you Emily Johnston and if she finds about this blog, she will definitely eat me alive and thanks to you fuckers but also since I will be sharing house with her and other mates from University if anything goes wrong, I am fucked. I am putting my friendship on line to just blog so, yeah.

Anyway She is a great artist so go check it out. If you are perfectionist then you will jizz on your pants with all the details she put on her work.

This was on an Anime Convention a while ago. There she won the sketching contest drawing a Dragon Ball Z character but with added humour.

That was on her exhibition where I drank 13 cups of red wine and lost my god damned mind.
After that gallery show Emily and her friends put on , I got too drunk and got kicked out from every possible bars in Nottingham and like a local myth according to my friends I was appearing and disappearing from every where.
According to few of my friends I was
Running in the middle of town alone completely off my face,
Ringing 4/5 people to tell them I am okay and talk jibberish.
Shouting, I was gonna get myself a woman.
Quote of the night,
Franklin : Oh, I am gonna get myself a chair.
Me; Oh no dear, these knees here they are made for you. You can seat on my lap.
Franklin: RIGHT YOU TWAT

Now according to Police,
I broke into someone's house thinking that's where I lived.
Well, yeah I spent the night in shell, Cops came and took me from my room. Don't have much memories but this is few of the stuffs I got back, like a fucking souvenir right?

Yeah I need to go back and pay for the damage I have caused. Atrocious! isn't it? The irony is I was so sure that I was in the right house and since my keys weren't working, I was kicking the door in frustration.

As soon as I got out of police station, Instead of being all sad and depressed. I picked my drunk self up and went to art Talk because I am devoted to my art.
someone said, I love art and art loves me back. exactly, In style I made my way towards..

Who knew whole fucking University friends would know what I did the night before?

The live talk was in Nottingham Contemporary by Huang Yong Ping and below are few of his works; I enjoyed his talk very much as I don't know if it was me or the alcohol that enjoyed his chinese rage and french lovely accent. All I know is he looked like a person full of Zen.

I managed to track him down outside Broadway and there we are father and son. Since, he couldn't speak English he was talking to me in french as I was replying in English. I told him genius like us don't need language. He said, I look like a person who's going to do something in future. I said RIGHT OLD MAN!right now we are talking.

All that, who knew I just got out of jail for breaking someone's door with no sleep still loving life.Obviously Ping didn't!!!

I thought, I had quiet a long day so why not go watch a film, to give my already mad mind a bit more madness. I watched The Silent house in Broadway,adding some spark in my flaming life.

All this happened and still I went out the same night to the same bars where they kicked me out the night before/the morning to smile at the bouncers and say I AM FINE!

Project 21

2011-04-13T12:36:00.006+01:00

All done baby all gone, weight is gone, love is gone, starvation is gone. Now it's all a summer mess.

I lost 1.9 stones for this project which started on 12th of February 2011 till 12th of April 2011

Briefly stating this was my present/punishment for myself turning 21 years old but I don't fucking think you people want to know why I did it? so yeah. Call it a Madness and as it's finish let's celebrate with this song.

Norwegian Wood

2011-04-09T17:45:00.018+01:00

This film is an adaptation from a novel sharing the same name by Haruki Murakami which I read last summer and enjoyed, I actually enjoyed it very much that I almost started to feel like I was Toru and Norwegian wood was the place where I belonged. Whether that was the book effecting my summer or not, I don't know.

These here are few of the many screen shots that I like or dislike I don't know. All I know is that those readings last summer of Norwegian wood holds a very special place in me.

Toru Watanabe

Midori

Naoko

Project 21

2011-04-03T16:10:00.015+01:00

Loose 12 kilo grams in 2 months.

12th of February

26th of March

What? Why? How come?

from Dean with love

2011-03-31T21:15:00.012+01:00

No more free writings to you fellow shitheads. No more love letters to you dickheads.
All you handsome are going to see now is my naked body and my vomit squirting all directions with love/hate because I am busy myself revising my roots, my origin, my belonging. This shit head influenced me too much now all I can do is read his blog and watch his fat belly getting fatter as his art works explodes bigger. No homo but you are still my first love of art along side Chinaski.

You fat cunt, hope you fuck Sasha Grey soon enough.

David Choe

She

2011-03-26T10:42:00.023Z

It all started with Phlebas. No actually it started with the Bus,double-decker front seat on top.

I said, So what are you doing tonight then?

Ahh fuck knows man, go get drunk, see some azzzzn pussies and so on, Vj replied. He is a young man/my cousin who is on a holiday to Nottingham from London, which he does every 2/3 months and wastes his money, all his money.

Bless, his poor little soul, I thought. He has been my saviour for past 5 years of my knowing of his presence.

He started telling me London stories of him getting drunk, getting drunk, getting drunk. They were all stories of him getting drunk, some of them were of him getting on a fight, some nearly being bisexual, some of them of him tripping on drugs and many were of him trying to get girls number and always getting rejected. We laughed and joked on his jokes. He reminded me of Neal Cassidy but he is more of a looser compared to Neal's holy soul.

Our Journey to Phlebas wasn't very interesting but it sure was going to be after, as we two fellow asian outcast were standing in front of the club dominantly packed with white kids. I was somewhat excited to go and cause a havoc but other-side of me was less interested in disturbance.
May be I am sober, I thought.

As this was happening, I met my friend Mily, a beautiful blonde, possessing soul of a butterfly and smell of wildcat. She walked in flying right and left with a smile on her face. She introduced me to her friend Kim? Anyway I was less interested on introducing everyone than to get pissed so I said, This is Vj pointing towards my cousin and Now let's get fucked.

Vj informed me that, it's time for him to leave. He swapped his note of twenty to mine of ten and saved me again for the million and fifty third time and he walked away like a lonewolf on a mission to fuck, kiss, rape, fight, trip or whatever.

I went in, with the walk of James Dean, looks of Tadanobu Asano and smell of Lion. I was strong and so were few of them among hundreds. I went to the bar and ordered. 3 vodka and redbull and downed all in a minute and handed the beautiful bar lady my note of 20. She smiled and said, Going hard already aye!

Don't worry this is just the beginning. You will be seeing me all night, I replied.

The alcohol wasn't working with my body. I thought I have become immune to it so, I tried shaking up myself by dancing but that wasn't helping me either. I said Mily, I am off to get more drinks after spending a while in the dance floor. I was off towards the bar with my head held high pushing and gushing my way ahead. As, I stand waiting for the bar lady to serve me, there comes a lady. Oh no! I thought myself.

Not again.! Not you!

She hasn't changed since the last time, she was riding me and definitely not since I last spoken to,I whispered my brain.

HEYYYYYY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? she asked. Yes and all her speech were on capital fonts, I could sense them. She gave me a hug and as I was wrapping her around myself, I felt the lost of her weight or was mine but them breasts were still the same, calmly kept, smiling at me.

Hariette Harper, 4 years ago, she was my friend, more than friend less than a girl friend. which according to Vj was a fuck buddy.I realised he was correct then.

And I said oh! yeah just came with some of my friends from Uni!!

We had that awkward 2 minutes conversation where she did the talking, boobs shaking and fixing her corset to seduce me whereas I was thinking about Pandas and what if they were green and red coloured by nature?

The talking was done so we said goodbye to each other. Facing towards the bar, I ordered for 3 jagerbombs. She smiled and said, You again!

I replied, Yes babe! All yours for the night.

She giggled and said, You wish! hehehehe kidding, like a sly fox as she put down my drinks. I picked one after another and downed them in less than 20 seconds and whispered her,

Darling seems like you don't listen to your heart.
Anyway give me a bottle of beer and keep the chains.

I hand her a note of five. She just kept giggling and trying to seduce me. I turned away from her and as I was about to walk up towards the dance floor Mily walked in and so did the girl with camera, stopping by to take picture of me. I never liked camera when some people are taking pictures without my permission especially when I know it is going on some website floating around. But Mily was too excited about it so all my rage was put to nothing and we took one.
She was beautiful, very beautiful photographer. A tall pale, black haired with sky like blue eyes, as everyone from all different direction were gazing her movements, her presence and indulging on her smile.
Yeah so, well you just took my picture. Can I take yours now?, I said

She giggled and said Oh no! No no!

Well that's cheeky of you, I replied. And walked my way towards the dance floor as Mily was explaining her friends on how Suave, I was and how everyday I dress very cool . Yeah, all the kinda conversation which puts me on the wrong place. I said oh no! No no! myself giggling like the photographer and walked away from them feeling uncomfortable.

By that time, I realised I was like a lost soul hallucinating and loitering like a fish on a bowl. The place was too small for me. It was the photo girl I wanted, the photographer who I had already seen around locally usually outside my University handing leaflet for Phlebas and how can I ever forget her naked body glowing like a candle in the darkness, those perfect breasts and her undemanding natural smile on Front magazine. Charlotte that was her name. Oh dear Oh dear! my heart said to me.

Then, I thought of that edition of Front, her boobs, white leopard like body and where on earth the magazine might be laying in my room. I also thought how I came across that magazine and so on. Questions were floating in the air like a summer fireflies in Nepal. I had enough of it, I said
I needed more drinks before I do anything stupid AGAIN! so instead I went back to the same bar checking my pockets only to find coins everywhere. No more notes, meant low on cash. Therefore the only way to get pissed off my face was to drink more spirits.

I demanded the same lady who had been serving me for 5 more Jagerbombs and there it came. She didn't say anything this time. She knew her place. We were both happy but just all opposite. She slightly smiled as I drank my drink slowly taking my time peering the madness of the crowd, finishing off my drinks I said, Hey there Can we,I have one last of it again!! Jagerbomb! My English wasn't making sense any more not that it ever made in the first place.

I laughed at my own ENGrISH and walked away from the bar. As I was standing sipping my last drink enjoying, the weirdness of people. The summer spirit, tattoos, piercings, hair styles, life styles, dressing sense and all but same.They all looked like a massive factory production of silk print from Andy Warhol's factory.SHIT!. A wagon of the pop-culture and me on the other side trying to save those poor souls. But I didn't bother much and kept drinking while a stranger walked in and said, Hey I know you man.!

Do you? Wow well you should, so should all of these people. I replied pointing everyone and everything in every directions.

He laughed a little and responded, Oh yeah how did your wall painting go on DSCNTD

Ah, I was too crafty for that wall, it started crying as soon as I placed my brush in it. That bastard wall couldn't bear the beauty of the image I was painting.So, it fucking got ruined!! . But don't you worry I am doing some live painting soon, so you can come see me. I am Dean, I said

Before he responded me with anything. I said, oh man, I got to go and walked away. I met up with Mily and her friend and discussed what we were doing. It was half 2 in the morning so going back home was their idea which I wasn't happy with but the spirit of the club was wearing off so it wasn't a very bad choice either.

We walked out off the Phlebas, goodbying each other. And there she was, Charlotte looking at me, from the other side of the road. I didn't bother much, and neither did she as we both knew there wasn't much space for me in her soul. Instead I walked away singing,

I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you baby
Can you get enough of me.......

I got to my room unharmed which was a massive surprise. That made myself feel stupidly handsome. I thought I was on a movie set. The camera held on a tripod facing me ,all those 35 pairs of shoes floating, the hover dancing, 54 bottles of empty red wines, paintings hanging everywhere, clothes, bags , dirty plates , books, glasses,cigarette buds and 1000 other details being the props. I jumped around and kept singing

Oh, I was made, you were made
I can't get enough
No, I can't get enough

I was made for lovin' you baby
You were made for lovin' me.....

My genius self said, it was good I made a use of the camera and took a picture of most handsome guy in THAT film.

Then I went bed fully dressed and slept like the Lion King in his jungle, undisturbed.

I woke up the next morning tipsy.

The unearthly creature appeared out of no where and started doing all this following stuff. I was too afraid to witness him so I ran away from my room like a coyote on a chase.

New York

2011-03-23T20:40:00.007Z

hahahahahaha, Max what's wrong with your writing he asked?
I said? what!

why aren't you crazy anymore, she asked?

What? I said

Why are you so meloncholic, They asked?

what? I said

Max you know you are fucked up.

New York ( 1st March- 5th March)

2011-03-21T02:32:00.009Z

panda

2011-03-21T01:29:00.007Z

Too Late.

2011-03-20T14:48:00.008Z

She walked in slowly.
As she sat next to the bed paralleled to the one I was laying. I smelt the old fragrance, that beautiful but wearing off smell loosing it's strength. The window wide open hits the morning breeze. The sun ray welcoming summer, my romance light as Indian summer, casting on a white bed sheet and her body.

I watched her with silence, her grown up long hair and those perfectly rounded ass. Before she noticed my peering on her moment. I quickly looked outside the beautiful window. the view of Nantes, the pin drop silence, the handsome morning.
Then, she looked at me and said, Dean

I miss you

Ignoring her words, I kept looking outside. Instead I got off my bed and walked towards the window and peek my head outside breathing the fresh air. Facing up into the blue sky,I took a long breathe and said,

Do you remember, this time last year? Everything was perfect. There was a Hope lingering and Change was bloosming. Hope of love, needy love and the change.

I turned towards her just to find out her tears running down her soothing face. I could just watch it. I said,
Everything has fallen to it's place. Hasn't it?
She responded,

I need you Dean, I am feeling lonely. I am sorry for what I have ever done to bring us to this situation. For acting all ignorant and irresponsible. I really meant it.

I didn't say a word, I didn't wanted to. I turned towards the window and took my cigarette out of my pocket and lit it up. Enhaling and exhaling the grey misty smoke,watching it drift. I continued searching for something outside. Might be my past, my future, my soul, myself...
After sometime, I put off the cigarette and walked towards her and gave her a cuddle. and said.
You wanted it, I needed it.
She didn't understand what I was saying but she didn't complain or ask me what I meant or it meant.

I am acting all free and careless but I really do miss you.. I really do miss your kisses.Your late night readings, your stories, your voice, your presence, your odour.. She said.

Well, you do act well darling. I said.

I let her loose and walked towards mybed and layed down facing the light bulb, the white ceiling and my reflection of nothing. Then, I realised her gently crawling in my bed, placing her head on my chest as my heart was making that slow beats of dub, dub, dub like an undone tap and the falling grains of water, wrapping her fingers around my face she sleeps like a baby.

How long had it been since I last had that touch of her. 2,3,4 or even 10 years.

I thought.

I gently closed my eyes and by the time I woke up. I was in my bed all alone.

and it sure was late...

too late, Late for her callings, Late for the sun, Late for her fragrance, Late for the Norwegian wood.

Oh how much I love you.

2011-03-17T03:11:00.006Z

I was reading this when I was flying to New York and I loved the bit below.

HAHAHAHA, people like us know what hot beer shit means and what getting constipation drinking too much wines mean. OH YEAHHH

Softest picture of him,I have ever seen.

The best writting I have read in a long time.

2011-03-11T20:53:00.016Z

I thurst my hand to check what the time was,
It just wasn't the right time.

wrong time to think about time and wrong time to thurst my hand.

The plane begins to tremble, jerking all us passengers up,down, left and right. The pilot makes the announcement to fasten the seatbelts and not to worry as he explains about weather, height, weight, speed and soo on specially facts none of the passengers were worried about. The thing they wanted to know was whether their lives were secure or not.

I stood up a little off my seat with the belt strapped on me just to peek what was going ahead and back and Yes as I thought I saw stonecold face mumbling, closed eyes, chanting, seats being squeezed with their worried hands and so on. Then, I sat back and opened the window shutter next, just to witness the left wing flapping like the last remaining leaf of Cherry blossom fighting the wind of Autumn above the cloud which to me were like melting lava.

I was more than sure that the wing was going to break into pieces and the plane was going to get out of balance and fly towards the right side with massive free fall. I visioned massive hole infront of me created due to the hole made by the broken wing, people flying, shouting and the oxygen mask falling. I saw myself getting high on oxygen and thursting away from my seat to somewhere, nowhere.

I gently closed the shutter and said to myself,
Okay son, It's about a time.

I squezzed the plastic cup with a gulp of water left. With much effort, fighting back with the trembling plane I find my way to put that cup in my mouth and drank that priceless remaining water. It tasted better than any womens' kiss, even better than my mother's milk or the alcohol I always pray for.

I closed my eyes gently and waited for my death to embrace me and take me away from the reality. It lasted, might have lasted for minute or so on .. and

There came a voice lingering in a thin air
Attention please. Now we have passed the bad weather so you can relax and enjoy the flight. Thank you for your patience.

I opened my eyes on shock,
I came this close to my death and now they say I am safe?

I was more dissapointed to not see my vision come true than being alive, breathing.

Then I realised how much alcohol was still runing in my vein. With annoyance, I layed back unbelted myself and closed my eyes not to relax. Then I saw an angel 5'5 tall, long black hair with a bang leaning against the dark wall with glowing face barely visible. She smiled as I walked across the room and when I walking away from her, I smelt her odour rather warm and thick which I couldn't ignore, very heavenly it was. I walked back towards her and said.
Excuse me! I was wondering whose work is that? without even reading any information posted on a wall.

She walked towards me as her whole body became more visible and she started to explain. Not that I was fussed what the art was on about and what his/her video work was trying to say. I just peered at her dark brown eyes and her cotton like soft lips moving. I couldn't hear a word she was saying, I could just watch and watchhh.. The beautiful creature ahead of me.

I thought that was it, the woman I had been waiting for. I thought I would leave everyone and settle in New York with this woman, marry her and make a beautiful baby who would be as beautiful as Carey Mulligan and have a good New Yorkian accent to go with. We would have a house in Soho where I would paint and so would she and together we will be the artists of tomorrow.
Then, she stopped talking and started looking straight back at me.

Oh Oh thanks! and by the way what was your name? I said.

Andrea, she replied.

Oh Thanks dear, I chanted again and started walking, sipping the vodka mixed coke towards the upper floor of the gallery. By then I knew I was drunk. That floor was filled with Laurel Nakadate's work. I thoroughly looked each and every work of her and read all the statement she made. Her work was a bit of cliche but somehow I find them very beautiful, exactly that was the right word BEAUTIFUL though they were grime and explicit sometimes.

Documentation of her crying, singing, dancing, having invisible sex, role playing, seducing random truck drivers,sending her half naked pictures to strangers and researching their finger prints and more.. that's what her work was about.

Footage of Nakadate having an invisible sex

Gazing, her erotic video and letting the coke and vodka flow through my body. I walked away from that room before I got aroused to the nearest toilet and emptied my organic bladder/barrel filled with urine. I re-filled my bottle of coke with the remaining half a bottle of vodka making it more stronger.
Taking gulps of that heavenly poision I walked and walked, walked pass the doors, humans, stairs, windows, stars and moons to only reach the room where I could see the holy Andrea's presence.

This time I knew where I was but my body didn't. It was a room with the massive screens on the both side where some sort of video game was installed and us audience were suppose to go and play. I said,

Hey!!!! Here you are....!!

She didn't say anything but smiled like that poor cat who had lost her way home and you find her loitering infront of your house meowing, looking at you directly with her wet, shinny eyes winking and that's how cute she looked. Now as the vibrant colours from the screens were reflecting on her glowing body, I could she what she was wearing.

A red t-shirt, black tight jeans and black jacket with MOMA ( Museum of Modern Art) tag on her left arm.

I took my heart on my hand and walked towards the goddess, Hera of greek myth. Me being Zeus, I raised my head high.

She spoke,

Wanna, Try?

I took the controller off her soft hands. I tried playing the game and failed miserably. I turned towards her and said, I really am shit, Aren't I? dear!

She giggled a little and replied, No you can try again. Go for it. I denied and asked her to demonstrate instead.
She played it so neat, that I could do nothing but bow down for her performance. Getting down on a floor I started to witness the power of mighty Goddess. As she was playing, I came to think about the last words from Christy,

"Dean, I think you can get better girl than me. You deserve better. I am just being horrible to you"

For a second I thought she was correct then I thought. Those words were fucking lies that's what I knew, that was an excuse, an ignorance , selfish, naivity and innocence. Instead I enjoyed Andrea's twinkling eyes and her gentle movement of her fingers and her body in that shining room. In no time the show was finished, I stood up and gave a appaluse and said,
That was amazing dear.
She smiled and said, Oh no I have just played it many times, that's why it's easy for me.

With no bullshitting, I walked closed to her, invading her comfort zone and asked her Andrea/ Ondrea or whatever I was pronouncing with my broken british accent which she was giggling on about. I said,

Can I run away with you?

She was stunned! and laughed the loudest and said, You are mad!!! Are you Okay?

I walked backwards facing her and said.

Darling, You don't even know my name and you know it, I know it that we will never come accross each other ever. Therefore, Let's just remember this moment.

Dear, Strangers are supposed to be strange.

I walked away deminishing from her world as I could feel her warmth smell fading as my feet was lengthing away from her.

Then I woke up on a plane. I wrote a letter to my friend tom.

Dear friend,

Tom I am in Love, I think I have learnt to fall in love with every beautiful girl I come across again.

Your sincere
Dean

2011-02-28T14:19:00.006Z

Like this it started on the road, drunk, sex, adventure, affection, love, no love, lust, and like this it ended on the road.

Nomore phone calls or texts to wait for, nomore love to waste for, now the wheel has turned it's pace, the engine has roared beastly. I wonder how far this journey goes.

Now this is what I used a page marker as and since I finish reading the book, I might go eat Pizza and reminisce few of those beautiful moments I had while reading this book.

2011-02-25T10:47:00.002Z

Where were you when I was burned and broken
While the days slipped by from my window watching
Where were you when I was hurt and helpless
Because the things you say and the things you do surround me
While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun

new space, new start.

2011-02-18T16:43:00.007Z

2011-02-13T10:27:00.011Z

Then I realised how much she has changed.

As she vaguely hugs me and starts to run towards the awaiting Van with her friends and the man who she barely even know and he surely does have taken my place...

I wasn't bothered that he was going with her, the thing that hit me most was how insignificant I looked when she seemed heavenly happy being around him and so depressed with me.

It wasn't jealousy, It was disappointment.

Stunned I ran up to the moving vehicle,
Wait, Wait, I said

The Indian driver looked at me and said

NO NO!

that meant no seat for me. I knocked on the window as it scrolled down, Zoe looked at me and said so WHAT!?

I said,

Can I come with you?

Fuck sake!! why do you want to go with us now? She responded.

I didn't say a word then, I knew my place. I could not see myself on her serious face and she really didn't wanted to be anywhere near my shadow. she really has changed I thought. She really has..
The van left like the breeze of arctic, cold and very frosty. It hit me like a dagger on my heart. I stood there and just let the van pass.

I closed my eyes beating my right leg to the earth. I smelt her body smell thinning out in the air. I remembered the days she used to cuddle me and take in very deep breathe on my chest to store my presence, gentle kiss on my neck before she kissed my lips before every goodbyes.

But that was just an imagination.

Nobody cared. Not the rain drops and definitely not the star less dark sky.
I slowly walked off,

I didn't blame the wind for blowing my caressed rose petals nor I blamed the sky for setting sun.

It was just the time.

I said myself, asked myself again and again,

BUT WHY? why can't she think a bit more about me and what she means to me? Why can't she see what I have done for her and what I am willing to.

I asked all these questions for the thousand and fifty three times or more and yes the answer was still the same.

She really doesn't understand and don't really want to. In fact she doesn't care no more.
She doesn't want your moaning suggestions, neither she likes you bragging about the same thing again and again.

She is a free bird and doesn't want to be caged.

Your plea and your moan is just an irritating itch on her falcon's like beautiful wings.

yes, I said
Yes, Max!

It's about a time, time your realise and say enough is enough and let the wind pass.
I didn't cry
I didn't moan
I just left the cold ice floor giving me a needle pin like shock as I made my every moves towards my room.

By the time I got back to my flat I was drenched by the sorrowful rain and messed by the cruel wind. I got inside my bed and peered towards the yellow curtain lieing ahead of me till it was penetrated by the first ray of light....

2011-02-08T10:06:00.002Z