This funk shun all?

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

My mother is shouting at me for some odd reason. I can focus on some words, "careless","car","driver" etc. Sibling is singing a classical hindi track. I think, it's something that she picked up from the classes she used to take ages ago. Father is engrossed in Rambo 3. Escapism, with dreams of all that power, I guess. The bastard (dog) is rubbing himself against the sofa. He is an attention seeker.

I'm shouting at mother,"You've ruined my day. Why are you perpetually pissed with me?". My sister shouts back at the bastard. Father is still watching Rambo, "Oh, fuck, look at that bullet." Rash with a fucked up day. Today, has sucked beyond limits.


Woke up at 7, missed the alarm, the usual. Was ready by 8:3o (and for once, driver was there) and I don't know why, I chose to sit at home and have breakfast. I didn't have time for cereal but I guess I didn't want to eat in the car. Moving scenery with conking cars isn't the best sight to have the first meal of the day. That took about 1o minutes. Proceeding from there, reached the class 1o minutes late only to find out that the lecturer had locked us outside. All this, after two years of her teaching us, today had to be the day when she did this. Oh, and the topic she did today was Sartre.

Fuck my life-1.

Moving from there, I slept off during religion. Only to be woken up by people shouting like they're in a flea market (fish market- not. Sophisticated, my college). Turns out, half the class was caught cheating while writing an assignment (aka mug up the answer and puke it on paper- test). That meant cancellation of the same. Commotion was caused by this person who wasn't cheating but putting her phone on silent in the middle of the test. Yeah, whatever that was. I got a compliment (?), "Your face looks like you've just had etc". Never knew, sleeping in religion could make one so beddable. (I'd given the assignment the day before, on the scheduled date).

Fuck my life- 2


The bell rang. Even before we could say," WTF", the Ethics lecturer landed up in class, shut the door and decided to take attendance. I'd say in less than 1 minute after the bell rang. The only hitch was that the people who were caught cheating/annoyed/sick/more than half the class was out to meet the Religion lecturer. Since the class was in same room, Ethics Lecturer (ET), assumed that most of us would be there. So, those who weren't in class missed on their attendance. Thankfully, for once, I was there.

Fuck our life- 3

The last lecture of the day- Indian Philosophy. A class I can sum up in one line,

"This is Ve-dan-tah".

Our lecturer caught some proxy for one of the classmates that was put day before. Can you imagine the luck? Day before? Yeah, well. You got to believe, something's wrong with today otherwise so many things can't fuck up together in college. Cowness. Quoting the lecturer.

Fuck our life-4

If classes weren't enough, my rash was back in full swing (puns intended) to fuck happiness out of life and I was annoyed beyond wits to see my palm and fingers swollen double the size. Call it bass abuse and the menace of hives. Either ways, the rehersal was going okay. Not bad, we had finished recording a part of our fusion instrumental piece that we are to play for ID. I had to rush for class and I unplugged my bass out of amp and just when I unplugged the cable from bass, the bloody thing broke in to two pieces. Half of the jack was stuck inside the bass cable cavity and rest half was in my hand. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Panic attack. Rash attack. Head burst up in 35325 pieces. Staff advisors were to see our performance in an hour and my bass cable broke down in such a dramatic way. Tried to remove it for the longest time, futile.

Ended up rushing to this music store, where the assistant promptly opened my bass (noo) and removed the "little culprit". That, and rs 6oo lighter I ended up going back to college with a shiny, new blue cable. By then, rash had fucked my arm beyond recognition. Head was still bursting with fear and my anxiety level had gone up. Thankfully, the staff advisors liked our piece. Except, I couldn't hear myself was playing. My takes were lousy and today, my sounds was totally fucked up. I don't know if it's me or what but almost all other instrumentalist complained of the same thing. I doubt, if anyone knows how bass sounds, only to claim that they could hear it, when I couldn't hear a note of what I was playing. Anyhow, fuckall day.

Then, the usual. Mother shouting at me to get home by an auto or wait till 6 for driver to come. My family belives I'm jobless.

You know the rest.

I think it's time to crash. Can't afford to miss last Sartre class. Just seems like we're not meant to be together- Me and J.P. Sartre.

You Might Also Like


Hos in Different Area Codes


Stalker Count