travelin jim

wheels, crank shafts, nitro. ah, the stuff of life. means to an end that never comes. you get on and you don't get off. but what for? coz your papa was a rollin stone? coz your brudda was a turtle egg smuggler? coz your uncle transported minors across state lines? or is there more to that bug up your ass? why do you wanna see the last of mohicans? or did you miss him? I did. what about you? did you stuff that saddle bag and giddyup at all? yeah? good on you mate. i need to buy my outfit. six horses (can't ride them too hard you know. gotta worry about the terrain and shit) oughta do the trick. and then where do i go? to the next county? drink with the rowdy cousins at the saloon, pick up the local floozie and then canter back home feeling all good and sprightly? no? that's not what its about? gotta sow your oats a little father away? get away from daddy's shadow? not a bad idea, but how far away is far enough? is that far enough away? so then what is it? just get on and go. go for the sake of moving. maybe not even that. go for the sake of being in motion. now we're getting somewhere. and that my friend is why travelin jim is a travelin jack.

blast from the past

deja vu. i guess that's all i have to say about the blasts that shook the very foundations of Bangalore's mediocrity today. they're all the same when your ass isn't on the line i guess. if you've seen one, you've seen them all. they're preceded by a bunch of signals dudes catching a conversation in mid air about lighting one up in a busy street and then wanking off on it. then comes the exciting part, the closest thing to hollywood that real life can offer. There's smoke and bangs, yeah? and then there's another bunch of guys that walk through the rubble with dogs that probably fight the urge to whiz on every broken block of cement in sight. and then comes the politician and the sympathetic to victims/tough on terrorists speech which I think is a pre-requisite to get a vote-everyone's got the standard issue. what follows is a lot of tapped phone lines and some wishful thinking about a crackdown on another sleeper cell. Well, there might be a fake arrest or two, but wtf, that's like page six news. soon people forget about it. the cops give up. the bad guys move on, get fat, get rich and get dead. well, some of them talk too much in bars and get nailed but that's to be expected. There's no discipline in terrorism these days.

like i said, same ol same ol. but not quite. not this time. none dead yet. which is saying something. So what's the point? What are they trying to say? Maybe its time to listen. this time.