Delusional Diaries: Zero Zero One

One of these days Martin Scorsese will be sworn as the President. But, until that happens, I'll have to contain my feelings. Probably riding a unicorn in cowboy attire, the way I do, will help display my emotions. Joyous emotions. And of course, to know that Scarlett Johansson has finally accepted my dinner proposal, will give me two things to look forward to now.  

One plus one reasons for celebration, that is. Two toasts. Martin and Scarlett Johansson. One for Prez and the other for dinner. I mean to have dinner with. That was honestly by mistake. Not a dig at the gourmet cannibal community. Who, in their right mind, would want to offend the cannibals?

Whatever Makes You Happy

No, this post is not about the book with which it shares its title. Yes, that is a great book though, and totally recommended. No, I won't let you borrow it. Yes, you might find it on Amazon. Might. That's the word. Anyway.

There are blunderous combinations of flesh and blood. And then, there are people. Real people. Flesh and blood alright, but immensely real. Now, why I love this real lot is because they are always on their personal pursuits of happiness. Isn't that what life is all about? Wasn't that the lesson our wisemen and women from history trying to shove into our heads?

Being happy is not rocket science. Moreover, our quest for it need not be long-term. Instant, impulsive and unplanned happiness is always good news. Yeah, that's my big haul from two-oh-one-three! Do what makes you feel good in the moment. It is worth defying logic and rationale. It is the right thing to do. And it has to be done. More often. Squeezed. Until it ceases to make you happy. No second thoughts. 

One of the most cheerful words that you will ever come across. Happy. Dream is more cheerful but then aren't they both same in essence!

Whatever makes you happy needs to be done right now. Unless of course, if you are Al Qaeda. Then that would suck. Totally!

Un-Indian Shenanigan

So, in all my headphoned glory, I was on a routinely evening run in the park, when this wild black cat suddenly crosses my path. 

Actually, it was brown! Or grey. Some shade of orange, I think! Damn you colour-blindness!

Excreta For Breakfast

Exams are on, and inspiration's being a bitch (and I want to write a blog. Hah!). This one's related (kind of) to the last post. It is not that bad. Seriously.

The reason they say that wisdom comes with age is absurd! The people who had jumped (yes jumped!) to this conclusion (i.e. wisdom and age being directly proportional) must have been in the company of folks who were not-so-wise-when-young. But, brimming with philosophy a là Socrates, wisdom, worldly advice, anecdotes and funny sense-of-humour in their fragile years. Hence the proverb! 

Since observation has been the tool here, it will be even fair to create proverbial wisdom based upon my personal cynical scrutiny of the world! For instance, all the wise dudes and dudettes I know, have this habit of using a lot of swear words, eating their pizza with a lot of seasonings, emptying their stomachs religiously early mornings and also, they speak a lot of sense when they are totally drunk! Thus, I can (confidently) conclude that wisdom comes from fouler words, spicier pizzas, clearer bowels and outright sloshed minds! Since science has no role in verification of epigrams, I stand unchallenged. 

Some of the ancient souls of the 21st century have pioneered to blindly spoonfeed us with things which have been used, re-used, clichèd and excreted by the pre-Facebook generations! Why should we make their wrongs ours too? Maybe, wisdom comes with age. Sometimes lunacy also. And blindness too. Joint-pain. Not to mention dementia. And amnesia. And ofcourse, Parkinson's.  But I see no proverbial commom-sense being sermonized on that. 

You have to be either bravely insane to embrace such nonsense or to be fed on poop to fall in such skewed line of thought.

All That Jazz

This is where I share my thoughts (confusion) on turning 20, and exhibit a lame type of excitement for (*drumroll* *more drumroll* *trumpets*) MY BIRTHDAY, next month (*and the crowd just went wild*)!

Okay. 20. Wow! Adios to the teens, and reception to a new number line. So far so good!

But then somebody forces the M-word and this messes things up. Maturity. Seriously?

The social circles I inhabit, represent a very typical chunk of my generation.

We cling to our gadgets like oxygen.

 We have fallen in love once atleast.

Always have places to go and people to do. 

Bunk classes. 

Never miss concerts.

Have our DSLRs all stacked up.

Voice our opinions. 

Retweet all those funny one-liners.

Cheer our soccer teams.

Hound Instagram with selfies.

Download TV shows( Breaking Bad, anyone?).

Chill at uber places.

Feed on junk crap.

Make. Music. Art. Love. 

You get the bottom line. All this is not going to change. It is here to stay for sometime atleast. This is the maturity and all that jazz we need right now. Essentially, coming-of-age is only a mental process and happens over a period of time. It is never complete and doesn't ever stop. Hence, vague words like maturity should not be thrown on numbers (especially 20)!

And now, as promised, for the lame part. I have been making these (cool) posters and sending them to all those I know. So that they don't forget my birthday. Not that they would if I didn't send them. 

This is not that lame, right? Okay, shut up, Shikhar.

 

Naked and Beyond

A few scientists have concluded that doing a naked sleepwalk ensures longevity. That said, efforts of a thousand years and brains go into the drain. Boom!

*in-your-face-medieval-scholars*

The answer was always there! Staring right at you! In all its bare glory!

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Hola non-existent and imaginary people( as of this moment of first post)!

It is 12:30 in the morning and I can't get any sleep. 

Exams are doing a slow hazy dance around my near future and my spirit of leisure is yet to be defeated. 

This blog had been long due since the Birth of Christ now! What better time than exams to finally come up with it! *slow-applause*

Yes, this blog is actually called The Naked Sleepwalk.

But why?

For reasons I myself don't know.

For reasons which defy the idea of rationale.

It is like it being the one. You don't give  explanations for choosing the one. We were meant to be. That should sum it up!

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So I have spilled the secret. Go try it out. Think of it as another adrenaline pumped adventure sport. Not that you can programme your senses to sleepwalk in your birthday-suit, but the subconscious mind is only a shadow of the active mind. Got my point? 

Never mind.

I wish all this were actually true. But, longevity or not, it will actually give you one hell of a story to tell!