slothification

a few new commandments

2008-07-18T02:00:00.005+05:30

Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip

I don't know how popular this is at the moment but I just heard it and it's as Bubbles from TPB would say - deecent.

the refuse blues

2008-06-11T19:24:00.003+05:30

Snail mail’s usually uninteresting with the standard morbid bank statements or overdraft penalties fuckin’ me over, which results in me refusing to pay four times the direct debit, and they eventually getting me with the small print.

So it was a tad unexpected to open an envelope and pull out a photo of a black garbage bag, followed by another photo of an Amazon package with my name on it. Apparently I had placed my garbage outside on the wrong collection day and thus branded an untidy man. There was also a form asking me to confess with my reasonings, etc.

I didn’t do this of course. I’m too lazy to throw out the trash so we blame Panif. The proceedings of an emergency house meeting:

Zlot: I’m fucked
Panif: relax, no one knows you live here. You aren’t supposed to be here
Zlot: so what’s the plan?
Panif: you were visiting, ordered from Amazon and left
Zlot: who littered then?
Panif: I’ve done law, so I call the council up, see what they say and play it by ear
Zlot: I’m going to court aren’t I? Man that refuse was personal. There was shit in there I’d like to have kept private. I feel so exposed.
Panif: I’m paranoid and rip my letters
Zlot: I need to be more paranoid
Tonz: right. I knew hoarding all my trash in the closet’s gonna payoff one day
Zlot: he’s got a point there

So I picked up the guitar and attempted to play some blues but I can’t play blues, which is sad. Lately though, Tonz has been having this trenchant ambition of fronting a rock band. With the students' Open Mic Night scheduled for the last Thursday of the month, Tonz wanted me to strum Polly with the bass and him on vocals. I doubt I could even play Polly to an audience but after much deliberation we decided to redeem slip-ups with shit like “Cobain used piano wire on his guitar hence why this might have sucked”. But then I remember I’m off for the Radiohead gig on that day so yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

Instead, I’ve resurrected my guitar prowess or lack of; incessantly plucking the Pork and Bean s catchy bass-line and vitiating Okkervil.

the domesticated sloth

2008-06-03T03:18:00.004+05:30

Since I’ve not been doing much lately, I decided to expand my culinary repertoire to which no one in the house has yet agreed on as to whether is a good or bad thing. Cooking with unhindered creativity is awesome. Cooking with your mom or people who know how to cook is not. This is what I realized. Panif (housemate) and I cook, and Tonz (the other one) is our understudy. Poor guy.

We reckon that cooking is a stress reliever, not for the stomach as has been proved a few times, but the mind and other parts of the body. You get to use a different part of your brain.

Panif likes to eat healthy whereas Tonz prefers to fry burgers, cheese, curry from a can and the occasional doner kebab. Panif’s pretty slim for a 40-something dude, so I decided I too could do without too much of a pot.

I should write a book about all my recipes and research since this will infinitely benefit chumps who don’t know where to start. So this is it.

Tuna and baked beans curry.

Boil strands of wholemeal pasta in a pan. I used to break them in half before Panif told me not to. You just wait till they soften.

Chop half an onion and throw it into a pan covered with a layer of heated olive oil.
Throw in a can of chopped tomatoes.
Throw in a can of baked beans.
Throw in some mushrooms.
Throw in some herbs, chili powder from sl. Garlic powder, ginger powder, salt pinch, and soy sauce. – These are all the ingredients I have and it works.
Throw in a can of tuna and stir for 5 minutes.

Now wasn’t that easy?

Salmon steak and potatoes and veggies.

Veggies are a hassle so I get the frozen mixed bag.

Throw in the same ingredients I threw in before into a mixing bowl.
Add two (so you can keep one for the next day) salmon steaks into the bowl and mix being careful not to break them.
Place them on a foil and shove them into the oven for 45 minutes.

In the meantime, boil some small potatoes with their skins on (since this is nutritious and peeling sucks, but buy some quality shit). Oh, cut up the potatoes in half to make it quicker and smarter.
Cut up an onion in a manner that forms rings. Like onion rings without the crust.
Throw the onions into the heated olive oil in a pan and stir until they turn golden brown.

Boil some frozen veggies in a pan for around 3 minutes so as not to kill the nutrition.

After everything is done, top the potatoes with the onions. Add the salmon to the plate. Grab some bread.

There’s so much more to go and so little time. Until next time, don’t eat your heart out.

but can you fake it, for just one more show?

2008-02-06T20:44:00.000+05:30

So the Pumpkins released Zeitgeist. At least Corgan and Chamberlin did; I can’t keep up with the band’s issues. It bombed due to too much guitar overdubbing, which 'twas to be expected if they continued in the vein of Machina. But this meant they’d tour places. Not ‘diff, but London (O2 Arena) and Tony (the housemate) was up for it, which meant I really had no excuse. A good thing of course.

Hopefully they’d play a lotta shiz from Gish, Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie and maybe Pisces, but I doubt Pisces and [hopefully] the sentimentality won’t kill me.

pole-vaulting

2008-02-01T19:20:00.000+05:30

My not-so-short stint at the hopole will be ending this month. Most likely. Things pretty much started going downhill when on new year’s eve, Ganja (moniker for weed-smoking pole), threw up, splashing puke in, on and around the commode on the second floor (my floor). He didn’t bother with the hassle of cleaning it up but merely shifted loos to the loo downstairs. Everyone did the same since the consensual agreement was that Ganja had to clean it up. But I couldn't handle going downstairs so I cleaned it somehow.

Just before I flew to Glasgow for Hogmanay with Darwin, an African-American moved in to the third floor. Ganja refers to him as Blackman, which once was overheard by Lye (his name) who then threatened to shove a knife up Ganja’s butt. Thus, Ganja attempted to form an alliance with Stefano and me implicating Blackman for stealing his Ketchup, using too much bandwidth (although Blackman didn’t have a computer) and drinking his Stella cans. I noticed some Virgin Olive oil and onions missing. But these were always being pilfered before Blackman moved in so I figured it to be the Ganja for he is unstable.

We occasionally have spats about who should replace the washing up liquid, which Ganja never did so we hid ours. So he resorted to using shower gel to wash dishes. Also in the post one day was an arrest warrant for a pole and Ganja keeps thinking my name is The Occupier. All these occurrings and Arnia leaving, were slowly filing into me, like a file on a short finger nail not stopping when it reaches the flesh; so I was relieved when a friend called me up and said there’s a room at his place with no poles in sight, except for his, at the wild parties he hosts. Gah. Nah, I’m playing.

I haven’t managed to find work of any kind. Even the retail stores refuse to take me, which I put down to underground racism. Stefano and I intend on proving this by switching names on our resumes (to Brit-sounding ones) and deleting qualifications. I should probably take Rob’s advice on career planning:

a) Split up with girl friend
b) Junk college
c) Go to work in record shop
d) Stay in record shops for the rest of life

Ahhh by far. The greatest job in the world. Ooh, I hear Stefano hollering. It’s packing time.

hopoleconomics

2007-11-24T00:24:00.000+05:30

You know that cooking in the hopole is gonna be different, bad different, when the gas grill is bracketed a little above the stove, inverted. The oven’s gas; so’s the stove and the dials don’t work too well. Needless to say, the kitchen is a fire hazard.

The dials are winding me up, heh – inadvertent pun. There’s a precise level of turn that I have begun to master, analogous to the clutch in a stick car. If I turn it up too much, the pan handle is quickly smothered in flames and if I turn it down too low, the flame entirely disappears with a *poof* sound. There was once one of those electric guns, which was found violated by a pole, and rendered useless. Without the gun, we had to settle for matchsticks. I like matches. When struck, the nascent scent of sulfur dioxide neutralizes the onion odour, which might be just me though.

So I decided to heat/bake a frozen pizza, which was mind-numbingly simple at the former student residence – a normal electric oven. Now, the temperature (200, 250, or 300 degrees) mentioned at the back of the product box, doesn’t matter anymore since this primeval oven’s got numbers ranging from 1 through till 9. It’s like I’ve gone back in time. So I place the pizza on a piece of baking paper for not want of any of the grease dripping from the oven trays, turn the dial to 9, strike the match and stick my hand inside down towards the notched area and *poof*. This poof although similar sounding is utterly different from the previous poof, which was onomatopoeic for a flame going out. This flame almost blew my hair off but actually began consuming the entire baking paper instead.

Suddenly a pole appeared. Being the helpful bastid that he is, he screamed “fire fire!”. I thought about dousing the flames with water but before I could react, the paper had burnt around the pizza leaving a thin-blackened-circumferential-crust stroke. The pole seemed a tad disappointed, shrugged, then left. Subsequent to this harrowing experience, I decided to try again. This time turning the dial to 2, taking it 45 minutes to bake. Sigh.

Hoping that the grill would be safer, I decided to grill some salmon some days after. The fire was towards the end so it kept burning the part of the fish closest to the flame. The flipping was becoming increasingly exasperating when I was suddenly struck by a bolt of oil onto the temple. A few swearing and head-holding minutes later, I tried to locate the source of the splattering oil and then it hit me. Again.

The fookin’ pole-vaulters had kept their greasy oil pans on top of the grill roof, which was now sweltering due to the grill flame. Could this be an elaborate maneuver to cook the slothster? I had a lot to ponder, but first, somehow get the pans off the grill roof without burning my head. I eked them out somehow. Then fished out the fish with a random rag since the poles don’t do oven mitts, forked a piece from the end, which was well done, then the centre, which was too rare. Gah.

you're not the one for me

2007-11-15T21:08:00.000+05:30

Life’s been on the slow lane ever since those frantic 1.5 weeks of dissertation chaos. Now, searching for employment in between the downings, music, movies and shows. Yup, now that I’ve moved from them draconic student residences, I have access to an ever-growing pool of suh-weet goodness. Such are the pros of living in a hopole. Entourage is excellent and Carnivale is freaky. Californication is awesome due to its X ratedness but quite meh as far as storylines go.

So just when I was about set to get into a rut, the mum pulls a blinder, for which I had to step outta my bubble to resolve. The brother covertly informs me of an undercover operation going down in sl orchestrated by the mum to arrange a marriage proposal for yours truly, slothy. Once I heard the news and went through the necessitated WTFs, I wanted to know why? Why I was not consulted. Well, I once okayed proposals for not want of any further discourse but not like this. Not like this.

Now this was crazy. Crazier that Jesus Camp, Darwin admitted. And that was pretty crazy. A newspaper advert in the personals section shamelessly plastering my awfully good looks and edification. Good thing the sl papers don’t do photos yet. The surreality didn’t stop there but continued onto random answerings to ads. Oh, the humanity! The morbidity was so overbearing, I was forced to question my very existence and the meaning of life; of which I wasn’t too concerned about finding an answer to just yet ‘cos me good old theTenant took-off on a small expedition to Nepal to do just that promising to fill me in on the essences of his probe.

I then threw a convulsive fit with little foaming during which I was succumbed into reminiscing a time when me and some poofters were having a go stereotyping the personals as - she is “fair”, “educated”, “rich” “tall”, “oh, the inanity of these women”. Did I feel remorse or regret? I still don’t. So I’ve never been in a relationship that the mum’s approved of and I’ve never really had any halfway decent long relationships and I don’t think I have the strength to forge a brand new tenuous relationship from scratch. So is the only option an arranged marriage? Propose to a friend, preferably female? Get someone to pose as my fake gf to buy time? Run off to the Himalayas? Or even something as far-fetched as waiting for my soul mate instead of settling?

Martin (English-speaking pole) offered me Polish Vodka shots as a token of appreciation for laying off Arnia. Like that’s gonna stop me! Ok, actually it did and it did help me float back to my bubble with nothing resolved really. Martin though doesn’t sound like he’s laid her yet due to his sporadic statements denouncing her intellectuality. The skinhead brother’s probably another obstacle.

I still need to get me one of them job things. Maybe the move to London in 08.

a mosey down memory lane

2007-10-24T21:40:00.000+05:30

The last post was strewn with a panic-strickened theme, which I now realize was indeed veritable panic but I just sat there and did nothing, similar to how sage described my panic attacks back in the day, at the pit.

Following my visit from Darwin’s domicile where RHCP was memorable and the Edinburgh festival was that and more - in short, it all happened so fast; too fast. I thought I had everything figured out with the dissertation and the moving on the coincidental date. Got a medical certificate claiming that too much typing makes me faint (not a total lie), which was good for a three week extension and Stefano and I through a debatable stroke of luck found this notice in the business school – “Ty Pont Haern (pr. Tee Pont Hurn) room available” with an implicit declaration of “sublease possible”.

Some background. Since we weren’t sure as to what we’d be doing or where we’d wanna stay the next year, we didn’t want a nine to twelve months contract. Houses and apartments also came with agency fees, deposits, bonds, etc. This offer was all free of that so we apportioned amounts with the chink owner to illegally sublease the room in the 21 storey apartment complex.

Things were pretty much quotidian for the first couple of days when we realized there were loo issues. The exhaust fan was bust and so was the door lock. We sneakily tried to get the maintenance guy to fix the shiz but he ratted on us to the management instead. So we were thrown out.

With no direction and no place to go, we fortunately (contentious) came across a dodgy joint opposite a graveyard where the landlord was down with paying monthly. The six bedroom house awfully reminisced a ‘70s horror movie house. Most of these rooms were occupied by Polish chaps. Also, due to the lack of proper suitcases, we carried many light belongings in typical black garbage bags.

On the day we moved in to the ho-pole (“ho” ‘cos it feels like a whorehouse and “pole” ‘cos of Polish):

In my room:

Stefano: Well, that’s the last of the shit
Me: ok, man this place stinks. I don’t know why we ever took this dump
Stefano: yeah, it is pretty scary with that skylight just above the bed’s headrest and all
Me: yup, good thing we didn’t take that room
Stefano: man this place does stink
Me: holy mother! This garbage bag contains actual freakin’ garbage…
Stefano: what the? From Ty Pont?
Me: no, seems different somehow. Must be the polish guys’…must have gotten mixed up when we unloaded the shiz from the cab onto the patio
Stefano: fuck!
Me: fuck!

Doors open and murmuring voices emanate from the room across. Two guys in briefs come out and just stand there.

Me: our housemates
Stefano: ffff
Me: hi, I’m zlot from Sri Lanka
Pole: Sri Lanka? Tsunami!
Me: er, yes we were largely affected by that
Pole: we are Polish from Poland
Me: right. Well, we just moved it. Nice to meet you
Pole: ganja? Sri Lanka…
Me: huh? Oh right. Yeah, I mean no. I don’t have any umm right now
Pole oh <disappointed>
Me: well, good night

The next morning I see this gorgeous chick descending the staircase.

Chick: <scared> hi
Me: <stunned> huhhh-i
Me: where you from?
Chick: I don’t…speak…much...English
Me: ah. Poland?
Chick: yes, Poland!

After a long struggle I discovered that she and the rest of the poles work at Memory Lane. They make Polish cakes. She even brought an English-to-Polish dictionary, which is when I got fairly excited at the prospect of being able to tutor her. This was dashed by another young Polish bastid who I hadn’t met until then. He spoke fairly good English, worked at an autistic school and made his intentions clear about hitting on the pole-chick – Arnia! Argh!

One of the poles has a rather cute accent. Especially, when he says "that's gooood". He is also stoned for most part of the day.

So I picked up the Tanglewood box guitar that a friend left in my possession many months ago on condition I carry it back to SL whenever. I started with Breakfast at Tiffany’s, which I could never get quite right and then onto the Nirvana tunes where the barre chord strumming came back fairly quickly. I then decided to try some Bishop Allen - the band that got me through my thesis.

And I’m off to find work.

honk, if you're lonely tonight

2007-08-03T07:49:00.000+05:30

So I haven’t blogged in a while cos I don’t seem to find the time in this sparse sheep town anymore probably due to the long days with the sun setting at roughly 9 pm and me thinking that it’s still afternoon-ish. There are so many things to start panicking about. Primarily, what I’m gonna do after September 14th –yup, the day my lease runs out. I need to find a place that offers a short term lease but there aren’t any around. Then there’s the dissertation to worry about, which coincidentally has to be submitted on the exact date that my lease runs out. I shall claim extenuating circumstances for this. Then there's me having no source of income.

Stefano is acting rather mercurial as of late but that is to be expected from someone dating the Kenyan chick. She’s a barrel of fun although my outings with her have been restricted since Stefano started dating her. We did once go out for bowling and The Simpsons movie. She insists that the Orange advert with Michael Madsen is not Reservoir Dogs related. I decided to get in on the act, and get some action with the Guyanese chick who lives upstairs. Although, this has not gone any further than movies on my bed. She never calls me to her place so she’s probably onto my plan.

Traveled rather non-extensively around Wales. Hit the Gower peninsula where the brackish beaches were freakin’ hard. What these chumps call a Welsh beach. Good picturesque view though. Also note that sheep run when you attempt to cuddle them with flailing arms.

Chicks here claim that I have an uncanny resemblance to Jeff Goldblum, so I suppose I should quickly leverage this superficial core competency to my advantage. Someone told me to try the infamous Jeff Goldblum Chaos Theory pickup line. I haven’t tried it yet.

Before I hit the streets, homeless, I will most likely be able to scope the Chili Peppers concert in Glasgow with Darwin unless the tickets, which were to be delivered by post are pilfered by someone whilst she’s away. This is something to look forward to amidst the looming gloom. Not the pilfering, but the show.

My handle has also slightly altered. I’m transitioning actually –slowly, since it was too deragatory, to zlot!

the sniper at the gates of heaven

2007-03-05T05:18:00.000+05:30

There’s this chick from Kenya and although, you may think “ah, black chick”, she’s brown and doesn’t look African. Habitually engaging in small-talk, she has the most bizarre quotes, facts and stories to recount. Oh, she’s Stefano’s classmate and almost always accompanies us to the cinema. She buys a monthly pass.

On the day we went to see “Déjà vu”:

Stafano introduces me as sloth -- not sloth but what they call me by.

Us: so what do you do in your free time?
She: a whole lotta things. You guys seem really lazy and do nothing I bet
Me: I joined the Krishna Consciousness Society
She: ahahaha why?
Me: oh I dunno. Relaxation, yoga, milking cows, etc.
She: that’s gay!
Me: hahahaha. It’s all right.
She: I do caving, rock climbing and horse riding
Us: what’s caving like?
She: well, we delve into these unexplored caves and it’s so dark and scary. We don’t know what’s in there. It’s really cold too so I might quit soon and join rifling.
She: gonna grab a Cornetto. I hate popcorn and crisps
...
She: I can probably take on a Cheetah
Us: what? How?
She: yeah, if you know how

The day we checked out “Babel”:

Stefano: You’ve met sloth
She: who’s this?
Stefano: oh ok, sloth
She: I’m really bad with names
Me: and faces

Us: so what’s your religion?
She: Ismaili
Us: err, what’s that? Anything to do with Islam?
She: no. I’m for women’s rights and against covering my head
Us: oh, so do you eat pork?
She: Well, yeah, I mean if there’s nothing else to eat what else can I do? I can’t starve to death! I feel kinda pukish after eating it though.
Us: don’t you have dogs too?
She: yeah seven dogs back in Kenya
Us: ah
She: gonna grab a Cornetto. I hate popcorn and crisps

….some random shiz and we ended up talking about Samoa.

She: it’s in Africa
Us: no, not Africa. The South Pacific…near New Zealand.
She: Africa!
She: oh, and also there’s an easy way to get to New Zealand from Africa.
Us: the shit?!
She: yeah, you guys know nothing

After Babel, we go home and do a Wiki on Ismaili.

On the day we checked out “Hot Fuzz” (not a hairy porn movie):

Stefano: you know sloth
She: yeah, I’m not good with names though
Me: she’s getting better

Us: so Ismaili…hasn’t it got an Indian descent, particularly stemming from the Bohra community?
She: no!
Us: oh!
She: the only Indians I know are my former neighbours and my best friend who I met here
Us: we read it on wiki
She: see that’s rubbish. Go to the official site you bunch of morons
She: we’ve got some Caucasian descent
Us: okay then
She: gonna grab a Cornetto. I hate popcorn and crisps

After the movie:

She: British humour sucks
Me: well, it was entertaining and quirky
She: good thing my pass was free

Us: how’s the job search going?
She: I’ve gotten rejected from every single one simply since I’m Kenyan
Us: that’s a shame

She: lemme tell you a story about an exam I was about to write
Us: all righty
She: when the invigilator handed me the paper, he whispered “your grandma just died”
Us: Jebus!
She: yeah, that damn fool. He could have waited until I bloody finished the exam, couldn’t he?
Us: one thoughtless bastard

Well, that’s all I can recollect. I’ve probably just mentioned half of the shiz she’s said. Oh, the humanity. The hilarity. She’s awesome! And increasingly turning out to be better than the movie.

of snowballs and men

2007-02-18T02:08:00.000+05:30

Not the Simpsons’ ex-cat or the quirky fellatio act but a ball made of flakes of snow. That’s beautiful, man, said William “snowball” Black in Clerks. It snowed in ‘diff last week, which is supposed to be unusual due to 'diff's coastalness but not too uncommon since it has been known to snow for a day or two in Feb. ‘Tho this time it was heavy. The heaviest snowfall in fifty years. I love these stats.

I awoke in the early afternoon, drew the blinds, and saw white. Senghennydd was covered with snow that was melting since I was late. I grabbed the camera and took some snapshots. It was wild. I had slept through the snowing, and I did ‘cos I didn’t feel the climate change. It wasn’t too cold; not below zero since the Canadian mentioned it wasn’t but had all the right ingredients for snow.

Checked out the snowman made by the undergrads, who looked bleak in the wasteland. I felt like I missed out on the snow flakings but snow was predicted the next day and snow, it did.

I had school the next day so I waded through the snow with an umbrella. Met the chaps and was attacked by the snowball-throwing undergrads. There were some vain attempts to make some balls but it was too cold plus I was lazy. I hid in the trenches. It didn’t snow the day after or until today; plucking away any hopes of a snow day and hibernation.

is this the blues i'm singing?

2007-01-20T06:20:00.000+05:30

So this suburban audiophilic dude has designed and loaded a room with state-of-the-art audio equipment that’s something else. It’s the shit. I don’t know what most of it does but I know I want it; and wanna get it. …Eventually.

I guess posterity demands it; me being the spawn of a generation of semi-audiophiles. I never really understood my dad’s Nakamichi cassette deck, JBL speakers and Carver amp. They’re still around. I think Nakamichi’s dead now but they once ruled. And the uncle with the soundproof home theatre room that I once watched Indiana Jones in. Then there was the awesome Denon paraphernalia, almost sold by the owner for coke. But he’s in rehab now and hopefully recovering.

I remember a turntable and an eight track player lying around the storage area. Both discarded since I figured then tapes were the in-thing. Dad never got into CDs; nor does he bother with 45s. He’s just stagnating on tapes.

So what do I need? Bang & Olufsen, Marantz? Something from here? I need to get a room. I really haven’t kept up. I feel like switching to vinyl for awhile since digital music seems to be stripping the essence off of the LPs. I need money. At least I’m motivated now.

now here's your future

2007-01-05T22:26:00.000+05:30

HNY. Let’s hope that this year will be better than the last. Although this phrase signifies a negative connotation to it, perhaps accentuated by Long December, there’s none implied.

Spent the eve’s transition to the new on the streets of ‘diff. ‘Diff was barren apart from the locals. The wasted locals and hobos. In an attempt to locate some fireworks after dinner, our first new year’s greeting was showered upon us by a ‘differ. A ‘differ who appeared to be micturating or urinating turned towards us and hollered a “happy new year lads”. Due to the gale force winds, we felt some spray. But we promptly put it down to the drizzle and in retrospect to the hail that followed soon after.

The Christmas holidays were spent with Z and Stefano. Z stopped over for a vacation and that wasn’t too bad. There were some strange occurrings. But all in all it was decent. Christmas in ‘diff sucked in the general worldview, unless you prefer desolate streets and decorations to the “Christmas spirit”. I was indifferent.

At city hall there was a temporary winter wonderland set up, which sorta blew. There was a skating rink, which looked like hell frozen over and a giant wheel. Also, a horsey-go-round. The highlight of the day was me switching the camera to fireworks mode and capturing the giant wheel in motion [see above].

i'm it

2006-12-21T07:33:00.000+05:30

This was Rastiadu's evil act of retribution for tagging her previously. Making me do work when I just got my hols and have nothing better to do.

1. CD or vinyl- CDs ‘cos I haven’t got a record player. But I’ve always wanted to get one and play some 45s. But then again, there are the Super Audio CDs.

2. An album you’ve been meaning to listen to- Stranger than Fiction by the Rock Bottom Remainders. Comprises Stephen King, Dave Barry and other writers. "Your band's not too bad. It's not too good either. Don't let it get any better, otherwise you'll just be another lousy band." – Bruce Springsteen on RBR.

3. Grammys – they sometimes make a move on me.

4. Your favourite album is - Tough question. Nevermind.

5. Invite 10 Music people for dinner. Who will it be? - Brian Wilson, Stephen Malkmus, Paul McCartney, Billy Corgan, Jack Black, Frank Black, Michael Stipe, Marilyn Manson, Regina Spektor and Maynard.

6. Appropriate punishment for those who play Celine Dion’s "My heart will go on" while pretending that it’s still 1998 - Grope them.

7. Choose your favourite instrument and its best player from your point of view. - err Page on guitar or Corgan on vocals?

8. The one piece of music that can move you to tears- The Beach Boys’ Sloop John B.

9. You are an executive at a major label and have the power to green light one album a year. What would you do? - Pick up my box guitar and play the intro to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. There’ll also be Grohl on drums, D’arcy on bass, Mike McCready on lead and Elton John on piano. Well no. I’m just kidding around. I’d probably green light an album from SL. How patriotic am I? I remember the Fallen and Ezra having a good track or two.

I shall now delegate the doing of this silly tag quiz to Darwin and Spectral.

nothing says i love you like a mixtape

2006-12-10T04:34:00.000+05:30

Being in ‘diff for almost three months now. I’ve begun to notice things. The first thing I've noticed was the sounds. They sounded different to SL.

After some preliminary findings, I stopped searching. Good music is popular here. It’s cattywampus! What was obscure shite in SL is common knowledge here. I blame the sheep.

Like this article, in one of the ‘diff student mags by Barry Cadshaw. It epitomizes what I’m talking about. Under the title “Undersexed in the City”, I typed it out just for you to help you along with your Christmas gift ideas and love-life acquisition. And I’m a sloth.

It started with a mix…The most era-defining method of seduction unravelled under mountains of discs and vinyl.

From greasy truckers cruising Interstate 5 to Journey and REO Speedwagon, through to pigtailed little bitches compiling their favourite Robbie and Razorlight, the cultural and symbolic act of home-taping is an integral part of the life cycle, whatever EMI and Lars Ulrich might tell you.

For hopeless romantics, it’s also the late 20th century equivalent of the Valentine's card or the garland of flowers. In 2006, a top-rating mixtape is how deals are sealed, how loves are won and lost, and quite possibly the key defining strategy of romancing for the underqualified.

It got me thinking, is this a game anyone can play? Is it just for the Myspace generation, or can people who don’t give two honking hoots who Stephen Malkmus is, still package their personality into 90 minutes of music. Of course you can.

Firstly: mixtape or mix cd? This is simple. A mixtape is for trying to woo somebody special, where the significance of the gift should outweigh what it actually is. It’s like a bunch of flowers. A cd is similar, but one that you secretly want them to listen to and go “wow, Iron Maiden b-sides!” as well. This is more of a functional gift, like saucy lingerie or Hugo Boss. Once your format is decided, the basic rules of mixtape etiquette have to be employed: no more than one song by each artist, don’t have too many cover versions, don’t lie to yourself and put on things that you don’t like, but you think they will. If you’re going to do that, you might as well write preliminary divorce papers into the sleeve notes.

Time is important. You’ve only got 90 minutes tops to sell your heart to them. Don’t put Mogwai Fear Satan by Mogwai on there like I did; if they don’t dig it that’s a sixth of the time wasted. You fool. Also, if you have too many long songs, then their attention is guaranteed to drift from “wow, I want sex with the Joanna Newsom fan who made this”, to “I want to have sex with Toby Anstis off the telly.” Focus is important, it’s why you shouldn’t fill your mix with songs they already know, that they can hear on the radio, or at an ice rink. Don’t put the Killers on there, for God’s sake.

So you’ve got their attention, what next? You’ve got to put your soul into it. And what says “I want to marry you!” like a multitude of schmindie whingers singing ditties about crayons and shoelaces? Nothing! You need at least five of these. If you’re a boy, these songs must be sung by boys. Likewise girls. You want the recipient to subconsciously imagine that it’s you singing the song, even if it’s by someone as notably grotesque as Willy Nelson. Find songs that hint that there’s more between your surface, like My Chemical Romance or Joy Division, these suggest that you are in touch with Death himself, and therefore live life more productively. All bullshit, naturally. Likewise, if you’re going to put cover versions on there, firstly make sure they know the original song (“what’s “Wind beneath my wings again?”), and put them near the beginning, leaving you a home run of brand new sensitive shite for the kiss-off.

There are lots of don’ts. Don’t put anything “funny” on there. Romeo and Juliet did not become star-crossed lovers over how hee-larious “Fuck her gently” by Tenacious D is. Similarly, don’t put any songs with suggestive titles on there. I made this mistake with “The hard one” by The Beta Band. Don’t put songs by yourself on there. You can’t sing, and they don’t want to know that. Don’t put songs by your friend’s band on there, that’s like encouraging them to run off and shag your fitter, happier more productive friends. Oh yeah, and don’t even toy with the idea of having Radiohead on there. Are you completely stupid?

Risks are worth taking. Even if they don’t like King Wasp by Add N to (X) (perfectly understandable), at least years down the line you can go “I can’t believe I put this on your tape!”. Beware, you’ve got to get to that stage first, and it won’t happen if the whole mix is full of songs that sound like a beekeeper farting through a vocoder.

Most importantly, make it a GIFT. Make a beautiful cover out of glitter and National Geographic cutouts. Give it a suggestive title from one of the lyrics (e.g. “I want to fuck you like an animal”). It must be perfect, otherwise you might as well give them a turd in a box. Lastly, don’t put either Nick Drake or Jeff Buckley on there. Whilst these two deceased crooners are fairly amicable, looking at a TDK C90 to find them on there is comparable to opening a luxury-wrapped present on Christmas day only to find it’s a pair of socks. Not even ones that can play a decent tune.

you're it

2006-12-08T06:28:00.000+05:30

Since Darwin tagged me, I eventually got around to it.

1. Popcorn or Candy – popcorn but I prefer chips.

2. Name a movie you've been meaning to see forever – Nosferatu.

3. You are given the power to recall one Oscar: who loses theirs and to whom – 1996 – from The English Patient to Fargo. I was also tempted to take Titanic’s in 1997 but the others were all equally decent so decision was difficult.

4. Steal one costume from a movie for your wardrobe. Which will it be? – the dude’s clothes from the Big Lebowski.

5. Invite 5 movie people over for dinner, who are they? What would you feed them? – Juliette Lewis, Christian Bale, Jennifer Connelly, Tarantino, Steve Buscemi. Feed ‘em some pasta and meatballs.

6. Your favourite film franchise is: the New Jersey trilogy.

7. What is the appropriate punishment for people who answer cell phones in the movie theatre? Grope them.

8. Choose a female bodyguard – hmm Patricia Arquette.

9. What's the scariest thing you've ever seen in a movie? – umm perhaps a bunny scene in Donnie Darko.

10. Your favourite genre (excluding comedy and drama) – Buddy Flim.

11. You are given the power to greenlight movies at a major studio for one year. How do you wield this power? – Greenlight every movie; I’m too lazy to filter.

12. Bonnie or Clyde – Bonnie and Clyde.

I tag noodle and rastiadu.

turn on the overhead sprinklers

2006-11-13T07:56:00.000+05:30

When things seem to be going ok, there’s always something that breaks the monotony. I’m a big fan of the mundane and ordinary since what most people find exciting, I find tiring. In my university residence, an unexciting event occurs every so often at the worst possible times.

I’m afraid to sleep at night and terrified to shower. The fire alarm keeps us on the edge and window ledge.

At 5:30 am, the fire alarm goes off. I crawl to the mirror and start to comb hair. Then to the loo when I thought, wtfwjd? I gotta get out of this place. So I grab a covering and start down the stairs in my cute pj bottoms, which got laughed at.

A week later, the fire alarm goes off at 3:00 am. I curse and crawl to the mirror. Dress and head on out. Stefano is waiting for me. It’s interesting though; we see scores of people who we’ve seen around but never knew lived in our house. It’s almost like a social gathering where it isn’t necessary to smile and chat. But stare vacantly looking exasperated. Since this is what is usually done by me at social gatherings, it’s kinda cool. I decided to make some temporary friends during these ten to fifteen minute periods until some guy_in_uniform turns the alarm off. However, no one remembers fire_alarm_period friends, which is also a good thing.

We share fire alarm stories. A guy related a tale about how two girls slept in the nude in his former flat and ran out in a towel. Good times, he said.

At about 10:00 pm one day, Stefano and I were doing some cooking when I unintentionally held the pan’s rising steam under the alarm. It went off.

The thing is, I’m so used to the fire alarm now. And in hindsight, I guess it’s not such a bad thing. I suppose I could grab that rose wine, the next time.

uhhh, i'm going to have to go ahead and ask you to come in on sunday, too...

2006-10-20T06:13:00.000+05:30

So you know your dark/cult movies? I haven't yet figured 'em all.

Oh, and watch Office Space; 'cos your job sucks.

me with nothing to say, and you in your autumn sweater

2006-10-18T23:23:00.000+05:30

Here I am in Cardiff, which from now on will be referred to as ‘diff. The Welsh are unexpectedly very nice eye-candy. The chicks are hot – Catherine Zeta’s from here; and some guys are pretty good too – Christian Bale’s from here! So all that has kept me off sheep… for the moment.

I thought I could live off my crunchy nut cereal and the cardboard, but I couldn’t. So a visit from the bro and Darwin one weekend, led to cooking in the shared kitchen. Oh, yeah, my flat. And flat mates. <digress> there’s five of us. Opposite my room’s the Canadian who watches ski-porn. Yeah, I didn’t wanna know too. Adjacent to mine’s, the Italian chap who can’t really understand much of what I say and vice-versa. Then there’s the Nigerian who keeps wanting to orchestrate a flat party. And finally, the fitness freak Korean. They are all reasonably decent.

<un-digress>so yeah, the bro and Darwin cooked chicken – spicy chicken – with the chili I smuggled from sl but never knew how to put to good use. I also learned how to use the oven and hot plates.

Following their departure, I put my cooking skills to the test.
The dishes cooked so far (don’t try these at home or anywhere else):

*Chili beans and spaghetti – Add chili beans to boiled spaghetti
*Corn on the cob and garlic bread – Boil corn and place bread in oven
*Spaghetti and pasta sauce with frozen veggies – boil everything
*Melted pan handle – turned on the wrong hot plate by mistake and the handle was over that
*Sandwich – butter and jam
*A better sandwich – butter, jam and cheese
*Cold garlic bread – forgot to turn on the hidden oven switch sited secretly near the hot plates

That’s it. I’m still alive and my flat mates are proud of me. True, they keep offering me food and I keep accepting but I’m getting there. Damn that cardboard cafeteria.

The ‘differs have good taste when it comes to music and some sweet bands are set to make their presence felt near the ‘diff bay. Explicitly, tool and yo la tengo. Yeah, who the lucky bastard? No, not really. ‘Cos I don’t really know any chumps I can tag along with.

It’s getting colder. So maybe hibernation will reduce my need to cook. I can’t down any moosic so I don’t know how long I can make it; and make my current hoard last.

we wear our scarves just like a noose, but not 'cause we want eternal sleep

2006-09-12T16:02:00.000+05:30

The Stereophonics, Super Furry Animals, Young Marble Giants are all Cardiff-born bands, which is where I will hopefully end up in a little more than a week or Lost, which I’ve been OCD-ing with and why I’ve haven’t posted in a while; that and the whole preparation process. Also, it’s cold there. So there’s that elusive winter shopping spree I have to tend to.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, I’m gonna do a postgraduate degree in something at Cardiff University. Prifysgol Caerdydd, is Cardiff University in Welsh, and I’ve been warned that travelling is not gonna be easy with the weirdass Welsh pronunciation and even weirder-assed locale names. Although I’d be in the South, the coast, the beach - these beaches seem to me follow me around – I’ve been requested to visit Lalan and get some resident to pronounce the meandering moniker. Stay tuned for that.

We did some research on why Prince Charles is the Prince of Wales and I’m still not sure and I have overused the “I’m gonna have a whale of a time” line.

My last day at the farm is this Wednesday, and sl, this Sunday. I’m gonna miss some farmers and the coconuts, and the sl spices. Since I’m too lazy to cook, I’ve made reservations for the catered halls, where cardboard is supposed to taste better than the supper. Sometimes you eat the box, and sometimes the box eats you.

Wales is also known for its fulsome sheep. So perhapses if all else fails, I could always pimp sheep. Bath’s close by, so maybe Darwin can come visit bearing food since she’s the like the greatest cook ever. My bro, who is currently in the uk will be lugging a suitcase filled with his discarded refuse, which I shall inherit. W00t! Oh, and there’s good old Stefano, who will be coming with me to the same uni.

Next stop: Cardiff.
Da boch chi!

are you part of this kakistocracy?

2006-07-12T15:22:00.000+05:30

The world cup’s finally over. The result was satisfying; and I can rest easy now. Now that those long restless nights of deprived sleep are over with. The finale was entertaining.

We wanted to have a meet up and watch it on some giant screen with drinks and chicks -- the uninterested cup chicks brought by the cool soccer fans of course. But it didn’t materialise so we resorted to watching it on our smaller inch screens in the comfort of our own homes with a six pack.

Messages and calls were made at certain instances during the match.

After Zidane’s headbutt:

Dude_one: tough bugger. Did you see the way he went down? Zidane’s head is like a…ummm like a football!
Slothy: ok dude, what have you been smoking?
Dude_one: must have been a racial slur
Slothy: nah, it’s 'cos Materazzi was touching him…
Dude_one: hey yeah, that’s a good reason

When it was time for the penalty shoot-out:

Dude_two: Monkey boy or old bald bastard?
Slothy: old bald bastard. (since I prefer rooting for the guy who I hope won’t make it, so I’d be happy either way)
Dude_two: go monkey boy!
.
.
.
.
.
Dude_three: man, the guy who substituted for Zidane didn’t pull it off the same way Zidane did with his penalty
Slothy: yeah, what if it was tied after the five?
Dude_three: sudden death and then the goalies kick
Slothy: whoa! All the way from their goal?
Dude_three: don’t you know anything about soccer?
Slothy: no, I suddenly developed an interest in the game. Although I was always the defender in school; but I didn’t do what Cannavaro does.
Dude_three: uh huh

At the farm:

Cheapbastard! You’re short and bald so headbutt geekybastard. <pushes head down>. Down! The chest! More force. More head. Those were the typical phrases strewn around some parts of the farm after the finals.

Also, Materazzi denies knowing the meaning of the word "terrorist" and faces this.

This just in: game.

you can call me your clown, i'll bring you straight down

2006-06-26T12:01:00.000+05:30

Sloths, we are taking over.

hexakosioihexekontahexaphobic

2006-06-13T18:53:00.000+05:30

6/6/06 passed by a week ago. It was slightly eventful to say the least with bad 666 puns and uncanny incidents.

It was Tuesday morning. When I got to the farm, the power was out. Farmers were wandering about in the dark, outside their cubicles, not knowing how to cope with this freak occurrence. Some strained to read hardcopy material under a mobile phone torch. Others lit a cigarette in the dark. All this, until someone pulled the blinds up.

Slothy: dude, today being 666; the power going out. Coincidence?
Farmer_friend: you think there’s a connection between 666 and the current?
Slothy: yeah! AC/DC! <emulates air lead guitar move>
Farmer_friend: hyuk hyuk. I don’t get it.
Slothy: oh! Lemme try it on someone else then.
.
.
.
<walks around>
.
.
.
Slothy: dude, it’s 666 and the power’s out. 666 rocks!
Another_farmer_friend: yeah, heh, maybe 666 ain’t so bad after all.
Slothy: hold on! An idle mind…is a devil’s workshop! Whoa!
Another_farmer_friend: holy crap!

666 music:

“We aren't necessarily celebrating 6/6/06 but it seemed somehow wrong to let it pass without some kind of recognition. Face it, you don't have to be a Devil worshipper to admit that Satan certainly has some fine tunes.” – allmusic. The list is eclectic with Black Sabbath’s debut album placed at the top; and I possess it! I shall acquire the rest of the devil-themed albums slowly. Also, the deathclock will predict the day you will die.

The day after 666:

Was moseying along when suddenly I felt an imbalance. My left foot felt shorter than my right. I thought I was passing out; did a pirouett-ish swoon and caught a glimpse of my sole. That’s right – my left sole – had come loose hehind me. I went, bent, and picked it up. It was twangy!

Marduk: dude, wtf are you carrying?
Slothy: my sole.
Marduk: your soul?!?
Sloth: my sole.
Marduk: Your soul looks funny.
Sloth: It’s always been like this.
Marduk: Seems like a lot has been weighing on it.
Slothy: I’m gonna give it to the peon.
Marduk: Tell me he’s the devil.

And so it ends.

i see you take another drag, one more soul to raise your flag

2006-05-29T18:22:00.000+05:30

Although I thought that the adsl-acquisition would increase me blog posts, I was wrong. I just got busier. Over the years, I've been listing cult and indie movies and music, which I managed to nick whenever possible. But this list has grown considerably large and the recent unlimited access represented an all-in-one goodies store so to speak. I got keyed up.

I started off with a few David Lynch movies I wanted. Eraserhead, Lost Highway and Mulholland Dr., which was almost certainly a bad idea since after a Lynchian movie you need at least a week for get_your_senses_back recuperation. But I risked it; went ahead and downed Rabbits – a 9 episodic weirdass series, totalling 50 minutes about three rabbits (actors with rabbit costumes) going about their freaky daily routine silently except for a haunting laugh track.

The Singles flick is taking forever to down, which is probably not worth it 'cos the OST I presume might be its only redeeming feature.

Got Spun; which I almost got after watching the movie comprising maybe the most cuts in a movie ever. Fookin’ junkies. Also Repo Man, a very offbeat American ‘80s flick. Caligula and oh, Woodstock by Michael Wadleigh, which I quote from I dunno where “is the mother of all documentaries”.

Jim Jarmusch’s Stranger than Paradise makes good laid-back viewing and also makes me wanna get Dead Man, Down by Law, Night on Earth and Mystery Train.

Evaluated the new albums released by the veterans – Tool’s 10,000 days – they took close to 5+ years to come up with this and was it worth the wait? - Not that we were actually waiting but if we were; it is. RHCP’s Stadium Arcadium – the funk and Frusciante are back in this harrowing double-disc set; and PJ’s eponymous release – well, it’s a straightforward Pearl Jam unconfused_genre rocker, which I dunno whether is a good thing.

Then there were stuff I wanted off artists whose former or latter albums were very very kickass. Jeff Buckley’s Grace was this so I downed Sketches (for my sweetheart the drunk), which is pretty damn good for a sketchy effort since he drowned before the release wearing heavy boots in a Mississippi tributary - damn damn! I got a little broody there. He supposedly suffered from bi-polar disorder; yup, Kurt did too. Got the Sub Pop 200 compilation – some rare grunge tracks; although I can’t vouch for them being all grunge. The Deftones’ B-sides and Rarities ‘cos listening to Chino’s androgynous vocals and their unique instrumentation on covers such as The Smiths’ Please Please Plesase Let Me Get What I Want and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Simple Man makes an entertaining listen.

Then there were the music videos – QOTSA has got some crazyass vids – I am indelibly marked and regrettably by this one vid where a chinaman parades around nude exhibiting frequent lewd gesturing. Deftones, APC, Tool, RHCP, Radiohead – "Karma Police" and "Just" to be pedantic – makes you wanna just get out there and lie on a pavement; ooh yeah Pavement and a bunch of indie vids from this joint. The Velvet Underground (struggled-to-find), and Bowie - that creepy bastard.

Damn, I need a life but if this is what I would have to settle for, I could live with that.

what's my view?, well how am i supposed to know?

2006-04-25T18:59:00.000+05:30

What plans for the future?– I err. When are you getting married?- well, not. Do you have a girl friend?- I, no, not at the. Heard you are going for your postgraduate.- I’m in the process of. We should set you up.- huh, wha?-No, don’t.

"God made the world round so we would never be able to see too far down the road." ~ Isak Dinesen

"Anyone who isn't confused really doesn't understand the situation." ~ Edward R. Murrow

I'm confused.

and if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last

2006-04-12T18:32:00.000+06:00

Now there are even more reasons to go out and buy a PS2. For those of you who have no inner geetar talent like slothy who can just barely manage a song on just basic barred chords there’s this controller. The fretboard looks ghastly with those big baby buttons but it looks easier and there’s probably no tuning required; perfect for us Tonedeafs.

And then I discovered that sloths were once bigger lazy bastards. The bones were excavated on April 1 tho’.

i'm better off with you far away from me

2006-04-05T19:12:00.000+06:00

Taken using the dodgy-phone-cam.
And so it happened -- the worst disaster at the farm in recent times. Oh the woe! Oh the emo! The pain and the heartache, and the earache. The music is now discordant. My left earphone split.

As I was chilling to some The Zombies, a dude comes up beside me and starts to utter something incoherent. I watch his mouth mouthing some voiceless words when I notice a shift in his expression; he begins to take shape. So I yank my left earphone out and gawp at the jerk who slowly shifts his eyes to the left, and then notice my left hand moving involuntarily up to the remnant in my left ear.

The ear conductor-rim-thing had detached itself from the base with the air holes. If I had yanked any harder, the wiring would have been torn loose completely ending in near calamity. I meticulously plucked the remnant out and shoved the ear conductor-rim-thing in along with the wiring. It gradually popped back out and drooped like an erectile dysfunctioning penis. The dude had departed without even offering to lend a hand in my time of distress.

I then decided to test the partly disassembled earphone. Anxiously I slid the limp thing in, straightened and adjusted it, then pushed play. What I heard -- was music to my ears. I guess the inner-workings weren’t damaged after all. Although I do occasionally sense a fuzzy crackling lo-fi effect during playback on all tunes, which is probably a good thing.

colonized wrath -- their shining new path

2006-03-24T21:20:00.000+06:00

Whilst driving, TNL (radio) hinted at the possibility of a new type of automobile hitting the streets of Colombo in the not-so-distant future. The Micro (the first car to be modelled in SL) is a joke; it’s hideous.really, and ugly. This vehicle may boast of similar unaestheticness but will come customized with special features and the removal and modification of certain car-dogma.

The horn – will be unceasingly turned on.

There will be no flooring or light-stepping of the accelerator required; there will be no accelerator; just a switch - a TooFast state and a TooSlow state. No in-betweens.

Basic unused mechanisms such as signal lights will be done away with. They were deemed too old-fashioned and severely underused.

That’s all I recall, although I’d prefer it, if it also came with no flashy headlights. Those darn heads blind me like a bunny frozen in oncoming vehicle beamers. And every time I attempt a turn, some poofter keeps headlight-flippin’ or stressing a focused bright head-beam at me eyes. There’s an unspoken message in those illuminations but no fookin’ standards. Darn cocksmokers. We should all probably read this…albeit I was too lazy to.

and i was looking for a friend of mine, and i had no time to lose

2006-03-10T17:54:00.000+06:00

Besides having been an awesome orgasmic post-punk band, Joy Division was also coincidentally the Nazi name for concentration camp brothels during World War II. They dissolved to form New Order.

In other unrelated news, the times they are a-changin’. Also, we will eventually bring forward by half-an-hour our clocks. The reason being parents complaining of children travelling in the dark to school. So I told my pedo-bud about this. He’s a petterass. What’s a petterass? Shut the fuck up, donny.

pedo_boy: that’s good, we can now go to work half an hour late
slothy: huh? I don't think so
slothy: it's the same thing except there'll be more morning sun you bastard
pedo_boy: hmm. That’s no fun
slothy: yeap, it sucks
slothy: cos parents have complained that the kids go in the dark to school and pedos rape them. you are indirectly responsible for the change
slothy: you pedo bastard
pedo_boy: that’s not gonna deter me. I’ll get em' when they're coming home after tuition..
pedo_boy: since it gets darker earlier muahahaha
slothy: ooh shit
pedo_boy: they shall call me jack the pedo..
slothy: i shall stop you, evil doer - sloth the pedo slayer
pedo_boy: what you gonna do, hit me with your slow gun.
slothy: a slow and painful poke, when you're doing the kid
pedo_boy: that meddlesome sloth
pedo_boy: where have all the young girls gone lala
slothy: oh god no
pedo_boy: hey good joke in south park
pedo_boy: kyle (the Jew) is having a hard time concentrating in class..
slothy: uh-huh
pedo_boy: cartman says, we need to teach kyle to concentrate. Let’s send him to a concentration camp.
slothy: heh heh. another coincidence.

so we can do the twist, do the stroll

2006-03-08T19:50:00.000+06:00

A big bird dropped by my yard this morning. A stork-like duck fellow with a wrecked leg. Poor bastard. I was gonna patch the chap up when it hit me – possible bird flu bird; thanks to darwin’s theory. I started to panic.

So I left for work and left mum to deal with the yard-bird.

gringo spastic warbling can, for a fake chinese rubber band

2006-03-01T18:44:00.000+06:00

Got bored; but remembered uncyclopedia. Looked up a string of artists and bands and what followed was a whole lotta chuckling, chortling, and eventually - peeing. I then took the time to compile a list of pilfered uncyclo classics.

Led Zeppelin

Each member of Led Zeppelin suffered from a learning disorder, and no one had the heart to tell them that they had misspelled "lead."

Kurt Cobain

Also, he wrote the all-powerful song Smells Like Teen Spirit in the year 945 B.C., which was used to scare away wild pigs and robots. It has been played at every rock club in the world since 443AD.

I killed him…sorry.

Jim Morrison

Bill Gates stole the secret of what's behind those doors, ran to Steve Ballmer and they created Windows, so named to avoid plagiarism allegations. After the miserable ending to Gates's attempt (Windows operating system), Jim Morrison was so depressed that he upped his drug intake and staggered from one whisky bar to another, all the while vainly petitioning the Lord (Voldemort) with prayer.

Alice in Chains

Once seeing the Caterpillar in the movie, Layne and Jerry decided that it would be hilarious to do one of two things- A) wrap Alice in chains, or B) wrap Alice Cooper in said chains. They wound up eventually doing the latter, but this is how their name was developed.

Metallica

The White Album (Note: Jay-Z, with the help of Kanye West sued Metallica because they claimed it was "racist" to call Metallica's self-titled album the "Black" Album. Metallica was forced to change the title to the "White" album, and then Jay-Z stole the "Black" album name.)

Garbage Inc - (In this album they take revenge against talented artists by mocking them.)

Rage Against the Machine

These gangstas were livin' the life until one fateful day, a strange man with frosted tips and dressed in strange white people clothing came up to Zachs' guerillas and said that his gang, 'The Garden Of Sound' had just been massacred and he needed new militants. Brad, Tim, and Tom happily agreed for Zach's ways were getting a little too radical for them. This new terrorist group gave themselves the name Audioslave, for they always listened to the radio while smuggling slaves away from their masters.

Coldplay

If you have never heard coldplay before, just picture Travis in your head, but with a worse singer and guitarist. If you haven't heard of Travis, think of Radiohead, but happy, and without the decent basslines. If you haven't heard of Radiohead, get a life.

Radiohead

Radiohead - a cyborg war-machine from Neptune.

Soon, the morning bell rings, signalling the Karma Police to come out from their hiding place behind a fake plastic tree and stop Radiohead from climbing up the walls. They eventually defeat Radiohead by destroying its iron lung, causing a blow out and leaving Radiohead high and dry. Radiohead, ever the trickster, is able to escape the wolf at the door and escape to its home planet Telex. However, the two heroes then creep up behind Radiohead and pull it into a pulk revolving door, slowly crushing it. Radiohead's dying words are: "Bulletproof... I wish I was..."

The Smashing Pumpkins

The Smashing Pumpkins were founded in Chicago in 1988 by the brothers Fester and Gomez Addams. Fester was the lead singer; Fester and Gomez both played guitar, while their man Lurch was their first drummer. Although formally a member of the metal band Old Man's Child, Gomez describes the early Pumpkins sound as "really f-ing creepy."

R.E.M.

The band is fronted by a man who looks like both Moby and Billy Corgan named Michael Stipe. He got his start as a DJ on Radio Free Europe, but was fired for asking his producer, Kenneth, what the frequency of the station was. After returning to Rockville, even though his friends told him not to, he got very popular for writing poems about the rain in southern California. He later became the 8th ever train driver, and went by the name of Wendell Gee. However, since he claimed that he was unable to get there from here, he was fired.

now it's half past two, long gone the rendezvous

2006-02-24T10:30:00.000+06:00

Following my short stint in the modern desert – Dubai, I have returned to the tropics. As I’ve got nothing interesting to declare -- except "don't go to England" hehe heh -- since my comeback, I shall recapitulate the trip. Just a cross-section of it.

TV sorta sucked cos the satellite dish we use to pluck random vagrant frequencies with, somehow managed to get gridlocked in some French skies. You’d probably think that this was a good thing. French channels with French women and men; skimpily clad. But it gets old after a while. And the porn channels were scrambled, apart from the phone-sex channel. Although, I once caught an unscrambled “passion” channel at around four in the morning. But dozed off.

Thumbing my way through the one-thousand-and-ninety-nine channels proved harrowing – brought back memories of "mortal-kombat-thumb" or "tekken-thumb"— but paid off at the end when I flipped onto a French alternative/indie rock videos channel. Fook yeah! Pardon my French.

True, the lyrics were French but the instrumentation made up for that minor glitch and then there were the French rockers that sung English lyrics as well. Mano Negra’s Out of Time Man is a timeless classic – apt theme song for us. Moreover, they occasionally threw in some other ethnic videos for umm variety. And that’s when I fell in love with Nada Surf and KT Tunstall.

Consider part one, closed.

scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango?

2006-02-09T11:52:00.000+06:00

Queen's Café; and now I’ve been enlightened as to the significance of queen's in the title. If you haven’t already yet figured it out, I was hit-on by a not-so-straight-queen's dude.

The fateful evening, at the pool section with my friends (dudes):

Slothy: <pots a ball>
Unknown_voice: lovely!
Slothy: huh? Who said that?
Dudes: that dude with the skinny
Slothy: do we know him?
Dudes: nope. Think he’s hitting on you
Slothy: fuck me…
Dudes: well…if you’re lucky I guess
Slothy: fuck you

So I finally had to pot the black ball when dude_in_skinny walks over and I get all nervous. I miss a clear shot leaving an open field for the other couple. They do it with ease and look smugly at slothy. When suddenly --

Dude_in_skinny: aww so close
Slothy: err uh-huh

The dude_in_skinny then extends a hand to be shaken. I start to shake it when he unexpectedly pulls me closer and whispers “how are you?” in my ear. He probably meant to use the “How you doin’?” Joey-line but I dunno. Maybe he was nervy. I sputtered and uttered a “not too bad” and attempted to blow the joint in an unslothy hurry.

Dudes: if you’re done can we get going?
Slothy: let’s make a break for it!
Dudes: hand over your share of the money
Slothy: geez, can we settle this later, I might lose my err vir-
Dudes: ok, he’s trying to skimp on the payment
Dudes: vir-…? complete that phrase; this oughta be funny

<censored>

Well, that’s that. I’m done with Queen's. There are too many desperate males frequenting that joint. A couple walking up the stairs made a swift u-turn when roughly sixty-nine male heads locked onto the woman. Heh.

the only true currency in this bankrupt world is what we share with someone else when we're uncool

2006-01-31T11:50:00.000+06:00

The following is an excerpt from the film, Almost Famous:

LESTER BANGS
They make you feel cool. And hey, I met you. You are not "cool."

WILLIAM
I know. Even when I though I was, I knew I wasn't.

LESTER BANGS
That's because we are uncool! And while women will always be a problem for guys like us, most of the great art in the world is about that very problem. Good-looking people have no spine! Their art never lasts! They get the girls, but we're smarter.

WILLIAM
I can really see that now.

LESTER BANGS
Yeah, great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love... and let's face it, you got a big head start.

WILLIAM
I'm glad you were home.

LESTER BANGS
I'm always home! I'm uncool!

in tyler we trusted

2006-01-27T18:47:00.000+06:00

"We have no great war, or great depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised by television to believe that one day we'll all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're learning slowly that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

Dai the flu. I’m relapsing -- cyclically over the past weeks. On a darker note, I’ve not been bed bound akin to the last number of innumerable times I’ve been laid up. I must be doing something different. What, I shall find out.

For now I’m farm_recuperating, addicted to an anti-sloth game. A game that we sloths shall never conquer.

left on the jungle floor, jackie's dressed in cobras

2006-01-11T17:33:00.000+06:00

With what the majestic cannot find,
In the business of your lives,
The perception, it is wrong, mile after mile,
The phantom taste drinking wine from your heels.
We have arrived too late to play the bleeding heart show.

- the bleeding heart show

By arguably one of the best indie rock supergroups to come out in recent times - The New Pornographers. They kick ass. Pardon the pun.

Why supergroup? I’m not just saying that because they are but because the band members are "ridiculously talented" and from some classy indie acts. There’s Zumpano’s Carl Newman, guest vocalist Neko Case, The Evaporators’ John Collins, etcetera; well, I haven’t heard all of ‘em but I should. Oh, and they’re Canadian…take it easy, they're an exception.

I’ve gotta get their previous LPs, and if Twin Cinema (their latest) is anything to go by, they should be classics already.

this is your life and it's ending one minute at a time

2006-01-06T10:42:00.000+06:00

The warding off of all them eve party invites left me sapped and worn out. Too weary to pull away from the chaps that wanted to set some crackers alight. So I sauntered along and lit a sky rocket or two.

duder: dude, what’s that strange lookin’ thing you smokin’?
slothy: err, it’s a mosquito coil.
duder: dude! Show me how you smoke it.
slothy: no you moron, I’m using it to light the crackers in the wind. Pretty nifty, eh?
duder: oooh. Me gonna grab some nila (sparkling sticks).
slothy: you pansy. <feels tough with sky rocket>
duder: <attempts to stab slothy with nila>
slothy: noo. arg-ick. bastard!
duder: who the bastard? and who the pansy?

So this one guy wanted to be back home by midnight cause it was significant to him. We moseyed along to the car and made it in the nick of time. Only trouble was that he resides amongst some umm squalid locales. Hence, when new year struck, the roads erupted with cracker fire, and some dudes just beat each other up. Since we didn’t wanna be raped, we chilled for an hour…in the car. And that’s as far as I’ll take you, into the rabbit hole.

While people spent those minutes at starred hotels, we slummed it at the slums. How many people can say they started the new year that way? No, the dwellers don’t count. A guy javelined a sky rocket to a neighbouring house and another dived in to retrieve it. It all subsided slowly; and ended with them sitting on their doorsteps sipping tea. Reached home around one-ish and felt a cold coming on.

you'd better turn around and blow your kiss goodbye to life eternal

2005-12-30T18:50:00.000+06:00

The end of the year is near, and I fear that the merry-makers are gonna party extra hard this year to make up for last year’s sober eve. Silly bastards. I hope to sleep through the transition. Block out the racket of crackers, et cetera. Or do something more exciting like umm take a shower an hour before next year, kick open the loo door and declare that “I’m only gonna get dressed next year”. Might be too stimulating though.

Regrets? I regret not buying those mount beach eve party tickets. Solely ‘cos some party chumps were desperate and I could’ve sold ‘em all at a high black-market price. Yup, there’s gonna be some heavy celebrating; even the minorities are gearing up to party with a bang. “Bang” being the operative here.

Doubtlessly, the worst part of a new year’s eve party is the irksome countdown. That’s one stress-filled, superficial countdown, and I don’t believe anyone really enjoys that ten-second count. If you’re smart, and somewhat sober, keep glancing at your watch and plan ahead. A few minutes before the cursed countdown, you attempt to subsist in the vicinity of some gorgeous drunken slut, and when zero hits, you at least get your best snog of the year. Albeit, this has its repercussions. The other alternative is to search frantically for some decent looking chick, avoiding the chick that has the hots for you and also ensuring that it’s not someone you knows mom. At the end, it’s always safest and best to snog a bunch of guys first. Well, if you did happen to come with a partner, you wouldn’t be too thrilled to witness her wishing all those drunken gropers. But you seize that opportunity to quickly make a move on that drunken slut, who right away manages to sober up miraculously. Yeah,... it sucks.

Resolutions? I dunno, I guess I could resolve to do something to better my life but I’d prefer to let the sloth_skeletons lie. There’s always next year.

oh please let me sleep, it's christmas time

2005-12-23T19:15:00.000+06:00

It’s the time of year when I regret not being in school or some institution, umm educational, of sorts. I miss those holiday weeks. Usually, a couple of blissful weeks to spend more time with your family or in my case, bed and music (not carols). Here at the farm, only boxing/tsunami commemoration day is considered a day off. And I doubt we’ll have a snow day.

In keeping with the christmas spirit I donned a santa cap and got laughed at. Caps don’t fit well on my head for some odd reason. I can't stand caps. Evening traffic has swelled probably due to them xmas shoppers; and the light decor keeps blinding me while I drive. It’s tougher to drive at christmas time. The clothes stores are filled to capacity and I try to stave off, but i’ve been told to visit particular stores to witness how fast the cashiers work; remove tags, etc.

At least the weather’s cooled down and it’s easier to sleep. Although, the jingle of carols keeps me awake at night. That, and the “last christmas” remixes. I’m losin’ it. I strongly suggest that the entire carol catalogue be revamped and categorized into genres -- metal/indie/grunge/classic/pansy pop. I’m pretty much bored with the monotony. However, that may never happen. Incidentally, I did a quick search and found this. <yawn>

what else could i write, i don't have the right

2005-12-13T14:46:00.000+06:00

Last days. Revolves around a grunge rocker’s last days; the last manic-depressive days before his suicide. Sounds familiar to say, umm the last days of cobain’s life before his alleged suicide? Perhaps.

It’s not a biopic but gus van sant (indie director who directed some languid flicks such as gerry, elephant and good will hunting) surely intended to portray parallels to kurt’s final days. Even thurstan moore (from sonic youth and also kurt’s bud) plays a role and there’s a character that plays a part similar to grohl’s.

Michael pitt, although made to resemble kurt, doesn’t look like him in actuality. This laid-back picture is probably just loosely based on kurt’s last days. And it’s no doubt a devious stunt to draw-in all the nirvana fans, which comes down to, well,... every other guy. I should check it out ‘cos there aren’t many kurt films around. Couldn’t get my hands on kurt and courtney. But this should be easier.

i don’t feel safe in this world no more, but i don’t want to die in a nuclear war

2005-11-29T16:03:00.000+06:00

I had a near death experience with me farm swivel chair. It all began when I noticed the chair having the ability to recline further than I remember. So I rested me legs on two electric sockets for support and gently began to push my head and torso back.

As I was pushing, I suddenly heard a loud snap and realized I was falling back at an unsafe velocity. However, my fall was broken and my head yanked forward by my earphones being still stuck in me ears. I had a feeling the moosic would one day not be the death of me.

Farmers gathered around following the snapping sound, immediately rolling on the floor laughing their asses off. I grabbed the table, removed the earphones and slid off the chair; and did it all rather well, me thought.

Then rolled someone’s vacant chair over to me cubicle.

the raining always starts, when you go away

2005-11-28T17:25:00.000+06:00

"So slow down, slow down, you're taking me over,
And so we drown, sir we drown, stop taking me over."

- suede, the drowners.

These past pluvial weeks have pumped me full of languidity (that’s almost surely not a word, but we sloths have the authority to make words of laziness up). It’s not like we’ll pollute the dictionary with these bastardizations, cos we are just too lazy to keep at it.

The rains were bucketing down onto the streets of Colombo, which literally slowed down the entire city. The long nights didn’t help me attain extra sleep, it just made waking up an excruciatingly laborious duty. I wished I were a bear at the beginning of its hibernation period.

The flooded roads caused a widespread panic, which soon subsided due to the traffic crawl. The farmers arrived one to two hours later than usual and the justification was a given. Thus, the sudden spurts of torrential downpour complement a sloth’s existence in a bustling city, where nearly every dweller receives a dose of sloth. There’s a sense of hibernation in the air except for the folks the floods displaced; the unfortunate folk.

The streaks of lightning and the reverberation of thunder fascinated me, except for when the trip went out and I was too lazy to turn it back on. Actually, lightning is pretty electrifying when you’re in the dark. The sudden flashes illuminating a poster on the wall and throwing shadow forms all over. Then I feel the mosquitoes sucking on me, so I get up to flip the trip switch. It instantly switches back off. I turn it on again. What follows is a sound of short-circuiting, <creech crich> <pause> “dang it”.

with eyes so dilated, i’ve become your pupil

2005-11-09T17:58:00.000+06:00

Was rockin’ to some fugazi, with the influence the underground band has had on the indie-ish bands that went mainstream, slowly dawning upon me. But subsequent to maybe the second “bulldog front” track listen, I recognized something distinctive about the track’s outro. It sounded freakingly familiar to a tune I’ve heard before, but not as of late. I was trying to put my finger on it when like a static electric charge running through my fingers after dragging my feet along a carpeted floor and turning a steel door handle, it hit me!

Now, I’m not too sure at whom to point a finger at ‘cos album and ep release dates don’t say much about when a song was actually crafted; as in its inception. But fugazi’s bulldog front outro is pretty similar to “drain you”. Yup, Nirvana’s drain you - the bridge part. It seems more plausible that kurt borrowed this fragment from fugazi since kurt supposedly used a rubber duck, chains, and an aerosol can instead of actual guitars.

Now that all we sucky guitar players know what to do; go grab that duck, your kinky chains, and that spray can you used to graffiti your school with or rather swathe that scratch you made while driving your dad’s car. Will we have a quirky, creative side band in the making? With a cult following? Where we go from there, is a choice I leave to you.

yes i know, but i must say in my own defense

2005-11-07T18:56:00.000+06:00

There’s this dude at the farm who keeps kicking me outta my cubicle. He did it when I got fired and he’s doing it again now. He’s starting to annoy me but I guess moving around has its benefits. My current place has a massive hub connecting up a section of machines, which leaves me little room for stretching legs space and me keeps knocking it and fluctuating the network. Well, I guess things could be worse, and actually they are. There’s this guy; this guy, who I shall dub freaky_man.

freaky_man: hi, I broke the cd in this library book I borrowed, what shall I do?
slothy: just give it back and pretend to know nothing about it
freaky_man: I think I’ll order it from amazon and replace the cd and keep the book
slothy: or that.

freaky_man: I’m going to remove this mole from my face.
slothy: ahh.
freaky_man: what time are you leaving?
slothy: late! very late.

freaky_man: my sister’s getting married tomorrow, so I won’t be coming.
slothy: ahh.
freaky_man: what time are you leaving?
slothy: late! later than yesterday.

freaky_man: I’m back on track.
slothy: you went off track?
freaky_man: yes, (and relates a most, i assume, unfortunate narrative) <me nods concernedly>
slothy: ok, I’m off for badminton.

And that’s when I got walloped by the women.

take me to a place where you go

2005-10-19T14:31:00.000+06:00

Which File Extension are You?

where is my mind

2005-10-14T16:09:00.000+06:00

The web's most annoying site, maybe.

your scent is still here in my place of recovery

2005-10-13T18:28:00.000+06:00

Just when I thought it’s safe to assume unemployment forever, the farm recalls me. Yesterday was my first day back at the farm. True, I crawled back unashamedly but not without certain requests being met. I asked for compensation, which they refused. I asked for a promotion, which they refused. I asked for more benefits, which they refused. Finally, they decided to throw in a buck or two more and a cut down probationary period. I’m easily convinced.

The sloth return was received in different lights. Some chaps thought that I’ve lost it since the firing. Probably the hair. Others thought that I’ve being a comatose animal for the past months. Thus, I’m currently placed under a quarantine of sorts. I don’t see many people I know. I don’t quite know where I am. It’s an away cubicle. On occasion, a someone I have no recollection of comes up to me and says “welcome back”.

slogi

2005-10-02T23:36:00.000+06:00

If I continue with my indolent lifestyle, I may kick the bucket before thirty. Therefore, a bud proposed yoga. A slow but sure way of keeping fit without all the hassles of exercise and work-out equipment.

I wasn’t entirely convinced but the yogi lady said that a little yoga a day would keep me in the pink and the gym away. That did it.

Knowing my non-sticking_with_things_I_start nature, I’d probably quit after a few excruciating sessions but this time I’ve come up with a workaround. –

Although she usually conducts classes individually (couples/lovers have to attend separately as well), we somehow convinced her that we were something more than those conventional life partners. Thus, he’d drag me along squirming and yelping.

Oook. My spine hurts from sitting up straight.

life’s a bummer, when you’re a hummer

2005-09-22T23:54:00.000+06:00

As I was sitting up in my room humming to the sounds of the shins, mum kicks the door open; I look up from my reading of the time travel stories book to where she stood holding a mop and bucket.

Mum: clean and mop your room you lazy bum
Slothy: wha? Huh? Where the maid?
Mum: she left a month ago
Slothy: damn, man
Mum: now get to work cos you’ve got no excuse not to
Slothy: you don’t understand; lemme tell you something about the slot-
Mum: shut up and mop
Slothy: fine! Where’s the blue mop sucker? The teleseen stuff…
Mum: those broke ages ago
Slothy: man, I hate teleseen
Mum: you told me to buy it idiot and you bought that exercise thing as well
Slothy: ahh

I did buy a silly gym thing. One stretchy chord snapped eons ago and they never have one in stock cos of the war in iraq. I’m not entirely sure how that’s connected but they said it is. I’ve gotta now catch up on my brood time.

in brood

2005-09-22T00:10:00.000+06:00

The precedent months have been not so good to say the least. I am home now. Not my niche but my actual home. For I am without employment. The pit screwed me. The farm fired me. Even the hole has forsaken me and I left the qe'rs hellhole.

I’ve been diagnosed with slow blood pressure. After a long sit, the pressure takes an untold amount of time to rise. This may account for the dizzy spells. I need more salt and exercise. The CRT monitors pose a problem as well.

I am directionless and might now pursue a career in taxi driving, which was my childhood ambition, uncannily enough. Ironically, I am also quite clueless when it comes to streets, roads, lanes and there whereabouts.

Brooding and pondering about brooding has helped me flit past this period of trauma. A state where brooding is the norm and my life is one big brood.

a qe'r no more

2005-09-15T23:08:00.000+06:00

Me called it quits. Quits after a day. And I don't wanna talk about it.

fired in the hole

2005-09-07T10:57:00.000+06:00

Actually, I wasn’t; it just sounded fitting. I’m blowing the hole. Sam and harry didn’t take it too well. Shock, fear, followed by an emotional breakdown was the general progression as I recall.

I’m gonna miss the molly’s lunch leftovers and well, this adulterous adsl line since the ad agency (q&e), where I’ll be a qe’r, might probably not be too cyber oriented. If all fails, I could still use the hole as my fallback option according to sam. Fall back into the hole sorta thing.

It’s tough being directionless and having nowhere to go but maybe if I strive to put right what once went wrong and hope that this next step would be; er, that was too profound a start.

hole-ier than thou

2005-08-26T15:31:00.000+06:00

My pc in the hole is on the blink. I’m using harry’s little machine. An antique hp brio. Quite cute actually. Harry is missing in action, which has been nagging at my suspicions.

This may or may not be my final post. It’s Flag the Sloth week, and enough collected flags could put me outta business. Although I’m not quite sure how the flagellation operates, I’m gonna try a reverse psychology tactic by flagging my own blog. That oughta confound the blogger bosses.

Four goys and a goyle have joined the hole. They don’t talk much. They huddled in a corner and stared at slothy, who intermittently glanced back and slothy smiled. After an immeasurable amount of time, one huddler posed a query. “Are – you – a - foreigner?” I was taken aback, maybe because my chair back’s a little wilted. I crooked forward and responded with an “umm no”.

if you can remember the '60s, then you weren't there

2005-08-15T15:41:00.000+06:00

"We are stardust, We are golden, And we got to get ourselves back to the garden." –"Woodstock" by Joni Mitchell (who never actually appeared at the Woodstock Festival)

Woodstock, not woodstock, or sage’s pothead avatar w00dstock, took place on this very day in 1969. The swingin’ sixties, which I wish I was born in. ahh the ‘60s. My slothiness would have been much appreciated and been more fruitful then, no doubt.

Hippies chilled for three rainy days filled with music, beer and dope. Three days of peace and music. Three whole days. Nowadays, it’s either one or the other. We should have our own woodstock in sl.

Just bands doing psychedelic covers. Churning insane jams. It usually rains and suns here. We’ve got all the necessary ingredients. You bring the bell bottoms, I’ll bring the flowers.

rabbit hole

2005-08-11T10:24:00.000+06:00

I heard you fell into a rabbit hole
Covered yourself up in snow
Baby, tell me where'd you go
For days and days
Did they make you stay up all night?
Did they paint your face that pasty white?
You're thirsty but your appetite
Is chased away.

- bright eyes

More strange people pop into the hole; not knowing that once you pop you can’t stop. These strangers query the availability of jobs in the hole. Why anyone would wanna work in this hole, I dunno. Perhaps it’s the hole challenging experience.

Sam, Harry and I’ve noticed a workplace adjacent to the hole. It seemed sorta dodgy at first and now it seems even dodgier. We’ll call it rabbit.

Rabbits like holes. There are ex-farmers in this rabbit. Anyhole, from this rabbit comes a woman sporadically. She opted for being the receptionist at both the rabbit and the hole. Like a double rabbit-hole agent. But we rejected the offer. Today she comes to the hole for some red coloured printouts, which printed in pink, much to our hilarity.

Sam didn’t like all this and came up with a mind-blowing rabbit conspiracy and espionage theory.

the hole truth, and nothing butt

2005-08-10T18:30:00.000+06:00

Hole entertainment - whee.

if you were any thinner, you wouldn't exist

2005-08-08T12:28:00.000+06:00

The latest weekend was a more laidback than usual weekend where I resorted to movies, burning cds and local tv/radio. The Machinist was more interesting than the rest since it seemed deeper, darker. Now go darker, deeper. Not that deep!

Many movies revolve around hell or heaven; you rarely find good purgatory movies these days. This is that movie. A surrealistic, psychological, psycho flick. Since I couldn’t figure out parts I checked this. Wait! First watch it and then check that. Yeah, the ending makes you climax in a massive hemorrhaging movie rewind flashback. Like memento but not really.

The most disturbing part was Christian Bale’s insomnia – no sleep for a year (movie wise) and his weight diminution to 63lbs (non movie wise). I just had to sleep a lot more to deal with it.

hole history

2005-08-04T13:39:00.000+06:00

Since I’m the receptionist cum writer cum everything in the hole kinda guy I get to meet a lotta weirdoes. Most of the hole’s clients/visitors stem from the company that existed before the hole’s time. A company that embezzled, ripped and ran off leaving a flock of irate clientele behind. Now and every then I have to put up with the wrath of these hell bent on revenge freaks.

Those bastards left a dark void behind, and we the hole, took over that void. We are essentially now, a hole in one.

fire faux

2005-08-03T11:58:00.000+06:00

A dear friend, Dr. Sameera has invented an all sri lankan web browser. It’s revolutionary! It’s avant-garde! It's ananmanan. Grab it while stocks last. Also, visit this.

Note: This browser is freeware.

sam in the hole

2005-08-02T18:39:00.000+06:00

face2face:

sam: can you find some nice, tall, smart girls?
slothy: probably not but for what?
sam: don’t worry about whitey; I’ll protect them from him
slothy: that’s nice to know
sam: so do you know any? For the reception, secretarial work, etc.
slothy: well, I’ll look around. They usually come out at night.
Sam: thanks

What we need is a ho in the hole.

harry in the hole

2005-08-02T18:37:00.000+06:00

Harry is the fall guy cum scapegoat. Whitey tried to explain this to him, but he didn’t quite understand his role in the hole.

In a convo-shell:

slothy: i told him to refill the epson black ink cartridges
slothy: and now they aren't recognized by the printer
mardy: heh heh
slothy: this is no laughing matter
slothy: harry is panicking!
mardy: shit, calm harry down...
slothy: he's the fall guy.
mardy: god only knows what he might do
mardy: i say blame it all on harry...
mardy: if anybody's gonna lose a job because of this, its going to have to be harry...
slothy: he spent 1500 and tore the electronic circuitry with the syringe
slothy: harry can’t go. we need him

Harry holds a firm position in the hole.

whitey in the hole

2005-08-02T18:36:00.000+06:00

Me being the only subordinate in the hole has frustrated the holers on the whole. After some enquiries and background checks, sam recruited a fine female to coordinate tasks and watch over us in the hole. Alas! that blasted whitey had to mess it all up by his so-called innocent sexual harassment advances on her. We are now back to all men in the hole. A manhole.

hole

2005-08-02T18:07:00.000+06:00

Down in a hole, feelin’ so small
Down in a hole, losin’ my soul
I’d like to fly,
But my wings have been so denied

- AIC

I’ve managed to stumble upon employment. Let’s begin the inauguration by terming the joint “hole”. I have been subjected to dealings with harry, sam and whitey. It’s all very experimental, this hole.

I enter the kitchen to only find tea bags, milk powder, sugar and a kettle. Not knowing what to do, I pour some cold water, throw in a tea bag, add some milk powder and sugar. What formed was a brownish liquid with white floating sediments. Mortified, I gulped it down hurriedly and almost choked.

at the blasphemy in my old jangly walk

2005-07-12T18:56:00.000+06:00

I rode piggyback, for use of a better word on baldus’ bike. The radiant red kenwood helmet was the tricky part although I managed to take off me glasses and place the helmet on, then put the glasses back on. I looked sorta funny looking with my shorts and sneakers but nevertheless held onto the bikers are tough dogma.

The return journey’s traffic was jam packed; worse than a jar of strawberry jam with hardly any breathing space at the very top just below the jar lid. So baldus decided to take the pavement route coz we were five minutes away and had been waiting for fifteen. I had to dismount since the pavement seemed to be an undulating roll of concrete.

So I slothily walked behind ol trundling baldus with my kenwood red helmet on. The traffic jammees were stunned and were probably laughing their asses off, deviating from the traffic jam at hand.

Public service sloth.

cocooning

2005-07-07T00:21:00.000+06:00

Last week’s been almost a work week. Hadn’t had much quality time to kickback and listen to the vibes of all the farm-gathered mp3s.

Burnt some stones, grateful dead, queen, steely dan and bowie material. It’s amazing how greatly these bands’ early releases differ from the popular radio-airplay exhausted tracks, especially queen and the stones; by which I mean, they are remarkable.

Ooh also found some live bootlegged pumpkins concerts, which is always an indulgence; geek usa and cherub rock just rock and corgan usually churns up an awesome silverfuck jam. The acoustic-laden version of thirty-three left me immobile for a while.

Burning the concerts were a problem coz of the slight mini-second pause between tracks, which is ideally supposed to be unpresent as the concert’s are continuous. I gotta figure out how to seamlessly meld the live shows into one melded show, and I’ve got time, lotsa time.

adsl venture i

2005-07-05T23:31:00.000+06:00

I have to begin going about attempting to gather adsl info. Apparently, I might miss out on the adsl loop and thus have to wait indefinitely for a connection coz everybody wants to be in the loop; gotta be in the loop; wanna be in the loop; and I say, what the hell’s the loop? Trivial pun from somewhere.

Soon after an irritating contact lens putting, I picked up that heavy yellow paperback with the phone numbers and dialled the telecom. They told me to visit my nearest teleshop and mentioned regrettably that there isn’t one in good ol dehiwela. This is gonna be harder than I thought.

i'm wearing lipstick

2005-07-03T00:07:00.000+06:00

You Are a Social Blogger!

Your blog is more of a semi-private affair for your friends.
It's how you keep in touch... sharing stories, jokes, and pics.

What kind of blogger are you?

cheers

2005-07-01T23:49:00.000+06:00

All my life I’ve been waiting for. Gimme an A, gimme a D-S-L and what does that spell? ADSL has expanded; expanded to Dehiwela and beyond, and coming to a town near you.

Actually, it’s been around for a while. I was just slow.

specs saga ii

2005-06-30T23:13:00.000+06:00

"I am tired, I am weary
I could sleep for a thousand years
A thousand dreams that would awake me
Different colours made of tears"
-VU

Now that about sums up the contacts’ effect.

Amidst all the contact lens commotion, I overlooked the purchase of the black butterfly glasses. Consequently, I had to head on back to Vision Care where they were gone; sold out; filched from under me by a lepidopterous loving blind bastard! Maybe I’m being a bit too hard on the taker but I despondently had to pick another pair.

A pile of frames and an exasperated clerk later, I settled on a warped butterfly pair. It supposedly requires an extra effort to grind and high-index (squash the negative seven plump plastic) the lenses for affixation onto the warped frame. Hence, next week perhaps.

mit

2005-06-30T00:35:00.000+06:00

Went for an MIT (popularly known as the Massachusetts Institute of Technology) interrogation. The SL MIT, although IT related is dissimilar with no affiliations.

Situated in the middle of nowhere, I managed to hitch a ride in a wedding car. The security personnel had a laugh and mentioned something about this not being a hotel.

Met some pit chaps, and a chap I knew from elsewhere. The place seems like a sweatshop to me with no poya and weekend holidays at times and long working hours plus a wide variety of physically-devastating sporting and gymming facilities topping it off with a bloodcurdling swimming pool. The interrogators enquired as to whether this was all acceptable to me; I uttered a reluctant “err ok”.

I think it went umm rather well.

specs saga i

2005-06-28T18:29:00.000+06:00

After a frantic search for the remnants of my ex-specs, I unearthed a pair of dorky yellowing glasses. They seemed like a notch or two lower; perhaps a negative five, which is all right but what I really required is a negative seven odd.

Called my gb (good buddy and/or gay buddy to others) and headed off on a spectacles search spree. I contemplated over the design and we concurred eventually on the black butterfly shaped frame.

Vision Care (the opticians) sent me for an eye check-up to this doctor dude who immediately suggested contact lenses and I opted for the disposable ones. I was then sent to a chick for training.

Training session citations:

Chick: you first place your contacts in the solution.
<places contacts on slothy’s right index finger>
Slothy: ooh kinda squishy; what are they made of?
Chick: jelly-ish something.
Slothy: will they tear (get it, tear?, heh.) if I stretch them?
Chick: yes, stop that.
Slothy: oh ok.
Chick: now pull your upper eyelid with your eyelashes upwards and your lower eyelid downwards.
Slothy: <does something silly>
Chick: are you left or right handed?
Slothy: err right.
Chick: then use your left hand please.
Slothy: ahhh <does some funny looking eye stretching>
Chick: now look straight and place lens on pupil.
Slothy: ok, got it. <places lens on closed eyelid>
Chick: you closed your eye.
Slothy: auto-reaction, I guess.

15 minutes pass with no avail

Chick: let me do it.
Slothy: ok.
Chick: <stretches slothy’s eyelids and places lens in>
Slothy: oooh, argh! I got something in my eye.
Chick: yes, the irritation will pass.
Slothy: let’s try the other eye.
Chick: <stretches slothy’s eyelids and places lens in>
Slothy: I can see!... argh! The pain!
Chick: it will pass.
Slothy: I hope so.
Chick: now let’s try the removal procedure.
Slothy: <sigh>
Chick: stretch your eyelids and place your fingers on the pupil part and pluck it out.
Slothy: you want me to touch my eyeball?
Chick: yes, but you’ll be touching the contact lens.
Slothy: this is disturbing.
Chick: you’ve got big eyes and lashes, this should be very simple.
Slothy: really? Is that a good thing?
Chick: let’s get on with it.
Slothy: <places fingers on pupil and freaks out>

15 minutes pass with no avail

Chick: ok, let me show you.
Slothy: okey dokes.
Chick: <removes lens from slothy’s eye>
Slothy: that was easy.
Chick: <washes lens in solution>, now let’s try placing it back.
Slothy: err ok.
Slothy: <attempts to places lens, which gets caught in eyelashes and flips onto table>
Chick: Jesus!

Doctor enters

Doc: Jesus?
Slothy: Jesus?
Chick: can you help us, this isn’t working. I need a break.
Doc: ha ha.
Slothy: are you giving up on me? Do you think we don’t see eye-to-eye on this? <slothy grin>
Chick: something like that. I’m leaving.

slothy and doc watches her hurry out the door

Slothy: ok doc, it’s just you and me now.
Doc: ok, let me see how you do it.
Slothy: <places lens, which gets caught in eyelashes>
Doc: ahh, your upper eyelid pushes the lens out.
Slothy: Does that mean I can’t wear contacts?
Doc: no, look down when you place the lens on your eye.
Slothy: will do.

Few minutes pass

Slothy: <places lens, successfully>
Chick: whoa! His eyes are turning red.
Doc: great! huh? whoa! It’s probably coz you’ve been poking your eye for the past hour.
Doc: let’s take it out.
Slothy: I hate contacts. Oh, you're back.
Doc: ha ha, that’s what all the first timers say, although you’ve taken an unusually long time. The oriental chaps find it most difficult.
Slothy: The china men, dude?
Doc: Now pincer your index and thumb and pluck out the lens from your pupil. Look straight.

Few minutes pass

Slothy: <plucks out lens, successfully>
Doc: congrats! I gotta go now.
Slothy: thanks doc.
Doc: oh by the way, remove them in 4 hours today, tomorrow 6 hours and from then on 12 hours.
Slothy: err when do I do after I remove them?
Doc: put on your specs of course. Ha ha!
Slothy: <sigh>

slothy's specs

2005-06-26T13:34:00.000+06:00

Been chilling and tripping for more than two devoid of work weeks. Tripped to Ambalangoda, where a most unfortunate incident tooketh place.

We decided to scope some slippery rocks close to shore where the sea seemed seethed. After a tricky slow ascent, I resolutely called for a break, and was about to recline when a maniacal wave whacked me off the rock subjecting me to some intense pirouetting. For reasons unbeknownst, I slammed into the some wet sand and managed to thwart the enthusiastically receding wave, only to discover that I was blinded by the fact that my spectacles had been taken; taken iniquitously.

We waited forlornly for the taken spectacles’ arrival whilst slowly attracting couples of sparse spectators. They didn’t.

mostly harmless

2005-06-08T15:43:00.000+06:00

Yesterday was my last day at the farm. Slothy was unlawfully terminated based on the random probation theory. Yep, all that paid for slothing has come to an abrupt screeching halt, faster than you can say, "you're fired!" or maybe not; thus, I will have to start my sluggish search for another source of cash, eventually.

Although my official final day was yesterday, I stealthily managed to make it past the security and do a bit of soul searching and blogging. Yeah, I’m living on the edge. Also, I needs to get all me mp3s out; undecorate me burrow; profess my love; fill in the clearance forms, get the letters, surrender my curtailed tasks, which I may alter a bit – muahahahaha!, step into each "firing squad" member's office and mention what a not a very nice guy he is; and of course last but not least - hand over my thing.

<sigh> so many things to do, so little time.

Help Me I'm Trapped Behind This Mime Wall, He Gestured Frantically

2005-06-02T18:29:00.000+06:00

A certified slothy guest post by the forgemeister. Had to go through a lotta red tape to get this one up. Take it from here forgey -

The Sloth wanted a guest post on his "slothy ancestry".

No, wait, let me guess. The Sloth was too lazy to come up with an actual topic. What he actually wanted was a guest post that overused the word "sloth" in some novel way; I don't think he really expected me to either research his genealogy or go through the tedium of making one up (Sloth begat Sloth begat Sloth begat Sloth... slowly) or even speculate wittily about his various possible slothy ancestors. You know the drill. Ugg-Sloth, the Ur-Sloth caveman, who tried to bonk prospective mates on the head with his club like he was supposed to, but couldn't get it up fast enough. They say he only managed to breed because he was too slow to react to the Ice Ages. Or Tony "Slothy" Slothilli, the laziest Mafia assassin in history. Never actually killed anybody, but had the slouching around in dark corners down pat, lived to a ripe old age. As opposed to, say, "Wild Bill" Slothick, slowest draw in the Wild West, or Slothkins Slythe, the slowest sleuth in Sin City. Or the Teleslothies, one of the first lovable kiddie-television idols, fortunately short-lived, whose act consisted of doing absolutely nothing. The show seemed to go on forever... Und so weiter, und so weiter. How dull. Ve so tired now, ja? Let's do something else now.

I'm sure the Sloth did not have in mind an open competition for Yo Momma So Slothy jokes. But now that I've thought of it, I'm sure he'll love the idea. Go on. Competition open. Best one gets a prize. Seriously. Give it a go. Yo Momma so slothy, when she smacks your slothy arse for being such a slowpoke slow-it-all, she doesn't even get a punch line for this joke until 2025. See, it's easy. And if nobody tops that, I'm taking the prize home myself.

I know it's been a while since the Sloth asked me to write this. I really meant to get around to actually writing it some day. I've been skipping it because it's so... annoying. You know. Like the sloth. Sloths are disgusting animals, just ask Timmy Jay. (No, it's too gross. You'll really have to ask Timmy Jay, who is this years Keeper of Dirty Sloth Secrets.) But it occurred to me earlier that, in this case, the sheer delay between guest post request and actual guest post is actually *part* of the guest post. It's, like, performance art. Totally post-modern, very hip. Hell, it's post-hip. It's post-traumatic stress disorder. It's the BLEEDING POST OFFICE! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! And that is by far the coolest thing you're going to see on the Sloth's blog for years to come.

My work here is done.

...Or is it?

Forge Smith · 16:14 You have been reading a Special Guest Edition of Six O'Clock. All Rights Ridiculed.

for the archives

2005-05-31T19:55:00.000+06:00

Today was my final day at the Horton Place place (petting zoo – aka farm warehouse). My work there is finally done, and my sexual preferences although having endured serious mind-numbing blows may still have the resilience to return to its original state, which is well, still undetermined.

Due to the lack of quality skirts during my stay, I strayed away; or perhaps regressed. Away from the skirts and towards the eye-candy men. Took me back to the wee ol days; bonded with the best em. Boys’ night out and day.

During my absence, a lotta changes have taken place at the farm. Loki ain’t my adjacent cubicle buddy anymore; she’s now a down the aisle inside glass room buddy.

I’m back at the farm, and things are returning to ordinariness.

malady

2005-04-08T19:54:00.000+06:00

Took a week for slothy to almost fully recuperate from the dreaded viral fever flu. Left me immobile for 4 days, which is not a bad thing but the nausea and loss of appetite were.

Almost OD’d on antibiotics to only later discover their inefficitivity towards viruses. Dagnammit! Celebrated my recovery with some buttered prawns resulting in a slight relapse.

Had an outlandish return to farm experience where I discovered my cubicle cleaned up and comp unplugged. Naturally, me figured I was fired and looked towards callous loki for support, who regrettably was, well, callous.

However, it was all a little practical joke played on slothy as a welcome back/get well gesture. Z was in on it too; how very odd; I think I bring out a child in her.

The local radio stations have no doubt left me with some serious side/after-effects. I should have changed the RC batteries when I was a fit sloth. Thus, I was stuck with the classic station for a day, with tunes such as Candida ringing and still ringing in my head; and I’m convalescing.

wholly

2005-04-01T10:07:00.000+06:00

In the name of the father, the son, holy spirit and click here to find out the new fourth person in the holy trinity (now known as the quadhead) due to sexist reasons.

Hmmm, me wonders where the hand'll be positioned during incantation.

cream

2005-03-30T16:47:00.000+06:00

Ice cream day at the farm – free unlimited ice cream. Slothy won best model for posing with a pink popsicle; the pink phallic popsicle was placed punctiliously on my own phallus. With no intention of winning, I won, which says a lot about the farm adjudicators.

Also came runner-up for best new ice cream title – “sloth-cream (the slow dripp)”
P.S. If anyone is feeling ice cream entrepreneurial, mail me.

rafting for the rifting

2005-03-28T15:36:00.000+06:00

I saw my last blog date and it dawned on me; I have been blogging inactively in a while, so plummeted the decision to blog in a while and this is it, after that while, hence, now.

Some farmers and slothy went on a leadership training adventure to this far off hotel place with free food and lodging where I learned to be a leader; a delegating leader, according to the trainer feedback and mcqs.

Amongst other sloth-defying activities, we built a raft with barrels, planks and rope and yours truly was the motivator - “we have a sloth here and we ain’t gonna make it unless we work twice as hard as those guys (the other team)” and it worked! – my first leadership act put into action, a success!

Fortuitously, they showed their appreciation by choosing a female, a little guy and 2 burly chaps to row instead of me. The little rowing dude almost passed out on the half way mark so I had to take over; I began stirring the water. As quick as a thunderbolt, a motion picture with the slow motion turned on, started to play in my head. I looked towards my raft mates and then the shore mates. Amidst the barrage of screams, and gesticulations, I mimicked the shore fellows’ actions, and impulsively whacked the water with the oar, simultaneously splashing water all over the female rower. Kinda like stirring the soup and making her taste it muahah. The little dude then grabbed my oar and we both rowed together to shore. The raft affair epitomised the essence of the leadership training.

pulp

2005-03-16T11:52:00.000+06:00

Your inner child screams for cartoons and sugary cereals, but your adult tastes love the buzz of quality mind altering substances. Sooner or later, you're going to have to grow up, at least a bit.

Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

meh-day

2005-03-10T18:25:00.000+06:00

As in mayday (derived from the French M'aidez! (help me)) and not May day (labour day). Yeah, "meh" keeps popping up every now and then and befuddles poor slothy. Everything I say results in a meh, which I attribute to the exceeding versatility of the expression. "How was it?" - "meh", "You like me?" - "meh", "You suck!" – "meh", "I wanna have your baby!" – "meh". Yeah, many questions can be simply and slothily answered by meh.

So what does meh really mean? Slothy conducted some research on meh:

-Indifference; to be used when one simply does not care.
-The verbal equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders.
-Bah!
-Shut the fuck up!
-Yes
-No
-Maybe
-Screw you!
-Err
-Screw me!
-Whatever
-Screw her!
-Definitely
-Screw him!

Yeah meh can mean a lotta things.

An unword definition:

A multi-purpose response, primarily used to imply a degree of indifference. Tone of voice and circumstance often implies a meaning. Can be used when you don't want to answer an awkward or embarrassing question, or if you just plain have nothing else to say, and you want the other person to interpret the "meh" however he/she chooses.
As in: Q: "What do you think of my new dress?" A: "Meh." or Q: "What do you want to do tonight?" A: "Meh." – Anonymous

Meh.

these tests suck testes

2005-03-03T18:05:00.000+06:00

I am 54% Idiot.

I am an idoit. Not as much as most. There are even people out there that annoy the hell out of me. What was I talking about?

Take the
Idiot Test
@ FualiDotCom

I am 26% Asshole/Bitch.

I may think I am an asshole or a bitch, but the truth is I am a good person at heart. Yeah sure, I can have a mean streak in me, but most of the people I meet like me.

Take the
Asshole/Bitch Test
@ FualiDotCom

I am 42% Grunge.

What's this? The longest I've been without a shower is three days? Not even close, man. I should go sit out in the rain for a week.

Take the
Grunge Test
@ FualiDotCom

I am 52% Metal Head.

I rock just as hard as the rest of the thrash set, except when no ones looking I like to get down with a little "More than a Feeling."

Take the
Metal Head Test
@ FualiDotCom

I am 39% Geek.

You probably work in computers, or a history deptartment at a college. You never really fit in with the "normal" crowd. But you have friends, and this is a good thing.

Take the
Geek Test
@ FualiDotCom

I am 51% Internet Addict.

I am pretty addicted, but there is hope. I think I'm just well connected to the internet and technology, but it's really a start of a drug-like addiction. I must act now! Unplug this computer!

Take the
Internet Addict Test
@ FualiDotCom

interior

2005-03-02T18:51:00.000+06:00

After a tiresome review write-up for loki’s guest post feature, I’ve finally decided to blog a bit. And Timmy prodded slothy in non arousing places, why I forget; it’s a sloth thing.

Brought my old calendars to work – the nirvana and the led zep ones and began the arduous task of personalizing my cubicle space. It’s like a little square burrow. I installed a tissue box too; loki cautioned that I’m the only male to maintain a tissue box though.

Someone stuck my “light a candle for tsunami victims” ticket into my computer casing’s groove and there it will remain until someone ironically sets it aflame.

Got a little inventive when I discovered a screw-type bulb holder on my cubicle wall. I stuck it on my monitor and placed an elongated drawing pin on it. It kinda looks like a black bowler hat with a yellow bobbin stickin out of the top. I’ve christened it bobbin-bowler.

You can’t go home again but you can bring the home to you – sloth. Boy, I feel novel.

friendly neighbourhood sloth

2005-03-01T11:46:00.000+06:00

Post redirect

dammit

2005-02-22T10:16:00.000+06:00

Results Not Available

Your results cannot be displayed for one of the following reasons:

You took the test from an unauthorized page. This is the only authorized page.
Your test window of opportunity expired. You only have ten minutes to take the test.

Why do we do this?

So many people are taking this test that it is crashing our server. This was a last resort to prevent the server from crashing. I apologize for this inconvenience.

bored sloth

2005-02-17T19:09:00.000+06:00

revamping

2005-02-15T15:35:00.000+06:00

I’ve been doing a bit of revamping. Revamping a sloth blog ain’t an easy task coz I can't blog, revamp and work at the same time; I'm no multi-tasker. <shudder> calling a sloth a multi-tasker is an insult of the highest order in sloth circles. The following excerpt is taken from err I forget:

Bad guy sloth: hey multi-tasker! Heh heh heh
Sloth: why u little! <looks for rock to pick and fling>
Bad guy sloth: <looks worried and starts to walk away>
Sloth: <forgets what he was looking for>
Bad guy sloth: <gets a bit lost and decides to rest on a close to ground branch>
Sloth: <decides to do the same>

A clichéd but fond parable nevertheless.

bunny

2005-02-10T17:45:00.000+06:00

For all you cute little bunny fans out there, don’t click this.

pink, is the colour of passion

2005-02-02T15:34:00.000+06:00

well I dunno, I dunno, I hope so - tribute.

laterz.

2005-01-27T13:45:00.000+06:00

sloth: have a slow paced day
thimal: how does that sound to you ?
thimal: it sounds ... innocuous
thimal: like someone smoking pot
sloth: lol
sloth: how abt
sloth: catch u in the slo mo
thimal: you're too young to be a child of the 70s
sloth: have a bright sun-slothy day
thimal: ok now that's just plain awful
thimal: sorry, but perhaps you're trying too hard
thimal: relax
thimal: sloth out
thimal: and let the slothinspiration do it's thing
sloth: right
sloth: have a swell slower one
thimal: you perverted sloth
thimal: besides, I can think of many situations where that would NOT be appropriate
sloth: oh
thimal: a sloth is a sloth, a sloth, a sloth
thimal: and no one should talk to a sloth of course
sloth: hehe
sloth: ok I'm off
thimal: /me applauds
thimal: how's that for a goodbye tag ?
thimal: ok, I'm off ... slowly
sloth: heyyyy
sloth: ok I'm off...slowly
thimal: hmmm
thimal: it doesn't repeat very well
sloth: hmmm

girlsloth

2005-01-21T17:23:00.000+06:00

I’d like to say that I serendipitously stumbled upon the girlsloth blog but I didn’t, so I can’t. My adjacent cubicle blog buddy mentioned it when I happened to be standing and slowly surveying the space around me. The first things that leisurely struck me were a couple of interesting parallels – the usage of the same blog template and that we weirdly began blogging at roughly the same time – May 2004.

She has slow adventures in her slothutopic slothville, ahhh this all seems so surreal. She called me "boysloth", in response to the slothprint I left on her blog. I’ve never been called that before but it’s cute; and though I thought I was alone in this cruel precarious-to-sloths universe, this new finding has given me hope.

To girlsloth: here's wishing you a slow, furry day too; ok, I guess I should come up with my own goodbye greeting.

sloth, rollover

2005-01-21T15:54:00.000+06:00

Added a blogroll with quirky blog titles that slowly rolled into my head. Nicks that I thought befitting, well not really. If anyone ain't too satisfied, lemme know.

P.S. It's random.

neverending math equation

2005-01-06T17:54:00.001+06:00

"The universe works on a math equation
that never even ever really even is any end"

Now that's a rocky tongue twister! Couldn't stop tonguing it at work. <looks around cautiously for a muein diss>

now that's good coffee

2005-01-03T15:04:00.000+06:00

Celebrated the new year with a slothy movie spree; though only coffee and cigarettes caught my attention. Jim Jarmusch does an excellent job with his collection of vignettes, filmed over the past 17 years, about drinking coffee, smoking, and the kinda-mundane (hilarious and satirically streaked) dialogue that takes place between and around the social set up, including an astonishing cast – steve buscemi, meg and jack white, iggy pop and tom waits, to name a few.

The eclectic soundtrack intermingles with the coffee and cigarettes ritual; a concoction of rock, ska, funk, R&B, classical, and jazz, enhances and fits snugly into each thematically altered b&w episodic encounter.

it’s the end of the year as we know it and I feel

2004-12-31T16:46:00.000+06:00

Ryanomaly and I came up with a term to signify a person or thing that has had the misfortune of been obliterated or affected in any way by a tsunami – “tsunamised.” I am tsunamised; hell, practically all of us are. Psychiatry could entail this new sub stream; therapeutic sessions for the tsunamised survivors.

All innovations aside, the coming new year is set to be celebrated in a mournful manner. Instead of crackers -– candles; instead of happy new year <kiss hug> -- just some all round sighing. Yeah, that’s how it’s gonna be unless some bastards decide to throw in some firecrackers to celebrate their narrow tsunami escape.

Well, this is my last post for the year. sloth, over and out.

karma sumatra

2004-12-29T17:32:00.000+06:00

Residing near the usually enjoyable beach almost proved to be spirit dampening. Almost, coz I fortunately dwell in the west coast, and simply received the rebound of the east coast hit tsunami. The next day proved to be eventful coz of the various recounts of my close brush with death -

mards: how was it at your place?
sloth: yeah , there was some water coming up my road but I kicked it back…
mards: even the tsunami gets slothified when it nears your place...
sloth: hehe

Anyhoo, with the death toll rising like a never-depressing crest, the cause of deaths should perhaps be classified, as in - categorized. Maybe it’s the whole spam proj thingy that has gotten to me, but perhaps we shouldn’t give all the credit to the tsunami. After all, it did rescue 300 inmates from the Matara high-security prison (a little late xmas gift for the chaps) and those guys seem to be killing a few cops every now and again - some appreciation! Then there was the time that we were told to rush home from work coz of another tsunami attack and people (including me) almost died in traffic coz the drivers wanted to rush home before the tsunami hit. That was a false alarm; the wrath of the tsunami still seems to be lingering on.

Just when we thought things were settling down, the dopesters and jokers to the thieves, come by various homes and retail outlets screaming the “the tide is coming”, “the tide is coming”. The occupants instantly rush out whilst the Paul Reveres rush right in. Eventually the residents get bored and decide to return only to find their place plundered, and if the stealers/rapists/etc., happen to be slothy (as in - still doing whatever), the result could be fatal. Thus, this is why I propose a “death toll” classification software, yeah.

Moreover, maybe this entire disaster could have been minimized, at least to some extent if we heeded the prophecy made by this Wijewardene dude, sometime around last year. I vaguely remember forgetting his forewarning at some point. Nevertheless, he kinda got it right, mentioning the coast and all; just the earthquake part was not too accurate but he was pretty much on target. We should have taken him seriously after the somewhat accurate meteorite strike prediction (although, that was put down as a probable smallville frenzy that was going around.) And didn’t he prophesize another occurrence before Jan 8th 2005 or perhaps I’m just blathering.

how did it end up like this

2004-12-23T16:35:00.000+06:00

For a minute or two, my foot fell asleep on the gas pedal, weighing it down; the vertigo helped as well. Whilst in a haze, the needle slowly tipped from the usual 60 to 70kph. I suddenly heard the word “gun” and a cop flagged me.

Fortunately, it was only a speed gun and not some car thief/bad guy that wanted a forced lift. The cop thought I was drunk coz of the dazed walk but quickly realized that I wasn’t, oddly enough. The speed gun thingy said 110, at least that’s what I thought; it probably said 70 but due to the fuzziness, it could have been mistaken for 110. (Try performing the cross-eyed doubly thing with your eyes), notice the 110? The females lost all respect for the cops after I told them about the 110 incident.

The next day, the fine paper said 70 and I guess the cops were not so bad after all and perhaps deserved their original given respect back. At work, the guys tried to figure out the strewn scribbles on the fine paper. Phrases such as “uncrackable encryption technique” and “I can’t read this fu$#@$ writing” were sporadically spewed. Finally, it came down to payment before the day I had received the fine paper. We soon realized that that didn’t make sense, so we did a re-evaluation and figured that it wasn’t the 14th of Dec but 14 days from the time of receipt. That gives me 2 weeks to make the payment or else it’s the slammer and I’ve heard that the inmates don’t take too kindly to little sloths. I don’t recall the exact source of the saying but I’ll be sure to put it down once it comes back to me and it should…eventually.

dizzy up the sloth

2004-12-19T13:32:00.000+06:00

I’ve been feeling kinda dizzy lately. It all began with the air supply gig – ironically not enough air hehe. Any quick head movements result in 2-3 seconds of back to reality focusing. It could be due to sloth blood pressure. I dunno but I looked it up:

Symptoms:

Weak - kinda
Confused - default state
Tired - kinda
Off balance – default state
Headache - nope
Head pressure - nope
Face numbness or weakness - nope
Facial droop – don’t think so
Eye pain - nope
Vision changes or loss - maybe
Blind spots - nope
Twinkling lights – default state
Dry mouth - sometimes
Ringing in ears – nope
Chest pain - nope
Tightness, squeezing - hehe
Burning - nope
Shortness of breath - nope
Palpitations - nope
Jaw pain - nope
Nausea - nope
Vomiting - nope
Pain - nope
Cramping - nope
Tingling in arms and legs - nope
Clumsiness – default state
Weak pulses - dunno
Fast, slow, or irregular pulses – slow default state

Causes:

Conditions that affect the inner ear may cause dizziness, because this is where the organ of balance (the labyrinth) is situated.

Benign positional vertigo is another problem of the inner ear. Episodes of rotational dizziness are triggered when the person's head is moved into specific positions.

Blood pressure may fall when standing, after been seated for a while.

Man I’m messed up!

with the lights out

2004-12-16T17:48:00.000+06:00

<drool> and more <drool>... <wipes mouth>. All----my----life I’ve been waiting for these unreleased rarities to be released, and now that they've finally been released, I’ve gotta have 'em. My bro promised to get the box set if the price drops.

However, can anyone even think of placing a monetary value on this Holy Grail??? I don't think so - It's priceless!

The box set features 3 CDs with 81 tracks (63 of these were unreleased). Rehearsals, outtakes and Kurt’s home demos –mama! Plus a DVD as well – 20 full length video performances <faint>.

it’s less dangerous

2004-12-16T17:38:00.000+06:00

Awright! I finally managed to handover my dreaded “Email Spam Filtering” final year project. You bastard spammers, look what you made me do - create a worthless piece of crap that’s gonna do more harm than good for them users pathetic enough to actually use it. Anyways, I still have a demo ordeal to go through.

Even though I filled in 2 EC (Extenuating Circumstances) forms, I’ve managed to give it in before sage hehe.

Things I learned from the FYP:

Generating a Table of Contents ain’t easy.
Rebinding is cheaper than first time binding.
There is never enough time to finish the conclusion.