JVN

Math in itself is probably one of the most beautiful languages, the best of mathematicians being no less than poets. Jon Von Neumann was probably one of the undermined ones. The anecdotes of his life nonetheless have very interesting silhouettes of his mind which was no less beautiful than any other I’ve admired. There are various opinions about an incident which proves the sheer brutal power of that beautiful brain. Nothing notable till I ask you to find the biggest square you can fit in a quarter circle, inscribe a circle in it and so on…
One could directly dedudce that the biggest square would have ‘r’ as the diagonal. Or you could do what I did…
Did JVN smile wherever he was? I sure was grinning for one.
(Forgive me for being uber-bumptious; I love it.)

Memento

You wake up, it’s been barely 20 minutes that the sleep got better of you. Seems like hours; maybe days… months all together.
And then it dawns, you have a condition you bugger.
Now that there was a plain faced lie. I don’t have ‘a’ condition. I have conditions. Come to think of it, everyone who has a story to tell has a condition; If their condition allows them to; that is. Yes, but that is not what this is about; no it ain’t.
This here is when you can open your eyes and your body behaves like a god-damnedcomputer. It jerks up but one at a time. Like a system regaining it’s powers, going through checks and bringing itself up. Maybe it’s the fatigue; could be the desperation; could be even worse.
But it ain’t. it’s just my condition.
My condition.
That god forsaken condition.

Uber

The bend. I’m over it now. I’m way too bumptious to care about time, possibly that’s why it’s got a very visible contempt for me. There comes a time when you are no longer bothered by either of wins or losses; You couldn’t care less for either.

Watched a much anticipated movie recently. Probably the only thing that was wrong about the movie, was the same – it was uber.

Basin City

Damn i’m hooked! Badly!
I don’t think it’d be a copyright infringement if i repeat Miller:
“The night is as hot as hell. Everything Sticks.
It’s a lousy room in a lousy part of the town. …”
But the trouble is, once i’m hooked to something, it pretty much becomes all i can ponder over. It’s not as warm as I’m making it sound but I’ll nevertheless draw parallels. I need to kick this habit out. If it were a habit, i might have… it’s deeper than that. The cerebellum or somplace else.

I’ve always felt i’m gonna develop some kinda psychotic illness some day and not know it at all. Everything around me seems sick at times. I have repeated senses of Deja Vu. For a 22 year old, that is a very troublesome fact. to think that I have seen too much is both bumptious beyond me, but also probably incorrect. Au Contraire, if I have actually seen so much; i’m pretty much close to the climax! I like neither of those thoughts… I keep hoping I don’t have any more.

The Sun Goes Up…

And the sun goes down; Nothing changes. A wierd thought pops up in my head. Am i real at all? Am i just a figment of someone’s imagination? Is there a consequence of my actions that has any greater impact than just on me? Am i really not a character out of some Frank Miller? But then i’m sure a darker city would’ve been more likely for that to be true. Maybe it’s the truman show? Nah… There aren’t that perfect coincidences here.
Another Morning, a whole lot hotter than I want it to be; sunnier than i’d prefer; more sluggish than i’d like; soporific as hell. Murphy, ah! He loves me like a child. If I apply sunscreen, out of nowhere a cloud would come and make sure it pours; i don’t i’ll come back looking more the colour of a kodiak.
I see those Basin City people all around me. All but one… Darn! where’s that Dame to Kill for?
I’m so fuckin sure; someone draws his daily dose of entertainment from my life.

Deconstruction of Identity

A workplace that deconstructs someone’s identity, objectifies it to the level of testifiable markers that can be understood clinically.
A thinker who refuses objectification, refuses to be equated, to be cut down to the size of Mediocres.
Not really the best of matches.

Kansas City Shuffle

i’m here for one. (Wiki if you dunno what I am referring to)
–
Its a blindfold kick back type of a game
Called the Kansas City Shuffle
Whereas you look left and they fall right
Into the Kansas City Shuffle
Its a they-think you-think you don’t know
Type of Kansas City hustle
Where you take your time
Wait your turn
And hang them up, and out to dry

(indistinct voice)

Its a shakedown switch arrive in town
Type of Kansas City Shuffle
Gotta’ make both sides and let it ride
On the Kansas City Shuffle
Now the tables turned the lessons learned
You’ve gotta earn yourself some trouble
Revenge like this, never sweet-
You’ve got yourself a long ride home

(indistinct voice)

And so it is…

Just like you said it would be…
Just another wasted day, utterly, completely. When i keep wishin I was a “-ano”… or a “Sonny”… Maybe a “Pauli”… Just some fukin Italian American Mobster. When i Wish the whether was as chilly as hell. Maybe i’ve been watching too much Sopranos. And repeating shows of Donnie Brasco on the PC… Going over Good Fellas again and again.
You ever had that feeling when you were really sure that you pretty much detested the thing you wanted the most? And that just about everything falls into this category?
Screw it all. Go watch Lucky Number Slevin. A simpler story told in a sufficiently non-boring simple manner.
Despite low quotient on quite a few factors, incliding a very predictable story, Some simple expressions well put that I ended up liking (not because it was ground breaking, but because it just fits so perfectly on me right now). Like Slevin Let’s just say i’m ‘Tired of being the dog without a day.’

Good Fellas…

I have to be disturbed about this… The narrator of the Scorsese masterpiece knew what he wanted to do ever since he was a kid. I’m 22… and still clueless about what I want to do.

Random Acts of senselessness

When i say (and I often do, to Anna); men are inherently sadistic; this is precisely what I mean. A couple of weeks ago, I was outside this temple and returned to find out my bike’s seat torn. What did the asinine bastard gain out of it? A Sadistic satisfaction at the most? But then i tend to forget that that is probably enough for most out there. However, this is an even more random, senseless and far heineous crime. How sick can one get? Apparently endlessly more…