Tag Archives: fiction


It is Thanksgiving. Extraordinary days require an extraordinary understanding of the world’s strings, and its stitches. Surrounded by an air of deep thoughts, and a mind full of crop circles of worldly challenges, he writes, “The man standing next to me is not going to make it big in life. He is going to end up in a job where he will have to wear a donut costume, stand on the traffic signal, and point travelers towards a whorehouse of food. Unable to feed his family, one day when his 4 year old kid will try to bite into his donut costume thinking that it is real food, he would feel disappointed, simultaneously at himself and his God.

The man behind the ticket-counter of Amtrak buys the first ticket of day for himself, but never travels. He is going to wonder about the fruitlessness of his habit in his days of senility. He is going to look at his boxes full of tickets to places he never visited; Boxes whose worth in his money was thousands of dollars, but for anyone else, it is just trash. He would go out, buy a cheap bottle of wine, drink half of it, and pour other half on the boxes of his unfulfilled ambitions, before burning the whole house down with him.

I am never going to become a writer, and I am never going to have a book in my name. But my state is not going to be as abysmal as the donut man, or the man at counter. So. Happy Thanksgiving! ”

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Delusional, Dilemma and Detritus


Doorknob turns a quarter circle, and my room’s door graceful in its slow sliding movement, opens, gently pushes the wall with its stopper-spring at the end of its movement, revealing a gush of cool breeze into a trash can of sorts, my room. I, immediately turn to greet my visitor but there is nobody. NOBODY!

First time it happened, I assumed it was my roommate who wanted to say something, but then all of sudden, after opening the door, decided that there were more important things in life, so he turned back. I checked with him and as it turned out, he was not at home since morning.

But now, after it has happened for like 100th time in a day, its freakin’ me out!

Called my friend after watching her missed call.
“Hey, sorry, missed your call!”
“What?! I never called you!”

Damn! Shit! Either those shitty transparent centipedes floating in air, have acquired the art of opening doors or as Vonnegut would have said, those chemicals in my brain are messing up with me. I am delusional.

(Thanks to Debbiee for this post. Had it not been for her room’s partly haunted, partly straight-out-of-‘Hitchhiker’s.., and partly ‘on-crack’ door, this particular anecdote would not have existed, or at the very least, not existed in this space time coordinate of this temporally stationed spatial archipelago of universes.)


I am gently pulling out one petal at a time from the whorl of chimeric pink-red colored rose, reciting these words after each action; ‘Should I join Twitter..should I not…should I..should I not….’

I am listening to an album called ‘Beautiful Garbage’. Among the fast punches that I am receiving on my eardrum, with the fluids in my brain experiencing tremors, I am noting down names of hypothetical albums on my yellow notepad.
Rhythmic Cacophony
Alluring Drudgery
Delightful Detritus
Winsome Turds _________ (can’t think of an alternative name now! Ha ha)
Snails in Hyperdrive (that’s my favorite)
Aesthetic Genocide (that’s gonna be so damn controversial)

Seriously though, I have a headache after listening to songs like ‘Androgyny’ and ‘Shut your mouth’ (ironical huh!) by the band ‘Garbage’.

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