Monthly Archives: October 2013

“Hey, I love my wife, but she ain’t no Pizza!”

Well, wouldn’t you agree that the ‘love for food’ is the purest form of love known to man?

It’s unconditional. Well, unless you order Mashed Potatoes. That’s just insipid.

It’s loves you back. Maybe it shows a lot more love on your hips and tummy, still.

It demands nothing. A pinch of salt occasionally.

You can learn how to love it better with any recipe book.

It feels sinfully delicious at midnight.

Having someone else’s food feels equally good, and guess what? No regrets.

It’s the easiest way to define happiness.

I am leaving this post in between, because my love beckons me and I need to make a quick trip to the refrigerator.

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Consider yourself lucky. God uses MS Word too!

He wrote your destiny and gave you the word .doc in a folder called life. You can choose to open that file and make as many changes as you want. First, start with the font; God is old school and he uses Times New Roman. Font shall represent your tone of life. Would it be classy or funky, meaningful or cool, disciplined or rebellion.

Then change the font size. Punjabis by default would choose 25 and above. I am happy writing my destiny in a humble 14 (shut up you Arial Narrow 10 pt snooty bastards, I want to be heard).

While changing your destiny, don’t be afraid of that green underline that indicates a grammatical error. It’s your life and you don’t have to adhere to some predefined rules to be happy. But do rectify those red underlines, which basically represent the wrong choices we make; be it letters or people.

Avoid writing long paragraphs, it shows stagnation. Feel free to write a few long sentences though, we all want some moments of our lives to last a little longer.

Make it short, snappy, long, stupid, funny, happy, sad, dramatic, romantic, hopelessly romantic, enigmatic or legen-wait for it-dary. But make it complete, as some wise man on the internet once said YOLO.

P.S.: Retain some of the original text. It’s God’s work after all.

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I am a part time writer and a full time escapist.

Why is it so tough to put pen to paper, to find the so called ever illusive “inspiration”. To write for oneself, they say it is the best practice, but sometimes to practice it is a test itself. Writer’s block snowballs into frustration, it’s like a pending to-do list that haunts you in your moments of blankness. Sorry if you find this ranting of mine a little bizarre, but I think I needed this bit of self bashing, and apparently 140 characters on Twitter wasn’t enough. I have been hiding behind sitcom marathons, making excuses of tight deadlines and exhausting briefs, waiting for some unusually funny idea to strike, all the possible reasons to not write anything at all.

This self-imposed sabbatical is eating me from within. This confession is inspired by mediocrity that I have started to embrace and the habit of procrastination. Tell me. Do you face such moments of despair? Such a long phase of blank pages and full ink cartridges. Do your fingers twitch, but you don’t know how to channelise the anxiety? Do you feel the sheer resentment? Do you feel obnoxiously jealous of thinkers who word their ideas, much better and more frequently than you can ever imagine?

I am sure you do. I am trying to combat my demons with this confession. What about you?

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