g-rated blues

today, i met with the chance of having to go to my driver's house. it was a dilapidated thatched single-roomed hut and it made me very nervous to go near it. i could say the driver was quite nervous to have me there too. as i was walking to and from the house, i felt the burden of a kubillion hard and cold eyes on me. there was noone to look at me, however. i realise that the world is what you make of it. its hard to tell what makes you, because
you're too much in the middle of being you.
howlin wolves sing deep blue songs to put the moon into a mellow sleep.  
she walks on duty; she walks in plight.
the guitarists rocking the cradled-up night.
pretty-pepper. sweet and poor. potted plants and leaf-edges wasted and burning.
too self-obsessed as a child. mild always, except on the flower bed where the killers are wild, and so are i, and i's eyes, which are glued to her walky talks. fire drill's the cure, babe.

the web, the blog and da mses

hello emptiness. hello electric lands far and near, connected by the spidery world widening web. greetings.
first, to dip our wings a bit, as we're gliding, into history. the most meaningless and pointless of it. the history of my whole strange bloggy life. i found out about blogs as i was taking an e-walk through outer e-space. outer to what's inside the six walls of this awkward thing im sitting in front of, of course. as i was walking, i saw a strange billboard ad, to the left or to the right, it doesnt matter where, about some blog thingy or the other......to be more precise, it was a link that said "exit blog". i thought it sounded neat and meaningless enough to put as my messenger display name...so i did. and when i came back to my e-room, a neighbour asked me what it was, this blog. when i said i didnt have an atom of an idea, he, who seemed to have been very enthusiastic or something, sent me a couple pages from somewhere explaining to me what it was. the thing rested there. a couple of months ago i read something about this whole g-mail commotion. it said something about invites to a mailbox with a giga byte of storage space being offered to some people of which included regular bloggers or something. so i thought i should try my luck. i sat and typed in a couple of e-normous e-bins of e-crap, and created a blog around it. nothing happened with the gmail thing. i guess its only for people who buy blogs or whatever. anyway, i continue to type because i've run out of other things to do in this entirely waste e-land. no one reads these pages, so thus noone comments, so thus as time passes im less and less motivated to get my ass all the way to bloody blogspot from all the way, the other side of the web.....presumably msn considering the clashes they seem to be facing with google. but i hope that once i......if i get famous at some point of time, these pages will be read after all. because there's nothing in it worth for me, so it might as well bug the booger out of some sole else. 
which brings me to da mses. its just this idea that struck me five minutes before the beginning of this page, as i was thinking about 'what to write to fill up blogspots miserable e-shelves, today?'  the idea is a kinda perpetual play with a single scene and setting and three actors who are but three aspects of the same blood-shod-clod of a charecter......ahem.....me, of course. Me, the Imaginary Me, and the Other Me. i'll sleep on it and eat and drink onit till iv got the whole thing figured, so that i can put it to life.....or play, as seems more suitable. and all so that my chubby fingers can exercize and so noone will ever know. sigh......what a guy does for having to do...