Of blog-posts and mere men.
Blogger's Block. That's all I can come up with.
Then this wonderful friend of mine, considerate as he is (and endowed with lots happening in his life to 'show and tell', or so his blogging spree reveals), posts me ultimatums yelling out "Post or Die!" and " what a shameful waste of web-space", yada yada. Not being a fan of Eichmannian, Machiavellian or American-ian strong arm tactics, I decided to ignore those. But it's been a while and I just cannot come up with anything that could reinforce the established aims of spreading general banality and non- joie de vivre, that this blog's set out to achieve.
A written repository of my life in general, with no word further from the truth, expounding ideals of Anarchical Democracy and Socialist Totalitarianism, not to mention fervent attempts at putrid and dubious oxymorons and long sentences, it was supposed to be. Weather reports too. But it's this inability to come up an iota of an idea to make up my next blog-post-which-would-exemplify-tripe, that's gnawing at my conscience.
Excruciating!
Kyunki-Saas-Bhi-Kabhi-Bahu-Thi*-excruciating.
I did know for a fact that I can be diabolically dumb at times and have not quite acquired any of my family traits , well, except one - that of drinking and emptying Maggi Ketchup bottles in nano-seconds flat (one which still earns us our undying infamy in the annals of history. Check out the next edition of the CBSE Class IX 'Moral Science' text book for more details). But for once, I feel like a complete, comprehensive, total, consummate Jack-ass. How can one ever not have anything to write about!?
Nope. Every confounded Tomdictionary can write about something. Pushkin. Carthage. Dolly Parton's Memories (pun intended). Laloo Prasad Yadav. Or Deepika Pallickal, perhaps? It's all there!!
Why-can't-I?
The ans'r, my friend, is blowin' in the wind. The ans'r's blowin' in the wind.
Sure.......................bollocks!!
*KSBKBT is a tear jerking, gut wrenching, insufferable Indian TV Soap Opera from the Balaji Studios, aired at Prime-Time. (ever since my friend Bullshee started the trend, I presume, rather conveniently and immodestly, an International readership for my tome and keep my fingers crossed at the prospect of appearing on the Interpol lists for disseminating blasphemy, slander and general mental torture).
ps: Technically, this should count as a post. The ramifications of this non-creative effort, I shall discern from the comments of my reading junta, if any (that would be me and my dog 'Paulose').
pps: I shudder at the thought of having to write the next post on the blog. I have evaded this one by subterfuge, as you can see. Hence, I hope that the next time you stumble on this blog, you would be fed on tripe by this Ghost-writer that I'm hiring. He works in the Balaji Studios as a Script-writer for the time being. That way, I can be assured of a humongously long life for my blog and a never-ending spate of ideas (recyclable or otherwise) to impress upon hapless readers. :)
posted by thebanalsprite @ 5:45 AM
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