Doing the right thing is so damn hard at times. So damn hard.

***

Played guitar after so long at a friends place last week. Can't believe how rusty I've become. But they loved it all the same. Goldilocks called my little performance a 'treasure'. Nobody's ever called it that before, but come to think of it music is one of the most precious gifts I have. Without it I'd pretty much be dead.

Not sure how many of you been watching the The Stage on Colors Infinity. Amazing how much vocal talent there is in our country. If only we could write them songs. Last season it was Soundarya and Kamakshi who had me captivated and now it's Sharvi and Aishwarya. Sharvi is wonderful and I'm pretty sure she's gonna win it, but Aishwarya, she's the dark horse. Problem is she's not the girl for every song, which is what the contest seems to be looking for. But when she's in her element, she can rip the pants off anybody. Like when she sang Birdy's Skinny Love. Birdy's been a favourite of mine for a long time now, but with her rendition of Skinny Love I dare say Aishwarya kicked her ass!   

***

Seeing Chelsea send United to the cleaners this evening was good fun. People ask me who I support and I say nobody. I've been watching English football since the late 80's way before cable TV popularized the European leagues here, so I find it a little weird when people tell me they're Chelsea or United supporters. Because when I ask them why, why United and not say Crystal Palace (which back in the day were a pretty solid team), they usually don't have a very good answer. Which is why I reckon Leicester City's success last season left many so called 'supporters' of the bigger clubs in something of a quandary: should we stick with them or proclaim our support for the Foxes? And more importantly, what do we do with the Chelsea and United jerseys now! 

 
Skinny Love by Aishwarya Suresh. You're a star, girl!

In my view he is the greatest songwriter of our generation. And long after he is gone he will be remembered as the greatest songwriter that ever lived. Because his songs are more than just songs - his songs are anthems that have left a mark on the lives of millions. Whether he deserves the Nobel Prize for literature I really can't say given my limited knowledge of literature, however if the Nobel Committee were hard-pressed to find somebody more worthy, I'd say they chose one hell of an  alternative!      

***

I love the BBC radio mobile app. For one it's got me listening to the World Service again, something I would do for hours on my dad's shortwave radio when I was a kid. And surprisingly it's still pretty much the same: I always marveled at how they'd go to all corners of the earth bringing you stories and giving you insights into stuff you'd never have known otherwise. Sadly it's also the same in how much killing and destruction and desperation there is prevalent around the world. Thirty years and so little has changed. What are we as a race doing to ourselves?

And tomorrow the rest of us will go back to our jobs, to toil away like ants. As if there is nothing in the world that can harm us or cut our lives short. When in fact there is danger lurking all around, above and beneath, inside and out. Such stupid little creatures we are.

***

There is a girl I want to fall in love with. I see her at work every day. And she sees me. And somehow I get the feeling she's thinking the exact same thing I am: What's the point?             

To fall in love with you. Bob Dylan. The one and only.

I'm willing to bet Donny Trump woke up late one morning after a heavy night of partying, groping and all the things he loves to do and said to some bimbo in the room, -- Hell, that was fun! But I wanna do something REALLY crazy. What do you reckon, honey? And she after putting her mind to it for a second went, -- Maybe you should run for President!

The next thing you know some of the more knowledgeable staff were summoned and asked: Who do we have running for President in 2016? And the answers would have been Hillary and a bunch of other geezers nobody knows. And then Donny must have thought to himself: You know what, this could be just like that time in sixth grade when I stuck my finger in Bethany's birthday cake right before she could blow out the candles! Hell, that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna stick my finger in Hillary's goddamn cake!

Donald Trump doesn't want to be President. Simply because when you have everything a man could possibly want without being accountable to the people, you'd have to be a complete nut head to go and put yourself out there. And a nut head he most certainly is not. No Sirree! All he wants to do is turn the race for the most powerful office in the world into one very big joke. Or in his case a series of little jokes, from building a wall to keep the Mexicans out, to refusing entry to Muslims, to Obama's birth certificate, and most recently about the nasty things he likes to do to the ladies. 

Funny thing is Trump is not the only one laughing. A lot of people are. While a lot of others are getting mad. Which is usually what happens when you make a joke that isn't politically correct. And Donny sure as hell ain't no politician!  

***

Big Presidential debate tonight. Too late for us unfortunately. But if I were living in a friendlier time zone, I'd call the boys over and pop a few drinks while letting Donny provide the entertainment. He hasn't said anything about the Indians, I wonder why. Maybe he's saving the best for last. Let's wait and see.      

Peace, love and surprise endings!

I hate bludy dentists. Because they rarely have good news to give you. If fact it's almost like they exist only to give you bad news. It's so horribly depressing when after six months of brushing three times a day and flossing and treating your teeth like they were the bludy crown jewels, he takes a look inside your mouth for exactly ten seconds and goes, oh ... ohh ... not good. And you're like, tell me fucker, what is it!?!     

But he will take his time. With that stupid little mouth mirror of his. When was your last visit? Without waiting for you to answer, he will swivel his chair around to look at your dental record, as if it doesn't matter if your last visit was yesterday. 

Err ... about six months back, you stutter, disappointed. But still he won't break it to you. Then slowly, the first blow. You will need at least three appointments. Followed by the knock out punch. Four fillings and one root canal ... maybe two!        

At that point it's almost like they suppress a loud bwahahahahahaha!! While you go, nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!

But there's nothing you can do. Except maybe make a sad face and hope he will give you a discount!   

***

GAP opened its first store in the city yesterday. The desi edition somehow does not seem worth the money. And as far as the jeans are concerned, they seem to have not taken into account one very important fact about us Indians: If we're paying 5 grand for a pair of jeans, we need to say it loud! One little tab on the behind that says '1969' will not simply cut it. I even saw one bloke looking at the label and wondering what the hell 1969 was. Perhaps the only thing that would have made a difference is if it was the year of his birth. That would have been okay.   

Conversely you have some brands that take it a bit too far. Ever seen those broad underwear waistbands with the brand name on it? I don't get that. I guess it started with Calvin Klein but theirs don't look so bad. It's quite a sight though when you see a guy bending to tie his shoelaces only to get a glimpse of his dirty grey or dark orange knickers with CHROMOZOME in bold! Yuck! Something like this. 

I buy mine from M&S. Yes, you didn't need to know that. The women's lingerie section at M&S looks like one big candy store, doesn't it? Yeah, I seen some very happy wimmen prancing about in there!    

***

Check out Putumayo World Music if you got nothing else to do this Sunday. Found it when I started looking for Colombian music on YouTube after a marathon session of watching Narcos. I tell you in the next life I want to be born South American! Hijo de puta is what I will call my dentist!

The music of Colombia. Great stuff!      

The Barcelona Gipsy Klezmer Orchestra plays in the background as I type this at a half past midnight. Music that I find completely tantalizing. The underplayed energy of vocalist Sandra Sangiao along with the magnificence of Robindro Nikolic on clarinet is a treat to the ears. 

***

Something I've come to realize this year is how seriously messed up so many of the people I know are. Not that I hate them for it or love them any less, but it has made me retreat more and more into my state of lonerliness. Yes, that's a word  I coined for myself. To describe someone who at the end of the day realizes he's happiest being a loner but misses the company all the same.   

But how do people get so messed up? Is it that they just don't know what the hell they want in life, or are they simply that impatient to get whatever it is they do want, they end up in a very bad place. A place difficult to get out of or away from.  

***

The years have hardened me I think. Because I am turning into that person who can sympathize with another but at the same time just doesn't care. You dig your grave you lie in it, as my father used to tell us. It is not my job to get you out of it or to breathe life into you. Because honestly I'm having a hard enough time staying alive myself.

Does that make me a bad person? Maybe it does. Or maybe I am just a little messed up myself. 

***

To keep playing the same record I usually do, I don't know how January and February turned into bludy October. Another year nearly wrapped up. Once again with reused wrapping paper.  

Djelem djelem.