a bite of truth

 "People have been convinced that without some new clothes, a vehicle that hasn’t been washed yet, without going to someone’s home or being visited by someone, or by comparing all of these with others, they are not worthy of celebrating Dussehra. But it’s not about any of these—it’s about killing envy, the state of being envious, and the evilness of the mind."

                            *  నీ బండి ఐతే కడిగినవ్ మరి నీ సంగతేంటి.                            ** హమ్మయ్య నా బండి అయితే కడిగేసినా,  నా పాపాలు అన్ని పోయినట్టే,  ఇగ అన్ని బండ్లు ఒక్క దగ్గర పెట్టి,  పూల మాలలు ఏసి, ఒక ఫోటో తీసి,  స్టేటస్ పెట్టేస్తే, అన్ని అయినట్టే.  

  "at night, i think of death. during the day, i think of sex. and in between, i live."

 "One of the fellows said that my sketches weren’t even worth 100 rupees. And I said, 'That’s not my sketches, you fool… it’s your damn face that isn’t worth even 100.'"

 "These days, one can’t be happy unless they make a video of themselves being happy, edit it with some stunning effects, and have a few people watch it."

 “When I was in school, my math teacher beat the shit out of me for failing to memorize some formulas. And yet, after all these years of teaching, he might never have used even a simple formula like the circumference of a circle in his entire life.”

 “Out of all my teachers, from school to engineering, only one knows that I am a writer and an artist. The rest will never let the others know. And even if they did, they would never read my books or look at my sketches and watercolors—and still love them.”

Someone really said this: You are just a fool. You can create, yet you are alone. You love women who hate you. You respect women who don’t deserve it. You favor those who don’t even care about you, who don’t even think about you. You are just a stinking piece of shit flowing in a river of piss — a piece just to keep some people entertained.

  It’s a mystery to me how women avoid me so easily. I hardly know half of half a dozen, yet somehow they seem to hate me.

 Sometimes people worry more about me than I worry about myself. They worry about when the fuck I’m going to get married—like, seriously, you don’t even have a daughter. And even if you did, she’d probably want to be fucked by some rich white guy with jet-black hair and an eight-pack. They worry about when the fuck I’m going to shave my beard. When the fuck I’m going to wear new clothes. When the fuck I’m going to buy expensive shoes.

 Someone asked me, “Being this old, how come you’re not pissed off about not getting married or having zero interactions with women?” And I said, “The credit goes to post-nut clarity. What? Besides, what can a woman offer that you haven’t already been searching for your whole life? You think there’s someone special out there who’s going to save your ass? People don’t really want to be happy—they want to suffer. Suffering brings them attention. I’ve just decided to be happy. But sometimes it feels like you need a woman—you want to fuck her brains out. But yes, every time you feel like getting married, you just nut, and it hits you again and again.”

  At an event, I was spotted by this rich, fat, healthy woman who said, "Why did you come in these filthy clothes?" Me, being in my late 20s, having acquired some skills, my patience, my progress, my thoughts, my endurance — all of this just simply being judged by a 300-rupee T-shirt and 600-rupee joggers. Sometimes it feels good that I am being saved by these outfits.

 "How come you are not depressed, bro?" Well, you see— I have headaches, insomnia, low blood sugar, I cry over women not talking to me, I'm easily misunderstood, they don't like my beard, nobody talks— even if someone talks, for them I'm a vexatious babbler. If I don't masturbate, I get thoughts to kill a couple, and even if I do, all of my energy is sucked. I drink, I cry over a bitch, I don't have enough time to do all the works which I'm supposed to do, and moreover, my pelvic girdle and coccyx are hurting more than ever, and my belly is getting big and big, can't breathe properly, my neck hurts— and I have got all of these, and even more is that my homeopathic doctor stresses me over her variety of round white pills— a count of 4 to 5 to be taken exactly 40 minutes after eating— and she doesn't want me to drink any water for 30 minutes after taking those hard white pills, and it causes me more stress, and that's the reason exactly I don...

  Waking up early, you have to face humanity early. Like you give creeps to all the others you meet. You go to a tiffin centre and he's like, "Laude ganiki em pani ledu, poddunne nannu savadenguthundu." He won't be happy unless you offer him something. Like, you offer him some sort of help, and he offers you some advice—life advice. You have to keep a confused face until he finishes his advice, and then your face has to glow up after he completes it. Then he can be happy. And every man has to face this, and only some realise the utter waste of  it.

 "Whenever I ride or drive, my mind doesn’t think of anything except death. Not all the time — but always when I see a bridge, it flashes: this is going to collapse. Or when a 15-ton truck thunders past, carrying extra weight: yes, this might hit me, and my head would be a dosa — without the chutney. Or maybe I’ll get dizzy from low sugar. Or maybe I’ll be listening to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony — the second movement — and go crazy and drive off a hill. See, anything that has to happen, will happen. But not acting according to that — that’s the real sin. And yet, knowing all this won’t stop me from writing this down. These are the thoughts I have about death."

  "The Little Things I’ve Gone Crazy Over" I have never gone crazy about big things— like crying over a bitch, or wanting to kiss the beloved, or masturbating seven times in a day, or being depressed over a 9-to-7 job, my belly getting some fat, or losing weight from working night shifts, not having any sleep at all, or drinking too much or too little, or having too much money, or no money at all. But I have gone crazy— over a piece of quality paper, or a 70 mm lead of 0.5 mm thickness in hard black, or a color from my palette getting empty day after day, or losing a few hairs from my mop brushes, or some paint dropping on the floor while I’m setting it in the palette, or my watercolor paper getting too wet. I’ve gone crazy over the little things all the time— and I will never stop loving that little craziness I had and which makes me more and more crazy.

 attended a birthday party.  this old fellow walked towards me and started to talk about the topics which i wasn't interested in.  he asked me, "khali time lo em chesthuntav babu." i said, "item songs chusthu untanandi." silence. that ended there.  note : this is how you scare some people, but it won't work every time.

A fter a long gap, likely two years, started sketching again. I just wanted to fill a sketch book. so I purchased one from amazon and along with them "faber castle pitt black fine liners." all the drawing you will be looking at are sourced from pinterest by various artists, they really helped me improve my skills. the first drawing is of a temple gopuram. I really love the temple architecture. later I bought a book called TEMPLES OF INDIA. while doing this I just drew a vertical line and started to proceed drawing, within an hour I completed this one and everyone loved it, my sister loved it much more than me. now this one I drew without any simplification, after six months of practice I got to know about what simplification was. used compass for this one and the flag pole should have been a little bit long. I used to watch videos of various youtubers about lord jagannath.  just to exercise my fingers and my mind to draw curves, I practiced this one. again lord jagannath, t...

 Went to drink tea alone.  Now he was making lemon tea and a trans woman who was asking for money. Now she turns to look at the person beside her. Boom she was terror struck.  Now she looks at me and says "intha gaddam penchesavu endhira ra babu." Now she grabs my beard and styles it and blesses me and walks away. I never worried what people thought about my appearance.  Now a pregnant woman was feeding her baby just by saying "chudu nuvvu tinakunte ah buchodiki ichestha." Lately this is all i have got something interesting to write. 

 At this moment being with my barber, we both are worried about my beard losing its thickness and my hair fall. I didn't cut my hair for almost 60 days and I can't imagine cheating on him. like I came from Hyderabad to Adilabad just for the sake of haircut. I never can imagine to cheat on him and I wonder how some people cheat on their loved ones. 

click on the title to buy notes of an honest man. a book which isn't a book but a book but a book mona : the rambunctiuos filthy humans

now he called me, and I was there two days later. as soon as I reached his room, I watched everything and there were shoes. new. brand new bacca bucci. gharrebon ki jordans . I opened them and wore the right shoe. damn they were amazing. now after he arrived, he said, "thagudama, tindama." "Chocolate vodka + coco powder in milk, try cheddamma." "endhuku ra neeku e stuntlu." "eh thadudham ra." now he handed me the box and said, "eskoni chudu." now I opened them again and they were once again good, now I felt the inner soft and outer hard. he said, "avvi neekera." now, this was my first gift. silence. sometimes life is good.   I didn't thank him. we never did. we never even took a selfie.

 Playground: A well balanced place for loosing fat and bitching. 

  "Ah gaddam endhuku penchutunnav ra." "Athulu penchukunte kanapadai kada.. andhuke..." Now he was my uncle. He didn't know what to do next.

  note: click on the pictures for better resolution. The story starts from adilabad but nothing exciting happens here so we jump to nagpur where something strange might happen .  My friend works somewhere, until he reaches his room. We gotta reach it. We reached by metro and in the train we stood in the last compartment but it was for ladies and some uncles also sat there but all of them looked at us weirdly, even that bastard uncle's. After eating the wada pav we decided to fuck a whore.  This is crazy. Eating wada pav and seeing random women eat at the same place and suddenly the desire to fuck. The place we get a chance is GANGA JAMUNA. So we went to railway station to start from there. We phoned a friend  who went there and knows marathi. He said that we can't find it on Google so we need to search for a college Instead. We didn't find the college either. So we watched youtube for some solution. And that fellow said "itwari."  So we reached there to confuse ...