IRIN de SADE











{November 14, 2009}   My customised shortcut to hell.

So here are the many ways I can get to Hell within a three hour period.

I would be dead if I drunk-

1. 12 glasses of rose wine.

2.12 glasses of red wine.

3.12 bottles of Budweiser budvar budvar.

4. 12 shots of scotch. (12 is clearly getting to be the mode!!)

5.12 shots of Gin. (whatcha tellya?)

6. 10 shots of Vodka. (probably decease faster but…hmm…maybe not..)

7. 10 shots of tequila. (O_o…..)

8. 10 shots of rum. (Now you’re talking…Happy rumming to Hell and back!!)

9.8  Bloody Marys. (Nah..dont want a messy trip…)

10. 12 Daiquiris..(aaand we’re back!)

11. 11 Margaritas..(I swear I didn’t do the number alliteration on purpose!)

12. 12 Kamikazes (yay…)

So people clearly 12 is my lucky number to hell….just wondering whether I can use combinations of these drinks..hmm..eh?

Disclaimer: This is to calculate death propensity on the basis of weight and gender and a three hour drinking period ONLY if you’re planning on going to Hell afterwards,NOT Heaven. Those trips are not supported by this shortcut.

Terms and conditions apply.

Copyright@drunkentraveller.



{November 8, 2009}   I wish I were…

The following are a few things that I have wanted to be in life and just being who I am got in the way of these shelved ambitions. I guess this is the only place that these will ever see light..even though it be of a slightly electrical nature..

1.I wish I were an artist, a painter…well that’s what I used to wish for with all my heart when I was young. To be able to paint so well and with such passion that Van Gogh would blush in shame. I wished to have my own exhibition with my paintings appreciated and hung out for posterity. So I painted and I reflected and time passed and the colors faded,the brushes grew bristle,the world grew older,reality intruded and the unpainted paintings wept in solitude.

2.I wish I were a music director…that’s my next passion. Music. It’s my salvation, my stick when I’m limping,my faithful dog when I’m blind,my tissue when I cry,my friend when I’m down,my expression when I’m dumb. So I wanted to devote my paltry life to its amelioration. I resolved to compose music that would add to the rich alcoves where fellow wanderers drifted in search of peace. But yet again being born where I was music was not an option..at best it could be a companion not an ambition. So my unwritten songs joined the paintings in haunting the recesses of my fallow mind.

3. I wish I were a writer….She writes in beauty,she writes in fame,she writes in fantasy and distressed dames, she writes in love,she writes in faith. Her ramblings fill the sparkling skies,her words spill from pouring eyes, her wings spread wide-she stands poised to fly. Unfortunately I suffered a serious case of verigo and jetlag and decided to stay on terrafirma. Hence the secret words wait in silence to be imprisoned in ink and published in papyrus.

4. I wish I were a dancer…The girl goes dancing there
On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
Escaped from bitter youth,
Escaped out of her crowd,
Or out of her black cloud.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer!

Her toes have stopped twirling,

Her shoes are torn and frayed,

Her body has stopped feeling-

the happy rhythms of  songs played.




So I’m really tired and really bogged down with like loads of stuff to do..study I mean…thats the “loads” I’m talking about here and I have to hear lectures about brand names of labs!!! Thought I’d outgrown those when I was wearing cheap hogmarket stuff and the rest of the world was wearing Lee or Pepe..those were the painful days…so I hate brand names..NOT sour grapes I promise..this is totally neutral hating..(check out the use of oxymoron..nice hmm?)

But looks like high tech science labs can come up equipped with brand names too.!!!!  Yippeee!! YAYEEE!!!! Life is made!!! OOOhhhh!!!…okk you get the general picture of how a grad student is supposed to react to the aforesaid labeled lab. Think of how a slumdog-pauperionnaire would react to a Gucci dress…

So I got this Holier-than-thou lecture on how I should be kissing their holy rear ends because they had accepted me into their hallowed be thy Holy Holy Moley Ignatius lab..the brand name I was told would make my life. Look good on my CV. Get me into an even more highly hallowed holier-than-them lab!!!! So I was told to brush my teeth and stock up on mouthwash ’cause I was gonna hav’ to start a lot of kissing soon!!

So then the guy went on to say that it was a rich lab and how I should be grateful pathetically that it was rich and I needn’t place any limits on my thinking because hey they weren’t slumdogs..

If I was a rich girl (na, na….)
See, I’d have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy girl
No man could test me, impress me, my cash flow would never ever end
Cause I’d have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy girl…naaaanaanaaa

Nice song..liked the pirates of caribbean feel…haha..

So notice how the central theme of what scientists are supposed to do and be is kind of forgotten legend. I mean ohh yeah we’re working for “humanity” and “cures” and “we care so we do”  and a lot of other stuff that has come down to getting brand named labs and hotshot publications…

So what if the rest of the world is waiting for a cure..they don’t understand what we do anyway..just tell them its complicated and more time consuming..and build your own career..Get that Gucci label on your CV. Oh and for this you need to work haaarddd…..

The trick to sounding harsh and intimidating while talking mildly is all in the intonation. All you have to do is get the right Evil Dead expression and the correct zombie voice form Thriller…put ’em together and wham!!…you’ve got scary “wo-o-o-rk H-aa-aa-aard!!!” repeat the words a few times and you’ve got The Haunting sequel right inside lab. Add the spice of a pin drop silent atmosphere,automatons moving around, a wicked witch of the West supervising you and you’ll be set for Blairwitch project II. In technicolor!!! The only saving grace is the advisor himself who is sort of a shy sweetheart who actually seems harrowed at so many vultures picking at HIS award. Sigh…so no go..I tried..and failed…I’m not hard asssed or sacrificial enough to want to waste 5 precious years in a morgue..0oops..lab..this sad…so I’m going back to my previous hippie beer toting advisor..yayy!!

Dust to dust ,ashes to ashes..



{October 29, 2009}   While my guitar gently weeps…

guitar

 

 

 

My legacy

 

Woke up this morning, from the wrong side of the bed,

The usual fresh morning looked so surreal instead.

Rushing out now it’s a new day at school-Planning ways to break yet another rule.

I’ll never let my teachers shake my sway-

I’ll never let my dreams slip and slide away.

 

So would you believe that I’m growing up now?

Would you believe that I manage somehow?

 

Looking back now we’ve made lots of green,

Though we never got to be the real dancing queen-

Scared I’ve got my hands in too many pies,

Hoping to just let sleeping dogs lie

I’ll never let the winters cave me in-I’ll never let life get under my skin.

 

So would you believe that my dreams have changed?

Would you believe that my heart’s in flames?

 

So fate looks on with eyes of pity.

As I still drain the last dregs of sanity,

So you may leave me, but I’ll still go on,

Singing myself a sad old song;

I’ll never give the devil my soul for free

I’ll never let the sun go down on me.

 

So would you believe that my life is tough?

Would you believe that I’ve finally grown up?

igethigh psych2

 

 

 

My ode

 

Hello Mr Moon,

The day is nigh,

The night is old,

Your story is told-Now rest you feet awhile.

 

Hello my friend-

The world is yet to end.

For long years now-

You must go around,

In you light the weary shall mend.

 

Hail thee, so bright so cold,

Your light does freeze my very soul,

Your halo burns any icy flame

Adorns the sky, so proud, so vain-

As slowly your many faces wane.

 

Hail thee, my hope, my prayer,

Who with the stars, the skies doth share

Who races with the fading dusk,

Basking in the little child’s trust-Given up to your tender care.

 

Hail thee, so white, so alone,

A reigning queen carved in stone.

Your starry kingdom bows to you as you travel all night through

Watching, waiting in silent repose.

 

 

My raga

 

When the leaves play gently on the harp of the wind;

When the rain sounds gaily on the chords within,

When the woodpecker beats a steady drum roll,

When the wind whistles on pipes-notes-untold-

Merging and blending a melody unfolds.

 

When the brooks gurgle through many a chord

When the fish chime in of their own accord

When the bird sing out a merry soprano,

When the snow falls in matching allegro-The symphony plays, filled with pathos-

Hark! The clouds thunder in mighty applause.

purple haze

 

 

 

 

 

 

My illusion

 

Sleep on sweet child-Lest they steal your sunshine;

Lest your cradle slips and falls

Lest the heathen world doth call-Forth fears that do not subside.

 

Dream on sweet child-For the colours within are safe and sound

For the colours without would only get you down

For the spring inside shall last through winters outside-

And preserve the little smile so proud.

final fant3

Sleep on sweet child-

The havens are lost and gone

The silver spoon doth shine no more,

The baffled seas hath no shore-

The fantasies have all come undone.

Dream on sweet child-

Lest they squeeze tears from your eyes

Lest they throw your faith to the winds

Lest the world to you does sing-

And wakes you from the tender sleep so kind.

 

My stolen

 

Time goes by without a sound,

Days of watching the sun go down

Crying into the empty nights profound-

Come morning wearily moving ahead.

Swearing to finally forgive and forget.

Dreaming all night of those promises so true-

Every dream still reminds me of you.

 

Life goes by, no shape no form,                                                          final fant2

Gazing at the perfect sky so toen

Nursing hearts so sick and lovelorn.

Treaidng the same old paths so tried

Searching for your flickering light.

Humming every day those songs so new-

Every song still reminds me of you.

 

Age goes by, and I’m still here,

Playing hide and seek with the grim reaper

Alone in a crowd, infirm yet proud,

Waiting for life to come undone

The hero inside as yet unsung.

Thinking of those golden moments so few-

Every moment still reminds me of you.

final fant4

 

 

 



et cetera