Vox Imports


Do you know where you'll go when you leave? I know I'll see you again on the ocean floor, our earth washed by the sea. And we'll each be broken by a lifetime on the shore, and we'll be older than we seem. 

I am the wailing winter rain. Mourning for our dream.

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Vox Imports

I, Sherlock.

I was thinking about my old guitar Eddie yesterday, which made me remember the spiders. I wonder where they are now. I know you feel lost, dear reader, and so I will go on and tell about The Spiders.

Well, my old Granada (which was called Eddie and which I sold because my hands were not big enough for it) had spiders in it. Actually I only ever saw one spider, but I KNOW there was a whole family in it, AND I knew it BEFORE I saw the spider too. Call me Sherlock. No actually don’t its the sort of name you get ragged for having. But I did read the Complete Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes when I was a kid, and I think (even if I may say so myself) that my brain, with its superior IQ (132 according to facebook so ha!) couldn’t help but pick up a few tips from Holmes. Just a side-effect of being smart.

And now for The Mystery Of The Recurring Web And Who Made It.

Evidence of The Spider

Well, everytime I used to take Eddie out of his case there used to be a web-thread in the hole of the sound box. And I’m quite an observant person, so I noticed.  Everytime I saw it there I used to break it and say tsk tsk. (And then I used to play, alternating between soft and loud, in order to confuse The Spider.)

The Spider

Turns out I was right after all, cos this one time I was playing some Incubus, a Spider (an astonishingly industrious one too- it was making a web WHILE I was playing) came crawling out to the A-string. I waited till he was out in the open, then scooped him out with a plec and sent him scuttling out of the window and felt a little bit triumphant. Loser. Sigh.

The Family

So now you know about The Spider And How I Got Rid Of It. So you will assume, as I did, that the web-thread wouldn’t return. But it did.
Which only goes to show that it wasn’t just One Spider in my guitar, but a whole Spider Family.

Elementary, dear Watson.

PS: I also found a web-thread once in my new guitar Eddie (and no, its not the only name I can think of, my ipod is called Mojo Jojo if you must know). So I thought the Spider Family found its way back to me. Pretty sweet of them, plus spiders ARE quite cute; so I tried not to upset them with loud music. But turns out they just wanted to party, cos they went away. So much for being considerate. Next time you see a spider I suggest you just squish it and don’t worry about its comfort and all that.

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Vox Imports


Hello all. I've been thinking about everything that really matters to me (not people, lets not go there) and heres the list I came up with:

My Guitar
My Ipod
Jazz (Toni Morisson)
Other Random Things I've Read
Finding Something To Put Up On This Blog Everyday

Okay so I don't care about too much so big deal. Atleast I'm not lying. (Notice how all the lies are striked out) Now look at my list again. Read through it (striked out stuff too, cos its fun and I just noticed that button) Notice that *calculates*… uh.. 50% of the stuff I care about is music related. So I thought that maybe I should think about why I care so much about music. And if you care too, maybe you should think about it as well, cos anyway your reading a random blog right now which only proves that you have nothing better to do. And if you don't care, then well. Nevermind. I'm not judging you, but Nikhil is. (He really is, even if you don't know who the fuck he is.)

So heres some possible reasons:


Fuck it. I dont know why it does. If you're bored enough to write some pseudo strike the chord in your soul crap, then congratulations, you just replaced me as Second Most Bored Person in The Continent Of Asia Minus China (Chinese people don't get bored anymore cos of Tibet and the Olympics and everything. Think about it.) The First Most Bored Person, fyi, is a Very Brave Person in a little village in Afghanistan. More fun trivia on this blog some other time, and I'll go eat some thing now. Ta!

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Vox Imports


There's a place between sleep and sleep where things go in the time before they fade away. And stay. Like wide awake dreams that only haunt you while you try to forget. Things that shimmer sadly. Like an unshut eye drowned in a sea that stares at you till it sinks down to the ocean floor. Like dreams that get in the way of living that you kill to simply survive that make you squirm in their stench when they lie pale and purpling in the sun. While you step over them and know somewhere that this was the price you paid when you tried to forget what you'd give anything to remember now. Like a turned-in hand. Like a drunken dream. Like the taste of water in your mouth..and three songs you'll never play again.

Maybe you'll look back someday and catch a glimpse of me on the tail end of a memory. Of how I used to be. Maybe it will be a Tuesday and maybe the thought will make you smile.


There's things you write just once and never again. Like songs. Like pale naked truth. 
Like this.



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Uh oh

Hello again. A new day calls for a customary new blog post (unless its the weekend or a national holiday)

Note: I was going to say BANK holiday instead of NATIONAL holiday, but backspaced cos people could get confused and think I'm a teller in a bank or something. Wouldn't wanna mislead anyone. But then again, maybe if I was an eyebrow-threader in a beauty parlour I wouldn't have minded the deception that much… Point being I got a cool job and now you know it. So much for subtlety.

So anyway, about my customary new post. You see, I really DID have something in mind, but I digressed too much and now I forgot what it was. So I'll start with some other random thing. *changes title of post*. There.

Other Random Thing: I've been calculating, and I know now that I'm exactly 19 years, 5 months, and 16 days old.(Fun Activity For Probably Bored Readers: Calculate again and tell me when my birthday is, and I'll give you a cookie. And if you're smarter than you look- I'M WATCHING YOU- you'll just go check the date on orkut or facebook or something)
But stick with me. There's a point. I swear. Just gimme a minute to make it up.

Point: I've spent a lot of my life sleeping. Of course, sleep patterns change as you grow older.. you sleep lesser and stuff. Also you try to make sure your mouth is not hanging open and you're not drooling or making dirty noises or farting in your sleep. Little kids, on the other hand, can be ugly as hell when they sleep and people will still find them cute. Please make sure you're not an ugly sleeper..it could break up your marriage. Someday when I'm rich and jobless or feeling industrious or else merely losing my marbles, I'll start a sleeping-beauty parlour of some sort where you can train people to sleep in strait-jackets with their mouths clamped shut.

Actual Point: I don't sleep much anymore and I'm hoping I never become an insomniac but right now I'm not bored enough to elucidate.

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Theory # __


Theory number x. The only one I intend to discuss here, too. Because I have been thinking, now, about the choices that we make. The choices that we are forced to make. And the time we spend making them. Thinking again a thousand times so we know for sure that we won't regret tomorrow the things we do today. So we don't regret tomorrow all the things we never did. And what if, at the end of a lifetime of shaping our own destinies, in the minutes before we die, its all that we did not choose that flashes before our eyes? What if the last thing you see is everything you gave up? The violin bow buried under cuff-links and ties, the child you let die, the girl you did not pick. And you learn that you spent all your life crawling towards nothing but an end, that you gave up everything you needed on the way to what you thought was home. That it wasn't home. That what will wipe the smile off your face is not death, but life itself.


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