My photo

Writer, Father. Entrepreneur. Bum. Atheist. Recluse. Garhwali. Foodie. Downloader. Drifter. In no particular order.


stop press

It's early in the day, when on your drive back home, you are ambushed by surprise. Panicked bubbles flee your lungs as devil's look-alike, the King in Crimson, pulls you under in the wake of Poseidon. It's a soft rumble strip spiked with odd whistles and pan pipes, as a jazz-smoked drum machine gurgles amicably in the background. You just smile.

You sprint up the staircase with murder on your mind. Your enemy- ye olde adipose.

Then you lie on a bed of opium in the arms of Ayn and dream of pussies and kittens.

Another day.