Prosecutors Shall Be Trespassed.

Would I wish to be known by a sobriquet (the good type) or a pre cursor in my eulogy, down the line, a potent social being who was very much involved in activities that everyone seems to be involved with? Would I want a street, toilet, website etc dedicated? Am I really one to work that hard or do something worth a mention such that it does get public attention? In 21 years of foolish existence, I have already ensured I will not get a nickname preceded by Honest, Happy, Fun, Cool, Rockin' etc. Not because I could not had I wished so, but I am more or less, already better off. This non eloquent touch to everyday life, eccentric thoughts that pulsate my mind and take a heavier toll than reading Selected Readings and the same which torture this endless realm of fortunate couplets dosed within an ethereal surface called 'self'. I do not violate legal guidelines so far as they do not have an issue with me. There is no real anger to vent, no such purpose...

Real Life 101. It is Wednesday, known popularly in my life as the 'middle day' of the week as it ought to be so. I am settled on the second floor of a building nestled next to a traffic signal which circumscribes the road more famously referred to as the 3rd largest 'red light' region in Mumbai. I am very serious, not that I have much to do with anything I have said thus far. In a city, where every mosquito bite before sleep seems like an attack of malaria, dengue or chikungunya. Where surface tension eases the past tense in current terms. I wish this was American Beauty (refer to second or third last post on page) and I was playing a vital role and screaming "this is the first day of the rest of my life." Unfortunately, I am not even remotely close to the more than one hundred enthusiastic people I see everyday at this gory reminder called NMIMS, people doing something or the other. Running from floor to floor, networking, making notes while reading a newspaper (the 4th most retarded thing ever), and taking part in whatever is happening, without acknowledging the reality that they cannot make tails or heads out of it. Where does this energy come from? Is this the joy they potentially rip off from this whole monotonous exercise of 'pinning the donkey's tail' and pseudo prententious involvement enough to suffice the whole purpose of this institution called MBA. I am as confused as a BCG person when he first read the GE matrix. (I admit in a post below that I suck at analogies, so shut the fuck up).

I heard Snape is dead. Good for you, HP7 fans. I am glad if the fact that Rowling may not write another is true. Why should she want more? She has had more than her share of attention, considering the utter garbage that she managed to garner and distribute over the past decade onto bookshelfs. Does she really need more money? I mean, honestly, who the fuck is she making a fool out of anyway, little kids without a clue? Whats this whole deal with "kids are back to reading with the new book" and the media taking note of how this whole phenomenon has kids taking time off cyber sex and focusing on finishing this horrendous piece of fantasy literature called something followed by deathly hallows. Does not anyone realize that this hype has had the little children of 2007 doing a quick read for around 20 hours all of this year to finish one book and then getting back to typical life. I may not and may never have a valid point to criticize the book with, but this whole drama is creating hazards that make normal life unsubstantial.
Did I miss the bus?