fin 2016: pt. I

(this one’s the explicit post, pt. I; it’s literally every crazy-random thought that’s crossed my head as I write xD)

  1. I could really use some Matty Healy-Jaden Smith fanfic right now (ugh I’ve had a draft on The Get-Down for months now but things aren’t the smoothest and I’ve wayy too much schoolwork I haven’t even begun *crai*)
  2. chocolate. any kind, really. my tongue, throat and tummy are in-prostrate for chocolate. they have been for like three days now. odd, indeed. I understand that chocolate and cheese (which I’ve had wayy too much of this past week you won’t believe it 😂)
  3. More Ben Affleck and Robin Williams :/ (I have downloaded The Accountant might get around to that sometime. Unfortunately Live By Night’s M18 and I’m only 16 :P)
  4. A restart of the year, maybe? 😂 Only to relive and not rectify, I promise xD (this too deserves a post of its own)

*status update*: TheMonarchOfMidnight


The featured image: Literally how I reassure myself *crai*

It’s been about eight months and twelve days since I began TMoM and I

could have should have

posted alot more in my opening days; I’d have gotten a fair few followers and views .

Let’s be blunt; I should be posting alot more nowadays as well but I do try to write on a daily basis and I’ve like twenty-one drafts running xD

Uhm well yeah, I guess: This far in and I’m stuck with three followers, one of whom is myself 😂

I’m being very honest though; when I say that I’m not in this for the views or followers or fame or aesthetic or like, CAS points (IB shit) or college cred.


This is my.. Hmm..

A manifestation of myself.

A mirror but a telescope at the same time. 🙂


Cher Mme. De Beauvoir №2: unsalted fries

(Second post in this series aha 🙂 )
(Clarification on what this series even is: coming soon)

setting: McDonalds at the locality’s primary public transit and social hub; the mall closest to school which also happens to be adjoined to the rapid-transit train station and bus stop that eventually everyone has to use. Effectively; its quirky, peculiar top-to-bottom layout – with the ground floor being the bus interchange and the mall decking the levels beneath and the train station at an elevation from the streets – are where you can find (at theoretically any given time) almost every student from our school (or so it feels xD).


*at the cashier*

“large fries, please. Unsalted, thank you.”

“dude what? Unsalted?! Man you’re Indian; how do you do without salt?”

“my condolences, bro.” , “Yo you whut?” , “Never I’m digging desalination.”

*pull at Ben’s shoulders so he’s facing her*
“ignore them, just answer me; is this one of those life hacks to get fresh, hot fries?”

“no, it’s just, just..”

“just what?”

*echoes laced with sniggering*
“what is it, man?”

“of course, the fact that this way; they’re fresher and hotter is a welcome bonus but I actually go for unsalted fries because I’ll be dipping them in my essence (the salt at my core perhaps deserves a separate post xD) before I swallow them anyway ;)”


(Oh My Gosh I don’t know what this is ._.” Bear with me xD I am trying to write regularly though so I may come up with some absolute BS often soz)



Oh. My. Fucking. God.

(At this point I’d like to add how you shall very appreciably witness an inglorious event; I’m ranting about ranting. charming.)

I’m cringing so much right now. (How much am I going to disgust myself this month; that’s such a commonplace, small-talk thing to say oh gosh)

Yeah um I’ll just persevere to complete this post without succumbing to include any of those ^ anymore. *sharp, determined exhale*

Okay so nearly every blog out there (Okay fine, not every but a heck of a lot) is
predominantly a rant database; a microphone for giphydistress.

Blogging Norm, it hath become.

And every single time someone complains or anything
similar these days, what ensues does not do without a mention of the word, “rant“.

Right so um

Basically; it bothers me. I just inherently don’t take to the word ‘rant’ all that much.

I find myself repeating this maxim of mine increasingly wearisome, but I will continue to if the situation calls for it *sigh*:

Every word and every phrase, has its purpose, has its place.

*groans* Ohh-ah this post has been an absolutely unnecessary and an all-too-badly justified rant about rants.

Revolting. Absolutely Revolting.

crass repetitive perversity

(this didn’t start off a but it just transfigured itself into one in the process of writing eh well xD)

During exercise, a muscle is stretched and strained and taut and tight and degenerated and what not.

Especially in cases subject to strenuosity.

The common, tried-and-tested go-to method for effective muscle recovery after strenuous muscle exertion we’ve got

Is Cold.


Cold Press, Hot Press

Sure there’s warmth in heat packs and all that.

But none of those are applied for the purpose of recovery.

Only for relief. Up next; the slats.


Now the heart is a muscle.

Going cold after your heart’s been rippled or ripped is equivocally discouraged, of course.


But that’s only because the inherent human pursuit of happiness

Or rather; a pursuit of a paucity of negativity

Has convinced our vain species that

Warmth is the only plausible eventuality.


Let go of love and forget looking forward

Because that undermines all your recuperation.

Us soup boys;

Symbols-Ambassadors of the Southern Tamil Nation.


Bent, Clawed

Beaten, Flooredtumblr-love-36

Trashed, Slashed

Crashed, Gashed.


One thing unites us;

It’s this induced, justified misogyny

And a heart gone bust.


But even smokers keep going

Although they know they’re their own agents of killing.


(I have absolutely got to add that the premise of this post – as it popped into my steamy jet of rumination under a hot shower – immensely surprised me; perhaps beyond anything else this entire calendar year. Why? Because I’m no misogynist nor someone who dis-advocates love despite his celibacy backed by reason and heavy thought. I may never want to ever fall in love but I sure do keep that to myself – usually. I’ll add that the whole recovery, HotCold thing may come from the fact that my very injury-prone muscles and a couple of ice baths were put to the test following my school’s Annual Sports Meet a week ago)

Cher Mme. De Beauvoir №1: *throwing shade*

(really quick intro: this’ll be the first part of a series that really, could be endless. I’m excited, it’s an intriguing concept on my part xD There’ll be another post explaining what this is all about; the title, the characters, etc. AHH LEGGO )

“they say you can strike a conversation with anyone?”


“they say you’re like… really knowledgeable as well as super-extroverted? I’ve heard you know how every genre and echelon of groups works?”

*tilts head in acknowledgement* *signature half-smile creeps*
“mm yea I’d like to think so”

“they say you can strike a conversation with absolutely anyone?”


“apparently you’re a really really nice guy? sweet-boi kinda.”

*goes red* *manages to keep signature half-smile going though*

“What, is it true you don’t throw shade? What kind of teenager are you man?”

*chuckles elegantly*
“I don’t like to; I don’t see the point. perhaps I just construe social darwinism differently”

“In that case; I’ve a challenge for you.”

*eyes widen* *smirks*
“you sound very determi-“

“Shut up, look”

*looking intently, patiently*
“I’m looki-“

“You could fit in every group and club, you’re super-sweet (aka you should -theoretically- fit in anywhere), you don’t like to bitch about people.”
“Let’s see you fit in with a bunch of classist bitchy (air-quotes) ‘cool kids’, huh? How’d you reckon your reputation’d take that?”

*half-smile* *twinkling eyes*
“I’d sit with them and bitch about ’em, of course”
*smirks and gets to his feet with a flourish*
*walks away and doesn’t look back*