Far

I was asleep a minute ago, in my chamber, at the back of the vessel. Oh! Miraculous vessel, the vessel that took me far away, away from the land I so dearly long for. The vessel that took me so far away from home, with no promise to take me back. As I alight from my comfortable nest, I retreat to the only window in the room, so small yet with the biggest meaning; to look for my Earth - my material alpha, my organic omega. It seems strange, even momentarily funny, that I am in the very place I thought Heaven would be. Up. I stare out of the window. I see black. Black, empty nothingness. When I crane my neck, to look at the vessel on a parallel line, I can see the words COLUMBIA printed on it. How bright they shine, though there is no light. How bright they shine, though they are black. Instead of light, all around me, like a castaway at sea with no landscape but water, I look onward to a perpetual night. Oh! Where is my sun ?

----

It seems like yesterday. Just yesterday. It seems like yesterday that I said goodbye to my mother, and told her that I would be back safe. Where was I going ? Far away, in every sense of the phrase. To space, where there is black nothingness. To Mars, where there is blank, empty, cold, nothingness. Oh! How I wish I had never said bye, but stayed on Earth, where the comfort of my mother's embrace is ever near. I promised her I would be back before her Birthday. Oh! But it seems like yesterday, so near, but I can never go back.

----

Our mission to Mars had failed. I was to explore, explore Mars, along with a team. Oh! Wonderful team! Wouldn't it have been better if we had never been a team ? But we were one, and so we had to go to Mars, away from home, my brown, ruffled, doormat. I long for my doormat.

But how could it go wrong ? Everything was checked! The foam was not supposed to come loose, it was not supposed to damage the vessel! But it did. I wish I hadn't said bye, but had stayed on Earth, away from this tangled mess that I am in now. It is more unwanted than a fisherman's birdnest. Where do I go now ? Home. What do I do know ? Wait till I get home. But home is so far away!

----

I am like the weary voyager - the one trudging on. I brave circumstances to reach the place I saw would save me. The place that would make me. Only, I am fighting to go back home. Our technical experts, what experts, were doing everything possible to get back home. Home. Where I belong, and where I long to be. I am trudging on, braving circumstances, to ensure that I have somewhere to be. At least.

----

OH NO!
There is a rope. The rope tugs.
I wish to go back home.
The rope tugs. What is the rope ?
I need to go back home.
The rope is a bridge.
I want my home.
The rope is a bridge to doom.

----

Oh! Magnificent vessel! Must thou falter now ? Is thy purpose to solely transport, but not survive ? Oh! Magnificent vessel! Must thou falter now ?

----

"We are close!" cried one of the technical experts. His voice faltered. I so desperately wanted it to be promising, powerful, dominating, assuring, but it lacked conviction.

"FAITH!" I cried.

We were nearing. I could see the blue-green-white mass that lived. I could see life in this black nothingness. Somewhere, beneath those clouds was my home, was my mother. So close! Home!

"FAITH! FAITH! FAITH!" I cried. "HOME!"

But his voice faltered. As soon as he announced our arrival into the Earth's atmosphere.

"Oh no." It squeaked. His voice was reduced to a squeak. Mouse! A squeaking mouse. Before anything could be asked, there was an explosion. No, not a physical explosion, but one that can be felt. Faith was lost. Hope and trust were lost. And as soon as these were lost, we were encompassed.

----

I look right. Fire.
I look left. Red.
I look outside the window. Down. Fire.
I look up. Amber embers.

We are burning alive.

The rope tugs.

----

Home, oh Home, you have run away from me and I cannot keep up. Doormat, you too, have you also left me forlorn ? Oh, Mother! Hold me and tell me I'm dreaming. Oh Mother, wake me up, don't let me go the way we let Father go. Oh no. Mother, please. Don't let me break my promise.

----

The rope triumphed and it was over.

----

It was over. I returned to where I came from. But before that, I did many things, yes I did.

I breathed a final time.
I blinked a final time.
I looked down at my feet. I would miss my feet. They walked with me when I was alone, ran with me when I wanted to run away.
I let a tear down my cheek. Amongst the fire, there was water.
Candle. I lit it with the fire from my mind.
Imaginary candle.

I sang Happy Birthday to my Mother. I prayed. Prayed that it would reach her.

I prayed.

It was over.
Encompassed.
Black nothingness, now red hot fire.

Now black nothingness again.

----

Oh ! Miraculous vessel, Magnificent vessel, thou hath been devoured.

And from that moment on, for ever, through eternity, the sun stopped burning.
Frozen sun.

-------------------------

*Excuse the random topic, it was meant to be a composition for English Language, but it was too long, so I put it up here. =)

Tokio Hotel

Okay well, for those few of you who haven't heard of the apparently girl-sounding, girl-looking, girly band, Tokio Hotel is NOT a girl-sounding, girl-looking (well, maybe sometimes), girly band. In fact, they're a very, VERY good band. Unique too, I can't find any bands even remotely similar to them. I mean, which band has members that listened Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin at SIX years old ? Which band was formed when they were just 12 ? Which band played gigs in bars and clubs at TWELVE YEARS OLD ? Even if you hate them to the core, you have to admit that that's just plain remarkable. I mean, 18 year old people in bands have problems, and fight, and disband after just months of playing. It takes a lot to be a band: dedication, talent, an inclination towards music, and more. It's just amazing that Tokio Hotel could do all this at just twelve years old.

They recorded and produced their first EP themselves under the band name Devilish. And yes, it was corny, but they were young, everyone's mind worked like that when they were 12. With 7 songs, and 3 of them in English, they were well on their way, composing music and producing it. In 2003, when Bill Kaulitz (the lead singer) was around 13-14, he participated in a competition called "Star Search", which he lost in the quarter finals. However, this competition was aired on TV, and this publicity was just what Tokio Hotel needed. Attracting the attention of producer Peter Hoffmann, who saw potential in this band. Along with a team of producers (David Jost, Dave Roth and Pat Benzner [who have produced bands like The Corrs and Faith Hill]), he set out and put Tokio Hotel in a studio, for recording. There was no doubt that these four had talent, and so, with a new era in their life, they changed their name from Devilish to Tokio Hotel.

Not long after, in fact, in the same year, they were signed with Sony BMG, and recorded their first single, Durch Den Monsun (Through the Monsoon, English version: Monsoon), which after being released in 2005, reached #1 in Germany, and then Austria. Their next single, Schrei (English version: Scream) reached #5, and then they debuted with an album of the same name.

And this is where inspiration comes in. At an average age of 16, they released their first album. An album. An actual album, in the actual market, with actual songs. I would do loads to do that, I mean, being on stage is my dream. Playing music, my entire life. And they did it, at 16. They inspired many, MANY people, who they didn't even know, at 16 years old.

The album, with twelve songs, written by Bill and the producers, went platinum. They later released two more singles, Rette Mich (English version: Rescue Me), and Der Letzte Tag (English version: Final Day). Both of them reached #1.

In 2007, they released another album, Zimmer 483 (Room 483), which ALSO reached #1. The singles from this album, Uebers Ende Der Welt (English version: Ready, Set, Go! [which reached #1]), Spring Nicht (English version: Don't Jump), and An Deiner Seite (Ich Bin Da) (English version: By Your Side), are fantastic songs, with amazing structure and melody. Bill's vocal lines are some of the best I have heard in ages; the lyrics are brilliant too. They then released two English albums, Scream and Room 483. The singles were Monsoon, the English version of their big break, Ready, Set, Go! and By Your Side.

Tokio Hotel received two nominations at the MTV EMAs: Best Band, and InterAct. They won InterAct. At 18 years old. They won an EMA.

At the EMAs, they played their song Monsoon, a stunning performance, with amazing technical assistance and stage antics. It was the best performance that evening, and I'm just not saying it. It's a fact.

Well, I'm sure, by now, you'll be like "Great ! Is the music any good ?" Well, actually, their music is brilliant. It's amazing. If you'd like me to give you a list of songs to download, I will. Actually, I will give you one. It will be long and tiring for you to read, but you can come here whenever you want something to download. People say that Bill sounds like a girl, which is true only to a certain extent. He doesn't sound like a girl, but his voice hadn't cracked on many of their songs, and so, his voice sounds a little babyish. People say Bill looks like a girl, but since when does looks interfere with music ? I don't mind him dressing the way he does at all, he probably has his reasons. And it isn't PROPER girly dressing, it's actually gothicish. He doesn't wear skirts and dresses and tube-tops and stuff like that.

After reading all this, I bet you're wondering what that thing at the top of the post is. Well, here goes. There are a good many fans of Tokio Hotel in Dubai, and I know it. I know it would be amazing if Tokio Hotel could come to Dubai, and we need to show Tokio Hotel that there are people here who do want them to come. It would be amazing, watching the people who inspire you, no longer pixels on a screen, but in front of you. Tokio Hotel has many fans, and this would make those fans' dreams come true. And you can make them come true, all you have to do is one small little thing. All you have to do is click on the "Demand it!" and follow through with the instructions provided, and you'll be helping a whole lot. Please do so, it would make so many people happy. Even if you don't like them, do it for us =P We'll be grateful, really. Thank you.

The list of songs. Okay, some songs have an English version, and some don't. However, all their German songs are on YouTube, with subtitles. I'm not entirely sure of which songs are available in English, but I'll give you a list with the best of what I know. The bold letters are the titles, and the other stuff is just information. Enjoy !

1. Schrei - (Tr: Scream) English version: Scream *
2. Durch Den Monsun - (Tr: Through the Monsoon) English version: Monsoon *
3. Leb die Sekunde - (Tr: Live the Second) English version: Live Every Second *
4. Rette Mich - (Tr: Rescue Me) English version: Rescue Me *
5. Freunde Bleiben - (Tr: Stay Friends) English version unavailable. *
6. Ich bin nicht Ich - (Tr: I am not Me) English version unavailable. *
7. Jung und Nicht Mehr Jugendfrei - (Tr: Young and No More Youth-Approved) English version unavailable. *
8. Der Letzte Tag - (Tr: The Final Day) English version: Final Day *
9. Unendlichkeit - (Tr: Eternity) English version unavailable.
10. Beichte - (Tr: Confessions) English version unavaiable. *
11. Schwarz - (Tr: Black) English version: Black
12. Frei Im Freien Fall - (Tr: Freely in Free Fall) English version unavailable. *
13. Hilf mir Fliegen - (Tr: Help me Fly) English version unavailable. *
14. 1000 Meere - (Tr: 1000 Seas) English version unavailable. *
15. Geh - (Tr: Go) English version unavailable.
16. Uebers Ende Der Welt - (Tr: After the End of the World) English version: Ready, Set, Go! *
17. Totgeliebt - (Tr: Dead Love) English version: Love is Dead *
18. Spring Nicht - (Tr: Don't Jump) English version: Don't Jump *
19. Heilig - (Tr: Sacred) English version: Sacred
20. Wo Sind Eure Hande - (Tr: Where are your Hands?) English version: Raise your Hands *
21. Stich Ins Gluck - (Tr: Stab in Luck) English version: On the Edge
22. Ich Brech Aus - (Tr: I Break Away) English version: Break Away *
23. Reden - (Tr: Talk) English version unavailable. *
24. Vergessene Kinder - (Tr: Forgotten Children) English version: Forgotten Children *
25. An Deiner Seite (Ich bin Da) - (Tr: By Your Side (I'm there)) English version: By Your Side *
26. In Die Nacht - (Tr: In the Night) English version unavailable. *

* Songs you MUST get.

Once you get these songs, and begin to like Tokio Hotel, as I'm sure you will, make sure you get an album or two of theirs. Tokio Hotel are a band that aspire to grow, and make more dreams come true. They need your support. And plus, it'll be authentic material for you to keep. Trust me, the albums are amazing, and if mine ever got lost, I wouldn't stay happy with the songs I have, I'd go out and buy those albums again. I mean, I got my Schrei album, and my Zimmer 483 album from FRANCE ! And I live in Dubai !! =P Either way, search and you will find =)

Phew, that was tiring but fun. Enjoy !! =D

P.S. If the gadget at the top doesn't work, http://eventful.com/performers/P0-001-000005048-4/demand

The Curtain Falls

December 21st, 2007. Happy Birthday Mom.
December 21st, 2007. Almost 10 days to 2008.

2007. What can I say ? So much has happened ! It seems so unrealistic. Sometimes I wonder how it all went by, so fast. It doesn't even feel like it's ending, it feels like there's something big waiting for me. And I don't think I can say goodbye to 2007, maybe I won't have to. I've grown to like so many things, forget so many things, recall so many things, miss so many things, make terrible mistakes, do amazing things, I recorded my first song in 2007. Schmizel played its first gig in 2007. I didn't sleep at night for the first time in 2007. Desert Rock - 2007. I've made so many great, amazing, wonderful, angelic friends. I have had to say goodbye to quite a few too. I will say goodbye to quite a few too. Things have grown within me, things I have lost have been found. Things I have found have been lost, and lots of other things have begun. When I begin to think of how much has happened this year, I am lost in nostalgia. There is a whole web of events, linking themselves to each other, and I wonder. If something hadn't happened, something so small. Like the SKARDENS. If that hadn't happened, no Schmizel. Like this, there are many things that I am so lucky to have.

I don't think it is right to continue, to recall EVERY single moment in 2007 as of now, it hasn't ended. There are still almost 10 days left, and as far as I know, 10 days is a long time. Mistakes can be corrected, promises can be made. I will make a list of events and the smallest things soon, but not today. Today, I study.

If I can.

10 days left. Then 365.25 days are gone.

Personal message: "It'll all be okay" - anon. Well, that anon is a very integral part of my life, and that anon hasn't said it to me yet, but I'm going to try and believe it.

Breeze

There are approximately 85 candles, arranged not so neatly in wooden rows. They are indoors, but a window, distant, yet dangerous, is open. It is far away, you can't see it, but it is open. There is a breeze blowing. It is cold and hard, it is like an ice-dagger. It is sharp, and it can cut through flesh, it can rip existence apart. It is cold.

A man, in a brown waistcoat, is in a rush. He wears a black top hat, a tie, shirt and pant, he is in a rush. He will miss an important meeting unless he hurries. He hurries. He brushes past the candles, he doesn't notice them, or how important they are, he just walks by, and it is tragic. 7 candles are blown out. His waistcoat brought about a gust of wind, and it extinguished seven candles. Seven flames are reduced to ashes and wax.

78 candles left burning, not too bad. They are burning away. Here and there, the wick of a few candles is reduced to wisps, and the candles are wasted. But that doesn't stop the others from burning. No, they burn on with full vigour, some flames reaching tremendous heights, some just embers, like babies, like thoughts that long to be turned into actions. The big, monstrous flames are dangerous. Very, and one was so intense that it burnt the entire candle, and a few around it too. Slowly, the candles grew weary of burning, and they just would not, just would not any longer.

61 candles. They are strong. They are not strong enough. A gentle breeze sifts through the air, a disturbance of some sort, to some extent a predator, to some extent a blessing. The man who so unknowingly killed a few candles is relieved, the breeze brushing his face, he will be on time. The candles on the wooden shelves, burning here and there, were a plinth for their dancing flames. The breeze was not satisfied. It blew its way to the candle stand, and waited there, until the fear of the candles was sensed. Then, it blew across the entire right side of the shelf, extinguishing all those candles, including a few in the centre and centre-bottom-left. Murderer.

28 candles. Scared, but they are the strongest of the lot. What dangers awaited them ? They did not know, we do not know. We shall soon find out. The window, the menacing, grim, grinning window. The rascal. It widens its mouth, bares its teeth, and blows with all its might. A purple wind blows through the window. Oh, and it is not an opaque purple, so we cannot see it; it is transparent. It blows through the window, the menacing, grim, grinning window, straight to our candles, and tugs, it does not blow, no, it tugs away their light. The candles fight.

The candles fight, the flames they dance in a defensive mode, they dodge the wind, the wind lunges for an attack but misses. The candles are brave. However, they are not so brave as to withstand the might of the wind. It blows, and one by one, the candles succumb. Not all, no.

There is one, on the top left corner, it is glowing bright, it overcame its battle with the wind. It glows brighter than all the candles put together, yet it is not bright enough. The night is dark.

----

A kindly man walks by, and he sees the burning candle, the sole survivor. He wonders what he can do with it, and he wonders why it is the only one shining. He doesn't receive an answer, however, he decides to do something. He picks up the candle, the sole survivor, and places it gently, taps each other candle twice on the wick, and leaves.

He re-lit all the other candles, with the one glowing ember. The battle has been won.

The night is light. The night is bright. It is illuminated. The room is elucidated.

One candle, just one, burned on.

Animusic

Okay Siddhesh came over and made me listen to this thing. And watch. And its mindblowing. And its so DAMN creative. And Wayne Lytle and David Crognale (the creators) have SO much talent. You should watch these:

Resonant Chamber (My Personal Favorite)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=l1hqF9nqabQ&feature=related

Future Retro (Most Catchy)
http://youtube.com/watch?v=fd3LwxCzuGY&feature=related

Acoustic Curves
http://youtube.com/watch?v=cCGvbZdCVFE&feature=related

If you notice, the mechanical arms are playing the exact notes a proper instrumentalist would play. Which means the creators knew how to play ALL those instruments, perfectly. Also, they composed all those songs themselves. Half of the most recognized bands in the world can't come close to these masterpieces. I mean, just look at the precision, the melody, the talent. Seriously, this thing is mindblowing. There are many more, I'll leave them to be discovered by you yourself. And enjoy, I'm sure you will.

Alexithymia

Apart from that glimmering hope, there is nothing there that I could possibly see would determine my happiness. That hope, and that Faith, and that dream. Who can tell what tomorrow will bring ? Who can tell if tomorrow will come ? But I see it in your eyes... all the answers. No, not in person. No, I'm too scared.

There are so many things I want to tell you. But I can't, you see. I'm already at the end of the world. The edge. There are songs I want to sing. There is music I want to make. There are many skies above me. I will cross them all to get to you. There is distance, and there are thorns. There is time, and there is void. My void is not empty anymore. I can see you. You're there, in my mind. There is colour around me. There is passion within me. And there is a fusion of hope, and dreams, and answers, that I seek.

There is only time. I can't say what I want to say. The tunnel is narrowing. You're so far away from me. I doubt the distance will ever get reduced.. I wish. But I've given up on most of my wishes.. they're discarded.

Il fait froid. Je faut aller mais je ne veux rien sauf des temps avec vous. Il est vider. Il fait froid.

Silent Partner

I am walking alone. It is difficult.

The sun is cold. The moon is cold. I am cold. It is summer but I am cold.

There is one image in my head, and I cannot get it out, and I do not want to get it out, and I won't get it out. It is the most beautiful image. I don't feel okay.

There is a furore in my mind, a revolt. Always, I am wrong. I have no space.

I am walking alone. There's someone there with me, but I am alone. You are with me, yet you are not near me.

You will always be with me.

I am walking alone. It is difficult. Alone I await the storm.

You will always be with me.

Alone I await the storm.

I am walking alone.

Durch die Unendlichkeit.

Farthest Apart.

I want you to read this one day. Perhaps, I want you to want to read this someday. But you would never know how, or that this even existed. Maybe this didn't really exist.

*----*

I am a man who waits a lot.
I wait for you.
Don't wait for me.

Sometimes, I say things I don't want to.
Those times, those times I hope, I hope that you can really hear what I want to say.
It's like I speak a different language.
A language of opposites.
I'm okay. I'm not okay.

Don't wait for me. Wait for me.

Sometimes I wish the image I see in the looking glass was clay.
To mould it into what would fit your heart.
There is a thread and it will break.
The thread of my sanity.

Can you feel the famine raging in my heart ?
The roar of denial, splitting asunder my very own hope ?
And then I, like the fool you see, put the pieces back together.
Can you see my riven wish ?

What more must I give ? I'll give with just enough room for a spontaneous second thought.
There is care I wish from you.
There is care. That I wish you'd give.

This is no language of opposites. I have hidden it away like I hide away the words that I wish to convey but don't matter; this is a language of truth: I wish for some acceptance. Some capsule of belonging, some collision of beliefs.

Wait. What is this I see ?

A splintered destination. Awaiting me.

Love (English Language Assessment)

Love is an emotion. It is an emotion, a cocktail of feelings, bittersweet, hard, melancholic, and yet it is the best thing that ever happened to this world that we inhabit. Unfortunately, our world is love deprived.

Love is the only thing that is worth remembering. Of all the emotions that have been bestowed upon us, it is the one with the most impediments, the most boulders, blocking the road to achievement. It is one, and the only one, that teaches us to forgive, respect, be benevolent, and most of all, to live.

For it is by loving that we truly live.

There is nothing quite like love, for it imposes upon us periods of melancholy, and periods of paramount ecstasy, and at the end of it all, we learn, and we grow, from love.

But there is no end, when love is always beginning.

Love is the teacher. And love teaches us, by way of reality, that there is no limit imposed on goodness.

I fell in love. And every time I talk to her, I respect her all over again, more than I did before. There is a tidal wave of satisfaction, when you learn to respect. Love teaches you to gaze upon the incandescent light that is emitted from each one of us. It is through love that we see the invisible.

Love teaches us to be strong. It is the ultimate test of strength. Love comes in a very deadly disguise; love wears this disguise not seldom. Love puts on its veil, a veil that scorches the heart and soul. It is called unrequited love.

Unrequited love can kill. It is love that can not be returned. Thus, the irony of perfection. It is an equation that always sums up to pain, to agony, to desparity, to distress, to hope.

Love teaches us to hope.

And this is the greatest gift of love. It comes, free of any price, and puts a star in a blank sky. The stars in the sky are a guiding light. They symbolize hope.

They instil in you a longing, that maybe the heart's tortured song will be heard, and when it is, its love will be returned. It is then, in that person's eyes, that the stars shine brightest, an incandescent light, illuminating the path around the impediments, the stones, balancing the equations, destroying the depression, the sorrow, and filling the deepest, darkest gorges of the heart. For it is by loving that we truly live.

Unfortunately, in this world, the world that we inhabit, love died a long time ago.

However, love's greatest gift is hope. And I fell in love.

There is hope yet.

Faceless

I am an invisible man.

I have dreams, and hopes, and wishes, just like any other. But I am not ordinary, no; I am invisible. I can't see myself; the images I see are contorted and distorted and blurry and hoary. I awoke in a grave. I planted my own tombstone in the rich soil that would have been my bed. I awoke into a reality without reason, an existence without care. I am a blind, invisible man. I am mute, I am silent. No-one can see me, but I am there. I am the man with a bleeding heart. I am the man without a face.

I am the man without a face.

I am the blind, invisible man, but I am watching you. I can see you though I don't have eyes. I am right there. I am the wisp of smoke that you kick up when you walk. I am the wind that rustles your hair. Open your eyes, focus your sight, can't you see the invisible man? Can't you see me?

I am the fear that you feel at night, with the lights off, and the curtains closed. I am the incandescent light that shines through your window in the morning. Can you see me now? The man without a face? I'm watching you. Can you see me now? The man without a face? I'm watching you.

It is me who opens those creaking doors while you're asleep. I am the whistling in the wind. It is my breath that freezes your spine. I am the shadow that you think had moved. I am the footsteps in the quiet. I am the man without a face, without eyes. Can you see me now? I'm right beside you.

Oh, how I long to see, to breathe, to speak again! I wish I were you. No, I must be who I am, and yet I am nothing at all. I am no-one. I am fighting a war within myself. A civil war: Nightmares versus dreams. And the nightmares are winning. I do not know where I'm supposed to be. Am I supposed to go somewhere? There has to be some reason for my blindness. For my invisibility.

I was once ordinary, like you, a person, a person who could see more than just darkness. I used to go to the forest before, the trees were my refuge; I, the seeker. I can't find it anymore. Is it gone? Or am I gone?

The forest has to be there, somewhere. My memories still are, so it can't be gone, right? I remember the clearing; I used to sit there with you. In the stillness of the glade, under the pale reflection of the moonlight. Don't you remember? You said you loved me too.

Then, I was destroyed. In the forest. My forest. You were there. Don't you remember? Something made me this pallet of emptiness. Don't you remember? Come, come with me, to the forest. Help me find it. Please.

Hear me now. Look at me now. Can't you feel me? Can't you hear the whistling? Can't you see the dust from your feet? It's cold, isn't it? You can feel my icy fingertips, can't you? You can see the trees bowing down to me. My trees. I'm right behind you. Don't look around. I'm calling your name, though I'm not speaking. Can't you hear it in the wind?

Stop. Turn around. Look at me. You can see your shadow dancing, can't you? Come, follow me, I have found the forest. I can feel the leaves. I can feel the scent of the mud, so familiar. Don't you remember? Come, come to the clearing. I wish to show you something. Come, come. This is the spot we first met, remember? I was playing hide and seek and I got lost. Then, you found me. But this is not the thing I want to show you, no, no, come follow me.

Can't you hear the wind growing stronger? Can't you feel it getting colder? Can't you see the gathering dust? Can't you feel the icy fingers? Now, open your eyes, properly. Open them. Now.

-------

This is my home. Tell me what you see. Can't see? Better yet, I'll tell you. There are more of me. Look around, you can see, I can't. Look, there are thousands. I am not the only one. Didn't you feel it getting colder? There were more fingers holding on to you. Didn't you feel the wind getting louder? There were more calling out your name. Can you hear me now? Can you see me now? I know you can. For you have become just like me. We have played and lost. You and I have become the epitome of childhood fears. We have become the very thing we fought. You will soon know what it feels like to be me. We are ghosts.

Welcome, welcome, welcome. We are the invisible people. We cannot see, we cannot hear, we cannot speak.

We are faceless. This cadence is your disaster.

Chapter I

Illusions.

The smart man said that it is well-advised to begin a story at the start. The wise man said that it isn't foolish to begin a story at the end.

However, I am neither smart, nor am I wise (and between the two lies a great difference), so I will set off on my journey; it is a journey because I don't know where I am going, and I don't know what impediments are scattered on the path, what clouds shield the sun, what rain hampers the trek, I do not know them. So I will set off on my journey, from the middle.

The middle, as I would like to imagine, is not always the easiest part, neither is it the toughest, nor is it in between. In fact, I am only imagining the middle, for it has not yet begun. I do not know when it will begin, nor do I know when it will begin to end, but I do know that it will begin someday. I am not exactly looking forward to that day. But I am not looking forward to remain where I am.

Indeed, I am in a very sticky situation, and I don't even know where the right path is. It is a series of roads that loom before me, I can see each one of them so clearly, but when I look at all of them, I see a big mess. Some roads are snowed in, some roads are clear, some roads are uneven, some have a gentle slope. But all the roads are somehow tangled up, some lead into another, and those lead to a dead end. It is all very confusing, a very sticky situation. Such is the path of life.

There is a barrier in front of me. I have to pass it to walk onto the first road. I have already crossed a few roads, they are behind me now. But the memories of them are vivid in my memory, they are there, imprinted, just like great people leave their footsteps behind after they move on. Except this is vague. The memories are there, but I can't seem to draw them out. It's like a disfunctional well.

Let me tell you where I am. There is a barrier in front of me. Let me tell you what the barrier is. I don't know how it got there. But I can guess. I'm not so sure of what it is, either. But let me tell you what I think it is. It is an illusion. I swear I can see through it sometimes. I swear, but other times, it just blocks everything out. It makes insignificant things seem important. Things like what I should be doing and where I should be going. When I do those things, this illusion blocks out what really matters.

I do not know how to get past this barrier. This is my failure.

I made a choice. I used to have so many things and I let go of them, disregarding their true worth. I was too blind to see. I was blinded by illusions, different from these. And I made a choice. I would hold on to what mattered.

At the stage I am at, there is a barrier in front of me. It is no spectacle, it is a shameful thing. You see, there is something. And I want to hold on to it.

I want to hold on to it.

This illusion makes everything so slippery. It's like, I can't remember how I should be feeling, I can't remember what emotions should be drifting through me. I mean, I know what I should be feeling. But I don't know why, or how, but it's gone. I mean, it isn't gone, it's there. But I can't feel it. I mean, I can, but not as much as I should, not as often as I should, as I did.

You see, I am a man, and disaster struck when I was a boy.

I am breaking down this barrier. It will make everything much better. I will take the first road, I will take the second road. But first, I have to break down this barrier, this monstrous illusion.

For you see, disaster struck when I was a boy.

And I miss me.

Thoughts

Here I am.

Peculiarly, I am not where I imagined I would be. It is dark. I am stuck. I am wedged between two walls. My nose pressed against one, my back against the the other. I am standing on a platform of sorts, a pedestal. I am unable to move, because the plinth is microscopic, big enough to only support my two feet.

There are whooshing sounds, like a man frantically swiping the curtains open to see the sun.

On either side of the footstall, there is space. Oddly enough, neither the base nor the walls are supported by anything.

If I move, I fall.

Due to my uncomfortable restrictions, I am forced to think.

My first thought?

"Damn, I'm cramping up."

It didn't help. So, I began to think. Properly.

The first thought, that classified as a thought, that came to me was that I had wasted a lot of time. On petty things. On insignificant things. On material things. On superficial things. Time deserves to be spent on other things. Things that mattered. I will stop saying 'things'.

It hadn't occurred to me, that what did matter, came for free. I had everything that I should have wished for. I had spotted the tiny errors without seeing how beautiful the actual painting was. I replaced what I didn't have, with what I could get; not knowing that it could never be substituted.

Let me put it in the form of an example. A simple one. I wanted water. I drank mud.

The thing that bothered me most was, I did not know what I wanted.

Now I do. They are things that are invisible, but can be seen. They emit a glowing light. You know what it is when you have them.

Love. Respect. Family. Peace. Hope. Joy. Religion.

I have named a few, but there are many, many more. I am not in a position to list. I am a human sandwich.

Thought number two: What was I doing here?

Was I really anywhere? I was probably dreaming a silly old dream, lying in my bed, oblivious to what was happening around me. Did I really need to be anywhere? After all, I only had a few things left to hope for. My life was a concotion of good and bad. "Just like everyone else's", I said to myself. But I knew that I wasliving for something, a few things, maybe.

The thought that followed: Where did I want to be?

The immediate reply. It came without a second's hesitation. "Out of here".

However, I knew that was not where I wanted to be. I wanted to be somewhere, where I knew my presence would be felt. And I knew there was only one road that I had, that would take me there.

Music.

As soon as I thought that, a parallel road was elucidated. It was there all along. Righteousness.

It dawned upon me. And as it did, the sun in the place I was in also ascended.

There was no success without good.

Thought number four: I know what I want to be. I know where I want to be.

I want to give kindness. I want to show everyone the right path. I want to make the world a better place. I want this love to go on forever. I want to be on stage, and spread the right message through music. I want to teach people.

But first, I would have to learn.

And then, the walls fell. I could move. A road was illuminated, it was tempting. But I did not take it.

I fell.

I knew I made the right decision.

I knew I made the right decision, because, the next day, I awoke in my bed.

I got on my feet, and set out to change the world.

Look at me.

"She stood apart from moral interests, yet close beside them, like a ghost that revisits the familiar fireside and can no longer make itself seen or felt, no more smile with the household joy, nor mourn with the kindred sorrow; or, should it succeed in manifesting its forbidden sympathy, awakening only terror and horrible repugnance."

There are times when I feel like a ghost.

I don't entirely know, but a little part somewhere in my soul, or mind, pokes me with that dreaded sense of invisibility. Or maybe it is an embedded part of reality, maybe I really am invisible; invisible to someone.

How do I know if I can be seen? What if all I'm hearing, hearing you speak, seeing you speak, what if that's all just a mere art of illusion, what if all I'm seeing is actually what I'm imagining, not really existing at all?

What if I wish to be seen. What if you can't see me? What if I'm really a ghost, an old memory, faded out of the material world, now only a lingering spirit, seeing only tantalizing memories, which are decepting mirages of the truth? What if the truth is really a bland cocktail of matters that I don't know of? What if those matters don't concern me at all? Am I really gone? Or am I still here, as tangible as you?

Or has tangibility died too?

Can you really see me? Do you even know who I am? Am I just a ghost?

Ghosts scare people. Do I scare you? Do you get provoked by my sudden interference, my sudden confessions, my unrealistic statements? Do I make you run away? Am I just a disappearing act, coming and going when I please, vanishing leaving you baffled, baffled and confused, confused, dazed and mystified?

Am I really there?

Can you really hear me? Can you read what I'm writing? Or is it all futile, am I imagining you replying? Do I really know what you're really saying? Or is it just a dream playing in my head?

Do you know what I feel? Do I feel at all? Is there really me? Or am I some disembodied spirit, just watching you, wishing, and waiting?

The Untitled Song

There are times when words don't mean anything except what they look like, just little strings of black twisted into shapes, illegible to the heart because it is not the language it speaks. There are times when all the heart longs for is a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes to hold on to what it really can understand. But even then, even in one of the few times it can long for something to hope for, a bitter, burning wave, just engulfs it in denial. Nothing is for free. No love, no hope, no dream comes without a cost of pain. It is then that the heart screams in agony, but no-one can hear it. It is not the language they speak.

That's when the heart longs to cry, but all that's left in the shallow pool of reality is dry, dry skin. When you open your mouth to speak, your speech is silence. No-one understands that, except the heart you are longing for. Again, that never comes without a price, and more often than not, it doesn't come at all.

----

I wish she would look for me the way I look for her. I wish she would smile when she happen to see me, the way I smile when I see her. Except the smile isn't really a smile at all. It's an illusion that pain creates.

----

The heart is a very vital organ of the body.

When the heart longs for something, and holds it so dearly, but doesn't get it, it begins to experience pain. Therefore, it is natural, that the mind and soul get affected by the pain the heart feels. There is no way the heart can get rid of that pain, no-one understands what it is trying to say. No-one except for what it longs for.

And nothing comes without a price. More often than not, it doesn't come at all.

----

I wish she would search for love songs, the way I search for love songs. I wish she would think of me at night, the way I cry myself to sleep thinking of her.

----

While the heart screams in pain, at the irony of perfection, that nothing perfect could ever be gained, no-one can hear it, because no-one can understand what it is saying. However much it screams, it shouts, crying to be heard, to be understood, no-one ever listens. So it sings a silent song, its song the only true melody in the world. What a shame, that no-one can hear it, to be inspired.

----

I wish she would miss me the way I miss her, every second I don't speak to her. I wish she would feel jealous every time someone called me the way I do when it happens to her. I wish she would want to be with me when others are, the way I do. I wish she would see my face behind every window, behind every door, the way I see hers.

----

I wish her heart would sing the same untitled song mine would, so that finally, it would know that someone can understand it. The sense of relief that would calm it, to let it know someone was listening to its screams, its beckonings that no-one would listen to. I wish she would notice me the way I notice her. I wish she would look in the crowd for me, the way I look for her. I wish she would feel the way I feel for her.

I wish she would love me the way I love her.

But nothing comes without a price. More often than not, it doesn't come at all.

Colours describe emotions. And it is the best way to convey our feelings without saying a word.

It was a long day, I, waking up very early to make it to my morning summer camp, Insportz, for four hours of sports. Naturally, upon returning home, I was tired, and aching from cramps and muscle pulls all over my body. I wasn't in a very good mood. I didn't know that was all about to change a few hours later.

I glanced at my SFS schedule, and noticed that today was an outing, to The Jam Jar.

Realising that if I was to make it on time, I would have to leave earlier, I hurried my lunch and shower and got ready to leave.

When I reached The Jam Jar, the bus with all the children had just arrived, and I noticed the expressions on all their faces. They were beaming with happiness, they were looking forward to this day.

As we entered, we were given instructions from the authorities, and very silently followed them. We were told of the plastic containers we would use as palettes, the brushes of assorted sizes, and the three rows of acrylic paints we were entitled to use.

We were given descriptions of what the children wanted to paint, their imaginations exceeding ours, and we continuously flocked to the supplies to make sure the children had a variety of colours to choose from. As we watched the children patiently, gently answering their doubts, or retrieving colours for them, we watched universes unfold.

There is talent in every one of them. And as the day rolled on, the colours described emotions, the yellow in the sun, the green in the grass, the smile on their faces. The bursts of happiness when they stopped painting to observe what they had created, masterpieces.

There is talent in every one of them. And as they neared completion of their works, they noticed that there was more than colour to their canvases. There was talent, there was joy, there was happiness, there was satisfaction. They knew they could do it, and they did it.

It is not what sets them apart from us, it is what sets us apart from them. They can do everything we can, but they don't have the opportunities to. Whereas, when we can do a lot, we usually dispose of the opportunities, and find contentment in other things.

There is love in them. They have learned to love through pain. If one of us more fortunate people were subjected to pain through love, we would give up, almost as quick as reflex.

You see, we cannot say they are less fortunate than us. We have most of the physical world.

They have most of the emotions.

Colours describe emotions. And today, at The Jam Jar, sugar never tasted so sweet.

Just Thinking

If a thread is torn apart, it can't be the way it was, no matter the quantity and quality of glue.

There are more chances of it breaking again.

It doesn't seem quite right, and that's how I feel.

Because soon, there will be a massive pull on the thread. It might break, might not. It just depends on how much I (we) hang on to it.

I mean a thread is so useful.
It can tie things, bind things, connect things.

And what if it breaks?

It could just fall to the floor, and get swept into some foreign dustbin...

The Evil That Men Do - Now by Dale Rozario and Nishant Mehrotra

So we decided to make a video for Shoof, and submitted this one.

However, we didn't get in. Anyway, it was worth it. I enjoyed it, and I like the outcome. It's up to you to judge now.

Sweet Harmony

So I strum a chord, so I play a melody.

And there's a sensation that runs through me, like I just woke up from a very long sleep, fresh after a long night. And I run, run into fields of yellow, under a blue sky. And there's the sound of harmony encompassing me in a shield. Nothing can touch me, nothing affects me. I'm who I am, and who I want to be. There are no fears, there is not hate. There is no fatigue. And I run endlessly, run into feilds of red, under a blue sky. There's the ocean in front of me, so I run.

Run.

No roads, no paths, no obstacles. Just an open world. I run into the lair of the fairies, where they dance and sing and jump. I see the elves under their mushroom houses, I see the gnomes in their garden parties. I see the trees as they make way for me to run.

The flowers, purple in fields of green, under a blue sky, swaying, swaying under the gentle breeze that brushes past my face.

And the harmony is ringing in my ears, soothing, and then it turns dissonant.

The sky turns grey, there's darkness everywhere. I cannot see. The flowers are wilting, the fairies are crying. The elves are running for shelter, the gnomes are screaming in fear. There, a flash. I turn, but I cannot see. Another flash behind me, I turn around, but I do not know that I turned around, because I cannot see. Maybe I'm standing in the same place. Then the flash, it erupts through me, a sensation that runs through me, like I just woke up from a very long sleep, fresh after a long night. And I run.

Run with harmony, harmony's hand in my hand.

Respect

Today wasn't the first time we crossed the line.

Today wasn't the first time we crossed the line.

Today wasn't the first time we crossed the line.

It wasn't.

I'm responsible for it. And everyone else is responsible for it.
We are not the only humans in this world. We are not the only ones who have feelings. We are not the only ones who get hurt. There are others too. People who loom in front of you and look like tyrants.

They are your mentors. You get your future from them.

I think it's time all of us. That includes EVERY single one of us, whether you mock, or hate. I think it's time for every single one of us to look back and look at the people we were. I think it's time for every single one of us to change what they see.

When?

It was so long ago; three years. And now the day has come, and gone. I never thought it would. When two people click, and are then forced to separate, it tears. Tears. Just like ripping a part of your body out. When they are stuck together, your finger to your palm, and you just rip it out. It hurts. It tears. And there's nothing we can do about it. I wish I could, so much. But theres nothing. My eyes aren't water retentive. And my heart isn't pain retentive. I wish they were, so much. Why does a relationship have to have its ends? I mean, couldn't it just go on, the laughter, the silence. But why the tears? Why the pain? I wish there was something any one of us could do. I wish there was something any of us could do.

How long is this longest day?

Switzerland

Since pictures speak a thousand words, or so the cliche goes.

NOTE: All these images were taken from a train window, so sorry for the bluriness.

Escapism is Wonderland

Just the other day, I was sitting in a train, after a long, long time. It felt good actually. Anyway, I was sitting in a train, and I think you should know, that in 2 hour train journeys, there is absolutely NOTHING to do except look out the window. So while I was, I was listening to music, and it so happened that my MP3 player was on shuffle. So while I was tasting variety, I was thinking to myself that there was no other place that I wanted to be, except on a stage, with a guitar. And I kept dreaming about what I would do, and how I would walk into an airport with a leather jacket and two-three guitar cases slung across my shoulders, signing autographs, with these real coo sunglasses on, and my long hair framing my face. It felt good, that I could go there, that I could be there. And I smiled to myself, this big cheesy grin, and I looked up to the sky and realized that God's given us the will to take us where we want to go.

You know, we have a gift, and it can take us anywhere we want to go. Some people don't know it, some people don't use it. But I'm telling you, fascination, living in an unreal world, it's the best thing to do to pass time.

Why do dreams happen? How do pictures automatically float across our minds during our sleep?

PS: Dear commenters, I know it's a short post, I know I haven't updated it in a long time, but it's the truth now. I don't really care about the comments. This post was just what I feel, and what I feel won't change because of you.
Sorry.

DDRF 2007 - March 9th and 10th

I will never forget those two days. I really don't know what to say either. I'll just take you down memory lane, insufficient as it may be, compared to captured scenes. But wow, what an awesome weekend it was. This weekend was the best one of my entire life. I'm sure those of you who were there (SK, Udai, Vinay, Vihaan, Jithin) would wholly comply with me for the simple fact that disagreeing would be home to a host of lies. How? I'll give you a detailed run-through of Desert Rock later. This is a more personal post.

How can music bring such a wide smile across your face? How can music discard all the worries that used to reside in your soul? I guess that's a mystery, but I'm so glad it is. I mean, over the weekend, I was standing less than 10 metres away from the members of my favourite bands, and I got to take a good look of them and realize they are only human. I got to exchange glances with them. Steve Harris, Lauren Harris, Maxim, Brandon Boyd, Bjorn, Peter, Jim Root, Corey. I have memorabilia from all of them, be it picks or autographs or glances.

I was waiting in patient anticipation for SO LONG, and those two days got over in what seemed like minutes. I seriously couldn't get enough. It's all we ever talk about these days. Desert Rock. It's such a, such a different thing.

I mean it was yesterday I was staring at the posters of Maiden on my wall, and then I'm so close to them.

This is where the cliche 'So close yet so far away' comes in.

They're only human! But they've performed inhuman feats.

I thought I'd only see them as pixels on a computer screen, or pixels on a tv screen. But I got to see them in person. Live. And since I was in the first row, I got to make eye contact with so many of them. I guess that's what a concert is all about.

But this was WAY more than just a concert. It was the miracle God works. God CAN make your dreams come true, and on those two days, I was living my dream.

How does it feel? How does it feel to see the band you loved so much live? To see them, to look into their eyes, to watch them walk and run in front of you, to see them do what you love them for. And that's what music does to people.

"Music brings us all together." - Corey Taylor, Stone Sour, Dubai Desert Rock - Dubai Country Club - 2007.

Records were set. Quotes were spoken.

Music was made.

Inspiration.

Inspiration is a fountain, a well from where you draw your imagination. It is a spring from where you relish yourself. It is the shallow pool where you bathe to relax yourself. It is the the minerals that you drink to quench your thirst.

It is the nutrients you obtain from your food to sustain yourself. It is the ground on which you trod to balance yourself. It is the trees under which you sit to shade yourself. It is the coal of the fire of your dreams.

Inspiration is the blanket you draw across yourself to shield yourself from the bitter, cold reality of dawn.

The Mars Volta

Finally, after exams, a lack of music, a and lack of sleep, I walk into my house, weary at first. I change into my house-clothes (something I call the clothes I wear at home) and gobble down a plateful of nourishing-things.

And then, I sit on the computer for a half-hour, completely lost in the music I needed for so long, diving into the harmony, the dissonancy, the crazy drum fills. Limewire, lying somewhere on the taskbar, with only a few songs in it, and the few, the only songs I listen to, for refugee from going study-crazy.

The Mars Volta.



They are everything I love. Brilliant music, just like that of Norma Jean, except they're rock, they don't scream; awesome lyrics, cryptic and vocabulary-filled, and traces of a foregin language; constructive guitar, exhilirating drums, and at the risk of sounding preachy, I must say these guys have really done what a band should do.

The Mars Volta.

The band is an extensive one, and they make use of many instruments, and implement them in their music. Here's the current lineup :

Omar Rodriguez Lopez - Composer, Guitar, synthesizers, production (2001 - Current)
Cedric Bixler Zavala - Lyrics, Vocals (2001 - Current)
Isaiah "Ikey" Owens - Keyboards (2001 - Current)
Juan Alderete - Bass (2003 - Current)
Thomas Pridgen - Drums (2007 - Current)
Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez - Percussion, synthesizers (2004 - Current)
Adrian Terrazas-Gonzales - Flute, Tenor Saxophone, Bass Clarinet and additional wind & percussion instruments (2004 in studio, 2005 in show - Current)
Paul Hinojos - Guitar, Sound Manipulation (On Stage 2003-2004, Joined Officially 2005 - Current)

As you can see, with the involvement of so many different sounds, the band is really original. There is no other band I can compare them to. Under genre, I can't really classify them, but they do come under Progressive Rock, Neo-psychedelia and Experimental Rock. I would personally put them under Progressive.

Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez are the heart and soul of the band, respectively, interchangeably. They compose all the songs, which is indeed a very commendable task, because I don't know how they do it. In their album Amputechture , they state that "The partnership between Omar Rodriguez-Lopez & Cedric Bixler-Zavala is The Mars Volta. These compositions are then performed by The Mars Volta Group"

Even their band name has a story to it.

Cedric Bixler-Zavala says that

" The Volta is taken from a Federico Fellini book about his films, what he characterizes as a changing of scene, or a turnaround; a new scene to him is called Volta. Y'know, changing of time and the changeover. And Mars, we're just fascinated by science-fiction so and it's something that ultimately looked as in anything I write, its meaning is always up to the listener. As the way we write songs and words, if it looks great on paper then to us it's like painting, so if it looks good meaning the second then people usually have a better interpretation than we ever would. "

In Roman mythology, Mars is the god of war, and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez therefore says that The Mars Volta are the bringers of peace.

Here's an excerpt from one of their extensive range of lyrics :

Are they gone are they gone
Stung the slang of a gallows bird
Rationed a dead letter pure
Trackmarked amoeba lands craft
Cartwheel of scratches
Dress the tapeworm as pet
Tentacles smirk please
Flinched the cocooned meat
Infra-recon forgets
Now there are those who find
Comfort in the breathing
Wrong-is it wrong
It houses the watchful eyes
They're panting in a pattern in droves
Are they gone

Eriatarka - The Mars Volta

I don't know how they do that either.

The bottom line is, you have to hear these guys.

Eriatarka
Cut That City
The Widow
This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed
Televators
Tetragrammaton
Concertina
Drunkship of Lanterns

Download them right away, and be pleasantly surprised.

A Guide to Day 2 Of Dubai Desert Rock 2007.

Well, the much awaited anouncement of the final lineup of Day 2 of Dubai Desert Rock Festival 2007 is complete, and what a day its going to be. I mean, who'd have thought these bands would even have a remote chance of stepping upon Dubai soil. But they are, and I have the chance of seeing these bands play live. It's an honour, really.

Well, I'm not going to go into much detail, like I did in the previous guide, I'm just going to state the bands and a small description of them.

INCUBUS

My headliner of the day. These guys are currently my favorite band and I'm getting to see them play a concert at home, live. How amazing is that? They have the most original music I've come across till date. They stray from the traditional means of rainwater harvesting (joking). They stray from the traditional means of songwriting. Mike Einzeiger has the most original compositions ever in rock history. I was really shocked when I heard they were coming.

THE BRAVERY

I heard these guys on Channel [V] sometime back. A long time back. I fell in love with their debut single An Honest Mistake . It's a blend of indie and a genre which isn't very prominent in today's music industry. They are a very good band, perfect for rock day, and I wouldn't miss them.

PRIME CIRCLE

Well, I'm not a big fan of these guys as they are highly cliched, but I don't mind seeing them either. Their music is pleasing to the ears. Similar artists : Creed, Alterbridge. Although they refrain from innovative and inspiring songwriting, they stick to the more conventional methods. This isn't too bad, and they would be quite entertaining live.

JUNKYARD GROOVE

Refer to my previous guide for details on this highly talented band from India.

And the headliner:

ROBERT PLANT OF LED ZEPPELIN

You read the name.

Go figure.


Well, that's all I'm going to include in this post, because because of these exams, my joy cannot be expressed as it was in the last guide.

However, I am EXTREMELY happy and am EXTREMELY anticipating Desert Rock because boy, this is one festival I'm NOT going to miss.

Music is a friend.

Thank you CSM for organizing such a splendid DDRF 2007. Without you, this scene would be barren sand.

Thank you Phride for keeping us updated on DDRF and the local music scene.

Dubai Desert Rock Festival Official Site

Insignia

To whom it may concern,

My official brother blog has just been born.
Poetry.

Insignia

Yours truly,
Nishant.

The Hyperly Overly Screwed Up Performance (H.O.S.U.P.)

Okay.

a) This is not a joke.
b) Don't laugh.
c) I don't expect sympathy, but neither do I expect rashness.

I'm sure all of you witnessed the horrific performance in school, aka H.O.S.U.P.
Let me describe what happened.

Before that, let me apologise. To the band, I'm sorry I started at double the tempo. I really am, trust me, and I warned you that I would screw up. I don't even know why. But I did. I'm sorry I misled all of you into a HUGE H.O.S.U.P. I really didn't mean to.

To Mr.Rodericks, I'm sorry for wasting your time, if I did. Thank you for your guidance. Thank you for your AMAZING guidance.

To Mr.Anthony Joseph, I'm sorry for raising your hopes. I know you conted on us, and I know we messed up, but we didn't mean to, I didn't mean to. I would NEVER want to mess up a song.

To the crowd, sorry for hurting your ears.

To John Frusciante, sorry for screwing up your amazing song. Thank you. And I'm very VERY sorry.

Well then, this is what happened.

I start. I mess up. I play at 500 times the tempo. I mess up. I mute notes. I mess up. I skip notes. I mess up.

Throughout the song, I mess up.

The cable of the bass on the drum got loose. I mess up.

Darien's mic was off. I mess up.

I was shaking. I mess up.

It hurt. I mean HOW could we get it right EVERY practice, and on stage, the most important part, HOW could we mess up? WHY did we mess up?

It's unthinkable. And as much as I don't want to think about it, I have to.
It's unbelievable, and as much as I don't want to think about it, I have to.

I don't know what to say or do anymore. Maybe I'll just keep my guitar away in some cupboard ot some lonely corner for sometime, maybe even for good. Who knows.

PS. Thanks yous Radhii!!!!!! That was really awesome :) I am really really grateful.

I hope you find the meaning.

To all my friends, thank you.

Inspirational, Gifted, Talented and Moving.

Guitar players. Guitar players like never before. No, I'm not talking about random shredding and playing fast and whatnot, I am talking about skill, about people who make music. People who make the most inspiring music you could ever listen to. And all this comes from ten finger tips, sometimes less.

Music you can NEVER get tired of listening to. <- Not exaggerating.

This is music.

Andy McKee
Don Ross
Antoine Defour

Names to never be forgotten. Names that should be engraved in the necks of your guitars, because they define what a guitar can do, what music really is.

It's so hard to tell their influences, it's a blend of EVERYTHING. Most being classical.

THIS is the music I want to play.

And I shall strive till I achieve it.
Because it's worth it.

Oh and it's more than worth it.

Don Ross


Don Ross


Andy McKee


Andy McKee's cover of Toto's 'Africa'


Antoine Dufour


These men deserve the guitar.

Schmizel

We, Schmizel are very disappinted. In our vocalist, in our fans. But, at the same time, we are glad, glad that we played, at the very least.

Who is "Schmizel"? What did they "play"? Why are we disappointed?

Schmizel, is a band, a band that played their very first gig at Mazaya Centre on the 5th of January, 2007. And it would've been a better show, if we had a few more people to support us, Mr. Vocalist - that also includes you. Yes, we played vocalistless, and it didn't sound that bad actually. What did we play?

Well, after we were informed that Mr. Vocalist wouldn't be able to make it, which was halfway through our 5-hour practice, we had to get Mr. Fat-now-thin. Who actually, saved the day. Thank you Mr. Fat-now-thin, if it wasn't for you, we'd have to play bassistless too, which wouldn't have been pretty at all.

Schmizel is Kapil Mehra, Shaun D'Mello, Amrit Sharma, Vinay Nagaraj and Nishant Mehrotra.

And a whole load of music.

And we performed live at Mazaya Centre, with a medley of the songs "Rock You Like a Hurricane" by The Scorpions and "Blood Brothers" by Iron Maiden. And we played them instrumental, though they are ANYTHING but instrumental songs. With amazing vocal lines, which were performable by our lead singer, who didn't make it for our FIRST gig, the songs were quite boring compared to how they could've been.

But nonetheless, satisfaction overcomes regret, and very efficiently this time.

We expected to see at least a few friends there to support us, but unforunately, found none. This disappointed us a tad bit, but whatever, satisfaction overcomes the regret. I hope to see at least one of you at our next gig, that is, if, we have a next gig.

We ARE dedicated to the music we make, and we ARE firm in the decision to play on, until the whatever catastrophe disbands us. But as long as we ARE a band, we will be making music.

AND WE EXPECT SUPPORT =P

This show was organized by Glenn Perry, who has made quite a name of himself in Dubai, and you can visit him at http://www.glennperry.com . Thanks, sir, for the opportunity you gave us. We really appreciate it.

Well, in case you're looking for a video of us, there is one up on Youtube, but the audio and visual quality isn't good. I'll post it up here, so you can view it and give us your feedback.

Left Front: Vinay - Lead Guitar, Left Back: Kapil - Rhythm Guitar

Centre: Amrit - Drums

Right Front: Shaun - Bass Guitar, Right Back: Nishant - Lead Guitar

It was taken with a cellphone, but we might get a camcorder-quality version soon.

Well, that's it for now, and I hope all of you like it and give us your support.

Unconfictional.

That's a word I made up.

Do I know what it means?

Analyze it. Unconditional. Fictional.

That means unconditional love doesn't really exist. Does it?