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Lavanya

About Me


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self-obsessed. bitter. socially retarded. bite me motherfucker.
i'm mediocre. i haven't excelled in anything since 2001.
freeze frame. times two.
defining lav: (light hearted humour, courtesy of esther - 15/11/05)
to commemorate mr mcuish (psychology revision by laura and lav - 16/1/06)
former coke addict (by georgia - 21/02/06) plus, cheers for the beard, laura.
ESTHER'S TRIBUTE TO NEWSTEAD (warning: may make you shed a tear.)
faq
Q: "why are all your clothes so holey?"
A: if they do the job sod splashing out on new ones.
Q: "why are you always writing?"
A: because writing is amazing. it's also one of the only things that does not change state no matter what changes in politics, society or fashion (granted that the meaning of a piece of writing can be significantly altered by all of the aforementioned.) literature will still be literature no matter how many world wars pass. a poem will still be a poem no matter how many brands are born and how many die. also, the power of the word exceeds that of most other things. a piece of writing can take you on a marvellous journey. it can arouse nostalgia, fury, admiration and a whole host of other emotions. (more available in real discussion.)
Q: "why do you always wear black?"
A: would say 'why do you wear what you wear?', but an awful lot of people are preoccupied with fashion, so that probably wouldn't have the desired effect. just like some people choose to wear t-shirts rather than shirts, or jeans rather than trousers, it's all about feeling comfortable in what you wear. my comfort just happens to be black.
Q: "why does it take you absolutely ages to write one simple message?"
A: because typos torture me.
Q: "why can't you do normal activities like swim or ride a bike?"
A: balance issues.
Q: "how comes you go so many places alone?"
A: highly uninhibited by independence. infact, it often feels safer alone. go to gigs for the music, and you need nothing but the music. go somewhere to meet someone, and you need nothing but the destination. go to buy some clothing, and you need nothing but money. don't like to force my time with people. i'm always deep in thought, so never really alone. but when i'm alone everything's perfect. there's nobody criticising, nagging, judging, no expectation, no fragile ties, nor am i restricted by ignorant opinions or social taboos. it's freedom.
Q: "why the long face?"
A: perhaps the most annoying and frequently asked question (in it's different forms, including the rhetorical "cheer up", "it can't all be bad", usw.) not a fan of wearing a permanent fake grin (in either the literal or metaphorical sense) to please others. people who constantly have a smile on their face are usually hiding some sort of insecurities or discomfort, or are just pretty blank. i'm usually deep in thought so my 'pissed off face' is actually my 'pondering face'. this does cause problems when people mistake this for some sort of dirty look, a look of boredom (though on occasion it is), or misery, but rest assured i do not believe i am any superior or inferior to you, don't get bored due to my overactive mind (though i may wish to be somewhere else), and am a generally happy, optimistic person. end of.
Q: "why all the german?"
A: german is sexy. forget pervy frenchmen and horny italians, i'm getting me a german (preferably one that looks good in hot pants). it may actually be verging on a fetish. germany is absolutely wonderful and excels in everything, like kraftwerk and kmfdm (well, sascha) in music, h.r. giger in art, goethe in poetry, kafka in literature, usw. it also has a fascinating history, especially post-war germany.

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

me in ten years to give myself a good slap and perhaps some st johns wort. david bowie - what a legend. rammstein, minus till lindemann. till lindemann about "messer". serj tankian. tim burton - clichéd, but he's great. manson, he's intelligent. nic endo - fucking gorgeous. the queen while she's asleep so i can draw a moustache on her...stupid monarchy. nelson mandela...jesus touched him once...or was it his father (r.i.p.)...i can't quite remember but he told me so. someone real.

but in all honesty, they'd all more than likely be great disappointments. it's the anticlimax factor.

My Blog

malfunction

lies. they are bacteria multiplying. the s.t.d. that penetrates the womb. morning sickness? no, mourning sickness. they are the scarab beetles i was kept awake by after every screening of 'the mummy'....
Posted by on Thu, 25 Sep 2008 15:46:00 GMT

schmerz

paranoid with reason. touching communication without communicating. touching, feeling, screaming, kneeling. giving ecstacy and taking happiness. taking pain. without love it still hurts.
Posted by on Sat, 13 Jan 2007 18:44:00 GMT

dream

to dream is to live, for it is only by truly following our dreams that we fail to follow fools.
Posted by on Mon, 21 Aug 2006 17:05:00 GMT

hope

stepping over broken trees in this wilderness i call home, fearing no depths. i put my faith in reincarnation. comforted by the wisdom that the further we sink, the closer we are to hap...
Posted by on Sat, 03 Jun 2006 14:26:00 GMT

zukunft

bunged up like sewage pipes i ponder the future. wedged between the rock that is my kin and the beckoning hard place of my happiness. the impossible choice. a world of magnificent proportions, in whic...
Posted by on Sun, 14 May 2006 15:41:00 GMT

die heimat

two loud bangs. gunshots or fireworks, i do not know. not even a flinch. innate sirens, empty streets, crippled ancients juxtaposed with ignorant teens. this will forever be home.
Posted by on Sun, 09 Apr 2006 12:55:00 GMT

identity

i know who i am, but not what i am. "where are you from?" andra pradesh or lewisham? one is the blood, one is the birth certificate. here i am dark skinned, an indian, a 'paki'. there, a strange hairc...
Posted by on Sun, 12 Mar 2006 11:49:00 GMT

unbewegt

feeling somewhat blank for not knowing what to feel. trying to find a focus to want, to dote, to smother with the love i cannot divide. one taste is never enough. it's a fool's game, hope, but on...
Posted by on Thu, 09 Mar 2006 17:26:00 GMT

cold

chaining alone in a frozen eden. too cold for daisies, too late for light. installing cancer in the heart of a beautiful dream. whispering to blades, fields screaming "bitte. hilf mir." hungry wi...
Posted by on Sun, 26 Feb 2006 12:43:00 GMT

vision

dreams are fabulous encounters with irrationality. feasting on soup and other such inadequacies, vision is distorted by mucus-infested reality. always getting there but i've never yet arrived. pe...
Posted by on Sun, 12 Feb 2006 09:02:00 GMT