January 31, 2011
A New Sky...
I am looking for a mountain and a desert, an elephant and a camel, a hawk and a mouse, a new traffic signal and a new chair, a new lamp and a new parachute, a new smell and a brand new mattress, a new cup for my morning chai and plateful of sunshine, a new book and a new reader, new disco balls and new sweat, a new river and some rain...all new and something old...
Frog Pyjamas Are Exciting...
It seems that everyone is bored. Bored of what? Bored of many things. Bored of same things. Bored of life. Bored of waking up everyday, going through the same routine. Bored of being bored. Bored of being sad. Everyone's sad around. Everyone's looking. Everyone's bored of looking too. Looking for what? Looking for life. Something that'll save them. Some think it's love that'll save them. Some think it's a new job, a new fuck, a new city, a new adventure, new friends, a new kitchen, a new waist, a new identity. It seems like everyone's stuck...in a rut...motherfucking rut. Trapped from all side. Everyone's smoking their own stale frustrated breath. Even if it takes a jump from the 18th floor of the office building that'll bring change...well...there are people ready to even do that. It seems the universe is angry with humankind...humans are never kind, sorry, human being...but they have stopped being too. They are just sleepwalking through life...waking up and sleeping back into darkness that resembles their waking hours. We are being punished for something. I don't know what. But we are being punished. And there's nothing left except this painful wait.
January 30, 2011
The Song...
You're wondering if I'm lonely:
OK then, yes, I'm lonely
as a plane rides lonely and level
on its radio beam, aiming
across the Rockies
for the blue-strung aisles
of an airfield on the ocean.
You want to ask, am I lonely?
Well, of course, lonely
as a woman driving across country
day after day, leaving behind
mile after mile
little towns she might have stopped
and lived and died in, lonely
If I'm lonely
it must be the loneliness
of waking first, of breathing
dawns' first cold breath on the city
of being the one awake
in a house wrapped in sleep
If I'm lonely
it's with the rowboat ice-fast on the shore
in the last red light of the year
that knows what it is, that knows it's neither
ice nor mud nor winter light
but wood, with a gift for burning
--Adrienne Rich
Evening...
It was just another Sunday evening. I had woken up from a nap, made myself a cup of tea, compulsively checked, first Gmail, and then Facebook. I was to meet a couple of friends in the evening, and I should be hurrying up, dressing up...but just like always, I was staring out of the window instead. Watching sun-rays bounce off the glass windows, listening to some bird chirping, watching the dried yellow-brown leaves fly away in the breeze...it was just like one those Sunday evenings. But it was different. You were missing from my life.
It was a very sudden thought. I wasn't prepared to entertain it too. I have walked so far away from you, that I'd scarcely recognise you if you were to stand in front of me today.
And I realise, this is the life I chose. When I sat in this same place, a few years ago, I chose this day, this day without you. I made those decisions.
This is how the day looks like. And whatever it is I chose, I must take the consequences. I must suffer the penalties of wrong decisions and I must celebrate the successes of the right ones.
But it did feel like a completely different life. I had changed so much too.
It was a very sudden thought. I wasn't prepared to entertain it too. I have walked so far away from you, that I'd scarcely recognise you if you were to stand in front of me today.
And I realise, this is the life I chose. When I sat in this same place, a few years ago, I chose this day, this day without you. I made those decisions.
This is how the day looks like. And whatever it is I chose, I must take the consequences. I must suffer the penalties of wrong decisions and I must celebrate the successes of the right ones.
But it did feel like a completely different life. I had changed so much too.
Sunday Reading...
There was a phase when I used to collect smart retorts or witty insults from all over the web. While it's true, that I can dish it out but can't take it, I'll make a concession if you manage to make the insult a witty one. Call me a bimbo, but say it in such a fashion that I'd be forced to laugh with you (and maybe even quote you). But such wit is ofcourse rare.
Though not entirely related, this article on Hollywood movie critics, The Poison Quill of Hollywood, reminded me of the "Greatest Retort" collection I had saved somewhere in my Gmail.
And isn't it sad that no one in Bollywood has the guts nor wit to write a good funny honest review? Sigh, and so we must suffer movies like Tees Maar Khan (where I literally cried).
Moving on, also found this in my archives:Hard Road To Travel. A brilliant read about Mumbai's autowalla's. Do read. One of the few essays I read without checking my Gmail/Facebook constantly.
I remember I was supposed to write an essay for some job I was applying to, and the essay question was: What Indian business do you think has the potential to go global?or Indian product...or an idea?
And I remember Parth had suggested I write about the TATA Nano.
Well, looks like a failed marketing strategy, a major roadblock (read: the manufacturing plant) and ofcourse not enough damage control (read the burning car incident) has reduced my essay to rubbish (which it anyway was). No Takers: Is the Tata Nano Running Out of Gas? A good read on how the Nano went wrong. Sigh, and so much potential it had too.
*****
(A few of my favourite retorts)
Truman Capote was fond of regaling people with an anecdote about one of his finer moments. At the height of his popularity, he was drinking one evening with friends in a crowded Key West bar. Nearby sat a couple, both inebriated. The woman recognized Capote, walked over to his table, and gushingly asked him to autograph a paper napkin. The woman's husband, angry at his wife's display of interest in another man, staggered over to Capote's table and assumed an intimidating position directly in front of the diminutive writer. He then proceeded to unzip his trousers and, in Capote's own words, "hauled out his equipment." As he did this, he bellowed in a drunken slur, "Since you're autographing things, why don't you autograph this?" It was a tense moment, and a hush fell over the room. The silence was a blessing, for it allowed all those within earshot to hear Capote's soft, high-pitched voice deliver the perfect emasculating reply:
"I don't know if I can autograph it, but perhaps I can initial it."
***
After a long day of shooting a film in Hollywood, John Barrymore and some fellow actors stopped in at Lucey's, a popular watering hole near Paramount Studios. After one-too-many drinks, Barrymore excused himself to go to the bathroom. In his slightly inebriated condition, however, he inadvertently chose the ladies' room. As he was relieving himself, a woman entered and was shocked to see a man urinating into one of the toilets. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, "This is for ladies!" The actor turned toward the woman, organ in hand, and resonantly said in full actor's voice:
"And so, madam, is this."
***
Nancy Astor was an American socialite who married into an English branch of the wealthy Astor family (she holds the distinction of being the first woman to be seated in Parliament). At a 1912 dinner party in Blenheim Palace--the Churchill family estate--Lady Astor became annoyed at an inebriated Winston Churchill, who was pontificating on some topic. Unable to take any more, she finally blurted out, "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." Without missing a beat, Churchill replied:
"Nancy, if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
***
In a profession noted for windbags, the 30th U. S. President Calvin Coolidge was a politician of very few words, well deserving the nickname, "Silent Cal" (he once said, "I've never been hurt by something I didn't say"). Coolidge's taciturn style frustrated the many people around him who felt a man of his stature should be more talkative. At a White House dinner one evening, a female guest sidled up to the President and whispered in his ear, "You must talk to me, Mr. President. I made a bet today that I could get more than two words out of you." Coolidge whispered back:
"You lose."
***
Perhaps the most celebrated retort in the history of wit occurred in a famous exchange between two 18th century political rivals, John Montagu, also known as the Earl of Sandwich, and the reformist politician, John Wilkes. During a heated argument, Montagu scowled at Wilkes and said derisively, "Upon my soul, Wilkes, I don't know whether you'll die upon the gallows, or of syphilis" (some versions of the story say "a vile disease" and others "the pox"). Unfazed, Wilkes came back with what many people regard as the greatest retort of all time:
"That will depend, my Lord, on whether I embrace your principles, or your mistress."
Though not entirely related, this article on Hollywood movie critics, The Poison Quill of Hollywood, reminded me of the "Greatest Retort" collection I had saved somewhere in my Gmail.
And isn't it sad that no one in Bollywood has the guts nor wit to write a good funny honest review? Sigh, and so we must suffer movies like Tees Maar Khan (where I literally cried).
Moving on, also found this in my archives:Hard Road To Travel. A brilliant read about Mumbai's autowalla's. Do read. One of the few essays I read without checking my Gmail/Facebook constantly.
I remember I was supposed to write an essay for some job I was applying to, and the essay question was: What Indian business do you think has the potential to go global?or Indian product...or an idea?
And I remember Parth had suggested I write about the TATA Nano.
Well, looks like a failed marketing strategy, a major roadblock (read: the manufacturing plant) and ofcourse not enough damage control (read the burning car incident) has reduced my essay to rubbish (which it anyway was). No Takers: Is the Tata Nano Running Out of Gas? A good read on how the Nano went wrong. Sigh, and so much potential it had too.
*****
(A few of my favourite retorts)
Truman Capote was fond of regaling people with an anecdote about one of his finer moments. At the height of his popularity, he was drinking one evening with friends in a crowded Key West bar. Nearby sat a couple, both inebriated. The woman recognized Capote, walked over to his table, and gushingly asked him to autograph a paper napkin. The woman's husband, angry at his wife's display of interest in another man, staggered over to Capote's table and assumed an intimidating position directly in front of the diminutive writer. He then proceeded to unzip his trousers and, in Capote's own words, "hauled out his equipment." As he did this, he bellowed in a drunken slur, "Since you're autographing things, why don't you autograph this?" It was a tense moment, and a hush fell over the room. The silence was a blessing, for it allowed all those within earshot to hear Capote's soft, high-pitched voice deliver the perfect emasculating reply:
"I don't know if I can autograph it, but perhaps I can initial it."
***
After a long day of shooting a film in Hollywood, John Barrymore and some fellow actors stopped in at Lucey's, a popular watering hole near Paramount Studios. After one-too-many drinks, Barrymore excused himself to go to the bathroom. In his slightly inebriated condition, however, he inadvertently chose the ladies' room. As he was relieving himself, a woman entered and was shocked to see a man urinating into one of the toilets. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, "This is for ladies!" The actor turned toward the woman, organ in hand, and resonantly said in full actor's voice:
"And so, madam, is this."
***
Nancy Astor was an American socialite who married into an English branch of the wealthy Astor family (she holds the distinction of being the first woman to be seated in Parliament). At a 1912 dinner party in Blenheim Palace--the Churchill family estate--Lady Astor became annoyed at an inebriated Winston Churchill, who was pontificating on some topic. Unable to take any more, she finally blurted out, "Winston, if you were my husband, I'd put poison in your coffee." Without missing a beat, Churchill replied:
"Nancy, if you were my wife, I'd drink it."
***
In a profession noted for windbags, the 30th U. S. President Calvin Coolidge was a politician of very few words, well deserving the nickname, "Silent Cal" (he once said, "I've never been hurt by something I didn't say"). Coolidge's taciturn style frustrated the many people around him who felt a man of his stature should be more talkative. At a White House dinner one evening, a female guest sidled up to the President and whispered in his ear, "You must talk to me, Mr. President. I made a bet today that I could get more than two words out of you." Coolidge whispered back:
"You lose."
***
Perhaps the most celebrated retort in the history of wit occurred in a famous exchange between two 18th century political rivals, John Montagu, also known as the Earl of Sandwich, and the reformist politician, John Wilkes. During a heated argument, Montagu scowled at Wilkes and said derisively, "Upon my soul, Wilkes, I don't know whether you'll die upon the gallows, or of syphilis" (some versions of the story say "a vile disease" and others "the pox"). Unfazed, Wilkes came back with what many people regard as the greatest retort of all time:
"That will depend, my Lord, on whether I embrace your principles, or your mistress."
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