Sunday, February 26, 2006
Odds and ends make for rambling
Listening to Eric Clapton croon "It's late in the evening" now, and feeling decidedly sappy. I thought about my life and my relationship, and while things seem to be getting decidely complicated, I've decided that all of it is Work In Progress. No use badmouthing. No use giving undue benefits of the doubt.
I feel wonderful tonight...
I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes
And the wonder of it all is that you just won't realise
How much I love you
Talking about it here seems easier somehow, than on the Other Blog. There's too much of voyeurism there, and while I like voyeurism at times, this is not one of those times. This is the time when I need some quiet, and that feels wonderful. Ironic, to have the blog named LIVINGhigh, though.
Movie I would like to see: Breakfast at Tiffany's. Heard so much about it, it feels like I've already seen it. So many close friends have read the book/ seen the movie, that it's quite absurd. And here I am, listening to Deep Blue Something singing Breakfast at Tiffany's! The name just keeps on coming back to haunt me over and over again.
And o, yes, I still haven't bought the laptop. Not sure whether I should go in for an Airtel GPRS connection, either. The data card is too damn expensive, and so is the Reliance Mobile antennae. Pah, I hate being poor!
Friday, February 24, 2006
Urgh!
Difficult questions going through my head, so this post is going to be a mad ramble. Anonymous commenters started the dervish, but then, I can't really blame them, can I? Who can I blame? The funny part is, no one really. Even Gibraltar rocks can shake some times, and I shouldn't expect them to be so completely without doubts or fears. Am I making excuses for people because I'm in love, I keep asking myself. Perhaps. Is it a kind of betrayal? More gruesome that mine? Mine didn't have mind. This one apparently had. But who says that mine is lesser of the two? I'm rambling because I'm judging. I'm judging, though I told myself I wouldn't.
The question is: what next? I've made up my mind to go back to things they were. The same old way. Swearing love and allegiance. That part is true, at any rate. I do feel this way. Complete, since we met. And I want it to stay that way.
But...
There's that nagging fear and I can't deny that. That perhaps, a week or two later, I'm going to hear the same issue again. The same fear. I have complexes and insecurities of my own. I'll push them aside to deal with these problems, because I need to. But, I can't deny that sometimes these silly complexes do surface, and they do torture me. I'm no Gilraltar rock, and I have my own shakiness.
I'm praying that it won't be so. That I'll be in love, and I will see that returned. Forever. Doubts, fears, uncertainties will crop up, yes, but that we'll survive all of that. Is that too much to ask for? Too much to hope for? We'll handle it. The other connection will be broken, I've been assured. And I trust and believe. I can't make this relationship work, if I don't.
Now?
...Always
Monday, February 20, 2006
Row, row, RIOT!!!
It seems so silly at first glance. A cartoonist draws something and it's published in paper. Some silly man on a pulpit decides its blasphemous, and suddenly people are dying everywhere across the world. It's not silly, really, as much as it is tragic. So many things that make it tragic.
1. One man decides that there's no other way he can make a cartoon other than to poke fun at a character sacred to so many people of a different Faith.
2. One man decides that one single image among all the various million images circulating the globe at any given time is utterly sacriligeous and this means that the world has no respect for the people of his Faith.
3. So many people of that faith actually follow that pulpit guy's theory and go on a rampage. Across the world.
4. People die. The cartoonist goes into hiding. Declares from his hole in the wall that he has full right to draw whatever he does, and he doesn't give a rat's ass about what pulpit guy and rampaging guys think. More people die.
Who's left holding the smoking gun here?
Cartoons are meant to be funny. But these are certainly not that.
*sigh*
Thursday, February 16, 2006
I thought, I could do with a laugh.
;-)
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
BAM!
Pissed of at the hierarchy. Nothing happens the way it's supposed to. What the hell is the use of a plan then? You make up a theory, and then you make your subordinates run around so that the theory is completely negated. No use, whatsoever.
In the way, you end up feeling like a complete arsehole.
The name is Arse. Arse Hole.
I have friends telling me that I should take a deep breath. I have done that, all too often. I need to make phone calls. Nobody's going to help you if you don't help yourself. As much as I would like to believe something else, time and circumstances have hammered that into my head. I can't help it, then. God, I sound bitter. Angry and red. I'm all that. I had hope. A springboard, they told me.
Yea, right!
Sunday, February 12, 2006
The Black Horse
I've been quite busy in the evenings this past week, running away from work and not checking mails too much or answering blog comments... and that's because of the Kaalaa Ghodaa Arts Festival. Rather, as far as I'm concerned, the KG Movie Festival. Not that I'm some sort of a great arty movie afficiando, cuz I'm not, and thank god that the KGMF is nothing of the sort. In fact, I've had an argument with the Flatmate on this: she says that the point of a movie festival is to showcase arty movies that would not be seen otherwise, whereas, I've said that it's a movie festival if its shows people they would not have the time to see otherwise, and that can mean both arty stuff as well as the older commercial stuff.
So, the movies I've seen so far:
1. Thelma and Louise.
2. My Fair Lady
3. and two more I can't recall the names of.
They've been good. If I say there were uplifting, I would sound awfully fake, but I'm still going to say that. And I hogged at the festival, as well. Went with Vahid, and hogged Burmese khouswey and common cotton candy from the roads... I also wanted to try paani puri, but the ones on Worli Sea Face will forever remain special for me, so I didn't try them out at KG. ;-) And I strolled through Rampart Row, looking at the great handicraft stuff and paintings they have on display there. But I'm cheap, so I found them mostly over priced.
Art. Nice, sometimes. When I can control the flow.
PS: I still can't get over the fact that they removed the statue of the black horse and rider from where the place gets its name, and made a parking lot in its place! Yech!
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Travelling up the Ruler
Caught the train to Vasai Road today. Bloody far. First stop at Borivilli. Hate Borivilli. And then, another crash-burn-shove train to Virar. For the uninititated, like I was, Vasai Road is a stop ahead of the infamous Virar. Virar is infamous because of the violence that supposedly accompanies every local train that plies the route. And I was in the middle of all this, because I hoped to buy my laptop from a shop in Vasai Road, so as to escape the even more infamous OCTROI that Maharashtra (blessed state!) levies.
Complicated. And long. Both the story and the route. The train kept chugging along. Thank you God, for giving me an iPOD. A walkman with the radio just wouldn't have cut it. Vasai is another blooming city altogether (hence, no octroi), and the train rushed past mountains and hills and across some vast inland sea, and still kept chugging along. After Dahisar, my cell phone lost its signal, and I was officially in no-man's-land.
Remembered an earlier mention from Geet, about travelling to a friend's place on Mira Road, and that's why I felt nostalgic, when my train passed that particular station. Mira Road is a village. On one side of the train, there are highrises some thousand feet away, and on the other side, there are paddy and rice fields, submerged in water. I know I'm being a horrible townie snob here, but why on earth would people live so far away from Bombay, but still travel to Bombay regularly for work?!
Longitudinal city of Bombay.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Lethargy
Waking up in the morning has always been a terrible chore for me. Not just waking up early, waking up, per se. Terrible thought. Remain snuggled up in the blanket. Close eyes and shut out world. Sometimes switch on radio and listen to wafting music while drifting back to sleep. But more often than not, the RJ's jabbering could tend to jolt you out of sleep, so its busy to do without all that in the first place.
Other things as lethargic? Surfing on the net. Chatting with strangers in a chatroom. You know it's utter drivel, but it still seems so much more an attractive version sometimes, than getting up and going to sleep. Pop, pop, new window, new person. Ask what's happening, which part of the world you're in. Smile. Grimace. Joke. Sad face. Love the idea of waltzing with strangers. But you miss someone special at the same time, and wonder when you'll see that person next again. Hurriedly scrap a message - two lines, maybe three - to that person.
Come back, please do come. Love you.
Desperately.
Other things as lethargic? Memories. Which go hand in hand with sleep. Sweet morose sleep. When even the sun refuses to shine forth before seven thirty am. Set the alarm, and rude trings nudge you. Rub eyes and smile at happy memories. Scowl at the thought of when you might get them again, but then an online chat is enough to make you happy again. Be optimistic.
There is enough love in the world. And no, love is not lethargic.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
I come from the land of politik
The idea was about Blog Politics. Which could actually mean a whole lot of things. There could be a couple (or more) blogs which could alternately dissect and dissert common topics... They could do the same to each other as well. There could be blogs looking at politics as well. Just the other day, I bumped into this blog called Warfornews, and almost everyone at the office was poring over the author's version of Times Now. Some of it was good, some of it not very flattering at all, and some were downright rude. Criticism. Yech. And then, maybe some praise. Yech again. WfN is basically about politics among TV channels, and by talking about all that, it's pretty obvious that WfN is not above the same. He's got his favourites: Barkha Dutt, the flaming candle of Indian journalism, among them.
I wonder if anyone remember's K's joke about the faming candle. ;-)
And then there are politics among blogs that basically compete with the same idea. Or that are run by the same person, with different ideas in mind. Like this one and Blog X. Blog X started out to encompass stuff which LIVINGhigh did not. Blog X became popular, and I loved it. Everyone loves to be a voyeur and see hidden things. I loved being the anonymous guy showing the voyeurs things that they never thought they wanted to see. But there's a limit to that. And that's where the blog politics started. LIVINGhigh gets neglected - but naturally - while Blog X thrives. Continues for ages. Not that I never had anything to write here... merely that, in my enthusiasm for Blog X, everything in my life was suffused with the X element. And so the story carried on.
What ended that phase? Partly, a loss of anonymity, a loss of supremacy. A space that is my own started feeling as if it was being shared. And I'm not good with sharing. Everyone knows that, and I'm the big egoistic prick. Welcome to egoland. It's not too bad a place to live in. Would I kill Blog X? No, I wouldn't. But I could pander to LIVINGhigh, and allow a renewed grey cell onslaught here. So, it's basically a question of giving into the schizophrenic side of you and your blogs. Talk and argue. Politik.
Ergo.
