1) I have been much too depressed for much too long. Not just depressed, to be honest. Moody is more like it. On top of the world one day, the pits the next, and so on and on in an infintely complicated emotional rollercoaster that refuses to let me get off.
2)I have always kept to myself . How introvertedness turned into excruciating shyness is beyond me. I just can't talk to anyone anymore without being agonizingly self-conscious, and judgemental.
3)There's not one thing I feel really strongly about. I'm absolutely bereft of passion. What I needed, perhaps, was a Muse of some sort, something or someone that could've filled out the emptiness.
4)Everybody I know has the paths of their lives charted out to the smallest detail. I, on the other hand, have never felt more aimless. Ambitions have never been my thing, and deep down, I know that I'm driving down to a dead-end.
5)I always grew up considering myself to be gifted in some manner. You know the standards - math whiz, super writer, star athlete. As each year goes by, you strike one off the list, till one day you wake up to the fact that you might as well have torn off the page when you were ten.
6)The other day, it just struck me that I can't do anything. I can't ride a bike, drive a car, cook, play the guitar, sing, fix the radio, dance, sew, paint.Nothing.
7) I'm fat and ugly. And I'll never forgive You for that.
8)Lately, I've taken to listening to sappy love songs, and watching the most unbelievably mushy candy-floss. I don't know if you do this too, but I seem to have gotten into the habit of imagining myself as the actor on screen, especially during all the making-out. I'm sure it isn't healthy thing to do. Kissing Kate Winslet did feel rather good, though.
9)I tried to make a list of the people who would miss me. Really miss me, truly wish I was still around. Afraid not too many made that list. And I can't blame anyone for that. If I were you, I wouldnt miss me. Eminently forgettable I am, if little else.
10)Spending long hours online is a sign of social dysfunction. Perhaps if i had tried to go out and talk to real people, I wouldn't be as lonely as I am now. Virtual relationships are easy to make, and from personal experience, very convenient for people to walk away from. Use-and-throw has never had more license.
11)I hate my ego. It is just so suffocating.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Friday, January 20, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
DT
Deutsche Telekom Laboratories do not deem me worthy of a summer internship. What's more, they do not believe that I'm even good enough to make the shortlist.
My dreams of frolicking in the Rhine this summer, during the football World Cup finals, no less, are dashed. Shattered. Beyond repair.
What else can I do now but wistfully paraphrase the immortal words of Amy Sedaris ?
"When shit gets you down, say 'fuck it' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy."
"Bitch. I'm here to tell you that it's going to be all right. We'll get through this shit, motherfucker, just you wait"
Yeah, DT, you sonofabitch, just you wait.
My dreams of frolicking in the Rhine this summer, during the football World Cup finals, no less, are dashed. Shattered. Beyond repair.
What else can I do now but wistfully paraphrase the immortal words of Amy Sedaris ?
"When shit gets you down, say 'fuck it' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy."
"Bitch. I'm here to tell you that it's going to be all right. We'll get through this shit, motherfucker, just you wait"
Yeah, DT, you sonofabitch, just you wait.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
One
Whilst I find my calling in the City of Joy over the next week or so, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would wish my bloggie a very happy first birthday on the 14th.
A cake would be nice, too. And a candle to blow out .
I wonder what wish my bloggie would make.
A little less neglect, perhaps.
A cake would be nice, too. And a candle to blow out .
I wonder what wish my bloggie would make.
A little less neglect, perhaps.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Dazed and Confused
I dig Richard Linklater. I really do. The man gives me perspective.
"I mean, God. Don't you ever feel like everything we do and everything we've been taught is just to service the future."
"Yeah, I know. It's like it's all preparation."
"Right, but what are we preparing ourselves for?"
"Death."
" If we're all going to die anyway shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I'd like to quit thinking of the present, like right now as some minor insignificant pre-amble to something else."
In other news, the fork in the road is approaching. My life and career, and the direction of the same.Time to toss the old coin, and ask the question again.
I mean man, whither goest thou?
Whither goest thou, melon collie, in thy shiny car in the night?
"I mean, God. Don't you ever feel like everything we do and everything we've been taught is just to service the future."
"Yeah, I know. It's like it's all preparation."
"Right, but what are we preparing ourselves for?"
"Death."
" If we're all going to die anyway shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I'd like to quit thinking of the present, like right now as some minor insignificant pre-amble to something else."
In other news, the fork in the road is approaching. My life and career, and the direction of the same.Time to toss the old coin, and ask the question again.
I mean man, whither goest thou?
Whither goest thou, melon collie, in thy shiny car in the night?
Saturday, January 07, 2006
the whore of mensa
I find the idea most fascinating. Merely thinking about it gets me dripping wet. (I meant the drool, silly). My hair begins to stand on end. And not only my hair, to tell you the truth.
Consider this for yourself. Call someone over at an odd hour of the night. Someone unknown to you, preferably mid-twenties, reasonably comely. A sweet smile would be a bonus. Proceed to fulfil your deepest, darkest, most deviant fantasies. Succumb to the exhilarating, overpowering ecstasy, leaving you utterly at the stranger's mercy, begging for more more more.
All at a price, you understand.
No touching, of course, though some are known to be accommodating in that respect. Absolutely no fondling allowed, however. The mind is the mind, the body is the body, and never the twain shall meet.
The whores will discuss, at great depth, any intellectual topic of your preference. You name it. The recurrent motifs in the work of D.H Lawrence. The films of David Lynch. Perhaps even an explanation (if such a thing does exist) of 'Lost Highway'. The pointillist art of Georges-Pierre Seurat. Husserl's phenemology of internal time consciousness. The fugues of Johann Sebastian Bach. Freud's stages of development. The influence of bebop on Beat literature. The list is endless.
Trust me. There's nothing sexier than talking high-brow with a well-informed woman. If you feel uncomfortable about this, just look upon it as a cerebral jerking-off. And of course, you don't need a condom either.
You know what they say. The most erotic organ is between the ears.
Yeah, baby. They got that one right.
P.S.
Read the entire Woody Allen short story here.
Consider this for yourself. Call someone over at an odd hour of the night. Someone unknown to you, preferably mid-twenties, reasonably comely. A sweet smile would be a bonus. Proceed to fulfil your deepest, darkest, most deviant fantasies. Succumb to the exhilarating, overpowering ecstasy, leaving you utterly at the stranger's mercy, begging for more more more.
All at a price, you understand.
No touching, of course, though some are known to be accommodating in that respect. Absolutely no fondling allowed, however. The mind is the mind, the body is the body, and never the twain shall meet.
The whores will discuss, at great depth, any intellectual topic of your preference. You name it. The recurrent motifs in the work of D.H Lawrence. The films of David Lynch. Perhaps even an explanation (if such a thing does exist) of 'Lost Highway'. The pointillist art of Georges-Pierre Seurat. Husserl's phenemology of internal time consciousness. The fugues of Johann Sebastian Bach. Freud's stages of development. The influence of bebop on Beat literature. The list is endless.
Trust me. There's nothing sexier than talking high-brow with a well-informed woman. If you feel uncomfortable about this, just look upon it as a cerebral jerking-off. And of course, you don't need a condom either.
You know what they say. The most erotic organ is between the ears.
Yeah, baby. They got that one right.
P.S.
Read the entire Woody Allen short story here.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
The Curtain
I was ten at the time. Give or take a year. It was the annual inter-class painting competition, that Holy Grail of all things artistic for pre-pubescent kids (atleast the guys, anyway) with little more than starry eyes and an inflated(parent-induced, no doubt) opinion of their own talents.
The teachers, in charge of the organisational aspects of this venture, sprang something of a surprise. 'Free topic - Anything you want', they said, setting off an excited buzz around the rather large drawing hall . 'Unheard of !', whimpered some. 'F***ing brilliant', claimed the rather more wordly wise. What scope this bold, daring step would provide for artistic innovation! What grand, hidden talent this momentous move would unearth !
The dominant subject of choice, for most, seemed to be a landscape of some sort. You know the works - a nice house, preferably with a chimney (a remnant of the Santa Claus delusion, perhaps) , garden, fence, mountains in the background, and the rising sun in the background.
Some others worked on their version of a rainy day, boats on a lake(visions of Monet's 'Impressions of Sunrise', perhaps ?), and other such mundane topics. No nudes though, sadly.
Meanwhile, I drew a curtain.
It was simply called 'The Curtain'. Of course, at the time, I wasn't to know that a title of this sort was very much in the tradition of Camus ('The Plague', 'The Outsider'), and Kafka('The Trial', 'The Castle'), not even to mention Rodin('The Thinker'), the work's quality unquestionable and its metaphysical implications immense.
Of course, I was laughed at. Mocked, even. By all the teachers, no less.
I tell you what, though. It might've been just a reddish brown, plain, frilly curtain covering the entire sheet of drawing paper. It didn't seek to blow in the wind, or anything funny like that. It didn't try to portray any showy light effects. Dammit, it may not even have covered a window.
It was, however, without a shadow of a doubt, the classic minimalist work of its time. And it was all mine.
No wonder I turned out so messed up.
The teachers, in charge of the organisational aspects of this venture, sprang something of a surprise. 'Free topic - Anything you want', they said, setting off an excited buzz around the rather large drawing hall . 'Unheard of !', whimpered some. 'F***ing brilliant', claimed the rather more wordly wise. What scope this bold, daring step would provide for artistic innovation! What grand, hidden talent this momentous move would unearth !
The dominant subject of choice, for most, seemed to be a landscape of some sort. You know the works - a nice house, preferably with a chimney (a remnant of the Santa Claus delusion, perhaps) , garden, fence, mountains in the background, and the rising sun in the background.
Some others worked on their version of a rainy day, boats on a lake(visions of Monet's 'Impressions of Sunrise', perhaps ?), and other such mundane topics. No nudes though, sadly.
Meanwhile, I drew a curtain.
It was simply called 'The Curtain'. Of course, at the time, I wasn't to know that a title of this sort was very much in the tradition of Camus ('The Plague', 'The Outsider'), and Kafka('The Trial', 'The Castle'), not even to mention Rodin('The Thinker'), the work's quality unquestionable and its metaphysical implications immense.
Of course, I was laughed at. Mocked, even. By all the teachers, no less.
I tell you what, though. It might've been just a reddish brown, plain, frilly curtain covering the entire sheet of drawing paper. It didn't seek to blow in the wind, or anything funny like that. It didn't try to portray any showy light effects. Dammit, it may not even have covered a window.
It was, however, without a shadow of a doubt, the classic minimalist work of its time. And it was all mine.
No wonder I turned out so messed up.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Lady luck has a crush on me
Ok, so the grades are out. Suffices to say that today, I believe in good fortune.
The Honey-Bee has my greatest sympathies. Evidently, Lady Luck isn't a lesbian.
The Honey-Bee has my greatest sympathies. Evidently, Lady Luck isn't a lesbian.
Monday, December 12, 2005
hush puppy
So yesterday, I attended the memorial service, or the final rites of passage, if you like, of my recently deceased grandfather. The atmosphere, expectedly, was decidedly sombre, as hushed voices and tear-streaked countenances paid their last respects to the departed soul.
It's funny how death unites families. Mingling with familiar faces were those of long lost relatives - distant uncles and aunts thought to have been swept away by the hands of time to distant, irredeemable pockets of indifference returned, and presumably, disappeared once again to their own lives, so much separated from ours.
Not before a few gems, by way of conversation(for lack of a better word), from patronising, (but i must mention, not unkindly) aunts who exclaimed, in great surprise, ' How could your features change this much ?', and without the merest hint of a snicker, 'MIT next stop, eh ?' , eliciting little more than mumbles in response.
For one so much given to verbosity in private, I'm sadly tongue-tied in any public gathering. After the perfunctory 'hello's and 'fine , thank you's, I slip easily into my now perfected role of quiet-world-watcher, slinking around on the metaphorial tip-toe, unnoticed, and possibly forgotten. And before you know it, it's time to go.
Maybe that's exactly the way some people lead their entire lives. Gone before they know it's time, after spending innumerable years unnoticed, and forgotten.
What a shame.
It's funny how death unites families. Mingling with familiar faces were those of long lost relatives - distant uncles and aunts thought to have been swept away by the hands of time to distant, irredeemable pockets of indifference returned, and presumably, disappeared once again to their own lives, so much separated from ours.
Not before a few gems, by way of conversation(for lack of a better word), from patronising, (but i must mention, not unkindly) aunts who exclaimed, in great surprise, ' How could your features change this much ?', and without the merest hint of a snicker, 'MIT next stop, eh ?' , eliciting little more than mumbles in response.
For one so much given to verbosity in private, I'm sadly tongue-tied in any public gathering. After the perfunctory 'hello's and 'fine , thank you's, I slip easily into my now perfected role of quiet-world-watcher, slinking around on the metaphorial tip-toe, unnoticed, and possibly forgotten. And before you know it, it's time to go.
Maybe that's exactly the way some people lead their entire lives. Gone before they know it's time, after spending innumerable years unnoticed, and forgotten.
What a shame.
Friday, December 09, 2005
home
Is it just me, or does everyone who returns home after a long time get greeted with anguished cries of 'Oh! How could you become this thin ', followed by massive meal after massive meal ?
Going home tonight for the weekend. Promises to be much fun, especially for the tummy.
Going home tonight for the weekend. Promises to be much fun, especially for the tummy.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
the daily prophet
I've been in something of a Harry Potter mood recently. Just finished reading 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (yes, I know that I'm about half a year behind the rest of the world, so don't give me that look) ,and paid my own little daily tribute to movie piracy by watching '..Goblet of Fire' on the computer today.
A few cursory observations, then.
a)Maybe it's just me, or the fact that I already knew who the Prince was, who he kills, and how before the first page was turned, but the sixth book was definitely a disappointment. Not bad, but not quite in the same league as 'Goblet of Fire'. Rather conspicuously lacking even a semblance of a plot within the framework of the big story, it almost reminded of me 'The Matrix Reloaded ', simply trying to set the stage for the grand finale.
b)I suppose that it is a bit difficult to blame the original casting agents for not having the foresight to realize that Emma "Hermione " Watson would grow up to reach, as film critic Roger Ebert put it, the 'cusp of babehood'. It doesn't, however, make me feel very good to keep telling myself that ogling at fifteen-year old adolescents doesn't make for a particularly morally upright temperament.
FIFTEEN, for god's sake.
And don't even let me get started on Fleur Delacour.
c)The Ginny Weasley angle, in the 'The Half-Blood Prince', rather took me by surprise. I always assumed that Rowling would set up something of a love triangle between Harry, Hermione and Ron. Seemed the natural thing to do, no?
d)Oh, and they better give Ron a haircut, not to mention the twins. What is this, the Swinging Sixties ?
e)Full marks for all the bad guys, though. Ralph Fiennes looks deliciously menacing as You-Know-Who; and Mad-Eye-Moody, along with old regulars Snape and Wormtail, is in sparkling, scene-stealing form.
Definitely the best Potter movie, till the next, atleast.
A few cursory observations, then.
a)Maybe it's just me, or the fact that I already knew who the Prince was, who he kills, and how before the first page was turned, but the sixth book was definitely a disappointment. Not bad, but not quite in the same league as 'Goblet of Fire'. Rather conspicuously lacking even a semblance of a plot within the framework of the big story, it almost reminded of me 'The Matrix Reloaded ', simply trying to set the stage for the grand finale.
b)I suppose that it is a bit difficult to blame the original casting agents for not having the foresight to realize that Emma "Hermione " Watson would grow up to reach, as film critic Roger Ebert put it, the 'cusp of babehood'. It doesn't, however, make me feel very good to keep telling myself that ogling at fifteen-year old adolescents doesn't make for a particularly morally upright temperament.
FIFTEEN, for god's sake.
And don't even let me get started on Fleur Delacour.
c)The Ginny Weasley angle, in the 'The Half-Blood Prince', rather took me by surprise. I always assumed that Rowling would set up something of a love triangle between Harry, Hermione and Ron. Seemed the natural thing to do, no?
d)Oh, and they better give Ron a haircut, not to mention the twins. What is this, the Swinging Sixties ?
e)Full marks for all the bad guys, though. Ralph Fiennes looks deliciously menacing as You-Know-Who; and Mad-Eye-Moody, along with old regulars Snape and Wormtail, is in sparkling, scene-stealing form.
Definitely the best Potter movie, till the next, atleast.
Friday, December 02, 2005
from here to eternity
I had just returned to my hostel room, after ingesting the resident cook's very unique version of a special celebratory post-exam lunch, when the cell rang.
It was my mother.
'Your grandfather passed away last night. I didn't want to tell you in the morning beacuse I thought it would spoil your mood for your exam.'
What can i say? The exams are finally over now, and after a fortnight of stressing out and sleeplessness , all i can do is sit back, allow the tears to fall and wonder whose turn it is going to be next.
Thanks for everything, grand-daddy. For making my childhood wonderful, for teaching me all the right things, for the summer vacations spent loitering around discussing any matter that took my fancy, for helping me grow up in a world where i never felt deprived of anything, a place that is now just a fragmented, disjointed memory of a bygone time.
And now you are gone. Gone to join grandma.
You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye.
Rest in Peace. I love you.
It was my mother.
'Your grandfather passed away last night. I didn't want to tell you in the morning beacuse I thought it would spoil your mood for your exam.'
What can i say? The exams are finally over now, and after a fortnight of stressing out and sleeplessness , all i can do is sit back, allow the tears to fall and wonder whose turn it is going to be next.
Thanks for everything, grand-daddy. For making my childhood wonderful, for teaching me all the right things, for the summer vacations spent loitering around discussing any matter that took my fancy, for helping me grow up in a world where i never felt deprived of anything, a place that is now just a fragmented, disjointed memory of a bygone time.
And now you are gone. Gone to join grandma.
You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye.
Rest in Peace. I love you.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Saturday, November 26, 2005
apocalypse now
Mon : Digital Signal Processing
Tue : Statistical Physics
Wed : Solid State Devices
Thur : Dynamical Systems
Fri : Operations Research
The horror, the horror.
And what's more, my tooth hurts.
Not just any old tooth. My wisdom tooth.
Maybe, a couple of days before the exams commence, i should consider that as a sign of some sort, a portentous omen foretelling my impending doom.
Tue : Statistical Physics
Wed : Solid State Devices
Thur : Dynamical Systems
Fri : Operations Research
The horror, the horror.
And what's more, my tooth hurts.
Not just any old tooth. My wisdom tooth.
Maybe, a couple of days before the exams commence, i should consider that as a sign of some sort, a portentous omen foretelling my impending doom.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
a show of hands
If there's one thing that i really don't get, it's people who eat pizza with knives and fork.
For god's sake!
A pizza is meant to be touched by searching fingers, felt up, its nether regions caressed, and after the taste-bud stimulating preliminaries, gently bitten into - thin, long noodle straps of mozzarella and dripping sauce only heightening the already unbearable pleasure of weakly submitting to the evil embrace of junk food.
For god's sake!
A pizza is meant to be touched by searching fingers, felt up, its nether regions caressed, and after the taste-bud stimulating preliminaries, gently bitten into - thin, long noodle straps of mozzarella and dripping sauce only heightening the already unbearable pleasure of weakly submitting to the evil embrace of junk food.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Crystal ball
On nights like these, I sometimes get the nasty feeling that I will turn out like that.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Gregor Samsa ?
Somebody asked me the other day, in the midst of the sort of asinine conversation that I tend to indulge in daily, if I thought I had changed even a little bit after entering college.
Given my propensity for brushing truly thought-provoking matters under the mental carpet, I instantly replied that I hadn't , with a shake of the head and a flutter of the eyelashes.
(Incidentally, I have been informed that my eyelashes are very long. How people make such observations is beyond me, but I digress).
Though not quite all weird and wonderful, my two years here have been very eventful. Considering the wide spectrum of experiences I have had, from seeing drunken men teetering(quite literally) on the brinks of terraces for the very first time, to finding mashed cockroaches in my lunch, I wouldn't believe it entirely inappropriate if i generously borrowed from classic literature to describe the Dickensian montage of happenings that i have had the (mis?)fortune of being touched by.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way"
It is impossibe, I contend, to remain the same in such circumstances, surrounded by such individuals. Before you know it, you are a different man.
1)It seems like an eternity ago that I stepped into the campus for the first time , armed with a plastic smile, a suitcase of neatly pressed clothes, and an idealistic fervour. I only retain one of those now. One-and-a-half, perhaps.
2) I don't remember ever being really unhappy growing up. Even if I sometimes morosely observed as a young teenager that all great creative artistes seemed to have suffered deeply in some profound manner, my childhood was essentially beautiful.
Wish i could say the same of the last two years.
3)This might sound strange, but if anything, i am much more ethical than i was before joining college. I have come to dislike the careless way people here flout basic norms, from copying in exams to getting around the fairly light attendance requirements by forging signatures.
4)In school, for whatever reason, I considered myself to be some sort of genius, the promising bud just waiting to grow into the blooming flower that would be embraced by the world.
Not anymore.
5)I am now a bonafide movie-freak. From anime to neo-realism to fantasy, I've begun my journey to seeing it all. Movies were never a past-time of mine as a kid, and if there is one thing I am really thankful to my college for, it is for inculcating a love for the moving image.
One day, maybe, after a night of uneasy dreaming, I will find myself transformed into a gigantic insect.
P.S
I feel prodigiously talkative today.
It must be the eclipse.
Given my propensity for brushing truly thought-provoking matters under the mental carpet, I instantly replied that I hadn't , with a shake of the head and a flutter of the eyelashes.
(Incidentally, I have been informed that my eyelashes are very long. How people make such observations is beyond me, but I digress).
Though not quite all weird and wonderful, my two years here have been very eventful. Considering the wide spectrum of experiences I have had, from seeing drunken men teetering(quite literally) on the brinks of terraces for the very first time, to finding mashed cockroaches in my lunch, I wouldn't believe it entirely inappropriate if i generously borrowed from classic literature to describe the Dickensian montage of happenings that i have had the (mis?)fortune of being touched by.
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way"
It is impossibe, I contend, to remain the same in such circumstances, surrounded by such individuals. Before you know it, you are a different man.
1)It seems like an eternity ago that I stepped into the campus for the first time , armed with a plastic smile, a suitcase of neatly pressed clothes, and an idealistic fervour. I only retain one of those now. One-and-a-half, perhaps.
2) I don't remember ever being really unhappy growing up. Even if I sometimes morosely observed as a young teenager that all great creative artistes seemed to have suffered deeply in some profound manner, my childhood was essentially beautiful.
Wish i could say the same of the last two years.
3)This might sound strange, but if anything, i am much more ethical than i was before joining college. I have come to dislike the careless way people here flout basic norms, from copying in exams to getting around the fairly light attendance requirements by forging signatures.
4)In school, for whatever reason, I considered myself to be some sort of genius, the promising bud just waiting to grow into the blooming flower that would be embraced by the world.
Not anymore.
5)I am now a bonafide movie-freak. From anime to neo-realism to fantasy, I've begun my journey to seeing it all. Movies were never a past-time of mine as a kid, and if there is one thing I am really thankful to my college for, it is for inculcating a love for the moving image.
One day, maybe, after a night of uneasy dreaming, I will find myself transformed into a gigantic insect.
P.S
I feel prodigiously talkative today.
It must be the eclipse.
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