Friday, December 31, 2004

'tis the last day of the year! Await 2005 and other tales...

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

In vacuous ignorance and empty boredom I write of things that do not seem real except in the capricious self-centered hole of my soul. That even rhymes.

Of photographs and memories held tight in a closed fist, ready to punch any thought that dares defy the hallowed notion of past time. K is my father and M is a Goddess; what then remains of I? If there is any concept like that in the first place. After all, my father is also the idol of God. If God is the only reality there is, after who we are all named and soldered, then why do we float unanchored and broken up? Why can we not be bound as spokes to the hub and balloons to the thread? Why must we fly in vertigo and fear?

I cannot pretend to like this life any longer. It’s too much effort. Red is boring and I hate roller coaster rides. I have seen too many sunsets and cannot gape in wonder at the moon or the twilight or earthquakes or sandstorms. Flowers wither and fruits rot and after a while, even hunger is consumptive. I do not want to be eaten up by myself. It is all a gaping mistake and an accident of probability and I do not like it.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Things are generally good and I doubt I'll have anything to say before the end of the year. Anything significant that is. Except of course that I am so glad my friends are around for the winter. With all their idiosyncrasies, whimsies, problems, neuroses and wonderful world-views. And I mean that.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Are there any real turning points or are there just imagined markers created for ourselves that we go on to immortalise as 'there where we turned' ? I'd like to think that yesterday was a turning point but I know with the surety of practice and the wisdom of statistical trend analysis that those are just random epiphanies, perfectly reversable and absolutely unreliable. On such disclaimers are safety nets built. Blow the horn, run the fire drill and wear your helmet. The world is such a dangerous place I tell you...

Wednesday, December 01, 2004 imagination refuses to succumb to any material understanding of home. Or understanding even. It's all up in the air. People, places, memories and markers. My sight will not confirm and my mind will not let go. I am struggling to make sense and sense is not common anymore.

Is this why I study anthropology? In a desperate attempt to objectify that which I can neither fathom nor reject? Objectification they say is blasphemy, but blasphemous we are who seek distance. Distance that glints but cannot glare. Arm's length, that which is within touching distance and yet must not be touched. A ban in the service of sanity.

Five future papers -

1. The dance bars of Bombay
2. My grandfather (pls. note, grandfather not grandmother)
3. Industrial townships and their structures of governmentality
4. Tourism and Branding
5. Silences of the Self

It's all for sale...elusive as the prices may's all debatable, despicable and discardable. The products of individual and collective voyeurism and the montage of bored vision.
Cannot sleep and cannot stop the bloody dreams! Groan, moan, damn bloody hell!!!

Monday, November 29, 2004

Sorry about the random disappearing acts, too much frigging work and then of course there was that period with no work which again causes problems because I have nothing to write about. Excuses notwithstanding, it's been a good Thanksgiving break. I caught up on some non-academic reading and bummed around doing almost nothing. Did go to San Antonio on a mindless, free-falling, see friggin' Shamu drive. Was so much fun! Can I be a sea-whale in my next life and do nothing but somersault and eat fish? Oops, correction, 'killer' whale...
Also had a good conference in Frisco a few weeks back which went off fairly well, truth be told. I do get the hang of academia once in a blue-moon while apparently. What I really enjoyed was walking up and down downtown SF, peeping into every art gallery, pretending that I could afford it all. Some of it was startlingly beautiful and incredibly sensory. Cities are good for me, I need to get out of this hippie-town, much as I love it too.
Books and beauty, drives and dilemmas...I need more more, friggin' more! I am bored!!!

Sunday, October 24, 2004

You can tell a lot about a person from the things they google.
My last five...

4.Bride and Prejudice
3. Sweet and Lowdown
2. Zuchini tomato parsley recipe
1. AAA Hilton labour dispute
It's half past three in the morning. The party just ended. I had such a good time. Dance, music, booze and boys. Care to add to that list?

Friday, October 22, 2004

But it's the mind that kills
the animal the mexicanos murmur
killing it would have been a mercy
black horse running in the dark
came thundering toward
the outstretched hands
nostrils flared at the smell
only it was knives in the hidden hands
did it pray all night for morning?

- Borderlands/ La Frontera, Gloria AnzaldĂșa

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Twenty five thousand three hundred and thirty seven conflicting views are bad for my paper, equilibrium and sanity. Trashy Hindi music, strawberry cheesecake and wine are highly recommended. Excuse me while I clean up various dustbins and incoherencies.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

I want to do something else this December, I don't know what, but I know I'd rather it be an else. Travel, wander, walk, anything but the same old thing. And then of course I want to be in Cyprus...Anybody have any viable suggestions?

Thursday, October 14, 2004

New papers, new lives! Another one breathing down my neck and I have a day and a night to cross the finish line. Final edits and it's gone 'down' from eighteen to twenty!!! What in the name of the twenty five thousand three hundred and thirty eight Gods of the Hindu pantheon do I do?

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

Narcotics cannot still the tooth
That nibbles at the soul

- Emily Dickinson

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

The future and the past that must always be sieved through the present before they can be harnessed into the project of being. And in this interplay of hierarchy and conditionality, my brains stand muddled. In a hazy, unstructured, haphazard manner, it makes sense as all chaos does. It is a good book. And it claims to write about violence. And in a manner it does. Between lucid and lurid, its work is complete. And I need to be able to think about it in a manner befitting perpetrator and victim alike.

Music plays, lights shine, kettle whistles. Between my world and that, a few hundred thousand miles and some. Time, place, space, nothing matches. My anachronisms are complete.
I do not feel like doing any of the work that I HAVE to do. Distractions,distractions, that's what are needed as of the moment. Just finished watching 'Pirates of the Caribbean', Depp's a living joy. Think I'll go read now. Not that that will help to fashion any sort of active energy but it's still a better alternative to stewing and brewing into an ugly dumpling. Boredom, my only nemesis. The art of passing time. If only somebody offered a course in that, I'd take it right through my PhD.

Monday, October 11, 2004

On the road at night, it almost doesn't seem to matter which country I am in. The darkness covers, lulls and plays mellifluous ditties and neon signs. The weather was beautiful. The clouds slung low and the sun poised between a claret and a burnt sienna. I could see the long row of cars right upto the horizon and sprawling fields to either side. Sometimes, everything seems like a blessing.

And now I am back home, grading and staring. I need a drink. Kahlua, Merlot or Shiraz? What will your posion be?

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Somewhere there is a meandering sense of a particular destiny that doesn't seem to bear any relationship with actuality. Am I seeing too much or am I not seeing? The difference has blurred and merged in with the rest of the undifferentiables. All my five senses are strained to catch some sign of the signifier. The sixth unfortunately is on permanent vacation. Significance therefore must remain forever elusive. And I have papers to write and re-write, books to review and theories to analyze. No wonder I am going fey.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

I am reading. And writing. And teaching. And yet there is not enough activity to stop the doubting. What will I be when I grow up? More importantly should I be or should I grow?

Sunday, October 03, 2004

I have a kick-ass bi g-ass stereo now!!! Yay Yay Yay!!! There's music in my life all over again. Not to mention clean clothes. Yes, it was the day of chores, errands, tasks and all those things that re-insert normality into my otherwise neurotic existence. I also made parathas. Am finally getting the hang of the 'roti' thingie. Which reminds me I need to go eat them sometime soon before they rip into wheaty seems.

I'm a happy humming elf today!!! Hindi roadside tunes no less!

Playlist- Oct 3, 2004:
Gur Nal Ishq Mitha
Gustakhiyan Hai
Dil Mein Kuch Ho Raha Hai
Aika Dajiba
Chandu Ke Chacha Ne
Ae Zindagi Gale Laga Le
She Will be Loved
Harder to Breathe
When I'm Sixty-Four
Laila Laila
Ankhiyan Nu Chain Na Aave

And no there's no logic in that sequence fellas!

Friday, October 01, 2004

The talk went better than I hoped it would. The panel was interesting as was the audience. Engaging, lively, involved and appreciative. Of course, all the people that I knew being there made a big difference. And it made me think a little...about how I keep reconfiguring and reveling in my role as a debutante every single term..and about how I might not be able to pull it off for much longer...

But I like what I do and I liked what I said. My inherent dislike for disjunctive theory notwithstanding, I definitely am learning to play. Even though I don’t know all the rules yet. But I will...and of course in the manner of productive power, they’ll make new ones...
Ah well...

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Yesterday I had too little to say, today I have too much. And no, I am not talking about the blog. It's my friggin', bloodsucking, curmudgeonly paper on my mind! I have to find a way to love this thing else I'll botch it up beyond salvage. Cross your fingers and toes for me.

And on other fronts...and my fingers have been poised over the keyboard for only all of the last ten minutes and I figure there is nothing happening on other fronts. Send a little bit of nerve-wracking, synapse-bending excitement my way and I promise to return the favour.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Offshoring, outsourcing, captive, contract, blah blah blah! My head is spinning, feels like I'm back at work again. I need to play...

Sunday, September 26, 2004

Been a wonderful weekend so far. Sarod concert, dinner, movie....and now of course it's time to grade papers! My usual Sunday afternoon, 'let's do this while I am still well fed and in a good mood' task. One more hour and then it's back to conference blues. A whole shelf of unintelligible books is staring me in the fce. I have the skeleton of my paper in place and no flesh and blood to fill in the blankness, the black and white empty nothingness...which is where borrowed erudition dating back a few hundred years and accounting for no less than a hundred thousand pages falls into place. I need to convince myself of the temporary effectiveness of planning, foresight and prediction...

'If you want God to laugh, tell Him your plans...'

And even at the risk of being accused of perpetuating misogyny, I must admit that a lot of other things besides love are bitches.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Academics is definitely not a business for bleeding hearts. So scary to stand where the high-and-mighty of modern civic society meet everyday to purge their minds of fallacy and fault. Clean,neat and surgical; eager to stem the blood. Precision and focus, all brilliantly orchestrated to come together in the ever pleasing crescendo of truth, beauty and coherence. God bless them all.

I came so far for beauty I left so much behind
My patience and my family My masterpiece unsigned

We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky,
and lost among the subway crowds I try to catch your eye.

Happy Birthday Leo

Monday, September 20, 2004

Airports and stopovers. Where nobody talks and everybody’s in permanent liminality . My favourite word that. Liminality. Anthropology’s waiting lounge. Victor Turner and liminality. That’s the funny thing about this field though. Words come attached to their proponents. Their puny claim to creation. No brands, buildings or bridges. Just words. It is but a scavenger’s profession after all. Pick, discard, clean, sell. And why do I do it? Because I can do nothing else. Cannot climb or run or tend. I can walk, watch and make patchwork quilts. I am also very good at being audience. I could probably make a profession of that too.

Friday, September 17, 2004

Waiting, watching, wanting...on the brink of the discovery that there is nothing to be found. It is one of those hot, humid, summer days when the weather drips into your body and lulls it into the lust for indifference.

Inactive. Indifferent. Invulnerable.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

To Tirzah
Whate'er is Born of Mortal Birth
Must be Consumed with the Earth
To rise from Generation Free
Then what Have I to do with Thee?
The Sexes Sprung from Shame and Pride
Blow'd in the Morn; in evening Died
But Mercy Chang'd Death into Sleep
The Sexes rose to Work and Weep
Thou Mother of my Mortal Part
with Cruelty Didst Mould my Heart
And with False, self-Deceiving tears
Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes and Ears
Didst close my mouth with senseless clay
And me to Mortal life Betray
The Death of Jesus set me free:
Then what have I to do with Thee?
- William Blake

...between 'self-annihilating fusion and impermeable individuality'

I think I do like school

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Life's full to the brim and some. This cup I am afraid will need to stretch its neck some more for the tea to stay in. Am having masala chai as we speak. Speaking of course being metaphorical for the kind of disjunctive, removed, protected lives that you and me the world revel in creating.
And abstractions are so cool.

I attended a talk by this lady yesterday. Very interesting and wonderful food for thought. Unfortunately it gets digested and ejected faster than most of my papers, useless as the latter may be. It is the classic antithesis, thought and action. That activists would want to associate with academics seems at one turn naive and at the other idealistic and yet in my rare moments of low-volume cynicism I might even be willing to concede effort if not effectivity.

I have three chapters of secular pontification for the night. Life if not good is nevertheless long.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

It's been a fun weekend so far. Party-hopping Friday night and sleeping right through Saturday. So Sunday's staring me in the entrails and threatening to pull them out. Grading papers, reading notes, writing worlds. Normal, steady, calm and quiet....I am getting nervous about all this new-found domestication. Is this what they call growing up?

Monday, September 06, 2004

Is this the end, my friend?
Nopes, nada, nyet...not by a mile. Truth be told, I just got lazy. Like most explanations of life in general and love in particular, random, true, simple and straight. And then I wonder why I go around in circles and waste time configuring the peripherals. Habit, conditioning and all the good stuff I guess...

But now is the time to shake off the slumber, roll my sleeves and rant.

Am back in Austin, back in grad school and back to academic angst. Tis a good life me darlings...
More soon. How have all you wonderful people been?

Sunday, June 20, 2004

In the mood for rains, bubbles, rainbows and narcissism...

You are ACID. You are one trippy dude. Even
though you're a total weirdo, the world needs
people like you. You are able to see the
silver lining in every cloud, the rainbow after
every storm, and the polka-dotted rabbit in
your living room.
Albert Einstein once said that imagination is more
important than knowledge.I think he was
talking about you.

Which Illicit Drug Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Monday, May 10, 2004

It's half past four in the morning and I have been awake all of forty eight hours. The last paragraph of my second last paper reads,

'The text stops at death. Death may be considered at one level as essentially marked by its non-narratability, by its rupture of language.'

I always knew that I have an element of latent morbidity dying to be announced...Forgive me for I know not what I say. Lesser coffee and more sleep and the world will be on its feet again. Actually the view's not too bad upside-down.

Saturday, May 08, 2004

Heteronomy: (n.) A term applied by Kant to those laws which are imposed on us from without, or the violence done to us by our passions, wants, or desires.

Tuesday, May 04, 2004

I am tired. All I want to do is go home for a while. And leave my brains on the sixth floor of the Perry Castaneda Library. Nestled in between the cubicles with the electric outlets and the sofa that looks out onto the grass. Leave it there and beg it not to think in my absence. For that is and has always been my undoing. The racing ahead of time and the careful construction of brittle scenarios. My only excuse being that maybe all the construction will make its way to a relatively controlled reality. Fat friggin chance!

Not happening, not now, not soon, maybe not ever. And pay no attention because this day and this week is the fractal that plays itself out every once in a rare frequency. And I am tired. And I am going home. In two weeks' time...

Monday, May 03, 2004

I am in a strange state of liminality. Papers hovering like Damocles' army no less. And none seem to have any end in sight. But it'll come together. Oh yes, it will....and or least, that's what half the town said....the half that I called up last night to whine to, that is.

But today and tomorrow might just be illuminating in other ways...other non-academic decisive ways...ways I dare not contemplate and ways I cannot help but speculate...nothing fits and I doubt any of it will...and I know with the clear 20/20 vision of reason and logic that the only answer is 'nada, no way, uhuh, nil'...but but but

Liminality my and aporia...

Sunday, April 25, 2004

My favourite 'phirang'isms of all time!
Like you know maybe awesome great... ....Ah don't know....

Grrr, of course you don't know! You have just uttered whole sentences of staccato syllables encompassing your opinion on the entire mass of hegemonic cultures and their vituperative consequences...but God forbid somebody pin you down or hold you accountable....and hence.....(drumroll)...

pause....full stop....stutter....murmur....ah don't know.....!!

Monday, April 19, 2004

It is not a just world we live in. And I am just another inept academic. Just another of that random bunch who wallow in their sensitivity and sensibly stick to writing about it.

Not fair. Not fair at all.
Break that pen and tear that hair.

It is not a just world we live in.

Thursday, April 15, 2004

It was a lovely sunny day and I ran away from a philosophy class and made eyes at men in the coffee shop. The sun shone. The rain fell. In turns. And I sat there stripping and layering myself in tune with the weather beat. A nice little ditty we played. The sky and I.

Saturday, April 10, 2004

Activity on this site has been few and far between. Nothing to say and too much work offline. I am genuinely beginning to doubt my ability to live through academia. The language eludes me, nothing I say seems not to have been said before and I am constantly scavenging to make sense. Foolish exercises of conformity. I need to make a clean break and start writing like I have a clear thread of thought and action. Not yet, hasn't happened yet. I am struggling to keep a threshold level of interest. And I am struggling to evade boredom and downright dismissal.

More depressing thoughts later, I have to go kiss ass.

Sunday, March 28, 2004

I saw this movie today…and it was about people in love….or not…and it had a plot. Of people plotting. And they mapped the conspiracies of their lives in careful acts of random care. And tried desperately to bridge the roads of intent and act. No correlation there if you ask me. And I could do that for you. Stalk your life with dissembled nonchalance. Watch the curve of your skin. Mark it on the maps of my right brain. And shut the door on my left. I could do that.

Friday, March 26, 2004

We went to look for an apartment. And why is that so important? Because we have to live somewhere I guess. More importantly, we have to know where we live. Park Street or Lake Boulevard? North or South? House or apartment? Duplex or studio? Single or non-single? Smoking or non-smoking? And then we situate ourselves within this multi-matrix. This cacophony of planes and parameters. And dismiss from our world-view those that conform to other meanings and other matrices. Dismiss, differentiate, categorize.

Where was I? Apartments. People don’t live in houses here as much as they live in other places. Coffee shops, workplaces, bars, gyms and libraries. They don’t care about being seen, but they make sure that they are. And they carve themselves out a little bit of private space in these public spaces. An area of non-confrontation. An oasis of self. Touch-me-not and beware of dog.

Smile at all you see else they’ll wonder at the unhappiness of your private universe. Misery attracts audience, happiness is left alone. Stare no more lest you be sued for intrusion. Drive carefully, pay your taxes and wash your blinkers lest they fray.

The rules, the rules. The sea, the sea.

Monday, March 22, 2004

End of spring break, time to get back on my feet. It ended beautifully though, had a party for friends from my department. The weatherman predicted rain and cloud, but the sun played hooky and shone right into our faces. There was music (loud and Hindi), food and bonhomie and I didn't have to play hostess. People made themselves comfortable and I had a great time.

It's nice to know these people. The department is really eclectic and there are students from all over the world...N.America, Europe, Central Europe, the Middle East, South Asia, South East Asia, name it, we have it...and the things they do never fail to make me want to settle in an inconspicuous corner and fade away into obscurity. Learn languages, travel strange countries, live with people far from their understanding and strive to understand. Beautiful people they...

Me? I just want to go home sometime.

Did I mention we also watched this without subtitles?;)

Saturday, March 20, 2004

Now that I have a brand new swanky suit, I guess there are no more excuses to rely on. Write I must and rant I will...
All of today has dissipated in preparations for the 'thing' tomorrow...getting a bunch of friends over at my place to eat, drink and waste away the last day of spring break, also screening 'Sholay' to a varied set of cultural specimens (have to check on the damn DVD for subtitles, else I'll end up being one of those irritating people in the theatre that talk along with every scene worth being silent for!)...

Spring break's been beautifully enlightening, cleared away some month-old cobwebs, visited family and was away camping. Course it wasn't much of a camp...we got stormed out and had to sleep huddled in the vans, but well, no complaints. Did get a tan anyway and announced it nice and loud to other people on the east coast still suffering from the waning influences of winter's whims (Holidays always make me alliterative). I think I like Texas.

Also got an acceptance for a conference here...I am beginning to imbibe academia.Stockholm Syndrome wouldn't you say?On other fronts, have a paper due every other day from next week, have to change apartments next month and complete a whole load of paperwork before I take off to....................................................................................................

(Watch the space me dahlings;))

Friday, March 19, 2004

Love thou thy dream
All base love scorning,
Love thou the wind
And here take warning
That dreams alone can truly be,
For 'tis in dream I come to thee.

- Song, Ezra Pound ( "A Lume Spento", 1908)
The deed is done, the task nailed, the door opened and the breeze courted.
Welcome to my world:)
Site under construction, bear with the bleddy mess me hearties!

Thursday, March 18, 2004

I want to let the universe sweep over my head and drown me into claustrophobia.

Friday, March 05, 2004

I need earthing…yes, I do…nothing seems to pass through me. It enters, festers and grows. It’s like the time I accidentally took a drug overdose and I could feel every leaf in the wind rattling my veins. Now it’s the people. Under my skin. There has to be some plausible, probable escape. Too much too soon. Her and him and them and thus…

The intolerability of their lives is weighing down my spine and if this seems eerie and morbid, then maybe it is…maybe this shall not pass and maybe this is the truth…if you tell me otherwise, please provide evidence…solid, impenetrable proof…for I have lost the ability of belief at the altar of reason and daylight.

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Do you remember the taste of the end of the rope? When you tether in the hope of redemption and believe that it will come?...against all odds...against all logic...turning its back to reason and praying with open eyes...?

I can taste it now...

Thursday, February 26, 2004

And in the east
The dawn was breaking
And the world was waking
Any dream will do.

- Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

Monday, February 23, 2004

I have a hundred and one new projects in mind. And no motivation to do the background research. Somebody just pay me to get onto the field! I promise I will immerse myself in the darkest regions of the highest floors of the tallest libraries all of Fall 2004!

Sunday, February 22, 2004

People are dying, killing, raping, looting and pillaging. Others are cooking, sleeping, talking, running. Still others are stopping, staring and starving. Such a miasma of ultimately useless activity. Like passing time between the cradle and the grave, the former never of your making and the latter most often not. Like being told to play till your parent/ parents comes/come to collect you. The uneasy in-between that’s tolerable as long as you do not run out of things to do.

I was on the bus to school yesterday and I watched the driver create his place of work. Entered the bus with a large backpack and a spray-can of stain remover. Proceeded to haul it off his back, set it gently down and got to work on a 5 x 5 space centered around the steering wheel. Fine detergent mists on a 5 second overhaul. A sweep of the dustcloth, a fine adjustment of the seat levers to his precise comfort levels, a wide grin into the rearview mirror and the hum of the engine. It is such a pleasure to watch people at work.

And how do I resolve the micro and the macro, the universal and the particular, this daily battle of meaning? That which is so inane at the level of mankind and so beautiful at the level of the infinitesimal. God does apparently lie in the details. Either that or life is truly elsewhere.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

One true sentence a day. Hemingway must write one true sentence a day, the truest he ever knew. And the day will be done. And he will be able to write again.

I on the contrary have lost the ability to distinguish the true from the want-it-to-be-true. And this from one who prides herself on her objectivity, pragmatism, clarity and will-call-bluff-and-scoff-in-face countenance. And yes I know the truth. Lie I cannot. But the truth I will not tell. Because I can only live on the precipice of reality, the gap that permits the fine balance. Jump I will not and fall I dare not.

I am going to curl into bed and cover myself like a corpse. And I was thinking of other worse days and scarier circumstances. When I couldn't see and wasn't sure if I would be able to. When people around me had patience, warmth and soft voices.
Today I was thinking of her...conversations, alcohol, music...road trips, cooking, shopping and cleaning...haggling, choosing, lying and stealing...I miss you gurl.
I am very very very frustrated. It seems to be one of those things-will-not-go-your-way weeks. And I hate it. Hate it from the bottom of my monologic, underlined, control-freak existence. I hate it. I did say that before, didn't I? Well, I'm saying it again. Hate it. And I'm bored and annoyed with coping. All I want to do right now is kick up my heels and throw them at somebody. The way the trends are going, I'll probably miss by a mile.

A wise friend once lent me a tale. He said that the biggest mistake I could ever make was to make somebody else's story my story. I am what I am and it has nothing to do with what anybody else is. But the problem is that I want what I want and it has everything to do with what somebody else doesn't. It is not as bubble-trapped as I would like it to be. I crave to be Tolstoy and should ideally want to be Dostoevsky, but all I can ever be is folklore, street-rabble and shadow play. These polyphonic voices are bursting my eardrums and threatening my sanity.

Is a craving an addiction? Is an addiction a vice? Is a vice simply the 'other' to a virtue? Will you buy me a ticket to the asylum?

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

I wake up every morning (close to noon actually) and add a few more minutes of sleep to a routine I can ill-afford. Time to get back to lesser sleep and more wide-eyed exhaustion. But these few minutes are my miracle moments, those tiny gaps between dreams and daylight, the revital pills that keep the cynicism at bay, my five-minute magic eyes. My camera to an almost-perfect world. Believable hopes, naive grins and loud laughter. All that in in five minutes. Not bad even if I say so myself:).

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

And it's all happening at the zoo...

Things are moving...not in rapid-fire staccato bursts, but warm-up speeds are definitely heralding a not-so-unpleasant run...people getting married, others not-so-sure, some stationary in their new-found stillness, others sprinting to god-knows-what finale...

And I am going to eat my cereal and walk to the gym.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

A little bit of patience left...shall I save it for a rainy day? I have been waiting, fasting and learning...and I'm getting Hesse wrong here, but I obviously have a long way to go. The more I see life on a linear continuum, the easier I see it slipping away...

But I get back on my feet...with a little help from my friends:)

Sunday, February 08, 2004

The best I can do is preserve moments. No point hanging onto whole spheres of experience. I still have a problem with the 'live in the moment' philosophy but I have decided to have a good time nevertheless. Or I think.

Was a beautiful day yesterday. Carted a pillow and a rug to the lawns next to the library and read in the sun, soaking in the wind. Was far more productive than I have been all month. I am reading a ton of human rights theory all within the context of general priniciples of inapplicability and utopianism. Or 'necessary utopia' as Rawls labels it. I think I should be able to have a valid viewpoint in a month or so. Right now the groundwork is keeping me busy.

Such a hedonistic life, the luxury of contemplation without the necessity of action...

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
And I say it’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Friday, February 06, 2004

This then is the end of the truth as we know it. Give me a weekend and I'll be back on my feet. I need 72 hours of dreamless sleep.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

When it rains, it truly pours!
Hit me one more time and I swear I'll punch you right back...
You can photograph your black eye and blue bruises and frame them for all I care!

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

My sanity is never outside of myself. If only I could stop pacing long enough to remember that!
Fiction is the only truth
Illusion the sole reality

In drugged, drunken sleep we dream
Of things that are and may have been

Monday, February 02, 2004

I don't read too much of fiction anymore. I hardly have enough time to read what I ought to be reading. And even that seems to be all that I do. Survey words, analyze them in the vacuousness of my ignorance and disseminate their pre-decided importance. I even talk like them now. In words bigger than my name and syllables with more weight than meaning. And yes, it all comes together every once in a while. And yes, they all are convenient fictions that we conspirators choose to believe.

And I am mixing my stances.
Some like it hot, some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot, nine days old...

Reading a gorgeous piece of fiction right now. Gorgeous gorgeous slutty melancholic fragmented broken macabre life.
Go pick up 'White Noise'...
Sitting in the library, working on a presentation that I am not sure I want to make, mainly because I have forgotten what I started out wanting to say in the first place. Happens to me all the time. This presentation however is an anthropologist's perspective on blogging. How much more convoluted can it get???

Not to worry, four more years and I definitely will end up fooling myself into another fine mess;), right now it's a not-so-fine mess. Sophistication lacking in all its perverse forms. I need another coat of paint (mother-of-pearl finish no less). Understated, elegant and conducive to the soft light that will surely ruin my eyes.
Good morning Monday! How soon do you think you can leave?

Sunday, February 01, 2004

And this is then the afternoon of my discontent. My inability to judge and my unwillingness to leave.

Friday, January 30, 2004

A little bit of conversation always clears up the air. Only to await further smog. It's a thin line I'm traipsing here. And I wonder if it's ever going to be any different.

The problem is that there are always multiple strategies to further the illusion. And maintain decorum. And freeze frame. And nothing wrong with that, except that it requires a constant investment of inclination. Which so far I have found the resources to make...anybody's guess how long it will last. I personally would like to raise the stakes before I make an effort. As somebody remarked long years ago, I like to play with the big boys;).

Tuesday, January 27, 2004

Life is a fiction we tell other people...

Friday, January 23, 2004

I could do this. I really could. A hundred times over till it seeps into the pores in an indelible histology. And why would I do that? Because all it takes is a little practice. An appearance of ease and the familiarity of touch. Can I lead you through it again? That oft-repeated litany, that much-maligned tale. Will I have an audience at the end of it? Or is that like everything else impermanent and replaceable, the victim of the demand curve and the whim of a value proposition? May it be…because erase I cannot and forget I must not.

God, such a melodrama, such a story about nothingness. And in the next breath I will counter and make an insurgent plea for the value of my kind of nothingness. Not yours, never yours. Yours I will knock down with the surety of reason and the arrogance of audience. The benefits of being on the outside you see are as much mine as yours.

….could I be a little more specific? Of course not, that would spoil it all.

A story about all the right things though. The impossibility of ‘love’, the predictability of path and the implications of boredom. And it starts off beautifully, like all good stories do, in the most describable of weathers. Bitter cold, beautifully white and a rare neatness. The particularity and specificity of nature. Things in symmetry, colours in place and clarity in horizon. That is the kind of nature that lulls you into believing that it extends to all things purveyed by man, woman and dog. Not so, definitely not so. It might work…in rare instances if you have the perseverance to block sight and fog your glasses. I, unfortunately have had laser surgery.

So it starts and so it went on, in conscious abandon and unrelenting blindness. Or am I being too hard on the protagonists? Yes I am. Let’s face it, was happy while it was, marvelous actually. Like the taxis in the Bombay monsoon. Like motorbikes cruising through the valley. Like the mud splats on my jeans. And the Chinese food. And the key-chains. And the history. And the fibs. Carefully constructed, meticulously ‘alibi’ed.

Then why the angst? Because it’s not around you see. And what is, is ‘nice’, just plain, simple ‘apple-pie’ nice, linear and flat. It explains itself. It leaves nothing to construction and imagery. It falls into place. So boring.

What I’d like is for life to run all around the place and evade reason. I’d like it to live outside its plans and paths. I’d like it to fly and fall and scrape its knees. I’d like my life to be outside my directorial talents. To surprise me every day and take pleasure in my wide eyes. It used to. It really did used to. And then I got scared. And gave it up. And now I want it back again.
In a bit of a situation...

I think I have replayed this in my head for a very long time now. And for all clean logic, this is how it should be. Fast, unfeeling and distant. But the distance does not reduce the impact. Still pulls no punches. Still draws blood.

A little blood-letting is always good for the fever though.

Time to get up and get going. Work calls and so do other diversionary tactics. Such a funny game...

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

Sorry people, just one those days, the 'validate me' ones...

You are blessed with faery wings. Beauty, laughter, life, magic...that's what you are all about. You are refreshingly innocent and happy with your life of purity and play. Life's a game and it's a good one. In your eyes there's no way to lose! You can be very mischeivous and have been known to cause trouble, but it's all in the name of fun and not meant to really harm anyone. You like to play tricks on people who aren't quite as bright or clever as you - which is almost everyone. Nature is the setting you prefer to be in - Always. Barefoot and wild you can't be tamed. You're probably a restless spirit who loves to travel, and quite a dreamer. Your creativity is astounding and your art (of whatever media - from writing to painting to drama) is like something from another world - ethereal. You can either be a social butterfly or a loner with their head in the clouds - but rarely inbetween. You stubbornly refuse to accept responsibility or to give in to the wishes of others - unless you feel like it. You have a strong passion for music and can't imagine life without it. You'll grow up someday, but you'll always be a child at heart. You are adventurous and love to take risks, and feel a deep connection with the weather, plants, and animals. You prefer sunshine to thunder or snow, the warmth of summer to autumn's chill, and quiet forests to suburban backyards. Magic through and through, you are far more powerful than you seem, and are capable of being extremely passionate. Though you can be childish, naive, stubborn, and self-absorbed, one thing is certain - life with you will never be boring!

*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

Monday, January 19, 2004

It's not good to care this much about myself. It's not good to watch the ground when I walk. It's not good to scare easy and walk tall.

But I'll tell you what's good. It's good to drive in the sun and the wind. It's good to wear red and walk in the cold. It's good to hear the water gurgle (even if the pond was called the stream of divine love;)) and the wind whistle.

Walking by the pavement, dodging the cobblestones, hoping for a miracle...
'You walked by luv and lit up my life'...god, the guy could talk...
I am spoilt. Or at least I used to be. Doesn't seem like there's anyone to ask that of anymore. Not right now anyway. Oh, they'll come along sometime or the other. But, I, my darling am giving away what little bargaining power I had. Do not have the inclination or the energy to cajole, push, beg, plead, demand or claim. What I have, I have..what I don't, I don't.

It makes me more content to listen right now. To watch with beady, frog eyes and amuse myself with the erudition of your wilfulness. The games people play are not necessarily the ones they win. I, on the contrary darling, am most always destined to come out clean.

Saturday, January 17, 2004

It's been raining for the last three days now. Feels like the tropics have come to town. And I couldn't be happier. The inactivity and the weather have lulled me into temporary drunkenness. Recover I will, rather, recover I have to...if not will, then coursework will make sure of that.

Changes are happening...minor, insignificant, obscure...creeping, wilful, cunning...charming, dissembling and draining...making their way into the pores of my skin...interrupting my sleep and souring my view..

Ah well, it comes around...I should stop walking around with magnifiers.

Friday, January 16, 2004

Searching in earnest...if there's a time to be honest, I assume it is not now. Because if it were, then I would know.
Unfailingly, unflinchingly and unknowingly...I would know...

Right now, it is a time to crouch in silence and watch the clouds weave patterns in faraway skies. And hope as hell that everybody I love are happy in their parallel universes. Happy in the things that they do, the fears that they fight and the loves that they live. If they weren't , then how would I ever believe that I stand a chance? Therein lies the irony of its search for its desperate need for a raison d'ĂȘ its pathetic bid to belief...

Thursday, January 15, 2004

I am going to try a risky bet. Oh-so-risky. Oh-so-bad-for-me. Oh-so-not-right.
Unworldly, irrational and doomed from the start. But god, it's a roller coaster ride.
And right now I am on a high. And tomorrow I will be on a low. And day after I will want my linear life back.
But right now I'm drenched and fey.

One day, I'll tell you all about it...

Tuesday, January 13, 2004

It's not the spectre of intense tragedy but the sum of minor irritants that puts me off course. A nudge here and a nudge there and I am ready to run, lock, stock and the whole burning barn. Somebody surprise me with a little permanence.

On second thoughts, this has become a habit. The lament to the heavens, the angst of the limelight to an audience little more than none.

Am back in school, gathering the threads of a temporarily forgotten scheme. And it's nice to feel it all seeping back. The road to the library, the trees and the rain and the newly dug flower beds. And the oh-so-bright blossoms. It's good to be back. For some time at least.

I walked to the department today, met a friend, spoke to a prof, ran a few errands. Nothing spectacular. But just the surety of everyday purpose is such a comfort. Like a thin blanket on a winter's summer day.

Sunday, January 11, 2004

Happy New Year and all that jazz! Don't feel like a new year, feel more like an old year spilling into a new year. I have no resolutions and I don't feel an upsurge of good cheer.

But I am happy. In a limited, sensible manner. None of which adjectives are going to apply an hour from now. Because it's time to end the vacation. It's time to get back to my insane life. With the choices that are careening out of proportion and landscapes veering out of focus.

Head up, shoulders straight, feet in motion...

Dance with me.