Monday, October 27, 2014

Time travel

I will never be able to do this. At least for the coming couple of months.

I've been very lucky to say that. Like everything else right, I'll prove this one too.

Somehow I'm taken back to a world where pygmy inhabitants would've put dexterity in vogue.. At least popularly so. It related to that discussion earlier about the breed of the left handed going extinct. I think dexterity would've come from defense arts like hunting, and sledging, and from even basic use of a stick. What ifs and conjecturing.

I could thank the stars to so align that I could pick the american shipload. It is very near, and very dear, and I'll be able to strike off #3 in my "I greatly need" list. Forward, comrade, even in anticipation. Forward in life, too. It only gets better.


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Shape of my left aorta

"You can save me from the man I've become "
Well my heartlist <3 has been kept in a drawer until today. So it happened to so perfectly coincide with so perfect am event in my life.

I can remember the last I was this sincere... Hope it doesn't grow into a habit.. Sincerity will kill me if I'm too consistent.. The world will be scarred and warred of all things that'll happen under a sort of miasma of me.

In vain hopes of a more agreeable life, much like the backstreet boys claim in their work titled Larger Than Life, I will continue being sentient.
Thank you.

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Sunday, October 19, 2014

money sunday

What luck. One medium runs dry then we switch to another one. That another one is different concept, but thoughts spill out nonetheless. The ink in my only preferred ink refill in the pen came to a finish. Last of its words were dug rather than printed, and last of its words were 'him kinda reg' - go figure. So I blog.

In a remarkable life featuring a string of open-ended threads that are getting entangling, there came a rare closure when I got to conduct a short workshop, on a rather intriguing and potentially upcoming topic of Ethical Hacking. Thanks to some miscommunication and general frivolity of the collegians around the festival season, I had all-but-one girls batch. It was a reverse demographic. Trinity is the only female hacker (albeit hypersexualized) I was aware of (there are 10, at least), that too fictional. Realizing that I could make 7 better and real hackers was a good feeling. It is fascinating for a career for a girl.

After random hops and jungles my weekends in the city have been better. These coupla ones have been inverted in nature. Generally we'd be working on ice cream bars or seeds on a noon hour on a Sunday. But that sugar rush was short.

By the money through the workshop, I headed to get a Djembe, in Daryaganj's famous music street. But I got caught in a pull of books. Books and books everywhere, as it was the famous Sunday Book Market. Later I realized the music shops would be closed. Then I headed back home, but with my bag full of books and weighing about 7kilos. On top of that I had a coupla bagfuls of more superstore stuff.

I got back very underslept and it has remained so and it will remain so. Yeah, that's my version of a hard day's night.
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Friday, October 17, 2014

highs of yesterday

I wanted to log a coupla days back, when the morning had started rather well. Its ironical that things I'd like to tell are often the things that (increasingly) escape memory when I do wish to. That leads to its obvious deduction, that things that I perceive as going right, don't last too long to remember. The highs are low. Or the lows are pulled into high(light) briefly. I could shrug off all that; I forget.

Over the past few days, I've been working on editing. There will be my movie out by end of this month! The demon of Makalu (and all my adventure travel) will be put to peaceful rest only upon a movie spell. After actual editing, I've come to theory of editing, and as goes with any of the passions I'm into, a theoretical understanding pulls me even more. At the same time I can see what turning professional entails, and its challenging in its own ways. Because I forget, I'll only go through an overview of the 'theory', and focus on more to come with experience, like muscle memory.

I will now resume with editing - but on a new front, that of India's quest for a nuclear submarine.

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Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Some Random

Autodefenestraphiliaphobia: the completely rational fear of having a sexual arousal of throwing oneself out of a window

Antihydroautodefenestratophiliphobiphiliaizationist: Someone against the proliferation of the sexual arousal people feel from the fear of the sexual arousal people feel from throwing themselves out of windows underwater.

The state of peace is something which we only know to value when we are on the verge of losing it.
I recall the words of Mahatma Gandhi: "If we are to teach real peace in this world, (...) we shall have to begin with the children."


One Liners
The day I saw you, I cancelled my bharatmatrimony.com account.
Baby go out with me and Lehsun my pain.
"Hey baby, are you brinjal? Because I wanna be baingan you all night"
Hey bby, if you like bananas come with me cuz I'm akela.

I have this vision of hoards of shadowy numbers lurking out there in the dark, beyond the small sphere of light cast by the candle of reason. They are whispering to each other; plotting who knows what. Perhaps they don't like us very much for capturing their smaller brethren with our minds. Or perhaps they just live uniquely numberish lifestyles, out there beyond our ken.

Likelist
Apollo Four Fourty - Stop the rock
Leftfield - Beach OST - Snakeblood
felix da housecat - watching the cars go by
Keoki - Wicked
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Thursday, October 09, 2014

trash cult, back into

It is silly that I start with this. But the trail had to continue somewhere, and for a change I don't mind where it leads me to, for I've been cautiously treading it over the past coupla weeks.

To demystify, the net at Afghani Adda just got installed, and I just got back into the information highway. With unlimited broadband, anything's possible, but with great power also comes great responsibility. I had been preparing myself responsibly in a sense, being specific and to-the-task, when doing the browsing over the 3g connection in the past week. While hope springs that such specificity only swells, Dipjol induces chaos, and right now things don't seem going that way.

Well, let things be.

Indian cinema set to Foreign music also brings back the memories of Rammstein and Mangalsutra


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Sunday, October 05, 2014

week that went by

It's been a week back in the urban chaos of Dilli.

Things started on a positive note. I didn't compromise on my promise to get my baby B back, and that was the first thing to happen, right the moment that I dropped my backpack. Wheels and weed rolled, I was back with my B. B needs treatment, and I almost needed therapy convincing others that I cared enough for it. A full recovery still looks bleak, but I'll do whatever is possible.

In the followup to my enthusiastic start, the nastiest food poisoning episode of my life happened, which just negated the previous day. It was debilitating, and mere recollection feels an unhealthy act. Things got worse as the day matured. Enough said. It could've been any of the month-old foods sampled.

If not for food, I rejuvenated my appetite for cinema. Stone Reader, Pesum Padam, Tootsie, Dude Where's My Car - only the last one being repeat viewing. There's something to say about all of 'em, but briefly put -

Stone Reader rejuvenated my appetite for reading as well. It had to be, since the docu itself was a search for a writer, who had vanished after a single epic novel. Drawing parallels to - and the veneration of, - JK Toole throughout the movie also whet some nostalgic yearning. A brief pan across the writer's room revealed a hand grip sitting on top of a stack, same as mine; nice to see we both work(out) the same way.

Pesum Padam was brilliant. The situations brought out the comedy so well, being culturally universal and unique at the same time. I'm sure the movie would have a trail, that followed in its style, which I'd like to find out about and add to my viewing list.

Tootsie was also different. I could see where Chachi 420 got its inspiration from (not Mrs. Doubtfire). Dustin Hoffman is a crazy actor. Not just him, now I've also got the work of Sydney Pollack (director) to follow.

DWMC is timeless comedy. This would be my proper second complete viewing. The acts seemed better, especially in the first half. Ashton Kutcher's magic really works in this one, which I'd earlier failed to notice, or to pinpoint. I wish Seann William Scott would still be around doing crazy stuff as this, but the first I remember seeing him was in American Pie, and the last in Evolution.

Besides all this, I have majorly food and my sad indolence to write about. But seeing that it could go into several pages, I'll refrain.

Oh, and my meat shred off in flakes. Just a stub left now.
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hx0rand domestic

After a coupla hours this morning, I felt a bit more confident of saving the world - if it came down to breaking into a terminal. Nmap, then sshnuke. Z10N0101. Then my day devolved into bad eating, home improvement, and social. Not that I find it appalling, or find myself unskilled, just that it contributes little (or negative), and usually makes me panic upon retrospect. But then, ideals are a mirage - whether that is circumstantial or a personal effect is debatable.

What did manage to get done through the day, was getting the house in a state of 'electrical' perfection. The electrician, Sonu, had come over, and handed a long task list, which he took almost the entire second half to finish. Now the fans run flawless, the lights don't fuss, and the switches click with grace. More calm pour moi.

Pa came over. We had a sensible sitting. Nothing ruffling discussed. Only political bashing, which is a safe way to say that let's not be serious. Ma sent a scrumptious homemade chocolate-almond cake - she raises the benchmark each time, admirably - which her son even forgot to congratulate her on.

At the end of the day, me and Yogi (who had visited after much convincing) went out on a ghoom to the market next door. The traditional Delhi markets, all have a common characteristic, of being deserted early in the night (~2230), so much that somebody who knows it only from the day will be confused visiting late. Despite all the unsafe that Delhi is for women, the last of its businesses remain open to cater to an exclusively female crowd - that of Mehndi wallahs. It was funny to realise that women are okay being out late, as long as they get some art on their hands - "a purpose defeats all apprehensions" adage to be derived here. 
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Anti-thesis, apology

Okay, here's an apology.
I admit a callousness at patching things. The silence between us persists, and I won't shift an iota of the blame on you. You have been the same, but I'm going rogue, to the point that you want me to speak but I won't. Things have devolved from the good 'ol days.

There are moments when thoughts of you occupy my head. Things have been better in the past, and to that past I keep falling back. Like the old friends that we were, rambling and mumbling through whatever quotidian occurrences played out. Impulse dominates, to tell me that I should work to make it the same. There's an overwhelming attachment, that convinces me to act on the impulse and make things right, but that conviction seldom results in action. Mostly, I get lost in thoughts, or feel overburdened by both, a responsibility, and a panic, to act, and let go.

Breaking a silence is not my forte - I'm well adjusted to keeping silences, to making things worse. To keep calm, it is easy to pretend that something (or lack of it) has always been there, just like this silence. I consider myself 'hardened' in a sense, though that sense may be completely wrong, or often so - this is one case.
But, then, in some way I have to say it, even though it might be anti-thesis of what I started with.
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