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.
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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