Friday, August 21, 2015

Demands to give up Friends

It didn't matter this much last night. Through yesterday, I found myself suspended (or 'locked') into a friend-ful state. It came as a funny feeling. The feeling, the void, was attempted to be overcome with ingestion, intoxication, and conversation. The Chinese food ensured the funny feeling will sustain till the morning, so that I get to reflect upon it.

Right now, upon waking up, hostility reeks from my reflections. Last afternoon, that was to be fun, turned to be intimidating, to the point that of wishing it would be over asap. I have come to cherish complicated friends a bit less, of late; they combine a few amazing and envious interests and talents to make up themselves; but socially they've come out as as people of hurtful sensibilities. They can't help it, so natural/engrained/magnified that hurt-response-cycle has become. People, who tend to offend as a means of social engagement.

I know I know some smart people, who are less outright vocal and more thoughtful, biding time for their responses. Sometimes, in lighter or newly-developing situations, their thoughts only go so as far as to the point where they will find a minimum basic coherent response. These responses are the ones derived from neologisms or memes or locally-viral-or-common phrases ('social culture'), as it quickens delivery of a social response (the nostalgic pull of these responses, is an added factor).

The response that comes at the end, however, is disconcerting. It smells both of misogyny and shock-value-to-drive-engagement.

It makes friends come off as creepy, rather than smart. It is not nice to see their cool turned into creepy. We feel creepy, as a response to the ambiguity of threat conveyed by an agency. One can't really talk about being with 'friends' when a 'threat' is in place. They probably saw it as 'frivolous' than 'threatful' in their own calculation; but failed to see how it could be perceived by friends they meet after almost a year's time. Creepy threats create anxiety, and drive response paralysis. Paralysed, we can't do much socially. Even when not pick up as a 'threat', the 'triteness' of their thought will drive my paralysis.

Coming to know about it, I can't explain why people would need to convey a passive threat in a gathering, just to prove their presence or build their identity. Or use the same trite shock value stuff which they were (in)famous for, 8 years outta college, which doesn't sound as cool anymore.

The only good a shock-response might encourage, is my blogging. Unless I blog bad.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Jack is not a dull boy

I have not yet started with work since the resolve of yesterday (29 hours ago, to be precise). GBPM (गयी भैंस पानी में), or SHTF (शिट हिट्स दी फ़ैन) situation incoming.

However, I did lyric-synch myself to Daft Punk's Harder Better Faster Stronger. The day had a long phase of DP - thanks to discovery of Daft Hands and Daft Bodies, memes which bloomed and withered without my knowledge, back in my early-employment days. I didn't know DP came onto the scene in such sweeping fashion. I always saw DP as the most genius and esoteric of musicians, but they got better and popular quickly. The world is moving to better music, it seems. Or at least the geeks rise, if this is a movement through the online sub-communities.

Lyrics

Work it
Make it
Do it
Makes us
Harder
Better
Faster
Stronger
More than
Hour
Our
Never [1:10]
Ever
After
Work is
Over [1:19]
Work it
Make it
Do it
Makes us [1:27]
Harder
Better
Faster
Stronger[1:35]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger [1:43]
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [1:50]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [1:56]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work Is
Never
Over [2:09]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [2:16]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [2:25]
Work It
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
[2:28]
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [2:34]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [2:40]
Work it
Harder
Make it
[2:50]
Do it
Faster
Makes us
[2:52]
More than
Ever
Hour

Our work
Is
Never
Over [2:56]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger [3:00]
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [3:04]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [3:12]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [3:18]
~Work it
~Harder
~Make it
~Better
~Do it
~Faster
~Makes us
~Stronger [3:23]
~More than
~Ever
~Hour
~After
~Our
~Work is
~Never
~Over [3:26]
Work it
Harder
Do it
Faster
More than
Ever
Our work
Is
Never
Over [3:34]
Work it
Harder
Make it
Better
Do it
Faster
Makes us
Stronger [3:38]
More than
Ever
Hour
After
Our
Work is
Never
Over [3:42]


Monday, August 17, 2015

Modus Majzoobiyat


Just woke up from a deserving lap of sleep, following yesterday, that was dense with action - much like the entire weekend. The actions were dense with lightness, which seemed to act to my modus majzoobiyat. So much shit flew, and yet none struck or stuck; and paradoxically they made for experiences of a unique sort that does validate a growing up of 30-or-so years (an awareness of about 10 years).

Briefly put, the highlights:
- drive to and back from Gethia,
- in monsoons,
- meeting accident with (one political heaveyweight) mr. bitta's brother-operated truck (apparently) at Brajghat,
- few hrs at the police station,
- driving through kanwari traffic (sorta like an annual endurance test for hindu pilgrims in this season),
- through potholed roads,
- then fogbound Gethia,
- a visit to Sattal and a band of women bringing out everything that's wrong with 'women'
- hostilities from the dead,
- my velociraptor attack wound,
- finding ferric deposits leaching from the rocks on a morning reccee,
- driving back in record time feeling much like a realistic video game,
- then delhi at its flooded worst whetting my apetite to get wet

The weekend kinda proved that life is like a dancing leprechaun that pulls out a mini machine gun and opens fire at you. I've to keep it at bay for this week; there's work to do.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

majzoobiyat hologram


Firstly, thanks to my ex-landlady for handing over her brother's stash of Depeche Mode to this tenant as the parting junk. Bengalis... the most curious ear this side of the planet. Or maybe she was just hinting me something by conveying 'leave in silence'.

I knew there'd come a day when me and Depeche Mode will get to spend quality time. I would get to know them more.

Well, I sorta did, with the latest hobby project, to generate holograms. What went in, was the jewel case of this album, what came about was a tiny plastic box (best to describe it as 'light box') that would serve the purpose. And really, all it took was constructing that tiny box.

I'd first tried it with much thinner plastic, that of a cutout soda bottle, last Caturday. Even though it got a bit mangled, it still served the purpose. I was ecstatic for a little while, then 'rest of the world' took over, and over the next 4 days I couldn't improve upon it. Until today. Today was almost done, but then the Depeche Mode case was found, and things went in another direction. I spent a good hour making the box cutout, from what was a much sturdier plastic than I had handled earlier.

Cutting a jewel case isn't easy, kids. In possession, thankfully, came this set of SK-5 Steel blades, which though didn't seem resilient, proved to stand all torture. Not only did they help make the cutouts for the box, the blade itself didn't get damaged. I later learnt that SK-5 is also used in a lot of knives, and instructional videos show how even repeated stabbing of metal (demonstrated on car doors) won't do a darn to the steel. Apparently, SK5 be so good, that it could be sharpened easy in the field as well be used as a spear without risk of breaking.

(on SK5 Steel) It is the Japanese equivalent of American 1080, a high carbon steel with carbon between 0.75%-0.85% and 0.60%-0.90% manganese. The excess carbide increases abrasion resistance and allows the steel to achieve an ideal balance of very good blade toughness with superior edge holding ability. Due to these characteristics, this grade of steel has been used traditionally for making a variety of hand tools, including chisels and woodcutting saws, and has stood the test of time and use over many years.
Hence I fearlessly proceeded to use my new set of blades on the cover. Easier said than done, really, since the thing took a while, and operation with different blades and grips.

Once the lightbox was done, all needed, were hologram videos. These take an object and project it on the screen in 4 directions, about a pivot point, so that the final composite made by our eyes is a 3d object. The composite is an illusion, really, just a play of light, and that there is no actual object there.

Majzoobiyat - N.F. vs T.I.S.B.

This week of enrichment brings out a mashup from within me. I'd imagined that The Incredible String Band's Air  was the best that could come. And then came along this North Face movie, Into the Mind, that seemed to go so well with, and even be of the same length as, the track. Both of them, together, give a euphoric 3 minutes.

North Face vs The Incredible String Band [mashup] from uhbiv on Vimeo.

From the stable of 'we never do anything original' comes this unoriginal mashup between North Face and The Incredible String Band. these two go well together. Neither the footage nor the music is mine. Edited a bit to synch with the track.


Youtube has historically sucked for mashup videos. Theirs detects all copyrighted work, and blocks it. I always hope against, in that the next new upload will go undetected... but apparently not.

   Your video has been blocked in some countries.
Copyrighted content was found in your video.
Because of the claimant's policy, this video can't be played in some countries
Your video can't be played outside these countries: Bonaire, Sint Eustatius and Saba, Curacao, Montenegro, Saint Barthelemy, Saint Martin, Serbia, Sint Maarten, South Sudan
Copyright details
CONTENTCLAIMANTPOLICY
  • Visual content
  • 1:12 - 2:09 
  • The Orchard Entertainment
  • Blocked in some countries 

They should just block the whole thing instead of giving a message of partial access. The only countries without the copyright issue, are those which excludes 99.9 % of YouTube demographics.

Well, Vimeo to the rescue. Almost a scripted routine - get to YouTube, start uploading, remembering Vimeo halfway through, carrying on with YouTube in false hope, having the video upload on YouTube, learning the video got blocked on YouTube, upload to Vimeo as an alternative. No wonder, all my mashup videos live over there.

Monday, August 10, 2015

S.Sn.

They tell of this boy
who would sit by the river,
and sing of the oceans blue,
and think of the people and me and you,
surrounding.
Love, he heard about
in the river's song
the murmurs of the breeze;
the trill of cicadas in the trees,
invisible.

They said he was a mad one,
And thinking of the madmen,
he went looking for a mad one
found one right behind him
talking of madness besides his,
and feed him tea and oranges from Kashmir,
and enjoy the snows alongside.

And just when he meant to tell her
that he no love to give her,
then she stopped him
and said
let the river answer,
- it has already thought a lot more ,
than we ever could in a mortal span -
and it did, it said,
that they've always been lovers.

Now he wants to travel with her
And he wants to travel blind
And he knows that she will trust him
For he's touched her perfect body with his mind.


Sunday, August 09, 2015

eschew that was you

The night before the one before, the night before, and last night have been a twisted chapter in life. Twisted chapter in dealing with the living, better puts it. I had dreams the first two nights which tripped me; the last night there were no dreams, but reality was hard enough. That I didn't dream could be because I either felt tired, or felt relieved that the day ended - I was physically drained too.

The two dreams appealed for continuity instead of closure. Or reminded me of it. I felt uncomfortable about it. They reminded me that it's a small world. Is conscious-subconscious dissonance a recognized kind of schizophrenia?
The reality of last night was sort of eschewing hypocrisy and getting away from a more playable and playful part of me. I have other playgrounds, least of which is projected as human nature, or unnatural humans. People get hurt easy, and running in a field of yellow and green flowers is difficult if it is an abstract another-person mind in question.

Let's rename Delhi to Pervy Delhi or New Pervy Delhi


Here is what happy people of Prishtina, the capital of Kosovo and first of my lie-or-cheat-to-get-to destinations, look like.


Here is what happy people of Delhi look like. You can tell something isn't right - the people. We are a deeply inwardly drawn crowd. We have a few happy people, who keep all the happiness inside, bottled up. [I could argue that Bangalore is a bigger extreme in this regard, but I'm also saying that it has more indulgent people.] It is what keeps us in rhythm, really. I don't know what that happiness gets processed as, but our inside rythm rarely mathces the outside. We come off as a badly coordinated, socially awkward, downright pervy bunch (and then there are the wallflowers, and the real pervy bunch from satellite towns moving into and out of delhi). Or maybe we are never dancing inside, that is why nothing can ever catch us off guard when we are outside.





Death tourism and pickup godqueens

NarMo pitched a great concept to Bodhgaya. That of death tourism.
He made the people realize the biggest advantage of being the land of masses, that the living, like they were born, die in masses too. We bloomed, and so we shall wither in the same numbers. That is logic, but many don't get it until he put it so explicitly. He urged people to make death a quality experience, and make money off it. People regardless of religion come to perform last rites in such places, and Bodhgaya must capitalize.

Pitru-paksha is what its called - I don't know much about it since I've not thought of my father or feared death to obsessive levels.
On death: I haven't been living for too long, but I think death is something to think on coming to terms with before you think of an eternity, because it will be the major part of your eternity anyways... The "living" is the in-between part, when you get to decide whether you hate it or not, and how many you find who think similar as you do - to form a cloud of majorly-dead-for-eternity that is denser than the dark matter that surrounds it; and feels warmer inside. There isn't anything to be expected for yourself or towards yourself beyond death, but you damn well hope things continue and the world will be as comfortable as you had imagined for yourself but never achieved, and those comforts would rather be shared among the people that you have made associations with rather than your negation, or the people who never came into your knowledge/understanding.

He promised that even the lowest rung members of the society will profit off this death industry - "bharat 150 carore logon ka desh mai... ...murmure bechne wale ko bhi paise milenge" (i am unsure of the closing words). He promised to make it amenable to last-rites tourist. Well, that was expected to come from him standing as an MLA from Varanasi, the historically-known city where death hangs in the air. Varanasi is at a beautiful confluence, and sadly the enlightenment at offer is most amenable for (Hindu) last rites. It is also existing as a great business model at the same time. Modi promises that.
To digress, if I were a leader with genocidal tendencies, I would be somebody sharing such enthusiasm for death, and work on introducing measures to process the dead quicker and distributing the workload of managing the disposal, and alongside introduce mind control and brainwashing to ensure that things don't blow up when you decimate a specific population. Stuff for science fiction.

What a dark, but industrious way to make people fear death less, and see it as an investment opportunity, and know that their passing away will only bring business and profit to a new generation much like they profited from it. Leadership of the masses is the name of the game.

What a way to drive tourism, too. Most of today's nuclear families (even India's shaping this way) come together at the time of unanticipated deaths. If you promise them a picnic, then surely it will get more numbers to travel, to farther places, of reputed experiences. We'll find families doing great roadtrips in impulsive desire to express their regret for the dead. Regrets live the longest, and capitalize on them at the right time, giving people the opportunity to live them out in an acceptable way, they will yield the most too. What better time than death, to hook people into regret.

"Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because the regret is stronger than gratitude," said Anne Frank.

Dead people might bring more business than the living ones, too.
Maybe we'll have an app that will rate the best death destinations. Families might like to know the ones with shortest ritual times, or ones with lowest visitors because numbers spoil the experience and make it seem artificial. Single men might seek best Tinder destinations for last rites where after a day of 'spirituality' - with death - they can complete the understanding of human experience with life (ahem).

India sure is gaining reputation as a spiritual experience of late, and death, being the final frontier, if turned into an experience, will get more people here for last rites than curing the cancer that is going to kill them. Death tourism over medical tourism. Or maybe death tourism coz of medical tourism. What ever.

Only that I won't like to imagine our highways filled with mourny-but-overwhelmed people cruising regretfully with mourny-families to Varanasi and Bodhgaya. Maybe families start expecting deaths to be regular, so that 'that special time with people from childhood' happens like routine cleansing process.
I wanted different associations with my roads and places, where death will be the least of purposes. My enervation is setting in.

To opine, what a grim profession to urge people to get into in masses, and not focus on building technical skill and getting into ISRO.

---
And here's a recent update on one of India's god-queens:
"Radhe Maa, who is said to be a big fan of porn star-turned-actress Sunny Leone, recently posed as a model in a mini skirt and asked devotees to pick her up."
Do you know who Radhe Ma is? Nobody does.
One thing I know is that this woman manages to live a convincing life despite such ungraceful and controversial buffoonery. She picks up followers doing this (no pun intended). She has turned into a grandmother doing this. What more, she has only a few trifling legal hassles chasing her, so she might be the longest living glam godqueen species, a unique species, indeed. Radhe Ma is perhaps the only one in the 'glam' sub-genere of  'godqueen' genre. That is why, I christen the subspecies after her, as M. Radheycus. Sure hope there are cultural historians after such people, after all she has a dominating influence on such masses.

Somebody should introduce her to Tinder - maybe she'll love it too and later organise mass tinder hookups among followers. My perception is you'll find her followers more on apps like Whisper, posting regrets and pervy requests of "private friandship".


Saturday, August 08, 2015

Asshole of an organism

And that I had been coated in this patina of shit for the best part of my life. And the stench of it, the stain of it would take the rest of my life to undo. And you know what I did? I took a deep, cleansing breath and I set that notion aside. I tabled it. I said to myself, "As clear as this may be, as potent a feeling as this is as true a thing as I believe that I have witnessed today, it must wait. It must stand the test of time."And, Michael, the time is now.

The best part of my backtracking is running into stuff like this. Michael Clayton and especially this intro are crazy.
That I finally got over my indolence to restore its mp3 audio link is why I'm bringing it back into consciousness. To pick on the new, is the background track, so subtle and so in synch with the audio and overall emotion.


anbodh suboh with nusrat

these clips could describe the complete experience. wanna put them on to pa as audience; he's coming around later and i get to impress his ear, if not his entire persona.








Delhi SSD schizophrenia

Delhi was really going crazy today. The blast-wave of crazy likely started from my core and rippled through. I had a long day out. The longer I stayed out there, the more the chaos in psyche and city seemed to bloom. In the end it was like a video game - interactions in real world to the level of feeling artificial is not a good indicator. But despite the dehumanizing experience I did reach home feeling humanized because of the traffic. Everybody out to rush to their nest. Much like me, who zipped through it in what can be imagined as a pheasant through the lantana bushes.

First the start... there was none. I was up 0800 (regrettably late), trying like a fish to get some air. Or start on my startup work. A lot of promise holds. Regrettably, sleep held a greater promise. It talked me into sleeping with it right when I thought me and code would be bedfellows. I should stop getting into a flight response of retiring into the bed with laptop at any enervating event; they come too many too often. It could mean I'm slow, or am slowing down. That, too, happens with age, but having red of crazier people in further stretches, I'm sure laggardness or memory fatigue can be left as a pipe (un)dream and I'm left to my devices.

Then I left for Noida.
4 events put me off track
1. Venue of work was switched to SSD's.
2. My roomie had emptied my wallet this morning
3. The petrol guy over-filled
4. My blossoming schizophrenia

Disorientation started right from the moment of exit. The market road was blocked by somebody or something alien to Delhi's markets. I was stuck barely 100m from home. The recent introduction of divider barriers to  LJN, is a degrading dehumanizing and downright hazardous activity. I used to lament about the pedestrians when there as one, and yesterday found myself lamenting about (and because of) vehicle owners who get to face the linear logic of these civic space planners, who ensured that LJN could be brought to a halt by a novice out with an SUV. Good that I had a motorbike, and a narrow channel through the rickshawallah and autowallahs, leading into the last of exit lanes to slip into, to escape through the bylanes and circle around the traffic jam that by then probably extended all the way to my place as I drove away from the scene of inefficiency.
I'm surprised how far they can take a bad concept, like the way they've done this market. {Shudders at the thought of medical emergencies and fire evacuation}

Not soon as I'd escaped a scene that pushed me towards intent of mass strikes, did I find myself building an intent of murder. There you go, human experience percolating from a collective to an individual level... guess that counts for something. People can't act on simple instructions. The petrol guy overfilled, and since I was, financially, running on zero-contingency calculations expecting a simple experience, this was one I didn't anticipate, and one which set my day wrong. In good nature I did compensate for his overfill. In the process I forgot about the freeway toll that the last precious INR10 note was supposed to be for!

That was realized shortly before entering the toll. Perspiration set in. I stopped shortly after Ashram. Somebody misinformed there was an ATM machine a short distance ahead. Ahead I went, relieved, and it enervating that there wasn't one. I could imagine this being the only spot in Delhi which would need about 4-km of detour to get to an ATM. FML. Tapri-wallahs were amused seeing my situation. My iPod music had to be put aside, and my sound trip ended there. Work went off my head, trying to calculate the extra half hour it'd take to wind my alternate way through Akshardham. I cursed my boss a bit for shifting the venue today in exasperation, too.

After going nuts, I realized that I wasn't in a mess. I had money in my bag, in fact, all over it. There is a me that has learnt to anticipate whirring fans and an associated phenomenon. That me would not let an object like a bag be deadweight in times of emergency. Hence, I traced down a 100 Rs note compacted into a ID pocket. What schizophrenic, I told myself. One panics the other works a way out. A third one blogs.

It took a while to reach SSD's but finally made it. My instincts to lampoon the lazy employed kinda took over at the gates to SSD's apartment complex, but I eschewed lengthy conversations and overcame the rest with the motion of my feet.

On the way back, Delhi was at its craziest. Right from the freeway, I ran into thick traffic. That made the freeway ride a lot fun, and fast (faster than i'd go in thinner traffic, maybe),  but I approached a wall of traffic to the end of it. Long way round seemed the way out of it quicker, and I took a 3km detour to take the Barapullah - an epic elevated-road-next-door that is free of people and traffic (traffic = vehicles, in a collective, in a small space).  That sat fine with expectations. But getting there was real fun, slicing between the traffic. I can be a good impulsive driver, and made some quick-but-sneaky-not-amounting-to-rash decisions to do the slicing.

To know what short-lived pleasures are, the Barapullah is a sure shot experience. For soon as I descended down from that elevated corridor onto the arterial Lala Lajpat Road, the wall of traffic greeted me again, to dismay. I thought I'd get a clean way in. The drizzle had also picked in the meantime. So the clean way turned out to be messy by the end. I took the Birbal Rd to slug my way through the Jangpura traffic. People with similar ideas as mine but vehicles 5 times bigger blocked this exit too. The road devolved into mud floor, but that was overcome, too.

Last challenge for the day came in the way of a railway line. Yes, there is one right in the 'hood. It has no commercial traffic playing, but just load wagons ferrying to and fro through the day. There is a barrier that I've always found closed. Where there's no way around, there's a way under. Hence ensued a careful process of jumping the closed barrier by going under it (the irony). In drizzle and over a stretch littered with water-filled potholes. It went fine. Fey was not bruised a bit, and I improvised over the second barrier. Finally got home.