Sanity, vanity and some more...

Some days back, a certain someone came over to our office to present a 'sermon' on blogging. I walked in eagerly with an open mind to hear this guy out (the fact that he's from Tamland helped in the mind wanting to patiently sit through the whole thing!). What I thought would be a flavourful session with much to argue, discuss and debate about, instead had me stepping out spitting fire!

It was all about classification of blogs to bring some sort of clarity and organising the vast universe. Being a public relations professional, this is of course important in terms of what we do. And bringing some order to this chaotic universe is indeed something of a good thing. But what really made me question the speaker's presentation was the scornful attitude towards personal blogs - those that he featured under sanity, vanity and identity - where people write because they can or because they are good or becasue it is cathartic or because they are vain and luckily good writers and hence can brag about or decry their lives..

9 August 2009 ...
PS: Again..written a long long time back (29 December to be precise!)...whilst I was still working...so much has happened since then - I have quit my job, I have seen leh, I befriended some new interesting people and lost a few in the making and now moving on to study in Maastricht, Holland...life is what you make it out to be, not unpredictable - I can say that now with confidence - sorry for letting a new post seep into this old one.. lots of thoughts are residing in my head fighting for space and volume...

Going back to this particular blog post, it doesn't merit a conclusion any more however I still hold the grudge against the man - and that shall so remain.

Writing on a gravestone

Disillusioned, she stood.
Her head lowered, the pressure beating her shoulders down. She shuddered as she looked at the ground beneath, her eyes moist.

Should she have looked up at all? Should she have walked and braved the storms ahead? Should she have bothered finding her way out of her tortured life?

If she could have, she would have.

Rest in peace.
CC

A few jazz riffs...

...that have kept me busy lately and have inspired playfully! :)

Some day my prince will come - Miles Davis & John Coltrane
Dat Dere - Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers
Tune up when lights are low - Miles Davis
Tenor Conclave - John Coltrane
Samba Yantra - Chick Corea
Let's get lost - Chet Baker
Sortie - Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers
Confirmation - Jackie Mclean
Untitled Blues Waltz - Paul Desmond & Gerry Mulligan
Last train from Overbrook - James Moody & Cedar Walton
Brilliant Corners - Thelonious Monk
April in Paris - Charlie Parker
Dancing in the dark - Bill Evans and his orchestra
Hear me talkin to ya - Cannonball Adderly

Dat Dere is now my caller tune. I think it's fabulous! The trumpet sets the pace perfectly and the saxophone springs alive soon after. Art Blakey adds the zing with his drums, effortlessly as is his style and the piece just comes together splendidly. It has this subtle softness, an air of mystery to it and climaxes now and then beautifully - it's almost like a reading Agatha Christie's Poirot. I love.

It's up on Youtube and certainly worth a hear. So if you get time, try and unwind with this fabulous piece. It does to your heart much more than what great sex can on a lazy, sunny winter afternoon!

A girl enchanted

A girl enchanted,

She stands, silently looking into the veiled evening.
The purple moon floats in the sky, inspiring courage.
The street corner, dimly lit,
her face shines in it.
The eyes, so pretty and piercing; wait longingly, tenderly...
The evening mist gently glides by(serenading in a way),
as if it were singing and dancing to a tune played by the skies.

He comes riding atop his black stallion,

shining in his resplendent cloak.
He lifts his hat and tosses it in the air,
and throws open his golden locks;
Just as the sun peeks out of the clouds,
with a brilliance so shattering!
He stands. Tall.
He stands. Confident.
He stands, his walloping heart...beating.

A quiet background for his outwardly flamboyance,

She looks with a look made of all sweet accord.
(a mystical radiance, an obvious mindlessness, a necessary oblivion)
and they embrace.

Ah! desirous life,
a few more fall prey!

Note: Painting by Daniel Schwartz.
Source: http://todaysinspiration.blogspot.com/2008/03/tom-watson-continues-his-look-at.html

Happy Diwali

It's noisy. My head hurts. It's smokey. My eyes burn. hmph hmph
But the sky lights up now and then in pretty colours. There's that bomb that goes off somewhere and catches you unaware. The markets are full of people, merry-making. There's sweets and food so lovely that I become a gluttonous pig. It's noisy. It's smokey. It's Diwali and I love it.

The nonsensical pot

The pot... it was nonsensical. It thought itself unique. {It was nonsensical you see!} "One of a kind, rare, one in a million, so white, so pure", it uttered flattery in its name all the time and basked in the limelight it created for itself.

Then one fine day she came.She stopped. She looked. She shat in the nonsensical pot just to shut it up.

Millions - that's how many nonsensical pots there are now. They don't chatter anymore, just flush down the shit we give. How nice of 'em all!

It was meant to be

Psyche: Do you think I tease?
Amor: Umm... who, me? Well, I'm too huge for you to really tease me and get away with it.
Psyche: No, I mean...do you think I am a tease; that I flirt, caper around a bit much?
Amor: You just called yourself a magnet and me a metal head. Does that count? (Pause) Actually, if I hadn't known you better, I would have thought that to be a pitiful attempt at picking me up.
Psyche: What would have been appropriate then?
Amor: How about...I travelled half way around the world to finally find myself in your arms. Keep me.
Psyche: (Throws her head back and calls him a loser)

It happened then. I smiled. He smiled back at me. I scrunched my nose at him, a little playfully, a little amorously. A dainty wink my way he threw. We walked away, as great friends.
.
.
.
cupid's arrow went astray,
and in my arms eternally he lay.

The painting used is Amor and Psyche, 1907 by Edvard Munch.

The friend speaketh...

So I asked my dear friend to peek into my blog and let me know her thoughts. The truth was revealed - boring followed by a hyena like laugh poking fun at the fact that the blog's home to 4 posts in 2 years! "So much in such little time?" her retort to my screwy face looking longing at her for a positive review. (all this on gTalk - FYI)

Well, Voltaire says that the secret of being a bore is to say everything! So where do i begin and where do i draw the line?

3 posts in less than 24 hours though... must say I'm making progress.

I have been contemplating quite a few topics for this blog but either they are too political or too personal. I guess a mix of the two with a little from my phantasy world, peppered with reviews, music, food and movies would do me a world of good.

Wish me luck please.

a thought...

This world is back to being a supercontinent - a socio-economic-multicultural-multilingual Pangaea held by the threads of globalisation. So are we headed towards another Jurassic period?

Too loud

Self: *shrug*
1st voice in head: stop saying shrug
Self: shrug (sticks her tongue out)
2nd voice in head: shrug (forgets to stick tongue out!)

this is what happens when i don't write for too long and have none to talk to. While the first voice is always ready with that mild rebuke and gladly takes on every opportunity to chide, the second just playfully copies everything the self does! pssh to both! its 11.34 - go sleep!