So it feels like the heavens are emptying their water supplies tonight, I guess they want to recycle the whole load. I don't really remember the last time I walked in such a persistent and adament downpour. One where the raindrops are thick and heavy, and each one of them hits the ground or whatever it can hit with a 'thuddish' plop. And the rain falls to the ground in a perfect array of perpendiculars, unharmed by wind.
It's the sort of rain where even after you've gotten yourself under a sturdy solid roof, you feel that you're getting wet, and those thick drops are thudding on your being, engulfing you in totality, not even sparing a single spot of your soul.
It's like all the Greek, Roman, and Hindu gods got together and decided to have a collosal water fight, and instead of throwing plastic bags full of water at each other, they decided it would suit them more to hurl complete rivers, and as a consequence all of us little fellows trapped within the insanities of this earth got drenched.
If it were a bit warmer, I am quite sure I would have found some excuse to just walk away for a mile or two in the rain, humming all of my favorite oldies, jumping into a puddle of water every now and then.
So I attribute confining myself to the hard labours of work at 12 at night to it being too cold to get wet in the rain.
Ahh...who am I kidding, I'd still love walking into the crazy downpour and witness the excellence of nature rebounding on my being, first-hand! Yes sir, no secondary account would do.
So I completed another book by Michael Cunningham today, "Flesh and Blood". I believe this is the first book he wrote, before "The Hours" and "A Home at the End of the World". It is raw (an observation I take from my good friend Girish), and perhaps the most jerky of his other narratives, and perhaps lacks in a certain finesse, but again his ability to sink into the human psyche left me spell bound, and unable to do anything for a good while. Yes, it is one of those rare and precious books that leave you in a trance lost among the characters, grieving and rejoicing in their losses and accomplishments. Simple stated Mr. Cunningham has the gift of words, which if used appropriately is perhaps even more effective then Superman's x-ray vision, and can look through anything, even lead!
So to anyone who chances by this post, do read any of the three books I've mentioned above. Let me just say that these aren't happy books, these aren't conventional books, they might even be shocking, but yes, as studies of human emotion, I haven't seen anyone do it better.
And let me end by taking a quote that was posted on Vovvi in a recent post, I don't agree with the 11-70 age difference, but yes, there is something to it!
"At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies."
-- PG Wodehouse
Monday, March 20, 2006
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Here and There...gathering things
For the last two weeks, I've been down the all so familiar tunnel of over working myself. And I still can't see the light at the other end of the tunnel. So I guess the only thing I can do is to resign myself to the fact that I'll be stuck in this state of permanent exhaustion for a while to come. I am here right now, writing on my blog, courtesy of the thing I was working on, going into an infinite state of limbo! And let me just say...stay there...
There've been numerous moments in the days gone by when I really wanted to write something down, but was usually to involved in the work at hand, or too exhausted to sign-in! My only reprieve has been reading the blogs that I like to read (I will try adding a link on my blog, so here's to walking into the unknown).
I've been thinking about many things, of which I can recall some. One night I started thinking about the things that can make a grown man crumble in self-pity and dissolve into a strong current of tears. And I thought of quite a few reasons, and somehow all of the reasons came down to one thing. The loss of something dear to you. And I don't mean "dear to you" like your zippo, but I mean "dear to you" like the air you breathe in.
See the problem is that men in general are on the slower side when compared to women. OK, before all the men in the world pull out a guillotine, give me a moment to clarify. I am not saying slower in terms of doing algebra, or negotiating turns at break neck speed. I'm saying slower in terms of realizing what's important to us. I've seen so many men walk through a passage of life with someone without ever realizing how important that passage or person might be to them. On the other hand I feel that women are blessed with the ability to recognize 'that' what really matters and go the extra mile to appreciate it (which in the case of man-woman relationships often translates into the man running away).
But...getting back to the point, us men, we live through with something that is wonderful and as important to us as the air we breathe in, never appreciating it, and always appreciating a pizza or our favorite couch over the "as important as the air we breathe in" thing! But through my own experiences and of my friends, I have realized that there is a way by which we can be made aware of the glitch in our priority system. And the only way to do that is to take that thing away from us.
Now do you see why "the air we breathe in" is such a perfect example for us, the slower half of the world! Deprive us of air, and we'd know how much we need it. And when this thing, that we need so much without ever realizing, is taken away from us, we fall down, crumbling in self-pity and dissolving in tears. This is something that would make the grown man cry...
And it boils down to loss. Absolute, pure, and concentrated loss...
So here's my petition to the other more efficient half of this world. Please realize this short-coming of ours, and accept us in spite of it. For otherwise we'll be left with nothing but an endless array of potential gone bad, and moments gone by.
In the past couple of weeks I also thought about the things that make me happy, that give me the little pleasures that I guess are the fuel that keep me going. And I made a sort of list in my mind. Now this might sound a bit corny, but hey, I don't give a damn!
The List of things that make me happy in the smallest ways
(Not in order)
1) Early morning dew in the winters. I am speaking of the dew that transforms a simple garden into Superman's fortress of solitude as soon as the sun comes out.
2) Sound of a child giggling. I speak here of the giggle of the baby with no teeth, that's usually accompanied by a frivolous flow of saliva.
3) The heads in front of you in the cinema. OK, try this out as an experiment, next time you go to watch a movie, seat yourself in the back of the theater, and when you're totally into the movie, stop watching it. And just look at the many heads that're popping out of the seats, all focused on the screen. I like to do this and imagine the expression on the face at that very moment.
4) The smell in the kitchen when you're deep frying French fries.
5) The smell in the kitchen when you're baking a cake or something similar.
6) The sound of rain on a tin roof.
7) Lying face-up on the ground, looking up to the skies on a clear night, with no clouds and no moon.
8) An honest moment. I speak of the moment in our lives that comes quite often and then cuts down its recurrence frequency. I speak of the moment when you are totally spell-bound by something, and you lose complete focus for a moment.
I can probably go on with this list, and all I'd need to do would be to remember the last time I just smiled for no reason, and recall the trigger for that smile, and move back from there.
But alas "it" has returned from the (not so) infinite state of limbo, and yes, I drag my self (kicking and screaming) back to work.
O and yes, watch Shopgirl, I liked the film for its simplicity, effect, and Claire Dane's performance.
Later then.
There've been numerous moments in the days gone by when I really wanted to write something down, but was usually to involved in the work at hand, or too exhausted to sign-in! My only reprieve has been reading the blogs that I like to read (I will try adding a link on my blog, so here's to walking into the unknown).
I've been thinking about many things, of which I can recall some. One night I started thinking about the things that can make a grown man crumble in self-pity and dissolve into a strong current of tears. And I thought of quite a few reasons, and somehow all of the reasons came down to one thing. The loss of something dear to you. And I don't mean "dear to you" like your zippo, but I mean "dear to you" like the air you breathe in.
See the problem is that men in general are on the slower side when compared to women. OK, before all the men in the world pull out a guillotine, give me a moment to clarify. I am not saying slower in terms of doing algebra, or negotiating turns at break neck speed. I'm saying slower in terms of realizing what's important to us. I've seen so many men walk through a passage of life with someone without ever realizing how important that passage or person might be to them. On the other hand I feel that women are blessed with the ability to recognize 'that' what really matters and go the extra mile to appreciate it (which in the case of man-woman relationships often translates into the man running away).
But...getting back to the point, us men, we live through with something that is wonderful and as important to us as the air we breathe in, never appreciating it, and always appreciating a pizza or our favorite couch over the "as important as the air we breathe in" thing! But through my own experiences and of my friends, I have realized that there is a way by which we can be made aware of the glitch in our priority system. And the only way to do that is to take that thing away from us.
Now do you see why "the air we breathe in" is such a perfect example for us, the slower half of the world! Deprive us of air, and we'd know how much we need it. And when this thing, that we need so much without ever realizing, is taken away from us, we fall down, crumbling in self-pity and dissolving in tears. This is something that would make the grown man cry...
And it boils down to loss. Absolute, pure, and concentrated loss...
So here's my petition to the other more efficient half of this world. Please realize this short-coming of ours, and accept us in spite of it. For otherwise we'll be left with nothing but an endless array of potential gone bad, and moments gone by.
In the past couple of weeks I also thought about the things that make me happy, that give me the little pleasures that I guess are the fuel that keep me going. And I made a sort of list in my mind. Now this might sound a bit corny, but hey, I don't give a damn!
The List of things that make me happy in the smallest ways
(Not in order)
1) Early morning dew in the winters. I am speaking of the dew that transforms a simple garden into Superman's fortress of solitude as soon as the sun comes out.
2) Sound of a child giggling. I speak here of the giggle of the baby with no teeth, that's usually accompanied by a frivolous flow of saliva.
3) The heads in front of you in the cinema. OK, try this out as an experiment, next time you go to watch a movie, seat yourself in the back of the theater, and when you're totally into the movie, stop watching it. And just look at the many heads that're popping out of the seats, all focused on the screen. I like to do this and imagine the expression on the face at that very moment.
4) The smell in the kitchen when you're deep frying French fries.
5) The smell in the kitchen when you're baking a cake or something similar.
6) The sound of rain on a tin roof.
7) Lying face-up on the ground, looking up to the skies on a clear night, with no clouds and no moon.
8) An honest moment. I speak of the moment in our lives that comes quite often and then cuts down its recurrence frequency. I speak of the moment when you are totally spell-bound by something, and you lose complete focus for a moment.
I can probably go on with this list, and all I'd need to do would be to remember the last time I just smiled for no reason, and recall the trigger for that smile, and move back from there.
But alas "it" has returned from the (not so) infinite state of limbo, and yes, I drag my self (kicking and screaming) back to work.
O and yes, watch Shopgirl, I liked the film for its simplicity, effect, and Claire Dane's performance.
Later then.
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