... Trix are for Kids

I’ve missed most of the Formula One season so far this year due to unforeseen circumstances, as most often are, so I’m only just starting to catch up. The one sport I actually follow with more than my eyes is the one that, unfortunately, draws a huge wannabe posse around here… dumbasses cheering for the red just to be in esteemed company. Tifosi, my ass. Motorsport is not soccer or tennis or any of those other games which are comprehensible to the everyday moron.

I don’t have anything against women in sport, as long as they compete against women ONLY. As far as I’m concerned, they can either watch and be silent or participate, but only when other women are involved (Although it would be incredibly easy to get sucked into the whole “women drivers” embargo right here, I am restraining myself due to constraints of time and sensibility). None of that “equal rights” bullshit. Feminism is the sorriest excuse for a movement since mankind was invented. It only succeeds in accomplishing the geometric opposite of what its supposed goals are.
A woman shouldn’t be competing in or commenting on men’s sport on the same plane as a man unless she’s exceptionally good at it. I won’t name names, but there are a few women today who can do with this advice. A guy, on the other hand, can often get away with some pretty mediocre shit.
The only formula feminity (or femininity??) that I know of are the pit lane chicks that glossy up the photo shoots and shade the drivers while they wait on the starting straight. That’s the way it should be, eye candy and nothing more. But now ESPN has a woman sitting AND SPEAKING beside an accomplished driver, hosting the show on raceday. Paula… baby… stick to Friday releases and Billboard countdowns and leave the men’s stuff to the men who know their stuff.

At the same time, in a city where pedestrians and motorists alike believe that they own the roads, I’m the one who, instead of swerving to avoid a woman crossing the street, waits to lets her pass. A guy in her position wouldn’t get the time of day from me, though. It isn’t purposeful chivalrous intent, but more of habit. The part that I really enjoy is the somewhat embarrassed, somewhat confused, somewhat amused and totally surprised smile that almost always flashes across their lips immediately after.


It’s no secret that the earth is in deep shit. Or rather, deep shit is on the earth. We’ve polluted, crowded and stripped it so badly that we’ve run ourselves out of home. Moon property is going cheap on the realty market with a highly optimistic idea of beginning to murder it too, starting 2015 (Nevermind that we have only ever managed to get two dudes to scout the damn place; and that is debatable too, apparently). Fossil fuels are rapidly vanishing as a natural resource while the world continues to guzzle without a care. Global warming has always been around, as a mild curse word that came up in classrooms but not where it really mattered. These days it can even be heard around celebrities and social activists but still not where it will really make a difference.

I do NOT believe that one person can make a difference, anywhere. And nothing was ever solved by a concert. It takes a concerted effort by a competent government that pushes the populace in the right direction. Whatever happened to government sponsored initiative?
Although it’s a smart thing, it’s stupid to ask someone to plant a tree. Unless you have a yard or a farm or just generally like to squat on public property, that isn’t likely to happen. But if we cannot contribute towards the solution, we can at least reduce how much of a part of the problem we are. Economize on electrical usage. Walk. Recycle. They all roll off the tongue quite easily, no?
This silly country seems to be playing the little brother card so that we can sit idly by and let the big boys make or at least attempt to make the major effort to clean up. According to yet another imbecilic “study”, apparently our “public” has the highest level of “concern” about the environment in the world. But that's where it stops, ’cos those same concerned assholes continue to disrespect public property, drive over a five minute walk and have fifteen lamps on at a time in their homes.
And while everything is going down the toilet, petty struggle over nuclear deals goes on in the background… sure, EXACTLY what we need!

At this stage, it’s no more about fixing the problem, we can only try to prolong the inevitable by making sure that we don’t doom our immediate generations. The beginning of the end arrived a long time ago.


I’ve actually had a pretty damn good year after many attempts at it and with the two four coming up in a coupla days, I’m not all that unhappy for once.

The Smashing Pumpkins – 1979
Marcy Playground – Sex and Candy

Silly rabbit...

They can’t tell us
They’re just jealous
‘Cos they don’t understand.

The traveling walkway drones intermittently in the background as I struggle to position my buttocks in the tiny seat so that I can lean back comfortably while taking the weight off my aching left leg. After walking with an embarrassing limp all day, I need some relief.
Looking around me, it’s like I’m already back where I started from. The faces, the voices… I almost know them. I may as well have been sitting at a restaurant in the city. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or pleased at the entirely too familiar surroundings.

A young man in a suit takes a seat at a reasonable distance away from me. Of course, I haven’t given him much of a choice in the matter since I’ve extended my arms to occupy slightly more than three seats. Indians most often tend not to understand the concept of personal space and in fact, perhaps even without intending to, do exactly the opposite of respecting it. The stretching is a conscious effort at establishing a boundary.
At closer inspection, it isn’t a very good suit. In fact, it isn’t even a suit at all. The trousers are a couple of shades lighter than the jacket and are missing the pin stripes. The shirt and tie do not match either in contrast or colour. He clearly isn’t very used to dressing up. Either that or he just doesn’t know any better. Why don’t they teach dress sense in schools?

I have more than an hour to spare, so I figure that I may as well rest my eyes for a while. It’s been more than a day already.
Then I have to worry about snoring or worse, letting my jaw fall open like a drooling monstrosity. Between maintaining an acceptable facial expression and having to shift in my seat every few minutes, I’m concentrating more on positioning my body rather than relaxing it. This isn’t working.
I open my eyes again and try to drown out the sights and sounds instead of focusing on them. In doing so, I am forced to watch the uncomfortably pleasant old couple making mundane conversation while sharing home made sandwiches from a Tupperware case, in what is apparently a very early breakfast. Sleep drifts from my mind, replaced by cynicism at their seeming contentedness.

Scratch that… before I’m done being cynical, my eyelids begin drooping of their own accord. A little girl skips back and forth across my field of vision every so often to read out the time on the big digital clock to her nervous mother; her shiny red shoes bouncing off the carpet, prolonging my lingering state of consciousness.
In the days of innocence I knew a girl named Dorothy…


Tomoyasu Hotei – Battle Without Honor or Humanity
Gheorghe Zamfir – The Lonely Shepherd

Again

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Barely literate motherfuckers, screwing the country out of a step in the right direction. The GOVERNMENT wants to ban the sale of condoms… well, A condom anyway.

I was surprised to discover that they actually manufacture and retail cool stuff like this here – it’s a ribbed condom with a battery powered vibrating ring. So what do the backward scum running this particular state do? Call for a ban on the product… it’s a sex toy and apparently sex toys are “tainted portions of western culture that we can do without.” Stupid sons of bitches.
In this goddam country with too many goddam people who just can’t stop squirting out more people, anything that puts the brakes on the population rise is as good as a gift from the gods. Shit, they should start giving them away in promotionals on the street! But instead of realizing that this will encourage men to slip on a rubber before banging, these no-brain dipshits choose to reject it.

Pricks, this “tainted culture” was the need of the hour right when your mommas couldn’t keep their legs together long enough to stop the foundations of your asses being laid.
But this country has always been too damn stupid to understand that more kids mean more mouths to feed and less space to live in. Instead it has always seen the picture as more kids mean more sources of income to the family. And then comes female foeticide, while illiteracy continues to compound the problem.

I feel sorry for the children. They are born into a country with an old tradition of stupidity that passes down from generation to generation and before they know it they’ve inherited the stupidity and begun passing brain cells in their daily excrement.

More ridiculosity?? They want to ban a social networking site throughout the country.
Why? Religious and political sentiments. Damn… if I had a buck for every time some new pretender mouths off on this religious/political/patriotic/bullshit bullshit, I would never finish calculating how rich I had become.
An unfortunate side effect of Google, orkut.com is frequented by an enormous number of users largely including South Asians with too much time and too little brainage. Accepted, the site is a pain in the ass and that is pretty much how I feel about all “social networking” websites. But if you want to block out a site, at least want it for the right reason.

Dickheads, this website, as with all “social networking” sites, is a haven for voyeuristic perverts. Know this. Screw your faux religious sentiment and screw your fake nationalist pride. When too many people begin to use public forums for slander, mis-representation and invasion of privacy as a means to feed their fetishes and frustrations, THAT is a valid reason to want to block.
If you can’t stop the pervs from peeping through the hole, you take away the hole.


I’m going to build me an ark and pray for rain. The country has been taking an incessant dump on itself (however the hell that is possible) and it’s about time someone hit the flush.

Stiff Upper Lip

I’m on my way home and again I’ll have to turn back the Blogger clock by a day so that I can fit this into May.

03:00, June 2nd, Changi, Singapore… I have no other alternative but to find a quiet spot where I can plug my computer into a power outlet and connect to one of the wireless hotspots here. Sleep is not an option for now. With nothing else to do for six and a half hours, I write. Although the mood hasn’t quite struck me, I still need to make the date.

I’ve had a good couple of months and rather than regretting that it’s over, I’ll choose to be glad that I had them. At the start of the year I was afraid that there was nothing to look forward to until my I took my winter break at the end of the year. Then this happened and it’s been incredibly refreshing. Work didn’t change by very much, but the environment made all the difference.
But again, I don’t listen to myself very much, so yes, I am regretting that it is over.

One thing that this trip has brought back to the surface is my biggest fear. No, not the fear of a whole year without anything to look forward to; I can deal with monotony one way or another.
It has tortured me ever so long: that dreadful moment when someone or worse, everyone realizes that I’m nothing more than a big, fat, fucking fake. I don’t even know what I know and I’m more convinced of what I don’t know. But as long as I keep up the façade, people will believe that I’m doing something worth something. Years of education, people’s time and money, down the crapper. It’s quite sickening.
Friends too. I don’t know that I give back more than or even as much as I take from them.

Anyway fuckers, and I refer to anyone who happens to read this, this is not your opportunity to call this stereotypical blogger emotional venting. This is not a web log and I am not a web logger. These are my thoughts placed here because I will otherwise lose them forever very soon. If you happen to read them, I cannot pluck out your eyes or drain your brain. I am not omnipresent and/or omnipotent because I am not a God.
You are however, free to think otherwise anytime you want.


Wednesday evening was a melancholy one as I stuffed my suitcases and worried about my botched internet check-in attempt. That aisle seat I wanted looked really far away right then. Music was on, but it was mainly serving the purpose of background noise. Suddenly I realized the song that was playing and everything vanished. Restart, on full blast and that moment made my entire fucking day! California Dreamin’. There’s never anything quite like some good, old fashioned, hard earned MUSIC to put the spirit back into things.

Today we see the murder of music. Very, very little of what poses as music, being created today has the stamina to weather the years so that future generations can appreciate what their predecessors appreciated.
Music used to stand for something. Liberty. Expression. Whatever you want to call that something. The same meaning is quickly being eroded by the very people who were born as a byproduct of it.


Sometimes, the easiest way to lose something is to want it too much. This is nice, but it’s horribly infuriating that I can’t remember where I heard it.

Coincidence?? I heard Bang-a-Gong on three different movies on three different channels on the same day – Saturday the 6th. Either T-Rex is still very much in fashion or something’s really going on!!
And that’s not the first time anything like this has happened. I’ve watched six different Lauren Holly movies in a single week, again different channels, all found while flipping through. Then again, three separate movies linking to Alfonse Cuaron in a single weekend. I had never heard of him before that.
I have been involved in so MANY coincidences like this, that I have stopped trying to count or recollect them all anymore. Weird life.

“TV on the Radio” is an actual band? WTFF?!!
I didn’t know that when I wrote the lyric.


Nelly Furtado – Say It Right
Black Box – Ride On Time

Heart

I’ve finally moved outside the homeland and quite unexpectedly, I’ve been having a good time. I didn’t expect to enjoy one bit of this, but here I am, wishing I had this chance sooner. I’m not an accommodating kind or the adaptive type, but I’m taking to it pretty darn well. I’m kinda worried that I disassociated from home too soon, though.
Moving between hotel rooms became like second nature for a few weeks and suddenly finding myself without anything to do on some weekend now has become an ordeal, as though it was never that way before I left home.

Alcohol has been a good friend and I miss her when she leaves me. But she always comes back; maybe I’m the one who always goes back, but there’s no need to get into the specifics of it all.
And ham. And Twizzlers!! Mmm, ham and Twizzlers…

April! It’s over!! I can now reasonably begin counting the days till the end of it all. Back to mundanity. That’s not even a fucking word, but I always care!
I miss April already.
Actually I miss the awesome end of March AND all of April. May don’t look so hot.

Happy Day, Mom. Early.


Today is actually the first day of May but I will pretend it’s still April. I’m good at pretending. Ask anyone I’ve worked with, they’ll tell you I’m probably not. And that’s why I’m so damn good!

Oh, and you can safely begin ignoring that picture to the left side there. It would be more than accurate to say that it’s been MANY moons since I resembled that.



Sophie B. Hawkins – Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover
Gnarls Barkley – Crazy