Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Streptococcus diplococcus staphylococcus. Which one to?

Monday, April 18, 2011

It might look like a recent tendency but you can always depend upon me to tell the truth. The only reason I wouldn't is if I were feeling like Mario, running under a blazing blue sky with angry owls everywhere and nothing but red brick to run into and jump off. It needs some postponement of priorities because not having to take this shit is obviously more important than standing and wondering what the hell is going on. And with that moustache too. Insaane. Like setting yourself down in the midst of unknown people just so you can take a stock of things in general. So if I'm running and running and running and running and running and running and running and running till I beat my own tiredness away and suddenly I'm not anymore, you know how it is. Like Mario. I'm exactly the kind of person who wants to do a Thoreau but can't, I'll hover on the edge of the wild because I'm too greedy to give up on hearing human voices, so much easier to just maintain a passing from one to another because it's all permeable isn't it, everything is. Look at the universe. There and back again, to and fro and on and on. Not really an inconvenient thing, now that I think about it, just a type of constancy. Which is why my tall tales are also consistent ones. I mean them, no kidding.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Twenty Ways to Insult a Nose

DE GUICHE: Will no one put him down?
THE VISCOUNT: No one? But wait!
  I'll treat him to ... one of my quips! See here! 
(He goes up to Cyrano, who is watching him. With a conceited air):
  Sir, your nose is - hmm - it is... very big!
CYRANO (gravely): Very!
THE VISCOUNT (laughing): Ha!
CYRANO (imperturbably): Is that all?
THE VISCOUNT: What do you mean?
CYRANO: Ah no, young blade!  That was a trifle short!
 You might have said at least a hundred things
 By varying the tone... like this, suppose,

 Aggressive:  'Sir, if I had such a nose
 I'd amputate it!'  
 Friendly:  'When you sup
 It must annoy you, dipping in your cup;
 You need a drinking-bowl of special shape!'
 Descriptive:  ''Tis a rock! a peak! a cape!
 --A cape, forsooth!  'Tis a peninsular!'
 Curious:  'How serves that oblong capsular?
 For scissor-sheath?  Or pot to hold your ink?'
 Gracious:  'You love the little birds, I think?
 I see you've managed with a fond research
 To find their tiny claws a roomy perch!'
 Truculent:  'When you smoke your pipe ... suppose
 That the tobacco-smoke spouts from your nose--
 Do not the neighbors, as the fumes rise higher,
 Cry terror-struck:  "The chimney is afire"?'
 Considerate:  'Take care, your head bowed low
 By such a weight, lest head o'er heels you go!'
 Tender:  'Pray get a small umbrella made,
 Lest its bright color in the sun should fade!'
 Pedantic:  'That beast Aristophanes
 Names Hippocamelelephantoles
 Must have possessed just such a solid lump
 Of flesh and bone, beneath his forehead's bump!'
 Cavalier:  'The last fashion, friend, that hook?
 To hang your hat on?  'Tis a useful crook!'
 Emphatic:  'No wind, O majestic nose,
 Can give THEE cold!--save when the mistral blows!'
 Dramatic:  'When it bleeds, what a Red Sea!'
 Admiring:  'Sign for a perfumery!'
 Lyric:  'Is this a conch? a Triton you?'
 Simple:  'When is the monument on view?'
 Rustic:  'That thing a nose?  Marry-come-up!
 'Tis a dwarf pumpkin, or a prize turnip!'
 Military:  'Point against cavalry!'
 Practical:  'Put it in a lottery!
 Assuredly 'twould be the biggest prize!'
 Or ... parodying Pyramus' sighs ...
 'Behold the nose that mars the harmony
 Of its master's phiz! blushing its treachery!'
 --Such, my dear sir, is what you might have said,
-Edmond Rostand, from Cyrano de Bergerac
Big noses FTW. Mine especially =)

Saturday, April 9, 2011

I went a long time hoping no one in my part of this world would ever, ever discover this cover because it's so perfect but we'll have no more of that, thank you. Before this my favourite version used to be the Fran Healy cover on Storytellers, I remember watching it on TV and it turned me inside out right in the middle of the living room sofa, but that's nothing compared to the meltdown of this song. I unfailingly wake up once a month to these PMS Saturday mornings where I want to scream and scream like a baboon on stimulants but I turn one song on repeat instead, and this is it today.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Here's some bizarre/beautiful. Looking at this photograph (from The Sartorialist) reminded me of Anna Kavan's Ice. It's a strange brutal claustrophobic book, the kind that makes you realise what a convenient word strange is when you're trying to find something that fits. Which brings me to the girl in it. Take this picture here, subtract the accessories and gold shoes and runway makeup and it's the same girl. Which is why it's strange that it should jump out right in the midst of all this inspiration Googling, but then everything always leads to something else from long ago, which is, in a spiralling sort of way, the book all over again.

Decluttering requires a certain amount of sanctity, I think, which explains why I clean up only around once a month. Till then, dirt is my friend :)  

Monday, April 4, 2011

This blog's really jumped the shark, eh? Now for some inexplicable hamming.


Hooha, I maked perpendiculars.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

I've realised that things at Prantik (and thereabouts) look prettiest by night. It helps if one can get on a rickshaw. A twenty minute passing through by low ceilinged homes with yellow light spilling out onto the road. Carrom clubs with heads and hands in focus and the rest nothing but dark smudges. Tea stalls with Hurricanes shining through steam from boiling milk. That landscape-in-the-mist place filled to bursting with fireflies at seven. Bicycle bulbs in the blackness, riders silhouetted against headlights further down the road. There's much to be said about the absence of tubelights in general. I never miss it till I feel like reading, and even then I have my phone so as far as comfort goes, light that cocoons is-just-something-else. And no one has a photo of it. Even better.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

It was not because I wanted to shift that I came by your place last week, it was because I wanted to grab you by the neck and fling you out the window and onto a branch of nodding flowers outside. Orange flowers. Round pale leaves. I don't know what they're called but you'd have been at home there, crawling down the bark with your tail in the air. I can't stand the way you blink at me nowadays and I can't stand the way you sneak your tongue out and steal food when no one is looking but what I mostly can't stand is how your scales are shinier than mine.