A Ridiculously long Time...

Good grief. Last post: 15th August, 2012.
That's rather a long while.

It isn't as if nothing blog-worthy has happened since then. Concerts, Sports Days, exams, CHRISTMAS for crying out loud. In a nutshell, everything that has ever been fully blog-worthy in my life has finally passed, and I haven't written a single thing since August. And that isn't even a proper post.

Just to keep up to date, I finally watched 'The Hobbit' on Christmas Eve. Nine years, I have waited. No kidding. And I wan't disappointed. Critics may be hammering the daylights out of Jackson's latest franchise, but, to be very blunt, who cares? I don't. For one, just returning to Middle-Earth on the big screen is something I've been waiting for for half my life. Sure, as far as CGI and the action sequences went, it was a tad over-the-top, but that too for a LOTR prequel. Compared to all the horrors that have come out since 'Fellowship' in the name of a renewed fantasy film market, 'The Hobbit' hardly counts as over-the-top. I would have preferred it if the dwarves didn't just fall into crevices in caves and miraculously recover unharmed a la 'Pirates of the Caribbean', but it did nothing to damage the sheer elation that was the rest of the film. And the 48 fps? well, excuse me, but I liked it.

On another note, it turns out that my blog has had more page-views from Australia than India. Thanks, Spandu, for helping me go international.

Behold...

Words don't do justice to this. I always thought so, and I was right...

Actually, Asa looks more like Sherlock here than Benedict.

Biological Reflection

A girl whose cheeks are covered with paint
Has an advantage with me over one whose ain't.

-Ogden Nash

This fellow's a genius, I tell you.
Take this, for example:

A Caution To Everybody

Consider the auk;
Becoming extinct because he forgot how to fly, and could only walk.
Consider man, who may well become extinct
Because he forgot how to walk and learned how to fly before he thinked.

 

Or this:

 

Bankers Are Just Like Anybody Else, Except Richer

This is a song to celebrate banks,
Because they are full of money and you go into them and all
you hear is clinks and clanks,
Or maybe a sound like the wind in the trees on the hills,
Which is the rustling of the thousand dollar bills.
Most bankers dwell in marble halls,
Which they get to dwell in because they encourage deposits
and discourage withdrawals,
And particularly because they all observe one rule which woe
betides the banker who fails to heed it,
Which is you must never lend any money to anybody unless
they don't need it.
I know you, you cautious conservative banks!
If people are worried about their rent it is your duty to deny
them the loan of one nickel, yes, even one copper engraving
of the martyred son of the late Nancy Hanks;
Yes, if they request fifty dollars to pay for a baby you must
look at them like Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the
jungle,
And tell them what do they think a bank is, anyhow, they had
better go get the money from their wife's aunt or ungle.
But suppose people come in and they have a million and they
want another million to pile on top of it,
Why, you brim with the milk of human kindness and you
urge them to accept every drop of it,
And you lend them the million so then they have two million
and this gives them the idea that they would be better off
with four,
So they already have two million as security so you have no
hesitation in lending them two more,
And all the vice-presidents nod their heads in rhythm,
And the only question asked is do the borrowers want the
money sent or do they want to take it withm.
Because I think they deserve our appreciation and thanks,
the jackasses who go around saying that health and happi-
ness are everything and money isn't essential,
Because as soon as they have to borrow some unimportant
money to maintain their health and happiness they starve
to death so they can't go around any more sneering at good
old money, which is nothing short of providential.

 

In one of those moods again...

I follow the Moskva

Down to Gorky Park

Listening to the wind of change.

No matter how many times I listen to the song- even if I listen to it over and over- I still feel the same feelings. The sadness and the desperation of a world torn apart. The dreams and beliefs of a section of humanity that simply doesn't want to fight any more. The vigourous dream that maybe, just maybe, things will change- that, one day, we will all stand together, dump all our money on Wall Street, and usher in a new age of peace and freedom.

That dream seems unlikely, but maybe, just maybe...

Hello there. It's been a shamefully long time since I've blogged, so, keeping with tradition of slacking off when I'm supposed to be studying, I've decided to finally sit down and write something. Not that anything noteworthy hasn't happened. I mean, there were debates (in various languages), arguments, football matches, investiture(s), band practices... in short, more than I ever thought I was capable of pulling off in a month's time. It's not like there wasn't time either, in between the long hours of slacking off in front of my books. There just never was the inclination. (Lord help me, the grammar in that last one was atrocious).

Anyway, we had a band get-together this Sunday, and I can honestly say that I have never, ever run around that much in my life before, even when I was a kid. First we had to set up the Treasure Hunt, then we had to guide the search parties, then we had to clean up the remains of the Treasure Hunt. Noon to ten-thirty. Ten-and-a-half hours. I swear, it was almost as bad as Expressions. Actually, no. Nothing could ever be as bad as Expressions. That was at least a hundred-and-twenty hours, non-stop.
There was a lot more besides the Treasure Hunt, of course, and, all in all, it was rather amazing.
I'm already preparing for my farewell speech for next year, lest I break down like my seniors.

As usual, the dream was shattered the next afternoon, when the grim reality of the world outside the band hit. I did, however, learn a valuable lesson, and that is that taking the blame and feeling guilty is far easier than voicing your convictions. Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way, and, also, according to research, apparently the best way. I finally understand what PK was talking about. Damn.

So there you have it, a resurrection, if you will, of the blog, and a precursor to what will hopefully be a long list of future blog-posts.

Pagan sympathies...

It's been so long, for a minute, I even forgot what my blog was called.

I find it unusual that, nowadays, I only seem to find inspiration when the weather is so perfectly... British.

So here I am, listening to The Wicker Man soundtrack again, and envisioning a new pagan society, again.

Goddamn Christianity ruined everything. Before everyone started believing that sexual intercourse was a mortal sin, it was something beautiful. The surrealism and sheer passion and the act was worshiped so fervently. The union of two beings in bliss is something to revel in, not be ashamed of. Nowadays, all that's left is dirty, perverted, disgusting pornography. It's hard, even, to imagine a society in which there exists such openness, where you could learn about the reproductive system without the girls blushing, and the boys sniggering and cracking jokes about orgasms. A society in which you didn't need to delete browser history, simply because you wouldn't have anything there that you needed to delete.

Rain makes everything better...

Life can't get much better than listening to Celtic music on a rainy night. These are the times when I know that I was a Celt in a previous birth. I mean, I can feel it. The magic, and pure mental and spiritual harmony.

Riding in the poring rain over the green Scottish hills for hours. The purity and timelessness of the magical Scottish highlands. The sound of distant bagpipes echoing through the glens. I won't say much more- it'll ruin the magic.