I think I wear my trousers two sizes big..

I was out shopping in Europe last week. (And also had to give a couple of talks while at it). Did well, spoke well outta my arse.. realized a lot, people seemed impressed and all those good things. Also, got to travel a bit.

Everything you read about the place is true. Yes, it is indeed haunted by the ghosts of the Renaissance thinkers who ride across the lands from the Caucasus mountains in their Enduro mud bikes. Kiddin.. excuse the early morning brain fizz!! Must be the jet lag. I actually mean, life in general was great and ornately beautiful. The trains were lovely and clean. The food included a lot of coffee.. and the journey, a lot of musing. A phantasmic peace travelled along. Did not have to worry much about things (though I did run into the Swiss police once without my passport on me and they threatened to put in jail next time, but it's alrite I survived =p).

Among other things, visited the Allianz Arena in Munich, even after this disaster early this month!! Went around clicking touristy pictures at other places, some of which are on the google photos thing. Spent a lot of money unbecoming of a grad student. The credit card company must be happy.

And the women.. of course. Were (very) well dressed, seem smart, were efficacious and importantly, were into guys with dark hair/eyes (which also advocates the 'smart' remark). They all seem to know a 'lil bit' of English but always know where 'you' are.

Fun, it was. Yes.

Ironic post (?)

Cricket shall no longer be discussed on this blog (or in person).
Thank you.

[RETRACTED, April 2007]

A conversation with the "intelligent" man

me: i think i have a great decision to make tonite
p: aha
me: my friends have brought tickets to "the namesake" .. but i have a class now
p: dude!
me: i am contemplating
p: class will be there always, if not this quarter next
me: hehe.. no man.. i also have to prepare a presentation "while listening to the class"
p: ah

(15 minutes later)

me: hehe. anyway.. it has come that time.. when need arises for me to leave
p: for class... or for movie?
me: to attend the class.. sigh
p: cha unfair life
me: very very
p: this is called attending class for namesake!!

Errm.. so the Persians dig Boy George?

The movie was watched yesterday amidst great suspended animation. Yes, very Frank Miller-esque. Yes, very stunning. Yet.. umm.. disappointing at some level. Which is admittedly a callous remark, considering it was everything that the Nine Inch Nails soundtracked promos had promised. Unfortunately though, it just seemed that. A long cutscene from some war-game.

Great battles are not (only) made from dozens of six pacs against green screens, they need a lil more than a Spartan helmet being razed down by a rain of arrows to kick them into a league of greatness. When a hero falls, there is a certain pathos that lingers in the room. There is still a ghost in the room everytime Maximus Decimus Meridius falls.

When a few hundreds look into a sea of a million gory faced monsters, you smell grandeur. You call for their blood. You cheer the warcries. Certain scenes are written on a plane of genius, say Helm's Deep or Minas Tirith from LOTR. To capture this imagination on screen is a work of art as well. To compare Tolkien to Miller, or Peter Jackson to Zack Snyder is neither accurate nor fair. But this is pop culture we are talking about, and there is always room for a lil good old fashioned lit art between all the Trent Reznor's. It's a bit of Warhol cinema, we are being treated to recently.

But I think this one missed it's draw.

.. and Sundae

(pic removed for whimsical reasons)

Saturday!!

I believe the week begins on a Saturday afternoon. Saturdays with noons when you see strange looking creatures with a pink eye and a yellow nose, walk in to scare you.. shouting out "lezzgo" like a war-struck Spartan in Thermopylae. (All hail Leonidas!!) Afternoons, when you realize there is still coke left from the midnight's vending machine raid for brunch and enough empty wrappers lying around to feed an entire generation of trash cans. Afternoons, when you believe you ve seen enough 70's videos for the year. (Random trivia question, how many verisons of Bohemian Rhapsody exist on youtube?)

The afternoons.. such sinful gluttony to lie half asleep on the bed and watch the clouds pass by the towers like some Englishman, tipping his hat to the random Bob on the parkbench and nestling the newspaper under his arm. On his bicycle.

Actually, I think they are more like trips to the Cheesecake factory. Very innocuously indulgent. You could lose the whole day waiting for those truffle cheese cakes, and when you finally get to it.. you realize your parking meter has expired. But lunches on Saturdays are more sorta evening rituals to be performed only under consummate necessity and more importantly involving minimal impulsion.

Much should be written about this beautiful day - that is today. I should try looking something up. (And also, yeah.. happy holi!!)

But are n't you glad it is a Saturday? Makes the whole week ahead look so.. mmm.. distant.

In other news, I think I ve adopted two kids recently and absolutely adore both of them.