Saturday, January 30, 2010

In Yellow Light

This feels like an evening when I should sit back silently in a brown sofa in the cigar room and surround myself with father figure men drinking good old scotch while discussing politics and the erratic weather.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Nine Fifty Five

To the man sleeping on the bus stop,

I see you here everyday.
You're rather decently dressed to be the man sleeping on the bus stop, aren’t you?
It's nine fifty-five in the morning.
And you look quite fresh.
Did you shower at home and decide to come lie here?
Or do you not have a home at all.
Your hair is grey but your mustache is black, which makes me believe you’re a frequent user of the cheap liquid hair dye they sell in a pouch.
You seem quite comfortable here.
In fact, on occasion, I’ve even seen you turning on your side to make sure the sunlight is falling on your newspaper just the way you want it to.
I'm not surprised you can read. I'm glad that you can. But can you comprehend what you're reading?
How much money are you carrying in the pockets of your dark brown trousers today? Is it currency? Or loose change? I would bet on it to be both.
And are you, in the least bit concerned about losing those intricate creases on your clean white shirt?
Anyway, now that I've beat around the bush enough, what I really wanted to ask you was, isn't the metal from these new steely bus stops really cold to sleep on?


Do you love me?
Well, it's a meaningless question, but I suppose not.

RIP J.D.Salinger

Holden Caulfield, you will always, always, always be my first hero, antihero and crush.

... Because you said things like, "It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes."

And things like, "It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road. "

With things like,
"Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."

And chose to end with, "Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

... All of which made the teens seem that much more normal, regular, usual.


Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Cul de Sac

Oh what's all this gushing worth anyway?
An odd design here,
A queer word there,
A fiercely guarded secret,
And a beating snare.

Notes to the Self about Walking into Wooden Doors and Glass Windows

Dear Motor Cortex,

Get a grip!
Ok, I'll rephrase.
Watch where you’re going.
Stop walking into doors and transparent glass.
The end of your face should be brought on by a bout of acne.
More than it should by the violent crash of razor sharp shards in your small face.
Remember, even though you may not embarrass easily, people accompanying you do.
And the only reason your sister didn’t abandon you the time you walked splat onto the iStore instead of into it, is because she loves you, and you were living away from home at the time.
Much recently, even though nobody saw you walking into the huge, teak wood door at home in the dead of the night, twice in the past two weeks, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
So, come to terms. Stage an intervention. Get a miner's light affixed to your forehead, if you must.
But. Please. Stop.
There are far too many adulterous things that you could be using the excuse ‘I walked into a door’ for to be wasting it on reality.
So please let it stay that way.
And continue exploiting it for all the right reasons.
For the sake of your face. And everyone else’s.

With love and hope,
Yours frighteningly,

Run for Your Life and Never Look Back

Motto XVII, courtesy Hunter S. Thompson

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Hot Flashes of Electronica

In a bout of utter stupidity, I gave ♥TEDDY BOY KILL a miss when they played the Frog live in Bombay a few months ago.

Big mistakes happen sometimes. This was one of them.

As always, their album 'The Exit Plan' landed in my lap a few months later, but being the true hoarder of music that I am, I took a few months to listen to it and finally, now that i have ... ... ...
What a mindblowingly blippy trip it is!

Way over the base clutter and clam of electronica as we've seen it in India, Teddy Boy Kill have really gone far out and got themselves an overly edgy (in a good way), solid, pumping sound while keeping the traditional glitchy bleeps and bloops in place. Although the chances of you being fully blown away the first time you listen to the album are little, I do think that if you aren't up and grooving in a tizzy, dizzy, frenzy while listening to first track, and now anthem, 'Tonic', you're either not paying attention or it's time to start worrying.

I've seen a lot of electronica do the rounds over the past year and like someone said, this duo could really make the Midival Punditz (sadly, not the MIDIval PunditZ anymore) and Talvin Singh seem like pocket change.

Now if you'll excuse me, blogwords, I have to get back to allowing Toymob + AudioPervert go all electro-magnetic-cerebral on me.

Head to their Myspace for magic.

Sunday, January 24, 2010


Over the past few months I have been...

...wearing way too much matched, circular silver,

... stocking up on dresses and swishy skirts with colors and prints,

... watching the sky catch fire quite often,

...getting too many motto tattoos,

...using mms to send pictures of coolest-jacket-ever,

... and losing one too many a favorite sock.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

I am the Fail Whale

Zero sleep propelled by raging thoughts that wish to compete with the speed of light, has rendered me white, heavy and happy numb.

Therefore, today, I am the Fail Whale and the Fail Whale is me.

And I am indeed truly, terrifically, tragically overcapacity.

Oh and Twitter, #epic #fail

Monday, January 18, 2010


Today feels like one of those days I should write with a pencil on paper instead of set myself a-stabbin' at the keyboard.
Today also feels like one of those days I should lie back and watch 'The Big Lebowski' for the seventh time since 2009.
And today also feels like a day to say 'Get me cake because even the Queen wanted us to have it'.
What today doesn't feel like, though, is an unpeeled onion.
And since I just asked Basakbabies, "Are you using a car to replace a child?" in my first conversation of the morning, I think the time has come to scram... and get headphones, music and cake.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Color Logic

If relationship were red, companionship would have to be pink.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Somebody Else's Guitar Heroes

Managed to catch up with three weeks worth of reading on My Reader and stumbled on something I liked at Maxim Dalton's blog.


It features all of his Guitar Heroes and if you bother to look closely you'll see Frank Zappa, George Harrison, Slash, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Richards, Jimmy Page, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Brian May, Johnny Ramone, Jack White, The Edge, Chuck Berry, Angus Young, Pete Townshend, Tony Iommi, Eddie Van Halen, David Gilmour, Ace Frehley, Ritchie Blackmore, Duane Allman, Kirk Hammett, Carlos Santana, John Frusciante, Yngwie Malmsteen, Kurt Cobain, Mike Bloomfield, Jerry Garcia, Ry Cooder, Bo Diddley, Jeff Beck, Tom Morello, Brian Setzer & Peter Green.

I zoomed in and squinted thoroughly to try and figure if they were somewhat replicas, and they really really are!

And as far as the is-he-really-a-guitar-hero bit goes, try not to dig too deep, I just really like the graphic!

Canvas Color Jam

I was supposed to spend the weekend making shoes for her and him but as we all know the weekend has just forty eight hours in which I was supposed to snatch back lost sleep, writing, reading and four precious kilos of body weight whilst pursuing my love for shoes and color and ensuring these two had great footwear to flaunt by mid week more or less, but , by the end of Sunday, only she had shoes worth somewhat of a double take while I had ones that looked like something I picked from an angry-candy store for kids and as Monday dawned the hunt for a size ten canvas shoe resumed again, just as did the week, with its barrage of loaded briefs, forehead smacking gagagoo, trigger finger texts and much lip service.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Fader reinforces Featherweight

I spent a good three months or so obsessing about The Temper Trap when I was introduced to them by someone who’d watched them live this summer at that motherfatherofallmusicfestivals, Glastonbury. Man, Glastonbury! They’re a bunch of 4 kids (yeah, they really are!) from the land of the Oz (one of them is actually called Lorenzo) making some insanely eclectic music.

And this song, Fader, makes me want to dive, jump and crash into a trampoline, on a beach, and never get off it!

I was expecting the video to work the insides of my head the same way the audio did but as it turns out, it’s just the band placed geometrically amidst a stream of orange, red and yellow suspended tube lights. Not the most awesome thing, but hey, switch your window, do your stuff and just make sure you have your headphones still plugged in!

Digi Space Reunion Boom

I’m getting my digi personality in shape,
Uniting my Blogger, Twitter, Reader in the digi space.
Because I’m such a digital astronaut,
Little gleek, much geek and code très taut.
It’s time to reunite the digi deck and dock,
Find a link, space and shelter for my grand tech bloc.

Addendum Amalgam: Tweets now on the blog! Look! Your 4 O'clock. Scroll. There there are!

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

'We just need a place'

Giving close held, over valued online relationships, chats and plans their due… by making someone chuckle.

Gyuri: When the hell are you teaching me yoga?
Mutant: One of these days at Su's house. Why don’t you just do a course? They’ll teach you everything.
Gyuri: Once again you have proved your worthlessness.
Mutant: No no. I’ll teach you. We just need a place.
Oh if only I could count the number of times that line has been said to me and vice versa.