Tell me it was just a dream..
August 7th, 10.15
God closed his eyes and the world got mean
August 7th, 10.15...

I'll never forget you.
RIP Zulu, I know you're still watching over us...

It's only words...

Each day that you don't piss me off, I think I love you a little more...

Nothing like a letter/mail from a loved one first thing in the morning...ahhh...It's friggin' hot outside, but the warm feeling is totally worth it. But why is it so much easier to say stuff in emails than in person...? Maybe sometimes looking at the words feels a helluva lot better than hearing them. Just so you can read them over and over, like feeling his/her name rolling around in your mouth when you say it secretly to yourself, when no one's around. Can't imagine asking "say that nice thing you said again...again...once more...last time..please??".

So much easier reading. Instant and repeated gratification. No need to give a reaction. No need to say 'me too', and then have to explain why I don't say the words themselves. Reading those words again and again, days or even months later, giving and receiving the same intensity, like a grown addiction that I can't deny...

Do that to me one more time, Little One...

Hoo boy...who'da thunk...

Turned out I was late to the party... I was too busy at the earlier two! First was with the boys at the hippie's place. 8 p.m. Halfway thru, saw the machchar was back from his B'lore sojourn. Naturellement, Masha was with him. Figured on a quick beer and then off to Datta's. Silly billy...I forgot there's no such thing as a 'quick beer'.

Once again, I missed the recorder. Can't remember the beginning, but do remember we touched politics (a given, with the current elections) but on a theoretical level, BPOs, communes, the Netherlands (oh, yeah!) and twenty other things, and they were all connected. At about 11, when I shoulda been picking up my guitar and hauling ass to the land of free beer, both of them made the mistake of insisting on hearing my Happiness Theory. Another hour. Gone. No time is as wasted as time without alcohol on a Friday night. But y'know, the more I tell others and the more I discuss my Happiness Theory, the more sense it makes to me...

Anywho, made it over to Datta's by some 12.30 ish...people too happy to be pissed off, happiness follows. Retox levels achieved. Hot damn, nothing rocks like 3 parties on a Friday night...

Partay!!

Damn, we've been itching to party at (read: trash) Datta's place after NYE...here's the pilot project!

Boy's become an uncle, so partay! Like we need an excuse. Amit, Bala and I sat at the Airport canteen for about 2 hours after a night show, trying to find better things to do with our weekends. In-fuckin-evitably, much as we tried to avoid it, we were forced to conclude that alcohol is unavoidable. I told the buffoons that right at the beginning, but noooo...they had to play Angels vs the Badman. So we wasted 2 good hours arguing over a foregone conclusion. No shit, Sherlock (pls refer to the Schitt family genealogy on Australo's blog -> top left, shit no, the other left).

So, ennnyway, tonite's party kicks off at 11. Yo! And the weather is smashing...so we will be singing the happy weather song..

Oh, whattay laauuly weather...let us make laauuu together...

My guitar has been requested. We'll jam thru the night, into the light...damn, she won't be there. And I'll be reminded sorely of the lovely NYE we spent and I'll miss her terribly. There better be a BIG bloody pot of honey at the end of this black rainbow...

I'll be pitching the party games party idea to Datta tonight. And with the new music, may this be the beginning of a long and beautiful association between me, the music, substances, beautiful people, and the hours of early a.m.
Boom Shankar!

And now, without further ado...

Nothing like re-establishing contact with old best friend-worst enemy/rival in love triangle.

Neither of us got her. Well, technically, he DID 'get' her, but he screwed up. Like I did, later, in my OTHER best friend love triangle. Holy shit - come to think of it, I've had 3 of those. THREE! THREE!!!! That's it. I'm taking my next woman to the mountains for the rest of her natural life. I've lost too many best friends to this love shit.

Ain't no mountain high enough...
Ain't no love story complicated enough (to match mine)...

I'm either really good or really bad at this - I just have to figure out which. You'da thunk 10 years might have been enough to figure it out.

Damn.

I hate maturity. It's SO not cool.

The money's good though...*sigh* Priority check.

Oy! What's wrong with Blogger? I can't go to any of my blogspot links...any except N-G, that is...
Weird.

Directionally challenged

For the longest time, the only way I could differentiate 'left' from 'right' was by associating the fact that I ate with my 'right' hand. So, every time I had to do something which involved sides or direction, I'd first pretend I was eating. So my right hand would go to my mouth, then I'd figure ah! This is the right side, and proceed to do whatever it was I was doing with this new knowledge.

And I'd never seem to actually register a permanent record. It was like learning anew every time. And it sometimes got embarassing too. A person that old shouldn't need 30 seconds to realise which side was which. Soon, people at home learnt not to give me, the directionally challenged inmate, tasks which required this skill. Such as 'Put the too-hot-to-touch cup on the left, so I don't touch it by accident' or 'Get my handbag from the car - it's the one on the right'.

I sometimes feel sorry for the people sitting with me on the bike or in the car. Well, at least they can say their lives have flashed before their eyes several times, not just once or twice like other, unluckier people.

How do I love thee...

Amritha (Madhu's friend) is getting married next month.

She's known her fiancee for 6 months, but only thru the phone - never met him in person. Now, she wants to give him 180 cards on their wedding day - one for each day she's known and loved him. And she wants Madhu to help her write stuff in the cards.

PUH-LEEEAASE!!!

How do I even KNOW these people?? Jeez - marriage is supposed to signify reaching a certain level of mental maturity, not regression to high school crush level. And for frig's sake, if YOU love him and YOU are going to marry him, write them cards yourself innit? It may not be easy and you may not have enough to say for 180 cards...ahhh..see where this is going?? There's no point in giving him 180 friggin' cards! And if he's anything near normal, he's more likely to be pissed off than anything else. And then you'll be disappointed with his reaction, then he won't know what to say/do...it'll all be a humongous mess. But oh, hold it, what am I thinking expecting you to forsee/understand this?? YOU want to give him 180 CARDS! B.p...b.p...breathe...breathe...

*sigh* Anyway, the reason I started was to look at it from the love angle. I was wondering, if I were to write the one I love a few cards, how many would I be able to write before I ran out of words? Of course, I'd hardly go after those 'quotes' and 'sayings' and corny 'poems' high school girls write down religiously in their pink diaries with hearts all over them, in the fervent hope that they'd win over the hunkiest jock because of the heart-wrenching emotion behind them. I'd just say it straight.

I'd tell her I've never met anyone else I can just stare at for so long and not know the passage of time. I'd tell her I've never met anyone who I can be so comfortable in silence with. I'd tell her how I want her to be with me wherever I am and whatever I'm doing. I'd tell her how it's been so long and how I still feel I know so little. I'd tell her the future I've planned for us. I'd tell her how she could do all her funky mathematical calculations with all the words I've said, and I could still come up with more crap to keep her laughing and sheltered from sadness. I'd tell her I've got so much more to give, I'd ask her to stay, and let Bob Seger explain how we've got tonight and how she won't need tomorrow...

Pi

Watched the film yesterday. Was expecting to be blown away (having watched Requiem for a Dream); was more like a gentle breeze.

I've heard people rave about this movie, and it IS brilliant in many aspects. Direction, sound (oh, mama! and not just the music), acting...but I did feel the script was weak. Compared to RFAD, this is disappointing. The ideas it leaves in your head about fundamental patterns are very interesting, though. Darren Aronoffsky, writer and director, seems to have combined many 'wow!that's amazing/freaky!'-type ideas with some interesting cinematic techniques in the hope of creating brilliance. And it works, partly.

Anyway, me the movie-buff is far happier for having watched 'Pi' than NOT having watched it. And I would definitely watch it again - there's a helluva lot to learn and enjoy...

Official Mail

The Buddhist monk went to the hot dog vendor and said "Make me one with everything".

HA HA HA!

Pls fwd to all related frequency personnel and give feedback post lunch. Thanks.

warm regards,

Non-Sensei
So-and-so Dept.
So-and-so Company.

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!


If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!


How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I've read quite a few blogs which talk about their 'Google ranking/listing' and that they've moved up because of 'more hits'.

I really don't understand this. Is being listed a good thing? How do I know what my listing/ranking is? If I type 'Non-Sensei' in the Google search, the first two links are to this blog. Is that any good? Or is my search too specific?Damn, now I really want to know.

Who'da thunk it - WORK, of all things, was the cure!
Will wonders never cease...

All of a sudden, I'm very, very depressed...And there's not ONE thing I know of, or can think of, that might help me feel better...

Just Older

Hey, man, it's been a while
Do you remember me?
When I hit the streets I was 17
A little wild, a little green
I've been up and down and in between
After all these years
Can you believe I'm still chasing that dream
But I ain't looking over my shoulder

I like the bed I'm sleeping in
It's just like me, it's broken in
Tonight I'm... Just Older
Like a favorite pair of torn blue jeans
This skin I'm in is alright with me
It's not old -- Just Older

Well, I look in the mirror
I don't hate what I see
There's a few more lines staring back at me
The nights have grown a little colder

I like the bed I'm sleeping in
It's just like me, it's broken in
It's not old -- Just Older
Like a favorite pair of torn blue jeans
This skin I'm in it's alright with me
It' s not old -- Just Older

- Bon Jovi

That's me - just a little older today. I've gotten more calls than I ever have before, more expensive gifts than before, but it doesn't seem to matter. The more indifferent I become to other people, the more they seem to care about me. Funny thing, love - rarely there when you need it the most, found when you want/need/expect/appreciate it the least.
Maybe this is just residual depression from yesterday.

People are born, people die. Some middle eastern cultures and most tribal cultures don't weep for their dead - they celebrate their life. I will celebrate yours. You have left an unfillable void in many lives. Maybe, in some supernatural way, you saw yesterday how many people you touched. With your warm heart, with your genuineness, with your kindness and compassion...Amma, Ammumma and the others will miss you very much.

And then there were three...

I will miss you very, very much Unda Valliamma. Rest in peace.