Saturday, May 31, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
marx forever!
around the turn of the previous century, two gentlemen noted with increasing concern the effects of a new world order.
one was the brain and the other was all soul. friedrich engels and karl marx went on to achieve what snotty mortals like us can only laugh at cynically- they changed the world.
their works have been misconstrued, leading to the rise and fall of the socialist experiment. in fact, the seeds of error lay in their very analytical technique of dialectical materialism, their lack of precision in definition and their unsound prediction of the fall of capitalism but that's not why they are highly regarded by the academia even today. where they lacked for in technique, they made up in passion.
their love of humanity can reduce even the most stoic capitalist to think for a moment about the fallacies in the system in which he lives, breathes, sleeps and fucks. reading marx is as reassuring an evidence of life as listening to the beating heart of a loved one. in a world where god has been declared dead by nietzsche and the writer's obituary written by foucault, they are the proof that armageddon hasn't come knocking yet.
it's no surprise, then, that even today, in the state of globalisation which they had failed to predict, they have taught yet another generation to yearn for a humane race, if not at the very least, pause to ask...
what's going on?
one was the brain and the other was all soul. friedrich engels and karl marx went on to achieve what snotty mortals like us can only laugh at cynically- they changed the world.
their works have been misconstrued, leading to the rise and fall of the socialist experiment. in fact, the seeds of error lay in their very analytical technique of dialectical materialism, their lack of precision in definition and their unsound prediction of the fall of capitalism but that's not why they are highly regarded by the academia even today. where they lacked for in technique, they made up in passion.
their love of humanity can reduce even the most stoic capitalist to think for a moment about the fallacies in the system in which he lives, breathes, sleeps and fucks. reading marx is as reassuring an evidence of life as listening to the beating heart of a loved one. in a world where god has been declared dead by nietzsche and the writer's obituary written by foucault, they are the proof that armageddon hasn't come knocking yet.
it's no surprise, then, that even today, in the state of globalisation which they had failed to predict, they have taught yet another generation to yearn for a humane race, if not at the very least, pause to ask...
what's going on?
heat street
inertia blooms, thoughts lay rancid under the tropical sun.
somewhere at the back of my head is a haunting reminder that the heat saps away all willingness to make an effort at a halfway to decent existence or for that matter, any desire to live.
it's no longer those romantic summers of yore filled with white-washed haciendas, enchanting cooling breezes to play among its pillars.
it's fearing and loathing, disgust and hate, sweat mingling with tears and the feeling that this city is eating you alive.
but i stay. and i wait. until the acid rain flows down heat street and life smiles once again.
somewhere at the back of my head is a haunting reminder that the heat saps away all willingness to make an effort at a halfway to decent existence or for that matter, any desire to live.
it's no longer those romantic summers of yore filled with white-washed haciendas, enchanting cooling breezes to play among its pillars.
it's fearing and loathing, disgust and hate, sweat mingling with tears and the feeling that this city is eating you alive.
but i stay. and i wait. until the acid rain flows down heat street and life smiles once again.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
eat this, us of fucking a.
america has accused india and china of eating away its food resources.
personally, i'd like to think that bush is planning to leave with a final flourish of stupidity. and this time, he's taking condi rice down with him.
this irrationality makes me terribly angry but at the same time, i can't help but smile when i read what kurt vonnegut jr. had to say in "breakfast of champions"...
"it [america] had most of the food and minerals and machinery, and it disciplined other countries by threatening to shoot big rockets at them or drop things down on them from airplanes."
also, did i hear something about increased ethanol production? if i did hear that right, then, dear, sweet america, that's where your fucking food went.
personally, i'd like to think that bush is planning to leave with a final flourish of stupidity. and this time, he's taking condi rice down with him.
this irrationality makes me terribly angry but at the same time, i can't help but smile when i read what kurt vonnegut jr. had to say in "breakfast of champions"...
"it [america] had most of the food and minerals and machinery, and it disciplined other countries by threatening to shoot big rockets at them or drop things down on them from airplanes."
also, did i hear something about increased ethanol production? if i did hear that right, then, dear, sweet america, that's where your fucking food went.
Friday, February 22, 2008
coming up for air...
i think if i quit social science research, stock up on some contraband and have nothing but my laptop (minus movies and graphic novels for company), i might just be one of them *prolific writers*.
i'd write lengthy academic articles, document conversations with fuzzy creatures in my head and write obituaries for my lovers while basking in the flush of coital bliss.
here's a prototype for the sort of stuff i'd write. thanks, so much toxic teddy. much love for my canadian bear...
yours truly: i think i'm downloading a german movie without any subtitles giggly teddy: loll
yt: it disappeared 22 years ago and i think it has been kidnapped and raped.
gt: over and over again?
yt: oh, yes
---------
i'd write lengthy academic articles, document conversations with fuzzy creatures in my head and write obituaries for my lovers while basking in the flush of coital bliss.
here's a prototype for the sort of stuff i'd write. thanks, so much toxic teddy. much love for my canadian bear...
yours truly: i think i'm downloading a german movie without any subtitles
i am slightly worried for my sanity.
and left for dead in winnipeg in a sanctuary for blood-thirsty bears
---------
Friday, September 28, 2007
the rape of stromsund
"welcome to armageddon", read the recorded message
and three trench coated figures
with wide brimmed hats
stepped off the doomsday capsule
to survey the acid laced remains
of what had once been
their world.
they had returned from an interplanetary orgy
a congregation of spacebeests
handpicked to represent their planets in a contest of virility
the earth was represented by two human males, a woman and
an androgynous praying mantis
who died after screwing a wingding from andromeda
for twenty three straight hours.
as the three humans gazed in awe,
cockroaches approached them
and spoke in high pitched voices
of how this wasteland came to be
it seems that a para nuclear machine was triggered off
while two scientists tried making babies
in a barrel of plutonium 253.
and so it seems that the only survivors
of earth's last fuck
were cockroaches and cher and a town named stromsund,
population 5000, north sweden
a fields prize regular cockroach hypothesised
that stromsund had survived in accordance with
what had once been a far fetched theory of probability.
they say that death brings the need to procreate
this has been supported by a british study where
psychologists been proved conclusively that
people indulge in sex after attending funerals
and so, our heroes felt this very human need
more so, in the face of being the
universe's champion fuckers.
being desperate as they were, our human heroes three
realised that fucking cockroaches or cher
would not alleviate their misery
they needed to share their grief with like bodies
and asked, therefore, for directions
to that improbable town in north sweden
population 5000, the one that was called stromsund.
how they made it there was anybody's guess
but then again, reason had taken a beating
when the town itself survived
and as if probability wanted to wipe its penis on the fabric of time
after fucking with every humanly acceptable concept
it turned out that stromsund was not abound with viking descendants
but was a peaceful, sexless amish settlement.
they knew there was just one way to go
and that there was no choice
for cher and cockroaches and nuclear waste were out of the question
they rushed into the town like cash's whirlwind in the thorn trees
roller skates, cookies and white bonnets askew
all it took was seconds
for stromsund to come undone.
the cockroaches watched in horror
and cher was unavailable for comment
the post-nuclear destruction continued as every man, woman and child had every orifice in their bodies violated
the biological sex machines didn't even stop for a cigarette
until they came to terms with their pain
and even they degenerated as nature wept nuclear tears, a final shower of potent acid rain.
and three trench coated figures
with wide brimmed hats
stepped off the doomsday capsule
to survey the acid laced remains
of what had once been
their world.
they had returned from an interplanetary orgy
a congregation of spacebeests
handpicked to represent their planets in a contest of virility
the earth was represented by two human males, a woman and
an androgynous praying mantis
who died after screwing a wingding from andromeda
for twenty three straight hours.
as the three humans gazed in awe,
cockroaches approached them
and spoke in high pitched voices
of how this wasteland came to be
it seems that a para nuclear machine was triggered off
while two scientists tried making babies
in a barrel of plutonium 253.
and so it seems that the only survivors
of earth's last fuck
were cockroaches and cher and a town named stromsund,
population 5000, north sweden
a fields prize regular cockroach hypothesised
that stromsund had survived in accordance with
what had once been a far fetched theory of probability.
they say that death brings the need to procreate
this has been supported by a british study where
psychologists been proved conclusively that
people indulge in sex after attending funerals
and so, our heroes felt this very human need
more so, in the face of being the
universe's champion fuckers.
being desperate as they were, our human heroes three
realised that fucking cockroaches or cher
would not alleviate their misery
they needed to share their grief with like bodies
and asked, therefore, for directions
to that improbable town in north sweden
population 5000, the one that was called stromsund.
how they made it there was anybody's guess
but then again, reason had taken a beating
when the town itself survived
and as if probability wanted to wipe its penis on the fabric of time
after fucking with every humanly acceptable concept
it turned out that stromsund was not abound with viking descendants
but was a peaceful, sexless amish settlement.
they knew there was just one way to go
and that there was no choice
for cher and cockroaches and nuclear waste were out of the question
they rushed into the town like cash's whirlwind in the thorn trees
roller skates, cookies and white bonnets askew
all it took was seconds
for stromsund to come undone.
the cockroaches watched in horror
and cher was unavailable for comment
the post-nuclear destruction continued as every man, woman and child had every orifice in their bodies violated
the biological sex machines didn't even stop for a cigarette
until they came to terms with their pain
and even they degenerated as nature wept nuclear tears, a final shower of potent acid rain.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
the golden age of the fatherland.
now playing: kissing the lipless, the shins.
just returned from chennai today. maybe staying in mumbai too long has made my immunity to the charms of various places a tad weak. or maybe with time, space, effort and change, i've learnt to disassociate myself from the horridness of chennai. perhaps, it has really come a long way. whatever it is, chennai 2007 will be the golden age of all my visits to the fatherland.
the purpose of this visit was to attend a wedding of a cousin (not blood ties, rather, a legacy of friendship that my grandfather continues to nurture). it was in equal parts beautiful+emotional and ostentatious+disturbing. nonetheless, it happened and this paved the way for a long, deep introspection session which will eventually be shelved for want of a feasible solution until i'm forced to think again. actually, the various aspects of the chennai trip tied in to create a reasonably unwanted introspection session when i'm already in the throes of turmoil. i don't want to tap the turmoil potential now, though. it's something i'd rather leave buried in the yard.
i never imagined myself growing so fond of a city which i disntinctly loathed the first time i set eyes on it. there were certain moments, though, which i relished even back in the dark ages especially the mandatory visit to nalli (mumbai nalli cannot top it or even come close to it by a mile). though it's expanded to almost unimaginable proportions, that heady smell of mallee (flower like jasmine) in the air conditioning still greets you through open doors of the whitewashed institution as you walk in from the hot, sultry streets of panagal park. small time shopkeepers selling everything from flowers to bangles and bindis to amla, ginger and green pepper and fruit by the plate stand discreetly near the entrance enticing you with the sheer riot of colour. nouveau riche joints like saravana stores, rmkv and the like really draw the junta but they possess none of the charm, tradition and classiness that nalli does.
let's be fair here, though. it isn't as if nalli is the ultimate place to shop but certainly is a good place to start. there are reasonably established places like rangachari and radha silks (rasi) as well as tiny boutiques that pepper the chennai clothes-shopping landscape. personally, i have a fondness for shopping in exclusive nooks with a relaxed, cozy atmosphere. these blink and you miss places were a huge factor that caused chennai's ratings soar in my books.
another important factor in any place is the food. it can really make or break not just a city but an entire region, especially in a country like india. sadly, though, the food in chennai isn't nearly as good as some of the other places. in this respect, bangalore and ahmedabad are far more passionate about food and you'd have a handful of well priced places that can surprise you with sheer innovativeness at best and run of the mill but mouth watering fare at the least. even the coffee wasn't as orgasmic as i'd like it to be- this was a massive sore point.
rediscovered the hindu, chennai edition. in a day and age when you have the internet and 24 hour news channels for the daily dose of happenings in the world, you really don't need newspapers. there are very few publications that can actually make print journalism seem worthwhile despite newer media springing up with an almost alarming regularity and the hindu, chennai is one of them. it really doesn't get better than this- the brilliant and consisitent quality of writing, the complete grasp of information that the hindu journos possess over the subject and the razor sharp editing and proofing are the reasons that the hindu doesn't have to shout out its presence unlike its counterparts like mumbai. good journalism doesn't require guerilla marketing, twisting figures of abc/ readership surveys or witty taglines on hoardings. it just requires a tubelight hoarding with nothing but a masthead that lingers permanently like a polite sigh over this southern metropolis' changing landscape.
there are things that i long to talk about but can't for lack of ability to pin down my expressions and arrive at why they affected me the way they did- little signs, small places that would seem insignificant at first but which would, in retrospection hold the key to where chennai is going to be. there are places, too, that i couldn't see which i wish i can in the near future. nonetheless, as change blossoms, in erstwhile madars, one can only hope that it escapes the rut that the other megapolis have fallen into and retain its individuality or if nothing, let stand the whitewashed facade and mallee atmosphere of nalli, panagal park.
just returned from chennai today. maybe staying in mumbai too long has made my immunity to the charms of various places a tad weak. or maybe with time, space, effort and change, i've learnt to disassociate myself from the horridness of chennai. perhaps, it has really come a long way. whatever it is, chennai 2007 will be the golden age of all my visits to the fatherland.
the purpose of this visit was to attend a wedding of a cousin (not blood ties, rather, a legacy of friendship that my grandfather continues to nurture). it was in equal parts beautiful+emotional and ostentatious+disturbing. nonetheless, it happened and this paved the way for a long, deep introspection session which will eventually be shelved for want of a feasible solution until i'm forced to think again. actually, the various aspects of the chennai trip tied in to create a reasonably unwanted introspection session when i'm already in the throes of turmoil. i don't want to tap the turmoil potential now, though. it's something i'd rather leave buried in the yard.
i never imagined myself growing so fond of a city which i disntinctly loathed the first time i set eyes on it. there were certain moments, though, which i relished even back in the dark ages especially the mandatory visit to nalli (mumbai nalli cannot top it or even come close to it by a mile). though it's expanded to almost unimaginable proportions, that heady smell of mallee (flower like jasmine) in the air conditioning still greets you through open doors of the whitewashed institution as you walk in from the hot, sultry streets of panagal park. small time shopkeepers selling everything from flowers to bangles and bindis to amla, ginger and green pepper and fruit by the plate stand discreetly near the entrance enticing you with the sheer riot of colour. nouveau riche joints like saravana stores, rmkv and the like really draw the junta but they possess none of the charm, tradition and classiness that nalli does.
let's be fair here, though. it isn't as if nalli is the ultimate place to shop but certainly is a good place to start. there are reasonably established places like rangachari and radha silks (rasi) as well as tiny boutiques that pepper the chennai clothes-shopping landscape. personally, i have a fondness for shopping in exclusive nooks with a relaxed, cozy atmosphere. these blink and you miss places were a huge factor that caused chennai's ratings soar in my books.
another important factor in any place is the food. it can really make or break not just a city but an entire region, especially in a country like india. sadly, though, the food in chennai isn't nearly as good as some of the other places. in this respect, bangalore and ahmedabad are far more passionate about food and you'd have a handful of well priced places that can surprise you with sheer innovativeness at best and run of the mill but mouth watering fare at the least. even the coffee wasn't as orgasmic as i'd like it to be- this was a massive sore point.
rediscovered the hindu, chennai edition. in a day and age when you have the internet and 24 hour news channels for the daily dose of happenings in the world, you really don't need newspapers. there are very few publications that can actually make print journalism seem worthwhile despite newer media springing up with an almost alarming regularity and the hindu, chennai is one of them. it really doesn't get better than this- the brilliant and consisitent quality of writing, the complete grasp of information that the hindu journos possess over the subject and the razor sharp editing and proofing are the reasons that the hindu doesn't have to shout out its presence unlike its counterparts like mumbai. good journalism doesn't require guerilla marketing, twisting figures of abc/ readership surveys or witty taglines on hoardings. it just requires a tubelight hoarding with nothing but a masthead that lingers permanently like a polite sigh over this southern metropolis' changing landscape.
there are things that i long to talk about but can't for lack of ability to pin down my expressions and arrive at why they affected me the way they did- little signs, small places that would seem insignificant at first but which would, in retrospection hold the key to where chennai is going to be. there are places, too, that i couldn't see which i wish i can in the near future. nonetheless, as change blossoms, in erstwhile madars, one can only hope that it escapes the rut that the other megapolis have fallen into and retain its individuality or if nothing, let stand the whitewashed facade and mallee atmosphere of nalli, panagal park.
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