Back(B)log

February 26, 2009

Rumble, ramble, mumble, fumble & bungle

Every artist needs an inspiration. Something that will send a surge of adrenalin surging through his veins. Something that will rouse him to scale greater heights. In search of the secret. The secret that binds the Universe together. That thirst. To find something new in everything. To hear the roar of the ocean in a conch held to the ear. To see tiny, vibrant rainbows in every drop of the April shower. To smell the wet earth beneath foot just after the cold November downpour. To feel the bracing sea breeze blowing over a sand dune. To taste the sweetness of a fresh mountain spring. That thirst which leads us to find something new. Hitherto, unknown. Inside ourselves. We are all artists. All the time. I am an artist. And the world is my showcase (Some dead English guy is turning in his grave). The world around us. Surrounding us. Encompassing us. Is our repertoire. What's that you say? The doggie poo outside my garden fence isn't art? Maybe it isn't (It could be a fart). Maybe it is. After all, art, like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. Definitely. The doggie poo has to be a liar in order to convince the beholder that it is a thing of beauty! Everything we do. Including our daily chores. Is a form of art. Some artists develop mundane tasks such as hanging out wet clothes for drying into an art form. Each and every arm movement - right from picking up a wet pair of trousers from the bucket to squeezing it of excess water to flicking it to remove the folds to tossing it onto the clothesline to pegging it down with clips before the breeze picks it up and twirls it aside - is a carefully choreographed effort. Each, a testimonial to the skill and experience of the performer. Heck, if P.T. Barnum had read this, the Ringling Bros. Circus would have had a troupe of washerwomen enthralling the audience instead of those tightrope walkers or the lion tamer. "Waitaminute! What's the point of this post?", you may ask. Well, truth be told, I have nothing in particular to say. Its just that rumbling tummy, rambling brain, mumbling mouth, fumbling fingers and bungling idiot don't go well together. Alas! What an artist perishes in me!

February 20, 2009

Of Pink Bunnies and Associated Bits of Fluff

This is just a random post about whatever is running in my head. I thought it'd be fun. I type down everything that I think of. A thousand images, a few million words, a couple of phrases. Whatever comes in. My train of thoughts. I'll try to faithfully write down everything I think of for the next so many minutes. Here goes (nothing): .................................................................................................... Damn! Just like my mind to shut down when I really need it to work. Work! Stupid Mind!! One more try: Sheep. Fence. Foil. Epee. Fencing. Star Wars. May the Force be with you! Jedi. Yoda. Japanese. HOD. French Beard. Eiffel. Tower. Tunnel. Channel. Coco. Chocolate. Milk. Varsha! Eunice. Piggy. Hog. Warts. Corn. Foot. Foot in mouth. Food in mouth. Better. Butter. Betty. Archie! Veronica. Jughead. KTR. Simulation. Stimulation. Kantha. Puppy. Pekru. Fleas. Crowshit. Paddu! Good Day. Shop. Anand. MPH. Mess. Food! Kissy Boy. Flyte. Stand. Sit. Rise. Risen. Raisen! Black Currant. Ice Cream. Kulfi. Bowring. Hospital. Mu. Movies. DC Rocks! 3rd floor. 5th floor. 7th floor. La. Anne. Paddu. Pri. Figure! Rush! Hug! Hug! (Ok. Next thought...) One more hug! Grin. Mari. Run. Born to run. Born to be Wild. Steppenwolf. American Band. Nirvana. Buddha. Tree. Katte. Coffee. 5 rupees. 10 ChlorMints. Breath freshner. Room freshner. Smell. Smell of burnt rubber. Bikes! Tykes. Tykes on bikes. Illegal. Lawyer. Legal Eagle. Deagle. Max Payne. Double Eagle. Gold. Oro. Oreo! Biscuit. Seabiscuit. Horse. Toby Maguire. Spiderman. Avengers. Captain America. Uncle Sam. Sam I am! Roald Dahl. Willy Wonka. Wee Willy Winky. Pinky. Jinky. Jinke! Mari na. Marina. Beach. Goa. Mangalore. Home. Mum. Dad. Sis. Miss. Teacher. Do not miss. Mistake. Take. Takeout. Take Away. Mc Donald's. Joker. Batman. Tanananana Batman! Robin. Bobbin. Dobbin. Lobbin. Baseball. Joe DiMaggio. Mrs. Robinson. Simon & Garfunkel. Sound of Silence. Pin drop. Pin prick. Comfortably Numb. Pink Floyd. Fink Ployd. Fink. The King is a Fink. The Wizard of Id. The Wizard of Oz. The Ozzman Cometh. Black Sabbath. Sunday. Sunday, Bloody Sunday. U2. Bono. Bone. Bone for contention. Detention. Dentation. Teething. Reeking. Seeking. Searching. Places to go. Trek. Shrek! Donkey. Eddie Murphy. Murphy's Law. Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way. Way. Away. This Way. Usher. Hip Hop. Hopscotch. Butterscotch. Whiskey. Liquor. Licquer. High. High in the sky. Whew! That's about 20 minutes of assorted thoughts.

February 13, 2009

Gin-soaked Boy

I'm the darkness in the light, I'm the leftness in the right; I'm the rightness in the wrong, I'm the shortness in the long; I'm the goodness in the bad, I'm the saneness in the mad; I'm the sadness in the joy, I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy. I'm the ghost in the machine, I'm the genius in the gene; I'm the beauty in the beast, I'm the sunset in the east; I'm the ruby in the dust, I'm the trust in the mistrust; I'm the Trojan Horse in Troy, I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy. I'm the tiger's empty cage, I'm the mystery's final page; I'm the stranger's lonely glance, I'm the hero's only chance; I'm the undiscovered land, I'm the single grain of sand; I'm the christmas morning toy, I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy. I'm the world you'll never see, I'm the slave you'll never free; I'm the truth you'll never know, I'm the place you'll never go; I'm the song you'll never hear, I'm the course you'll never steer; I'm the will you'll not destroy, I'm the gin in the gin-soaked boy. I'm the half-truth in the lie, I'm the why not in the why; I'm the last roll in the die, I'm the old school in the tie; I'm the spirit in the sky, I'm the catcher in the rye; I'm the twinkle in her eye, I'm Jeff Goldblum in the fly. Well, who am I?
---The Divine Comedy

February 11, 2009

Animal Instincts

Humans are animals. End of story. Actually, this is where it begins too. A cycle. The circle of life. Having the fairer sex around just makes it more vicious. We may be sentient. But we are still animals. I have always held the view that women rule the world. 'Tis true as Perfect Melange says. Women are experts at what I call "Head Games", while we men are more attuned with Animal Instincts. We men are secretly glad that very few women have actually realised the fact that they have us wrapped around their little fingers. The Bee Gees once asked, "What makes the world go 'round?". The answer, Maurice, is "women"! Humans, like a lot of social animals, live in a matriarchal society. Humans are social animals. Another example is the fact that humans, like herbivore animals in the wild, exhibit herding behaviour. Ruminants and bovines in the wild often stay together in large groups. Grazing together. This form of groupism is extremely effective as protection against predators that are at the most a pack of maybe, ten animals. Imagine 7 or 8 hyenas against a circle of 20 thick-skulled, sharp horned African buffalo. Not a great chance. This sort of system allows the herd to feed in peace while one or two members keep watch. Humans too exhibit this system of grouping. My friends and me, for example, meet up at the Splot everytime we have a break between classes. We form a little herd there between all the vehicles feeling secure and all that. Most come there to exchange news and hugs (a lot of the latter). Puppy & me though, usually go there to sniff out the girls' lunchboxes (Up with us grazers!). A lot of herbivores show communal behaviour at all times. Whether eating, sleeping, mating, dying or even relieving themselves. Communal toiletry. Believe it or not, humans exhibit communal toiletry! Take for example my friends again. Sparks & Hippo always go to the loo together. Always. Often, Dog-killer joins them too. I can't imagine what they do in there. They go in there ever so often. Puppy estimates they'll have spent half their lives in there by the time they finish their degree course. I can come up with loads of other parallels but I think I should draw the line here. I've more than proved my point. Darwin was right. We do have monkeys in the higher branches of our family trees.

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BOB'S BACK!!!!!!