1) Entropy: That ultimate reaper of randomness. That king of confusion. That reason for us never knowing the extent of our being or the extent of our existence. The universe is constantly expanding. Well, here's a thought - you know how people are always saying the only constant change in the universe is entropy? If the universe is "constantly" expanding, isn't the volume of the universe also defined by a constant change? Like entropy, the volume of the universe would be defined by a mathematical equation, wouldn't it? It would be a constantly expanding sphere, wouldn't it? What lies outside the sphere, we'll talk about some other time or we'll leave it open for discussion with Perfect Melange. Right now, I'm leading up to something else.
2) Choice: We all have a choice - so they say. In every situation, every instant, we make a choice. Do I press the question mark key now? Will you read the next sentence or skip it? Do you even want to read the rest of this post? All choices. Each step we take, each choice we make creates a totally new definition for our universe. Each step we take, each choice we make creates a totally new universe where we did the opposite - simply put, the blue pill or the red pill, Neo. It is from this simple concept, the theory of the multiverse arrives. If every choice we make, splits the timeline in two, then, from the beginning of time, from the very first choice made, there have been the creation of infinite universes - each exactly like its parent universe until the point of split - each differing from its nearest twin by the weight of a single choice. In all my years of life and in all of yours, just imagine how many new universes we have created. Even as I write this and later when you're reading this, we would've created an infinite number of new worlds. What a concept! Makes you feel all powerful, dunnit?
3) Defined Universe: So, each time you make a choice, each time you exercise your freewill, you create a new universe, right? Wrong. Deflate, little balloon. Deflate. It is all predestined. The universe is ordered. From the beginning of time, the beginning of the universe, from the big bang, there has always been some order. The Chaos Theory defines "Life" as being the "Order at the edge of chaos". The universe is defined. From the moment the first choice was made and the spool began to unravel, it has been defined, although within limits, within a range, within which we are allowed a certain amount of freewill. The universe, from the moment the first choice was made, ceased to be the universe. It had split. It was a biverse. And then tetraverse and in a matter of seconds, a multiverse. Which begs to ask, what if there was no choice? If freewill is a non-existent concept, there would have to be no life. So, before life began, it was still a universe. Elements can't make decisions. They are governed by rules so strict, they make a Jew-hating Nazi colonel from the Third Reich seem like Santa Claus. The life of a non-living thing is more or less like - "Hmm. Vacuum, let me just do nothing and float around", "Hmm, Still vacuous.", "Oh no! Temperature's up by 200 degrees, boil over, boil over!" - Life came and free will emerged, universes split, new worlds created. All within the framework created, defined and executed by whatever it is that controls the multiverse. You and me are just puppets. Why? Simply because, every decision we make today is governed by some occurrence in the past. Nothing we do or say is random. Nothing is done on impulse. Everything is in some teensy way, connected to something you or your subconscious experienced before. Every decision, every choice, is just a probability function with past influences o your life as variables. Each past influence in your life, in turn, is another probability function with its past as variables; and so on and so forth, until - the very first choice! So, sorry my friend. But everything you have done, are doing or will do, is known and can be calculated pretty accurately provided all previous choices and decisions defining your particular world is known and the first choice is known.
It doesn't matter what you choose, because elsewhere, you'd have done the opposite. I suppose, its only a matter of whether you want to live with this or that. If you want to exist with "this", then "you" in another world would have to live with "that". There again is the quandary. If you've made the decision, then don't "you" in the other world have a choice at all? Must "you" in the other world take the leftovers after you've decided here? Don't "you" have freewill?
See? the choices that you and "you" make are defined by choices or occurrences previously occurred. It is all governed and predictable. The only choice you have is who you want to be and what you choose to be. You will be it, while "you" won't.
December 19, 2011
August 19, 2011
Sadness and Hate
Sad night, the weeper of starwind sky,
Take me where the shimmering lights are fading out,
Through the shadows of hate and through the fires of grace,
I followed the voice in the night, beautiful as black sky,
but nothing I found.
My thoughts are captured by the magical chants,
Of the spirits, but I cannot see them with these dead eyes,
Lost I am in these dismal streams,
Lost I am forever in my life.
The snow is falling on the withering leaves, I am left in the cold,
The shadows are crying in the moonlight, is this night the last of my life?
Have we arrived from our journey, I must ask you now,
At last I can cry, 'cause these sad words are calling me tonight,
My eyes bleed for you, my star, my pride and the love of my heart,
But why did you have to fly so far, I raged and it tore me apart,
I promise to you with sadness and hate,
Wherever I might go, you will know.
I give my life to the withering leaves,
Oh, the bleeding moonlight,
To the crying shadows,
I give my life to you.
Take me where the shimmering lights are fading out,
Through the shadows of hate and through the fires of grace,
I followed the voice in the night, beautiful as black sky,
but nothing I found.
My thoughts are captured by the magical chants,
Of the spirits, but I cannot see them with these dead eyes,
Lost I am in these dismal streams,
Lost I am forever in my life.
The snow is falling on the withering leaves, I am left in the cold,
The shadows are crying in the moonlight, is this night the last of my life?
Have we arrived from our journey, I must ask you now,
At last I can cry, 'cause these sad words are calling me tonight,
My eyes bleed for you, my star, my pride and the love of my heart,
But why did you have to fly so far, I raged and it tore me apart,
I promise to you with sadness and hate,
Wherever I might go, you will know.
I give my life to the withering leaves,
Oh, the bleeding moonlight,
To the crying shadows,
I give my life to you.
--- Jari Maenpaa.
July 03, 2011
**/**/2027: A Day in the Life
7 A.M., the alarm began its shrill routine trying to jerk him to alertness. It had to be disappointed because he cut it's cacophony off before it could really get into its groove. He'd hardly slept through the night. It was the end of a chapter in his life. It was the end of the last chapter in another life and he knew it. He hadn't done anything about it because he couldn't and he really hadn't wanted to. There was no way he was going to let that biography end any other way.
The newspaper was there when he opened the front door waiting to be read. It was waiting to shock people awake with its headlines. It had to be disappointed as well because he already knew what it had to say. Sure enough, there it was at the bottom-left corner, below all those articles about politicians visiting places of worship in the hope that the almighty might favour them in the impending elections. As usual, he wasn't going to be bothered with it. Governments would come and go. Always promising and always corrupt. He skipped the dreary details of yet another footballer's affairs, wondering why they would even bother when their wives were so incredibly beautiful. Then he finally composed himself enough to focus his eyes on the unforgiving, glaring black print: "Indian Artist Lost at Sea".
The small article went on to describe the short and eventful life of the woman who'd been his friend for so many years. It gave a brief and totally untrue insight into her life and praised her for her daring but foolhardy ambition to sail alone to the Bahamas from India during the winter. The writer concluded by saying that the authorities were still searching for any signs of her little craft but that it was unlikely to be ever found in the light of the hurricane that hit the region that she was last heard to be making for.
He closed his eyes for a few moments and wondered if he'd be able to live with knowing that she'd managed to choose the time and place for her death. He wondered if it would eat into his conscience that he could've easily stopped her from making that fateful journey. All he'd have had to do was ruin their friendship and blow the whistle on her plans. He would've confined her to a mental institution, but she'd have been safe and alive then - and he'd have lost a friend forever.
It wasn't as if now, he still had her with him. She was well and truly gone. He admired her sense of direction at being able to find the Bermuda Triangle like she'd wanted to. Then, a small smile showed on his face, just at the corners of his mouth - he was betting everything he had that she had been drunk beyond words at the time. It was how she had always wanted it to end - the story of her life.
He opened his eyes. He'd done the right thing. He'd been the true friend he'd always aspired to be. She'd done and achieved everything she'd wanted to in her life - right from greeting every birthday in a shack by the seaside to having slept with the scion of a huge multi-national industry. She'd trusted him enough to tell him of her plans and he'd done everything possible to reason with her, though he knew it was pointless. Once he'd established the fact that it was what she wanted beyond everything else and that she'd do it anyway with or without his help, he'd helped her all he could. The purchase of a craft was easy enough considering the vast fortunes they'd amassed over the years. The publicity was unnecessary but unavoidable considering their fame. The curiosity of the general public was, frankly, quite irritating at times. The plan was so nearly ruined a countless number of times but they'd somehow pulled it off.
They'd researched and found some obscure sailing record that she would be attempting to beat; they'd held a press conference announcing it; they'd allowed the reporters to greedily lap up the fake story. They'd played their cards right. She's gone. Nobody could accuse him of abetting her. She was at peace; and now, so was he.
He'd go on living until he had done everything that needed doing. He'd promised her an art museum in her memory. He had to set up a trust fund to manage her estate and use the money to fund eco-friendly projects around the world. He also had just twenty more years before his appointment with Death. Not that he'd need anyone's help seeing as he already onwed a silver Harley-Davidson and knew how to get to the Amalfi Coast.
He got up and put the paper aside. He had a more pressing matter to attend to. He had to find that friend of her's - the one with all her writings in his safekeeping with instructions to open after her death. He had to find that friend and they'd have to start going through those sheets of paper he knew would be covered with doodles and designs like she kept doing all the time. He hoped there was a Spongebob Squarepants somewhere among those drawings because that would be so like her. He smiled as he walked to the bathroom for a shave. It was time for him and the other friend to meet and compile her biography - the real story of her life.
The newspaper was there when he opened the front door waiting to be read. It was waiting to shock people awake with its headlines. It had to be disappointed as well because he already knew what it had to say. Sure enough, there it was at the bottom-left corner, below all those articles about politicians visiting places of worship in the hope that the almighty might favour them in the impending elections. As usual, he wasn't going to be bothered with it. Governments would come and go. Always promising and always corrupt. He skipped the dreary details of yet another footballer's affairs, wondering why they would even bother when their wives were so incredibly beautiful. Then he finally composed himself enough to focus his eyes on the unforgiving, glaring black print: "Indian Artist Lost at Sea".
The small article went on to describe the short and eventful life of the woman who'd been his friend for so many years. It gave a brief and totally untrue insight into her life and praised her for her daring but foolhardy ambition to sail alone to the Bahamas from India during the winter. The writer concluded by saying that the authorities were still searching for any signs of her little craft but that it was unlikely to be ever found in the light of the hurricane that hit the region that she was last heard to be making for.
He closed his eyes for a few moments and wondered if he'd be able to live with knowing that she'd managed to choose the time and place for her death. He wondered if it would eat into his conscience that he could've easily stopped her from making that fateful journey. All he'd have had to do was ruin their friendship and blow the whistle on her plans. He would've confined her to a mental institution, but she'd have been safe and alive then - and he'd have lost a friend forever.
It wasn't as if now, he still had her with him. She was well and truly gone. He admired her sense of direction at being able to find the Bermuda Triangle like she'd wanted to. Then, a small smile showed on his face, just at the corners of his mouth - he was betting everything he had that she had been drunk beyond words at the time. It was how she had always wanted it to end - the story of her life.
He opened his eyes. He'd done the right thing. He'd been the true friend he'd always aspired to be. She'd done and achieved everything she'd wanted to in her life - right from greeting every birthday in a shack by the seaside to having slept with the scion of a huge multi-national industry. She'd trusted him enough to tell him of her plans and he'd done everything possible to reason with her, though he knew it was pointless. Once he'd established the fact that it was what she wanted beyond everything else and that she'd do it anyway with or without his help, he'd helped her all he could. The purchase of a craft was easy enough considering the vast fortunes they'd amassed over the years. The publicity was unnecessary but unavoidable considering their fame. The curiosity of the general public was, frankly, quite irritating at times. The plan was so nearly ruined a countless number of times but they'd somehow pulled it off.
They'd researched and found some obscure sailing record that she would be attempting to beat; they'd held a press conference announcing it; they'd allowed the reporters to greedily lap up the fake story. They'd played their cards right. She's gone. Nobody could accuse him of abetting her. She was at peace; and now, so was he.
He'd go on living until he had done everything that needed doing. He'd promised her an art museum in her memory. He had to set up a trust fund to manage her estate and use the money to fund eco-friendly projects around the world. He also had just twenty more years before his appointment with Death. Not that he'd need anyone's help seeing as he already onwed a silver Harley-Davidson and knew how to get to the Amalfi Coast.
He got up and put the paper aside. He had a more pressing matter to attend to. He had to find that friend of her's - the one with all her writings in his safekeeping with instructions to open after her death. He had to find that friend and they'd have to start going through those sheets of paper he knew would be covered with doodles and designs like she kept doing all the time. He hoped there was a Spongebob Squarepants somewhere among those drawings because that would be so like her. He smiled as he walked to the bathroom for a shave. It was time for him and the other friend to meet and compile her biography - the real story of her life.
May 07, 2011
Someone asked me
Am I happy? I guess, in a word, yes. I am happy. Because I've learnt my lessons and the past is, well, the past. I keep learning from everyday stuff. The best thing I learnt is to never ever have expectations in life, from life. That way, I'm never disappointed; whatever the outcome.
You just live. If you have dreams, try and work towards them. But don't expect them to become true just because you tried. If they do become true, good - now find another dream and work towards it. If they don't become true, hard luck - now find another dream and work towards it. I'm happy with my job - the pay could've been better though. I'm happy with the place I stay - my roommate could've been cleaner though. I'm happy with my social life - I wish I could meet a really wonderful girl though. I'm happy - but not contented though. Now there's the clincher. This happiness isn't permanent, is it? A truly happy me would've been contented.
I think it isn't the pursuit of happiness that we are on - its the search for contentment. I hope to be content before I die - that's my new dream. I'll never know if it'll ever come true - not until I'm dying. I'm probably making a rather flawed argument, but I don't care - I'm happy.
You just live. If you have dreams, try and work towards them. But don't expect them to become true just because you tried. If they do become true, good - now find another dream and work towards it. If they don't become true, hard luck - now find another dream and work towards it. I'm happy with my job - the pay could've been better though. I'm happy with the place I stay - my roommate could've been cleaner though. I'm happy with my social life - I wish I could meet a really wonderful girl though. I'm happy - but not contented though. Now there's the clincher. This happiness isn't permanent, is it? A truly happy me would've been contented.
I think it isn't the pursuit of happiness that we are on - its the search for contentment. I hope to be content before I die - that's my new dream. I'll never know if it'll ever come true - not until I'm dying. I'm probably making a rather flawed argument, but I don't care - I'm happy.
March 22, 2011
The Dark Follower
It was a dark and gloomy night. Not chilly. Nor stormy. That happens in fairy tales or in Snoopy's manuscripts. No. This was real. It happened to me. Now some might argue I'm not real because I'm too good to be true. Anyway, as I was saying, it was dark and gloomy. Not really late. Just after 9 maybe and on a weekday. But for some reason, the streets were deserted. I had had to work late and had missed the cab home from work. So, I had taken the rather tiresome bus ride back home. Now the nearest bus stop to where I live was about a kilometre from home. So I got off the bus and was walking the long walk home lost in my thoughts about what to cook for dinner when all of a sudden, I noticed how dark it was; and gloomy too, like I mentioned before.
Now, I've never really been comfortable in the dark - my eyesight being what it is - and so, I stopped and took a look around just to check if there were any muggers or the sort waiting in ambush. Truth be told, I'd had a rather rough week at work, working late almost every day and was spoiling for a fight. So, though I knew it was silly, I was hoping a tiny but ambitious sort of thug would cross my path and try something foolish like saying, "Gimme your money!".
While I was playing out a really awesome fight sequence in my head, I heard a weird chattering noise coming from a little distance behind me. Brows knitted, I snapped my head back to look at whatever caused the sound. I noticed a silhouette a few feet behind me. Hazy, it was. But it looked like a woman. Again I heard the chatter. I pinpointed the source as emanating from it. I had stood rooted to the spot where I'd turned when I first heard the noise until now. Then I realised how it would seem - me staring at a woman so late in the night. But my brain somehow couldn't get the message to my legs. The apparition drew closer, still chattering. Then it struck me, "She could just be a woman talking on a mobile phone on her way home!"
My analysis complete, I turned and quickened up my pace, not really waiting to see if I was right. Try as I might, the chattering drew closer. I could hear it quite clearly now. It was unlike any language I'd heard before and I could recognise most of the languages spoken in the South country where I've lived all my life. It unnerved me and I urged my feet to pump faster but of no avail. The mysterious figure drew ever closer until it was right behind me. I tried to casually turn around and look. Bad mistake. I've never looked upon a more hideous face. It was grotesque - that's the nicest word I could come up with to describe it. The features badly misshapen and in some cases, non-existent. Even with the streetlamp shining right into the face, I couldn't see the eyes. I could make out it was a "she"; well, "it" was wearing a woman's clothes - and she was chattering. As she drew level with me, I could clearly hear the sounds coming out of a thin scarred line where her mouth should have been.
I waited a couple of seconds to take a deep breath - I'd stopped breathing some minutes ago - and to let her go on ahead, as far away as possible. Then I recalled a detail that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up on its end - there was no mobile phone in her hand! Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I set off to catch up with her - I wanted to check if she had on a hands-free headset-with-microphone or that new-fangled Bluetooth thingy. In a surprisingly short space of time, I found myself again walking beside her. Her constant chattering was getting to me - I guess it rankled me that I couldn't identify the language - but more importantly, I saw that she didn't have either of those devices that let you talk on a mobile phone without actually holding one to your ear.
"That does it!", I said to myself. I gritted my teeth and fell behind, trying to let her get ahead. It continued that way for a few minutes. Then suddenly, I couldn't see anyone in front! I pricked my ears and there it was. The now familiar noise coming up from behind again. And sure enough, when I looked behind, there she was - just a few steps behind. I decided to put some distance between us and quickened my pace to a trot. After a few minutes of jogging, I turned, and puffing and panting, was glad to see just the empty street devoid of movement. A surge of hope in my heart, I began making my way home - I was halfway there already. A few seconds later however, even my brain screaming "NONONO!" couldn't cover up the sound of the distant chatter - ever drawing near. From the corner of my eye, I saw the strange shadow dogging my footsteps. Smoothly, I crossed the road and started walking on the other side of the street. "Ha! And that's that!", I thought triumphantly.
Just when I was mentally opening the celebratory bottle of Mumm's, I saw my shadow cast ahead by the streetlamp behind me; coming up fast to interlink with my shadow was another! The chattering noise grated my ears again. "Damn!", I thought and re-corking my mental bubbly, began walking faster again. Inexplicably, she managed to keep pace and again came up beside me. I sneaked a quick glance at the next lamppost to see if I only imagined the facial features, or the lack of it. The sight brought a rush of bile up my throat and nearly made me retch. The face was pockmarked and crisscrossed like it was heavily scarred - like stone that's seen too many years of wind and rain and sun-scorched summers. The nose seemed twisted and bent. The mouth was just a horizontal line with an invisible upper lip and a protruding lower one. But the eyes were just not there. All I could see were the recesses of the sockets where the eyes should have been, but no eyes.
Again I turned and crossed the road in a quick march that would've made any drill sergeant proud. Again she followed. This time, I gave up and let her. I decided to take whatever was going to befall me. Just when I was so close to the safety of my house and hearth. I faced her resignedly and waited for the devil to take my soul or whatever voodoo that she would do. I gritted my teeth and balled up my fists and waited. As she glided nearer, at some point, I blinked.
And that was that. She was past me and still chattering. Gone on ahead. No longer following me. I heaved a sigh of relief and took the bylane that would lead me to my house. Suddenly, the night didn't seem so dark or gloomy. After all, the moon was still almost full and only just waning. The stars were out and shining. The streetlamps were emitting a fierce, orange glow. The chattering was a distant echo, just a ringing in my ears.
Now, I've never really been comfortable in the dark - my eyesight being what it is - and so, I stopped and took a look around just to check if there were any muggers or the sort waiting in ambush. Truth be told, I'd had a rather rough week at work, working late almost every day and was spoiling for a fight. So, though I knew it was silly, I was hoping a tiny but ambitious sort of thug would cross my path and try something foolish like saying, "Gimme your money!".
While I was playing out a really awesome fight sequence in my head, I heard a weird chattering noise coming from a little distance behind me. Brows knitted, I snapped my head back to look at whatever caused the sound. I noticed a silhouette a few feet behind me. Hazy, it was. But it looked like a woman. Again I heard the chatter. I pinpointed the source as emanating from it. I had stood rooted to the spot where I'd turned when I first heard the noise until now. Then I realised how it would seem - me staring at a woman so late in the night. But my brain somehow couldn't get the message to my legs. The apparition drew closer, still chattering. Then it struck me, "She could just be a woman talking on a mobile phone on her way home!"
My analysis complete, I turned and quickened up my pace, not really waiting to see if I was right. Try as I might, the chattering drew closer. I could hear it quite clearly now. It was unlike any language I'd heard before and I could recognise most of the languages spoken in the South country where I've lived all my life. It unnerved me and I urged my feet to pump faster but of no avail. The mysterious figure drew ever closer until it was right behind me. I tried to casually turn around and look. Bad mistake. I've never looked upon a more hideous face. It was grotesque - that's the nicest word I could come up with to describe it. The features badly misshapen and in some cases, non-existent. Even with the streetlamp shining right into the face, I couldn't see the eyes. I could make out it was a "she"; well, "it" was wearing a woman's clothes - and she was chattering. As she drew level with me, I could clearly hear the sounds coming out of a thin scarred line where her mouth should have been.
I waited a couple of seconds to take a deep breath - I'd stopped breathing some minutes ago - and to let her go on ahead, as far away as possible. Then I recalled a detail that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up on its end - there was no mobile phone in her hand! Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I set off to catch up with her - I wanted to check if she had on a hands-free headset-with-microphone or that new-fangled Bluetooth thingy. In a surprisingly short space of time, I found myself again walking beside her. Her constant chattering was getting to me - I guess it rankled me that I couldn't identify the language - but more importantly, I saw that she didn't have either of those devices that let you talk on a mobile phone without actually holding one to your ear.
"That does it!", I said to myself. I gritted my teeth and fell behind, trying to let her get ahead. It continued that way for a few minutes. Then suddenly, I couldn't see anyone in front! I pricked my ears and there it was. The now familiar noise coming up from behind again. And sure enough, when I looked behind, there she was - just a few steps behind. I decided to put some distance between us and quickened my pace to a trot. After a few minutes of jogging, I turned, and puffing and panting, was glad to see just the empty street devoid of movement. A surge of hope in my heart, I began making my way home - I was halfway there already. A few seconds later however, even my brain screaming "NONONO!" couldn't cover up the sound of the distant chatter - ever drawing near. From the corner of my eye, I saw the strange shadow dogging my footsteps. Smoothly, I crossed the road and started walking on the other side of the street. "Ha! And that's that!", I thought triumphantly.
Just when I was mentally opening the celebratory bottle of Mumm's, I saw my shadow cast ahead by the streetlamp behind me; coming up fast to interlink with my shadow was another! The chattering noise grated my ears again. "Damn!", I thought and re-corking my mental bubbly, began walking faster again. Inexplicably, she managed to keep pace and again came up beside me. I sneaked a quick glance at the next lamppost to see if I only imagined the facial features, or the lack of it. The sight brought a rush of bile up my throat and nearly made me retch. The face was pockmarked and crisscrossed like it was heavily scarred - like stone that's seen too many years of wind and rain and sun-scorched summers. The nose seemed twisted and bent. The mouth was just a horizontal line with an invisible upper lip and a protruding lower one. But the eyes were just not there. All I could see were the recesses of the sockets where the eyes should have been, but no eyes.
Again I turned and crossed the road in a quick march that would've made any drill sergeant proud. Again she followed. This time, I gave up and let her. I decided to take whatever was going to befall me. Just when I was so close to the safety of my house and hearth. I faced her resignedly and waited for the devil to take my soul or whatever voodoo that she would do. I gritted my teeth and balled up my fists and waited. As she glided nearer, at some point, I blinked.
And that was that. She was past me and still chattering. Gone on ahead. No longer following me. I heaved a sigh of relief and took the bylane that would lead me to my house. Suddenly, the night didn't seem so dark or gloomy. After all, the moon was still almost full and only just waning. The stars were out and shining. The streetlamps were emitting a fierce, orange glow. The chattering was a distant echo, just a ringing in my ears.
March 20, 2011
Poor Readers with Nothing Better to do
Work. Work. Work. Work everyday. Work all day. Work from 9 in the morning. Work till 9 in the night. No pay for work over-time. Work. Did I already say "work"? Anyhoo - I like that word, its unconventional - no time for blogging. All you eager readers (numbering zero at the last count) will just have to get along without me to colour your drab, dull and boring lives. For the time being, at least. Work. Beh!
March 14, 2011
What We Need Is...
With most of the world gearing up for the lunar perigee and others still reeling from the "Wash - Rinse Cycle" Ma Nature put Japan in, miners all over the world digging their own graves (forgive my callousness. But if a toothless Charlie Sheen can bare his fangs and get away with it, so can a grin-toothed I) and a few kooks still following the Mayan calendar (those guys packed up and left without a forwarding address. Do I hear asides of "The aliens took them"?) - I think people might just be losing it. In times of trouble, Mother Mary may speak words of wisdom but what we actually need is good, solid commonsense. Here's what to do in case you find yourself being burdened by trouble and a whole lot of rubble:
http://www.fema.gov/hazard/earthquake/eq_during.shtm
http://www.fema.gov/hazard/earthquake/eq_during.shtm
February 27, 2011
Same Old Lang Syne
Met my old lover in the grocery store
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stole behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve
She didn't recognize the face at first
But then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried.
We took her groceries to the checkout stand
The food was totalled up and bagged
We stood there lost in our embarrassment
As the conversation dragged.
We went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store
And we drank it in her car.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how.
She said she'd married her an architect
Who kept her warm and safe and dry
She would have liked to say she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie.
I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw
Doubt or gratitude.
She said she saw me in the record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly
But the traveling was hell.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Reliving in our eloquence
Another 'auld lang syne'...
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired
And running out of things to say
She gave a kiss to me as I got out
And I watched her drive away.
Just for a moment I was back at school
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow turned into rain.
The snow was falling Christmas Eve
I stole behind her in the frozen foods
And I touched her on the sleeve
She didn't recognize the face at first
But then her eyes flew open wide
She went to hug me and she spilled her purse
And we laughed until we cried.
We took her groceries to the checkout stand
The food was totalled up and bagged
We stood there lost in our embarrassment
As the conversation dragged.
We went to have ourselves a drink or two
But couldn't find an open bar
We bought a six-pack at the liquor store
And we drank it in her car.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how.
She said she'd married her an architect
Who kept her warm and safe and dry
She would have liked to say she loved the man
But she didn't like to lie.
I said the years had been a friend to her
And that her eyes were still as blue
But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw
Doubt or gratitude.
She said she saw me in the record stores
And that I must be doing well
I said the audience was heavenly
But the traveling was hell.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how.
We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to time
Reliving in our eloquence
Another 'auld lang syne'...
The beer was empty and our tongues were tired
And running out of things to say
She gave a kiss to me as I got out
And I watched her drive away.
Just for a moment I was back at school
And felt that old familiar pain
And as I turned to make my way back home
The snow turned into rain.
--- Dan Fogelberg
January 28, 2011
Headlines - 2021
Everybody's talking about the Horoscope this New Year. Everyone's making predictions to whoever will listen. I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon too. Here's my list of predictions to news that'll greet us in the next decade:
1. America announces Evacuation of Armed Forces from Iraq
2. CM: B’lore Metro will be Ready Soon
3. Brangelina Adopts Baby No. 9!
4. Sachin to Play in the Next World Cup
5. Salman calls Hrithik “Bachcha” Again
6. Shane Warne Cheats on Liz Hurley again; Insists Text Message was by Mistake
7. Golmaal – 7 Slated for April Release
8. India Condemns Capture of Srinagar by Pak Soldiers; Insists War is Not the Answer
9. George Clooney Tops List of Most Eligible Bachelors
10. Tiger Woods Overtakes Berlo Again: Another Stripper Alleges Affair
1. America announces Evacuation of Armed Forces from Iraq
2. CM: B’lore Metro will be Ready Soon
3. Brangelina Adopts Baby No. 9!
4. Sachin to Play in the Next World Cup
5. Salman calls Hrithik “Bachcha” Again
6. Shane Warne Cheats on Liz Hurley again; Insists Text Message was by Mistake
7. Golmaal – 7 Slated for April Release
8. India Condemns Capture of Srinagar by Pak Soldiers; Insists War is Not the Answer
9. George Clooney Tops List of Most Eligible Bachelors
10. Tiger Woods Overtakes Berlo Again: Another Stripper Alleges Affair
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