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watched the film last Friday - all I have to say about it is that issues in the film have been dealt with as much subtlety as Mallika Sherawat on the subject of sex.

Thanks to Jabberwock...

...took the test and now, here goes my Meg-Ryan-y self: :)


You're Calvin!

Which Calvin and Hobbes Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Heads - you win, Hearts - I lose…

…I say, in stark contradiction to the age-old adage ‘Follow your heart’ – for it seems that doing that can lead to one thing only – not meeting whatever it is that the proverbial battle between your head and heart was held for in the first place. Make no mistake – this is not a bitter, misery-laden rant – it is a clear as glass fact I state here. Cynics could say that this probably has more to do with the ‘what’ your heart was following in the first place or even how ‘trustworthy’ wrt intuitions your heart, as a general rule is. I say, that is sheer and utter bunkum. Given the best of ‘intuitivists’ and a cause-worthy object to follow – you will still fail. Heed this as a wise warning/plausible threat/random crap – try it and the result will be for all to see…and I promise I won’t do an ‘I-told-you-so’ when you return.

So what fails? Lets dissect the rationale behind the seemingly drastic statements here:

• Disclaimer: Your IQ either falls into the general average range …or is above that. This is to enable that your head is capable to wage the war to begin with.
• Given this factor, just the fact that this deemed capable head is engaging the services of the heart to resolve an issue immediately indicates a reluctance on the part of the head to accept the solution at hand – ie, there is an inherent unwillingness by the head to accept the actually-right-there-solution/path…and uses the heart as an excuse for this deliberate myopia/blindness.
• And then, despite the sub-conscious knowledge of this, the escapist rushes into what it believes is full scale battle…eventually leading to more and more and more muddlement.
• Ultimately, there is such a frenetic state of confusion, that the cause itself is lost.
• Hence, You lose. I lose. He loses. She loses. Everybody loses.

This is a sad story.

The writer of this theory does not warrant or assume any legal liability or responsibility for the accuracy, completeness, or usefulness of any information, apparatus, product, or process disclosed. Any resemblance to any person she may have encountered in her lifetime who could have led to her forming this theory is not intentional and purely coincidental.

Josh Ritter

A new kid on the block (just a criminally young 23!) who's my latest object of 'besott-ment'. Anyone who's remotely 'into' Dylan or Cohen should check this guy out. He writes his own music, but is very obviously influenced by these stalwarts. (Sample Kathleen to reminisce about BD and Chelsea Hotel # 2 is, of course, a cover of one of LC's most enduring songs). My personal favourites include: California, Kathleen, Wings, Snow is Gone...and more
About the lyrics: as simple as can be...and therein lies the impact. For a more professional opinion/review/synopsis about Josh Ritter, click here and type 'Josh Ritter' in the Search box.

Strunken where it hurts most!

Just read this article on a new computer virus. Sure to hurt s-messed souls who have unlearnt all the English they ever (if...) learnt and other such of their wretched ilk.

Point to ponder?

...read this quote recently:

"We adore chaos because we love to produce order."
-M(auritis) C(ornelius) Escher (1898-1972), Dutch artist, mathematician

seems to me that it is infinitely true, not only in our own closeted lives, but also in the electronically-blackboxed-technologically-advanced times we live in.

more on this later

Hopping Mad or Mad Hopping!

spent an en-tire working day moving from one meeting to another - what a COLLOSAL waste of energy, time and resources!

Friend-dom

The dictionary defines a friend as:

• one attached to another by affection or esteem
• one that is not hostile b : one that is of the same nation, party, or group
• one that favors or promotes something (as a charity)
• a favored companion
• a member of a Christian sect that stresses Inner Light, rejects sacraments and an ordained ministry, and opposes war -- called also Quaker

…even with all these definitions (yes, even the last one), I am still groping to find what it is that group of animate and inanimate objects I have chosen to call a ‘friend’. What is it that intangible quality that proverbially ‘clicks’ and therein, a ‘friendship’ starts? What are (if…) the parameters that define what phrases like ‘just-friends’ or ‘never-thought-of-you-as anything-but-a-friend’ mean? Why is it so easy to ‘go-back-to-being-friends’ when a romance doesn’t presumably ‘work out’? IS it easy to ‘go-back-to-being-friends’ at all? Does that mean everything but the physical intimacy that existed has a right to remain? And of course, does even THAT remain as is?

Questions. Questions. Questions. But without any…no, actually, with terribly gray answers. Why is gray terrible? Because it is neither black nor white! Because it is a shade that implies a concentration of either color with no apparent measure to determine why. What’s really sad is that gray was what I wanted and demanded every thing to be when I was younger – like a private ensconced comfort found only in the unknown…and converting even seemingly ‘accepted’ ‘knowns’ into the unknown. But now, it seems like a compulsion has taken over that forcibly makes me try to undo all the ‘grays’ I created and compartmentalize them into blacks and whites – like a reverse painting process. But I digress…back to ‘friend-dom’ for now.

From ever since I have had any conscious awareness of myself, this definitive (ironic?) group has occupied supreme importance, significance and priority in my life. All significant milestones and conversations – strife-y or happ-y – have one thing in common - the explicit use of this word ‘friend’ that I am so struggling to define. ‘Family’ a) always played second fiddle and b) was always this alien concept that I tried and still somewhat try to conform to. Anyway, I am not quite sure how to end this sudden, impulsive diatribe that has led to so many words already…even more not sure of whether it can really…

Saturday, March 11, 2028

You're all cordially invited to my funeral on the above-mentioned date...thats the day I shall (apparently be) kick(ing) the bucket so to speak. There's this site expressly dedicated to disseminate this incredibly cheery piece of information...down to the last second...so go check out when you join me in holy hell-i-mony...

ps: its a weekend, so NO excuses about not being able to make it et all...and do block your time in advance...

Linda Goodman's got competition

...in this site which tells you what zodiac sign you really ought to be (as opposed to the one you were presumably born with!) Here's what it tells me...


Discover your Zodiac Personality @ Quiz Me

What's in a name?

...everything it seems, given the umpteen number of times I have been asked about my 'unusual' id - and so, I present the story behind 'serendipits'...may I (finally!) rest in some peace...amen

‘serendiPITY’ was what I sought to be
‘serendiPITY’ – what I ought to be
but alas! Fate dealt a cruel hand
when a stranger from a foreign land
seized that, which was my strife
oh that scheming little lowlife
left me a fate no worse than a thousand zits
and so, ah well, I settled for ‘serendiPITS’

epilogue: ...and I got them damn zits too

Ramblings of a word lover

back after a bit of a hiatus...wedding in the family..and other maddening chaotic situations...but that prolly deserves a blog of its own (or should that be 'post'?) anyhow, the laziness just doesn't seem to end, and here's one of my favourite pieces...feel like it presents the permanent state of my head incredibly accurately...oh and happy new year to the ones who want it to be happy...

...
You can say anything you want, yessir, but it's the words that sing, they soar and descend...I love them, I cling to them, I run them down, I bite into them, I melt them down...I love words so much...the unexpected ones...the ones I wait for greedily or stalk until, suddenly they drop...vowels I love...they glitter like colored stones, they leap like silver fish, they are foam, thread, metal, dew...I run after certain words...they are so beautiful that I want to fit them all into my poem...I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture tome, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates,like olives...and then, I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them, I let them go...I leave them in my poem, like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, pickings from ashipwreck, gifts from the waves...Everything exists in the word...An idea goes through a complete change because one word shifted its place, or because another settled down like a spoiled little thing inside a phrasethat was not expecting her, but obeys her...They have shadow, transparence, weight, feathers, hair, and everything they gathered from so much rolling down the river, from so much wandering from country to country, from being roots so long...They are very ancient ...and very new...they live in the bier, hidden away, and in the budding flower...what a great language I have, it's a fine language we inherited from the fierce conquistadors...they strode over the giant cordilleras, over the rugged Americas, hunting for potatoes, sausages, beans, black tobacco, gold, corn, fried eggs, with avoracious appetite not found in the world since then...They swallowed up everything, religions, pyramids, tribes, idolatries, just like the ones they brought along in their huge sacks...wherever they went, they razed the land...but words fell like pebbles out of the boots of the barbarians, outof their beards, their helmets, their horse shoes, luminous words that were left glittering here...our language. We came up losers...we came up winners...they carried off the gold and left us the gold...they carried everything off and left us everything...they left us the words.
...
Pablo Neruda