Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Things are rushed. Will we ever have time?


What does this cockroach want? Money, fame?

Why is it so darn sly!


Kamahkya! Just for the music.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Why is it queer, when it is not even queer? 

Why, humans have this innate affinity for branding/compartmentalising. 

It's a daunting task to put down any movie that isn't good by whateverfuckingstandard.

It isn't all that fair, and I'm just too reel-struck!

Dream One (1984)

I got engrossed in this movie called 'Dream One' (1984) that was on UTV World Movies yesterday. It's one of those bloody surrealistic movies that work on the usual cliches associated with dreams. However, it seems to replenish each obvious moment with a simple exploration of society, genocide, politics, gender and identity, urbanisation... and the league. It's so subtle and hardly pretentious, that you can give them all a miss, and just be rapt in the film's close-to real pictorisation of the randomness of a dream.  

It works on a young boy's fantasy filled with essentially surreal, magnified and horribly ethereal plot(s) that serve a full course meal for all the Freudians out there. I shan't talk much of the story here, for it might be a sinful act considering it's a dream that involves pieces of Alice in Wonderland, Zorro and the Nautilus . The characters evolve, or should I say, let us discover more about them as the interlaced plots progress, making for this movie that tramps about.

Time, morality, ethics, even space, are given a pass throughout and it moves towards a moot of survival and selfishness against these.

I tried googling the movie to find out more about its circumstances and after a few good minutes only did I learn, it's better known as Nemo, and was the first movie of French Director Arnaud Sélignac. Riddance to my amazement that the Englishman could have actually written such a movie back then. As for the actors, only Dominique Pinon (the obsessive lover at the cafe in Amelie), dressed 'Monkey' in this film, seems familiar to me. Nevertheless, the cast and crew have staged quite a bold creation. The sets of the film prod on the faked Appolo mission, I guess. Background score is rightly supportive and non-intrusive. The dialogues,  especially of the magician, Mr. Rip, haggle over a lot of philosophical parodies, while the young Nemo's is so darn Brit with all the bland exclamations intact. 

It isn't disappointing to see a 4.8/10  for this classic movie, that deserves an 8, on IMDB -seemingly the only site that has substantial info on the film. < http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087784/ >  I might sound like a contradiction with all my sentimental echoes of the film here, but it certainly is different from all those kitschy movies on dream-ing/s/land. Being as banal and dumb as possible.

It just seems right now to remember it as a French more than an English movie. A delightful watch on a lazy late afternoon. Ahoy Nemo and the Nautilus!

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Connotations to objectivity

// It is good to lose one's study.

// One's study is lost.

// Study=! // Study=0

The simple and the humble

< http://www.orkut.co.in/Main#Album.aspx?uid=7738492768174715746&aid=1245150252 >

A Malabar monsoon,
for some cherai. 
Simply kidilan.

Lofty ideals
lost to the sun.
A heart of physics
and a language of yearning.
Where in the world
should metaphysics be running?

That which is enraptured
by sight and smell and sound
of character and appreciation,
that qualify for ethics,
made for some slush on me,
and reasoning.

And that is glee. That is wallowing in the mire.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Okay, so is homeomorphism something that can be used to understand the 'material?'
Hey there, hey you.

Considering your internal and external frames of reference, you are both homeomorphic and homomorphic.
 What is metaphysically known as the "essence of a person." Yes, that which defines a person, however much they may have seemed to have contorted/stuck to themselves.

Thus the conviction in structures, more than patterns, gets accentuated for me.

(And you is every one. )

Saturday, June 20, 2009

A post to be excused

`Runaway soul`_________<_________<__________^
|                                                                          \
The essence of my being lies within the soul,
|                                                                           /
and that is effectuated by this ________>_______

And in effect, I'm at sea, abjectly.

Do these things count for facts, or are they merely experiential?

For me, it still seems abstract. Further dismissing the unreal. Purely to put things in perspective than understand what exactly it is.


In those contradictions and gibberish does time exist for me now. I know not what is to be done. Ha, 'what can be done' is just a proposal; that again has layers and sub-layers.

Fuck this. I don't want to carry forth such mindless abstractions. I've learnt that meta talk needs to be avoided, you know.

Line break.

End of conversation.

< / Head  >

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

 Poetry <=> Prose
Self-indulgence. Gah.
But, I've always wanted to go on a North-East trip unlike many souls I know that seem to have taken a sudden fancy for it.

8th standard Geography, for specifics; when I did this project on the Himalayan belt and had to cut [ :-( ]  out breathtaking photographs  from a tourist guide book.

My almirah still holds two of those excess cutouts that could not be discarded.

Oh, and to lay out the defenses that may stem in the post. I'm thinking about people going, "Hey, even I liked the NE back in school. I've liked it all along, just that I wasn't vocal just like her, I've got XYZ for proof" and variations.

Homo sapiens-I don't want to do the judging. 'Tis tiresome.
It's official, I need more of Chennai life; home is always busy.
And the moment that became official, the reconsideration began.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Sometimes any reply to a rhetorical question as "Where will I get money to travel through the West Coast and the North East and buy myself an EOS 500d or a Nikon D5000 with an 18-105 mm," helps.

More like having statements with answers.
Exaggeration lies in this: Oh, my, god, I can't believe I actually have an appointment with a nutritionist.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Does everyone who write want (secretly, or otherwise) the reader to undergo, or 'feel' what they experience as they write? And most often than not, writing happens when they get overwhelmed by something/anything and so want people to hear it.

Strange enough that most forms hardly want to leave stuff for the reader; they have to compete against their imagination and spell out things. Then again, it doesn't matter if it's intentional or not, it doesn't get to be writing if it has failed with the reader, that's all.

On that note: The posts on writing (?!) need to be wrapped up. And so shall they. Soupy enough. :-|

Thursday, June 11, 2009

A Night

Thunder passed over, and lightening was seen through the gable of the pitched roof as I tried to compose this a while ago.

The city is drenched, the farm-house nearby has its insects in their nests, dad is downstairs sleepily watching the match, and I wonder, all crouched, if more details need to be spelt.

After some mind-meandering, I seem stoned enough, well, figuratively. Not forgetting that this preempts a routine night. God save.

Monday, June 8, 2009


I'm trying! In vain!
I'll try another writing that I'm more comfortable with.
In irreverence of days and night,
muses of the world
slipped into slumber-delight;
leaving their artists sore, and infertile.

Crushing metaphors they were statued for
by the snore.

And then we know,
the muse was just we;
perhaps just an I.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Vertical Farming beckons. Let's say the world takes to it over the next 50 years. We'll benefit, and well, have to buy it.


  • Capital investment is a huge issue even with UF with returns spread over a long period
  • Fossilisation, replenishment of water, soil (natural) preservation, oxygenating of agricultural lands may take a beating.
  • Cities may probably heat-up more, but the homes get to be cooler when you have mini-farms set-up. Apartment and kitchen farming isn't all that new, anyway.
  • Sustainability of a farm is a matter of dropping a bomb over it.
  • Actually, their geographical positioning isn't an issue, just that the local sufficiency of the urban becomes easier.
  • But ex-agro lands of the rural may spin off industrial spaces with all those implications
  • Green cover loss activists will be upto a lot of work, as well as the left/socialists
  • The logistics of traditional farming get centrifuged
  • Desert lands get revived?
  • Grocery prices get customised as much as the growing according to the Food Pyramid?
  • Hydroponics rocks.
  • The ecosystem gets effectively exploited without damage?
  • Infrastructural problems are bound to arise, unlike the traditional
  • Dickson Despommier
  • The farm flowchart is impressive
And, there lies my interest and call.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Fano Plane

How the fuck does one get rid of ones own metaphysical probings into every fucking thing?

Oh, yea, it's about getting proper. Using ones instead of I, your and such language.
The thing about writing about one's love for whatever or whichever is doggone papery. The grossness, and even the lameness is embossed all over.

-And gah, this was spun after reading things people wrote on that word.


Aside: I already get the feeling that the things I want to be on this blog embrace certainty of thought. Irksome.

Those things aren't getting here.