Stranger than Fiction

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick. 

Its a beautiful beautiful movie and one that I don't mind watching over and over again. 

Sentimentality and a book

The block which I was referring to is a very real thing and I find myself with a head full of swirling ideas and random sentences but when it comes to actually putting something down, its blank canvas time. Its damned hard, this writing business, even when you are doing it just for yourself, really.

It sort of begins with a book. Now normally, and most people who know me will attest to this, I am an enthusiastic reader. Give me a book and I am happy. Don't need anything else. So its quite rare that I fail to finish a book I have started reading. There were a few that I couldn't because I was visiting and the book stayed put and once when I started Pride and Prejudice only to fall asleep every few pages. The book I am talking about is Shantaram, which happened to fall into my hands a long time ago. Its been a long time since May 2006 but I have only gone so far as 44 pages.

There is not one single reason I can pinpoint and I certainly can't say that it is sleep inducing in the Jane Austen way. It happens so many times when you are studying - when two hours pass by and you realize that you are 'reading' the same page while spaced out among distracting thoughts. Something along those lines, but not quite the same. Whenever I have picked up the book, I just end up lost on my own journey of memory interspersed with episodes of imagination.

Sentiment - how much of it is foolish emotion and when is it too much. What moves me to preserve an old chocolate wrapper that is rightfully garbage to the untrained eye but to me is all that remains of a tearful goodbye. Old restaurant bills that would be torn up and discarded are carefully preserved chronologically in envelopes because they represented some wonderful meals spent among careless laughter and the warmth of good company. But should I keep aside a book, unread, because it reminds me of a past that, rightfully belongs in the past. One that is painfully close to the horizon, when one more step forward will make it disappear, lost to the inexorable forward march of time. 

I suppose not. Plus, there is a certain satisfaction to be had when the final chapter ends and the back cover closes upon the last page.

Disastrophe

Dear TopGear,

Toyota's != Toyota is

As the Text Message would say - GR8

Supercar spotting on S.B. Road.
After being foiled once by a truant watchman who understood the importance of light in the whole photographic scheme of things, attempt #2 appears to have worked somewhat.

In case you have already ordered this, and ran out of money before you could check mark the Carbon Ceramic brakes on the options list, there is one more aid to reduce those 100-0 times - one which is very much underrated. Again, spotted on S.B. Road.

(:

Doping Dilemma

This thing adorning the skyline has caught my eye many times and as I wait for the lights to turn green, I wonder what exactly it is they were trying to say - and sell.

• It is a secure hideout for druggies - but then it should say 'demands'
  
• It is a secure hideout for druggies and this hoarding is an order directed at the people who run the place.
• Since it is not an official venue for anything, doping is fine.
• Other housing societies routinely conduct dope tests and its getting to be quite meddlesome. They don't - and that is their USP.
  

Other than implicit support for doping, I don't see what else this hoarding is trying to say. Perhaps it is something related to intrinsic semiconductors. But still, how is it going to help sell apartments?

Metaphorical Dishes

I logged into google reader after quite a long time today. As I expected, there were more than 3000+ unread items, a predictable consequence after I went on a spree of adding lots of blogs and news sites in the days when reading stuff written by strangers about themselves was about my only human contact. My own version of Das Leben der Anderen, if you will.

Reading all that was an impossible task, so all the news feeds were dealt with by a Shift+A (mark all as read), but for some reason, I just scrolled through the 'Personal Blogs' category that I had made, pausing to catch a sentence or two as they flew past.

Out of those, something about this post made me pause and read it in its entirety. I won't say that I identify with it, but in a way that is hard to explain, I sort of do. But one of the few times I turned emotions into actions, something went very wrong. Perhaps, in a way, it was my fault because the dishes were a metaphor for everything else and the emotions were misplaced. They needed an audience, but an audience that understood.

Block

While some people were complaining of suffering from engineer's block two days back, I think I too have a case of genuine writer's block. This is the third time I am visiting this 'Create Post' page - and once I am here I realize I have nothing to say. Rather, I have a lot to say but no way to say it.

:)

After a long long time...

You don't know how much you've missed certain things until you get them back.


In other news, this is the 101th post. So self-congratulations are in order. Champagne and caviar to follow.

A lost road...

In the beginning, there was a road. It wasn't just a road, but an escape. It was cooler, quieter and more importantly there was lots of space. Whether it was just a five minute ride to clear my mind or an hour long journey to have a conversation, it was the same road that beckoned.

Everything has changed now. Its hard to put a finger on it but there is no denying it. It feels different. Even though its the same layers of gravel and stone chips topped off with bitumen and asphalt it has lost its meaning.

Missing Persons Report

In the three days that I did not update this place, feedburner reports that my subscribers jumped to 18 (from 11). The moment I posted a new one however, that figure dropped to 13 and now, with another post, its back to 11.

Silence, it seems, is Golden.

Diet Hell

I'm sorry if you seriously follow this, but 280g of sprouts followed by six(!!) tomatoes is a bit ridiculous.

Living Dangerously