(05/05/09)
So after watching this 1996 film about 1964, I'm pacing up and down the length of the kitchen wiping up and popping the occasional unwashed grape in to my mouth, desperate to use the only (occupied) bathroom in the house... And I get it. Finally.What I 'got' that day, is uncertain. But I remember what a nice feeling it was. A slight buzz that would trail me pleasantly, until I wrote it down. But I took so long to get to the point, it had frizzled away. The film in question: That thing you do!
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(18/04/09)
Rosemary and Thyme (title only)
I was sick then, and my room-mate improvised with the said herbs instead of eucalyptus or whatever else is usually used, for a steam session at the stove. Which was brilliant. I have no idea what I thought of writing about then though.
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(15/01/09)
Having read a lot of diary-ing in the past week I feel like writing myself. I had previously established (probably more than once) that I would avoid diary-like-spewage-sessions here but I haven't quite kept my word on that.. I have also been noticing that when I'm into a book or have just finished it - my language and even the words in my head start to take a slight hint of the style in the book. For that matter I seem to be prone even to the people I spend time with. But wait, are you interested in what my lingual influences are? Does it matter whether you are? Does it matter whether 'ligual influence' coveys correctly, what I'm trying to get at ?And thus we lapse into 'more rhetorical frippery'(1) as one dictionary gives an example usage of the word. Here I had just finished reading 'Engleby' by Sebastian Faulks. It took some mild rhetorical frippery to find out I didn't have anything to say about it after all.
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(26/11/08)
I'm frequentlyWell, I don't know. I'm frequently... a lot of things! I'm frequently clumsy, I'm frequently down with a cold, I'm frequently returning to the computer instead of doing work, I'm frequently day-dreaming, I'm frequently awesome :D, I'm frequently.. no I'm not going to make this a painfully long list just to prove my point.
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(13/08/08)
"Futility is so attractive to they young, and I had not yet exhausted its possibilities." The story talks about the protagonist's nostalgia for her 'youthful days of unrequited love'. I forget where I got those lines from. A little bit of googling shows that its from a story called 'Hair Jewellery' in a collection of Margaret Atwood's short stories (Dancing Girls and other Stories). Also found a Scribd i paper version of the book. Which unfortunately was jumbled and I read bits of three stories that started with 'Rape fantasies', on to Hair Jewellery and another unknown one by which time I was very annoyed with Scribd. It was funny how the much the voice of the second story sounded like that of the first one. It was when she told me (the reader) that the only sweater with only one hole she had (she's poor), had that hole because
I made it with a cigarette butt, my vague suspicion of two odd paragraphs was confirmed. The earlier one only talked to me as if I were the anonymous reader that I was. Point? There's a reson all these were left unwritten you know!
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(18/03/08)
Before all the lovely spring snow interfered, I was working on a post that started off with Amartya Sen's "The Argumentative Indian", intending to talk about what I found mildly disturbing about it and continuing along the same subjects. It unfortunately veered off into murky waters of the shortcomings of our educational system and my reading encounters through school-life (including some silly whining about not being given Baum and Dahl on a silver-platter when I was 11 years old) and ended with excusing my digressions as a means of staying true to the blog's title's claim. And then, I decided it was too much for one post (the joys of complete control) so here I am, trying this time not to stray from the shoddy mental blueprint of this post. I do realize, of course, that with each sentence in this introductory para, I'm championing an increasingly lost cause...Seriously, whatever.
----(20/06/07)
A day in the life of She had two pillows under her head to facilitate breathing through the night. The symptoms of cold always manifested rather strongly (and frequently) in her and among other irritable things made it a pain to breathe. As it happend on most mornings when she was thus affected, she awoke when, inspite of the elevation, a conscious effort had to be made to breathe. It must have been around 6 or 7 today. She always sensed that there was a gap between waking up and being aware of having woken up. But those few seconds or minutes or sometimes even hours always eluded her and this bothered her in a vague sort of way. Oh this just sounds like someone else. What was I trying to do?
-----(04/12/06) The first one... ...is a major digression, since exams are on in a few days. Nevertheless, as I go off organochemical synthesis of interferon genes, I get to.... shit, I'll leave this 'under construction' right now:)
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A few excerpts of posts that never got to be a grey-and-purple on my blog. Because I'm desperate to get something on this page but am not able to muster up anything new.
So here's me signing off from a brown velvet armchair in a farm-house in Greater Manchester, that very often reminds me, unbelievably, of home.
