Should I keep at it? Should I quit? Seems to be the two questions that fly out with each imaginary petal from that imaginary sunflower in my imaginary brain!
The question, obviously, pertains to maintaining this blog. I have lots of things to say. Lots more opinions. But I just can't find the time to write.
Maybe one part of the problem is that I do not have something to write on, as and when I feel like. Of course there's the ever-handy napkin with the shoddy imprint of the local bar and a piece of lead, but there are 2 evident problems.
1) Locating the crevice into which I have banished the scrap
2) Keying in the words. (The actual reason!)
3) I don't have a laptop. (Do I need one??)
I hate precis writing. Therefore, nothing pisses me off more than to write a stupid precis on the past happenings. That too all numbered and all. Arrghhh!
Anyways, its that time of the year.
Increments are in. Like always I am happy.
'The trick to keep smiling after receiving the fateful letter,' said a wise old sage, 'is not to expect a raise at all.'
The question, obviously, pertains to maintaining this blog. I have lots of things to say. Lots more opinions. But I just can't find the time to write.
Maybe one part of the problem is that I do not have something to write on, as and when I feel like. Of course there's the ever-handy napkin with the shoddy imprint of the local bar and a piece of lead, but there are 2 evident problems.
1) Locating the crevice into which I have banished the scrap
2) Keying in the words. (The actual reason!)
3) I don't have a laptop. (Do I need one??)
I hate precis writing. Therefore, nothing pisses me off more than to write a stupid precis on the past happenings. That too all numbered and all. Arrghhh!
Anyways, its that time of the year.
Increments are in. Like always I am happy.
'The trick to keep smiling after receiving the fateful letter,' said a wise old sage, 'is not to expect a raise at all.'
Did really sound absurd when I first heard it. A materialist guy like me, who's out to annul Madam Marcos's record and not think of money??? Impossible, I say.
But tried it some years back and it did work. It really did. So for the 3 people who read this space, try doing this (That is if you are the materialistic kind and dreaming of getting away from the drudgery of middle class existence in a Getz!). IT WORKS!
Cast away all fears and doubts regarding this theory, if any, 'coz it is said and written, 'the worm knows everything!'
Did a small promo with a director who I'd been wanting to work with for some time. The film's finally through. Have challenged a few decisions and gone with what I believe in. Hope it works, lest am dead meat!
Post the shoot, Vinyl (WILL SPELL HIS NAME THIS WAY ONLY!), Shaanu (The DOP aka the cameraman) and me were thulping the prawns gassi and surmai fry at Soul Fry when the conversational steered itself and we found ourselves right on the fringes of every Malayalee's favourite conversation topic--- Naatil veedu evide aa? (Where you from, back home in Kerala?)
Sniffing blood (Or should I say 'stale pomfret') we divided right in. After the first round, Vinyl was ousted. He wasn't from the region. 1/3 still doesn’t hold majority. Even in Kerala.
So, 2/3 rd's of the table took it upon themselves to carry it onto the next round. Calimari breaks included.
The battle was heating up. He knew every place I mentioned. I had heard of every corner he mentioned. (Thank you Mummy for those long boring family history episodes --- Kuduma Mahima. Sounds cooler doesn’t it)
Now we were on cruise control. Two dudes in colourful lungi's cruising the same valleys, roads, turns, on our Yezdi's. The ride was getting interesting. Till he jammed the brakes. The juggernaut came to a halt.
Camera pans left to reveal my mom's family home.
I say, 'Ithu…" (A quiver in my voice!)
He says, 'Ithu…" (Nonchalance in his!)
'Ithu enthe kudumba veedu aanu!' We bellowed in unison. Triumphantly we kicked up our legs, caught the fluttering end of the lungi and entangled it around our waists, lest it would unfurl again and let it in more of the family secrets.
We were related.
This has never ever happened to me.
I found it bizarre.
He found it strange. (Or maybe he found me strange!)
Couldn't see through his face as much of it was smeared with surmai gravy.
But jokes apart. It was bizarre. It was crazy.
Met a relative.
Ate a surmai.
I didn't have to pay the bill.
But tried it some years back and it did work. It really did. So for the 3 people who read this space, try doing this (That is if you are the materialistic kind and dreaming of getting away from the drudgery of middle class existence in a Getz!). IT WORKS!
Cast away all fears and doubts regarding this theory, if any, 'coz it is said and written, 'the worm knows everything!'
Did a small promo with a director who I'd been wanting to work with for some time. The film's finally through. Have challenged a few decisions and gone with what I believe in. Hope it works, lest am dead meat!
Post the shoot, Vinyl (WILL SPELL HIS NAME THIS WAY ONLY!), Shaanu (The DOP aka the cameraman) and me were thulping the prawns gassi and surmai fry at Soul Fry when the conversational steered itself and we found ourselves right on the fringes of every Malayalee's favourite conversation topic--- Naatil veedu evide aa? (Where you from, back home in Kerala?)
Sniffing blood (Or should I say 'stale pomfret') we divided right in. After the first round, Vinyl was ousted. He wasn't from the region. 1/3 still doesn’t hold majority. Even in Kerala.
So, 2/3 rd's of the table took it upon themselves to carry it onto the next round. Calimari breaks included.
The battle was heating up. He knew every place I mentioned. I had heard of every corner he mentioned. (Thank you Mummy for those long boring family history episodes --- Kuduma Mahima. Sounds cooler doesn’t it)
Now we were on cruise control. Two dudes in colourful lungi's cruising the same valleys, roads, turns, on our Yezdi's. The ride was getting interesting. Till he jammed the brakes. The juggernaut came to a halt.
Camera pans left to reveal my mom's family home.
I say, 'Ithu…" (A quiver in my voice!)
He says, 'Ithu…" (Nonchalance in his!)
'Ithu enthe kudumba veedu aanu!' We bellowed in unison. Triumphantly we kicked up our legs, caught the fluttering end of the lungi and entangled it around our waists, lest it would unfurl again and let it in more of the family secrets.
We were related.
This has never ever happened to me.
I found it bizarre.
He found it strange. (Or maybe he found me strange!)
Couldn't see through his face as much of it was smeared with surmai gravy.
But jokes apart. It was bizarre. It was crazy.
Met a relative.
Ate a surmai.
I didn't have to pay the bill.
