I love cities. I like the countryside too, and visit it often enough and say “aah”, “wah”, “sigh” and other versions of the same. But I like the countryside in the same sense as my mum is ok with gay people - ”I am fine with it as long as you’re not gay”. And so to translate “ I am fine with the burbs as long as I’m not living in one”.
But lately, most weekend trips out of NYC have been to the countryside or some version thereof. Things were getting very close to one becoming soft, nice or vegan. Imagine that (*shivers unrestraint*).This weekend though, Boston beckons. Its going to be really cold, so I’m checking out places where I can stay warm, namely bars, morning hangover brunch places and the like.
Today I took a sick day from office. Damn tonsilitis again. Had hot milk, lots of cereal and after that, for the last 7 hours, its been a bottle of Spanish merlot and once that finished, a bottle of Australian port (always thought port was something that came only from Portugal). The merlot is muy bien, but the port is what really got me done, even though I didn't give it enough respect as a dessert wine. I love sick days.
Today I also blew up a months rent on this trading account. Am playing it cool though. Did scream and hired a voodoo guy to bankrupt the trading account company. He says it’ll take some time, its only magic. So yes, as you can see, using humour as defense against stupid decisions. Won’t be the first.
Today, I read a gahzillion blogs and saw a gahzillion funnies on the boob tube. I think Turk has funnier lines than JD in Scrubs. Also, I realise, having lived in NYC for a while, I find Seinfeld funnier than I did and can sooo relate to it (Ironically enough, they were showing “the stock tip” episode. There’s a line in there somewhere that Jerry says - “I know the Dow fluctuates. I just got fluctuated out of four thousand dollars”. I laughed and then sighed. You know those moments). And I also realised that Friends has now become lame. It has its funny moments, but enough with the re-runs already.
Today was just a thursday.
Today, normal people in the UK learnt that they could potentially earn more money than film school graduates. Here. Alright Youtube!...you tell them that education is useless when it comes to pop culture.
Ok then. I need to finish the Californian Pinot Noir now. Its been a hell of a global ride this has.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
New Slang
I want biting wit. The sharp kind. Not like the one they’d sell at an IKEA for $10 and under $5 in a sale. More like the kind that you’d find being auctioned in a Sotheby’s (or Christie’s, they both price fix equally well), filled with mysterious, unknown, mostly overseas buyers.
I want fleeting time. Not the kind that is the Roadrunner cartoon, which is always tearing across. More like Sonic the Hedgehog, walking, enjoying one moment and then zipping by another, all at the press of a button (or for the need of a better time).
I want dreams. Not the sit at home kinds. But the ones with balls, big enough, to cross the border and become plans.
I want love. Not of the Romeo and Juliet variety, oh so fickle, so sudden, naive and so short.
I want fleeting time. Not the kind that is the Roadrunner cartoon, which is always tearing across. More like Sonic the Hedgehog, walking, enjoying one moment and then zipping by another, all at the press of a button (or for the need of a better time).
I want dreams. Not the sit at home kinds. But the ones with balls, big enough, to cross the border and become plans.
I want love. Not of the Romeo and Juliet variety, oh so fickle, so sudden, naive and so short.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Easy Lucky Free
Writers block could perhaps attempt to capture it. After all there’s the writer’s strike going on and the hamster-on-a-treadmill in my brain thinks its entitled to one too. Him and me are still negotiating. So justifiably, I was afraid to venture forth alone. Also, Jon Stewart’s disastrous attempt is not helping one’s confidence. One needs hamsters, one does.
But, maybe just this once. Just this one post without the bloody hamster. We’re in uncharted territory here people. I can feel the hamster shiver.
Also, carrying on with the elaborate excuses (to whom I am not sure), my erstwhile mucho free time seems to have disappeared. Poof!…just walked away and was gone. And, I need sleep. Even if it comes in little installments, I’ll take it. But its disappeared too. Poof!..like in those Archie comics, leaving a white cloud behind.
I read somewhere that instead of sleeping 8 hours at a stretch, some scientists reckon, the optimal sleeping habit would be to sleep 30 seconds and then be awake the next 1 minute and then sleep the next 30 seconds and so on.
This reeks of a mad scientist theorising on the days when there is no lightning in the skies, and so obviously, poor chap has nothing “mad scientisty” to do. And faithful Igor’s catching up on his golf. But still....muy absurdo this theory is...and my mother wanted me to be a scientist!
Why can’t these fukkers concentrate instead on getting a teleportation device going (yes yes, its the long distance relationship (LDR) that makes me wish for that evermore, but c’mon, its a win win for everyone, unless, parents or unwanted friends can visit unannounced. Hmm...ok, maybe there’s a reason after all).
It would be a disaster dating someone who was on the wrong 30-second schedule though. Right?
Lover1: “oh, the ways in which I love thee are so many, walking on a naples beach, I’d squeeze...”
Lover2 popping back to life after 30-second “optimal” nap
Lover2: “...and like I was saying, I was so brilliant at work today, worked till 10 in the night, wrapped the deal and my boss is going to shower me with money ”
Lover1: “dammit lover2! this is crazy. You never get me, you don’t listen to what I say and are so self absorbed”
Lover2:”Look who’s talking, cause....wait wait, don’t sleep, not when I was...ah hell!”
Hmm...maybe, its not hard to conceive that there are indeed people on different 30-second schedules.
Here’s hoping you find the right 30-second schedule person.
(Ah, that could so be a South Park moment there, complete with serious soundtrack in the end).
But, maybe just this once. Just this one post without the bloody hamster. We’re in uncharted territory here people. I can feel the hamster shiver.
Also, carrying on with the elaborate excuses (to whom I am not sure), my erstwhile mucho free time seems to have disappeared. Poof!…just walked away and was gone. And, I need sleep. Even if it comes in little installments, I’ll take it. But its disappeared too. Poof!..like in those Archie comics, leaving a white cloud behind.
I read somewhere that instead of sleeping 8 hours at a stretch, some scientists reckon, the optimal sleeping habit would be to sleep 30 seconds and then be awake the next 1 minute and then sleep the next 30 seconds and so on.
This reeks of a mad scientist theorising on the days when there is no lightning in the skies, and so obviously, poor chap has nothing “mad scientisty” to do. And faithful Igor’s catching up on his golf. But still....muy absurdo this theory is...and my mother wanted me to be a scientist!
Why can’t these fukkers concentrate instead on getting a teleportation device going (yes yes, its the long distance relationship (LDR) that makes me wish for that evermore, but c’mon, its a win win for everyone, unless, parents or unwanted friends can visit unannounced. Hmm...ok, maybe there’s a reason after all).
It would be a disaster dating someone who was on the wrong 30-second schedule though. Right?
Lover1: “oh, the ways in which I love thee are so many, walking on a naples beach, I’d squeeze...”
Lover2 popping back to life after 30-second “optimal” nap
Lover2: “...and like I was saying, I was so brilliant at work today, worked till 10 in the night, wrapped the deal and my boss is going to shower me with money ”
Lover1: “dammit lover2! this is crazy. You never get me, you don’t listen to what I say and are so self absorbed”
Lover2:”Look who’s talking, cause....wait wait, don’t sleep, not when I was...ah hell!”
Hmm...maybe, its not hard to conceive that there are indeed people on different 30-second schedules.
Here’s hoping you find the right 30-second schedule person.
(Ah, that could so be a South Park moment there, complete with serious soundtrack in the end).
Monday, January 7, 2008
A Story About A Girl
Well well well. With all the anti social-ness that I try portray and further... one jumped the virtual barrier and the cocoon it offered...and met a fellow blogger. In the flesh. Yup.
It turns out its not that scary a proposition really.
She came for a visit to NYC (from a place she won’t mention for the last 5 years) and she made a promise that she wasn’t an axe yielding psycho before we met. But then again, bigger promises have been made and I had to tag along a friend (to be fair, he just happened to be there really and not for my safety...just clarifying...I took along a bottle of mace for my safety :)... I mean it could be a 60 year old fat fart looking for “fun” you know...its been known to happen.
So having survived all that, Aurora, we’re a fan. That girl is a bundle of fun, all spunk, wit and laughter rolled into one. She really is.
We met only for a few and had a couple of drinks, and wished it was more. The fun part was connecting all the dots that each others blogs have been about. The vicarious life made real...well almost. And getting drunk. She’s a great drunk.
It was fun.
Her brother was most amused and so was tag-a-long friend. Honestly, so was I.
Disclaimer :- The author would like to caution innocent young uns that “ a lot of nice things turn bad out there and that its still a bad world,”. So please be taking big brothers, bottle of mace or other weapons before meeting bloggers. It could be 60 year old fat farts looking for “fun”.
It turns out its not that scary a proposition really.
She came for a visit to NYC (from a place she won’t mention for the last 5 years) and she made a promise that she wasn’t an axe yielding psycho before we met. But then again, bigger promises have been made and I had to tag along a friend (to be fair, he just happened to be there really and not for my safety...just clarifying...I took along a bottle of mace for my safety :)... I mean it could be a 60 year old fat fart looking for “fun” you know...its been known to happen.
So having survived all that, Aurora, we’re a fan. That girl is a bundle of fun, all spunk, wit and laughter rolled into one. She really is.
We met only for a few and had a couple of drinks, and wished it was more. The fun part was connecting all the dots that each others blogs have been about. The vicarious life made real...well almost. And getting drunk. She’s a great drunk.
It was fun.
Her brother was most amused and so was tag-a-long friend. Honestly, so was I.
Disclaimer :- The author would like to caution innocent young uns that “ a lot of nice things turn bad out there and that its still a bad world,”. So please be taking big brothers, bottle of mace or other weapons before meeting bloggers. It could be 60 year old fat farts looking for “fun”.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Piece Of Me
Not a britney fan, no no no...even though I learnt the lyrics of “hit me baby” with a couple of friends and sang it out loud in a party in high school once...no no no.. but that song title is so fitting. What to do.
So new years day...its a strange one no? In look and appearance its like any other day, and yet it demands a celebration of sorts, stock taking of the previous 365 and irrational exuberance in the next 365. Irrational maybe not, but nonetheless...cause the problem with the future is that it turns into the present.
Hmmm...average year really. Saves me the trouble of trying to recollect most of what went by. And anyway, I tried and realised these new year end thingies are not my cuppa, so refraining we are. No piece of me to shine a spotlight on. Very shy still. Horribly so.
No resolutions, except perhaps to have washboard abs. I was laughed on at that one even before the new year began, so I start with daunting odds already. Sigh, non believers everywhere.
Also, to travel. Am traveling this year peoples. Like crazy. So much so, that I have decided to redefine crazy. In an irrational exuberance kind of way. There’s a list, but spontaneity is on the top currently.
So new years day...its a strange one no? In look and appearance its like any other day, and yet it demands a celebration of sorts, stock taking of the previous 365 and irrational exuberance in the next 365. Irrational maybe not, but nonetheless...cause the problem with the future is that it turns into the present.
Hmmm...average year really. Saves me the trouble of trying to recollect most of what went by. And anyway, I tried and realised these new year end thingies are not my cuppa, so refraining we are. No piece of me to shine a spotlight on. Very shy still. Horribly so.
No resolutions, except perhaps to have washboard abs. I was laughed on at that one even before the new year began, so I start with daunting odds already. Sigh, non believers everywhere.
Also, to travel. Am traveling this year peoples. Like crazy. So much so, that I have decided to redefine crazy. In an irrational exuberance kind of way. There’s a list, but spontaneity is on the top currently.
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