Figuring it out in NYC

There's no goddamn room outside

2012-01-11T22:21:00.000-08:00

So it takes me a while to express how I'm feeling. And once I do, I don't repeat it or wax eloquent to add volume for emphasis. I articulate it and let it lie like a wound, expecting the other person to help. Well, bullshit, not really. More to take out like a wounded organ, watch it and try and fix it before putting it back inside.
Some time, I don't have the tools to fix it on my own because I'm emotionally retarded even to myself I think. So I just put it back patched as best as and go on. Well, that;s how I've done it so far.

Now in this I have to help someone else when they put it on the table. The options are: listen, offer solution but making sure that in either event, to imagine it literally from the other persons perspective (the psychopaths empathy. Haha)
The thing is, I can't do the same. In fact, I can't even do the former. When I was looking for a job, I had to not only keep my own inside (which killed me near about) but also fix the other persons. Now, with the job, I have fixed, to some degree, a major person of my own wounded part. But I haven't fixed the others. Even with mine, I hold it back for months on end, twice this past week I let it out, on my own to deal with it on my own. Yeah, that meant ignoring the others and that led to well, worse consequences for me.

This is the best I can articulate it, dispassionately. To not do so would well, be feeling that pain and I can't.
Whoops, tried and felt it there for a second and no. not tonight.

I don't even want to say the two words out aloud to myself let alone commit them to 'paper'

Oh I don't know

2011-11-13T21:10:00.000-08:00

I've been in anticipation of writing this, of being in a hurry to type so that I can narrate (to myself, which in itself is bizarre) that it hurts but this time I'd like to take the time (part of my 'SF Chapter') to fix the typos myself and think about each thought before committing it to writing.

So I've moved and I like this city. I have the time to do what I want to, the 'life' stuff like watching all these movies (Romancing the Stone, Delhi Belly, Flash Gordon and Dune) in a weekend, walking around the Wharf with her, of stepping in and out of places at random, having the time to do that, of buying books (!!). I like having the time to wake up before I need to, to make the time to ease into my day, the way I like, to not worry about a dentist appointment because it's ok to take the time for stuff like that, of learning something new AND having the space to learn, still, in usual form, waiting for the catch (so far it's manifested in the long-distance nature of my r with her which is to say the least, the worst thing that could have happened. It's an incompleteness to everything every moment)

Moving on, before I *do* forget, I'm at a point where I can't procrastinate without a valid leg to stand on. For without good reason re the bad habits, the lack of forcing myself to do something with a rational, tangible benefit.

Also [] came out to me today. He did allude to the fact that us in dolores park booming (lack of petter word I'm ok with) would make it easier for him to tell me which set of bells but i had no idea what to expect. he told me he was questioning what he wanted and didn't say it explicitly (which i said explicitly and him not doing that would mean i would continue to marvel at the fact that i lived in a city with plan trees which is unusual because i normally don't like places like that because of the images i see i.e. of LA and SF is quite different yet with the palm trees) and then he told me so.
So after 20 odd years, i have to put a new dimension to hereto with fixed point.

I didn't ask him anything from his point of view, i kept going back and forth from the subject from talking about this to random gossip (which i don't necessarily see as a bad thing in my own definition where its going down a list asking how each person we know in common is doing, which is better than say, what, Facebook? eff off)
but i didn't have a reaction to mimic (that the word? no but close enough for the moment) so i just asked who knew, how he told them (not why because that would make me inevitably ask him why he never told me sooner).
But here's what's bothering me, not that he is out but that that fact is so much on my mind, it's on the forefront, it's there and i don't know why. I don't know how to process or what the process of processing it even is. Maybe this is the point you talk to someone about it?

Oh of being able to find the time to do this

2011-08-27T00:13:00.001-07:00

Things I Didn't Think I Would Appreciate But I Did After the Process:

-- a long shower where you stand long enough that you appreciate the feeling
-- walk past a bookstore, stop and browse
-- sit on a bench for a c
-- sit with a cigar, listening to music while reading something non-work/finance related
-- listening to non-favorite songs because heck, I have the time to really listen to the song and not just have something definitely good in the background for the time I can focus on it but not long enough time to find a new song
-- clean up my computer. And realize why I am a little possessive of it. Because it's my think-space, almost like a residual storage that well, is just my own library with everything the way I like it and a relatively tangible source of knowledge that it will be the way I left it. Which also explains why I get upset when it doesn't work. It's losing a library of stuff that was important enough for me to file
-- thinking about this stuff
-- while packing, listening to chura liya hai, one of the seventeen hindi songs I have and not just because I do like it a little; it's because it reminds me of Saudi and being a kid and dad's beard when he had it
-- while packing, the sight of my things, books mostly, in a cardboard box reminds me of living in Pachshila Park as a kid, my things from Saudi in boxes in the garage and having to wait a while for someone to open the garage for me to get to them
-- of calling up a friend just to speak about nothing in particular
-- of not having this giant preoccupying gorilla-thought in my head when I'm hanging with her
-- of being able to breather deeper than I did, odd yes but that's the visual form of the emotion
But really of finding the time to convert a strong desire to remember this feeling into words

Pasting to clear desktop

2011-08-23T23:31:00.000-07:00

My inability to organically express social convention makes me mimic it. But because, and in my opinion, it fits the dictionary definitions of social convention without the appropriate timing (or at least being off just one beat but being off nonetheless), it in itself gives itself away

Aspergers

2011-07-12T15:43:00.000-07:00

I am happy. I really am (about this, not the rest of the shitty time we are going through).
But I am happy for a few (three) reasons:
* It explains so much
* It's a better word than 'odd' or 'weird' or 'eccentric'
* Ironically, there's a sense of belonging vs. the isolation, a group
(it's ironic that people with aspergers want nothing more than to connect with people which is the exact thing they have difficulty with. Grass greener much?)

And then I am sad. She only sees the downside and ... I wish she shared reason 1 with me and got happy over it because well, it just explains everything.

I was watching Adam and Mozart & the Whale and it's the first time I have heard people say how I feel or process things. I suppose it started with Temple Grandin
But the point is, for the first time, *someone knew how I feel!* And that was brilliant.

I'm just sad she can't be happy that I'm happy.

Sure, there are downsides like emotional retardation but everything she has read online is about how difficult it is and all these people ranting.

It's the most parallely different I have felt from someone I am the closest to. And that makes me sad

Earthquake. Or a shift in things

2011-01-19T21:30:00.000-08:00

I woke up with a start and I swear to bejeebus there was

a small earthquake (okay, tremors or something)

(either that or the Short one talking

about hypnagogia had something to do with it)

(Subnote: she asked me to do some homework on it)

So I spent some time in my head

(I think I'm too tired to sleep. It was an awful flight back from HK, more so because of the meal at Chilli Fagara. They had a deep pot with bits of fried chicken but chillies out the wazoo. And that's what I think kept me from a comfortable flight. But I would like to go there again)

One thing I realized is I would

rather be the *remarkable* person than the rich, successful, heck even happy maybe. May be not.

(Maybe being that would make me happy. But a selfish sort I suppose)

Anyway, that was for one.

The other thing I realized is that when I do have money, I will spend (especially on family) without second thought. Perhaps to a fault. No, I don't mean to sound like an ass about it but I think back to the holiday I took my family on to Scotland. I usually remember det

ails, including the cost of big ticket items.

But of that trip,

I don't. I remember where we stayed (B&B), the train and the first class cabins (first for me. Last for me thus far), how excited my folks were, the brilliant car ride, eating Haggis, Dad in front of the soap/candy? store, hanging with the sister in the main street/market in Inverness, telling Dad one day we'd be back so he could play St. Andrews (I don't get golf yet), mum cooking when I got back from work, accidentally locking

our selves out and the sister having to climb in through a window one floor up, the god awful loch ness boat, the lochs, them leaving and me going back to an empty flat)

…

Anyway, there was one other thing. Oh yes, so I get *that* from Dad. But when I don't have money, I am, for a large, some?60% of the time, careful.

(Okay, maybe I can do better)

But the mindfulness / panic over it, that I get from mum. I suppose instead of a panicky extreme, perhaps more moderation to the mix?

My point is: maturing involves realizing how fallible your parents can be, seeing them as other human beings, taking the best from each but learning to recognize th

e best in them as well.

I just checked the news. It was an earthquake

It doesnt get any easier

2010-11-17T14:19:00.000-08:00

Disappointment.

I suppose all that is different is I will wallow less. But god does it not feel good.

I put in three beautifully laborious days of hard work, I pulled out all the stops to give it my best. And I honestly believe I did. I know I did.

So does that mean my best wasn't good enough? How do I reconcile myself with that. And 2010 was supposed to be the best year yet. There are 6 weeks left. Best year my ass.

Yes, I know I have a million things to be grateful for and I am. I really am. But.

It doesn't feel good. I really tried. And unfortunately I let in some hope. Not a lot. Not once did I think oh if I got it. But it went well, it really did.

I don't know how I'm going to pull this off, I don't know where I'm going to land and if it's going to be on my feet.

Well, as always, will let this be a swift kick in the ass and will push myself more I guess, what else is there.

I know I'm going to rebound faster than before, that's the only thing I do take away each time. But god does it feel raw.

Old Friends

2010-10-23T00:43:00.001-07:00

There's a special kind of pleasure in catching up. It's nostalgia without.
It's remembering.
It reminds you of who you were and where you have come from. I said something of the sort, 4 years back. And that in itself triggers remembering.

Of course, some times it's just remembering. The way I'm voicing it now is a function of how I choose to approach it. Truism but a defense against the accusation of drama/romanticizing something.

But perhaps it's that self indulgent pleasure of being able to romanticize and of having something to romanticize. Of course, it was a bunch of 20 somethings…teenagers actually but in the process of growing up.

And I've said this before, growing up is volatile, high deviations, peaks and wallows. Growing up is reducing that volatility. Mellowing down is an appropriate description if by that you mean having a better sense of control and kilter.

But coming back to the point (which is influenced by Chicago by Sufjan Stevens) is that remembering is fun. It's remembering how you felt back when. It's different. And I do like having the people who remind me of that still be there.

What is it that I miss? Angsty rubbishy stuff? The newness of feeling? Ooo. That. The newness of feeling. Of emotion. That. Was it good or healthy? That's a value judgement. It was and well, it was.

mmm, There is an End by The Greenhornes
aaah, even better: Trouble by Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star ness

I'm happy. Things are exciting right now. And I love that feeling. It's the same / different newness. Sameness but approached differently.

Selfconfidence, belief, faith ==?

2010-08-15T01:16:00.000-07:00

Doubt is the biggest opponent to faith. Think about it

The moment you begin to doubt something, the pure faith you put it in it disappears. [Edit: so does innocence. I would define innocence as the blind faith in something to the level where it were knowledge. Hence, Adam and Eve were 'innocent' in that they had pure belief in the world as created by god that it were knowledge]

For instance, we all knew the earth was flat. Then one day, someone might have asked, well, what if it weren't. Perhaps a small example thrown in.

Forget that, what about the absolute belief we could never have ever from the lower primates (98% identical genetic material be damned). But what if one person with some semblance of the rational asked, what if we did? It takes some degree of, I can't say courage because if you are a rational person, you will indulge in self doubt so it's a logical phenomenon that indicates upward to some rationale, perhaps the purest form of rationale being able to indulge in self doubt not afraid that if all examples but one proved otherwise, you would/could come to find the courage to question it. Okay then what if it took one person to have that courage/rationale to believe that *thusfar* all examples pointed in one direction but yet one remained, you could have a logical base for questioning

What the fuck is my point

The point: Do i have to feign ignorance of my (lack of) abilities to have self-confidence or can I have both together; can I know my short comings and yet be self-confident? The inference is that to have self-confidence you have to KNOW that you are perfect and infallible. So how are you self confident? Well, you need to have some belief in the fact. (BELIEF) that past history is evidence enough.

Thusfar?

Ugh.

[Edit: either 'ugh' at the logic of that statement OR that the assumptions are faulty. In hind sight, it's the latter]

So yes,, you have to BELIEVE that past precedence is representative and hence, you must have the ABILITY to deal with stuff and hence, not a belief in that you will know it all but that you can figure it out is the root of self confidence.

[Edit: bullshit]

I hope no one has to read all this and try and understand it.

I need to go back and edit the stream.

I take it all back. Self confidence stems from the faith in your ABILITY to deal with stuff, not know stuff. No one knows everything. But a few people deal with everything. How? Because they can. And they build on each one. So why shouldn't/can't I? I've gone through it. It's just a question of converting each non-step into a lesson and trying again.

Braindfood, nom nom nom

Bluuurrghhhhhh (vomit sound)

2010-08-08T18:20:00.000-07:00

Emotionally that is.

Stress comes in all shapes and sizes. From R checking facebook when she should be getting ready to realizing I don't have enough money for school, need a loan not only to cover me but us. $40-$50k of it.

Hence the vomit sound.

Speaking of shapes and sizes, the reaction is overblown but still scaled to size. So it ranges from irritation and a restless leg to running as much as possible until I feel like collapsing.

But like HH said, respond don't react. I'm going to try and remember that.

Also, I hate the exhaustion and I am a lazy person but I'm getting the whole running thing. It gives me some degree of control (wry: a common thread over the years has been trying to wrest control or some small measure thereof). And it's free.

So. To economize (and so that when I do make money, I can reflect and feel that I've gotten some where), sandwiches for lunch (PB&J, banana and honey), no more Coke/Beer but water. It's free.

I am writing all over the place.

I need my parents to be a source of support rather than stress. I think my mother over stressed my mistakes that now I am scared of taking risks that may lead to failure/mistakes. And I don't like that. But I can either be a product of my perceived circumstance or wrest control. Again, it's the recurring theme isn't it.

I don't like being broke, again I dont want millions but I just dont want to have to worry. I need to find a personal finance management tool.

I dont have much to say but I want to get something out. I am trying to.

Of the expenses that I don't regret, concerts. The National last week which was brilliant! A whole new obsession ensues, especially for 'Apartment Story', 'Abel' and 'Mr. November'. Ooo oo, and a day after my folks leave, MGMT followed by Ratatat.

Also loving Hot Chip and Fol Chen at the mo.

I miss my friends. I miss being home. But at the same time I am quite loving my new job/internship. It is with a start up L/S equity fund with an experienced founder and I am one of two analysts, certainly the most senior. He wants to open offices in HK and India and that's exactly the trajectory I hope for. So who knows, we'll see where this goes.

As for books, quite loving India: A History by John Keay and I do want to get the Thousand Autums of Jakob d'zoot or howumsoever that is spelled. It's historical fiction about a guy worked for the Dutch on a remote island in Japan in the 1700s when that tiny island was the only point of contact between the Japanese and the rest of the world. I listened to an interview with the author on NPR and he talks of an incredible isolation on the island; there was no contact with the rest of the world, only a handful of foreigners working for the company, no books from the Outside, no letters, no news.

And I love NPR. Am devouring Fast Money, the book podcast, All songs considered, all things considered, wait wait dont tell me and This american life.

I'm tired. Mad men tonight and a conversation with my father about money. I feel blue. I need to laugh. I think you can't feel scared/sad when you laugh. Those endorphins, gimme some.

What I Want

2010-08-02T23:34:00.000-07:00

Not much actually, neither a big 'Beamer' nor a massive house. I'm not greedy. But there are some things I want from this life.

-- I want to life a satisfying life. I don't want to work 24x7. I want to travel and read and think and learn. And I want to save enough so that I can do that and not worry.

But lets start small. Let's start with something I can get tomorrow and the day after and thereafter.

-- I want to sleep every night a tired person. It means I did something and I did it with everything I have and it was worth doing and I did it.

-- I want to get control over things I can control. It's not that hard is it? To eat healthy, run, smoke less. And they are worth doing. I can't think of a logical reason not to.

I've never applied logic to think and I surprise myself because I like being logical. I never got on hard drugs even when I could have because the weed hazed logic was inarguable: its not good so don't do it. So why not it IS good, do it.

-- I don't want to be afraid of things, of the unknown. I've survived it very well in the past. What HAS changed though is responsibility. Before it was me in the rocking boat making waves. Now there are two of us.

What does that mean? More thought, more planning. But the advantage is I have two people to steer this bloody boat (one to throw water over the side and another to paddle). I need to take more advantage of this.

-- I don't want to be so reactive any more. But it stems from the previous point so why belabor it.

-- I can't carry any more baggage, whatever it is, any more. Even I'M fed up with it.

I need to summarize, it's still all swirly.

Control.

Talk more.

Think more.

Do more.

Stop the memory of the shortcomings from coming in the way of new learning.

Work more.

What I HAVE managed to do:

actively (at times) chosen to be happy. Been capable to some degree of having a relationship that works better than I would have thought myself capable of (not that im looney but that I can rise up ... at times though tonight isn't one of them).

I know it takes a Herculean effort to effect change and direct my life. What I now need to do is recognize that it IS possible. No, not every time but it is possible. I did that with school and being back in the City. I did that with my personal life.

That happened through sheer effort and without much focus. But it did happen. What if I could focus that effort?

I'm back

2010-08-01T20:56:00.000-07:00

in the city. That. Is odd.

I didn't quite things would actually work out the way they would. Not very used to things happening just right. But that's because there's something in common again: it was a series of random events that some how I managed to influence. Or perhaps worked out in spite of.

I got married. But again, there were random pieces that were falling into place and I was unaware of how they moved things. But I'm back in the City with laughter and not forgetting. Because I love her, love fighting and laughing and ("you're annoying")

("I hate you")

This is an announcement

("stop clambering over me")

("I feel like Mt Everest when you do that")

"I feel like someone from Mad Men, you know, throwing out lines."

"We both know out of the two us, I'm the one throwing lines"

Yes, sharing my life with her. And its good.

What else?

I'm in school and loving it like I never did before. Concerts in parks, visits to the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck, pot, work, music, the weather. It's good.

I don't feel like writing a post catching up my life. I was there.

It's not been easy. But it's been worth it. And I am happy. At least in the moments I'm not in the banal (I can hear her clearing up the sink. And no, we take turns. It's just that I wash the dishes as soon as I'm done. She waits until before bed.)

Or in the moments I worry about the future. But I do feel like writing again. Like running, it takes some effort. But its good.

There's a lot that is good. May be there always was, I was just too self-indulgent to notice it. I will continue to be self-indulgent. Just not all the time.

Also, I write in staccato because I feel like it. But then again, I just saw Mad Men. And what did Don do this time.

His secretary.

Zing

2008-09-10T01:20:00.000-07:00

Marine Drive in Bombay

In Khotachiwadi, Bombay

(Love the art deco font)

Khotachiwadi, Bombay. Apt given the city.

The Last Smoke

2008-08-12T13:21:00.001-07:00

He slid the door back and the sound, while dull, hit him with its unfamiliarity. He looked out and as his eyes moved down the sky, past the clear blues, he saw its white crest hurtling toward his. Furious white furrows skimmed over the surface, like horses branching out from the main tidal wave, rearing their head forward, falling down as new ones took their place. The water was an angry white.
He heard the screams of the people on the beach as they ran from wave, Hokusai almost had it right. The ocean wasn't undulating across its length and breath. It was as though the horizon had been lined with white and was moving closer and close, bigger and faster. It was this line of white that was so massive it seemed almost still. It was only when he saw its crest getting taller and the horse heads getting sharper did his senses tell him it was moving closer. That and the sound.

"I am going to die", he thought to himself.
"You can either panic or you can dissolve into acceptance and realize nothing can ever change this moment"
"You will die"

"Right". For the first time, things seemed clear. There was no place to go with this realization. It was in it self. It was. There was no A to B. A was A. It was an immutable fact, one moving closer by the second with the power to rips, shred, destroy and obliterate everything around him. Everything around him would cease to be. Everything around him was transient.

He rested his hand on the wooden railing of the balcony. He felt the smooth, beveled edges and realized that some factory some where had set its machines on a tree cut and brought from somewhere else. The tree had grown from a seed. But in under a minute, it would cease to be. It would remain wood, but it would cease to be a railing. Would it cease to exist if it lost its form and function? No, it would still be wood. That was immutable. Bigger, smaller, functional, drift wood, wood was wood. A was A.

A was always A.

He looked up and his eyes gave the slightest of starts, they understood the passage of time, they saw the crest, bigger, taller, nearer. And it wasn't a happy realization of the passage of the time, not the kind when you see a child all grown up and realize the years have gone by. No, no that kind, more so a man who hasn't been near a mirror in years and realizes that his time is up.

But that thought lasted a fraction of a second. After all, thoughts too are transient and rise and fall like waves on the ocean. But then there was this thought, as unflinching and as immutable as the concrete wall of water.

A is A?
Water that wraps itself around you can shred every bit of flesh and rip you in half. Water is always water. And you will die.

He was fine with that. In the span of a few seconds, he made peace with it. There was no point dwelling on the unspoken conversations, the missed connections. They would continue to be, just, without him. As the water and the world would continue to be, just, without him

You are going to die.

All he wanted now was one last cigarette. Now, not the kind the man in front of the execution squad wants. Just the one who has the best seats in the house to the biggest show in his life, the closest he will get to the stage. he has always had an immaculate sense of timing, of finishing the last bite as the TV show ends, of the right amount of juice to compliment his last bite, an exact sense of work to be accomplished in time to go out.

He wants to finish his cigarette. It's not the most important thing in the world. But he wants to. At this moment, nothing matters to him but the time before he dies and the time before the cigarette is stubbed out. By him.

It is in this moment that all sense of control is stripped away from him. Control is an illusion, the sense of calm and making peace? an illusion. A way of reigning in emotions, the panic and the flight instinct. It is the last bastion of humanity in his head, the illusory sense of control. He wants to finish that cigarette. *HE* wants to finish it.

He looks at the ocean and notices how it seems to plough through it self. He looks at this fingers, holding the cigarette and takes another tentative puff. He can't hurry himself. No. He decides. The wave looms over him. It is in that very moment that he realizes he can not finish it and panic sets in. There was no control.

The roar is deafening. A is A. Even if it is drift wood. Even if he is no more.

With clenched fists and white knuckles, he looks at the cigarette. "I got it wrong"

The Last Smoke

2008-08-12T13:21:00.000-07:00

On the Lake

2008-05-07T23:45:00.000-07:00

Row Row Row Your Boat...

2008-05-07T23:44:00.000-07:00

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sidb1983/

High Contrast on Dal Lake

2008-05-07T23:39:00.000-07:00

Drive By Wedding

2008-04-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

En route to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival (I believe) from Seattle

Seattle Cats

2008-04-24T10:24:00.000-07:00

Katjie has a rather large purring engine, loves to play with the little plastic band that holds the cap on the milk bottle and had nose cancer. Also, she has a face that makes you want to squish her but sadly, she is not a dog.

Ollie is a one eyed yoga master. I'd pun about the Downward Facing Dog posture but then I'd have to smack myself in the face

Me footling around with light. One of the biggest throwaways from the photography class was that contrast isn't a function of color, black color isnt darker than white in a b/w picture, it's a question of the amount of light. I guess it seems obvious now, but hard to see the world in shades of darkness when there's so much color around.

Back in the Other City

2008-04-24T10:23:00.001-07:00

I went to Sri Nagar in between. I haven't written because I didnt feel like it and dealt with hmm, KLM canceling my flight, not telling me, rerouting me through Detroit, rebooking me, traveling with two trolleys through JFK, using the new Air India flight non stop, no smoking, reaching Delhi, going to Sri Nagar, getting an infected sinus (snot like the Styx believe it or not), reaching Delhi, installing self.
So far, just trying to reassemble life. Went for golf, dropped Mum to work, went to Nehru Place in 45 C heat, fixed the internet, fixed the TV, fixed Airtel to instal internet, fixed for guy to come fix shower pump.
Good heavens, I'm tired.
But now for one picture a day. Or at least an attempt at. If any one has suggestions re: what I can do with these pictures to get something concrete on my resume, let me know.
Nothing intelligent at the moment. Most sleepy
But. If you are in Delhi, mail, I'd love to meet bloggers!

Oh Dear

2008-04-07T18:10:00.000-07:00

10 Irrational Thoughts Rational People Often Think

Irrational thoughts occasionally occur in the minds of all people. Intelligence does not make someone immune to irrational thought. These thoughts typically clutter our minds with feelings of resentment and distaste. Sometimes they are based on internal defense mechanisms we develop to mitigate personal anger in an attempt to avoid facing the truth about ourselves or our immediate circumstances. If someone imposes stringent expectations related to a stressful issue on themselves or their close companions, irrational thought is likely to set in, and all parties involved will probably experience needless emotional grief.

Passionate perceptions of an event made by someone in distress can seem crazy from a third party perspective. This craziness is simply the sum of stress and irrational thought. These thoughts allow the distressed party to remain the victim while avoiding all situational responsibility. One must learn to break this momentary negative thought process in order to achieve continuous stability in their life and in their relationships.

Here are 10 irrational thoughts that rational people often fall victim to at one point or another:

Mistakes are never acceptable. If I make one, it means that I am incompetent.
When somebody disagrees with me, it is a personal attack against me.
To be content in life, I must be liked by all people.
My true value as an individual depends on what others people think of me.
If I am not involved in an intimate relationship, I am completely alone.
There is no grey area. Success is black and failure is white.
Nothing ever turns out the way you want it to.
If the outcome was not perfect, it was a complete failure.
I am in absolute control of my life. If something bad happens, it is my fault.
The past always repeats itself. If it was true then, it must be true now.

Your life will be more productive if you learn to avoid this type of negative thinking.

Source: http://www.marcandangel.com/2007/06/06/10-irrational-thoughts-that-rational-people-often-think/

To Read

2008-04-06T17:21:00.002-07:00

10 Things We All Must Figure Out for Ourselves

Learning is merely a component of life, like the limbs of the human body. We can learn a lot from others, but some things in life must be experienced to be truly understood. Below you will find a list of 10 such things, the things we all must figure out for ourselves.

If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things
you cannot learn any other way.
- Mark Twain

Love – There is no official guide for falling in love, falling out of love, or dealing with the emotional intricacies of love. Love cannot be taught and it certainly cannot be forced. Love is an instinctual feeling, a powerful sentiment, one we will all find under different circumstances and must each figure out for ourselves.
Friendship – Some personalities simply click and others clash. Just like love, friendship is a natural process that cannot be forced. Other people can select our acquaintances for us, but over time we will find true friendship on our own. When the conversations are comfortable and relaxed and a mutual feeling of trust is apparent, true friendship has been found.
Loss – At some point each one of us will experience a loss in life. It could be the death of a loved one, the devastation of personal belongings, or a vicious rejection in our career. Each of us is going to naturally deal with loss in our own unique manner, some taking more time to reflect on it than others. While suggestions can be made, we must figure it out for ourselves, morn if necessary, and move on when we are ready.
The Short vs. Long Catch-22 – There is a paradox found in various situations where we must choose between short-term and long-term fulfillment. It governs the path we take concerning our aspirations, desires, and available opportunities. Things that seem positive in the short-term can turn sour in the long-term. Likewise, disciplined efforts to meet long-term objectives can lead to a more dull short-term existence. People can try to advise us in specific situations, but we must ultimately figure out how to manage this catch-22 for ourselves across the broad scope of our lives.
Self-Forgiveness – We all make mistakes. It is an inevitable element of being alive. Since we are undoubtedly our own toughest critic, we sometimes inflict unnecessary self-guilt on our conscious for certain actions we did or did not take. This typically hinders our productivity and happiness. Many self-help instructors attempt to teach self-forgiveness, but every circumstance and individual is slightly different than the next. Experience is the key. General experience in dealing with the process of trial and error across various life circumstances is really what increases our comfort level with making mistakes.
Life Balance – Living a healthy, rewarding life involves the simple art of balance. We must balance risk vs. reward, family and friends vs. career goals, quantity vs. quality… the list could continue indefinitely. Over time, and with enough experience, we will be able to evaluate any situation, decipher the boundary extremes and find a happy, healthy medium between these extremes.
Responsibility and Independence – Responsibility is not a quality instinctually instilled in all human beings. Some of us have to work really hard at leading a responsible life. The key is to realize that it is okay to assist someone, but the full burden of a responsibility should never be taken away from its owner. If it is, the owner will never learn, thus becoming forever dependant on others. Cause and effect is the ultimate guide to responsibility. “If I don’t get a job, I won’t have money to buy food.” Our success with responsibility will eventually lead to complete independence.
Character Identity – “Who am I?” We all have to figure this out for ourselves. Character identity is incredibly difficult to define. We all have ideas in our minds of who we are, who we want to become, or how we want to live. The single greatest gift a human being possesses is free will… our ability to think, make choices, and take action with the decisions we make. These decisions eventually mold the person we are, our character identity.
Betrayal – Dealing with betrayal usually sends a person on an emotional rollercoaster ride. There is no practical way of preparing for it because every act of betrayal contains a different set of variables. When it happens, we are usually left asking a series of questions. Why? Is there another side to the story? Can we work through this? These are questions only the people involved can answer and deal with.
Happiness and Success – As I stated in my last post, happiness is doing what you love, and success is excelling at doing what you love. Nobody else can tell us how to be happy or what to love. As we progress through life we uncover these mysteries on our own. Once we have happiness figured out we can map out a course for achieving our own personalized version of success.

Source: http://www.marcandangel.com/2008/03/02/10-things-we-all-must-figure-out-for-ourselves

2008-04-06T17:21:00.001-07:00

Shiny Shiny Stuff

2008-03-30T15:56:00.000-07:00

Why is it the books now days, and I don't mean drivel, yes being judgmental but I don't consider Jeffrey Archer a book, it's a novel. So by books these days, well they seemed more adult versions of what kids read in college. Again, I refer to those who read "for pleasure" as one agog girl put it at BC. Anyway, these books have more of a plasticy patent feel to them than the smell of those old books, the smell I like so much.

I want to read those books which stick.

Same can be said for music. Bands seem to come with a shiny cling wrap feel to them, rather than the grittier feel of Led Zepp at Knebworth

I know I really sound like those guys I used to meet at the steps of the college canteen but to be fair, I did give music its place in scheme of things.

Random Drivel

2008-03-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

Polar bears can run at 30mph

You can't out run them

So you always want to encounter them with a friend

Then, you don't need to outrun them, just your friend

Ikea has no windows. It's so that you have no idea of the time you have spent in there

The kiwi has the shortest bill of any bird. Technically, you measure the bill from the top to the nose. Since the bird has its nostrils at the tip, it has the shortest nose

You Have Got To Get This!

2008-03-21T08:22:00.000-07:00

PicLens is brilliant. It just is and I've been dying for a script like this

Ten Feet Deep

2008-03-17T14:37:00.000-07:00

I am quite terrified at the moment. So I worked hard to get where I am, work at a hedge fund, do well and make some money. Great. Now I am throwing it apparently or so it seems right now to move to India without a job (Why? Because I don’t have an MBA so they can’t hire me) to try and find a job in microfinance for a while applying to business school.
Also, given the economy, b-school will be very competitive next year. So I have to apply to LBS, INSEAD, IIM and ISB as well in addition to the US Schools. And not just the first picks but the safeties as well.

I feel utterly fucked right now and I hate this feeling. It makes me nauseous, throwing away the familiar for the unknown, wondering if I am making a mistake that will last two years or so. I know I can work my ass off but it’s trying to find the opportunity.

I am leaving a city I know for one that has changed or one which is completely unfamiliar, a job that I was so happy with in the past for nothingness and a visa that keeps me away from the US unless I get into business school.

I just wish I could find some reassurance that I am doing the right thing, that things will work out, that I will be able to make something of this, that I will find work with a good microfinance place, I will study for the GMAT, get all the help I can on essays, get good reccomendations and next August be back in the US for business school, and then take things from there.

Instead, it’s that same feeling as holding on to the sluice at the deep end of the pool, when you look down, you just see your legs and can’t make out the bottom, that split second before your fingers let go and you start paddling, knowing that nothing can go wrong, that you know how to swim but unable to shake that nagging feeling that something will reach from below and pull you under and you wont be able to keep your nose above the surface.

Its…the kind of feeling that leaves you with an aching jaw at clenching too tight in your sleep, with the covers on the ground since you kicked them off, of looking in your face and trying to find the answers, searching every part of your mind to find a way out, to find a calm voice telling you not to worry and that it will be fine and not hearing anything back, finding meaning and something to hold on to and some kind of support, heck anything

Then again, as my father put it, he moved to India in his thirties without a job, a family and two kids and he still managed to make something of it.

I suppose I need to find my own strength and just snap out of this funk myself. I guess I’m in this situation partly to realize I can make something of an opportunity, to know that I can still get to where I want to be and allow for fluid plans and that I can handle this on my own

I suppose everything happens for a reason.

Or maybe that’s just what they tell you

Either ways, if anyone knows of microfinance opportunities in India, I have a great guy who, if nothing else, knows how to work his butt off and yeah, is crazy about learning as much as possible

2008-03-17T08:10:00.000-07:00

"The Just"
-- Jorge Luis Borges

A man who cultivates his garden, as Voltaire wished.
He who is grateful for the existence of music.
He who takes pleasure in tracing an etymology.
Two workmen playing, in a cafe in the South, a silent game of chess.
The potter, contemplating a color and a form.
The typographer who sets this page well, though it may not please him.
A woman and a man, who read the last tercets of a certain canto.
He who strokes a sleeping animal.
He who justifies, or wishes to, a wrong done him.
He who is grateful for the existence of Stevenson.
He who prefers others to be right.
These people, unaware, are saving the world

Chasing Dragons

2008-03-06T14:18:00.000-08:00

“Here be dragons” wrote the old pirate captain in a rather well worn book I read as a kid.
Or so I imagine. In a show of bravado and the desire to be ever the fearless one to his men, to feign knowledge of the remaining unknown, to conquer the uncharted, he drew dragons in its stead.

There aren’t parts of the world where they could be dragons. People seem to be everywhere, reducing the world and killing the imagination.

We live in a world teeming with activity, a frenetic pace from the first scream as air fills our lungs to the last rasps, perhaps finding rest only in those moments when we accept inevitability. And in between, the Red Queen’s Race. Wake, brush, dress, work, smile, rest, sleep, repeat. And find the time to have meaningful relationships with others…with others.

I still want the places in the world where I can find dragons. I don’t mean this in the same sense as Francis Drake. I’m trying to find a place where I am cut off from the steel snakes underground ferrying millions of lives back and forth, each an individual cookie cutter. I’m trying to plot the unknown in my head, to develop a meaningful relationship with myself.
In no way does this preclude others nor does it demonstrate a self indulgence/obsession.

It’s just that it has been a while since I’ve gone looking to get lost, to sit alone outside some where and feel like people are still building lives, still getting their hands dirty to build something from the ground up.
I am looking for a place where I can be alone, in my head and find the uncharted bits that have developed when I wasn’t looking, the bits that have developed over the past three years, find the dragons and see how fearful they really are and at the very least become acquainted with them.

It’s impossible to plot a course without knowing the gaping holes, without shying away from what’s within.

I want to see myself in perspective with, for the lack of a more romantic word, the planet, to be able to sit on a hill somewhere and look down and out on an endless view with no sign of another human being, to forget and to get lost and see myself as alone and free of everything.

What I hope to achieve from a seemingly idyllic activity is to find that rush, that tiny hint of perspective we get when we sit on a beach alone and see the sun cross the horizon, or look up far from a city to the night sky or lie on our back and see the clouds that drift by, that tiny sliver of perspective of how short life really is and what the point of it may be. The answer isn’t out there or up there either, it’s that tiny click when the piece falls into place, that life really is short and the whole point of it really is to experience as much of it as you can for, in the end, there may be nothingness.
And it’s to experience that unique sense of satisfaction and peace when the cogs finally turn and that unknowable smile spreads itself and when you feel a little bit closer to yourself .
It’s only when you experience that do you realize that a insofar idyllic activity of lying alone somewhere is replete with meaning, that you don’t have to run in one place to find happiness, that lying like that is as full of meaning as working hard or developing a relationship with a person.

It’s when loneliness turns to solitude, when meaning is found in the simplest of things and a smile without reason is good enough.

Blog by Nmbers

2008-03-03T16:11:00.001-08:00

Ten Things You Wish You Could Say To People Right Now

1. I love you, sleep well and I'll be there to take care of you before you know it
2. No, it isn't all that it's cracked up to be here. Yes, it's a great city but awfully lonesome
3. I'm sorry. Yes, I did hurt you and I see now it was best that we went our own way. But I still like talking to you
4. I feel really sad that I missed seeing you grow up and that you are a person I barely know. But I hope to change that
5. Yes but now I'm my own biggest critic. No, it's not fun
6. You shouldn't have said that one needs to go out there and create opportunities. You should have told me the truth
7. Stop being scared of failure, heck, you know that if you don't try, you'll never win
8. I'm sorry I led you to believe I could give you more
9. Don't call your self a feminist. Who you are changes with the boy de jour
10. I promise to never lie to you, even if it means causing you pain

Nine Things About Yourself

1. I live in my head
2. I believe we all chose this life before we were born, the experiences, trials and tribulations were hand picked so that we could learn as much as possible.
3. It takes a long long time to get to know me. I don't know why that is, there seem to be a fair number of reasons
4. I go insane if I am bored. Really
5. I am a geek and proud of it
6. I can wiggle my ears, turn my tongue over, touch the tip of my thumb to the underside of my arm and have size 11 feet
7. I regret spending so much time being conscious of others
8. I am a planner and even know details of the house I want to build one day. On the whole, this may lead to much unhappiness if I fail to get what I think will make me happy
9. I am very stubborn, obstinate and all around a difficult person to date. I can have this sufficiently proven. Heck, I wouldn't date me. But then again, I am one of the more interesting people I know so yes, I think I have a bit of an ego

:)

Eight Ways To Win Your Heart

1. Give me space when I need it. I treasure the time spent alone when I need it, just to regain balance
2. Rationally explain things to me when I'm doing my headless chicken impression
3. Talk to me, lapses of silence from my end mean something is bothering me and I would like to know you are there
4. Come to me with your problems because that makes me feel I can take care of you
5. Talk to me about stuff I am interested in. If I get all jabbery, that means you piqued my curiosity
6. Witty come backs are always appreciated
7. Appreciate the music I love, it's not necessary but doesn't hurt!
8. Give me a handwritten note. I promise to save it

Seven Things That Cross Your Mind A Lot

1. Where will I be at the end of the year
2. Will I get in to a B-school program I like
3. When can I have a normal relationship
4. How do I occupy my time
5. Will I make us happy
6. Will I rebound back if I do fall
7. Why wont the cable wire stay under the clip and how does it come undone every three days?

Six Things You Regret

1. Being an introvert in school
2. Being scared of getting hurt and not acting on things sooner
3. Being a slacker when it came to exercise
4. Being emotionally unavailable to the people closets to me
5. Over thinking things
6. Being insecure

Five Turn-Off's

1. Bad nails
2. Bad breath
3. An idiotic glaze when I talk about anything that may just be interesting
4. An attractive person who knows it and uses it as their biggest asset
5. Snooty people when it comes to social circles

Four Turn-On's

1. The smell on her as she gets out of the shower
2. A genuine, loud laugh
3. Her voice in my ear telling me things no one else is supposed to hear
4. Lips that aren't just a thing, straight line

Three Things You Want To Do Before You Die

1. Walk the 750km pilgrimage across northern Spain
2. Have a photography exhibition
3. Go up a mountain away from everything, sit alone and feel anonymous

Two Smileys that Describe You
1. :D
2. 8-o

One Confession
1. Read the blog

Big Swinging Dick, Customer Support

2008-02-28T15:33:00.000-08:00

So I had an interview today, wasn't too keen on the firm but what the heck.
And I was right, the guy was a big swinging dick, smart I'm sure but a dick nonetheless. I don't know how this happens to people. I know certain things are genetic, like sexual orientation (contrary to Republics quip of it being a "life choice"...right Sen. Larry Craig who even now insists he isnt gay, it was just him "sinning"...ass. Or how about those who are "cured" of homosexuality...it's called "denial" you shmucks and of course the bigger gits are the ones around them who has instilled this sense that heterosexuality is the only natural state. Bring back the Greeks I say...without the underage sex though this begs the argument of what is considered morally acceptable and honestly, there's no one I have met who hasn't looked at me as though I was a nut job when I spoke about the topic. I digress)
But how does this guy grow up to be a dick? Betchya his head gets bigger when he pops in a blue pill

Anyway. Also, I love Bose. So I got the gorgeous headphones but now, thanks to frequent use, they have developed that horrible problem those stolen British Airways headphones they used to sell in Nehru Place for Rs. 200 had -- the sound goes off and comes back when you jiggle the wire. My grand dad has a drawerful of headphones witht he wires running into the headset, all scotchtaped up. I kid you not. It looks like an amateur dried to put them through the mummification process.
I remember once, we got him a new pair just to find them taped up three days later. Further investigation revealed he had taped them up in *anticipation*. Preemptive strike what?!

Anyway, these earphones have the same problem now. However
* Bose has a support number clearly listed on the site. You don't have to go through a myriad of links to find it (hear that Cingular you bastards!! And doubletime for you Time Warner you sodden c****)
* The phone menu options are at most three as opposed to me having to sit with a post-it to write down the options as I go along to avoid it should i get cut (hear me Cingular you assholes!)
* The guy is polite (TimeWarner, wtf??)
* The guy *asks* for a number *he* can call *me* back on!! Holy crap, gimme some stock, I love this company I really do!
* It took 4 minutes to set up an exchange. I could weep
* I told him I may be leaving the country soon -- turn around time, two weeks and shipping any where in the world. On them. For the trouble they caused me.

When you buy a product, say like a computer or Windows, the relationship ends as you walk out the door. With Bose and Apple, it begins with buying their product.

How sappy do I sound? But I really do love them

Pictures

2008-02-28T10:22:00.000-08:00

Daily Drivel

2008-02-28T09:05:00.000-08:00

Good morning sportsfaaaaaans!

I can’t remember which movie that’s from, I know it’s from when I was a kid, sprawled out on the brown wall-to-wall carpeting (made by Mr. Walter Wall ladies & gentleman! – kudos and brownie points if you know which book that’s from. Also the promise of a dessert from The Big Chill) of the living room in Saudi Arabia.

Anyway, I digress. I came to a realization. Okay, I read this some where and thought it made sense so im copying, plagiarizing if you will. But, and this time, say it with me, I will quote the truth wherever I find it, even if it’s Snoopy the Dog
(another shot at kudos/brownie points worth 1/10,000th of a cent/dessert from the Big Chill if you know where from or who I am paraphrasing in saying that)

The two active ingredients for procrastination (for me?) are fear and doubt. Which is why whenever I have procrastinated, it’s always been over something that scares me. Maybe this is a universal truth that everyone knows, maybe it’s something now all of two people know, I don’t care or know. But I never understood my procrastination nor the pattern behind it until now.

So. To give up the fear means to jump into it whole heartedly, both feet going kerplunk. Of course fear is sometimes a good thing, it’s the voice of self preservation. But like all good advice, heed it, value it, then make your own decision weighed on the prospects of loss, learning and the potential light at the end of the tunnel.

Also, no plan is written in stone. It’s only when it is fluid can it adapt, can it not disappoint and all in all, lead to a better process.

Fank you

Now for some link love to Stefan Bucher whose video clips on daily monsters is brilliant. Go check site, I have already preordered book (well, it’s in my shopping cart).

Also, new dubstep chappie I was introduced – Burial

Badly Written Post, Just Want To Remind Myself How Things Change

2008-02-25T14:43:00.001-08:00

Right so I’m going to try and approximate the verbiage I seem to spew when trying to wrestle with organizing a burst of tangential thoughts:
Okay-‘kay-‘kay-‘kay

It’s been ups n downs including one meltdown listed here. But since then, I have moved on from the position for India (via London for 6mos) with a PE firm. The MD who interviewed me wrote back a whole week after I thanked him for his time. Also, given one of the guys I met in the lobby is a lot older than I, has an MBA and works with KKR, yeah I probably wont get the job. Oh well. Things don’t work out how you always want or so sayeth my personal Yoda the ear hair notwithstanding

I have had one interview with another firm in London but they do stuff I don’t and there’s only so far I can wing it.
But I let it go

I had one with a Singapore hedgie where an Indian woman interviewed me, everything seemed to go swimmingly until (being familiar with the City I grew up in) asked me when I graduated (2000) and then asked how old I was (you aren’t supposed to legally do that you know) but she did ask and when I told her, she went, “Oh”
Not an oh! or even an ohhhhhhhh! or a simple okay
The oh was more the you’re only twentyfiveohmygosh. Yeah, I’m 25 and still answered everything you asked.

I’m sorry but if being young works against me, I cant help it.

Now, I did reach out to another hedgie in NY and the lady described my resume as incredibly interesting (okay! Gimme job then!)
I spoke to the NY guy who said even though they are on a hiring freeze, if they like me, they will take me. So I am meeting the head of research on Friday.

I am also meeting another NY hedgie on Thursday.

I am also meeting a recruiter who knows 4-5 NY places which would be a fit and that’s tomorrow. Boy, did I pick to wrong time for a flu/cold relapse
Sniffle

Now I do have a back up that is a gamble. End of March I move to India and work for a microcredit place for 6-8 months while prepping for the GMAT and working on MBA apps. I then get in (to the MBA school…okay, one of the 5 I like) and then travel. I want to do the 700km trek from France to Spain i.e. the Camino de Santiago. I also want to work in either the wildlife hospital in Greece, the conservatory in Ecuador or the refuge in Bolivia (I love animals, heck I own every Gerald Durrell written and have read each one to know the opening chapter and what follows)

Of course, the gamble is that I do get into the program of my choice else I am stuck

Now, the options in order
The PE firm that sends me to London and then India (they don’t let you start until July which means I can still travel myself)
One of the hedgies in NY for a year, take time off to travel to India, then work with them for a year and apply to B school
Do the microfinance thing and travel

So, if anyone has any leads on microfinance, you got a volunteer here, twenty five and ready to get his hands dirty!

You Know What You Did

2008-02-22T17:39:00.000-08:00

there was this tight ball wound up inside me
thats what tightened when i got mad
and some how, you made it disappear
i dont think i can lose my temper in the same stubborn, irrational way any more
you kinda broke something and fixed something bigger

i've never met anyone who can do that

Falling Off the Map

2008-02-22T08:56:00.001-08:00

I’ve been thinking and the more I think about it the more it appeals to me. www.solbeam.com gave me the idea. What if I took 4-6 months and just travelled, lived on a shoe string budget, took pictures and then gave my GMAT etc etc?
I have the money, I don’t have a family of my own, yeah, the visa but I don’t know, it’s something that well, there’s something so delicious about it

I'm Tired and I Want to go Home Now Please

2008-02-19T14:38:00.000-08:00

I’m struggling to find meaning. If I thought I was in limbo 3 months ago, I feel it now more than ever. Every step is unsure because there’s no way of knowing if it’s the right move or not.

I’m trying desperately to bend my life to go the way I want it to and some how keep getting forced to surrender. And I’m a bit tired of compromising on what I want and what makes me happy.
How long can I keep pressing this way? I’m trying to get to a life that sitting else where, then what can I call what I already have.

Yes, I try and surrender and try and have faith. But it’s hard to do when every bit of me is screaming for opportunities. After all, I know I can work my butt off. What’s a guy who is willing to work 14 hours a day to get good at a job have to do before he gives up and wonders what the hell everyone is really after.

Don’t tell me I need experience, how do I get experience when you aren’t willing to give it to me.

This is frustrating. I had one melt down yesterday and am trying my best to keep a tenacious grip and forge on. But in the end it wears me down. It’s the same thing day after day after day.

All I’m trying to do is get closer home. Why is this so hard? Where is the meaning to all of this? What do I have to do get the opportunity I want? Where are all the answers?

2008-02-17T11:39:00.000-08:00

So I had the pleasure of watching what is one of my favorite movies now -- Paris, Je T'aime

I think it's brilliant and the wiki entry does a good job explaining it. So if anyone has seen it, my favorites:

-- the hair salon segment with the bald (!!) sales rep trying to sell product. The thing is, the entire short treats the line, "I love you" like a punch line to a commercial. Someone sat down, through their stone realized that it's become a punch line to sell everything from car insurance to perfume endorsed by the now skanked out Britney my-nipples-point-in-different-directions Spears. So, why not create a commercial selling anything but to fit in with the meme of the movie, have the punch line reverberate around Paris?

He gets there, gives the ladies at the salon a makeover, there's a picture shoot and each frame is a commercial almost for something. In the end, he leaves the head honcho n a flowing black dress, as he walks off into the subway, the evening sun bouncing off his receding bald pate.

The phrase then repeats all over Paris. It's just a punch line, to a product, nothing else.

-- the short where the old man is convincing the younger woman to "leave Gaspard"

"But he won't like it!"

"It's your life, you have to live it...besides, I'll take care of him"

In a continuous frame, we go from an older man planning to have his young mistress leave Gaspard to be with him to it being an old man, advising his daughter to step away from her baby so she can meet friends and have a break from him while the old man, the grandfather takes care of him. It's still love. But just another version.

--------------------

Bill Maher sends a black, twenty something female reporter to 'caucus' people. She goes to the "Ah! My Nappy Hair!" Salon in LA and speaks with 6 black women getting their hair done.

It's interesting that it's no longer the pundits spin of gender vs. race. Hilary is NOT a black woman. Woman yes, black no. And why does gender not win out: "I look at her and don't see my mothers strength in her", quips one black woman. So there goes the argument of black women being in a quandary

--------------------

The candidates don't even listen to the words of the songs they pick for their campaigns (wait! they have campaign songs now? Yeah, no one told me either)

In '84m Regan wanted to use Born in the USA (and Bruce Springsteen said no but that's another story). The first line of the song is "I woke up in the evening"! That it self reflects poorly and should give you some clue what the song is about -- a cynical Vietnam war vet

Romney used "A Little Less Conversation" by Elvis. The next line is "and a little more action". So, if I read this right, the theme of the party is, "get laid!"?

Hilary is using KT Tunstall's "Suddenly I See" and Barak had will.i.am write him a song which I think is a much better idea

--------------------

So I'm watching this show on BBC, Brit comedy it is:

Guy 1: Wow, did you hear about the latest scandal in the US?

Guy 2: Yeah, it's almost as big as Watergate gate

G1: Watergate gate?

G2: Yeah, watergate gate

G1: I think it's just Watergate...

G2: Don't be silly! Watergate means a scandal about water! That's why it's watergate gate

G1: No, actually, I think 'gate comes from Watergate. So you know, it's Camillagate. Like Watergate

G2: Don't be ridiculous, it's not a system where you take the last four letters of the last scandal and apply it to the next one!

--------------------

Right so I was watching this program and later they revealed that a woman on it was a porn-star under the moniker Ashlynn Brooke. Now she didn't look like one (not that I am commenting on *how* they are supposed to look) but I wikied her. And in all fairness, to avoid controversy, yes, I did check out the 'images' section on Google. Anyway, I still maintain, that like reading Playboy for the articles, I wikied her. They also had her myspace page.

Now, I have always been fascinated by the divide between facebook and myspace and there is no denying it really does exist.

So, I checked hers out to see who comments on her page. I mean, who would right, add a porn star to be cool or whatever.

Her page is here

You have guy's leaving her rose gif's to thank her for adding them, you have this chap wishing her for valentines day. I mean what do you do, troll myspace friends and leave them scraps? No, I'm sorry, I know I am being judgemental but dude!

Anyway, the point isn't to spit vitriol but I've been fascinated by the divide between facebook and myspace. And it undeniably exists right? So my point is I've moved from one limited circle to another. Delhi has it's own (albeit more democratic than Bombay in the sense more variegated economically than Bombay but still limited). And I realized even Boston comprised rich kids, my school comprised smarter kids than the average demographic of the state, my roommate agreeable from the backwaters was a philosophy major, applying to law school. So not representative.

My point is there is another demographic that I will never be familiar with. Boston, NY, none of them are representative. And such a pity.

--------------------

I want to go to places in the world where I can still get lost

--------------------

This is beautiful:

And this is hilarious:

Bugger

2008-01-25T20:45:00.001-08:00

I've had cable for two and a half years. I just discovered I get a bunch of channels in HD.

...

I want my money back somebody-owes-me-money!

I feel like Charlie Brown

To Be Succinct...

2008-01-25T15:29:00.000-08:00

“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”

Oh Oh Oh...

2008-01-24T10:14:00.000-08:00

and I forgot to add, check out Louis Theroux here

Some really interesting documentaries on everything from Skinheads, male porn actors, Black Supremists, Gangsta Rap...

2008-01-24T09:17:00.000-08:00

This is going to be a long post.
This is going to be a random post.
Consider yourself warned
----------------

I'm back baby!

(Elvis side-to-side hip thrust) Fank you! Fankyouverymuch! Hua!

I'm in a maniacal mood right now! Indian markets fell 12%, Big Ben called for an emergency rate cut, Amy was caught smoking crack, Kenya's unleashed the cops on slum dwellers, Hilary was caught crying, I didn't still find a suitable job…fuck, as REM put it, "it's the end of the world as we know it"

Now, there's nothing I can do but adopt the same attitude as Zaphod Beeblebrox , that cool frood and slap on a smile (or two given the number of heads you may or may not have) and realize that worrying only makes me look older (hmmm, where have I heard that line?)

----------------

www.thesixtyone.com

My new source for new music fix. It has a fake level up that appeals to the gaming geek in me. You get points for logging in each day, for 'discovering' new tracks and they have this chart thing, see, that if you bump up a song, it costs you points but if others bump it up, then you get some points back. The higher up a level you get to be, the more points you get.

The points are probably worth the same in real terms as cigarette money – 10,000^th of a cent. Or this is a place where everything is made up and the points don't matter! Hey!

Plus, it makes a very satisfying pock! sound when it wants to show you how many points you accumulated since your last log in.

Most satisfying I say.

Okay so I just logged in to see how many people liked my music and realized its validation for my taste in music. Still, most satisfying

----------------

http://www.dvdvideosoft.com/

This site has the best YouTube to iPod converter. The quality is the best (of all the rippers out there)

Why would you want this? Because there are some videos that are priceless. For instance

There, see?

----------------

So the job front sucks yeah? I mean I tried finding jobs in India but everyone wants either Indian experience or an MBA. Now, how do I get Indian experience if no one will let me work there? I don't get it.

Anyway, have shifted to looking at London and Singapore as well but still haven't closed off India, let's see how things go.

I had an interview this morning at 5am with the private equity segment of a bulge bracket. This guy was my age and asked me some stuff I didn't know much about. That deflates me. I'm pretty good at what I *do* know and what annoys me is judging someone by what you know rather than trying to get a feel for their ability to pick up stuff. It's so frustrating and even more so because it looks so simple on paper: I want to get a good job in India, where I'm happy and learn as much as I can and am close to the half-pint I love.
Right, 6 months and counting yeah?

I was driving back with BB from Baltimore this past weekend. He has been working for 3 months and is switching jobs. His girlfriend is here and he makes a decent amount, has a new car, lives rent free in Long Island. And he was complaining that he missed his folks, that he wanted to go back to India. He's been here two years. Last year when I told him I wanted to move, he was my biggest critic saying I was insane to leave all this behind. Right. Walk in a persons shoes and all that yeah?

I'm just frustrated right now and need space to vent. It's tiring, finding opportunities and having them fall through, trying to sell your self to someone without honestly telling them that look, there's this much I know. I think I'm intelligent enough to do the job you want. I work my butt off and am genuinely interested and curious and there's no way you will regret it. Instead, I'm trying to impress some shmuck who wants me to know what he knows (when half the stuff can be googled). If I asked him to do what I do, would he know as much? I don't think so.

And I don't want to vent to her, it isn't fun when the other person is whining all the time. But the thing is, every time I talk to her, I just want to get back to her, get on with my life and have her completely in it. Some how the voice down the phone doesn't do it. And when I met her in December, I got a small taste of what life would be like, for the good and the bad and I wanted it. "I saw what I wanted and all I got was a lousy ten days...and this t shirt"

Y'know, I do read self-helpy stuff (not Dr. Phil, more Mathieu Ricard) and I do try out the stuff they suggest, but sometimes the most cathartic things seems like coming apart at the seams in frustration.

Yesterday I was frustrated enough to blow off steam at the gym even though its -7 Celcius outside.

Oh and to add to the frustration, there's more. So each time I get angst-addled, I wonder if this is how I'm supposed to react or if it's the reaction of a 17 year old. I suppose I'm meant to take it in my stride and not throw off my hat and jump on it and on the outside I do shrug it off and go, okay, well, moving on then...but it's not easy. This protracted attempt to get a job that I want is so frustrating.
I really think I need more of the gym and to meditate.

----------------

Relationshipwise, well, I don't want to talk about it, I really really don't. Every time I talk about something working out, and I don't mean relationshippy just stuff, it goes kablooie in the face see? But I think it's going well and I'm happy.

Not as happy as I would have been being with her in the same place so as to not to have to flip the page over in the atlas but I'm working on it…still working on it

It is interesting, however I will add. It's not just boy-girl mush. We can have actual conversations about interesting things, and that's a first for me.

But again, I don't want to get into it because if it goes kablooie, and I hope it doesn't (ever), then well, I'll have to start a whole new blog and I can't be bothered to, too much effort so I'm going to make sure nothing goes wrong

(I'm kidding! There are reasons beyond the effort of having to create a new blog for being with you Shorty…well, a few anyway!)

(I kid! I kid!)

But Bombay was a lot of fun. It was comfortable and open and fun. And … okay I'm stopping now just in case this puts a hex on it.

But yeah, I do agree with her statement, “It’s like I’m introducing you to your first adult, meaningful relationship”

Ugh, to be able to step out of myself, sock myself in the face and knock some sense into me. I really need to stop throwing tantrums and well, grow up

----------------

I'm the least judgmental person there is. Of course, sitting in the car, after eating street dosas (dude, what is it with dosas in Bombay? A Chinese dosa with noodles and ketchup stuffed? Cheese? I'm sorry, give me Sagar Ratna in Malviya Nagar any day), in her car, the penny dropped.

And while she was kicked that she figured out something about me, it his me smack between the eyes – I am not judgmental because the minute I start, I see people for who they are, their faults and insecurities and that takes away from them. And when I was younger, that meant I wouldn't be able to be around them and would get very frustrated. So, I blocked it all out and became non judgmental. The problem is, it kept me from seeing people who they really were. I would have broken up with the Ex long before, not put up with another friends bullshit for a whole year and on the whole, not gotten hurt as much.

But I guess I was scared of being lonely more than anything else so just put up with it. And my friends, as much as I care about some of them, can be forceful and domineering. And some times vacuous and frustrating. I guess all I can do is accept it and still want to be friends with them.

----------------

My friends don't get really me and I don't know why that still surprises me

Me: so, did you have any interesting essays to write for B-School?

S: Stanford asked about what matters to you the most and why?

A, N, S: making a difference in the world

Now, as noble as that may be, I don't think it's true. For the application, sure, but heck, who am I to disagree, maybe all three *do* want to change the world. But I'm a bit selfish

Me: I never want to stop learning, figuring out new things all the time

(yes, I lack my usual loquaciousness but this was with a Portuguese-wine-thickened tongue, so bite yours)

N: you can't not share, don't you want to give back to the world? You can't do things alone?

Sweetheart, I have been for a very long time. At least I'm honest enough to admit that the singularly most important thing for me in this life is to make the most of it because I truly do believe the only purpose is to live through every experience sent your way. It's a mish-mashed philosophy drawing from the Greeks, Hinduism and Buddhism, Richard Bach, whatever you want. I can't profess that the most important thing is to give back. If I truly believed that, if I really really did, I'd give up everything and spend every minute in the service of others, just like anyone who claims that that's what's important to them, someone like yourself...oh, wait...

Me: Well, if someone isn't interested, then I'm not going to force them right?

When did wanting to spend your life learning as much as you can become a selfish thing?

Me: and if someone is interested in something I know a lot about , hell I'll spend all the time with them they want

N: Whatever Z, you can't spend your life alone, man is not an island

I know, which is why I do most of the things I like alone, because (up until recently) I didn't have anyone to share interesting stuff with, no offense intended

S: I think there comes a time in your life when you want to give back and …he isn't at…that point, he'sstillakid...like when you have a kid

…what. the. fuck?

I've skipped from philanthropy vs. living your life as the primary goal to being too selfish to have a kid. You either need to lay off the booze or think before speaking.

If it's someone I love, I will bend over ass-backward for them. But would I be willing to give up everything to spend every moment helping others? No. But neither would you sweetheart. And as for a kid, I refuse to comment on my ability to take care of one, least of all when it comes to one of my own.

This is exactly why I refuse to be open and share my thoughts and feelings. Ever since I was 16 or 17, I read that it was one person's opinion that the best life is a life of meditation/contemplation and that the point of it all was to make the most of everything we had, to really learn as much as we could. I really believe in that and that's who I am. Of course, if this is dismissed as being selfish, then well, fuck you.

I don't for a minute feel like I don't want to give back but even that is on my own terms yeah? I can't agree with the Mother Teresa approach of building a shelter for people to live. Yes, it's important,but if I had a million bucks, I'd want to give it all to kids who want to go to school, to people trying to make renewable energy to save the planet, to preserving forests, to fostering animals treated brutally...that's my brand, that's how I want to do it, it ties in with what I believe in.

But yes, right now, the most important thing to me is to learn as much as I can, it gives me a rush. And I'm sorry if I'm not one of those 25 year olds who wants to "give back" (in the sense that others mean it).

Are you really telling me that everyone is out to change the world? Then fuck business school, go and volunteer. Don't tell me B-school isn't about getting a better paying job, that's bull-fucking-hypocritical-shit, how will working with a bulge bracket change the world?

Yeesh, so much for honesty

----------------

Things I have bought:

· Photoshop CS3

· Happiness: A Guide to Developing Life's Most Important Skill by Mathieu Ricard

· The Digital Photography Book, Volume 2, by Scott Kelby

· The Adobe Photoshop CS3 Book for Digital Photographers by Scott Kelby

· SanDisk CF II Flash Card

----------------

New Movies:
• Juno -- yet to watch this film but I do like Cerra, ever since Arrested Development
• Spirited Away -- yet to see
• Across the Universe -- yet to see, but quite kicked about it, set to Beatles music, trippy and recommended by the Short One
• Charlie Wilson's War -- yet to see, came across and HBO special, was curious
• Sin City -- Frank Miller! Hard to turn down
• Driving Miss Daisy -- surprisingly, yet to see
• The Lives of Others -- brilliant, the lead apparently died shortly afterward but he did an absolutely brilliant job. And the movie itself feels like the period it's set in, a period of the thought-police, stolid actors, grey, reserved, I loved it
• The Fountain -- now this was interesting and very very trippy. It's, I suppose, a love story across forever mixed in with science fiction
• The Transformers -- oh come now, okay yeah, I loved them as a kid but this movie is pretty faithful to the storyline and I know people who hadn't of the Transformers and still liked the movie...it's one of those that's a decent action flick, not just stuff blowing up but a rush nonetheless, kinda like AvP and yes, before you snobs roll your eyes, a decent movie too
• Mostly Martha -- the original of the vapid Catherine Zeta flick, No Reservations. Plus it has Gedeck, the actress from The Lives of Others...cute without being sappy

----------------

New music:

Boy with a Coin – Iron & Wine

Hey Ya – Obadiah Parker

Idioteque – Obadiah Parker

Old Number Seven – The Devil Makes Three

Music is my Hot Hot Sex – CSS

Funeral Dress – William Fitzsimmons

One Big Holiday -- My Morning Jacket

Violin with Inka One – Paul Dateh

No Diggity – The Klaxons

The Way I Am – Ingrid Michaelson

The Long Walk Back – Just Off Turner

Nothin – Woven

Disappear – Kaitee Page

Hunting for Witches – Bloc Party (Ruckus Robotic version)

Getcha Girl – The Moon & Monday

My Friends – Stereophonics

Ashes to Ashes – David Bowie

Bohemian Like You – The Dandy Warhols

Creep – Radiohead

I Hate Camera – The Bird & the Bee

Diablo Rojo – Rodrigo y Gabriela

None Shall Pass – Aesop Rock

Dec '07

2008-01-09T17:52:00.001-08:00

StumbleUpon Words

2007-12-05T20:04:00.001-08:00

It's odd how sometimes you hear just what you need to, from the least expected source. In my case, it was StumbleUpon!

THEY Got Blisters on Their Fingers!

2007-11-30T10:25:00.001-08:00

More about Rodrigo y Gabriela

I Wanted to Write

2007-11-29T19:39:00.000-08:00

I do watch BBC while getting ready and when I get home. But it leaves me with the same thought -- why can't people just get along? Pakistan you have a power struggle and people die, the Middle East where a lot of it is, and let's face it, dogmatic principles of something that may entirely be a product of the human need to find meaning but how on EARTH does that entail taking another human life?
Okay, I don't want to sound holier than thou and I perhaps could think of a few people I would have done away with if I were Grand High Poobah Ruler of the Universe. But the point remains, how much of it is unnecessary. And it makes me sad to think of the kind of place I will bring another life into.

There is so much beauty in the world, so many things to see and understand, and even beauty created by men. Van Gogh, Da Vinci, Mozart, Neruda, the piano, zeniths of greatness, the ability to change the course of history...but still, I can't help be a cynic sometimes.

----------

I want to write but am lost as to what. I need to find something on to focus, to take me away from waiting for the phone to ring from this chap who runs a fund in India, yeah...still looking for a job.

----------

It's turning cold again in the City, I can hear the wind making that quiet hissing between the now brown and orange leaves. I love walking down the cement after a rain at this time of the year. The rain makes the leaves stick to the pavement and in the morning they are blow away by the maintenance crews but the dust imprint of the leaves still lingers, like so many brown chalk outlines.
The lights are coming up, the thin naked trees near the place I get breakfast, the corner of 57th and 6th, have a string of lights that look a bit comical at night, trying to cover themselves up. The lobby has a beautiful Christmas tree, several feet tall and all decked out for the Holidays. People walk past on their way home, arms with shopping bags or cradling Christmas themed Starbucks cinnamon lattes. The huge crystal light is up on 5th avenue and I can see it from the office window.
I was in London this time last year. Piccadilly Circus had those garish lights up and people seemed happy near the Troccodero.
I have to go shopping for my family and list ranges from flip-flops from Gap to Splenda to a laptop.

I find it hard to sit in silence and to just be. Even then I am thinking about what to do to occupy myself. It's the silences in my head that I try and stave off. I wonder why, what's hidden behind the chatter that goes on in there.

(a big smile)

BBC America is advertising the shows I used to watch on my couch in London. London was fun after all despite all the confusion. I just wish I had known that then. I had an absolutely brilliant time, even when I was sitting and sulking on the couch, Bobo sharing the sulk.

Oh dear, an end of the year post in the making? Time to take stock and all that?

If I had to think of five things to sum up the year, the first five, the Short One, moving, confusion, my folks, engagement.
I suspect the second and third and inter-related

----------

So many words and nothing said. What a waste

----------

How much is left to chance? Why do we try and wrest control from (Fate)? Everything is an accident, a happy chance. From conception to the moment of death, precious few instances are truly under our control.
People try and dictate how you should live your life, create an illusion of control to create some sense of order and direction. But in the end, perhaps it all is a question of chance. A chance meeting, being at the right place at the serendipitous moment, the right words said, the right train missed, the fortunate delay, all of them causing events way beyond our control, too many variable to know them all.
The only thing we DO control is how we react, how we recover when we stumble and fall, and how we let things affect us. But perhaps that's all we need?

And Something Scary/Wonderful/Haunting/Happy/Used/Tired/Mad/Gleeful...

2007-11-26T18:12:00.000-08:00

www.wefeelfine.org

Something Brilliant

2007-11-26T18:10:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. God.

2007-11-20T07:28:00.000-08:00

Pictures

2007-11-19T19:21:00.000-08:00

2007-11-19T10:58:00.000-08:00

How Would You Describe This?

2007-11-19T08:23:00.000-08:00

http://sanderplug.com/projects/39/chocoladepaashaas2.mov

Ignore Last Post

2007-11-13T07:07:00.000-08:00

I figure it was just a bad case of the blues. Am back now. And to prove it, here's something randome from the Big Bag of Random Crap or the Internets

2007-11-11T09:48:00.000-08:00

Dinner was fine, over her, Done with it

But if I had felt strongly about it, would have written more. Am right now feeling depressed. No, this isn't the oh people aren't writing in with job offers kind or there are millions of homeless people kind.
It's ...at least then I could have given a reason. This is just this overwhelming blahness that sucks away everything and you dont feel like moving a muscle and deep deep breaths far apart because every time you move, it disturbs things inside and I dont know how to fix it, no one has ever fixed it and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to snap myself out of it.
I lie back and I'm swimming my own head and I don't know what I'm thinking about because its blotted about and all I can do is focus on how I feel and I can't seem to distract myself long enough for it to pass and its...exhausting, not being able to do anything, feel this empty sucking inside and I see how much it frustrates the Short one because she wants to help and wants to know why I feel like things but even I don't know man! I don't know anything and I don't know why or how or what do about it.

I know I'm going to get out of bed, I'm going to smoke and hopefully drag myself out of the house to buy groceries and cook just to do something. And hopefully not mechanically but with some sort of feeling.

I'm scared I'll never meet anyone with the patience to deal with it. It's unfair I suppose but I just feel depressed right now and I don't know how to fix it and it's been the first time I said on the phone that it's perhaps best if I go ...and I've never said that but I can see the miscomprehension of how i feel and the frustration of ineffectuality that is no ones fault, least of all, hers.

And I suppose it isn't fair to have any one else deal with this so I guess I should try and fix it. On my own. Ugh

I wish I could describe how it feels, saying this like swimming in my head make sense to me instantly and I know immediately how I feel but I don't know how to describe it, I don;t know how to describe why I feel sad without reason. I just do. And I know I will soon snap out of it but it still worries me because I know what happens if it doesn't go, if it does stay.

Okay, do this by steps. Get out of bed, feet firmly on the floor. Hands on either side of legs and push and stand up. Listen to music while smoking. Shave.
Decide what to do cook. Change and step out and not think about the weather, about wondering what it would be like if she were there with me to go to the grocery store, get excited over the cheese, pick up the small tomatoes they sell on the vine, the kind you just put on the frying pan, let them simmer in a little oil and eat them off the vine (are amazing with a little salt and pepper)

Hahah, it's so easy to slip into a dream like that and then feel yourself snap back to reality and just go about it. Again, like always, stuck inside this head.

And yes! I am being dramatic but you know what, you don't have to be here.

Now to put those steps into practice. But first, deep breath

Halloween has Gone and so Have the Ghosts

2007-11-08T15:38:00.001-08:00

I haven’t mentioned the Ex in a long time. Interesting given that my angst and hurt was the reason I started to write, like I always said, was therapy.
Well, she’s in town and I’m having dinner with her about 20 minutes. Should be interesting. Plus the Short-one said much in the past two days that well, was an epiphany for me and matter-of-fact for her.
Thank god for smart women.

I Don't Know Why...

2007-11-07T18:36:00.000-08:00

...am suddenly acutely aware of the loneliness.

I don't think I've ever written about it, not even one line. I don't know why. Perhaps I just didn't want to think about it.

Ironic

"In the Words of Others" or "I Will Quote the Truth Wherever I Find it"

2007-11-07T15:56:00.000-08:00

Norman Mailer in the December 2007 Playboy:

I remember something else you said about getting close to yourself: "If you dig deep enough into yourself, you're going to come out your asshole."

(NM laughs)

In other words, yes, there are doors, and you must open many of those doors, and the ensuing doors with in doors, but every once in a while you want to be careful about what you open.

Well, of course you have to be careful about certain doors. Anyone who fling everything ajar at once would be blown away. A mighty change could range through all the rooms in your psyche. One of the most jealously self-protective elements in human nature may be to protect oneself from one's own dark and barricaded corners.

So I don't think it's a real problem that we're going to open, by mistake, all the doors at once -- we don't. We can't...

Things That Make You Go "Oooooh! That's Going to Sting!"

2007-11-06T10:41:00.001-08:00

Sometime in August…
The Girl: You have a terrible voice mail message, such a bad accent
Me: (mumble mumble incomprehensible weak defense)
Girl takes phone and records over my voice mail message: You have reached the voice mail box of Zaphod B. He can not take your call right now as he is undisposed with a girl
Me: (part shocked part amused)

Girl and Me doing our own thing
Phone rings. Scrabble for it. Can’t find it. Mortified because it has gone to voice mail.

The Universe screwing her over just begins.
Voice mail: Hi, this is (the Girl’s Ex). Could you please ask her to call me back. Oh and also, it’s indisposed, not undisposed.

-------

Email from Me
Subject: you can show your appreciation in kind…
Body: …with drink... http://3hive.com/
lotsa new music

Sent to Sasquatch, Bobo, Bobo’s brother.

Later on Chat:
Girl: crap crap crap ... shit ... fuck
Me (always game to join in): piss piss twat shit
Girl: “Alcohol is only a poor substitute for the kind of payback i have in mind. think kinky journalist. (other details), spectacles and a notepad” -- this is the email i wanted to send you. I have sent it to (Bobo) instead. I want to die
Me (ever sympathetic): HAHAHAHA

Time Off

2007-11-05T19:41:00.000-08:00

Relationship Snapshot

2007-11-05T09:19:00.000-08:00

Dating someone whose parents religious background is differnt from your own (non-practicing religion regardless of the fact that you are agnostic)

(via SMS)
Me: im eating crab stuffed into fish. how wrong is it to eat meat of one animal stuffed into another, on the jain scale?

Would I Do This?

2007-11-02T08:23:00.001-07:00

Post a clip of a cockatoo right after one of a Buddhist Monk/Philospher?

Sure I would!

Please Watch This

2007-11-01T15:56:00.000-07:00

The thing is, it all makes sense, what this chap says. And it's so simple and it just falls into place and makes so much sense.

And I know I'm going to watch this the next time I'm the throes of another funk.

Please, watch this

Matthieu Ricard (born 1946) is a Buddhist monk who resides at Shechen Tennyi Dargyeling Monastery in Nepal.

Born in Paris, he is the son of Jean-François Revel (born Jean-François Ricard), a renowned French philosopher, and grew up among the personalities and ideas of French intellectual circles. He first traveled to India in 1967.

He worked for a Ph.D. degree in molecular genetics at the Institut Pasteur. After completing his doctoral thesis in 1972, Ricard decided to forsake his scientific career and concentrate on the practice of Tibetan Buddhism. He lived in the Himalayas studying with the Kangyur Rinpoche and some other great masters of that tradition and became the close student and attendant of Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche until his passing in 1991. Since then, Mr. Ricard has dedicated his activities to fulfilling Khyentse Rinpoche’s vision.

Ricard’s photographs of the spiritual masters, the landscape, and the people of the Himayalas have appeared in numerous books and magazines. Henri Cartier-Bresson has said of his work, “Matthieu’s spiritual life and his camera are one, from which springs these images, fleeting and eternal.” He is the author and photographer of Journey to Enlightenment and Monk Dancers of Tibet and , in collaboration, the photobook, Buddhist Himalayas, TIbet, An Inner Journey as well as recently A Motionless Journey, The Himalayas seen from a hermitage. He is the translator of numerous Buddhist texts, including The Life of Shabkar. The dialogue with his father, Jean-Francois Revel, The Monk and the Philosopher, was a best seller in Europe and was translated in 21 languages, and The Quantum and the Lotus (coauthored with Trinh Xuan Thuan) reflects his long-standing interest in science and Buddhism. His new book, Happiness, Cultivating Life's Most Important Skill was also a major best-seller in France.

A board member of the Mind and Life Institute, which is devoted to meetings and collaborative research between scientists and Buddhist scholars and meditators, his contributions have appeared in Working with Destructive Emotions (edited by Daniel Goleman) and other books of essays. He is deeply engaged in the research on the effect of mind training on the brain, at Madison-Wisconsin, Princeton and Berkeley.

He received the French National Order of Merit for his humanitarian work in the East. For the last few years, Mr. Ricard has dedicated his effort and the royalites of his books to various charitable projects in Asia, that include building and maintaining clinics, schools and orphanages in the region. Since 1989, he has acted as the French interpreter for the Dalai Lama.

If You Take Away ANYthing at All...

2007-10-30T19:41:00.000-07:00

...from being here, go to www.ted.com
Listen to the stuff there. It's insanely brilliant.

I have spent a delightful hour today listening to 30 minutes on the failure of markets for rural farmers in Africa (by this former World Bank economist who has now set up the Ethiopian Commodities Exchange or the ECEX) to an Indian neuroscientist talk about fascinating and rare brain disorders.

Trust me, it's simply brilliant

Bloody Hell, This Actually Worked!!

2007-10-30T19:39:00.000-07:00

Cure for hiccups

Step 1: Start by inhaling through your mouth until your lungs feel full (when it feels like you cannot inhale any more). For overall best results, try to do this as quickly as you can. DO NOT LET ANY AIR OUT.

Step 2: Swallow. You are not really swallowing anything but it seems that without this act, it doesn’t work. DO NOT LET ANY AIR OUT.

Step 3: Now inhale some more. You don’t need to inhale a lot, but do get some more air in. It will start to get difficult to do this as you go, but keep trying. You obviously can’t suck in as much air as you did initially, but just a little will do (think of it as taking a “sip” of air). DO NOT LET ANY AIR OUT.

Step 4: Swallow again. This too will start to get difficult as you go. DO NOT LET ANY AIR OUT.

It took me one go!

Untitled

2007-10-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

I want to lose you to get you back so I never under appreciate you.

It's when you lose something and get it back do you realize how much it means to you. It's been a while since I put the lid down and thought.

I can sit alone and be engrossed in my own thoughts and musings, but I haven't stood back and seen who I am.

It's been a while.

Garble Garble

2007-10-30T17:43:00.000-07:00

Bertrand Russell said everything becomes extinct at some point or another. Now I was thinking and given I am EXHAUSTED, thoughts tend to ramble as zig-zagged as my own meandering tired steps. Yes, indulgent prose, sue me. (Have your people call my people, we'll do lunch)

Now, we come into the world screaming (or if not, are smacked and then start screaming) and is there any point in continuing that way? I have been so burdened by things that they always get me down. I'd like to think I'm self aware. Id' like to believe my own conclusion and the thing is, there's honestly not much to be sad about. I mean if everything really comes to an end, what's the point of searching for a point? And I mean that word literally, a point as in a point in time, a state, a singular state of being be it marrying a rich banker and getting fake boobs or having picket fences. There's no knowing if we get to that point, we will be happy.

Maybe the whole point is to stop thinking about being at a point and just enjoy the ride, do what you can, be happy, learn and have fun. Perhaps it becomes clearer along the way.

Of course, believing this requires a leap of faith.

I could just be talking rubbish because I am so tired and blood rushed out of my head on the walk home and no, I did not pass a pretty girl, I am just tired.

But for some reason, relieved.

I don't want to be sad any more. Melancholic, sure, brooding, hell yeah, angst addled wretched lonely in my head fine it's part of the package.
But not sad.

We'll see how long this mood lasts
;o)

Email

2007-10-29T05:33:00.000-07:00

Me: did you have a fun Friday night? You said you wanted to stay in but your girlfriend wanted to go out (she’s 24)
A: no, we stayed in but she invite her friends over, these two other couples....I feel trapped (he's 31)
Me: aww, that’s so cute, you're entertaining couples together!
A: the pressure is on man, her family is really Gujrati and she’s 24
Me: (smack my head against the table)

The Ex wanted to get engaged but he held out and he's 28

You and I have to realize that guys, the WORLD over will NEVER be as mature as girls except when they are 40.
But I truly hope that I’m mature enough that the desire to run for the hills is immutably (because you love the word) outweighed by how much I love you and want to be with you

This Makes Me Sick

2007-10-28T11:22:00.001-07:00

How is this indoctrination any different from the Nazi Youth Party?
Fucking bastards, leading the sheep and teaching them to feed on the 'other'

ADD Strikes Again, on Neruda, MASH, Monkeys and Three Strikes

2007-10-28T11:10:00.000-07:00

Zaphod browsing through the TV channels, '50s movie comes on:
Cowboy, wistfully: Ah yes, now those were simpler days and simpler times
Zaphod: when were the times any simpler. Everyone wants to go back to the then, talk about everyone wanting to be there either yesterday or tomorrow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone seems to want to find a a purpose in life. Now if you think about people in Africa who have to move around finding food, who have to, at the rate of painting a pithy, walk miles for potable water, well, do you think they look for a purpose? Their entire existence is to live from day to day, to just live.
We have too much time on our hands. The removable of the need to just live has created a vaccuum that must be filled by a thus unknowable purpose. In the end, it's just one thing, one common thread that runs through every human being that has and will ever more exist: to be happy.
If it's finding an easy meal in millets or truffles, we all move toward a common aim and that aim is happiness. Aristotle defined it best by not defining it all. He defined it as that we all move toward, however you define it.
We keep looking for purpose and meaning. Maybe it's a wild goose chase, the fact that we are alive, that was the purpose. Perhaps we do it so well, that we have forgotten how hard it used to be and how much of our days went in doing just that.
We seem to be monkeys with too much time on our hands.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It happened again. The new Mac OS is out and I was dying for it to come out. It came out Friday and I walked to the store and picked it up but I couldn't bring myself to pay money for something I don't need, for something that is so superfluous to my life that I can't buy it and yet remember the guy I saw huddled in the cold near the subway station, swaddled in a blanket the same color as the cold concrete.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why I love MASH: where else can you find such a simple and innocent joke that isn't anything other than what it is, something to make you laugh, laden with simplicity
Supply officer: you know this kind of trading goes on in the army all the time. Remember Major, I got you those leather knee high boots with the spiked heels?
Major Margaret Houlighan: No no! (gesticulating)
Colonel Potter: with spiked heels? how do you fish in those?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something I read that blew me away and I haven't been able to stop reading it:
I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

-- Neruda, Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something brilliant I saw:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And a few things that occurred to me:
-- I tend to over analyze myself and cut myself off from emotions. I was wondering why I do this so much and the answer is rather simple. I hate losing control. Whenever it has come to other people, I have always always been disappointed. I feel sad. To stop that, either I control every outcome or I disassociate myself from that bluesyness. There have been so many relationship issues that have tossed my emotions wildly, including my getting back with the Ex for the emotional masochism I put myself through (which has eerie manifestations in some sexual fantasies), it terrifies me that I put myself thorough it. It really feels like the emotional equivalent of cutting except its worse and deeper.
But I digress. I cut myself off to be in control.

-- I am terrified of dropping my walls because I'm scared that someone who really likes me will see something they don't like and leave... that they'll see the dark stuff that used to cause the prickly feeling at the back of my neck, taht horrible temper I keep away. And how can I live with that? So I put on walls faster than they can get through so either they leave, like the Ex, or they become frustrated like the Sasquatch.

-- I have had intimacy issues yes, that would explain a string of relationships based on sex. Because it's just that, sex, I leave a few hours later and resume my life, my thoughts and who I am. I think there's nothing harder that the intimacy when you are naked and it's only when you feel comfortable with who you are, that's when you may be able to share who you are

-- I'm still trying to remember the first moment when I was terrified of losing control, the situation and why I dread it so

-- Self awareness breeds loneliness. The better you know yourself, the more defined becomes the kind of person you want to be with. Friendships lose their veneer and become the average, and like bad acting, you tend to overlook the average and the bad and just find a basic delivery and move on, but like good acting, you try and find the ones who accept and want to be with you
The more defined the person you want to be around, the less you find it and the lonelier you get

-- There is much to be said about content in and of yourself, of being able to be with your self in your head and alone. People come and people go, as does the happiness they bring. People change and so does what they bring and give and share with you. But while this is a great cynical thought, I never want to lose sight of the fact that I want to be with a person who loves me for me, who sees through my walls, the cracks and the dents and the fears and never wants to leave.

-- To quote the Sasquatch who increasingly sees through me said, "you show more when you run away". Fuck, either that means I have met someone who I can't hide myself from or I need to do a better job covering my tracks. But even that she sees through and I turn around and face her and make it a battle field. I think I am rubbish at relationships, I can make the other person feel loved and beautiful. But the moment they want to get under my skin, I turn ugly. Of course, as she has said twice in twelve hours, it's as though she is introducing me to a meaningful relationship for the first time. I'm scared she may be right. Or, in my usual humors vein, I'm a blank slate and she can do what she wants!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The US has this law called the Three Strikes Law whereby the third time you are convicted for a crime, you are given a lenghtier sentence than had it been your first offense. I find it odd to name a law after a sport, especially one like baseball. Imagine if we had the Silly Point Law or the Law of Square Drives in India.

Oye Sasquatch

2007-10-26T16:45:00.001-07:00

?

2007-10-26T13:33:00.001-07:00

10 Points if You Get This One

2007-10-26T12:46:00.001-07:00

Me: you're a naughty little smurfette
bad little smurfette
Tiny: i dont care if you're as big as a giant whale
me: well i'll just grin and call you jonah

Any Christians in the house?
Also, where there HELL do I get these references from.

Also, is it bad I said 'hell' (looks around surrepitiously)

Random Line That Refuses to Leave

2007-10-26T09:37:00.000-07:00

Time to step up.

What Eventally Came of Major Tom

2007-10-26T05:38:00.001-07:00

I Wish I Hadn't Seen This

2007-10-25T09:44:00.000-07:00

So as a kid I loved Sesame Street. But I used to watch Rainbow as well.
Today, I came across this clip:

and it shocked the bejesus out of me and I kept checking to see if it was an over dub. Guess it wasn't

"In 1979, the cast and crew of Rainbow made a special edition for the Thames TV staff Christmas tape, sometimes referred to as the "Twangers" episode. This show featured plenty of intended sexual innuendo (beginning with Zippy peeling a banana, saying "One skin, two skin, three skin, four..." before being interrupted), and although not shown at the time (as it was never intended to air), it has since been aired for the amusement of those who grew up with the show. The clip became famous after being aired on Victor Lewis-Smith's Channel 4 programme TV Offal (1997) and was jokingly referred to as 'the pilot episode', which it clearly wasn't as Geoffrey Hayes was presenter at the time. (It should be noted that the external page, linked below, erroneously claims that the episode was publicly broadcast as a regular episode.)
TV Offal also broadcast some very risqué material featuring members of the cast when they were guests on a variety show hosted by comedian Jim Davidson in the 1980's; the sketch in question, which featured former children's TV presenter Tommy Boyd, asking a question about Adam and Eve. Boyd and Davidson used some profanities in the sketch, along with some innuendo from George (presumably again not intended for broadcast like the above), but the most shocking moment was when Zippy exclaimed to Geoffrey: "The fucking Garden of Eden!" [2].
Comedian Bobby Davro also parodied Rainbow as a comedy sketch in his own TV series in the early-1990s, playing the part of Geoffrey alongside exaggerated versions of Bungle and the puppets, which contained some mild sexual innuendo. (Davro had appeared in a regular edition of the show, in which he performed amusing impressions of the characters in front of them.)"

Why Didn't I Think of That? (This is a Rhetorical Question Stemming From My Ego Which Realizes There is Much to be Learned)

2007-10-25T08:29:00.000-07:00

If you want to reach a state of bliss, then go beyond your ego and the internal dialogue. Make a decision to relinquish the need to control, the need to be approved, and the need to judge. Those are the three things the ego is doing all the time. It's very important to be aware of them every time they come up.

-- Deepak Chopra via ST

Also,

MumSpeak

2007-10-25T08:27:00.000-07:00

Mum: So yeah, even another astrologer said you would get it by 27th November. That’s the second one. He also said you are lucky for Dad
Me: (Lucky? Lucky how? Like a rabbits foot? He has to pat my head before starting something new? Lucky how exactly?) Argghh, I wish you wouldn’t put stock in this
Mum: So, how are you doing?
Me: Well, you should already know! What did the astrologer say about how I’m doing?
Mum: Har har, ut your father is going to Gwalior to show it to this other guy and we’ll confirm it then, but to the point, how is Shorty doing?
Me: waitaminute! Another one?! And I get rather suspicious when you go straight from astrology talk to asking about her!
Mum: Well, I have to know if I need to look at her in another light
Me: (How many kinds of lights are there? I don’t even want to know)
Mum: Ask her to come to Delhi
Me: Well, I will, all in good time, don’t make me hurry things up! (Why is it women crave babies? And not just having their own but having their own babies have babies?)
Me: Besides, I’m moving home aren’t I (I ask her rather sardonically) and then you’ll be there
Mum: If it’s Bombay, I’ll be there all the time!
Me: Of course you will, who else will find me a place, unpack my stuff, arrange it, find a dhobi, interview prospective cleaning people. You’ll be there and I won’t even have to ask, you’ll do all this for me
Mum:…
Mum: asshole

Bronx Zoo, Central Park

2007-10-25T05:55:00.000-07:00

It's Extremely Effective...

2007-10-24T09:36:00.000-07:00

...it completely kills my libido

See, Here's Why I Get Agitated

2007-10-24T08:58:00.001-07:00

The Sasquatch is quite aware of politics and things that go way beyond my comprehension and I really love that about her.
But here's why I can't bear to listen to politicians. India or the US, they are all monkeys. And point in case, my favorite:

What. The. Fuck...In French

2007-10-24T08:49:00.001-07:00

Navigate to http://translate.google.com/translate_t?langpair=fr|en
Type in sarkozy sarkozy sarkozy

I don't know if it still pops up but here's what I got

If I Can Get aTall Skinny Half Caff Caramel Macchiato...

2007-10-24T08:30:00.000-07:00

...then I can get indie folk/rock as seen in this.
If you take anything from some of the drivel on this blog, listen to the song "Your Rocky Spine". If you do not like it, you are wrong and have no soul.
Personally this song reminds me of "Brokeback Mountain". No, I don't mean gay sex with cowboys no matter how exuberant a cowbow you imagine. In any event, go listen.
Oh and more about the band here ----> X

Trippy Ass Shiite

2007-10-24T07:55:00.001-07:00

I don't know how I feel about Crystal Castles. It has an Indie DaftPunk-early Euro-basement techno feel to it. Of course, they describe it as "ferocious, asphyxiating sheets of warped two-dimensional Gameboy glitches and bruising drum bombast pierce [the] skull with sheer shrill force, burrowing deep into the brain like a fever"

If you do click on this, listen to 'Alice Practice'

----------------------------------------------------------------

In the mean time, here's something else I'm going nuts over. Yeah, it's probably a bit dated but still has a brilliant bass and Tom Morello does a great job. My only grudge is that he uses a lot of effects which can take away from a brilliant guitarist. Anyway, here's a few others by these guys that I'm obsessing over

And unlike the times before
From yesterday comes tomorrow
When life comes alive the past moves aside
No regrets and no remorse
We have more than everything
More than man or machine
More than luck
More than fiction
Higher than any religion
----------------------------------------------------------------
This is one where the guitar certainly reminds me of Rage Against the Machine. It's called "One & The Same" . Again, Morello really goes nuts with the effects pedal but still. And there's a brilliant spot where the instruments cut out and you only have the drum and Cornell. Is good. I like

But just like blood and rain,
Love and pain are one and the same

In Case of Turbulence, Tuck Head Between Knees

2007-10-23T12:39:00.000-07:00

Where have I been? With head firmly tucked away trying to throw self into frenetic activity to avoid reflection. Why? Because it leaves me blue. So I take chicken approach – see object of misery coming your way, promptly change paths and ignore it. Problem is, it’s just as persistent.

So where indeed have I been? I am firmly in the middle of a job hunt. I am awaiting second round interviews with one of the largest hedge funds in the world, a really smart geek persons place that accepts 1 in 500 and is known for its secrecy. But I have to admit, I am very surprised at the quarters help comes from, the most unexpected places including via this blog...reading that last line and reflecting on some of the stuff I've written about, it's a little worrying that I haven't been labelled insane.

I am in the middle of a relationship that has it’s up’s and down and unfortunately today caught me on a down swing. This, like everything else, seems to be in flux.

I went and saw Fuerza Bruta at Union Square. It is the singularly most brilliant piece of art I have seen in the sense that
a. it doesn’t strive to be anything
b. it reminds me that essentially we are playful creatures
c. gives a sensory stimulus never experienced before, a new concept which, unlike say a new piece of music which essentially is still music (a concept) which is delightful.

I am still pondering the superficial viz getting into shape, footling about with the guitar which is simultaneously stimulating, delightful and incredibly frustrating to the point where I have calluses but am fascinated with them and still getting frustrated over the misery one set of humans can inflict on another, be it Iraq or Burma and deciding that economic strata will always lead to a pyramid and that’s one of the characteristics of a capitalist society.
While this may not be a great revelation to anyone, it was interesting to me because it’s a conclusion I reached on my own based on observation. So there

I also took a course in photography which has simultaneously given me new interest in looking at pictures online (thank you StumbleUpon) and think of myself, rather misguidedly, as the next Sam Abell.
But, I have discovered I really like Palani Mohan and also can go beyond Ansel Adams being the extent of my knowledge of photographers.

I also went sky divvying which is the most intense thing I have ever done. It was tandem and it’s the closest I have been strapped to a guy. My guy happened to be Scottish and rather brusque which put a dampner on it. To ‘take the mickey out of me’, just before we jumped, he kissed the back of my neck. I was molested at 14,000 feet and I don’t want to talk about it.
The most terrifying moment is when you see your feet dangling over the edge, it seems a bit surreal when you look down and see you r hands holding on to the edge. But before your brain can send messages to your eyeballs telling them to bulge out cartoon style, the wind is sucked out of you given you are falling at 250km/h. Given the wind is screaming the land seems to be rather static. It’s true, 14,000 feet or 10,000 feet, you are a ways up and the ground looks the same.
There’s a SNAP and everything goes dead quiet. You do float down a lot slower than you thought and after a while look around and can’t help but grin.
I’m so going again, and I can’t wait

On a more terrifying and introspective front, I have realized that I have made a mistake in how I deal with things. Again, this seems an anticlimactic statement but you know what, it still scares me.
The problem can me summarized as such:
An email to the ex: I hope you are okay given the flames in San Diego
Reply: Yeah, but I keep bursting into tears knowing I’m not going home for a while. You know how that feels!
Me: Well, you have your new family to look forward to. Besides, mine was much worse given I ended up with depression, visiting a shrink and on Prozac. Not that I told my folks
(And I never told her until now…)
Reply: Well, I’ll learn from your mistakes
…?!
I was hoping for more of a reaction than that.

Now, the thing with the Sasquatch (yeah, I call her that out of affection and go giggle somewhere else…I do mushy things once in a while and I can spin them any which way I want), the problem is she reads me like an open book and even if she says something that dregs up unwanted memories, my voice changes imperceptibly, even to me but she sees that and digs deeper.

I’m so NOT used to this. And of course I squirm because having someone probe into these unpleasant things reminds me of them. Of course, in her own sage way she advises that I dredge them up, face them and put them to rest. Well kiddo, I’ve been hiding them for about eight years now, suppressing them and locking them away. I didn’t think I’d have to revisit them and certainly not have someone walk around, find a chest, sit on it, tap their well manicured nails and ask me what’s in it. It’s the equivalent of me trying to throw a sheet on it and call it a rustic dining table but you see right through it.

And I’m still not used to it. My reflex is to get defensive and turn on the other person for finding it. The truth is it’s been buried for so long now, I didn’t think I’d have to deal with it. Anyway, I shall have to grapple with it as I go along.

Oh and I bought an iTouch which gives me a metaphorical geek boner. I am also obsessed with Audioslave, namely Be Yourself, Yesterday to Tomorrow, Dandelion, One and the Same, Sound of a Gun, Original Fire.
Also, the one song that can really really have me calm down right now is Ganja Babe by Spearhead, associations not withstanding. Go listen. Also, go see pictures

2007-09-24T16:43:00.001-07:00

Hear ye hear ye
I now announce a grand cash reward, amortizable in accordance with my pay if someone can find me a fucking job.
Yes, I have been on it for 6 weeks which is an insignificant amount of time compared with the 4 months I spent in school. But still, the stress I take on remains unabated.

Of course, the inherent issue is to destress myself. And I know things don't come easy and things that are worth it take time and effort and all the other pithy comments you like thrown in for good measure.

But here's the thing, this is one of two steps in what I think will make me happy. I'm looking for a job that will never let me get bored and I will grow into big heap chief, one that never makes me feel, "I'm done, I'm out, adios"
This does raise the bigger question and if you extrapolate the sentiment, it applies to everything, the kind of friends, the intimate relationships, retroactively wishing the same for your childhood. And yes, I know, if that were the case, a person wouldn't grow and yes, the same pithy, to grow you have to make your way through pitfalls, dust yourself off and get back on it. And yes, I said the same of broken hearts.

But hey, if you throw the dog a bone, he wont complain, honest injun.

I feel like bursting out of my skin again. And I've been trying to bring the highs and lows closer to the flat line. But I really want to scream and vent right now. I want to sink my teeth into something and not let go.

...

okay, time to reel it in, and get back to working on this freaking job hunt.

But as much as I try and fill in the white space, the silences and the quest moments, I can't help but wish that it were contentment that filled the white noise and hope that that indeed is the case and this job search is just one step closer to that.
I've had moments of it, absolute peace and I won't elaborate where or when at the sake of being dramatic, but in just saying that, I've given it away
:o)

Yeah, I'm being mysterious and such like but I'm sure the meaning has been extracted.

Skim over that part, you didn't miss anything, is the tiniest smile on my lips as I know what I mean.

I could talk about more important things like my outrage at the fact that people were against Ahmedinejad speaking at Columbia, at Blackwater and their training program, how Pratreus is full of shit, Bill Maher finally said something I don't agree with.
But right now, all I want to do is looking for a job.

Get the Picture?

2007-09-06T08:11:00.001-07:00

Had to Post the Minute I Read it

2007-09-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

http://www.esquire.com/print-this/honesty0707?x

I Think You're Fat

This story is about something called Radical Honesty. It may change your life. (But honestly, we don't really care.)
This story is about something called Radical Honesty. It may change your life. (But honestly, we don't really care.)

Here's the truth about why I'm writing this article:

I want to fulfill my contract with my boss. I want to avoid getting fired. I want all the attractive women I knew in high school and college to read it. I want them to be amazed and impressed and feel a vague regret over their decision not to have sex with me, and maybe if I get divorced or become a widower, I can have sex with them someday at a reunion. I want Hollywood to buy my article and turn it into a movie, even though they kind of already made the movie ten years ago with Jim Carrey. I want to get congratulatory e-mails and job offers that I can politely decline. Or accept if they're really good. Then get a generous counteroffer from my boss.

To be totally honest, I was sorry I mentioned this idea to my boss about three seconds after I opened my mouth. Because I knew the article would be a pain in the ass to pull off. Dammit. I should have let my colleague Tom Chiarella write it. But I didn't want to seem lazy.

What I mentioned to my boss was this: a movement called Radical Honesty.

The movement was founded by a sixty-six-year-old Virginia-based psychotherapist named Brad Blanton. He says everybody would be happier if we just stopped lying. Tell the truth, all the time. This would be radical enough -- a world without fibs -- but Blanton goes further. He says we should toss out the filters between our brains and our mouths. If you think it, say it. Confess to your boss your secret plans to start your own company. If you're having fantasies about your wife's sister, Blanton says to tell your wife and tell her sister. It's the only path to authentic relationships. It's the only way to smash through modernity's soul-deadening alienation. Oversharing? No such thing.

Yes. I know. One of the most idiotic ideas ever, right up there with Vanilla Coke and giving Phil Spector a gun permit. Deceit makes our world go round. Without lies, marriages would crumble, workers would be fired, egos would be shattered, governments would collapse.

And yet...maybe there's something to it. Especially for me. I have a lying problem. Mine aren't big lies. They aren't lies like "I cannot recall that crucial meeting from two months ago, Senator." Mine are little lies. White lies. Half-truths. The kind we all tell. But I tell dozens of them every day. "Yes, let's definitely get together soon." "I'd love to, but I have a touch of the stomach flu." "No, we can't buy a toy today -- the toy store is closed." It's bad. Maybe a couple of weeks of truth-immersion therapy would do me good.

I e-mail Blanton to ask if I can come down to Virginia and get some pointers before embarking on my Radical Honesty experiment. He writes back: "I appreciate you for apparently having a real interest and hope you're not just doing a cutesy little superficial dipshit job like most journalists."

I'm already nervous. I better start off with a clean slate. I confess I lied to him in my first e-mail -- that I haven't ordered all his books on Amazon yet. I was just trying to impress upon him that I was serious about his work. He writes back: "Thanks for your honesty in attempting to guess what your manipulative and self-protective motive must have been."

Blanton lives in a house he built himself, perched on a hill in the town of Stanley, Virginia, population 1,331. We're sitting on white chairs in a room with enormous windows and a crackling fireplace. He's swirling a glass of Maker's Mark bourbon and water and telling me why it's important to live with no lies.

"You'll have really bad times, you'll have really great times, but you'll contribute to other people because you haven't been dancing on eggshells your whole fucking life. It's a better life."

"Do you think it's ever okay to lie?" I ask.

"I advocate never lying in personal relationships. But if you have Anne Frank in your attic and a Nazi knocks on the door, lie....I lie to any government official." (Blanton's politics are just this side of Noam Chomsky's.) "I lie to the IRS. I always take more deductions than are justified. I lie in golf. And in poker."

Blanton adjusts his crotch. I expected him to be a bully. Or maybe a new-age huckster with a bead necklace who sits cross-legged on the floor. He's neither. He's a former Texan with a big belly and a big laugh and a big voice. He's got a bushy head of gray hair and a twang that makes his bye sound like bah. He calls himself "white trash with a Ph.D." If you mixed DNA from Lyndon Johnson, Ken Kesey, and threw in the nonannoying parts of Dr. Phil, you might get Blanton.

He ran for Congress twice, with the novel promise that he'd be an honest politician. In 2004, he got a surprising 25 percent of the vote in his Virginia district as an independent. In 2006, the Democrats considered endorsing him but got skittish about his weeklong workshops, which involve a day of total nudity. They also weren't crazy that he's been married five times (currently to a Swedish flight attendant twenty-six years his junior). He ran again but withdrew when it became clear he was going to be crushed.

My interview with Blanton is unlike any other I've had in fifteen years as a journalist. Usually, there's a fair amount of ass kissing and diplomacy. You approach the controversial stuff on tippy toes (the way Barbara Walters once asked Richard Gere about that terrible, terrible rumor). With Blanton, I can say anything that pops into my mind. In fact, it would be rude not to say it. I'd be insulting his life's work. It's my first taste of Radical Honesty, and it's liberating, exhilarating.

When Blanton rambles on about President Bush, I say, "You know, I stopped listening about a minute ago."

"Thanks for telling me," he says.

I tell him, "You look older than you do in the author photo for your book," and when he veers too far into therapyspeak, I say, "That just sounds like gobbledygook."

"Thanks," he replies." Or, "That's fine."

Blanton has a temper -- he threatened to "beat the shit" out of a newspaper editor during the campaign -- but it hasn't flared tonight. The closest he comes to attacking me is when he says I am self-indulgent and Esquire is pretentious. Both true.

Blanton pours himself another bourbon and water. He's got a wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek, and when he spits into the fireplace, the flames crackle louder.

"My boss says you sound like a dick," I say.

"Tell your boss he's a dick," he says.

"I'm glad you picked your nose just now," I say. "Because it was funny and disgusting, and it'll make a good detail for the article."

"That's fine. I'll pick my ass in a minute." Then he unleashes his deep Texan laugh: heh, heh, heh. (He also burps and farts throughout our conversation; he believes the one-cheek sneak is "a little deceitful.")

No topic is off-limits. "I've slept with more than five hundred women and about a half dozen men," he tells me. "I've had a whole bunch of threesomes" -- one of which involved a hermaphrodite prostitute equipped with dual organs.

What about animals?

Blanton thinks for a minute. "I let my dog lick my dick once."

If he hadn't devoted his life to Radical Honesty, I'd say he was, to use his own phrase, as full of shit as a Christmas turkey. But I don't think he is. I believe he's telling the truth. Which is a startling thing for a journalist to confront. Generally, I'm devoting 30 percent of my mental energy to figuring out what a source is lying about or hiding from me. Another 20 percent goes into scheming about how to unearth that buried truth. No need for that today.

"I was disappointed when I visited your office," I tell Blanton. (Earlier he had shown me a small, cluttered single-room office that serves as the Radical Honesty headquarters.) "I'm impressed by exteriors, so I would have been impressed by an office building in some city, not a room in Butt Fuck, Virginia. For my article, I want this to be a legitimate movement, not a fringe movement."

"What about a legitimate fringe movement?" asks Blanton, who has, by this time, had three bourbons.

Blanton's legitimate fringe movement is sizable but not huge. He's sold 175,000 books in eleven languages and has twenty-five trainers assisting in workshops and running practice groups around the country.

Now, my editor thinks I'm overreaching here and trying too hard to justify this article's existence, but I think society is speeding toward its own version of Radical Honesty. The truth of our lives is increasingly being exposed, both voluntarily (MySpace pages, transparent business transactions) and involuntarily. (See Gonzales and Google, or ask Alec Baldwin.) For better or worse, we may all soon be Brad Blantons. I need to be prepared. [Such bullshit. -- Ed.]

I return to New York and immediately set about delaying my experiment. When you're with Blanton, you think, Yes, I can do this! The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. But when I get back to bosses and fragile friendships, I continue my lying ways.

"How's Radical Honesty going?" my boss asks.

"It's okay," I lie. "A little slow."

A couple of weeks later, I finally get some inspiration from my friend's five-year-old daughter, Alison. We are in Central Park for a play date. Out of nowhere, Alison looks at me evenly and says, "Your teeth are yellow because you drink coffee all day."

Damn. Now that's some radical honesty for you. Maybe I should be more like a five-year-old. An hour later, she shows me her new pet bug -- a beetle of some sort that she has in her cupped hands.

"It's napping," she whispers.

I nudge the insect with my finger. It doesn't move. Should I play along? No. I should tell her the truth, like she told me about my teeth.

"It's not napping."

She looks confused.

"It's dead."

Alison runs to her father, dismayed. "Daddy, he just said a bad word."

I feel like an asshole. I frightened a five-year-old, probably out of revenge for an insult about my oral hygiene. I postpone again -- for a few more weeks. And then my boss tells me he needs the article for the July issue.

I start in again at dinner with my friend Brian. We are talking about his new living situation, and I decide to tell him the truth.

"You know, I forget your fiancée's name."

This is highly unacceptable -- they've been together for years; I've met her several times.

"It's Jenny."

In his book, Blanton talks about the thrill of total candor, the Space Mountain-worthy adrenaline rush you get from breaking taboos. As he writes, "You learn to like the excitement of mild, ongoing risk taking." This I felt.

Luckily, Brian doesn't seem too pissed. So I decide to push my luck. "Yes, that's right. Jenny. Well, I resent you for not inviting me to you and Jenny's wedding. I don't want to go, since it's in Vermont, but I wanted to be invited."

"Well, I resent you for not being invited to your wedding."

"You weren't invited? Really? I thought I had."

"Nope."

"Sorry, man. That was a mistake."

A breakthrough! We are communicating! Blanton is right. Brian and I crushed some eggshells. We are not stoic, emotionless men. I'm enjoying this. A little bracing honesty can be a mood booster.

The next day, we get a visit from my wife's dad and stepmom.

"Did you get the birthday gift I sent you?" asks her stepmom.

"Uh-huh," I say.

She sent me a gift certificate to Saks Fifth Avenue.

"And? Did you like it?"

"Not really. I don't like gift certificates. It's like you're giving me an errand to run."

"Well, uh . . ."

Once again, I felt the thrill of inappropriate candor. And I felt something else, too. The paradoxical joy of being free from choice. I had no choice but to tell the truth. I didn't have to rack my brain figuring out how to hedge it, spin it, massage it.

"Just being honest," I shrug. Nice touch, I decide; helps take the edge off. She's got a thick skin. She'll be okay. And I'll tell you this: I'll never get a damn gift certificate from her again.

I still tell plenty of lies every day, but by the end of the week I've slashed the total by at least 40 percent. Still, the giddiness is wearing off. A life of radical honesty is filled with a hundred confrontations every day. Small, but they're relentless.

"Yes, I'll come to your office, but I resent you for making me travel."

"My boss said I should invite you to this meeting, although it wouldn't have occurred to me to do so."

"I have nothing else to say to you. I have run out of conversation."

My wife tells me a story about switching operating systems on her computer. In the middle, I have to go help our son with something, then forget to come back.

"Do you want to hear the end of the story or not?" she asks.

"Well...is there a payoff?"

"Fuck you."

It would have been a lot easier to have kept my mouth closed and listened to her. It reminds me of an issue I raised with Blanton: Why make waves? "Ninety percent of the time I love my wife," I told him. "And 10 percent of the time I hate her. Why should I hurt her feelings that 10 percent of the time? Why not just wait until that phase passes and I return to the true feeling, which is that I love her?"

Blanton's response: "Because you're a manipulative, lying son of a bitch."

Okay, he's right. It's manipulative and patronizing to shut up and listen. But it's exhausting not to.

One other thing is also becoming apparent: There's a fine line between radical honesty and creepiness. Or actually no line at all. It's simple logic: Men think about sex every three minutes, as the scientists at Redbook remind us. If you speak whatever's on your mind, you'll be talking about sex every three minutes.

I have a business breakfast with an editor from Rachael Ray's magazine. As we're sitting together, I tell her that I remember what she wore the first time we met -- a black shirt that revealed her shoulders in a provocative way. I say that I'd try to sleep with her if I were single. I confess to her that I just attempted (unsuccessfully) to look down her shirt during breakfast.

She smiles. Though I do notice she leans back farther in her seat.

The thing is, the separate cubbyholes of my personality are merging. Usually, there's a professional self, a home self, a friend self, a with-the-guys self. Now, it's one big improper mess. This woman and I have either taken a step forward in our relationship, or she'll never return my calls again.

When I get home, I keep the momentum going. I call a friend to say that I fantasize about his wife. (He says he likes my wife, too, and suggests a key party.)

I inform our twenty-seven-year-old nanny that "if my wife left me, I would ask you out on a date, because I think you are stunning."

She laughs. Nervously.

"I think that makes you uncomfortable, so I won't mention it again. It was just on my mind."

Now I've made my own skin crawl. I feel like I should just buy a trench coat and start lurking around subway platforms. Blanton says he doesn't believe sex talk in the workplace counts as sexual harassment -- it's tight-assed society's fault if people can't handle the truth -- but my nanny confession just feels like pure abuse of power.

All this lasciviousness might be more palatable if I were a single man. In fact, I have a theory: I think Blanton devised Radical Honesty partly as a way to pick up women. It's a brilliant strategy. The antithesis of mind games. Transparent mating.

And according to Blanton, it's effective. He tells me about a woman he once met on a Paris subway and asked out for tea. When they sat down, he said, "I didn't really want any tea; I was just trying to figure out a way to delay you so I could talk to you for a while, because I want to go to bed with you." They went to bed together. Or another seduction technique of his: "Wanna fuck?"

"That works?" I asked.

"Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but it's the creation of possibility."

I lied today. A retired man from New Hampshire -- a friend of a friend -- wrote some poems and sent them to me. His wife just died, and he's taken up poetry. He just wanted someone in publishing to read his work. A professional opinion.

I read them. I didn't like them much, but I wrote to him that I thought they were very good.

So I e-mail Blanton for the first time since our meeting and confess what I did. I write, "His wife just died, he doesn't have friends. He's kind of pathetic. I read his stuff, or skimmed it actually. I didn't like it. I thought it was boring and badly written. So I e-mailed a lie. I said I really like the poems and hope they get published. He wrote me back so excited and how it made his week and how he was about to give up on them but my e-mail gave him the stamina to keep trying."

I ask Blanton whether I made a mistake.

He responds curtly. I need to come to his eight-day workshop to "even begin to get what [Radical Honesty] is about." He says we need to meet in person.

Meet in person? Did he toss down so many bourbons I vanished from his memory? I tell him we did meet.

Blanton writes back testily that he remembers. But I still need to take a workshop (price tag: $2,800). His only advice on my quandary: "Send the man the e-mail you sent me about lying to him and ask him to call you when he gets it...and see what you learn."

Show him the e-mail? Are you kidding? What a hardcore bastard.

In his book, Radical Honesty, Blanton advises us to start sentences with the words "I resent you for" or "I appreciate you for." So I write him back.

"I resent you for being so different in these e-mails than you were when we met. You were friendly and engaging and encouraging when we met. Now you seem to have turned judgmental and tough. I resent you for giving me the advice to break that old man's heart by telling him that his poems suck."

Blanton responds quickly. First, he doesn't like that I expressed my resentment by e-mail. I should have come to see him. "What you don't seem to get yet, A.J., is that the reason for expressing resentment directly and in person is so that you can experience in your body the sensations that occur when you express the resentment, while at the same time being in the presence of the person you resent, and so you can stay with them until the sensations arise and recede and then get back to neutral -- which is what forgiveness is."

Second, he tells me that telling the old man the truth would be compassionate, showing the "authentic caring underneath your usual intellectual bullshit and overvaluing of your critical judgment. Your lie is not useful to him. In fact, it is simply avoiding your responsibility as one human being to another. That's okay. It happens all the time. It is not a mortal sin. But don't bullshit yourself about it being kind."

He ends with this: "I don't want to spend a lot of time explaining things to you for your cute little project of playing with telling the truth if you don't have the balls to try it."

Condescending prick.

I know my e-mail to the old man was wrong. I shouldn't have been so rah-rah effusive. But here, I've hit the outer limit of Radical Honesty, a hard wall. I can't trash the old man.

I try to understand Blanton's point about compassion. To most of us, honesty often means cruelty.

But to Blanton, honesty and compassion are the ones in sync. It's an intriguing way to look at the world, but I just don't buy it in the case of the widower poet. Screw Blanton. (By the way: I broke Radical Honesty and changed the identifying details of the old-man story so as not to humiliate him. Also, I've messed a bit with the timeline of events to simplify things. Sorry.)

To compensate for my wimpiness, I decide to toughen up. Which is probably the exact wrong thing to do. Today, I'm getting a haircut, and my barber is telling me he doesn't want his wife to get pregnant because she'll get too fat (a bit of radical honesty of his own), and I say, "You know, I'm tired. I have a cold. I don't want to talk anymore. I want to read."

"Okay," he says, wielding his scissors, "go ahead and read."

Later, I do the same thing with my in-laws when they're yapping on about preschools. "I'm bored," I announce. "I'll be back later." And with that, I leave the living room.

I tell Blanton, hoping for his approval. Did anything come of it? he asks. Any discussions and insights? Hmmm.

He's right. If you're going to be a schmuck, at least you should find some redeeming quality in it. Blanton's a master of this. One of his tricks is to say things with such glee and enthusiasm, it's hard to get too pissed. "You may be a petty asshole," he says, "but at least you're not a secret petty asshole." Then he'll laugh.

I have yet to learn that trick myself. Consider how I handled this scene at a diner a couple of blocks from my apartment.

"Everything okay?" asked our server, an Asian man with tattoos.

"Yeah, except for the coffee. I always have to order espresso here, because the espresso tastes like regular coffee. The regular coffee here is terrible. Can't you guys make stronger coffee?"

The waiter said no and walked away. My friend looked at me. "I'm embarrassed for you," he said. "And I'm embarrassed to be around you."

"I know. Me, too." I felt like a Hollywood producer who parks in handicapped spots. I ask Blanton what I should have done.

"You should have said, 'This coffee tastes like shit!' " he says, cackling.

I will say this: One of the best parts of Radical Honesty is that I'm saving a whole lot of time. It's a cut-to-the-chase way to live. At work, I've been waiting for my boss to reply to a memo for ten days. So I write him: "I'm annoyed that you didn't respond to our memo earlier. But at the same time, I'm relieved, because then if we don't nail one of the things you want, we can blame any delays on your lack of response."

Pressing send makes me nervous -- but the e-mail works. My boss responds: "I will endeavor to respond by tomorrow. Been gone from N.Y. for two weeks." It is borderline apologetic. I can push my power with my boss further than I thought.

Later, a friend of a friend wants to meet for a meal. I tell him I don't like leaving my house. "I agree to meet some people for lunch because I fear hurting their feelings if I don't. And in this terrifying age where everyone has a blog, I don't want to offend people, because then they'd write on their blogs what an asshole I am, and it would turn up in every Google search for the rest of my life."

He writes back: "Normally, I don't really like meeting editors anyway. Makes me ill to think about it, because I'm afraid of coming off like the idiot that, deep down, I suspect I am."

That's one thing I've noticed: When I am radically honest, people become radically honest themselves. I feel my resentment fade away. I like this guy. We have a good meeting.

In fact, all my relationships can take a whole lot more truth than I expected. Consider this one: For years, I've had a chronic problem where I refer to my wife, Julie, by my sister's name, Beryl. I always catch myself midway through and pretend it didn't happen. I've never confessed to Julie. Why should I? It either means that I'm sexually attracted to my sister, which is not good. Or that I think of my wife as my sister, also not good.

But today, in the kitchen, when I have my standard mental sister-wife mix-up, I decide to tell Julie about it.

"That's strange," she says.

We talk about it. I feel unburdened, closer to my wife now that we share this quirky, slightly disturbing knowledge. I realize that by keeping it secret, I had given it way too much weight. I hope she feels the same way.

I call up Blanton one last time, to get his honest opinion about how I've done.

"I'm finishing my experiment," I say.

"You going to start lying again?" he asks.

"Hell yeah."

"Oh, shit. It didn't work."

"But I'm going to lie less than I did before."

I tell him about my confession to Julie that I sometimes want to call her Beryl. "No big deal," says Blanton. "People in other cultures have sex with their sisters all the time."

I bring up the episode about telling the editor from Rachael Ray's magazine that I tried to look down her shirt, but he sounds disappointed. "Did you tell your wife?" he asks. "That's the good part."

Finally, I describe to him how I told Julie that I didn't care to hear the end of her story about fixing her computer. Blanton asks how she responded.

"She said, 'Fuck you.' "

"That's good!" Blanton says. "I like that. That's communicating."

Find this article at: http://www.esquire.com/features/honesty0707

2007-09-03T17:17:00.000-07:00

Angst, Mush and Music

2007-09-03T14:40:00.001-07:00

Where does the angst come from? It's still here at times and it still manifests just behind the shoulder and the back of my neck, taught and tense, threatening to break out.

Is it from wanting everything to be perfect while grappling with the idea that most things are not under my control?
Or perhaps from struggling with the fact that every point is to do with another point in the future, with the niggling fear that that point may never come. It's happened before.

Does that mean being happy now? How when everything I want won't come until I am installed in another city?
This is a wonderful City, but it's incomplete and I've always felt incongruous. So where do I sleep at night?

Perhaps the cause is wanting to be everything I want to and knowing that I can but it'll take time. I suppose patience keeps it under check.

I know I am very happy with who I am. But there's so much more I can do, so much I want to.
----------------

I think I also figured what it means to be in an adult relationship. It's none of that mindfucking and watching every step that I used to have. It's not having to think of the "right" thing to say. It just is. It is right?
:o)
So we do fight and as much as she wishes we didn't, we do. And I suppose that's what it has taken for me to reach the conclusion up there (no pun intended).
I haven't really known anyone as feisty as her. And it does make me laugh in an affectionate way. Right too mushy? Well consider the fact that this is more for me than anyone else. Right and also, I havent really trumpeted why I like her here nor have I waxed mushy so be thankful for that. I am as capable of being overtly dramatic about the woes as I am the good stuff. But will spare you the details. Though I think she'd like to know what I'd write here about her if I did write about her here (how much wood could a woodchuck chuck....?)

The idea of moving scared the bloody day lights out of me. New city, new job, new relationship. Whatever happened to old being gold or not changing horses midstream (or counter with variety is the spice of life dear god when did I swallow a thesaurus of pithy?)

I havent met anyone who has gotten under my skin as fast as she has. It has been disconcerting and I haven't made it easy for her. But I'm dying to lie on a couch with her, watching movies, watching her watch movies (oh dear god, I"m getting sappier by the day...gaaah...right, all that I need now is the Westchester wardrobe and I will fit into a catalogue)

---------------

I need to learn to destress and soon. It's really going to wreak havoc otherwise. I shouldn't need someone to whack me on the forehead with a brick at times and I'm sorry that she has to but I'm so glad she does.

Now, go listen to:
* Mistaken for strangers by The National
* Crane Wife 3 by The Decemberists
* Yankee Bayonet by The Decemberists

Also, the guitar in Given in to me by Michael Jackson (dear lord, people used to call him Whacko Jacko (shudder).
It still amazes me

Girl Doublespeak

2007-08-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

“Why can’t you be honest and be nice at the same time?”

…

I don’t mean to be sexist but only a woman could say that. Right so me, I seem to be vacillating between two different approaches. The past dictated that well, I be a bit sensitive and notice when she got her hair done and just generally be enthused about new clothes and I guess, avoid making her face fall (and it really used to, way down until here to poor girl) if I didn’t like the same stuff. So unfortunately I suffer from blowback.

Now, the ShortOne (I’m bored with this moniker but more tired than bored to actually change it right now) prefers if I am honest.

…

Guys just want a woman’s opinion, for better or for worse. Now, I mean if you buy something new and in style and I think its hideous, well, can I say as much? Okay, all women who have asked for an opinion, heard something contrary to what they hold and felt bad about it, stand up and admit it. Then admit to the fact that you confuse me.

“Do you like this?”

“No, I don’t”

“Okay”

Brilliant!!

So okay and admit it, when you have a new boy friend, you want your friends opinions on him but at the same time you want them to like him.

…

Well then well… I mean…(words wont cut it so all I have to say is)

?!!

------------------------

There seem to be grey clouds (would the clichéd Chinese accent read ‘crowds’?...I’m tired, I have ADD) brewing in lovers land. At least for me, dunno about the rest of you.

I figure long distance is hard (duhhhhhhhh)

The thing is, it’s hard to really get under someones skin when well, their hide is a couple of thousand miles away. You don’t realize how much of a difference it makes to have the person around, to come home tired and rather than wait to make the phone call you wait for and realize nothing of any consequence has happened and narrate absolutely nothing, silence seems to grow larger when both of you are on the phone.

Okay, I should have thought that through before spouting truisms.

When in person, I can *be* with her. I can drape myself on her person and just vegetate and think and make off color sounds.

But take the flip side of that, come home tired and sit and just hang out, no calling card bills, no holding on to the phone as you walk about the house trying to fill the silence in it with the tinny on the phone… it ain’t the same.

And I effing hate it.

Work in Progress. Both, the Author and the Post

2007-08-27T15:15:00.000-07:00

Right
(lick the end of the pencil)
(stick tongue out)
(adopt thinking position, not to be confused with constipated look even though visually may be the same)

I am in a job that requires ADD. C calls for me while R is emailing me with work while I listen to a conference call while keeping an eye on Bloomberg.
Have you seen ‘Coupling’? Specifically the episode where Patrick keeps trying to go home after canoodling with his girlfriend and refers to a woman who want to snuggle after squelching as a ‘hairy sex octopus with hair and limbs everywhere’?
Right, so this is what is demanded of me. Without the sex bit.
But I am a sexy beast y’know (just throwing out another movie reference, 10 points if you get it)

Another thing I don’t understand is with you i-bankers, how come your models never seem to add up. There’s always one wise ass who has something funky in historicals.

Work had been butchering me over the course of the past three weeks including putting in 12 hours over a weekend when the parental units were in town. Any how, pictures to follow later…

But I think my company does owe me two new shirts. Mine have frayed at the elbows. I’ve never heard of anything like this but it’s ridiculous. Does this in any way tie in to ‘elbow grease’?

Right, so that’s that on the work front. I am trying desperately to get back to India so if any one knows of any openings in private equity or hedge fund, you have a willing grunt here, ready to sacrifice much sleep, sweat and tears to make you money. Yes, I am a sell out and damn proud of it. Now, if they would just give me a t-shirt that says the same (looks around for t-shirt…or cookie)

-----------

I skyped with the Ex a few days ago. We made small talk until she blurted out, “I got engaged”
Much appropriate felicitations were given (I can’t stop talking like this, I don’t know why).
While she said she picked out the ring, she expressed a concern that some people may think it too small.
I am always polite but I draw the line at making her feel better about the size of the ring that chappie gave her.
And last weekend she said she would be moving to San Diego (oh come, what the hell do you do in San Diego for petes sake…and who is pete?! Goddamnit, I’m rather floopy today, but I’m back baby!)
Right, so she asked if I would visit her and her fiancé in San Diego:
“You want me, to visit you, at his apartment?”
“Actually, we are staying with his parents”
…..
Right

Anyway, as much as I loved the girl, ‘twas what ‘twas, and never more it shall be.

Though I have to say, the age difference between her and me (if you don’t know what it is, ask…just to ping y’all and see who is curious) was thrown sharply into relief. Look, I will grow up when I have to. I’m still this age and I still want to have fun. Unlike two years ago, I can think about getting married but it still is some point in the future.
She’s going to get engaged engaged in November, move to the US in October…I think we are different levels and it’s a disconnect I can’t fathom

-----------

I was in need of a well deserved holiday so I did just that. I took the camera and set off to the Met.
My new favorite artist is Paul Signac.
At least I think it is. Or okay, it’s whoever did this piece:

For the bloody life of me, I can’t figure out who did it. If you know, the please tell me and you can have my first born (though I get all rights to call you Rumpelstiltskin forevermore)

Ah yes, then had a rather interesting red wine with cheese at the Met while the pianist played and I looked down on the people with a beatific smile albeit on a large table much to myself.

There’s a lot more to say on the pieces that I loved but will make a separate post on that

-----------

I have been vacillating lately between contentment (see lines above), happiness (under the influence of a rather deep red wine) and an oogy feeling.
I am in need of guilt free guilty indulgences. No Shorty, I don’t mean no-strings sex…(this is where I pause to debate if I wish to elaborate on the topic of bumping uglies and decide against it)
But for instance, I want to get really really pissed without wondering if I will hit on anyone, stumble through the sodden streets of the City, end up worshiping the great Porcelain God (which I havent done in a very long time) or boomed until I can move no mo’
I think it’s the oogy feeling, the restlessness that never left, just abated but washed over me again, inevitable. And I think I may have figured it out.
So you know how the Tolle’s and Dr. Phils say live for the “now” and all that mumbo-jumbo. Right, so what if I have spent every single day for the past 4-5 years trying to get to a point, in fact to such a degree that that point died out a long time ago? So where does that leave me now? And this job-hunt and trying to get back to India, well, I’m doing it again, risking it again for a future that may not even exist.
Oh yes, I totally hear you, but am I going to change that? No, I guess not. I mean it’s hard trying to get there, scrabbling every day and worrying every night. And of course, the inevitable doubt will it be the way I imagined it, as perfect?

Who knows, and what’s more, worrying about it, that isn’t getting me there

But yet, coming back to the first thought, I am in need of excess. As Tom Waits so eloquently put it, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy”

-----------

Go watch Simpsons
It’s brilliant. Everything from Homer’s plaintive, “Homer do good?” to SpiderPig, all of it, brilliant. If you disagree, come back and we can discuss it in a civil way.
Then, I will jump you in the parking alley and bitch slap you and run away while saying “ha ha” Nelson style

-----------

I’m an ass and no woman should date me. Just sleep with me.

Her: i think im snappy because i miss you

me: so you say. Humph. i have reached the conclusion that this is some sort of setup and you are out to trap me. i dunno what your game is, but i see right through it
so there!
i'll give you this, it is a ploy worthy of moriarty but unlike holmes, i do not intend to go over a cliff

hello?

Her: im here
sorry
my sister is watching freaky friday

me: !!
(a bit flustered at having his damning accusation fall on deaf ears)

Her: and i have a headache

Really, I should have come with a warning label stuck to my ass when I came shooting out. I bet I was a wise ass even then and pee’d the doctor who smacked my bottom to get me to cry. Bitch

-----------
Things to look forward to:
1. US Open match tomorrow for free (few few perks of a job that damns me to 14-16 hour days)
2. US Semi-Finals, Mens (not free. Fuck)
3. Four days off this week given it’s Labor Day (ironic given I work at a job that made me sign a waiver giving up my right to a maximum hours per week of work)
4. ….

Come on, add to my list

Things to fear:
1. folks being in town for those four days which means I can’t sulk or be a bitch. It also means giving up the ciggies and maal and no drunken debauchery that would have inevitably resulted thanks to this 4 day vacation
2. finding a job and soon else my head will pop off from the tension
3. cleaning my apartment, to the Mother’s standards
4. going back to the gym after torturing myself yesterday

The Whiniest post ever. but i needed this. so. f.u.

2007-08-23T15:23:00.000-07:00

Right, so deal with it. This is where I bitch, moan, whine, squeal, say “shit piss fuck”, deal with it, don’t like it? Well go chance the bloody channel then why don’t you.

I’m FRUSTRATED! 16 hour days, a job that is pissing me off, trying to move to India, everyone telling me I have an exciting resume and still no luck there, no personal space coz my folks ( both of whom I love) are visiting, haven’t worked out, am tired and just fucking pissed the hell off so fuck you.

Plus I feel like I’m shit at relationships. I don’t know why the urgency to spill each time I talk, I guess it’s because you never know when the person will leave, when they decide they don’t want you any more thank-you-very-much.

I guess it’s that. At the end of a mini melt down, when all you can do is sit in the shower and hear the water splashing, trying to consciously relax the muscled, deep down, I’m concerned about how I relate to other people. Oh sure I can be all social and amicable, but am I someone heck I’d want to be with? I mean okay fine, call me effing self indulgent right now and

……………

Fine, I know I am being self-indulgent. But there are a few things that honestly scare me. They really do and it makes me nauseous to think about them:
1. I am shit at really opening up
2. I have no short term memory which trust me, is a lot worse than it sounds when you remember the bigger picture but smaller details get lost
3. …..

I cant think!!!
Its like a million other things swirling about in my head…..each effing thought stumbling over the other, I cant stop any of them

I need a smoke.

------------------------

Fine, I love her. I really do. And it’s things like during lunch………….FUCK!
I cant seem to think or stop thinking any more. Where’s the goddamn off switch

Okay. Let me try this one more time.
I’m tense to the point my jaw hurts.
Why am I tense?
1. I have had a horrible two weeks at work with 14 hour days. My folks were in town and I still put in 12 hours over the weekend
2. I hate this job.
3. I am trying to move to India or some place closer. Head hunters seem to love my resume but wont email back. Each time I get a new email, I can barely contain my excitement to see if it’s from one of them
4. I try desperately to make time to talk, to be in touch as much as possible to not repeat my mistakes. But then the quality suffers and im trying to navigate foot traffic with one eye on the clock while trying to order lunch and make sure I get back in time to not get yelled at.

It’s like if I concentrate on one thing, I drop the ball somewhere else. And it’s always trying to juggle so many things at once it makes me grit my effing teeth in my sleep. I need a fucking sock stuffed in my mouth when I sleep.

I’m trying to make something of nothing and it’s so goddamn frustrating and I try and keep cool about it.
And in the end, I wonder if it’s really me. I’m terrified it’s always been me.

I’m sorry to my folks for not spending enough time with them. I’m sorry that I can’t seem to make headway with this job thing. I’m sorry if you didn’t know the girl I love. I’m sorry I don’t have enough time for you. I’m disappointed I didn’t do as well as I should have on that exam. I’m disappointed I can’t speak with you as much as you deserve. It’s this awful lump at not being able to do what I want, to give what I so badly want to because of things that I cant control. But even those, I’m trying, I’m working on, I will give up a lot and I already have for this and I will cuss and fight and scrabble to make it happen and I’m sorry if I drop the ball in another part. It’s this awful tiredness of swimming against the fucking tide. It’s this awful silence when I wonder if there’s something more I can do.

It’s wanting to reach behind and rip the skin off and throw my head back and scream because I am so goddamn frustrated.

What * I * want:
I want to be with her. I want to have a job that challenges me and lets me think. I want to make money so I don’t go wanting again.
Right, so I’m working on all three the best I fucking can. But there are so many other people involved in this.
--------------

Oh lord, that felt good. I feel drained but I let it out at least. I have several flaws as mother dearest pointed out, not each one, just the blanket statement.
I have much to work on. I just hope I don’t hear, “It’s too late” again.

More to write. Much much more to write.

Art 101

2007-07-26T06:18:00.000-07:00

In her short film Mona Lisa Descending a Staircase, Joan C. Gratz has managed to map out a century’s worth of art in seven minutes. She uses clay painting, a stop-motion animation technique that she pioneered, to morph fluidly among the works of 35 iconic, modern artists from van Gogh to Picasso to Warhol.

The film, which won the 1993 Academy Award for Best Animated Short, confounds through the ease with which one recognizable piece of art seamlessly dissolves into the next. The implausible is made to look inevitable.

My Stupid Memory

2007-07-18T10:55:00.000-07:00

Ah, one phone call and I remember why I don’t want to be bounced around, why I want to go where I want to go and why it’s one worth it.

While I don’t know how it ends, I know I’m doing as much as I can

Of Thunderclouds and Old Songs

2007-07-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

It’s a sudden disconnect and I can’t figure out why. It’s the same feeling you get when the headphone cord gets stuck on something and is rudely yanked out and the music stops with a snap, the rude shock of abruptness

It’s this feeling of wanting to stretch your arms up and hang by them, feeling every muscle get pulled.

Or maybe it’s just the weather, just this song.

I think I’m just a bit weary what with this exam in a month, the burgeoning job hunt (which albeit has been going on for three days now but on my mind for what, 7 months?)

The feeling finds manifestation in short shallow breaths, the kind where the cold air doesn’t seem to get past your throat, in restlessness as you try and sleep and wait for the next City sound to come through, when you pick at the strings, sitting on the bed, all the while waiting for the door to open and for something to happen.

It’s the same streets every day, always moving and never changing, always the same shapes and sound every single day.

It’s wanting to throw your head back and scream but not doing that because it will change the street and bring in something extraordinary.

It wanting something different but wanting it to come along without you having to rock the boat.

And then you sit on the rock, the sky gets a grey pall and you get bored of waiting but still sit and mull about it. Of course, this is all wanting to be swept away by events that you have no control over but sweep your life away. So if mistakes are made, it isn’t your fault.

When you proactively change it, you assume responsibility for the end result and in the end, can’t lift a finger against anything or anyone but yourself.

And with taking action on your own comes the weariness of making things happen.

I don’t want to coast along in life (such a delightful use of the word, of Jimmy Dean and ‘dragging Main’, past the ‘dime store’, ‘he was coasting in the Cadillac’)

But it would be nice to cut loose and shoot the moon, go with the breeze, stretch!

The sad part is, I know if I went off to “old Algiers”, the feeling of what next would return, like a slow shadow, playing catch up a few moments later, catching the next train up to me.

It’s time for change and if the wind’s don’t change on their own, well, I’ll find my own way.

As Good As It Gets

2007-07-10T16:27:00.001-07:00

The guy in the patent white shirt of Mid-Town swaggers to the counter, carelessly tossing his hair 'product' and with a flourish pulls out the card, his iPod up so loud he can't hear the sullen faced cashier asking him to swipe it.
The blonde in the typical white summer dress fumbles with her half caff (rhyme half with caff to get it right) soy mocchachino and her pocketbook while reaching for the Trident. Of course, it wouldnt occur to her to move everything to one side while collecting her things to make way for the guy in the cheap shirt, the back damp with sweat who is in a hurry. Of course, she does notice when I side step her, a dirty look but I couldn't care less.

The other suit at the subway turnstile, unmindful of the approaching train or the people behind him who want to get on it lest the MTA in its infinite wisdom decides for a 20 minute delay before the next train gets there. Even when they walk down the stairs, it's on the wrong side and with a casual step that puts him in place in the Hamptons, never mind the lady struggling with her groceries looking fervently at the goddamn doors that slide shut leaving her to wait in the heat for another train. Of course, his pulls up soon after.

People stumble in. There's more than enough place toward the middle of the train but instead, you have shoulders pounded by the sliding doors of the fucking train, hands held up high in the Laughing Buddha, trying desperately to press against the roof of the carriage so as to not to fall over. Never mind touching the Brooks Brothers suits or pressing up against the Pierre Cardin ties (Hermes would never be in the subway), people stuck on the subway because others can't lift their heads or realize that a side step could make way for another person, someone who just may be in a tearing hurry to get home or the night shift.

Sullen faces of women with manicured hands grasping the metal pole, almost appropriate if karma had its way, sullen over the fact they can't sit, almost as though the make up on their face and the blond treated locks warrant space, air conditioning and service in the subway to use their TMobile Sidekick.

You get out of the subway and face two sets of stairs. People run down one flight because the train has pulled up and it's the one they need to be on. The rest seem to trudge up, unmindful of the fact they may be on the wrong set of stairs, a flash of irritation if someone else is coming down instead of going their way.

The sense of entitlement, to space, to their way, is stifling, it's as though there is nothing left beyond their bubble. And when you take enough of these bobble headed bubble carrying people, you are always impinging on their apparent illusion of control.

The purposeless life, the motions, the pink shirt and backward baseball cap, the stressed denim jeans and the brown sandals, the well manicured fingers gripping designer bags whose price while may be sky high, is less boggling than the sense of entitlement as those fingers wrap around the straps, the sunglasses worn in the subway, the white wedding, the picket fence, holidays in Vermont and the circle of life repeats itself, all the while the bubble remains, of an individual, of a society.

No wonder Jay Leno can walk down the street with a map and have people pin a label saying "Iraq" on Australia.

For just one moment, to take that sense of entitlement and put in perspective, the blonds down 5th Avenue, going into the Abercrombie and Fitch at 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday, knowing they aren't tourists from the disdain and upturned noses of faces sucking on lemons too long and too used table service, to take them and turn their world upside down.

To actually look at the person while thanking them, to smile at someone as you open the door for them instead of remembering mechanically it is what you are supposed to do, to actually offer your seat to someone, to walk a pace faster because a train has pulled up, unmindful if it is yours or not, to thank someone going out of their way for you. It's not that hard.

I suppose this vitriolic stems from a guy I saw while headed to lunch -- he had a sandwich board selling something or the other, face craggy, baseball cap pulled low, trying to get someone to take his flyers, the Blackberries and the Fendis passing him by. And I wondered where he came from, why he was where he was, where was he trying to get to. Would his answers put into perspective those of the white shirts of MidTown?

I run up the stairs to my place, two at a time. I walk in to my room, everything in it is mine, even the empty plate has the remains of a meal, but it is mine. Its and extension.
A quick phone call.
"Hmmm", replies the groggy voice.
And in that instance, all is forgotten and I slip into something I love.

55 Words to Bring Us Back to "Do"

2007-07-09T18:51:00.000-07:00

connection intimacy laughter tears insecurity barriers secrets lies arguments fear confusion hesitation trepidation angst frustration joy disappointment a touch a flushed face a quickened breath

A yellow taxi cab. A red light. Silence in the rush hour and throngs

"Will you go out with me then?"
"Yes"

And he was happy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Of cows, snake skins, laddoos and tulsi plants

2007-07-09T16:49:00.001-07:00

it was always exciting to go back to that house. the rickety fiat would pick us up and there would always be an issue fitting the suitcase in with the 'step'nie' amidst various other gizzards of the creaking car.
there would be that dusty ride that went through the main 'chowk' with 'mithaiwallas' and of course, past the white palace where the scindias still live. and i remember the beginning of the end of the ride, what with the gigantic naala, enough to swallow minetta brook and with the fetidness of gallons of waste. but i was always fascinated by the giang pigs that seemed quite unmindful of the trash of others, the piglets, nothing like 'poo mucking about, their skin not quite covered with grey bristles (issey toothbroosh baneinge as the guy delightfully told my mother in Jaipur when she saw the local Municipal fellows taking away an unfortunate porcine)
And we would turn left and go past the kinaray waali dukan, the ubiquitous one selling Nirma, Life Buoy (hai jahaan tanduroosti hai wahaan...life buoy!) but of course, it was the closest supplier of aam papad, the one my grandparents mistakenly assumed was one of my favorite things from gwalior, along with the basin kay laddoo. There was the temple with the awkward pattern of multi colored bathroom tiles to the right, where the pujarin was this ancient creature, not however, as old as my great grandmother. We would turn the right and come to the gate and with a flourish the driver would kill the engine and smile at us, almost triumphant we made it alive as though we would have the temerity to question his driving skills.
The gate was this menacing black and red contraption, with a smaller one built into it with devious springs ready to snap shut on a five year olds fingers and definitely lived up unto their sole purpose.
The courtyard always felt clean even though the plot opposite never had anything built on it and dust seemed to fly over the wall, irreverant of the cleanliness my grandmother was so particular about. But she would be at the doorway, panting from the effort but a huge smile nonetheless, her dentures putting my own gap toothed smile to shame. And there would be much hugging and touching of feet as blessings went all around.
The living room was almost magical to a kid. There were porcelain plates with Buddha on them, a mantle piece with pictures of people, some of whom I recognized, faces with fewer creases, more teeth and thicker hair. But they were sepia toned, faded edges in silver frames meticulously polished. There was a dried up seahorse mounted on the wall, above the deerskin cushion covers. There were books in Hindi, some of them by my grandfather. But of course, the only thing I would look out for was the giant lion skin on the carper, the head stuffed and carefully preserved, yellow glass eyes, you could peer into reflecting make your face, the mouth open in an unspoken roar, the tongue rough and its teeth yellow. And right between the eyes, almost Kipling like was a small hole, no bigger than my little finger, a small hole that led it from the jungle to the living room floor. I never quite got familiar with it, like my sister would later sit on its head holding on to its ears or reclining her head against his. I suppose much of the Jungle Book rubbed off on me and I never wanted to accept that the King of the Jungle would end up so.

The lights in the living room were anemic, yellow, heightened by the gaudy orange lamps, stylized vine leaves. But during the day, the room was dark and light streamed in from the other side, where, if you squinted, could see the main courtyard.

There is a Secret World Concealed Within this One.

2007-07-07T08:25:00.000-07:00

There is a Secret World Concealed Within this One.

The lives we lead, and the lives we wish we led.

This world, the so-called “real world,” is just a front. Pull back the curtain and you’ll see the libraries are all filled with runaways writing novels, the highways are humming with escapees and sympathizers, all the receptionists and sensible mothers are straining at the leash for a chance to show how alive they still are. . . and all that talk of practicality and responsibility is just threats and bluffing to keep us from reaching out our hands to find that heaven lies in reach before us.

You can taste it in the shock and roar of a first, unexpected kiss, or in the blood in your mouth that instant after an accident when you realize you’re still alive. It blows in the wind you feel on the rooftops of a really reckless night of adventure. You hear it in the magic of your favorite songs, how they lift and transport you in ways that no science or psychology could ever account for. It might be you’ve seen evidence of it scratched into bathroom walls in a code without a key, or you’ve been able to make out a pale reflection of it in the movies they make to keep us entertained. It’s in between the words when we speak of our desires and aspirations, still lurking somewhere beneath the limitations of being “practical” and “realistic.”

When poets and radicals stay up until sunrise, wracking their brains for the perfect sequence of words or deeds to fill hearts (or cities) with fire, they’re trying to find a hidden entrance to it. When children escape out the window to go wandering late at night, or freedom fighters search for a weakness in government fortifications, they’re trying to sneak into it—for they know better than us where the doors are hidden. When teenagers vandalize a billboard to provoke all-night chases with the police, or anarchists interrupt an orderly demonstration to smash the windows of a corporate chain store, they’re trying to storm its gates.

When you’re making love and you discover a new sensation or region of your lover’s body, and the two of you feel like explorers discovering a new part of the world on a par with a desert oasis or the coast of an unknown continent, as if you are the first ones to reach the north pole or the moon, you are charting its frontiers.

It’s not a safer place than this one—on the contrary, it is the sensation of danger there that brings us back to life: the feeling that for once, for one moment that seems to eclipse the past and future, there is something real at stake.

Maybe you stumbled into it by accident, once, amazed at what you found. The old world splintered behind and inside you, and no physician or metaphysician could put it back together again. Everything before became trivial, irrelevant, ridiculous as the horizons suddenly telescoped out around you and undreamt-of new paths offered themselves. And perhaps you swore that you would never return, that you would live out the rest of your life electrified by that urgency, in the thrill of discovery and transformation—but return you did.

Common sense dictates that this world can only be experienced temporarily, that it is just the shock of transition, and no more; but the myths we share around our fires tell a different story: we hear of women and men who stayed there for weeks, years, who never returned, who lived and died there as heroes. We know, because we feel it in that atavistic chamber of our hearts that holds the memory of freedom from a time before time, that this secret world is near, waiting for us. You can see it in the flash in our eyes, in the abandon of our dances and love affairs, in the protest or party that gets out of hand.

You’re not the only one trying to find it. We’re out here, too . . . some of us are even waiting there for you. And you should know that anything you’ve ever done or considered doing to get there is not crazy, but beautiful, noble, necessary.

Revolution is simply the idea we could enter that secret world and never return; or, better, that we could burn away this one, to reveal the one beneath entirely.

Figuring it out in NYC

There's no goddamn room outside

Oh I don't know

Oh of being able to find the time to do this

Pasting to clear desktop

Aspergers

Earthquake. Or a shift in things

It doesnt get any easier

Old Friends

Selfconfidence, belief, faith ==?

Bluuurrghhhhhh (vomit sound)

What I Want

I'm back

The Last Smoke

The Last Smoke

On the Lake

Row Row Row Your Boat...

High Contrast on Dal Lake

Drive By Wedding

Seattle Cats

Back in the Other City

Oh Dear

10 Irrational Thoughts Rational People Often Think

To Read

10 Things We All Must Figure Out for Ourselves

Shiny Shiny Stuff

Random Drivel

You Have *Got* To Get This!

Ten Feet Deep

Chasing Dragons

Blog by Nmbers

Big Swinging Dick, Customer Support

Pictures

Daily Drivel

Badly Written Post, Just Want To Remind Myself How Things Change

You Know What You Did

Falling Off the Map

I'm Tired and I Want to go Home Now Please

Bugger

To Be Succinct...

Oh Oh Oh...

Dec '07

StumbleUpon Words

THEY Got Blisters on Their Fingers!

I Wanted to Write

And Something Scary/Wonderful/Haunting/Happy/Used/Tired/Mad/Gleeful...

Something Brilliant

Oh. My. God.

Pictures

How Would You Describe This?

Ignore Last Post

Halloween has Gone and so Have the Ghosts

I Don't Know Why...

"In the Words of Others" or "I Will Quote the Truth Wherever I Find it"

Things That Make You Go "Oooooh! That's Going to Sting!"

Time Off

Relationship Snapshot

Would I Do This?

Please Watch This

If You Take Away ANYthing at All...

Bloody Hell, This Actually Worked!!

Untitled

Garble Garble

Email

This Makes Me Sick

ADD Strikes Again, on Neruda, MASH, Monkeys and Three Strikes

Oye Sasquatch

?

10 Points if You Get This One

Random Line That Refuses to Leave

What Eventally Came of Major Tom

I Wish I Hadn't Seen This

Why Didn't I Think of That? (This is a Rhetorical Question Stemming From My Ego Which Realizes There is Much to be Learned)

MumSpeak

Bronx Zoo, Central Park

It's Extremely Effective...

See, Here's Why I Get Agitated

What. The. Fuck...In French

If I Can Get aTall Skinny Half Caff Caramel Macchiato...

Trippy Ass Shiite

You Have Got To Get This!

The Whiniest post ever. but i needed this. so. f.u.