Monthly Archives: November 2008

Brad Pitt Is a Hrarf-Hrarf?

I have a lot of problems plauging me right now. Ranging from how my college is performing it’s “End-Sem THF Fuckover™” to my left calf (which has something called DVT or a Soft Tissue Injury or, as is normally the case vis a vis MY Luck, both) to my cellphone (which is fucked up pretty bad – I think it’s the battery -) to the non-existent prize money I have to recieve from IIFT and IIT-Kanpur to the immense amount of time that has passed since I last went to the house down the road from the juice shop at Green Park Market to my application headaches. 

And now, to titular news (and that, children, is how you fit the syllable TIT into a seemingly innocuous blog post).

Brad Pitt isn’t my favorite actor. That’s Daniel Day-Lewis.

David Fincher isn’t my favorite director. He’s close, but he’s not. That title currently belongs to Stanley Kubrick. (Saw Full Metal Jacket recently. Will try and review)

But together; the cause of more female orgasms than vibrating dildoes and the man who wiki claims is “known for his dark and stylish portraits of the human experience” have produced two of the most (tries to come up with a serious and really witty adjective to follow up the superlative. Fails) fucking amazing flicks I have ever seen.

Se7en – Yes. It is a “cops trailing a serial killer” type movie. But you have to watch to appreciate the sheer artistry.

Fight Club – Do not be misled by the name. It’s not just a movie about fighting. Well, to a certain extent it is. But not just fistcuffs and brawls. It delves into parts of the human psyche one would rather leave alone. It paints a frighteningly realistic and yet unrecognisable picture of how the life we crave can be a gulag of sorts. And, of course, it has major Calvin and Hobbes and Anarchy references. Which I will always like. 

And now… there’s ‘The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button’. It’s adapted by something written by F. Scott Fitzgerald, an author of great renown who I have never read. But to me, it sounds more like something from The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy (Tertiary Phase. Episode I). You know you’re a DNA fanboy when you find fragments of his work almost everywhere (figuratively unless you’re in Nimish’s room where it becomes literal).

Just hope this doesn’t turn out to be another Beowulf. Please!

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Filed under Art, College, Life, Random, Rants


FUBAR – Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

FUBBAR – The way this guy pronounced it at IIFT last weekend. Which makes this version worse.

Things are FUBBAR. I shall list them out and continue wasting my life.

  • My Computer is fucked. Again. I think the Motherboard is screwed. Again. And the RAM. Again. And the Hard Drive. This is new. My Hard Drive had approximately 200GB of hard-earned movies, music, games, e-books, pdfs and the like.
  • My attendance is fucked in new ways. It’s 85% in two subjects. And 56% in the rest. Go figure.
  • I have two extremely painful ulcers in my mouth. Which means I haven’t eaten in 24 hours. And I can’t speak unless it’s through my teeth, which makes me sound perennially angry. Which I am. But not with anyone in particular.
  • And the worst part of all of this is… Wait. That’s yet to happen. Shit!

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Filed under Crap Rating- *****, Life, Rants, Why Life Sucks

panta rhei

I should be doing something productive with my time. Seriously. Instead… I’m using the blogosphere to ponder aboot how something Heraclitus said is true and wondering if people like Phileas Fogg are truly fictional in nature, i.e. that it is impossible for someone like that to really exist. You think of Phileas Fogg and you imagine someone who would be the exact same person no matter when you met him, be it 1871 or 1869. Two years, when viewed from a distance seem like a very short span of time to see massive change. Yet, as I have written in another piece of fictional crap that is slightly, but only slightly, better than the previous post; it takes only a second for someone to change completely. And that’s what this post is aboot. I’m not trying to piss anyone off here, but it has been fun “researching” this. Here are some lines from blogs in November 2006 followed by November 2008. Many people have changed, some have remained the same. Some have changed in ways I personally wish they didn’t whereas I am truly happy others aren’t the way they were then. Who is who is for you to figure out. As for those who’ve remained the same… I guess Parmenides is your man.

We start with the author:

Nov. 2006:

Socrates always believed that we ought to “Know Thyself”. I interpret that as every human being has a right to (and should) formulate his/her own individual philosophy rather than blindly follow that set by others. If your philosophy matches with that of others, good, but do not coerce people in following YOUR beliefs. That’s what Rand is not doing. She gives the reader a false sense of intellectual fulfillment while he’s really doing the same thing in the end, blindly following the principles laid down by others.

(The post was a review of ‘The Fountainhead’. I still think it’s a piece of crap. The book, not the post. Actually… er… nevermind!)

Nov. 2008:

Whatever be the case, I can claim that my life is usually quite extraordinary. Even now, it is extraordinarily frustrating. I was in my trademarked Russian authors phase yesterday, which is basically a dangerous concoction of me behaving like a attention-deprived puppy dog (or mangy mutt) and a character from Tolstoy or Dostoevsky.

I guess my blog has gone off and become a purely personal diary. The last time I wrote aboot something that wasn’t ME was here. And I think my blog was called ‘From Chaos To Cosmos’ back then.

My most dedicated reader: (by far, the biggest insult I have ever given you)

Nov. 2006:

I teamed up with Harish A of Amity University’s Aerospace engg.

We were in the back of the seminar hall, joking around. When they announced my name, they said “Himish” and my mind went… “WTF! ZOMG!!!” But I thought why make a scene. The next thing they announce “Himish is from BVPC..” and here I shouted “Oh my GOD! It’s NIMISH! It’s an N not an H!”

Nov. 2008:

I art tired. And quite cranky. And not enough personal time in a day, you know? But there’s something going on. The word hope springs to mind, but that’s not it. It’s some kind of an irrational feeling that today shall be better than yesterday. Unreasonable positive mood. I don’t know why.

(His blog is custom-posted. He’s working with India’s leading IT company. He’s in my ex-hometown. No further updates)

Not quite 2 years exactly:

If this guy blogged back then, I didn’t know of it. But I don’t want him to feel left out. So, his first post.

Feb. 2007:

So does ASIMO have better flexibilty ? Most definately. My prehistoric sibling (age gap 5 years) points out that this is a welcome to the life of adults. Stockpiles of work, deadlines, skipping meals, erratic sleeping patterns, fatigue, a drooping posture, vitamin deficiencies and of course sweet dreams which begin after 4:00 a.m. (Even though I called it a day at 10:00 p.m. last night) seem to be a constant

Nov. 2008:


Me: Aargh .. !!


(A few minutes later)

MRI machine and me (in unison): TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC ..

(o.0 This is something I didn’t quite notice. Something in the air of BVPC…)

Poisonous Liquid:

Nov. 2006:

Emptiness many a heart, on fed,
With none to console;
While the heart alone bled,
No one helped condole.

Nov. 2008:

It is ironic that, even when you’re writing for your self always, it is a world you hardly make any sense of read about what you do, and the people that want to know, you don’t find time to do so.

(Point and laugh for 2006. 2008… Actually read)

And there’s noone else? I thought about Ions of something or the other, but technically I didn’t read his blog back then. (I have a psuedo-policy of no names. When I remember it, I follow it)

Should I hide from the backlash for this post? Not really. Noone reads my blog now! 😦 But noone read it back then! shrugs shoulders Meh. Nothing has changed!


Filed under Life

A Short, Meandering, Pointless and Badly Written Story


He was awake.

“What time is it?”

5 AM.

It was a torrid slumber. He had two styles of sleeping. Either he slept in a manner that could make a casual observer confuse him for someone dead or at least in a comatose state or it was a sleep punctured by sleepy, incoherent muttering peppered with the occasional swear or three and sudden awakenings where he would jump out of his bed with an unexplainable adrenaline rush that would rapidly dissipate as he struggled to decide what he should do now that he’s awake and fresh before he felt sleepy again. Sometimes he would wake up, sit in a corner and contemplate about absolutely nothing, but contemplate nevertheless.

He decided he wanted to take a bath.

It was cold; unseasonably cold for a mid-October morning. He didn’t know that he was shivering while asleep and even though the cooler in his room was switched off by his room-mate, who was watching ‘The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford’ on the nearby desktop, there was a discernable chill in his room. His feet would’ve felt the cold floor if they weren’t sheltered by the socks he had been wearing continuously for the past three and a half days. It should be “almost continuously”. He had been wearing them throughout with the exception of ten minutes a day, when he removed them to take a bath. The left sock was blue and a very good quality one he had got as a free gift when he bought a brand new pair of shoes from Reebok (He had two pairs of shoes, both bought from Reebok. He didn’t even like the company that much). The free socks were the least they could give him in exchange for his act of brand loyalty. The right one was white and had been bought two weeks ago at a department store which were selling them at 149 bucks for three pairs.

He headed for the bath room he shared with 4 other people. The space between bath and room is accurate, as it wasn’t a bathroom – the toilet was a separate room. A pedantic individual might’ve described it as a bath cell. A normal human being would feel claustrophobic inside it. At 6 feet 2 inches tall and 85 kilograms, he was larger than a normal human being and felt constricted having to bathe in a room where he couldn’t move in any direction without stubbing his elbow against the wall. The floor looked clean, but that was a misconception. He opened the tap and stared as the water filled the plastic bucket, making a racket which he believed would be sufficient to wake the person in the room nearby. He touched the boundary of the water with his fingertips, gauging its temperature.


He went outside.



He went downstairs to the kitchen and opened the fridge. In the freezer lay two plastic bottles, each filled to the brim with the regulation two-liter capacity. They had been there all night and were just beginning to freeze. He pulled both out and went back up to the bath cell. He emptied the bottles into the bucket and let it fill. He took of his clothes and stood there, waiting. He touched the water again. Better, he thought. He couldn’t imagine how, but there was a cold draft in the cell. He shivered just a bit. He continued to stare at the water, feeling it occasionally with his fingertips. He would’ve liked it to be even colder. He finally lifted a mug, dunked it so that it was three-quarters full and then lifted it to eye level. He took a few drops and rubbed them across his eyes. This, he thought, will sting. He took a deep breath and lifted the mug over his head. He breathed out, slowly and emptied it over himself.

As he felt the frigid water pour over his body, his closed eyes allowed him to see his biggest fear. He could never describe his biggest fear in the form of an abstract noun or even a proper noun; which is why he was perennially inconsistent with replies to any question whose gist was ‘what are you afraid of?’. The answers ranged from darkness, ignorance, failure, death, a life filled with mundane mediocrity and bees, wasps, hornets and any insect that could fly and sting. In reality, his biggest fear was a scene. It featured him in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean on a cold winter’s night, floating with the support of Athe-knows-what in waters you couldn’t see through because they were that cold and the night was that dark. All around him, all he can see are heaving waves that somehow never reach him. Then, he would see below his feet the form of the largest animal to have ever existed on this planet – a blue whale. Though he knew it subsides on plankton and poses him no predatory threat, he would feel an unnameable fear that was darkness, ignorance, death and insects with stings and wings multiplied and raised to the power of a googolplex. If the same creature were to turn and then break through the surface of the water to take a breath and release a mixture of air and sea-water from its snout, he would at that very moment die of sheer terror. He continued pouring the frigid water over himself and felt his thoughts shift from his fear to his memories. He felt a funny taste on his lips and instantly recognized it.

“You have to be kidding me.”

For someone who doesn’t eat a lot of fruit (unless you count mango shakes), she does taste very fruity. Like apples or strawberry ice-cream or the 3-rupee raspberry icicles you used to get at Bethany High.

Another mug of water over his body. This time, he thought of the drawing he saw somewhere, of how fashion was at the top and nature at the bottom. He then hoped that the “artist” meant nature in the way physicists talk about nature, as opposed to environmentalists. He thought about how nature encompasses everything. Right from him, a dung beetle, the planet Earth, the Andromeda Galaxy and vast tracts of general emptiness between our galaxy cluster and the next. He decided to try to always refer to the environmentalists’ interpretation of nature (trees, animals, clear lakes reflecting the snowy peak they’re situated next to…) with a more accurate word. Biosphere will do.

He was finished with his bath. He didn’t wipe himself off with his towel; instead he just wrapped it around himself and went outside to the balcony to feel the cool breeze against his wet body. This innuendous act complete, he retreated to his room and dried himself. He put on his socks, the blue Reebok on the right and the white local on the left. He wore his clothes, he can’t remember what. He rarely remembers what he wears. He lay down on his bed and went to sleep. He woke up three and a half hours later by shouting “What!” thrice in a row.


Filed under "Zapped", Art, Avert your eyes!, Crap Rating- *****, Ideas --> Words --> ???, Life, Phil0s0phy, Pointless rambling, Random, Taureum Excretae

Dear God, NO!

The worst has happened. I have internet. And Linux. Which means… something very bad.

<Insert evil laugh here>

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Filed under Life

All that any conscious entity can ever hope to do

I’ve been told I live life as if it’s a movie or a book or a play or a porno. Or, and this is the interpretation I’d tend to agree with, something which is perceived as high-art by the artist and a select group of loons and is perceived as trash by almost everyone else. Whatever be the case, I can claim that my life is usually quite extraordinary. Even now, it is extraordinarily frustrating. I was in my trademarked Russian authors phase yesterday, which is basically a dangerous concoction of me behaving like a attention-deprived puppy dog (or mangy mutt) and a character from Tolstoy or Dostoevsky. In the words of a namesake… “That’s Sad!”

Life was good till sometime ago. *cough* Who am I kidding?

In any case, my Internet connection is finally on it’s way. Any day now and I will have anywhere between 300 to 512 kbps of unlimited broadband joy at my fingertips. But…

I call my dekstaap by a very specific and very apt name. HAL. Not only because it’s Harish ALagappa’s PC, but because it has a mind of it’s own and it is the 3rd most erratic and random mind I know of. I’ve spent all day trying to switch the damn thing on and watching with steadily increasing despair as it refuses to proceed beyond the BIOS setup screen. One might even say that the entire evening has spent thus:

Hello, HAL do you read me, HAL? 

Affirmative, Dave, I read you.

Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.

What’s the problem?

I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do. 

So, around the time I can expect the Internet shall arrive at my doorstep, I shall be at Nehru Place trying to get my personal Judas that tries to pass itself off as a PC repaired for the fifth time in the seven months that I’ve owned it. Damn. The only thing that’s been more unpredictable in these last six months has been… Nah! Obvious joke!

Anyway, back to the PC…

Dave? Just what do you think you’re doing, Dave?


Filed under Computers and Tech, Crap Rating- *****, Life, Random, Rants, Why Life Sucks