On the Other Side

I've moved

2009-01-29T18:28:00.001-05:00

I can now be found here. Hopefully, this latest return to blogging will be less ephemeral than my previous attempts.

2008-09-28T17:57:00.001-04:00

The sad truth, I have discovered, of my existence is that I want what I don't/can't have and want what I've given up for what I can't have.

The Dark Knight (spoiler alert)

2008-07-22T19:37:00.009-04:00

I read a review of the movie from The New Yorker.

Ledger has a fright wig of ragged hair; thick, running gobs of white makeup; scarlet lips; and dark-shadowed eyes. He’s part freaky clown, part Alice Cooper the morning after, and all actor. He’s mesmerizing in every scene. His voice is not sludgy and slow, as it was in “Brokeback Mountain.” It’s a little higher and faster, but with odd, devastating pauses and saturnine shades of mockery.

The review is pretty accurate, in my opinion. Upon reflection, the sole reason for why I would return to watch (again) is Ledger's performance. Each scene that had Joker in it made me lean forward and pay close attention to him - his moderately outlandish mannerisms, his wanton disregard for societal mores, his love of chaos and his playfully diabolical malevolence.

If I were a criminal (and it's not something I wouldn't consider), I'd like to be Joker. His brand of evil seems pure, untouched by the mere monetary pursuits of more ordinary lawbreakers. It's really a pleasure to see the man do what he does solely to terrorise the city. While it's probably not the most admirable trait in a young fellow, I can't help but admire how beatific his intent seems, relative to the rather boorish, materialistic ideas of the mob.

The second time I watched it (last night), I was able to focus my attention on the non-visual aspects of the film, especially the score, and the delivery of Ledger's lines. In particular, there is the opening bank-robbery scene in which a constant, moderately high-pitched whine operates increasing in volume and frequency, beginning with the shooting of the first clown. As the would-be thieves set about relieving the mob-bank of some of its ill-gotten funds, the whine pulses like a sine wave, making the tension in the air rapidly thicken. Reducing itself to faint background noise as gun shots ring and the crooks do away with each other, it brings together in seamless fashion, an outstanding scene that sets the tempo for the rest of the film with its slick brand of violence. Only once in the scene is the score relegated to second place: as the shotgun-toting guard lies on the floor bemoaning the unprincipled nature of Gotham's latest cadre of criminals, Joker responds with the (in my mind, classic) line, 'The only thing I believe in is that which does not kill you, makes you... stranger,' while ripping off his mask to reveal his war-painted countenance.

Each scene is rife with tension, and resembles a roller-coaster ride with a constant downward spiral. The roles played by Oldman, Eckhart, Gyllenhaal and Bale complement Ledger well, with none seeking to steal the spotlight. Bale is significantly more subdued in this movie than its prequel, merely parrying Ledger's stabs at society's fabric and peace-of-mind, mending the rents his nemisis tears and rips in Gotham, occasionally effecting a counter-stroke and spending time debating with the ever-droll Alfred (Caine) the nature of criminality and the need to remain strong in his conviction despite the cries for Batman's head following widespread violence in the city. The movie also brings the dependence of Batman on his able and willing support cast, consisting of Lucius Fox and Alfred who provide technical, ethical and spiritual advice to the Caped Crusader.

2008-06-14T02:20:00.004-04:00

Ruining any possibility of a morning run, I've decided to chat with friends and look up random trivia on Wikipedia: the last 3 searches were - Paloma (I meant the SS Music VJ, Google thought I meant Paloma Picasso, whoever she is), Veyyil (the best Tamil film this year), and the 'GI Joe theme' that I grew up on the mid-90s.

Last afternoon, I Skyped (that's a word in Firefox, and 'Google' isn't?) with Veeru, Suhail and Modi. Among other things, we mocked Veeru, made fun of Suhail's Aussie accent and Modi being the King. The King of what, you ask? Doesn't matter. We also listened to the Johnny Quest theme a few times sang along ('tan-tan-tanananana-tan-tan') and then Modi made the point how stupid it sounded. Quite right, but still fun to sing.

Work took a sudden and unexpected upswing thanks to help from a psych. grad student who showed me how to create movies in MATLAB. Sounds geeky, but it was fun to watch the bee do a 180-degree turn in 15 seconds. Now to solve the memory issue and show it to my prof.

Walking to Schnuck's this evening with my flatmate, I noticed him stepping on a rather odd-looking twig. When nothing happened, I let it go. Only to be a confronted with hissing cousin of what I presume was a dead serpent. He did a jump in the air, as did I, and we were a bit wary the rest of the way - though I did occasionally ask if he thought [random object] was a snake. Didn't appreciate the gesture too much, I think.

Why is buying groceries so much fun? Perhaps there is a neuroscientific explanation for why shelling out money for food is an exciting experience.

Night Sky

2008-02-25T20:30:00.003-05:00

I seem to have almost completely stopped writing anything original. Here's another link that I found interesting.

Scientific American has a slideshow on the evolution of the night sky. It's pretty awesome. I love the Calvinistic fashion in which they describe the future of our planet.

Here's one image titled - 'Andromeda Rising'.
© 1996-2008 Scientific American Inc. All Rights Reserved.

IPL auction

2008-02-22T09:44:00.002-05:00

It's hard not to talk about the IPL auction when Chennai has a team and is spending like crazy. Although I think 'Chennai Super Kings' is among the stupidest things I've ever seen in print, I'm quite excited - what with the likes of Hayden, Dhoni & Murali in the ranks. Is Dhoni worth $1.5 M? I certainly hope so. However, although I dislike his mug, I think Symonds would've been a better choice.

On a forum I read, someone debated the usefulness of a strong bowling attack on a flat pitch in the 20/20 format. If I remember correctly, the bowling in last year's T20 Cup (it wasn't an official WC, mind) was pretty spectacular and one of the (surprising) reasons that the matches remained competitive. Pundits say that 20/20 will make bowlers obsolete and pitches boringly flat (not that the subcontinent's pitches are anything but), but I, in the tradition of Levitt & Dubner, believe that the new format will result in the resurgence of & necessitate a strong bowling attack.

On with the auction!

I hope I'm in Chennai for a game or two. I'm glad they're starting the matches late in the evening (8 pm, I believe) because the May maasam summer will be a little too much for most of the players. I think the MAC will fill up for quite a few games, hopefully for regional clashes like Hyderabad-Chennai & Bangalore-Chennai.

*sigh* If only Ranji would be followed thus...

Flash of a Firefly

2008-02-10T22:45:00.000-05:00

I'm supposed to be writing a recursive-descent parser for CS421, but ended up watching this instead.

'Life After People' is a History Channel documentary that, well... I suppose the name is fairly self-descriptive. I found it through this blog. Watch it. It's really quite fascinating.

It's sad to know that life will go on long after I'm gone, and even sadder (based on my new-found knowledge from the doc.) is the fact that the tenuous grip we hold over the planet, claiming to be its masters is ephemeral and fleeting. National Geographic magazine once described the timeline of the visible universe (since its birth 13 billion years ago) as one long summer day - and the era of humans was merely a flash of a firefly at sunset. We'll soon be dust.

--
Postscript - armed with this fatalism, I wonder whether the CS421 homework actually needs to be done... after all, we'll all be dead in 80-90 years.

Edit - I do have one small problem with the assumption the documentary makes. How exactly are people going to 'vanish'? If the human race were to die out, it would be in exactly that fashion - through some invincible worldwide epidemic or in a disastrous nuclear winter. It would take at least 30-40 years for all of us to die, I would guess (though I have absolutely no authority to make that statement). We couldn't just vanish, could we?

Edit2 - The last 6 minutes are really amazing, very HG Wells's 'The Time Machine'-ish.

Turning veggie

2008-01-27T14:27:00.000-05:00

My flatmate turned veggie after reading this article - http://www.dailygarlic.com/vegetarian-diet/2008/01/25/

I read it too and I feel quite virtuous. I ate some strawberries with relish and am in the process of devouring an apple. Fruits never taste this good before.

Oldie but a goodie

2008-01-01T21:25:00.000-05:00

I usually resist the temptation to post videos and photos on my blog (the only other video is of Gavin Henson hitting Matthew Tait, which, in my op., is rather memorable), but this one is rather funny. I'd like to meet some of these US Americans.

...

The Unwilling Non-vegetarian and other stories

2007-12-26T22:36:00.000-05:00

It all began when five 21G buses passed me by at the Kotturpuram stop. Being the earnest fool that I am, I had decided to forego the benefits and luxury of a (self-driven) car and went to the bus-stop to catch a ride in one of the new Volvos that ply on Chennai roads. 10:37, :48 and others stopped, but I merely turned a cold shoulder and 'pfff-ed'. A frustrating half-hour later, when I began to doubt whether I had been wise, the Volvo arrived. Underwhelming, slightly. I stood at the front of the bus and waited for the Mylapore stop. 18 bucks, it was - not bad in the least as an auto would've been at least thrice the price.

I don't know what the hell Chennai Metrowater is doing, digging a huge hole on the Kotturpuram side of the bridge. Traffic was painfully slow, perhaps even rivalling the the peak hour average speed of Bangalore.

Reaching Mylapore, I harried B, with whom I was to roam about the city. We boarded the northbound MRTS at Thirumylai, an adventure in itself, as the train was almost in full motion when I jumped on, backpack in tow. The train is fantastic - offering unparalleled views of the city, Marina and the wonder that is the Cooum. The wondrous thing about the Cooum is that no one knows how exactly it is spelt. Very odd, that.

Reaching Beach station, I sneaked into the season ticket line and bought two regulars to Thirumayilai. Of course, just seconds after I bought the tickets, I realised that I would be getting off at Chepauk to watch the Ranji Trophy Super League game between TN & Delhi. Terribly boring game, that. 3 overs after I got there, I got the hell out. Took me 15 min from Chepauk to Kotturpuram! However, alighting at Kotturpuram puts one in the at-risk category for being run over by an errant, or perhaps overly zealous, lorry driver.

I went to Anokhi last evening with a friend from work last summer. Chennai has been, in the past, somewhat lacking in the gilpaans department, but from what I saw there, corrective measures are being taken. It was there that I accidentally ate a mosquito and thus did this story acquire its title.

After a standard beach goof-off with Fatman & Aravind, I went a bar called '10 Downing St.' in T. Nagar. The purpose of the music there appeared to be to dull one's sense of hearing. They were very effective at this objective and went about it with much gusto. Inexpensive place, though, I've dropped (hah, always wanted to say that) more at dinner. 3 beers, a total of 330 bucks. Not bad at all. This bar also had a good gilpaans crowd.

Jaws

2007-12-20T21:39:00.000-05:00

My jaws are still aching from the effects of last night's laughter. It's so good to be back after a year. I've done all my usual hangout things - New Yorker, Landmark, Beach, CCD, Mocha, etc., and I'm ready for repeats. Any new places worth a visit?

I thought Madras had changed a lot since I had left, but it turns out I was wrong. Yesterday at the beach was a good example - I was there, as is my usual wont, for 5 hours. Aravind, Fatman & I walked up and down the Promenade at least 20 times, seeking to fulfil what I term 'the probability rule' - the probability of running into someone I (or we) know tends to one. It is, of course, dependent on how long one is there, but it's usually within the first 15-20 min. that we run into someone.

Fatman, that fraud, refused to introduce us to his Machan gang (of NUS infamy). Apparently the members of this cabal suffix 'Machan' to the end of their every statements, such as, 'Poolu vettiduvein machan.' Of course, Aravind and I were trying desperately to upset the ship and show the 'machans' what a fraud Fatman was. Sadly, we didn't.

Ah, my writing has begun to suck even more. I blame it on the slightly slow cursor.

New coach, end of sem., etc.

2007-12-04T12:31:00.000-05:00

So, Kirsten is our new coach, it seems, acc. to the BBC. He has said, 'I have no concerns what the players think about my appointment.' What a jackass. Hope he goes the Chappell way. Apparently the senior players in the team aren't too happy with his appointment. That's good, because they have a lot of power.
***
The end of the semester approaches, and with it, finals. This has been the best semester so far. I've met some fun people, and done a lot of timepass. It feels good. But I'm also eager to back to Madras, haven't seen it in a year and all that.
***
I was in Paris for the Rugby World Cup final. It was fantastic, and I should post pics. or something, but I don't know if I will. If I do, I'll post a link.

And now to resume sight-adicchifying the cute Bar Giuliani waitress.

Regular service will resume

2007-10-17T02:15:00.000-04:00

Regular service (or whatever passes for it) shall resume in the near future.
Remember, the adventure begins at 10:15 am CDT on Thursday, October 18th.

More to follow...

New York City

2007-08-31T15:24:00.001-04:00

Movin' In

2007-08-28T15:19:00.000-04:00

I returned to college last Monday, and have good reason for not posting anything original in the past week, apart from the post below this one, which served just to prove a point, and will probably be gone soon. Then again, it might not go. Whatever.

Monday, I moved in and helped P (for the sake of anonymity) shift his stuff into the apartment. He'd arrived an hour or so before I did, and took the biggest bedroom in the place. No problem, I don't really care about how big the room I inhabited would be, it wasn't all that important. Being greeted by broken shards of glass from a beer bottle while carrying a heavy cardboard box that is almost falling to pieces, containing kitchen utensils isn't all that much fun. Barring this, and the fact that there were only one-and-a-half bathrooms in the place, it was reasonably nice.

We've all heard horror stories of room mates. Mine isn't a horror story per se, but it could well become one in the future, depending on how things progress. P had an interview with a company the following morning and decided to spend that night at his girlfriend's, where the Internet had already been set up. We bade him good night and good luck. He returned the following morning to brush, shower, change and then escape. We weren't to see much of him that day. Or the next few, come to think of it. He was never there.

Well, during the day, classes and all that, so it's fine. At night? He's not slept one night in his bedroom, nor has he unpacked. Who cares, you ask. Just mind your business and leave others to theirs. I would, and I don't really give a damn where he spends his time. However, there is the issue of encroachment. In terms of ones things. He made tea on Monday, and left the vessel with the wet tea leaves in there. On Saturday, I happened to notice that mould had begun to inhabit this vessel. Disgusted, I threw it in the dustbin. I left. He entered, after now-normal nightly sojourn to his chick's and picked the thing out of the garbage, and promised to clean it up. He then made an omlette, leaving cut onions for all to smell and admire. Following which he left the omlette pan on the range. Then he ate, leaving behind an unwashed plate and a host of other soiled kitchen things. He left.

I hope that you have kept in mind his promise to wash the tea pot. I found it the same day in the sink, unwashed, mould flourishing. I cleaned up the other dishes and left, still annoyed and more and more disgusted. Late at night, after I returned, I found his closet doors in the hall; apparently, he didn't approve of them in his room. Well, I'm not sure of your feelings towards this, but I was pissed. I use the hall to entertain guests, however lame that might sound, and the sight of two wooden closet doors reclining against the far wall does my temper no good.

As he had not spent a single night in the apartment, he saw no reason to unpack. Again, your sense of fairness seeks you to question me, 'Onnakku enna, whether he unpacks or not? Why this invidious reservation towards his habits?' OK, fair enough. He doesn't need to unpack. I haven't either. Not fully, that is. 'Ah, so you shouldn't be talking,' you say. Hey, I kept my shit in my room. Not spread out through out the house. His suitcase is in the hallway. Taking into account that he has appropriated the largest bedroom, I see no reason why it shouldn't remain within.

On Sunday, J & I, tired of this nonsense, decided to 'take it to the next level.' We left Post-It notes in strategic locations urging him to renounce his wicked ways, and redress the situation. Had just 'speak' been added to that, this would've been a Julius Caesar moment. I was rude in the notes, and so was J. 'Put the closet doors in your room, NOW!' said one. 'Leaving?? Turn of the A/C NOW!' was another. I hope you can understand the desperation that drove us to this extreme.

Oh, and he also leaves the A/C on when he leaves the apartment. Even when no one else is home.

#368

2007-08-21T15:49:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday Chennai!

The Debit Card Fiasco or How Chase Screwed With Me for nearly a Month.

2007-08-13T23:22:00.000-04:00

And so it continues.

Today: Receive debit cards from Chase (one of them was an older, now invalid thing - a product of their remarkably inefficient delivery process). Overjoyed, I attempt to withdraw money from an ATM (and not, as they would have me believe an 'ATM machine'). Wrong PIN (they say 'PIN Number'), it seems. Call up Chase and debate the different methods of obtaining a new PIN. They can deliver it to me in 3-5 business days. Hmm, all right, can they send it to me via UPS to me, so as to expedite the process and lessen my heartburn? No sir, we can't, they say. So, they have the capacity to send the card via UPS, but not the PIN? Oh well, do send it to me in '3-5 business days.' I had accidentally typed 35, and erased it, but as far as Chase is concerned, it's all the same, innit?

The good news is, I can use my card. Just not to withdraw cash.

Friday, 10th August: Checked with Purchasing to see if my debit card had arrived. Nope. Call up Chase; the effort it took not to yell at the 'telephone banker' must've caused that tumour to advance a few inches. I'm suing if I have to operate, I'll tell you right now. Apparently, they dont' have the company name on the address. Great. When will I have the card? Oh, Monday sir, definitely. My anger management would've made Jack Nicholson proud. Though that vein in my forehead did scare a few children. Useful little bugger. *pats forehead lovingly*

Wednesday, 8th August: Checked to see if the damn thing had been delivered. Guess not. Called up Chase. Apparently the card I had asked for on Monday wasn't processed. Great. Great. Could I speak to a manager? Yes sir, here he is. You have screwed up my order enough, now when can I have the card? Well, sir, I am sorry for the delay (sure you are, you little liar) but if you wouldn't move (I spluttered, almost foaming at the mouth). Giving them an address isn't enough? What the fuck, seriously? Seri free. When could I expect it? Oh, Friday, sir.

Monday, 6th August: Checked to see if the card had arrived. This was to become a coommon theme later. Oh well, guess not. Called up the bank and asked them why I didn't have it in my hand, able to spend as I wished. Oh, sir, this looks like it hasn't been processed. What?! OK, when can I have it? Wednesday? OK, OK fine.

Friday, 3rd August: Oh, thank you so much. You've been very helpful. So, I can expect the card on Monday? Fantastic, thanks so much! Bye, have a nice day! Yes, it's coming on Monday! (Ah, so what if the other one came yesterday?)

Thursday, 2nd: I recieve the original card today (the one I cancelled on Monday)! After 10 freakin' business days. What the hell are these morons doing? First they send the card I have UPS-ed to me back (because I changed the address, so what?), and now the invalid one lands up 3 days late?! Arseholes. I'm going to rip them a new one tomorrow.

Wednesday, 1st August: Called up UPS to have them send the card to the office, instead of to my house. Should be here tomorrow, I s'pose (to steal a line from Ron).

Monday, 30th July: No card yet, and it's the 7th business day. Called up Chase, had them cancel the card, and had another one UPS-ed to me. 2 business days, and should cost me 5$. Fuck the cost, I need that card.

Friday, 27th July: Still no card. Damn.

Thursday, 26th July: No card, hope it arrives soon.

Thursday, 19th July: Fuck, fuck, fuck! Lost my effing wallet. Called up Chase and cancelled my debit card. They say that I should have a new one in 5-7 business days. I can handle it, not so bad.

Giving flight to fancy

2007-08-02T12:23:00.000-04:00

You take a seat on the bus, putting your bag down next to you. Hoping against hope that no one wants to sit there. You look around, and there aren't too many people there. Good, you say to yourself. You notice a small box wrapped in a pink polythene bag. Hmm, you wonder, who could've left that there?

Your mind flashes to the warnings you've heard & seen - "Please report any unattended bags or suspicious behaviour to the bus driver." Snorting at the thought of the box being potentially dangerous, you return to your world of the book and the world outside. It's troubling you, still. You can't focus entirely on what's written in the book, the poetic lines into which you want to escape. The music blaring in your ears doesn't help either. You're still vaguely uneasy about the box; and still in doubt whether to cause a panic by telling the bus driver.

But you know what he doesn't; a box, wrapped in pink plastic, that could be dangerous. You're almost convinced of it - what else could it be, you ask yourself?

You allow your imagination to take flight. Suspicions that you, consciously, would have never entertained, become more and more realistic and plausible. As the bus speeds on, you feel disconnected from the outside world, choosing to focus solely within.

Everyone becomes a suspect - the old couple that are whispering in the seat in front of you, the blue-eyed boy that throws smouldering looks at each new rider, the middle-aged, smartly-dressed gentleman taking the seat behind you. Your focus, however, remains on the box. Your eyes, though drawn momentarily to the pretty seventeen year-old girl whose halter you long to remove, return to the box. Even the driver is not above suspicion. As he calls out each new destination, you think you can hear a sinister note enter his voice.

Dragging your eyes away from the girl's torso, unwillingly, you pan the surroundings, hoping to catch a glimmer of malice, an evil laugh or a malevolent grin from your co-passengers. A new worry arises - is it just one? Are they all working together? Are you the only one unaware of what is happening? Your senses strain to catch hints of collaboration - a tiny nod of acknowledgement, a shrug of the shoulders or a yawn; they could all be secret signals. Why, even the driver's tone changes as he announces the stops - could this be a call to arms?

(based on this morning's bus commute to work - I'm not sure whether to continue. I don't have any idea how to, either.)

Late realisation

2007-08-01T12:09:00.000-04:00

I never realised, until now, how vast the US actually is - it's 3100 miles (better known to the world as 4960 km) from Boston to San Francisco. Check it out. It's really mind-boggling.

To-do list before graduation: Drive from Boston to SF. Perhaps right after graduation. Even though I live near Chicago. This is too interesting to resist! Any takers?

Penury - I

2007-07-30T11:38:00.000-04:00

It's never easy without money, is it?

I've experienced a week of being reduced to near-poverty. Not because of an unavailability of funds, more due to the fact that I was unable to access them.

Thursday last: it was a really screwed-up day. I began my trek to Davis Square to catch the train to Alewife. Being the last-minuter that I am, I left home at 10:05, and it takes anywhere between 15 and 20 minutes to get there. I reached there just in time to see the 10:23 train depart. My bus from Alewife, #76, plies once an hour. Doomed to an hour of boredom, I waited for the next train, arrived at Alewife, and began the hour-long vigil.

Mind you, Boston-Cambridge-Somerville could rival Chennai for humidity. By the time I reached Alewife, I was swimming in my clothes. The crotch fared no better. Ugh.

At approx. 10:58, I, absorbed in Irschick's Politics & Social Conflict in South India, happened to notice a bus labelled "76." Noting the time, I chose to ignore the departure from normalcy (the next bus was only scheduled for 11:30).

"My saviour," I thought, generously heaping huge servings of lavish praise on the MBTA & bus driver.

Little did I know that I would never be the same after that ride...
(idhu konjam over dhaan, theriyum, but bear with me).

Upon boarding, I noticed that the regulars on the bus seemed absent. "No matter," I said to myself, "I shall survive without their august presence."

The bus driver seemed hell-bent on disturbing my reverie every few minutes with stunning shows of poor driving. Chennai-oda two-wheelers madhiri he was otifying the bus - Darting through this gap, past that truck, braking suddenly and happily cursing the other motorists for what obviously, their incompetence, he began to wear on my nerves. I need the bus ride to prepare my mind, or what passes for one, for the rigours of the day. Being jolted forward almost into the seat in front of me and hearing screams of fright from standing passengers did me no good.

Nor did it do me any good when the bus appeared to depart from its normal route. I assumed some sort of short cut, and gave it no further thought. A nagging doubt pervaded my confidence. Could I have boarded the wrong bus? "Pshaw," I said, "This is highly unlikely."

However, this fear was confirmed when the driver arrived at what appeared to be a hospital in Bedford. Speaking to the bus driver, I learned that it was the #62, that had been masquerading as the #76. On top of this, the bastard was smug! I bit my tongue and asked him the best way to get to Hanscom Air Force Base, which is near my office building. He told me that I'd have to walk 2 miles from some road. Fine, I thought, what's the worst that can happen?

Well, I walked two miles along a stretch of road that had no pavement, with cars zooming past at 50-60 mph (aka 80 ~ 100 kmph), at around noon, on a very humid day. Still, my spirit wasn't dampened (though my shirt certainly was). However, as I approached my destination, I realised that it bore no resemblance to anything I'd seen before. I spoke to a security guard about my predicament, about needing to reach my office, on Old Bedford Road. Being kindly, he pointed me in the right direction (finally!) and added that it was another 3 miles. What else to do? As I began the long haul along the suggested route, I called my colleague, Eric, to inform him of delayed ETA.

Me: Eric, I got somewhat lost, and will be there by about 1 or 1:15. (it was 12:20 then). I've to walk another 3 miles.

Eric: Again?! (I had called him earlier, as I alighted from the bus) You want a lift or something? I can pick you up.

Me: Thanks, chap, but there's a problem with that - in order for you to pick me up, I'd have to tell you where I am. Sadly, this valuable information is unavailable at this time.

Eric: (chortles) OK, see you in a while.

I walked another mile or so, to find myself face-to-face with MIT's Lincoln Lab. facility, from where the *correct* bus could be taken. The only problem - it was another 45 minutes before it would leave. Sweating buckets, with no food since the previous night, I waited it out. Finally, at 1:15, the bus arrived. Thanking my stars, I boarded it. I arrived at office at 1:28, after a three and a half hour commute.

This is the build-up. More to follow.

The loss

2007-07-25T12:42:00.000-04:00

There was once a woman of very high standing in society. She was the village cook. Everyone looked up to her, respected, admired and loved her. When she walked down the street, everyone turned around and paid their respects.

(This could also have something to do with the fact that each of the people she provided food for had outstanding debts, and that their currency was called "respect," but we'll leave that for another day)

One night, she was publicly spurned by the richest family in the village and asked not to ever return. She cried & cried, begging to be taken back, but it was all in vain. Everyone in the village had seen her being humiliated and she felt so awful that she almost poked a needle into her hip (sui-cide, get it?). She even considered leaving the village. However, at the advice of some friends, she decided to stick it out. Her finger that is, at the rich family.

When she returned to her house, she found that she could no longer cook the delicious meals that everyone loved so much.

She went on a trek to the Nilgiris (the one in Royapettah) to ask for answers while buying maavu. There she met a sage who was buying some thyme. His name was Parsley. She told him her tale of woe and when she had finished, he gave her a sad smile.

"When you returned to your kitchen, did you notice anything missing?" he asked kindly.
"I... umm... don't remember. I was so distraught," she replied.
"I think I know the reason for the decline. Are all your cooking utensils there?"
"Yeah, they should be... Who would steal that stuff?" she replied, positively befuddled.
"I think your pressure cooker is gone."

She paused, shocked. How would he know what was missing in her kitchen?! She hadn't noticed the loss of the cooker!

"My... my... my... pre... pressure..." she began, after slightly recovering from the shock.
"Cooker," he finished, helpfully.
"Y-y-yes. H-how would y-you know that i-its g-g-gone?"
"Simple. You've lost your prestige."

End Mokkai.

Inspired by magix'n'curses's semma kadi stories.

I just want to be a student

2007-07-24T12:47:00.000-04:00

While chatting with a friend today, we both griped about having to get up early for work - he lives in Singapore, and was just about to hit the sack. I agreed that work was a pain, at times. Awakening each morning to the realisation that you have to vacate the cosy comforts of bed, perform daily routines and then head to work is quite awful.

I'm tired of work. Not the work itself, but the routine. Being a student is better - of course, this could be one of those grass-is-greener things. Of course it is. It's escapism, plain and simple. Whatever I'm doing, I secretly build an escape route. Last sem., it was the prospect of being away from college, the boring people there and living in a new city, making money, etc. Now, though, (and I NEVER thought I'd say this), I almost wish I was back in coll. Next semester is inviting - decent classes, my own apt., a trip to France & last, and most importantly, going back to Chennai in December.

9 to 5

2007-07-17T12:19:00.000-04:00

Not what you think. I'm working 8 to 7 today, anyway.

That's how long I slept last night. 8 hours! I feel irritated, confused and dazed if I don't have that much sleep. I hope this isn't indicative of a more serious issue. Should work out and eat more fruits. I shall buy some at Harvard Square tonight. The chap at the station had some fantastic cherries, and some rather tasty plums. I think I should start eating breakfast. I feel drained by the time I reach the office and have to rely on the rather crappy coffee (I shouldn't be complaining, though, at least it's there) as an appetite suppressant. I know it's a terrible thing to do, but I'm starving by 9 or 10 in the morn. I think I'm going to start drinking more tea and stuff than coffee. And do some yoga. My calves & hamstrings are still tight from Saturday's jog.

That's it for this grumble. Back to Ork.. err, work. Yes, that's it - work. Capital idea.

I'm back

2007-07-13T21:05:00.000-04:00

... And better than ever! Seriously. I fixed my computer last night, and after being away from it for a week, it's a fantastic feeling to be able to go on line, watch movies and generally do random shit.

This week at work has been rather frustrating. As I said before, the work isn't particularly inspiring - surprisingly though, I managed to finish the bulk of it by today. Just some tidying up left, and it'll be ready for review, come Monday. Of course, this entails me to go to work tomorrow, which, after some consideration, doesn't seem like such a painful prospect anymore. What am I going to do at home, anyway?

I did some searching last night and found a sheesha place by Central Square, only 3-4 stops on the subway from Davis, which is close to where I live. Of course, prior to any sojourn there, I need to do laundry.

Why is laundry such a pain in the ass? Why doesn't my effing building have a laundromat? The place by my house is only open until 9 pm, and coming home at 7:30 makes it pretty damn hard for me to lug all my crap there, do the washing & drying and then the folding. Of course, it could be argued that I should come home earlier, but I wouldn't make as much money then. I choose to complain about the inconvenience of the laundromat & my lack of time, while at the same time raking in enough money. It's a good situation, I tell you. Well, I guess the sheesha will be something of a reward once the laundry is done.

Tiredness has also been a predominant feature this week. I get out of bed exhausted, barely able to keep my eyes open for the first half-hour or so. I leave home tired, ride the train & bus tired, and arrive at work similarly. I simply have no energy. Could this be a sign on anaemia? Or am I just being a hypochondriac? Could it just be that I'm not having breakfast, or perhaps not managing enough exercise? I shall continue to ponder these thoughts as I sat at my desk tomorrow.

I haven't been managing much exercise of late, it must be said. Quite annoying, considering my somewhat periodic attendance at the gym last semester. Tut tut, will go the one at the office tomorrow. It'll be good.

That's it for now, I guess. I want to write more interesting things, but I can't think of anything.

'Night.

Sitting here

2007-07-06T10:24:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting at my computer in the office rather bored. I'm to decode registers for the Radeon graphics card. Rather interesting - NOT (so far, anyway). I've been away for a long time, thanks to a badly behaved laptop that I haven't had time to send to the depot. It's in a pretty bad state of disrepair.

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I visited New York the past two weekends. I'd like to put up pictures, but don't want to use the office computers for the purpose. Sometime soon, hopefully. I went to a concert last Friday with Shakthi, that was a lot of fun. Tons of annoying Hispanics, though - screeching in my ear, jostling me (me!) and being inconvenient assholes shoving their hands in the way of my lens. And screaming in Spanish. Really annoyed the fuck out of me.

Going to the concert was a somewhat surreal experience. Left Boston around 10 on Friday morning, reach New York City's outskirts (the Bronx & Harlem, pukka ghettos) around 2 in the afternoon and took another frickin' hour-and-a-half to get to 42nd St., where the bus terminus is located. I think that city has worse traffic (read: slow-moving) than Chennai & Bangalore. It's more disciplined, though - which isn't much of a consolation if you're sitting in a bus, aching to get off. Not in that way, you pervs. *snorts* There was a bathroom on the bus. Not that I used it.

Alighting from the bus at 3:30 pm, I hastily deposited cheques (ka ching!) without signing them - I place the blame solely on the fact that I was disoriented from my somewhat long shuttle on the bus). Purchasing tickets to Philadelphia and then a quick meal, I forgot to return to sign the cheques. Rushing to the bank 10 min. before it shut (for the weekend, mind) and rushing back, I nearly missed my 6 pm bus. It was quite ingenious how Shakthi managed to save me a seat, but that's story better told in person (requiring rather loquacious hand movements and such).

Philadelphia... hmm, shady place. No other way to put it. Both times I've been there, I've felt it. It's a weird city. You have to be there to understand what I'm saying. But hey, I was only there for a few hours, and decided to pay it no mind. Post-concert, we had an hour or so to kill, which we spent engaged in philosophical debate in a neighbourhood park - at 1 am, I hasten to add. Halfway through a rather interesting point, I was rudely interrupted by what appeared to be stream of gas. Again, I would like to remind more crudely-minded readers that this would be along the lines of tear or nerve, not some form of anal expulsion. Where was I? Oh yeah. The sprinkler system for the lawn sprayed jets of water in our direction. Being in a supine position, being hit by the spray was unavoidable. For a moment, that is. We were quick to our feet and off to the pavement before reinforcements could drench us. Taking shelter beneath a tree, we continued our discussion before heading to the bus station.

If you've watch Seinfeld, you'll know what it's like to have a vending machine screw you, as one (no, two - they were evil twins) did me. Caught between conflicting emotions of wanting to smash its glassy front and not wanting to disturb my comrades at the station (shards of glass are never fun when you're asleep), I punched it twice, and left it at that. Deciding that it was time for the bus, we enqueued before the door. It was late, delayed by 40 min. Upon getting on the bus, we promptly fell asleep, only to be awoken by the gasp of a lady that found a gent reclining on the floor, his mind in Slumberland. Not the furniture store, its metaphysical predecessor. His head, unfortunately for him & the lady that spotted his form, was blocking the entry to the latrine. Poor chap.

Reaching New York at 5 am, we ate at a diner and discussed Chennaiite pretentiousness. The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful.

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This Wednesday, it was Independence Day. For myself (from work) and for the US. Walked around Boston for many hours, observing people, photographing buildings and taking in street shows. Waited (and waded) through drizzles, puddles, wind and generally unpleasant weather for the night's fireworks. They certainly were worth the wait, though. THIS IS A REMINDER FOR ME TO POST THOSE PICS. Quite proud of them, I am.

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Monday night, while waiting for my clothes to finish, I decided to try smoking a pipe - my roommate's. A few puffs convinced what an awful idea it was. Onto other avenues of experimentation.

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Haven't done hookah in a while - must remember to do it soon.