When people say something, stop and wonder why they would say something like that.
The simplest sounding sentences are rooted deep.

Realisation # 563

No matter how well you say it, someone else has said it better.

78%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?
From D's blog I found a quiz that reveals that I'm 78% addicted to blogging. Its true, I must admit. I knew it. I tried... but all I could do amounts to 22% thats how much I live. 22% !
22% with 10% of my brain. I must be genius! But these people are saying we don't use only 10% of our brain. Decide guys!

The website which has revealed the state of my condition also claims that my blog is WANTED dead or alive (?) for the SUCCULENT TORTURE of a DASHING SEA URCHIN with a price of 2300$ ooooh! even though I failed this one...

They say
There are about 2,786,280 germs on your (my) keyboard right now!
That's equivalent to the number of germs on 557 toilet seats.

But that's okay as long as my blog is


This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

• death (2x)
• sexy (1x)

Be very very careful... it's in the air these days.
your truly,
sniff sniff wipe wipe.
ps: Sexy Sharma if you still exist in the blogging world do you remember the communication skills class poem I wrote in the first year? Sniff sniff, wipe wipe ?

Of life and death yet again

Flickr is evil. First they make a very clean and organised website, link it to your yahoo email address. Then they go on and make it even more user friendly. Of course there is a catch. I'm a firm believer of the philosophy that there is always a catch. They give you a limit of 200 photos. I have reached 196. I want to click and upload more photos... I'm addicted... I... must... must... upload... aaaaaaa!

Flickr is evil. They want me to pay. Why? The photos are mine. And not some chutta paisa Rs. 1500! All the other photos are owned by other people. The bloody site runs on our photos, else who would want to randomly keep clicking a bunch of links(exceptions: self proclaimed linkophile). Why should I pay, tell me! They should be paying me for sharing my wisdom with the rest of the world. A valuable page from my journal on their site without any royalty and other such stuff I don't know much about but can profit from.

When will mankind learn to respect art and genius... and me!
Flickr is evil.

All monetary inputs, old vintage cars, heroic acts of kindness are gladly welcome.

My bank account details.

This is the dedication the new journal begins with. On the left is the postcard waiting to be sent to Razoo in Nepal.
This is a page I did to list musicians in India who play the Sarangi and Basuri for my next to trip to Landmark the mall. You can't randomly invest Rs. 350 into a cd with a man and an instrument on the cover. This is my research.A doodle for my favourite poem. Somewhere I have never travelled- e.e. cummings. You should try making a poem a doodle its tough and no way on the lines of complete but a unique imagination exercise. The image of the man looking at the girl on a bicycle is the only non consumable/ perishable material birthday gift I got this year- others included a movie show - Transformers, a dinner, entry to Birju Maharaj's Kathak production and of course free wine.
This was done at the Pondicherry stall at Dastkaar mela. Illustrations of a hammock. But they feel like today. Its a lazy Saturday.
This is my attempt at the drawing the Beatles. I did 18 faces yesterday and I think this is the closest I got to Lenon.Work in progress. For the interested, more effort visible on flickr.

I wanted to post these but have not much to say about them.
so...
signing out,
uninspired

Refill confetti in your bean bag day!

You have no idea how it feels to gently move your foot over a bed of confetti...

till of course you've done that.
the day is however only a quick make up by Chamko Rani version Fri, Sep 7, 2007.

Fame is here!

After a fantabulous weekend at the Chitrakala Parishad Dastkaar Mela -
Making illustrations for business card of Pondicherry stall man, learning beaded flowers from Uttar Pradesh stall women, posing for photographs, conversing in Dilli ki Hindi and doing Tarot readings for Dayaal the Rajasthan stall guy who gave me half his shop as fee... I have got myself a little place in 4D womans magazine's September issue.

Oh ...These kids at the festival were simply adorable. They fumbled with their performance but nothing could be more gorgeous than their shy smiles.

The 4D womans magazine article is about women bloggers and I have a little picture and quotes on blogging and my philosophy of it all. I'd like to put up the scans but it would be nice if you go pick up a copy, cut my picture and quotes out, frame them and forcibly make everyone see it. wuhahahahaha!

yours truly,
miss modest.

scans shall show up on the blog when the magazine sales have reached a few million

We may intend things to be different but the consequences whether good or bad are inevitable. There are things that can be forgiven and things that can be forgotten. I don't want to make mistakes that need to be forgotten.

happy birthday

I'm so happy I could drag a man to death today. Just because I'm happy. Yes. Do we need a real reason?

Somethings never end.

Self obsession. Bills. Nosey neighbours. Advertisements. Books like Mein Kampf. Movies like Pirates of the Caribbean. The time 3:33 following me. IITians and the Pink Floyd connection. Family discussions that contain Do as you please... To Do lists. Call-on-hold music. Doing the dishes. Cooking. Doing the dishes. Eating. Doing the dishes. Little kids knocking on doors for donations. Tarot readings that begin with Does my boy friend... or I know this guy... Nights in my house. Bold and the Beautiful. Dinner without TV or parents. Worry. The list of greedy Bangalore rickshawalas Fear. Cabbage. Wants.

I could go on, but this list is not one of those things that don't end.

just another postcard for postcrossing.

Dear Didier,

Today began at Ulsoor (1) earlier than usual, writing sleepy email of long rambles, and moved at the average speed of 8 kms per hour on cycle to Shanti Sagar for Idly without the vada, and juice (jamie the brown donut like thing in the picture is the vada.) Then snailing through Wilson Garden where the dance school is, it hit a closed door at Koramangala's Sancy laundrette(3), so a quick diversion was made to Koramangala 4th Block office (near 3) with 3.5 kgs of dirty laundry and then a misguided tour of Madiwala(4) to get back to Ulsoor (1) a tired fish on a bicycle. Once back to Ulsoor if you happened to check the Sarvajanik mail box you would find a torn envelope with my name on it. On the floor you would see a postcard split into 2, one side with the picture and one with the words and stamps. I'm sure you would go to the landlord and complain. So I did. Such foolishness in this society I tell you. Its a postcard from France with the prettiest stamps I have seen. It would be tragic to find it wet and soggy and hence split into two, but no kind of rain is capable of tearing open a brown paper envelope which says familiar at the back.
yours truly,
heartbroken.

(Jamie, sarvajanik= public in hindi)

Virgo (Aug 23 - Sep 22)

As hard as you may try to maintain clarity in communication, the poetic muse has come to visit you today. Even if you don't write poetry, your thoughts are more connected with your imagination now than they are with reality. Saying things impulsively can create problems, for your image-rich language paints a picture rather than telling a story. Don't try to force your communications into overly formal presentations. Instead just describe what you see in your mind's eye the best you can.

What arrived to my e-mail box today.

dilemma dancer

Proud owner of admission access to Attakkalari school of Movement Arts declares that she has been offered the FULL scholarship at the institute. Before reviewing and signing the contract that entitles her 2 year of compulsory work with the institution, She informed her parents of changing course which met a sad negative. " I don't know why people are so important in my Freudian parents eyes. I see the sense in the argument that states I jump around a little too much but not in the argument that says - We've been telling people you are doing graphic designing in Bangalore, now, how will we face them and reveal this bitter truth? Freudian parents because everything boils to sexual dynamics. I guess all parents think that way, some choose to blatantly reveal it, some choose to discourage and warn, others protect being aware at the same time".

A full scholarship would mean Dilemma Dancer pays nothing. Agreed that she could be a slave at their mercy at the end of it, but there is no payment now. Any information on the future prospects (monetary and other wise) of the field are welcome.

It must be told that the writer found no way to end this post but like this.

what a soul tired from
a trance feels
is bliss.

Our bliss is in our honesty,
in work that keeps us truthful.

my truth is in my loneliness,
and dance much like drawing is
only scribbling in space.

written as blood pumps its way back to my body
after my dance school audition.
I got the form but not the scholarship.
as yet.

Its Monday tears.
I want to say
beneath it all
I'm a good person
and sometimes,
more increasingly,
when I watch a film,
my stomach aches,
and I get the need to
tell someone about my life
because I'll die
and people will only know
me as the frivolous happy soul
I'm not.

Is there a song nobody has heard?
Am I here if noone knows?

Is there love left?
Is there any truth?
in us?

The Magician is a tarot character capable of tricking him/herself. Spend a day pretending to be waiting for Godot, listening to where'd you go - Fort Minor. He isn't home. But he might come today. I've got the flowers ready. The place looks tidy. Its a holiday. I'm cooking dinner now. Early. The diyas are lit. New bed spread.

I spent a day waiting for visitors. I can't have any. But I thought of the day it would be if people spent time with me.

My flatmate is coming back home for good. Problem : we have one bedroom. But we can pretend...

This post is in process

Virgo (Aug 23 - Sep 22)

Your grip on reality isn't strong today, and the harder you grab on to it, the more it slips away. The truth is like a greased watermelon; you have it one moment and then it's gone the next. Be careful now; you are in a fun house and reality is being mirrored back to you in ways that can trick you into the wrong conclusion.

Of life and death

The only phone call I got today was a wrong number for some Sohail. Its been an eventful grey day of reading people's blogs. I think I need a flatmate or a pet.

Actually,
a flatmate will do.

edit: I'm off to a farm now yeah! my 60's dreams are going to come true. But lets not live under an influence okay. Or may be from tomorrow? What do you think?

Hmm... Am I in love with this guy or not.
Lev, my love. eyelash scroll down slow.
After surviving my birthday and unknowingly posting a very cranky 500th post,
I'm here to say that there isnt much I can do about how I am feeling desperate
in life, for certainty. 21st Birthday and all huh? , well nothing... I spent the day all by myself at home (of course there is a whole school of philosophy behind it) trying to play the flute and got better as time passed. Discovered cheap (Rs.18) South Indian Mini Meal st Shanthi Sagar- 3 puris, sambar, rasam, some veggies in spicy red gravy, some coconut chutney, some beans like things, some curd, pickle, papad, some sweet yellow liquid I don't like. Took a nap, danced to the Indian Ocean album like a nun in the dark of the night. Bought myself a south cotton saree. Bought myself new headphones (One of the best things I've done to myself.) Got really drunk and stoned. Almost cried everytime someone said its my birthday(even when not drunk) Woke up to make changes and begin a routine. Received 23 emails from strangers from my sisters office whom she had blackmailed into wishing me. They were not sure if it was really my birthday. Finally figured out what the rotten smell in my kitchen was- eggs rotting with some grey slimy insects sliding on the surface.Status: disposed. desperate. drama. twitchy. low on oxygen.
your truly,
dancing doodle.

PS: We at Chamki Corp. are looking for poet dancers of the male species. Any surviving members should immediate email us. Thank you.