On The Island

2004-04-22T05:32:00.000-07:00

I've moved!!!

The madness continues at VishalPatel.COM !!!

See you there...

2003-06-29T14:17:00.000-07:00

The Indian government could make a lot of money if they turned Lucknow into a gambling city. Gamblers are by and large a superstitious lot; at Caesar's Palace, touching the snout of the of the she-wolf statue is believed to bring good luck on the table (or roulette wheel, or slot machine). So wouldn't gamblers just go bonkers over a place that literally spells Luck, Now?

Think about the amount of tourism, revenue and foreign exchange that would be generated if only the government pulled that stick out of its ass and did the only logical thing — promote Lucknow as an international gambling centre. Come, give us your money! It's more fun than sitting at home and setting flames to it!

Gambling is, however, just one part of the whole scene. Had India been undivided, we would certainly have captured another booming industry by promoting another well-known city as an world-famous prostitution capital. I'm talking, of course, about the city of Lahore.

With 100% of the gambling and prostitution markets squarely in our backyard, think of the influence India would sway at the United Nations! Still, there's no use ruminating. Lucknow is in India, and Lahore is in Pakistan, and both countries should enter into a sphere of healthy competition in terms of advertising and promoting their respective attractions.

More productive than fighting. If chiefs-of-state from either country are reading this (as is their habit), please give me some money. You're welcome.

2003-06-27T12:38:00.000-07:00

"Bhai sa'ab, time kya hua?" asked Corny.

This seemingly innocuous — indeed, painfully polite — way of asking the time did not obtain the response one might think. It was late at night, and the passerby looked at him quite strangely before replying.

"Barah baj gaya". Exactly midnight. He walked away quickly, glancing back at Corny from time to time.

Of course, it wasn't the time so much as the fact that Corny was riding piggyback on Yohan Vaid's back. The street was pretty much deserted, except for the rest of us watching from a vantage point.

Nor was this an isolated incident. Once you get them going, people are rarely eager to return to the world of sanity. Variations on the same theme were tried out for a good half-hour or so. If someone can lend me a video camera, I plan to film this the next time around.

Stupid cable services. Stupid Internet. My pathetic connections of late have led people to compare my blog with bad sex, people I care deeply about and would never wish bad sex upon. Suleiman did an admirable job of hosting a posting, without coasting or boasting, but inane rhymes do not a triumphant return make. Therefore, I advise you to check out this website. Fooled you, that last link was not really a link at all, just an underlined word. The site I want you to see is this one here.

Fooled you again.

By now you're probably fuming, laughing and yelling at the same time, causing a whole new emotion called falafeling. Only a site that is incredibly bizzare in its reality and surreal in its straight-edge marketing can save you from riding piggyback on deserted streets. Grateful are we, therefore, that there exists a market for products like this one, for what else shall we talk about over cocktails?

2003-06-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

Vishal asked me to write a "blog" entry for him. I agreed.

His reason: Lately Sonali Bendre has been camping over at his house, and he obviously has duties to fulfill with regards to her. I'm guessing he's also lazy.

My reason: I too have ceased to "blog" these days, and so i'm compensating for my crappy "blog" by making Vishal's "blog" crappy also.

So Hello then everyone. My name is Suleiman. I will be your pilot for the day. Please feel free at anypoint in this journey to ask my assistants Raghavan and Sailesh to get you anything you might desire. Of course, since R & S are fictitious there is a large probability that you can keep on desiring those 27 bars of 5 Star chocolate until you make your next trip to the banya. Speaking of banyas, does anyone remember Ashok Row Kavi going on the Simi Garewal show and calling Mahatma Gandhi a bastard banya? I do. It was damn disrespectful. But that is the double-edged sword of free speech I guess.

I understand these days that our friend Mr. Patel's "blog" has acquired something of an international flavour to it with my fellow Canadian bloggerers and some random firangs being regular visitors to it. As a result i'm assuming that you international types won't get a fair amount of the bullshit references that I might include in this (going-to-be-quite-lengthy) entry. Fear not, you can just post curious comments about them that a hopefully rejuvenated Vishal will reply to, thereby killing two of his stupid little birds with one stone.

It has only been 2 and something paragraphs and i've already run out of ideas and lost interest. It's quite pathetic really, since Vishal asked me to write something that would "start him up so that he'd never stop", and in a true RollingStonesesque fasion I seem to have lost the plot and gone on a long, drug-induced ramble about gay Mumbaikars and little shops. What will I spew out next... "Dhobi Action (I Can't Get No)" ??

The underlying principle behind all of this is that these days, most of the people I know (including myself) seem to have lost the motivation to do anything useful. And by anything, I mean everything. Look at me for example, I spent the past 2 weeks barely going to class, lying around in bed, watching the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movies, and eating. Vishal i'm sure has been chatting to various unknown women across the internet, making Maggi noodles with cheese, and going around harassing all the watchmen in the neihgbourhood in his Group X : Arabian Rap Sensation accent. These two idiots Raghavan and Sailesh, have for the past month been peeling 12 potatoes a day, on which they proceed to draw faces in felt pen, after which they take these potatoes and flush them down the toilet. As you can imagine, many areas are now lacking potatoes, and the BMC has been singeing my gotas about all these potatoes blocking the drainage pipes. In short, no one seems to want to do anything? Why try and bend a ball like Beckham, when you can sit at home and eat Aaloo Gobi instead?

I'm still not making any sense. I don't know if I ever will. In fact I don't know if i'm even supposed to, which is probably why I think Vishal ased me to "blog" for him. Now he'll look at his "blog", feel quilty for letting me fuck up his reputation, and blog frenziedly for the next 22 years. Yes I know I typed "quilty" instead of "guilty". I was going to correct the mistake when I realized that "quilty" is a much better word. It is a word that describes the feeling that you have when you're feeling very blankety.

But in sooth, tomorrow you will wake up, brush your teeth with some Cibaca (Colgate is like sooo yesterday), read the Asian Age while taking a poo, and then shower with Hammam (if you have a bath too many times using Hammam it is alleged that your skin will turn green and you will turn into some kind of lizard and run away). But then after that, when you have sat down to drink your tea (Why didn't Brooke Shields marry James Bond? Because she didn't want to become Brooke Bond) and eat your Kellogg's Prosties, you will reach a moment of realization. In one grand moment, the epiphany of all epiphanies, you will realize that you entire life is a joke and a complete waste of time, that everything you do means nothing, and that your mind actually belongs to several 20 foot tall space monkeys who look suspiciously like Indian politicians. One of these elite, mind-controlling band of monkeys is a particularly aged yet fearsome, powerful baboon who goes by the name of Bal Oon, although he is generally referred to as Balathaheb. It is his life's plan to make the whole world bowdown to something called the Chapati Shivachi. This was of course revealed to me in a dream. Ask Vishal, he too foresaw the disaster of the Chapati Shivaji, leading him to write his famous article about the future ubiquitousness of the Chapati Shivachi. He was almost destroyed for it one day, when Balathaheb's henchmen arrived at his place of work, the publication of another elite monkey - Maghavrao's Scindian Express.

But enough now of my distasteful, witty, brilliant humour. I think I have filled up enough space to make it seem like some amount of thought went into this crap. I leave you with some lines from a great song. Raghavan! Sailesh! Hit it!

"When I go to Kamat's to eat,
After i've eaten my dosas and six idlis,
And i've spilt some chutney.
Then i'm sitting here cleaning with my Rin and Surf
This damn stain won't come off.
I can't get no, oh no no no.
Arrey arrey arrey, that's what I say.

I can't get no Dhobi action,
I can't get no cleaning traction.
'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try.
I can't get no, I can't get no..."

2003-05-29T13:37:00.000-07:00

I recently fulfilled a childhood ambition well, no, not really when I did some voices for a Carmen Sandiego-esque video game. From what I gathered, the player travels back in time to the Indian freedom stuggle and gathers clues and stuff. My character was a rather violent arasonist, but I had fun doing the whole thing, especially when I had to do voices for the high-tech speaking machines.

Speaking of high-tech speaking machines, my mom gifted me her old cell phone today, having upgraded to a better model. Now, I don't really like cell phones much alright, I've called them evil tools spawned and propagated by an incestously capitalistic society and frankly speaking, I don't see myself as a cell phone kind of guy. Still, it'll provide an interesting diversion in Mahabaleshwar, should the antics of my fellow travellers be too weird / boring / smelly for my taste.

Yes, in less than four hours, I'll begin to get ready to leave for Mahabaleshwar, where a bunch of friends and I will be staying at another friends bungalow. This group of dudes is a motley crew to say the least; and a bunch of very, very strange people to say the most. I shall attempt to discover a cybercafe at the earliest, and hopefully present a short travelogue of sorts on this very page.

Watch the skies.

2003-05-28T13:03:00.000-07:00

I
Yes, yes, I know.

II
My Internet service providers, which I shall not mention here out of decency¹, became increasingly aggravating of late. Eventually, they introduced bandwidth limits... I had a mere 400 MB per month limit, which was the highest they offered they had the gall to call it the "Zoomer" account and which, at first, I figured couldn't be that bad:

"So I won't download large files... a couple of songs here and there; maybe some funny clips. Hey, the month will be over before I know it, and I'll have MBs to spare, that's how cool I am."

Apparently I'm not that cool. After a week or so of playing Quake deathmatches with my friends, I checked my account status to discover I had just 160 MB left. Needless to say, this too soon expired, passed on, and went to that great fibreoptic bandwidth in the sky. Happy ending to all this, though; after weeks of using dial-up, I think I've found a cable operator that's solid gold.

While we're on the topic, I'd also like to add something for the benefit of those guys who've never played Quake online — do it. You and your other testosteroney friends connect over the Net, meet in any one of countless maps, and blow each other to smithereens. It's brilliant.

¹I will, of course, mention them down here: It's Satyam Online. Avoid the buggers like the plague.

III
I've been acting in a play as well... a new production called Helpdesk. We had a few readings around town, and hopefully the full theatrical production will be put up soon as well. Go to this page and read the piece at the bottom of the page for a general idea, and click both here and here for different pictures of the cast in full costume. As you can see, my hair has grown quite a bit of late.

IV
Enough about me. What's new with you?

2003-04-26T23:52:00.000-07:00

I once suggested to a friend an idea for a cool invention that could help people with colds and runny noses. Nose tampons. Little things that you can just slide up your nostril. They'd absorb the stuff, leaving your nose feeling unclogged and you feeling fresh and sniffle-free. Of course, you couldn't breathe.

I had the advertisments all worked out. Can you imagine? Little cross-sections of nose profiles, with an animation that shows blue liquid being absorbed. And then a clip of a big Mexican dude with a moustache and sombrero riding a horse with these two little tampons up his nose the dude's, not the horse's, although come to think of it, the horse should have them too and going yi-yi-yi, arriba! waving his sombrero around and cavorting in the sun.

Anyway, it turns out that this isn't just a flight of fancy, and nose tampons actually do exist. My friend Nikhil who lives on the top floor of a laboratory, but that's another story just had an operation to open out a nostril that had been jammed for years, and has one up his nose as we speak. It does exactly what you'd expect — soaks up stuff and leaves him feeling fresh and free. Question is, why wasn't this thing advertised more, and whatever happened to the Mexican dude and his horse?

2003-04-19T09:29:00.000-07:00

Trying to study for these blasted exams has messed with my head quite a bit, and I find it increasingly difficult to compose my thoughts logically, coherently and hippopotamus.

This might, in part, explain my silence of late; but I thought we could talk for a moment about something I learned because this site is nothing if not educational during one of my suburban excursions. It's about something called rickshaw etiquette, something that "townies" like "me" are "apparently" ignorant "about". That last sentence was an experiment demonstrating how inverted commas can quickly become annoying. We must learn to use this power wisely.

Rickshaws, for those who've never been to Bombay, are small three-wheeled automobiles capable of carrying three passengers and one driver. They're also called ricks for short, and they're great fun to ride because they're open at the sides and there's always a chance you might fall out. They're much like camels — impossible to describe, no photograph can do them justice, and yet you know one when you see one. Cheaper than taxis, rickshaws are limited to the north of the island, the suburb of Bandra being the southmost they can aspire to.

Here we see a full-grown specimen in its natural habitat:

So if you ever find youself in a rickshaw, remember this etiquette lesson: the two people on the sides sit back, and the person in the centre leans forward. Apparently this creates more space and makes everything more comfortable. Unless maybe it's the person in the centre who sits back and the people on the sides who lean forward — I forget. So call me a barbarian.

2003-04-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

When I looked at the computer clock I realised I'd spent all night studying. Maybe it was the sunlight streaming in through the window. I walked across the room and turned on the television, and the cool breeze of the air conditioner felt good against my face.

I looked outside and saw the city unfolding up ahead. Some birds has built nests around the house, and here and there I could see them through gaps in the trees. There were buildings everywhere, and some were very tall. If I was on the terrace I might have seen some Victorian structures. From here I could just about see the ocean because of the new giant buildings that had sprung up almost overnight. In the distance, beyond the water, one could make out broad flat mountains.

The television stood out in the warm light of the room. I flicked through channels feeling both bored and hopeful about finding something good. Something on one of the channels looked like a bullfighting arena. I watched it. There were no bulls, and the stadium was empty. There were only two people, a man and a woman. The man was a dull Indian movie star and the woman was someone I had not seen before. The way she moved and sang she gave the impression of being one of those saccharine Indipop singers who show up every now and then. It was a music video.

The scene changed to a medieval Indian village and then again to the bullfight ring. The dull Indian movie star was dressed like a matador and the woman tossed him a rose. They danced foolishly on the steps of the stadium with a group of people behind them. The people who made the video had hired the entire estadio just to shoot a few seconds of their people profaning that cultural landmark. I wiped my face and wished I had some more jerez in those big leather wine bottles.

I wondered what Hemingway would have said.

2003-04-11T07:26:00.000-07:00

Made up the following joke in bed last night:

Nice shield you got there, Zeus!
This old thing? I've had it for aegis.

It cracks up the classicist in me. Incidentally, if you want to diversify the drunkard in you, I can't think of a nicer way to do it than with some sexy booze wallpaper.

2003-04-10T03:39:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon. Today we shall discuss a small song I suddenly remembered from my extreme childhood, back in that innocent time when school trips would often include building sandcastles, drinking orange squash and having class races.

This little number was often sung by one or two kids after the end of a race or any other competition. I do not know if it existed outside Bombay, or outside Cathedral School, or even outside my year. Anyway, it went something like this:

First is the worst
Second is the best
Third is the one with the hairy chest

Now, let us analyse it, in an attempt to understand what the psyche of the classroom was. First is the worst, it exclaims right at the outset, deriding whatever spartan attempts had led the winner to glory. Why? Perhaps because it serves to remind one that winning isn't everything, or that there is more to life than winning a stupid game. Alternatively, it may serve an important social function whereby the insult prevents the winner from getting too carried away by his victory, while simultaneously serving as a catharsis for those who didn't win. In any case, the winner usually doesn't care; he knows he kicked ass.

Second is the best. Now we get to the middle part of the trilogy, the real meat, the Empire Strikes Back to the first line's Star Wars. It's probably safe to say that the entire poem was made up by the kid who came second, as a biting critique of the fickle class dynamics. He proclaims for all posterity that second is the best (ostensibly because it graciously allows another the palm, the ultimate in good manners) but deep down, he's tired of coming second race after race, playing Buzz Aldrin to the class's Neil Armstrong, Jerry Lewis to the class's Dean Martin, Robin to the class's Batman.

Now for the cryptic third line, Third is the one with the hairy chest. If we must make any progress, we need to first do away with assumptions that this line is in some way metaphorical (hair provides wind resistence and slows down speed) or even archetypal (hairy, primitive man finishes last as opposed to the smooth Übermen that overtake him). We need to analyse this line in detail, for it might contain the key to the whole piece. And this is inevitably where we must fail, because whatever peculiar events gave rise to the time that line was first uttered in the primordial lunchbreak have been lost to human memory.

Personally, I think the entire poem might be a paraphrased subsitute for a more ancient verse that may have gone something like this:

First gets a medal
Second gets a coin
Third gets to touch the principal's groin

But that's just my theory.

2003-04-09T07:51:00.000-07:00

A lifelong romance with video games couldn't have chosen a more inopportune moment to manifest itself. However, for the entertainment of everyone who happens to be reading this, I shall recommend three easily downloadable games that I have amused myself with in the last 24 hours.

Indiana Jones and His Desktop Adventures
I downloaded the preview version of this, and its only about 3 MB when fully installed. It's a really cool game that LucasArts released in the mid-Nineties, as an alternative to other "desktop" games like Solitaire or Minesweeper. Like those games, it's different every time you play it, with billions of possible games. You play Indiana in 1930s Mexico (far more fun, I think, than playing Mexico in 1930s Indiana) searching for artifacts, solving puzzles and whipping enemies, with a little help from your friends. There are lots of sites you can get it online, including this place, which is where I got it.

Yoda Stories
This is basically the same game as Indiana Jones, except you're Luke Skywalker, carrying out missions for Yoda in order to become a Jedi. Everything else relates — instead of a plane you're in an X-Wing, instead of a doctor there's a medical droid, instead of a co-pilot there's R2, and so on. On the whole, I think it's that much cooler. Also, while Indy is all set in Mexico, this game features three basic planets: desert, ice and jungle; the first two unfortunately being unavailable in the demo version. Which is all meaningless to me, given the fact that despite repeated installation, it refuses to play. If anyone can figure out why, I'd be eternally grateful.

Dink Smallwood
Hahahaha. This is really funny. It's not a desktop game like the previous two, but a mere 25 MB download (80 megs after installation). A self-depracatory RPG, it's really risque, humourous and addictive, provided you aren't affected by the un-cutting-edge graphics. Personally, I think that makes it even better (at one point Dink says "Wow, this bed looks exactly like my last one", which is quite hilarious if you think about it). Also, this is the full game. The good people at RTsoft have decided to make it freeware, with "no strings attached". You can download it here, and you really should.

Go play them. Let me know what you think.

2003-04-07T07:53:00.000-07:00

My exams kicked off today with a wonderful display of crotch-grabbing anxiety. There's Samuel Johnson on courtside, giving Shakespeare the finger, further down, ah, Maud Bodkin dropping off to sleep hoping perchance to dream. And... wow! Did you see that? Jacques Derrida there, just jumped into the game confusing everybody. Can we have that on replay, Raghavan? J-a-c-q-u-e-s D-e-r-r-i-d-a t-h-e-r-e, j-u-s-t j-u-m-p-e-d i-n-t-o t-h-e g-a-m-e. And yes, that's Hans Robert Jauss bringing up the rear, looking at the audience for approval.

Given the circumstances, I think I shall be pardoned for saying that I can't get no pah pah, pow pow wow What I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, is that I can't get no pow wow wow, pah pow wow, pah pah Dammit, will you stop that! I can't get no... pow wow wow No, no, no!

Hey, hey, hey. The Rolling Stones play Bombay tonight, not 20 minutes from where I live. Even people who've never heard / of the band will probably be there. Meanwhile, I have to study for my next match. I mean, paper. At least I know I'll make the most of tonight. Otherwise I'll feel like a jackass.

2003-04-05T14:26:00.000-08:00

I invented a great game today. It's called Passing The Parsi.

You first get one of your mad bawa friends — the sane kind just won't do. Two or more players take turns in assigning him tasks, but without his knowledge. These tasks must involve him to physically move to another location, but not necessarily for him to return again.

If you're playing in a bar, for example, one player can ask him to get some beers. Another might ask him to go outside and see if a certain person is waiting there. Bawa is question must have no knowledge of any game in progress, and players are awarded one point for each task successfully completed. First one to get 10 points (or any predetermined number) wins.

I'd like to point out that game has evolved in the few hours since I first thought of it. The original version simply involved me and two quite sane Parsis pushing Vohan Yaid (name changed) around on Worli seaface. The name suggested itself.

2003-04-04T06:30:00.000-08:00

I've always wondered what I'd look like if I were a South Park character.

2003-04-03T08:28:00.000-08:00

Bombay is, of course, an extremely superficial city.

And if the media is any representation of the city's increasing superficiality, there's plenty of representation there too. We have newspapers called The Party Age and by party, let me assure you, they don't mean yours or mine and other periodicals that have 8, 12, 16 or 100 pages of Page 3.

Today, however, we sunk to new lows. We have become a nation of gerbils, people. An article on the front page of a national daily dealt with an "accident" involving former Miss World, Aishwarya Rai.

A minor fracture on the little toe of her left foot.

Front page. Headline: Injured Ash flies back to Mumbai. Little toe. Left foot. Picture of her on a stretcher, looking daintily traumatised. Related reports on pages 8, 9 and 10.

Ash prescribed bed rest reads another headline. Four cars preceded Rai's ambulance to the hospital. "As the cars drove in through the casualty, where a crowd awaited, Rai's ambulance sped in through the main entrance." She was airlifted all the way from Nashik and flown into Bombay.

"The crowd was also treated to a glimpse of Amitabh Bachchan and Akshay Kumar," reads the report.

The doctors found a minor fracture on the little toe of her left foot. Abrasions on her elbow and back were a result of falling on cacti. The Nashik superintendent of police said that a case of negligence and rash driving will be charged against the stunt master and driver of the jeep that hit the actress. Arrest is pending. "This is a minor offence, but if at all we recieve a complaint against them from Aishwarya, serious action will be taken."

Meanwhile, Aishwarya's boyfriend or ex-boyfriend, whatever, who knows what goes on with these people still walks around free. He and others of his ilk go around hitting and killing people with their cars all the time. And endorse cold drinks on TV.

2003-04-01T13:42:00.000-08:00

Online petitions, man. I come across them all the time, and they're all about really cool issues like religion, the environment and freedom of choice. It's amazing how technology can be used to bring people together from all over the world and really make a difference.

With this newfound respect for humanity, I am proud to say that I too have finally unveiled a powerful, unstoppable force. I have no doubt that it, too, will change the world. And so, without further ado, I present:

The Vishal Needs To Have More Sex Petition

Please go there and sign it. Also, it'd be great if you could also tell your friends and ~~aquantances~~ ~~aquantainces~~ people you don't even know that well to sign it too. You can make a difference. Viva la resistance.

2003-04-01T06:28:00.000-08:00

I once read a passage in a book (hereafter referred to as passage one) in which the author spoke of a passage he once read in a newspaper (hereafter refererred to as passage two). Passage two (earlier referred to as the passage the author once read) spoke about how April Fooling was started by Indian princes who played jokes on each other on that day.

A certain Prince Jehawar, for example, had his entire army charge towards a rival city. As the citizens trembled with fear, the army simply passed the city on either side, swords waving, and probably shouting "April Fool!" The author of passage one (if you're lost at this point, go out, take a walk, clear your head and return; this page will still be here) mentioned that this story didnt seem likely to him, as it didn't sound "terribly funny", not to mention that it was published on April 1.

For all those who did go out for a walk to clear their head in the middle of the second paragraph: April Fool. This page is simply not here anymore. And that Prince Jehawar story is probably true.

2003-03-31T02:23:00.000-08:00

Due to my Internet conection having been down the past couple of weeks, I've avoided the tricky situation where I end up staying online until suddenly it's 2:00 am.

Instead, I have watched episode after episode — of The Simpsons, South Park, Superman (The Animated Show), X-Men, Friends which, despite what several Bombay magazines may think, is not spelled F.R.I.E.N.D.S and various classic cartoons including Disney's Steamboat Willie, which any dandy worth his salt march on until you get that little joke knows, was the first cartoon ever with sound — until suddenly it's 5:00 am.

All this leads my mind to get as convoluted as that last sentence, not to mention making me get up very late the next day.

Which is not, as one might suspect, entirely desirable. I have exams coming up for which I really need to study. And everyone's noticed that even the most mundane activities take on a miraculous shimmer during exam time. The knowledge that you have exams coming apparently triggers off a deep appreciation for life that makes watching TV, taking a walk, sleeping, or reading a good book so much more fun.

Maybe the reason for this is deeper than just some strange quirk of life, or the happiness derived from doing something you "shouldn't". Perhaps it is at exam time that we most feel ourselves in the moment, with the knowledge of exactly how much time we have squandered away and how much we have left. A diluted feeling of imminent mortality, if you will. Isn't that what so many philosophies prescribe in order to enjoy and feel at one with the universe... to slow down and feel yourself in the moment?

Or maybe we're just self-destructive bastards who like to watch TV.

2003-03-26T13:04:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know it's been ages.

But relax, I'm not going to even attempt doing a "recap" of all things that have crossed my mind since I last wrote here. I feel pretty crappy about not writing for this long, and I am quite sure that condensing over a month into one entry won't ease my conscience.

On the other hand, Suleiman has been blogging quite frequently and, I might add, insightfully. This only furthers my theory that the number of blogs in the world are always at some sort of equilibrium. I have noticed this on numerous occasions. When this journal is updated most often, I find that those of other people tend to stay dormant.

If we can understand and harness this phenomenon, I have no doubt that it will someday lead the world into an new era of genetically-enhanced millipedes.

As that last piece of fluent bullshit might tell you, I am indeed back. And shall remain so until further notice. Of course, I have no way of personally delivering a notice to each and every one of you, which is another example of fluent bullshit in practice. Rockin'.

Elsewhere, unknown to our heroes...
I was contacted a while back by a site called GeekPhilosopher.com about including excerpts from this journal in a section of theirs called Philosopher Picks. If you'd like to check it out, click here and then click on that little red dot right in the centre of India. Depending on what travel guide you're using, that little red dot could signify either "place of historical or religious significance" or "bathroom with running water".

2003-02-17T09:25:00.000-08:00

I've really got to stop all this writing-here-just-once-a-week nonsense.

In other news, I'm worried about Vishal. He's been acting rather strange of late. It's almost like he has a split personality.

Shut up.

2003-02-08T23:29:00.000-08:00

I just spent the morning helping my friend Pinaki move heavy benches at Horniman Circle. There's going to be an exhibition and auction of artistic benches for the Kalaghoda festival, and he had to take photographs of each of the approximately-twenty benches for a brochure. Since they'd all need an identical backdrop, we needed to lug each one of them to a single place individually so he could get the shots.

This is easier said than it was done.. some of these benches were coated with tar, some had huge slabs of concrete pounded into them, some had life-size statues nailed to their backs. What I'm trying to say is that they were quite heavy.

The heaviness, however, was not as disturbing as the knowledge that a couple of these benches were pained by members of the Bombay glitterati circuit, and as such were as garish as their makers. I assume that the proceeds of this auction will go to charity, but if we end up convincing these people that they are indeed 'artistic', we might then subject the world to further such displays by them, and the pain and suffering thus caused would outbalance the 30-odd-grand this bench might fetch.

We were assaulted by the hot sun for most of the time, so we topped the job off with a bottle of cold water, which was the nicest I've ever had. My hands are bruised, torn and calloused, and I feel great.

2003-02-05T11:36:00.000-08:00

Why would anyone want to emigrate and be treated like a second-class citizen abroad, when you can be treated like a second-class citizen right here in your own country?

2003-01-31T09:34:00.000-08:00

I logged into my mailbox to see an email from a3339r3112@aol.com waiting for me. "That's strange," I said to myself, "I don't know anyone named a3339r3112." Not one who has an account at AOL, at any rate.

What was even more inexplicable was the subject of the e-mail. It very clearly stated §-The.pix_you_wanted. But I couldn't think — offhand — of any pictures I had asked anyone for in the recent past. Then again, I may have asked and forgotten. Or maybe this poor gentleman or lady, I corrected myself, not wishing to assume masculinity just because this person knew how to send e-mails properly had to send some important pictures to someone which accidentally found their way to me.

They must be important pictures; why else would they not even bother with using the time-consuming space bar? And what was the meaning of that strange ' § ' hieroglyphic in the subject? Could it be that I had unwittingly involved myself in the dark and mysterious world of the Mayan Mafia?

Unable to restrain myself, I opened the e-mail. And as the page loaded, reflected on the moral and ethical issues involved in opening a message that may not be intended for me.

Turns out it was just junk mail promoting a porn website. Who'd have thought?

2003-01-17T07:31:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine comes over last night, and soon begins talking profusely in a state that is the opposite of stone cold sober. This friend of which I speak has been known to often shoot his mouth off, using words he does not fully understand, even in stages of extreme sobriety — but this speech was something else altogether.

I, for one, couldn't make any sense of it, and suggested he type out what he was trying to say. I copy-paste this manifesto below:

my thoughts my words in my mind i feel are for making uou feel the sme,my mind is 75 percent and 5the rest is 25 percent is my aura purity in enimityinfinty.2 mall one larger jury of our whole existstance,

see what you feel hear what u say say for what is felt that is our nimbus to our existance find the path that leads forway on to tyhe cold winy cloudly rosd savance till u find the strtosphere anmd renter a dark neesinfinity which is made uop of 200 of twinkilig stars he resides thre yove won ou hsave resched nimbus rest an there forth enter a nwew style era arena bonward it begins again again and again till you become infinty infinitre ,thats all folks89897oie2w1111111111111111 2

At this point, he said he was done, but he asked me soon after to open the text file again, as he had an important addition to make:

but there is still hope for u all handikapped, helpless ofr selfish people you will reach paradise of your ownn fklavour at last .blow without breathing..

Incidentally, he insisted that he was entirely sober all throughout. I have my doubts.

2003-01-10T08:22:00.000-08:00

I'm listening to Wagner's Ride Of The Hot-Chicks-In-Metal-Bras, and feeling very bored. Thankfully, I'm at my computer, which means that rather than waste my time figuring out what to do, I can waste my time doing nothing at all.

"Nothing at all" sometimes and this is one of those times refers to doing a bunch of online quizzes. You know the kind:

Which swear word are you?
What is your true aura colour?
Which song describes your life?
Which eye are you?
What self-mutilation are you?
How can I label you?
What amusing cast moment from FotR: The Extended Edition DVD are you?

The thing about these quizzes is that once you've got your result you come from the Middle Ages. Your soul came from a time when dragons, knights, war and princesses ruled the land you also get a small graphic that publicises this fact, which you can then put up on your site so others can visit the site and maybe find out which dysfunctional Care Bear they are.

Someday, I will put up results and links of quizzes that seem worth taking. For now, I am content with the knowledge that mine is a green lightsaber. You have ultimate mastery over both the Force and the inner fight between good and evil. You are truly Jedi Master.

They found that out by asking me just four multiple-choice questions, one of which was "Where do you live?" Technology rocks.

2003-01-07T07:14:00.000-08:00

And while we're on the subject of clever punning... where else but at the University of Bombay can you come up with terms like Rolled Flake and Maal-Bharo Lights?

2003-01-05T08:20:00.000-08:00

Doesn't it bring a smile to your face when porn directors think they're being "artistic", moving their cameras in all these weird angles all over? If you're like most people, you'd tickle yourself with a peacock feather while doing a handstand on a white elephant, and wonder what these people do in their spare time.

Complicated situations have complicated answers, however, but it's highly likely that these people get together and come up with names for these movies they've put together. I talk about this now — mere months after the entry on porn star names — to preserve continuity and cohesion. Actually, I came across a list of titles today; let's look at them, shall we?

The Sexorcist; Glad He Ate Her; Natural Porn Thrillers; Thighs Wide Slut; Position Impossible; Cliffbanger; Shaving Ryan's Privates; Schindler's Fist; Enter The Drag Queen; Joe Black's Meat; Reservoir Dongs; The Good, The Bad & The Orgy; A Star Is Porn; Labiarinth; A Clockwork Orgy; Clitty Clitty Gang Bang; The Wedding Swinger; In Diana Jones' Temple Of Womb; XXX-Men

and um, well...

Fiddler On The Roof

There's really nothing one can say after that, is there? So let's make up some of our own; how hard can it be? 10 points to whoever spots the needlessly vulgar pun in that last sentence. 20 points to everyone else.

2003-01-04T06:42:00.000-08:00

So I finally met one of them crazy MAH2 people. Jaya was in town for a day or so, and I happened to be in that particular side of the city that night. Which works out very well, because random trips to Powai are not my idea of a ball-bustin' good time.

Margaret Addison Hall, Floor 2, is on the second floor of Margaret Addison Hall, which is somewhere in the University of Toronto, Canada. Suleiman had sent a very cool poster with her, and I am still undecided about where to put it up.

This exchange of goods happened around 8:30 pm, outside the IIT campus. To make it look like even more of an illegal exchange, I gave her a brown paper package containing presents for certain people.

So kindly rest in peace; your gifts are on their way. They have also been labelled so you can tell what is for whom. Please share and don't make me come up there and go medieval on you.

I'm going to go drink now.

2003-01-03T03:16:00.000-08:00

One part of my past continually returns to haunt me.

It was an article I did, more than a year ago, for a newspaper. The government had just gone ahead with another stupid, pointless and borderline-fascist descision. I voiced my opinions on the absurdity of the situation by writing a small piece dripping with humour of the darkest kind, set in a grimly surreal future.

My personal feelings on the article are still mediocre... I'm quite sure I've written much better. But for some reason, it became a hit, not to mention the fact that it pissed the local government off to the point of violence. Soon, people were sending snippets of the article in to other newspapers, attributing it to themselves. Message boards on the Internet grew up around this one short story. My name didn't show up on any of these either, but I have the original newsprint to prove it.

I thought I'd seen the last of it ages ago, but every now and then I see it surface, in forwarded messages and bulletin boards. It's like it has a life of its own, and the damn thing refuses to die.

Yesterday, I was over at Irshad's place, when I saw a text file on his computer that had a, well, familiar name. Sure enough, it was my story, and he had no idea. For a moment, I felt proud again, ecstatic at the fact that my creation had found its way, of its own accord, into a friend's computer. There was no mention of my name, though, which once again sullied my mood.

Ars Gratia Artis? Not bloody likely.

2003-01-01T10:16:00.000-08:00

Do you know how difficult it is to write something in a journal on New Year's Day? Part of you wants it to be something profound, perhaps symbolic, and the other part of you is flirting with the party of the first part, which in this contract shall be known as the party of the first part...

Sorry. That Marx Brothers line just popped into my head. What I meant to say is that another part of you wants it to be just another entry, that happens to be at the start of a whole new year.

Try as one may, one can never figure out just what to write. "One" in this case, refers to me, although there's a possibility that you may be one two. What does one have to say about all this?

Juan says:
Last night, Vishal went to a friend's house where a couple of other people had also gone to celebrate New Year's Eve. They waited till well beyond midnight, but Eve refused to show up. When Vishal got home, he quelled his sleepiness by watching Ice Age, which he had never watched before. Vishal has also just discovered the joys and advantages of writing in the third person.

2002-12-31T05:24:00.000-08:00

At every New Year's Eve party, there will be some people who, after 11:59:45 pm, will start grinning, waving and shaking hands foolishly and profusely. These peeps will also likely be sprouting pearls such as "see you next year!" much to the annoyance of those who, as children, didn't repeatedly bang their heads against a wall.

There is hope, however, Here's how you might deal with them: As soon as someone says something like that, slap them. Then go away. Return after five minutes and talk to them like nothing happened. Sooner or later, they will inquire as to the nature of the slap. At which point you simply smile and say "But that was last year.

This public service announcement was brought to you by The Letter Z. When you're sleeping, you can trust The Letter Z.

I watched the latest Bond movie a few days ago, and it was better than one would expect. I always believed that James Bond was a uniquely '60s character, and unless you're going to make the movies with the same outrageousness that characterised the early movies, there was no point. You can't make a politically correct Bond. You can't make a realistic Bond movie. And yet, this is what they'd been doing all through the '80s and '90s. But Die Another Day is true to the classic spirit, and also has tons of hidden references. Go see it.

Another thing that had been eating me forever was the fact that I, self-confessed comics fan, had missed seeing Spider-Man. Wanting to see it this year at least, I went and bought the VCD and watched it last night, even though it was in not-widescreen format. I do not regret this. What a movie.

Suddenly...

Top Drinking Buddies Of All Time

#1) Michael Reichmann: With who else can you start drinking at 3:00 am, wake up in the wee hours of the morning, and then find yourself at Bombay Central station at 6:30 in the morning, still pissed drunk?

#2) Chris Peters: For having a cast iron stomach, for understanding the nuances of "Whazzzaaap?", and for always knowing which drinking customs prevent seven years of bad sex.

This was intended to be a top ten list, but no one else comes close. If you ever need a drinking partner for any occasion, look no further: these are your guys. Neither of them live anywhere near me, which is just as well.

2002-12-30T09:28:00.000-08:00

"A man who will lie about the weather will lie about anything."

Just a line that randomly presented itself in my head while chatting with a friend. It sounds vaguely Oscar Wilde-ish, and given the current weather situation, seems quite apt. Thing is, it rained in Bombay today.

Now, if you know anything about tropical weather, you'd realise that this is just not done. It's dreadfully bad manners on the part of the rain to drop in unannounced this way. It's expected to drizzle, pour, sprinkle, pitter-patter, shower down and everything else during certain months of the year set aside for expressly this purpose. And if this paragraph sounded a little too Victorian, an explanation is due.

Apparently and I say "apparently" to mask the fact that decisions have been made without my knowledge we're putting up The Importance Of Being Earnest by the end of January. Back to the weather.

It's also been incredibly cold these past few days. Some people reading this may equate the word cold with sub-zero temperatures, so let's do away with those ideas swiftly and efficiently. It's cold by Bombay standards, which works out very well because most people living in Bombay have bodies that respond to Bombay standards, due to the fact that they've lived in Bombay for some time. Could I say the word 'Bombay' one more time? Apparently.

If you must know, temperatures have reached as low as 16° C (approximately FuckKnows° F), which is enough to make quite a few people shiver. I'm one of them.

2002-12-29T10:27:00.000-08:00

A belated Merry Christmas, and a prelated Happy New Year. A strange restlessness prevents me from writing much, so here's an interesting piece of news pulled from cnn.com that's sure to bring a smile, a smirk, or at least a weird expression of some sort to everyone's faces this holiday season.

NEW DELHI, India (CNN) -- Maybe we can attribute all those Elvis sightings to reincarnation.

In one small town in the Indian state of Karnataka, a picture of Elvis Presley hangs beside pictures of Hindu gods in a temple, according to a report in India Today magazine.

The faithful reportedly come to worship Elvis just like the other deities. The rock 'n' roll singer died in 1977.

The temple is attached to the home of a man who published a booklet last year under Elvis' name, entitled "Why my daughter married Michael Jackson."

Abovementioned restlessness has taken me over again, so I shall retreat to a thermos flask of chocolate milk (filled with, not made from). Meet me tommorow at midnight, under the big clock. And wear something nice.

2002-12-22T06:37:00.000-08:00

A while back, I came across something on the Net called "benefits of sex" or something. It was a list of points about how sex helps burn calories, makes your skin glow, cures depression, ends child labour in Bamboölistan and unblocks stuffy noses.

It's something everyone's probably received as a forwarded e-mail at some point okay, fine, I made that Bamboölistan thing up but it gets me every time. It makes me want to ask,

What's your point?

Like reading that list is gonna suddenly make people go, "Hey, I need to get me some action too!" I mean, there could be absolutely zero benefits to it, and people will still be having as much as they can. You don't need to convince them. You know why? Because it's fun.

What did they think, people would just be sitting around going, "Nah, I don't like it all that much. I'll just sit around here twiddling my thumbs and creating origami underwear. What's that? You say sex helps cure hayfever? Wow, since you put it that way, bring out the whipped cream!"

It boggles the mind.

2002-12-12T08:32:00.000-08:00

I've been all alone at home for the last couple of days, with my mom being out of town and the maid being on leave. "Here's some emergency money," I was told. "Don't go and spend it on stupid things."

The next day, I was sitting around when suddenly watermelons entered my mind. "Life would be good right now," I deduced, "If I had a watermelon". Once I get these ideas into my head, there's no way of getting them out, so I was screwed. I had to get me a watermelon.

So I walked on down to the fruit-vendor, and picked up the biggest, juiciest watermelon he had. "Now we're talking," I said to myself at home, slicing the watermelon in half. I then sliced that half into quarters, and one of those quarters in half again. "Shit," I said to myself, in case I hadn't grasped the situation, "that's a lot of melon".

The first few bites were ecstatic. The taste, the colour, the feel was just like I imagined. But after the first five minutes, I hated everything about it. The wetness, the coldness, the seeds. I managed to gulp down another quarter later, and palm off one more on Ranjit, but I still had over half a bloody huge watermelon reclining in the fridge. I had to get rid off it before my mom returned.

I packed it up in a plastic bag last night, and walked in the direction of a party I had to attend. It was the worst possible time to be carrying something as daft as a watermelon in a plastic bag, because just outside my building was a group of about 20 or 30 women, hot as can be. Some wore Santa hats, some carried guitars. As I checked them out, one of them came up to me and said, "Hi... would you like to donate some money? It's for a good cause!"

"I don't really have any money," I smiled, "But I do have this watermelon..."

2002-12-11T06:29:00.000-08:00

Hold your breath: On The Island has been featured in a magazine.

It's a Delhi periodical called Cityinfo Delhi, and the article is a feature on web logs. The writer is an intelligent and beautiful woman that it has been my pleasure to know and accept lifts home with, and she only just told me about this.

She says that some facts have been "twisted for her benefit". Unless, of course, I really am... well, you'll see. Either way, I can't wait to get my hands on a copy of the magazine.

Due to this wonderful medium called the Internet, you too can read this article by going to their online edition. Click here and you'll be transported there, almost like magic.

2002-12-10T09:29:00.000-08:00

I don't use site tracking as of now, and therefore have little idea as to what kind of search engine referrals send people to my site. If I did, it might well be a lot of fun, because several people have found people coming to their site looking for the strangest things.

Even so, let's take a look at what sort of Google queries result in this site showing up first, shall we?

Ah, here we go. A quick sample.

xylophone himalayas

gandfarzan

ambigous home-made misleading digital pornography

icky wicky plum plum

arsegremlin

dead snake on campus

scandinavian ice tea

great cosmic puke

poignant commentaries on human existence

It's all you need to remind you that we're running a classy operation here, folks.

2002-12-08T02:53:00.000-08:00

Just think:

Episode IV: A New Wav

Episode V: The MP3 Strikes Back

Episode VI: Return Of The Midi

This is the kind of shite one comes up with when one has late-night conversations with Ranjit online. For those interested in knowing the creative processes involved in producing crap like this, The Empeethree Strikes Back was the first thing my fevered brain came up with, followed soon by A New Wav.

Return Of The Midi came much later, a sudden insight that arose only as a result of much prodding. With that in place, however, one can imagine a cohesive story here:

"For a thousand generations, the Midi Files were the guardians of music throughout the galaxy. Before the dark times. Before the MP3" — Obi-Wan Kenobps

I'm guessing that only Star Wars ~~geeks~~ fans will find this funny, but one also hopes that the clever wordplay will make dedicated punsters bash their heads in a why-didn't-I-think-of-that kind of way.

Or not, as the case may be. In the meantime, let's try come up with a plotline to tie these titles together.

2002-12-05T08:58:00.000-08:00

Everyone who enjoyed the sophisticated humour of yourethemannowdog.com — you know who you are — will especially enjoy this site. Then again, Suleiman, there is the offchance that you're the only other person who will find this amusing.

Also, don't bother going to the first link. It's gone offline, although how a website with such exhaustive content could do that is beyond me.

Keptenn, Keptenn! The Wingons are wattacking!
You know what to do. Dawg.

And while we're on the topic of something completely unrelated, let's deal with Tuesday's posts. In between head-shaking and mumblings of what the hell was I what the hell was I thinking? thinking, I figured out that the only reason for that experiment was so I could try out the "a few hours earlier" idea I came up with.

I've picked up a rather bad cold. Don't everybody worry at once.

Stupid Internet pop-ups. Do I look like I'd want to set my homepage to http://searchwww.com???

2002-12-03T05:06:00.000-08:00

Ignore previous entry.

2002-12-02T23:02:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, December 03, 2002... a few hours earlier

I've never really blogged more than once a day. And just for that, today I shall.

2002-12-01T08:35:00.000-08:00

Just got back from watching a play at the National Centre for the Performing Arts. This was the first play of a festival that will continue for the next two weeks, and was filled with people for whom going to the theatre was just another social occasion. You know the kind.

Of course, there were cool people too, but the woman who introduced and emceed the whole function — the classically pretentious sort so common on the Bombay theatre scene — was so godawfully annoying that I couldn't believe anyone could actually listen to her. She went on and on in an incredibly put-on accent can you say "thieh-ta" 25 times? and spoke with a placidly boring tone usually found only in finishing schools and Miss India contests.

Aforementioned accent was also of the kind that can't decide whether it wants to sound British or American, and ends up sounding sillier than either could ever be.

The play itself — an experimental piece without any real storyline — was interesting. I didn't understand a word of it, though, since it was entirely in Manipuri. I can almost see certain university students cracking up as they read that. To the rest of you, I shall explain that at a later date.

Anyway, one didn't really need to understand the words to enjoy this play... it was basically about the different seasons, and had lots of great visuals and dance sequences and songs woven into it. My attention wandered a couple of times, but on the whole... very nice.

2002-11-30T09:32:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing that pisses me off, it's people who incessantly pepper their chats and e-mails with words and phrases like gr8 and wat u up 2. You know what I'm talking about... these irritatingly synthetic abbreviations that crop up all over, no doubt because the user decided one day that it was "cute".

It is — as far as my experience has shown — more common in Bombay than anywhere else; and 99% of the time, unfortunately, it is women who use it. I'm still undecided as to which aspect of it I find most irritating. Perhaps it's the diabetically fake sweetness it exudes; or maybe it's the fact that it reflects a complete lack of cohesion or intelligent thought. Both of which remind me of the increasing airheadedness of the general public around here.

Or perhaps it's much more personal than that. I mean, if the other person can't be bothered to type a couple more characters on the keyboard, it just shows that they don't give enough value to what they're saying.

Am I ranting and raving? Yes? Good. Because it really gets me when someone asks me a question by simply typing "y?"

SMS is one area where such brevity is understandable, because it really is a bitch to type out entire sentences on phone keys. But now these crazy people have taken their bastardised shorthand and spread it into chatrooms, online messengers and even e-mails. I was once sent an incredibly long mail from a girl I knew, and spent the better part of 15 minutes trying to figure out what she meant to say. What the fuck is that all about?

And why? Why must people do this? What sane person would deliberately massacre their speech... all for the sake of seeming "trendy"? It certainly can't be for ease and speed... because one could just as easily have typed written "great" in the time it takes move your finger up to where the numbers are, and type "gr8".

Words are more powerful than people like these seem to understand, and I'd suppose this is even more true online, when the only communication you have with the other person is ahem textual. If you can recall coming across any particularly irritating abbreviations, let me know. I think I shall start a collection.

2002-11-29T06:38:00.000-08:00

"For some strange reason," I said, "I don't feel like opening myself up today."But if I type in third-person narrative, maybe my conscious mind will be fooled into thinking I'm not really saying anything." I paused, then wrote again, "Not that I am, anyway."

By the power of Grayskull... I have the power!!!

No, that wasn't me "raising aloft my magic sword"... I've recently been downloading lots of episodes of the new He-Man and the Masters of the Universe cartoon show, and it's really, really cool. The animation is excellent, especially in the battle scenes. It's more realistic in that Prince Adam is a much smaller guy than he is as He-Man, and Cringer / Battle-Cat doesn't talk.

Grayskull looks awesome, the Sorceress has a whole Egyptian thing going for her, and lots of character details make the stories more complex. Not to mention that watching it brought back quite a few memories. A really good site to check out pictures and stuff from the show is this one right here.

They've also come out with a whole new line of really sexy action figures for the series. Since the characters look basically the same as they looked in the old 1980s cartoon, these are what the figures should have looked like, rather than the "same body + different colour + different head" format we were stuck with back then. Go to the official site to see the new line.

Did someone say "cool toys"? I just got my hands on an incredible looking Spider-Man figure. It comes with a gargoyle and can be mounted on a wall. It's got over 30 points of articulation, meaning it looks obscenely realistic. Even the fingers move! And yes, you can see what it looks like by going to this place and clicking on the first of four pictures.

2002-11-24T08:56:00.000-08:00

Put on the news. Terrorist attack on a temple in Jammu.

Damn this bullshit.

2002-11-22T06:22:00.000-08:00

I really dig dressing up in formals. Just last week, I put on my best secret agent attire to go to Anosh's sister's wedding. Before I left, I walked around my house looking supercool in my blazer and formal pants, and I kept pulling out my imaginary Walther PPK to shoot at an imaginary screen that soon turned a shade of imaginary red.

Took some video captures with the webcam, but it was night and the cam doesn't work too well in artificial light. "The graininess adds to the espionage effect," I tell myself, making me feel marginally better.

Anosh, of course, now has his own room for the first time in his life, and is ecstatic about it. After a lifetime of sharing a room with his older sister, it's now all his, and hopefully will soon start to look more, well, like a guy's room. He's also finally got cable internet this week, so it's not a stretch to say that he's probably as happy as a nappy. What does that mean, anyway?

Tonight, once again, I shall don 007 attire and head for Corny's sister's wedding, making this the second bawa function I'll be going to within a week. Last one had exceptional food (crunchy chicken, lasagna and mousse) and music (jazz), while this one will have great ambience (mango leaves instead of plates; Corny deejaying like a maniac).

2002-11-21T09:10:00.000-08:00

Sabharwal and I were at a birthday party recently, and we came to the conclusion that the coolest place to hang out during a bash is in the kitchen.

You can still hear the loud music, but you can also talk comfortably. There's ample room to sit, stand and move about. You're right next to the supply of booze, so even if you've drunk all you can without spilling your guts physically and emotionally, you can impress visitors with your bartending skills.

Also, the kitchen is the place to get to know the most diverse kinds of people. I met fans of Heavy Metal, Death Metal, Thrash Metal, Smash Metal, Flash Metal, Clash Metal, Lash Metal, Slash Metal, Rash Metal, Trash Metal, Dash Metal, Bash Metal, Splash Metal, Gnash Metal, Brash Metal, Gash Metal, Cache Metal.

Still, it was a great party. I really enjoyed myself.

I just deleted a whole lot about me dressing up in a blazer to go to a formal event earlier this week, because I have decided to write about that at a later date. This later date shall be tommorow, just before I leave for another one. In this manner, I shall combine these two separate events into one artistic whole. Actually, I just don't feel like typing anymore.

2002-11-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

The boys' hostel on campus has a new resident — Ajeeth. I still have to check out his room, but I believe it'll be pretty nice. In any case, the aesthetics are unimportant to what I am about to say.

We were sitting around the lecture complex which could also be a psychoanalytical term for unnatural attraction towards classes when both I and the person next to me — I forget who it was — felt it might be nice if we had a couple of beers maybe. Now, consumption of alcohol while in an educational institution is prohibited under Section 116 and 117 of the Bombay Police Act of 1951. Yes, I did take the trouble to find that out.

Now I'm thinking. We could use Ajeeth's room to store alcohol. And while we're at it, why not sell some too, and turn a decent profit? Even better, we could convert the entire room into a place where students can drop in and have a drink or two; you know, at just slightly above market rate. We could call it the Snakedance Bar, and it'd be like those Speakeasys they had in Chicago during the Prohibition of the 1930s.

"Why do you get to call it the Snakedance Bar?"
"Because it's my idea."

Soon after our illicit bootlegging venture makes us powerful, we could expand into a syndicate. Think about it: Snakedance Bars all over campuses in Bombay. All over the world, even. We're on to something good here.

And why stop there? You wanna take a nap in the middle of the day? We can put you up. You want a place to just lay low for a while? Come on over. You want a place where you'll be massaged by a dozen beautiful ladies while they rub strawberries into your hair? Um... we'll let you know.

2002-11-13T06:27:00.000-08:00

And while we're talking about the univ...

They have a pretty crappy website, which I visited recently to see what changes those crazy blokes had made. They've played with the design a bit, but it's basically still crappy. Which is a pity, because the univ isn't quite as messed up as the site would lead one to think. It is to avoid such misinterpretation that I have decided not to link it here.¹

Anyway, the website is full of the kind of pompous hyperbole one would expect, but there's one paragraph I found that's particularly interesting. I reproduce it below. It's been copy-pasted exactly the way it was, and I think it speaks for itself. People familiar with bureaucracy will find it particularly funny:

Internet

The University has always been keeping pace with the time and it has made efforts to keep itself equipped with the latest information technology . As a part of the first phase of this project , the University has been connected with the Global Information Network i.e. Internet. The Internet connection is provided by the VSNL. The facility of Local Area Network (LAN) is now available to all the University Departments located at the Vidyanagari Campus. The Internet connectivity has enabled the University to make its presence felt even more in the international academic community. The Internet allows the users to retrieve information from the World Wide Web.

I really don't know which part of that I find funniest. They truly have outdone themselves this time.

¹but I will link it here: www.mu.ac.in

2002-11-12T08:30:00.000-08:00

That reminds me, I need to get my railway pass renewed. What reminds me? I don't know. I was in the middle of some train of thought when it reminded me. Train of thought. Heh. How's that for an unintentional but only mildly amusing play on words?

Let's have a big round of applause for those brave Economics students, shall we? For those not in the know, almost the entire Eco class flunked last year in some way or the other — either outright, or because they signed a "declaration" that stated that they'd give the exam again if they got below XX %.

The profuse use of X marks on this journal is starting to bother me.

So yes, back to the Eco students. Boy, they're something else, aren't they, folks? I've seen them diligently going to the library the past few months. They spend hours there, taking time out only to walk around the campus doing stupid things.

See, the beauty of the crazy system at Bombay University is this: even if you failed a year, you can still go on to the next year. All you have to do is give the exam you ducked in during a preset time the next year. Which basically means that you can be a second-year Masters student without knowing squat about the previous year's curriculum.

This exam of which the previous paragraph spoke is sometime soon. Let's wish them all the best, shall we? Yes, we shall.

2002-11-11T10:07:00.000-08:00

Right. So all telephone numbers in Bombay are going to change, as of... yesterday. Apparently the seven-digit numbers didn't make the government writhe with ecstasy, so they decided to introduce eight-digit ones. Thankfully, this extra digit will simply be a 2 in front of your existing number.

To make it look less intimidating, I think they'll be writing it with a dash after 2. So if your phone number was XXX-XXXX which it well might be if you worked for one of those phone lines it would now be 2-XXX-XXXX. That's not so bad, is it?

I must say though, I'm quite happy that the preceding number is a 2. It's such a nice, happy, friendly number. I could grow to love that 2. I really could.

I think subscribers of alternate phone companies — not the all-pervasive MTNL — get a 5 before their numbers, but 5 just isn't cool enough. Would you like a droid named R5-D5? I think not. Would you like a trip to Timbukfive? Okay, bad example.

Although the papers said the new numbers came into effect yesterday, I've still been dialing the old seven-digits without any trouble. Maybe they'll both work for some time. Who knows what goes on at that telephone exchange?

Classes at the univ started again today. Was too late for my first one; the next two were called off. Tomorrow is a brand new day.

2002-11-09T13:47:00.000-08:00

Time to blog.

Actually, it's the time I should be fast asleep. Happily. Dreaming dreams no mortal cared to dream before. Not too much to ask, is it? But my body has issues with sleep.

I'm not sure when and where exactly my sleep pattern changed from being a wonderful mechanism that rejuvenates me; into a malicious bastard that looks to spite me every chance it gets.

This, briefly, is how it works. If I sleep at an ungodly hour, my body is ecstatic and sleeps just fine. However, eight or nine hours later, I wake up late, sleepy and generally messed up. Which leads me to think... Hey, if I sleep earlier, I'd get more sleep and also wake up earlier. That's perfect!

Not so.

Let's say I sleep at 11:00 pm. It's wonderful. I'm in a deep, deep sleep. When I awake from this deep, deep sleep, my body just knows that it's only a couple of hours to dawn. No problem, I say to myself... I'll fall asleep again soon enough. Then I put on the light to see what time it is. 5:00 am, maybe? 5:30? I check the clock.

12:30 am.

Of course, since my body's decided that it's morning, I feel no sleepiness at all. So when it really gets to be near dawn, I crash. I have now slept later than ever, and thus woken up later than ever, more messed up than ever. Thereby screwing my sleep cycle even further.

Salvation came in the form of chocolate milk, which it was suggested I drink a hot mug of before sleeping. For the past few days, I have slept midightish and woken up at about 9:00 am. Tonight, I tried sleeping at 10:30 pm. Since it's now one of the ungodly hours of night previously mentioned, I figure you can guess how this story ends out.

My circadian rhythms are more like staccatos.

2002-11-04T10:18:00.000-08:00

Happy Diwali and a belated Hallo Happyween.

If you've ever been walking with me merrily as we skip through the forest talking of bunnies and sunflowers chances are that you've heard me shout "Hey arsegremlin gandfarzan!" or some other such jocular term of abuse. At this point, most likely, you'd have stopped in your tracks hello, little bunny, how are you? and said:

"Wow, Vishal, how do you come up with such poignant commentaries on human existence? I, too, wish to learn to swear as you do!"

The basic technique is simple enough: building upon such established phrases like lundfakir and chuthlassi, I use that same template to create new insults. The resulting phrases are vulgar enough to qualify as invective, yet the surreal imagery they invoke make them humourous enough to use on close friends, and also pets.

However, I have now developed an easy-to-use kit whereby you can easily create your own Vishalesque swear words, based on terms I have already used before with great success. All you need to do is take one word from the list on the left, and prefix it to another word from the list on the right.

pick one
chuth
cunt
bhindi
arse
lund
gand
gota
shit
jhat
lauda and add
kofta
falooda
maharaj
vakeel
gremlin
farzan
fakir
canary
lassi
phataka

Someday, I shall come up with a simpler and more intuitive version of the kit. For now, remember the the secret is in avoiding the obvious suffix and going for something that one wouldn't expect.

I'd like to mention that my list of "root words" has also been made somewhat richer by the addition of phrases by Suleiman. Also, if you like, you can try taking more than one word from either list. But I personally feel that doing so would detract from its original, elegant beauty.

Never before has it been this easy to talk so cool. Now, the power is yours to share. I know you'll do great.

2002-11-02T09:53:00.000-08:00

Part of Zen meditation involves concentrating on inexplicable statements and questions, such as "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" The purpose of such exercises is not to arrive at any sort of answer, but to clear your mind of all thought. Those who feel they must attain Nirvana by the weekend's end, however, might be better advised to meditate upon an even deeper question that has been troubling me of late —

What would happen if one were to mix equal amounts of vodka and coffee? The coffee works to perk you up, the vodka to slow you down. By equal amounts, one means exactly enough coffee to give you +x perkiness with enough vodka to give you -x drowsiness. Would the two cancel each other out? Or would you feel at once both perky and drowsy? Or would it be like what happens when matter and antimatter collide?

Like I have said before, this is a meditative exercise. Not an experiment. Do not attempt to arrive at an answer through practical demonstrations. The last thing we need is great cosmic Puke.

On second thoughts, go ahead and experiment. Who am I to stand in the way of the relentless march of science?

2002-11-01T10:00:00.000-08:00

Cab drivers open up to me like I'm their long-lost friend. But that is a story for another time.

Met up with Rehana at the Sundance Restaurant for lunch. By the time I got there, she was already halfway through a Ninja Turtle burger they named it in the early '90s to cash in on the fad, I bet which was chicken, so I ordered a steak burger just to prove to myself how testosteroney I could be.

It's hard to be that testosteroney, however, when the burger is in the shape of a turtle. So I did what any guy would do: I first bit off the head ha ha ha, let's see you win that race now and then each limb one by one, before plunging in to what turned out to be a surprisingly good meal.

A few hours later saw me at Vile Parle, where I borrowed a book on Peter Sellers from my uncle. My mom's doing a new play which opens soon, so I went to watch the rehearsal in Bandra. It was really really funny and quite quite serious at the same time. I can't wait to see it on stage.

Ranjit is downloading The Empire Strikes Back. I will download Return Of The Jedi, and we shall watch them both. Have I mentioned I have holidays on?

2002-10-31T10:28:00.000-08:00

To sleep, perchance to mumble crap your friends can make fun of later. Everyone has that crazy gene that lets you linger in that half-dreaming state for some time before and after the actual sleep; and if you're lucky, you can catch some people being quite vocal with their thoughts.

Point is, it's also possible to have some great insights and artistic ideas at times like these. The only trouble is that if you somehow manage to recognise the half-sleep for what it is and shake out of it, you'll probably forget what it was that you were thinking of. And even if you remember, you'd still have broken the train of thought, leaving you with an incomplete and incomprehensible aksdgaksgasdast.

Even so, I recognised some weird poetic lines coming through some time ago, and I quickly got up and wrote them out. I only managed to write down a couple of lines, but they're pure subconscious. I find that very cool. A few days later, I caught another line, and I just slapped it after the first two. The result:

I was walking around until I got assorted
Shaking red tentacles and vodka shots
The power of the litter

Hey, here's a thought: If you ever feel one of these bizzare images / words / sentences pushing their way through into your sleeping mind, try and write them down. By combining them all, I figure we can come up with a real masterpiece of collective unconscious in record time. How cool would that be?

2002-10-29T10:24:00.000-08:00

You think you know bureaucracy? Red tape, even? It's nothing compared to what the University of Bombay can throw at you. Nothing.

It's nothing new, of course. I remember paying several visits to faceless offices with friends in desperate attempts to scavenge a form or a signature here and there. But today I came across rules that stated that certain forms are only issued during certain months of the year. And certain procedures have a three-week waiting period. And also, certain documents require you to strip naked and tickle a shy rhinoceros with two-and-a-half peacock feathers.

Yes, I obviously made the last one up. Everyone knows that if a rhinoceros is given to shyness, feathered nudity isn't going to open him up. These things take time.

Even more distressing than my sense of humour is the fact that I have still been unable to find all the money I received in envelopes on my birthday. At first I attributed it to the mess my room was in, but as I excavated layer upon layer, I found myself more and more concerned. Among other things, I need the money to attend to the pressing matter of buying blank CDs. My 40 GB hard drive is literally full.

But it couldn't be fuller in a nicer way. I just downloaded and watched Star Wars. I expected it to be a halfass fullscreen version like the Indiana Jones movies I downloaded, seeing as the original trilogy has never been released on DVD. Surprised pleasantly, I was. I don't know what it was ripped from, but I now have the movie in all its magnificent, obscenely widescreen splendour.

Posso pensare a nessun buon senso concludere questo, in modo da lo tradurrò semplicemente in altra lingua. Quello dovrebbe essere buono.

2002-10-23T11:47:00.000-07:00

So I decided to add an image below the main title animation. I know of at least two weblogs now that have this, and I figured it could quite possibly be a good idea. I'm thinking maybe I could set it to change every now and then, or something, but for now this is about it.

On a different note possibly an A Major to the above paragraph's B Flat Minor, I've been trying to look at life through the eyes of a tourist. What's cool about this otherwise-pretentious statement is that I'm experiencing a lot of things as if for the first time. I walked around Bandra / Santacruz / Khar a few days ago. And just yesterday, I hung around in Powai. I plan to hit Mazgaon sometime in the next few days. Why am I doing this? Who knows?

And if someone does know, would they pay for my travel expenses too?

Meanwhile, back in Metropolis...
I've been going for a lot of movies lately, having in the past week seen both Road To Perdition and Lilo & Stitch. I also finally watched a DivX I had of Murder By Death, a superb movie with Peter Sellers, David Niven and Alec Guinness, among others. It had more humour than the amount of wood a woodchuck could chuck. Provided, of course, that a woodchuck could chuck wood. Of course.

2002-10-22T10:58:00.000-07:00

Man, I'm sleepy. So very sleepy. So sleepy, in fact, that I can scarcely remember what it was that I was going to write about here in the first place. My apologies to you, and rest assured that when I do remember, I shall personally phone each and every one of you in the middle of the night which is not 00:00 am, as one might expect, but more like 2:00 or 3:00 am; don't ask me why and explain it to you in every vibrant detail.

More importantly, though, I'd like to inform you that Sul has his blog running again, with a spankin' new look and everything. Click on his name on the left, or just click here if you've read this far and are wondering whether it would be wise to move your mouse cursor all the way over to the left. For the really lazy, you could just wait till the end of this sentence and finally click here.

I had a long Gröûp X-ish chat with him, and I wanted to just paste over here the part where he asked me to write about his blog being back up. I closed the window, however, and I no longer have that cool software I once had that automatically archived MSN chats. You can read a portion of the conversation on his site, though.

Suleiman, of course, is pretty much directly responsible for the setting up of this journal, so now you know where to forward all those Molotov cocktails I keep rejecting under the grounds that "I'm driving". He currently resides in a place called MAH2, which is apparently the centre of the blogging universe. Rispeckk.

2002-10-18T10:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was definitely not beatnik.

Enough about that. My sense of humour seems to have become extremely warped with all the heat, as may be witnessed from the following dialogue I had quite a number of times today. For the sake of convenience, we shall refer to me as "me", and the other person as "other person".

Me: Have you heard they opened a new nightclub in town? It's called Amnesia.
Other person: Really? Where is it?
Me: I forgot.

And to think I came up with that all by myself. Hallelujah!

2002-10-17T07:39:00.000-07:00

I went for a Durga Puja lunch not long ago. It was really great, with some pretty kick-ass food too. Ishita bless her heart graciously invited me, and also showed me around. I ended up also serving other guests after I was done. Some of them spoke to me in Bengali, but I could only guess whether they wanted more or less. I just went with the flow, but with hundreds of people there, it's not unlikely that I filled someone's leaf with more meeshtee than was good for them. Still.

I also went for a Rolling Stones night at that godawful place Velocity. Ended up winning a 40 Licks t-shirt, which I decided to give as a gift to someone who was a bigger fan than me. Eventually, it ended up with Ajeeth, who also regaled me with a story about a printed underwear he had as a kid. Apparently it had Superman flying across his crotch, and it looked like he was punching Ajeeth's balls.

Went for what I thought would be a poetry reading by Javed Akhtar at the univ today. Turned out it was pretty much just people introducing him over and over again. Still, he recited some pretty good poems, including one about Time that I really liked. But what's with him promoting all these girl bands recently? Bloody nuts. Just got home a little while back, and I may be going all the way back to the suburbs for some cool beatnik-ish session that involves a torchlight. We'll see.

2002-10-13T04:13:00.000-07:00

Having lived all my life in South Bombay, I more than qualify to be called a "townie", a term used with emotions ranging from admiration to condescension. Be that as it may, my life is far from being restricted by geography; I move all over the city like a knight on a chessboard.

Still, yesterday was interesting. It all began when I had to get to a birthday party at a pub in Bandra called Toto's. I'd never been there before, despite the half-baked plans Rehana's been making for months. I was told that the easiest way to get to the place was find this other place called Just Around The Corner and walk straight down. Of course, when they named it Just Around The Corner, they probably assumed it would be brilliant marketing strategy to locate it halfway across town.

The party was great, and afterwards I was walking past Just Around Bloody Impossible To Find when I ran into Cheenee. Cheenee, who's real name is Mariam, is the abovementioned Rehana's sister. I met and hung around with her friends for a while. She called Tuku Rehana's family seems especially fond of these nicknames on the cellphone, since she was in the neighbourhood anyway. So I did finally meet her at Toto's, but it was so crowded by then that I left in less than ten minutes, eight of which were spent on the street outside. But not before Rehana spoke once again of her other half-baked plan — to meet at the Sundance Café to make me try something called a "Ninja Turtle burger".

I can't remember the last time I've simply "hung around" like that in Bandra, but it was quite interesting. I just might make a habit of it.

2002-10-11T07:55:00.000-07:00

Hot, hot, hot... the air on the island's been on fire the past few days. I'm not usually one to complain about the heat — I can stand it much better than the cold — but today at the uni I just suddenly felt stifled and congested and like the heat was unrelentingly branding me from all possible angles. I escaped to the relative comfort of a classroom. With a fan.

I was talking to my uncle yesterday, and he told me that the temperature in the city had been 38°C. And what was the temperature in, say, the Sahara Desert? 40°C. Yeah, it's only two degrees less here than it is in the Sahara bleedin' Desert!

Come the evening...
What a fine day for photography. I pulled out my camera, which still had 15-odd pictures left in it, and walked around Altamount. I have some very weird ideas about what makes a good picture, and this seemed as good a time as any to check them out. I walked around for maybe a little less than an hour: Altamount Road isn't really that big a place. But I took what I think were a couple of really good pictures. But only time — and the 100-odd bucks it costs for development — will tell.

2002-10-10T11:34:00.000-07:00

I tried a little experiment today. I just spontaneously started writing everything I could think about myself, with no prior thought to speak of, in an attempt to define who I was at that particular second in time. Free-association, if you will, which is why I decided not to break it into paragraphs. It is, admittedly, an incomplete picture. But I decided to paste it here for your reading and commenting pleasure, after checking it for tpyos.

It's 11:30 pm. My name is Vishal Patel. I'm an English Literature student at the University of Bombay. I read a lot and always have. I like reading about every subject under the sun. I really like performing arts. I love doing theatre. Also poetry readings and informal activities like that. I love watching movies, especially old classics. I'm interested in film as an art form. I like making movies, but although I've acted in a couple of short experimental ones, I haven't directed one yet. I've written a few small screenplays and hope to do that soon. I like art. I like photography. I really like music. My favourite kinds are classic rock from the '50s and '60s. Growing up, my idol was Elvis Presley. He still is to some extent. I write songs now and then. Also poems. My songs are light and humourous. My poems are psychedelic tragedies. I also like listening to blues and jazz and classical. I don't like too many new bands, but there are exceptions. I'm deeply into philosophy. By that term I don't mean religion, it's just me trying to discover what true reality is. I have my own views slowly and laboriously worked out since I was a kid. I love reading about different thoughts, I do that every chance I get. Certain basic philosophical points trouble me greatly. I have views on some issues that strike some people as radical. For example, I don't believe that human "races" really exist at all. I don't attend class as much as I'd like to, I'm trying to change that. I love travel. I was once attacked by a cheetah while on safari in Kenya. I like writing and worked as the editor of the youth section of the Indian Express. I now have my own column in that paper. I like hanging out with people I like. I don't like fakeness. I don't like superficiality. I went to a school that had both. I managed to survive with my wits intact. I love pizza. I like beef stroganoff. I love seafood but my skin has unpredictable reactions to the iodine in it. So I don't eat that. I like red wine. I like beer, especially when I'm doing stupid guy things. I don't like what's happening to the government in my country. I once got into trouble for writing my views. I like playing around with words, although you wouldn't know it from reading this. I'm sleepy. It's now 11:34 pm.

2002-10-09T06:26:00.000-07:00

Great morning... went for breakfast with Ranjit and Chirag to Café Mondegar. I usually avoid the place because its generally quite pretentious, and I don't like to be part of that scene. But I found it to be very different in the morning; really relaxed, chilled, and with hardly any people there.

Ended up having some great discussions about Einstein's theory of relativity and how it's all around us, quantum physics, the nature of the universe and parallel dimensions, the possibility of time travel, the paradoxes that would go along with that, and other related subjects. Eventually we moved into deeper discussions about consciousness, collective unconsciousnesses and mystical potential in humanity.

We decided that it would be a stellar idea to do this every Saturday morning. I'm completely game. If you're ever in the area at that time, drop in and say hi. That is, Saturday morning relative to you, not Saturday morning in a black hole. That would just s u c k .

2002-10-07T23:23:00.000-07:00

They killed Chewbacca!

If you think the Star Wars story ended with Return of the Jedi, and the only way it's been extended is via these shitty "prequels", you'd be as wrong as someone can be when they're further away from the truth than anyone. There's this "expanded universe" which continues the adventures of all the cool characters from the original trilogy... in the form of comics and games — but most importantly novels.

Being the fan that I am, I keep checking up online to see where current storylines are heading. Recently, however, I found this:

The Yuuzhan Vong were developed as the centerpiece threat for The New Jedi Order publishing program. Editors from LucasBooks and Del Rey, together with several authors helped design an alien menace worthy of the New Republic heroes. Time and again Luke, Han, Leia and the others had saved the galaxy, escaping unscathed. This time, though, would be different.

In a bold and controversial move, the first novel of the series, Vector Prime by R.A. Salvatore, clearly showed that this new enemy meant business. By tale's end, one of the classic heroes, Chewbacca the Wookiee, was a casualty of this new war.

In other words: in order to generate enough "buzz" to sell more books, the bastards killed Chewie. In case you're interested in knowing how they played it out, Han and Leia's third kid, Anakin Solo, was piloting the Millenium Falcon at the time:

Solo and Chewbacca have had many close calls in the past, and have executed countless last-second escapes. Sernpidal was not to be one of them. As the moon rushed closer to the surface, Chewbacca was cut off from the Falcon. Anakin was faced with a terrible decision. The Falcon could not wait any longer. Rather than endanger everyone aboard, Anakin piloted the ship away, leaving Chewbacca behind. Chewbacca stood his ground, howling defiantly at the immense moon as it crashed into Sernpidal's surface, killing the mighty Wookiee instantly.

What the fuck. Seriously.

2002-10-06T07:07:00.000-07:00

Vaid's birthday party yesterday, on my terrace. Grabbed a couple of beers and hung out while Corny played some pretty crappy music. After we wound up, a couple of friends came over to my place for some more general bullshit. Leo brought a really elegant hookah along I said hookah, you pervert which meant there was plenty of apple-flavoured smoke to go around.

Sabharwal lay down to sleep in the middle of the movie we were watching, asking us to wake him when we were done... he had to be home early in the morning. Or something. Meanwhile, we amused ourselves by checking out a really funny site we stumbled onto, which had really wasted stuff like Viking Kittens and Elephants, Yeah. Funny at 4:00 am, at any rate.

I tried to wake him several times, even shaking the bugger, but he was out colder than Scandinavian ice tea. Eventually I just put an alarm clock next to him and let it ring incessantly for the many minutes it took for him to find his way back into the land of the awakened. It really is one of the most irritating sounds in the known world. It's quite fascinating to see a sleeping man's slow and labourious journey into consciousness. Try it on someone, next time you have a chance.

2002-10-04T08:47:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make: I used to be a psychology student. I even ended up doing psych as one-half of my double major. It's true. But it's been over a year since I've even touched psychology, and I'm proud to say I'm completely clean now.

Except for when I give in to temptation. Like today. When psychology students of the female persuasion ask me to subject myself to experiments, I can do naught but give in to sweet surrender.

Note to self: when they say they're going to measure your "physiological arousal", it's not what you think.

2002-10-02T10:25:00.000-07:00

My boots were falling apart. People who've glanced at my footwear in the past week would have seen the extent to which I am referring. In all honesty, it was only the left shoe that was r/i/p/p/e/d/ u/p/, but I guess they kind of go together. I'd been putting off buying new boots for a couple of reasons. Firstly, in some sick, perverse way, I'd grown attached to my only pair. Secondly, I don't like to go shopping for shoes. I really don't.

Anosh came along for the hunt, and eventually I found a pair almost exactly like my old black boots, except that they're brown and painfully dig into my ankle when I walk. Then we went back to my place and played Prince of Persia 3D. We've been playing that game forever now. Then Leo he wanted me to mention that he says hi comes over and we drink till around 4:00 am. He offered me ten bucks to drop him to a cab. I refused.

So I'm playing around with the webcam today, and I soon start to do stupid things with it. Took a couple of screen shots, wish I'd taken more (cue Indiana Jones theme).

2002-10-01T10:56:00.000-07:00

I left my job as editor of Channel Y, the youth page of the Indian Express, last week. When I was working on my last issue, it really hit me how much I'd miss the place. Everything about it: working on those blasted articles all week, arranging for photographs, writing more articles, staying up late Wednesday night to finalise them, dragging myself out of bed Thursday morning so I could get to the Express office and help with the design of the page, sending the page for publishing, the cheap, often-bitter coffee and the often-endless waiting for confirmation of the page being recieved.

I've been associated with that publication for around five years, around two-and-a-half of which were spent on the editorial staff, with around half of that as the editor, who — apart from writing practically everything on that page — was entirely responsible for it. I don't know if this made me one of the youngest people in the country to do something like that, but it did make me one of the most harrowed. But I felt something unexpected, almost a tinge of sadness, as I realised that all that would now be done by other people.

I'm going to continue reviewing video games, and I now have a weekly column, a tongue-in-cheek but informative section on computers and Internet-related stuff. I've learnt a lot from the whole editor thing, not the least of which is the knowledge that pressing Alt+0151 gives you a nice, big, broad dash — that's really useful because it stands out from those small-little-dashes. I now give you this knowledge to do with as you will.

2002-09-30T09:45:00.000-07:00

While waiting for the train a couple of days ago, I bought a Thor comic. Now, I read a lot of comics as a kid, and I read even more now, buying them with alarming regularity. But although I'd seen Thor appear in other comics, I had never really read a Thor issue. This can, of course, be blamed on the fact that good comics aren't easily available around here, and you just better be thankful for what you get, young grasshopper.

Anyway, not two pages be I into this adventure of the prince of Ass-guard when the language doth begin to get to me. Attend ye my words, as I sped swiftly towards my destination, I felt compelled to speak, to think in the sweeping, majestic manner as I saw engrav'd before me. And I wouldst fain to speak thusly fore'er, mine own body and heart were filled with grandeur and chivalry. And behold! as the end of the comic doth approacheth, I knew that another one shall I immediately buy; I canst do no less. Begone for now... I shall see thee many a time ere I meet thee in Valhalla!

Chicks in comics are so hot. They break my heart. I suspect I'm not alone here.

2002-09-27T07:51:00.000-07:00

Found a dead snake on campus today. Lee came across it while crossing a shallow stream on his way from the library. "There's a dead snake near the library," he said to me casually over coffee. I went back with him to check it out. It was lying on its back, and had clearly been that way for some time now. I grabbed a long stick and attempted to pick it out of the almost-waterless part of the brook where it lay.

"Shit," Lee said, "It's a Viper."

Just for the record, I'd like to state that Lee wouldn't know how to tell one snake from another, and in all probability it was not a viper. I finally got the stick at a good angle and brought the whole thing up to eye level.

"Fuck," Lee said, "It's a Krait."

Now, I can think of quite a few good uses for a dead snake, not the least of which involves a certain professor. But eventually we just moved it to a sheltered part of the stream where we could check up on him later. It's a guy thing.

2002-09-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

<pissed off>

And if you needed any more proof that we're no longer living in a democracy, it was yet another bandh today. We're so used to having them that we don't even stop to reflect what a violation of our basic rights it is. No bandh — ever — has been called by the government; it's always been strong-arm goons with varied political motivations. Suddenly they decide it's time to exert their "power", and bang! the entire island comes to a standstill. No one dares move out, open their shops, or attend classes, lest one of these organisations beat or do worse to them for defying their curfew.

Fact: A court ruling declared it illegal for anyone to prevent you from going about your life. As a citizen of this democ(k)racy, you have your rights. Meanwhile, the police "patrol" the streets looking to prevent these assholes from harming the rest of us. What fun.

</pissed off>

2002-09-25T06:34:00.000-07:00

Had another poetry reading at the university yesterday. Or, more accurately, went for one, since this wasn't organised by me. It had the distinction of actually being graced by professors — which were some of the nicer ones from the faculty. The number of performances were much fewer than the usual readings, and there weren't that many people present, but on the whole it was much more interesting. And well-rounded.

Between individual performances and other things, we backed up a professor in reciting a postmodern poem about language and coloured women.

This as good time a time as any to comment on my utter distaste for the term "coloured". I can't believe how otherwise-sensible people can use it. Given the context, it's either "dependent" or ridiculously condescending. It just creates more ideas of "us" and "them", no matter how noble the intentions. Anyway, there are fewer "Caucasians" in the world than people of "coloured races", so the term itself deserves some sort of rethink. It also makes other "races" in some way derive from the "white". As in, you can't have the "coloureds" unless you compare them to the "white", can you?

If you're wondering why I keep putting the word "races" in "inverted commas", it's because I don't really believe in race as a concept. It's archaic. For example, in India alone, you have people of varying skin tones and features, all of whom are considered... what? A person of Spanish descent in Europe considers himself "Caucasian", while the same in America is considered "Hispanic". And most "Hispanics" look pretty much like most Indians.

Because of a rather melting-pot history, people in Bombay are pretty much used to meeting Indians of dramatically different colours and features without noticing a difference in "race", and it's not really that big a jump to look at the world that way. Or to consider that just as different places in the country are known for people with certain features, the same should apply to the world as a whole. I'm convinced that "race" as a concept will fade away eventually, and people will laugh at how they ever believed in something like that.

2002-09-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

The "look" and "feel" of my entire computer has been quite different of late, ever since I've installed Windows XP. I like some of the features, while I think the rest are just irritating after a while — which is why I've been running it in "classic mode", which looks pretty much the way my old Windows '98 looked.

It's really good in some places, the new XP format... but I can't help but get the feeling that Microsoft is designing its software with an increasingly condescending feel to it. It's like they think everyone's a moron or something. They should really come up with a "not-a-complete-spaz mode". I think a lot of people would use that.

And while we're on the subject, what's the deal with Microsoft adding all those pointless features to their programs all the time? It just makes their software unbearably florid, and creates what I'd like to call clutterware. With each new version of Messenger, for example, they include a whole new pile of useless additions (thankfully, you can manually uncheck most of them).

In any case, my comps's been giving me serious attitude, although that may be a manifestation of the problem that occoured a few days ago, which made me upgrade to XP in the first place. I can't get no satisfaction.

2002-09-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

This is quite a happy day... I just found out that I've finally been "Googled". That verb of my own invention, pay no heed to it basically means that this journal shows up on Google now. I've been running searches ever-so-often, just to check. Seeing other blogs listed there did little to ease the tension.

But there it is, now.

Click here and here for two different search results. Clicking here will do absolutely nothing. Let's see how many people do it anyway.

2002-09-22T08:13:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of days, I've been working with Ranjit on creating a cool skin for Yahoo Messenger. Most skins you find online are of a woefully substandard quality, so we wanted to put up something really good-looking. I'm happy to say that we completed it today. It has a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme, something I've always wanted to have. Here's a picture that should give you some idea about what it looks like...

We skinned the inside windows too, so there are a whole lot of other characters featured in the skin, like Splinter and Krang. Personally, I think it's one of the best messenger skins I've seen, and that's not just me blowing my own nunchucks. But damn, it looks fine!

We're going to be putting it up online for download soon. But if you can't wait, let me know and I'll send it to you. Cowabunga!

2002-09-21T06:56:00.000-07:00

Check dis!

I finally got the archives working! With a little okay, a lot of help from Ranjit and Jen, I finally have them. There they are, to the left. You can now view entries more than ten posts ago by clicking on the month of your choice. Oh joy, linear time does have its advantages.

I've also added links to other journals that I've been visiting regularly. This had been eating me for quite some time, since they'd linked me a long time ago. My HTML skills have improved, though, which basically means I can do a better job of copying and pasting. So I can finally add 'em.

And last, but not the cliché alert least, we now have the flash animation back. I love that flash animation, man! Without it, there was just a gaping white square where my name, the journal title, and the swaying palm tree should be.

Some people are coming over for dinner soon. So I really should put some pants on.

2002-09-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

I did something today that I've wanted to do for a long time: had an intercontinental booze party. That's right, no longer shall the limitations of being thousands of miles apart stop me from getting plastered. It was a quite on-the-spot thing — I ran into Michael online and suggested we do it. Of course, since I had the webcam and he didn't even have a mic, it had to be pretty descriptive.

I drank a beer that Anosh had gifted me for my birthday, a Dutch brew called Oranjeboom which has a pleasant smokey flavour. He actually gifted me two, but some swine had drunk the other one at my birthday party. When I get my hands on whoever it was, I shall finish this sentence.

Anyway, I was slightly buzzed by 2:00 am, so then we played online chess through Yahoo Messenger's IMVironments feature great feature, stupid name. I lost miserably, although I'd like to think it was because Leo called me up from some girl's house and made me listen to her play the guitar. Turns out they were pretty drunk too. Suddenly the whole freaking world seemed to be in on it.

2002-09-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

What a great party. I feel like having another one.

2002-09-03T07:44:00.000-07:00

This is a slightly-modified version of a comment I recently left on Jen's blog.

I know this isnt exactly relevant, but I'd like to be able to fly. If someone offered to make me be able to fly I'd say "yes". Most definitely yes.

This is not to say I don't appreciate the intricate beauty of the universe, the grand cosmic structure which ostensibly makes it out so rational, toilet-trained individuals such as I have not yet successfully taken flight, but moronic little sparrows that crap all over the place fly all through the blasted sky with impunity.

I like sparrows though. If all the sparrows in the world were to suddenly go away, everyone would be very sad indeed.

Holy Shit! What are the following: the number of eyes a cyclops has; the number of moons that circle our globe; what you've done after you've beaten everyone else in a wheelbarrow race; and the number of days till tommorow? That's right! Multiply it by itself and it's still the same — there are -1- days to my birthday!

2002-09-01T15:18:00.000-07:00

I had been in quite a dilemma today about how and where I should celebrate my birthday. Should I have a large, loud, boisterous celebration within the fragile walls of my house; or should I go in a completely different direction and have a large, loud, boisterous celebration in the spacious-but-expensive confines of my terrace?

I've decided on the latter.

So yeah, despite that 9-day "haitus", I am blogging regularly, so this journal is in no immediate danger of turning into a "Suleiman blog" (the technical term for a weblog that is hardly ever updated). Click on the Randomwrite link to the left to see what I mean.

I'm eating a quite nice pineapple-ish pastry right now.

Start packing your bags! There are -2- asskickin' days to my birthday.

2002-08-31T13:56:00.000-07:00

You are APOLLO, God of Poetry and Music.

You are the ideal man - basically, a stud. Loved by all, your golden boy charm is enough to drive most women crazy with lust. You are the most wanted of all the deities. Women place you on a pedestal during the day, and dream about you at night. And once you work your godly magic in the bedroom, you've got them hooked for life. You are the hot, smart and charming guy whom all the ladies want to bed. Your inner intelligence, sensual nature and great physique make women happy to oblige any of your requests. Your hot and steamy temperament and the devotion that simmers within you make women swoon. You probably tend to dive passionately into relationships, but you may find that your fiery desire quickly cools. Nevertheless, you leave a trail of satisfied mortals in your wake.

Fuckin' Emode.

My birthday's on the fourth of this month, so I'm starting a countdown.
Gee Whiz! There are -3- days to my birthday.

2002-08-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

Corny's gone to the loo. I'm typing this out during a short break we've taken from watching Dead Man On Campus. Vaid's here too, he just got back from the loo. Ah look, Corny's back too. I guess it's my turn now.

In other news, I've borrowed a webcam, so I'll be taking quite a few cam pics and having quite a few video chats. I've also invented a dubious new art form, tentatively called ambigous home-made misleading digital pornography. It basically involves positioning your fingers near a webcam in a manner so as to give the impression of badly shot porn.

Along with a friend that is sitting next to me right now but insists on remaining anonymous (let's call him Mr C) we logged on to a chatroom, and at one time had 23 viewers checking it out. Yes, we were very bored at the time, thank you for asking. Accepted a request from one of the chatters to view their cam too, and saw more than we'd like to remember.

What the hell is wrong with people?

I also took some snapshots of the experimental new photography form, and if enough people show an uncontrollable manic desire to see them, I'll put them online.

Okay, now I really need to go the the loo.

2002-08-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

Wow. Oh, wow. I can't believe it. Nine whole days I experimented with writing "nine" in both word and number form to see which one looked lesser without a post. I didn't think it was possible. If you'd told me this a week ago I'd have laughed in your face and called you vaguely humiliating names.

Words can't describe how mindfucked I've been the past few days.

Wait, lets try that again:
WõrÐ§ çäñ'† ÐêŠ©®íßé høw mîñdfû¢k€d² I'vê ßèéñ thë þåšt ƒêw dã¥§.

But enough about that. Planned a party at the university that went quite well, I think. For entertainment, we put up a couple of short surreal skits and sang a few songs. I sang Heartbreak Hotel and Blowin' In The Wind. People applauded my harmonica skills on the latter song, not knowing its probably the only song I can play on the 'nicka.

"'nicka"? Where the hell did that come from?

2002-08-19T12:33:00.000-07:00

I was online. Well, actually, I still am online as I'm typing this. But when you read it, I won't be. Unless I am. Or unless you're reading this mere seconds after I post. Which is highly likely considering the circumstances that have led to this entry. It will all become clear soon. So, yes, I should rather say, "I am online". Oh, what does it matter... I have cable anyway.

The reason I have not posted any entries for quite a while now is due to having been caught up with several things like organising a party at the university and also making up excuses for not having posted sooner. However, I was chatting on MSN with Leo it's his birthday today, wish him and he says:

you post damn slowly, man

I opened my entry page like a man possessed. But, seeing as it took me forever okay, ten seconds to think of anything to write, I closed the page. Having told Leo this, he then said:

you fool!
go do it now!

That was it. I made up my mind. I was going to blog. As I opened my entry page for the second time, I got an instant message from Sabharwal:

fuckker!!!....u havent updated ur blog

Well, now I have. Icky wicky chicky mickey. Icky wicky plum plum.

2002-08-16T08:30:00.000-07:00

"Well, since my baby left me
Well, I found a new place to dwell..."

Today was Elvis Presley's 25th death anniversary. Exactly twenty-five years, to the day. I brought in the day by listening to Heartbreak Hotel at exactly the stroke of midnight. Having decided to only listen to his music today, I set all my other mp3s to "hidden", to safeguard against any inadvertent clicking.

"Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street
At Heartbreak Hotel..."

This may seem a little extreme, but I owe it to the little kid who spent hours listening to Elvis and desperately waiting to grow his sideburns. From the second I first put that tape into the stereo and heard him wail out those first few lines of Heartbreak Hotel, I was hooked forever. And that's what kept me home last night when I could have been out; and that's what's keeping me home typing this right now, when I know full well I have two places to be tonight. I'm in deep shit.

"Where I'll be, I'll be so lonely baby
Well, I'm so lonely
I'll be so lonely I could die..."

2002-08-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

Happy Independence Day.

And yet, we're living in a country where we're not really free anymore. Not when human beings have their basic civil rights trampled into the dust every single day.

Riots, killings and acts too brutal to describe here make you question the sanity of people. Court cases lie pending and unattended to for decades. Law-abiding citizens live in fear of goons who are their moral and intellectual inferiors. Governments, rotten to the core, fail to uphold the laws they draw up and keep creating further ridiculous laws to enforce them. And the police can come up to you and ask you to leave, for the crime of doing nothing but driving up to the seaside to watch the waves.

At this point, one needs to question whether it's right to introduce democracy into a country that's neither ready for it, not understands its implications. 90% of the country still regards the political party in power as those who "rule" at the moment.

This is not to suggest foreign rule, monarchy or even a "benelovent dictatorship" (whatever that means). I strongly believe that people should have the right to elect their representatives. However, as of now, anyone can be appointed to a post in the government, with the result that we have a bunch of illiterate thugs with criminal records. Passing laws to enforce that government officials have at least some degree of higher education - and no criminal record - would be the first step in creating a oligarchy which is still a Republic in every sense of the word. It's an extreme measure, no doubt, but these are extreme circumstances.

This is not to say that educated officials without a criminal record are not susceptible to corruption. But the percentages are almost certain to be fewer. If 99% of the government is messed up now, this could be cut down to at least 50% by keeping the assholes out.

This is by no means the only workable solution possible; it's just the only one I can think of right now. But today, of all days, we really need to think.

2002-08-14T07:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I'm surfing the web, I accidentally come across pornography. One thing I've always found hilarious - and I suspect I'm not alone here - are porn stars' names. And so, for your reading pleasure, I scrounged around to find some of the more, um, interesting ones.

Alyssa Alps, Anna Amore, April Chest, Ashley Juggs, Becky Sunshine, Bettie Ballhaus, Bunny Glamazon, Candy Andes, Candye Kane, Christy Canyon, Colt 45, Deena Duos, Diane Poppos, Dita Von Teese, Dixie Bubbles, Erica Everest, Europe DiChan, Heather Hooters, Holly, Holly Body, Holly Hollywood, Honey Mellons, Honey Moons, Jacklyn Lick, Jessica Justice, Jewel De'Nyle, Jezebelle Bond, Julie Strain, Kayla Kleevage, Kimberly Kupps, L.A. LaMann, Lacey Legends, Lisa Lipps, Maxi Mounds, Michelle Willings, Niki Knockers, Pandora Peaks, Penelope Pumpkins, Plenty UpTopp, Princess Pattiya, Rachel Rocketts, Rocki Roads, Roxy Rider, Sandra Scream, Summer Cummings, Sweet Georgia, Tawny Peaks, Tiffany Towers, Tiffany Toyz, Toppsy Curvey, Venus De Light, Wendy Whoppers, Zoryna Dreams

This is also a blatant attempt at getting my site millions of hits from desperate guys who happen to be searching for these names on Google at this very moment.

I also discovered a common element among several of these names - it should sound exotic and/or make some reference to hilly terrain. Keeping this in mind, I have come up with the most irresistable, sensous porn star name of all time: Xylophone Himalayas.

I believe there are also similar names for male porn dudes, and while I could find no site with listings of them, I'm not averse to putting them up if someone sends them to me. For now, go through the list and figure out which name you like best. Then try and make up some of your own.

2002-08-11T11:09:00.000-07:00

I may have eaten plastic last night.

It's amazing how you invent new games when drunk. Last night, our fevered brains came up with "hit the car windshield with a lighted cigarette butt from two floors above". I think I won.

I was really drunk by the time everyone left - about 4:30 am, I think - and I tried making noodles. I've recently found out how to make really cool cheesy noodles, and once you try them this way, you'll never go back. After I dumped the raw noodles into the boiling water, I discovered that I couldn't find all the plastic masala and onion oil packets that come with it. This wasn't Maggi, in case you're wondering. It was some obscure brand called Wai-Wai. Quite nice, actually. The back of the pack says you can even eat it uncooked, which is pointless seeing as everyone always sneaks a few bites of raw noodles while waiting for the water to boil.

Since I couldn't find the packets, I reasoned the following possibilities:
a) The noodle guys forgot to include them in this pack.
b) In my drunken state, I had misplaced them.
c) I had dumped them in the water, and was about to eat plastic coated noodles

This led to further reasoning:
å) I was probably not drunk enough to have cooked plastic.
ß) Running a fork through the noodles revealed not even a trace of the packets.
ç) Even if I had put it in, I would never be able to taste it. My taste buds were too numb from alcohol.

So I threw caution out the window, where it played hopscotch with rational thought. I ate the damn noodles. And I'm glad I did.

Vishal's recipe for cheesy noodles, preferably prepared without plastic packets.
Boil water and add noodles and tastemaker/s the usual way. When it's all mixed up well, add two slices of cheese. Break them into smaller strips so they melt quicker. Stir for a bit. Add the entire contents of one packet of oregano (the kind you get when you order pizza). Are you still stirring? Good. The noodles will be looking kind of bland because of all the cheese, so add some tomato ketchup to balance it. Trust me, man. Make sure that the whole thing doesn't look "too red". Keep stirring so the noodles don't stick to the sides of the vessel. Do this until most of the water has evaporated. Slam it onto a plate, and you're done. For best results, call some friends over with a couple of beers.

2002-08-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

I didn't really want to post today. But seeing as this would complete one whole week of consecutive entries, I feel compelled to. There are mysterious forces at work here.

I bought an old DOS CD-ROM today. It's called Star Trek: Judgement Rites and it was priced at much more than its worth. The cartoony graphics are nothing compared to today's games, but I played it once during the early days of gaming, and have been looking for it ever since. I don't know whether its because of the inherent coolness of the game, my nostalgic wish-fulfillment, or the fact that it's the only game which features Captain William Shatner Kirk. In the '60s, this guy was spreading the concept of free love all over the galaxy.

This post has been modified from its original content. It has been formatted to fit your screen and make some kind of logical sense.

2002-08-07T09:28:00.000-07:00

A lot of people, confused by my apparently vague wording in Sunday's post, have been led to believe that Sul has a girlfriend now. So at the risk of disappointing Jen, Brenda, Jaya and other "MAH2ers" did I just say that? I'd like to clarify that what I meant was something completely different. Also, to the best of my knowledge, he is still not Ninja.

If that last sentence made no sense to you, you're not alone.

Meanwhile, back in Metropolis...
I didn't go to class today. I had every intention to, mind you. I woke up on time. I put on my boots even though they were still wet and smelly from yesterday's trek through the Black Lagoon. Having modified my cargoes so that they'd serve as shorts, and having put on a still-moist jacket, I was ready for anything.

Except the bleak depressing atmosphere that hit me the second I left the building. "Screw this," I eloquently said to myself, and went straight back home.

This time thing is messing with my mind. Suddenly, all the post times on this site have been set back by one hour as opposed to the half-hour it was earlier. So, as of now, calculate an hour ahead of the time it says. Just remember that time and space is all just an illusion anyway, and you'll survive.

2002-08-06T11:19:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how a single large downpour of rain can completely break down the infrastructure on the island. I was at univ when it started, and we tried to kill time till it stopped by starting a never-ending session of singing mainly '80s songs.

Our generation doesn't really have much to be nostalgic about, besides '80s music. Personally, I prefer earlier stuff.

The roads were completely flooded - not the first time this has happened this monsoon - and when I say flooded, I mean the kind where cars begin to look like boats. The trains, of course, stopped running with the promptness of a waiter at an Irani restaurant.

Decided to go with Sabharwal to his place since he lived closest to univ. He's got a really wild room, almost entirely covered with posters of heavy metal bands. It reminded me of when I was a kid and visited rooms of older kids. Come to think of it, that would have been in the '80s too. I finally gave my Star Wars presentation today as well, which made this a truly '80s day.

A lot of people tell me that the rain is very romantic, and ask why on earth I hate it. I'd just like to point out here that I don't. I do, however, dislike the rains here, because - except for a few idyllic locales as yet untouched by man's civilisationary gaze - people always end up stepping in gooey potholes, stepping into trains that are either late or dirty, or getting drenched in filthy water splashed by a passing bus. Yeah, that's really romantic.

2002-08-04T13:48:00.000-07:00

This is just to let readers of this journal yes, all four of you know that I've finally solved the problem with the blog's time to a large extent, and you don't need to calculate 12 and a half hours from the post anymore. Now, calculate just half an hour from the time it shows. If you miss doing the mathematics, maybe this will cheer you up:

2x + 3x = 153
x = ?

2002-08-04T03:16:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up to find a scar on my forehead. I had no memory of how or where I got it, but something told me it wasn't quite like Harry Potter's. However, seeing as I had spent the previous night drinking at home with a bunch of friends, I had some idea. I woke up with the worst hangover ever, and pretty much considered laying off the harder stuff for good. Two weeks later, while my resolve may have softened, I'm still feeling quite averse to vodka shots.

Last night, I decided to organise another get-together. I've just come into possession of about a dozen DVD rips, so we didn't have to rely that much on alcohol for entertainment. In any case, the plan didn't really fall through, seeing as Sul couldn't make it because his chief mode of transportation was watching a movie at his girlfriend's house.

I still had some vodka and fenny left over from that night, so adding this to the rum that Vaid brought and the wine Hardo got, we had enough. The wine was, without doubt, the vilest swill ever to be squeezed out of a grape. We didn't really have money to buy the good stuff, so we bought this cheap brand called Wunder Brew's Senorita, and it was so badly made that when I tried to roll it on my tongue it actually fizzed. It also looked like the colour was artificially added. For the sake of humanity, please don't ever buy this wine. Vaid got really drunk and started talking in that strange accent, slagging off the cops, dancing and doing other silly Vaid things. It was fun.

I tried downloading the game Counter-Strike, but it turns out it was only the mod. Watched half of Star Trek: First Contact before crashing. In the morning, Hardo was having withdrawal symptoms or something from not playing Counter-Strike and wanted to go buy a copy of Half Life. Despite my advising him not to, he went out saying he'd be back in an hour with the game. Maybe he did come back and I was just too fast asleep to hear the doorbell. Tough shit.

2002-08-03T09:57:00.000-07:00

I actually wrote this yesterday, but seeing as yesterday's post was so long, it seemed better to wait till today.

Moving away from yesterday's rather long post, I thought it would be good to explain some things about this blog, so you don't spend sleepless nights trying to figure them out and being just a lazy swine without any friends.

1) "Blog" is apparently short for "Weblog". Don't ask me, I didn't make either of those up.

2) The title. In case you haven't already figured it out, the island is Bombay island. In a broader sense, though, I'd like to think that each of us is an island, when we look at our lives with a certain detachment that allows one to write about it. Actually, that's just a bowl of pretentious crap I made up right now.

3) The time thing. This is potentially cause for great confusion, so let me explain how it works before you start to wonder why I was at my computer typing stuff out at a time when I was supposed to be buying llamas at the Azerbaijan stock exchange. The thing is, the blog people seem to think that the universe's time comprises pretty much that of the Americas and Europe. To figure out what time I really posted, add 12 and a half hours to the time it shows.

3.142857) More credits: I neglected to mention in my first entry - where I somewhat thanked Sul for setting up this blog - that it's also based largely on an earlier design by Elvis. And here's something exciting for people who are just as bored as me - if you move your mouse cursor over the palm tree in the graphic on your left, you will see it sway and be able to listen to the sea. I'm not kidding. Try it for yourself.

2002-08-02T08:08:00.000-07:00

You ever have one of those days that's so messed up that it moves into the realm of surreal humour? They're very interesting because there's a part of you that's laughing while every other fibre in your body wants to bash your head against a brick wall.

I had to do a presentation today in Literary Criticism: Jungian Archetypes in Star Wars. I finished working on it late last night or early this morning, if you're going to be technical about it. Ranjit's printer wasn't working, so the best thing seemed to be for him to e-mail it while I rushed to the cybercafe. Their printer wasn't working either. I remembered another cybercafe but when I went there, I found... nothing. It was like that scene in Star Wars when Luke and Obi-Wan arrive at where Alderaan should be. Apparently it had been torn down. Any way I looked at it, I was going to be late for my class now. My only hope now was to get there before it ended.

I decided to take a fast train, change quickly to a slow later, rush to univ and find a cybercafe somewhere there. I remembered one that Michael used to go to last year. The fast train refused to arrive, so I crossed the tracks over the slow platform, where it took forever. At one point I actually shouted, "Where the hell is the train!!" As a rhetorical question, I give it a 7.5. Later, I ran like I'd never run before, and told the rickshaw driver to get to the university the fastest he could. The cybercafe near there has the slowest connection I'd ever seen, and I didn't have that kind of time. The person there said I should recommend the place to other students. Yeah, sure.

I ran a not inconsiderable distance to another place, where they didn't have the Internet. I found a good cybercafe and finally had my printouts 15 minutes before the lecture ended. I took a rick from the university's main gate to where my class was and quickly raced in. The professor commented on my dramatic entrance, before I sat to watch the presentation currently going on. It took a while. "We just have two minutes left; You'll have to give your presentation some other time," the teacher said kindly, as the world began to crumble. and. everything. inside. me. broke.

2002-08-01T14:24:00.000-07:00

Since I've finally got around to putting up this blog page... um, I was going to make some monumental speech, but Sul's sitting next to me and has just reminded me that we're the only two people reading this. In that case, I could have actually just told him all this stuff instead of typing it out. But that would kind of defeat the whole purpose of having this blog in the first place.