The Spirit Has Run Out Surprisingly Fast.

Thanks to a combination of work, a weird virus and a cold weather, the New Year spirit has gone AWOL. One week. That's how long it took to disappear. But then again, I'm celebrating the first healthy week since New Year's Day, so tally ho and all that I suppose.

It's been COLD in Chennai, and I know that statement will beget open mouthed disbelief from most of you, but yeah that's how it's been here. Global Warming, El Nino or whatever it is, it's a pain to get up from the cocoon you've created out of a random mix of blankets, sheets, clothes, and whatever else is on your bed, for an 8 AM class. No relief in thinking that this cold wave will pass because then we'll be back to The Usual Chennai Weather, namely The Center Of The Sun.

Now that I've got this post off to a horrifyingly cliched start by talking about the weather, let me vent some steam that's been kept under wraps for much too long.

@IfItAintBigItAintForMe - If you want something big I suggest you go check out porn sites.

@RandomAssholesWhoDon'tGiveAFuck - Guess what? I don't either, that you don't. But then if you come and crib at the end of it all, it only means "You should have.".

Whew. That feels good. Now, if you're reading this and feeling affronted, there's a good chance I meant you.

A weird virus has been doing the rounds and yours truly was among the first to spread it around. Lesson learnt : If antibiotics don't work, try brandy + hot water. In generous amounts. For all the teetotalers, I'm sorry but that worked for me. You're gonna have to figure out your own cure.

I cannot wait for this month to end. Bad blood has been flowing by the barrel, and it's going to be a stretch to last this one out. So, I really need this.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference."

Check out the links prowling across the top of this page. It's a lesson in JIT. When you come to LIBA on the 26th and 27th of this month please come and find me, and I shall show you the smallest source of energy in the Universe. 

@Kosu, yes, I meant you earlier. Please get well soon. :(

@MyBestFriend - I know you're watching me type this, but just in case you're pretending not to pay attention, can we stop fighting about random, abstract stuff and get on with some more solid stuff? Part of that depends on you talking to me. Ah, now you see where I'm going with this. :)

@BabyBoo - I love you! :)

@Bud - You're going to be a star by the end of this month. So, just do what you gotta do, and let The Guy Upstairs take care of the rest. Rock maadi.

All together now.

New Year. Old Blog. New Look.

First day of the New Year, and since I'm going to take the "resuscitate blog" thing seriously, I thought why not a makeover. After messing around with the Template Design quite a bit, I finally settled on this simple preset template.

Also notice the cool scrolling links on top, yeah, I know enough HTML to get me into trouble. But on a more serious note, those links point to the biggest event in any LIBA-ite's calendar. If you're a LIBA-ite, click! If not, click anyway!

I notice that [untitled]/[undecided] has finally caved in to the spirit of the times and carved his New Year resolutions in stone (...eerily similar to mine...), again. Go check it out on his spanking new website, The Road To Kingdom Come. A hilarious read.

@Will Write For Food : I'm back. Rejoice. Now, can we start thinking about our "Top Secret Project That I Mentioned A Couple Of Times And You Shot Down"? Again?

@El Misti let's do this together shall we? I shake up my blog, you shake up yours. My blog updates tracker shows "El Misti 1 year ago". Which is pretty hypocritical seeing as I carefully time my updates to prevent the same.

So, a new year, and we tell ourselves that it's a fresh, blank canvas all over again.

Funny, how silly and yet true that is.

Gotta Get This Up And Running...Again.

I've been thinking of putting something up here for a long time. An original creation. But sadly that department seems to have shut up shop. Or there's no room for it inside my head right now. Whichever it is, point is that I have written mostly zilch in a long time. If you discount the BS on the many answer papers, I have written exactly zilch.

There are no weird ideas floating around in my head. Which is kinda disturbing, because I never seemed to lack that Dali-ciousness. :(

And now, we've worked our way all the way down to the last week of the year. An eventful one. So I'm gonna go over it once more, and see how it's all balanced out. January was the month of hope. New Year starting out, and a lotta things on the To Do list. Most of which were the same reasons I quit my job for. Exam after exams after exam. Still not enough courage to chuck it all and follow some diaphanous dream. Still enough sense left in me not to chuck it all and follow some diaphanous dream.

February. CAT results come out, eventually. Punch in the gut. Now what? Got no answer to the question "So, what are you doing now?". Some questions of my own now. But still, there's the LIBA interview to look forward to.

March 26th is the LIBA interview, and on March 21st I manage to tear the ligaments in my left ankle. Hobbled on one leg to Chennai, and to LIBA for the interview. Horrible GD, great interview. Met my soon-to-be best friend at the GD. LIBA was the best one I had in my kitty till now, and I hoped I'd done enough.

April brought doubts, and questions, and more questions. Specifically, "Now what?". The "I knew it." look reserved for all those who fall because they strayed off the beaten track was beginning to make it's presence felt. Basketball-wise I was close to regaining peak form, now that the injury had healed. Creativity-wise, I was probably hitting an all time high. The Wacom Bamboo was my weapon of choice, and I was practically invincible. Somehow that seemed to give me the bare minimum self-confidence.

May and I was on the LIBA waitlist. With no more information, or hope of conversion. Desperate times, and Bank PO tests were beginning to look interesting. "Screw the dream, I need a job."

June 2nd. "Why was your phone switched off?! You had a call from LIBA! Call them back!". Damn! No balance. Run to town. Recharge. "Hello? Yeah, I got a call about a seat? Yes, I'm interested. Ok. On 7th. Thank you.". Improptu jig in the middle of the town. I'm telling you man, it felt like coming up for air. Whoosh. Pack up. Fly. Enter LIBA.

July. New life. New friends. Guitar Man, even though I was a rank amateur. Somehow managing to court controversy by everything I did. Or didn't. The people who mattered didn't care though, for a change. Thank God.

August. September. October. More of the same. Parties. Friends. Enemies. Patch-ups. Phone calls. Recharges. Recharges. Recharges. Surprises. Fights. Irrational ones. Rational ones.

November. I have Direction. Interviews. Screwing up GDs. Again. Renault-Nissan. But accidents still happen. "Trust" is a small word, but heaven knows how much it signifies. Guardian angels. Superman still can't fly. But that's no reason to stop being Superman, is it?

December. "Now!". The tension. The panic. And the smiles. It IS worth every drop of sweat, every twinge of pain, every throbbing headache, every tired yawn. The smiles are what make them all worth it. Blank a week before the exams. Last minute swotting. "Screw this, I'm gonna do this my way." Surprise, surprise, it works. Counterstrike. "Fire in the hole!". Still works. "O Holy Night". Everyone stops chattering. Goosebumps. "Merry Christmas y'all!". All I want for Christmas is to go home. Home. "So this is what you look like!". Serendipity. :)

And now, checklist time.

• Nope. Still can't dunk. Can barely run round the court.
• Haven't got a Bucket List yet. Dunno why.
• Oh hell yeah, I can play Wake Me Up When September Ends! :)
• No, it's so not cool to lose my cool. Strikeout!
• I sing out loud. Everyone in the vicinity of C-25 will vouch for this.
• No maniacal driving. Don't feel the need to get anywhere faster than I can.
• Orkut kaput!
• The receding hairline is being successfully countered by longer hair. :P
• Mission IMDB 250 is going strong!
• Writing more often is something I promise to promise to do. :P

That's a fairly good strike rate, I think. Onward ho. I'm thinking, "Roll With The Punches" should cover all resolutions for 2011.

Stained

2215 hrs. 15 more minutes. “…washes the stain right off…” Why am I watching the Home Shopping Network? Click. “…meanwhile the race for President…” Click. “…que pasa…” Click. Click. “…Britney Spears declined to comment…” Great. Click. “…the clothes in lukewarm water…”

2231 hrs. The phone’s ringing. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. “We’re downstairs. Where are ya, Johnny?”. “Coming”

“We’re making the drop at the St. Louis dock. North pier. Johnny, you and Castano, stay near the walkway. Pop anyone who comes out before me.”

2235 hrs. 10 minutes to drop time. Cold, cold night. Why would anyone want to be out in this weather? Why couldn’t they sit at home and watch TV? But again, with all the tripe that’s on, you might as well get out, make some money, pop some lead.

Franki was talking non-stop.

“…can’t believe Don Marco would’ve doubted me…”.

Yeah Frankie, you’d never let go of the chance to make a few more greenbacks, would you? So what did they pay you Frankie?

“…you listening to me Johnny?”.

Frankie was looking around at me from the front seat.

“What is with you Johnny boy? Too much television eroding your brain?”.

“I’m fine, just a bit…bit under the weather”.

“Under the weather. Under the weather? Who talks like that? I mean…”

2243 hrs. St. Louis dock. 2 Minutes to drop. “Alright, we’re here. Remember everything I told you. If I’m not back in 5, head back to the den, don’t speak to anyone. You hear me Johnny? Castano?”.

2245 hrs. Frankie was a nice guy. His only problem was money. He could never have enough. Don Barzagli had obviously seen this. Well in 5 more minutes Frankie was going to pay more than he could ever earn. The only problem was going to be Castano, the new kid.

“So Johnny, Frankie tells me you were out of town last week”.

“Mom’s sister’s funeral. Down in Texas”.

“Oh yeah? So how come I saw you down in Queen’s, Johnny? With Officer Barrigan.”  Castano was not asking, he was saying. I turned around as a gun pressed into my temple.

“You really thought I’d let you pop me off like that Johnny”. Frankie was walking out from behind the shed. “You think I didn’t know why you were here?” The gun muzzle felt icy against my head. “You’re a pathetic actor, Johnny, even with all the television you watch. Give Don Marco my regards”.

It all happened so quick. Castano’s feet slipped on the ice. He was dead before he hit the ground though. The gun in my hand was smoking. I fired a couple of shots at a figure vanishing into the dark. I heard the sound of a car starting. Tyres squealed on asphalt. And then I felt a warmth in my side. I’d been hit, damn it.

2330 hrs. Back home. Frankie jumped to the Barzaglis. They had men on the inside. Don Marco had known I was a cop. I was supposed to kill Frankie and Castano. But then I was still alive. It didn’t make sense. Christ, I was bleeding. I’d have to wash this T. Maybe I’d use one of them powders shown on TV. But it didn’t make sense. Why would Don Marco keep me alive knowing I was a cop? It didn’t make sense. Unless…

0032 hrs. They were showing Seinfeld on TV. Again. And then somebody knocked on the door. They’d given me an hour. I put my ear to the door, listening.

“Johnny, you there?”. Just as I thought, he’d sent dear old Iacquinto.

“…if you have blood stains on you shirt, maybe laundry isn’t your biggest problem right now…”  

“Fellas, break the door down…”

The Rhyme of Snobberwocky and The Beanpole.

A crazy attempt to cheer up a friend resulted in this.

The Rhyme of Snobberwocky and The Beanpole

Snobberwocky:
I will breathe fire,
I will chew you out,
And I'll vent my ire,
Without thinking about,
Whoever you may be,
Whatever you may say,
I will not smile,
I will only stare.

The Beanpole:
That's what you think,
I know it's not true,
'Cos I see a Titch,
Somewhere inside you,
A Titch that I know,
Who yearns to come out,
A Titch that The Beanpole,
Cannot be without.

Snobberwocky:
Silly little Beanpole,
Stand outta my way,
I'm cranky, I'm irritated,
It's just not my day,
Life's not all jokes,
And LOLs galore,
Life's about realities,
Don't be so sore.

*after a pause*

The Beanpole:
I might be silly,
But I miss the Titch,
And that's all that I know,
Not that any of which,
That you say doesn't matter,
I know it is true,
But remember the craziness,
That I shared with you?

Snobberwocky: 

*grudgingly*
Oh well, I do,
But that's not the point,
There's work to be done,
And words to be coined,
But I miss her too,
Maybe more than I say,
But I cannot be the Titch again,
I want to, but no way.

The Beanpole: 

*encouraged*
Life may not be,
All fun and jokes,
But as long as we can laugh about it,
and say "Holy Smokes!",
Everytime we mess it up,
And then get back on our feet,
That how it should be,
Dear ol' Snobberwocky.