There's this close knit community of bloggers who live among us. They reside in Chennai, Mumbai, Hyderabad, Bangalore and so on and so forth. But suddenly they decide to ditch the username and actually meet in the flesh. And its quite scary because distances suddenly dont matter and they all land up under the same roof in an acceptable watering hole and partake of the harvest in true communal fashion, so to speak.
Indiblogger's top reps, users and fans were present at Stones, Indiranagar, to get into Iron Maiden mode for tomorrow. Free beer was freely flowing, ensuring that the good times kept rolling.
Now, if you're a blogger and you think that you dont live in the dark ages, you're probably signed up with Indiblogger.
Other than that, I'm listening to the Beatles (The White Album) and feeding the fish on time.
Happy Valkilmers... and look alive.
Facebook is a nice place for folks to seethe, I always thought. To feel without explicitly making it known, to let one's reddest red sentiment quietly bubble along and watch others feel an uncomfortable all-pervading heat gradually envelope them.
Well, that's my ideal anger condition. You may take strong exception to it. I won't hold it against you.
In recent days, I have observed several weakly-informed individuals publishing severe statements without thinking twice about it and that too with such force of authority. Well, most of them are starkly honest musings on the state of affairs in Bangalore and the new vigilante marriage bureau roaming the streets and I appreciate that. But we as students/youth living in Bangalore are used to drowning our potent intellect with pitchers of weak beer or killing our drive to do anything actively with a moldy spliff or two.
It's nice to see folks waking up and expressing the anger we should have felt a long time ago while people were digging holes around us while we were locked up getting loaded.
But it would be better to see some sort of strategy being drawn out rather than comments under status messages on Facebook getting drawn out into long esoteric debates.
Suddenly it's all so cool to talk politics. Y'know, when the shallowest blonde you ever knew starts speaking of Mister Muthalik. Or when P Biddy speaks out against the moral police and other such fermented cliches. I lose interest in things I feel strongly about when certain (large) sections of society take notice of it. Eg: Slumdog Millionaire, V day marriages and so on;
Ok, so what I want to say is that while it is nice to see the generally unconcerned youth of this day and age take notice of things and express their displeasure, I'd appreciate it if we sounded more coherent.
... I tried to make sense.
I'm ill again. This gent at the doctor's was peering at a board on the door. So I asked if the doctor was in. In Kannada. He took one long look at me and explained in great length and seriously fractured English that the doctoru was always in the offissu by that time and that he took his tennis playingu seriouslyu and a para or so more of stuff beyond my powers of comprehension.
Now why wouldn't he just admit to all that in the tongue that the query was posed in?
But you've gotta have the Kannada signboards.
They wanna make it mandatory for kids in school to be taught in Kannada.
They are a classical language after all.
I'm feeling anger again. Searing red rage.
There are too many reasons to be generally pissed off. I keep it all inside somewhere where there's no light. And it keeps growing. I know because the anger creeps out of my mouth and hands and there's little I can do about it.
I try to kill excess energy at the gym, make a conscious effort to listen to untroubled music, keep myself buried under a thousand things and eat my vegetables. But it won't go away.
Sometimes there's nothing better I'd like to do than to sling a nice heavy expensive object at the wall.
I have no idea why people show so much restraint in being the least bit lenient.
When my time comes, I will be vicious and try to enjoy it.