someone else, anyone else 003

I see... ... voyager. Alright, you are it.

With each episode that passed, the actors seemed to settle into their characters. The story lines seemed to do the same: Captain's log, on screen, hail them, shields down, shields up, set a course, engage... In the confines of a ship, what more can you hear, if such a thing were to actually exist? I found the next generation's screen and 'red alert' to be much more impressive. Once you get past that, the early episodes reached their final sheen. Now we are inching towards 'the scorpion', where we shall meet 'seven of nine'. There you get spice and hence irony. Are you sure? All you need to hear is an exhilarating "I amWe are Borg"! That's where I started. I started in the middle, went forward in time for a while and then decided to loop back and start over. Just a minor temporal re-sequencing.

Right now, some cheese is being taken to the doctor for examination.

sea 002

I am held by the hand. No, I levitate by the magnetism of the soft fingertips, like a stained-steel pin. My head is almost above the water. The little waves splash and dash, blocking the airway now and then.

Keep me up here, it is nice.

The wooden boat on the transparent sparkling sea green is manned by the nascent power. Looking up from where I am, it seems to rise out of the floating boat and extend into the brilliantly blue sky, breathing the air and punctuating the wind with flowing curls, soaking in the brightness of the day.

The hands splash around in the water and get their wrinkles examined by curious eyes. With every move made, I follow, bounded.

When you drift away, on your own course, I am dragged along. But the force weakens with distance. Soon I will lag. Then I will have to be content that I can see you... then that you are out there... then I will start to doubt that you are out there... then I might...

Faith, has to be blind... or does it have to be faith? Don't I 'know'?

[Edit 14/6/09: PS: My blog has had been marked as a 'spam blog'.]

vanishing point

In the impending change to darkness, the parallel rows of buildings and trees converged along the road that met the horizon. The sky opened upwards from there in bands of different colors interleaved with rows of gray clouds. The arrangement put things in perspective showing how enormous things are above the surface of the Earth and from how far up the rains had made their way. There is a fresh look about everything and the evening was turning into shades of yellow. I heard there was a rainbow too. The blue and turquoise up there in the sky tickled a few muscles in the face. "I like more colors now", I thought. The fever and cold that have stayed away for long have made a visit. So far it has reached a shimmering burn in the eyes. So I can't work. I have to be on the web. Not a bad time to be sick either.

This is how myths are born and become larger than life, I guess. For good. Or for worse. "Don't be evil" ? I have to be sarcastic here and say "yeah?". I don't see how an illusion of information can be better than no information, under such censorship. May be now that they have gone in, they should get out. That might paint a clearer picture. I may avoid news, but that's not the same as being denied information. Time heals things, as it should and selective memory has to do its job. But.... oh well. We'll just see what happens with the "Whole Sort of General Mish Mash".

talk 001

Her nasal mumbles to an imaginary audience sputtered out viscous drool around her as she precessed now and then under the influence. Influence of gravity that is. She carefully placed the tweety bird on my palm when I extended my hand, as I lay down on the couch. A few seconds later, she took it back. I did not move my hand. She was busy with the toy. A few moments later I showed the other palm. She repeated the same steps again. She did not get bored for the next five times. Then she got distracted by a noise from the outside. She dropped the bird absently on my hand and hurried on her toes to the entrance and stood there looking outside. Her silhouette, with a bright halo, was stalk still, rapt in attention. A moment later she hurried back in, on her toes, shrieking with joy. She got distracted by the tweety bird again and took it from me and started to explore it with her mouth. I didn't have to guess what she saw. "uh!" she said, wide eyed and open mouthed, an expression that said: "have you not understood yet?". "Oh, of course. I understand", I said and smiled at her. She left it at that and went back to chewing the toy. Sometimes I take away the toy and put the side of my palm under the gums and watch her not being able to bite with a mouth that's now too full. I got reminded of Charlie Chaplin being fed corn by a machine. I laughed out aloud. She responded in kind. That was a good conversation, I thought. I said thanks. I opened my eyes. She closed hers.

keyfabe

I have been talking too much at work lately. Too many anecdotes. I am afraid I don't know what I am going to say next. I have always enjoyed the fact that I don't have to watch what I am saying, but lately I feel like I know too much about too many things to be blurting out words carelessly. I am not able to catch myself on time before this happens. I helplessly watch myself get into a minor mess which perhaps only I am aware of. I can't say that for sure because people around are not exactly honest. They observe etiquette. That was not the case when the team's average age was lesser. Nowadays you really have to wonder what goes on in someone's head. Probably nothing is going on, but there's nothing better than silence to stir some chaos. I don't know when my mouth is going to cause some serious damage. I don't know how I got into this keyfabe. I will break character. I need to stay away from news/information/forming opinions and bury myself in the task at hand and just lie low for as long as possible. There could be a problem. What I have observed is, without a certain amount of attention from people, especially when I have zero 'friends' near me, I have become a sucker for any kind of attention. Lame. Yes. But, fact. Just like a moth... can't resist getting burned. I can't resist showing off a clever word play or when I find a problem and see a solution. I also get insecure when credit is not given where it is due, especially when I think I am diligent on this regard with others. This is not about modesty, this is merely about acknowledgement. There's nothing more irritating than to hear someone explain a problem or a solution to someone else as if it all occurred in their head. Actually there is just one thing more irritating... that's when the problem/solution you found makes a full circle and finds you :). That begs a question though, what would my boss feel? He must face this ALL the time.

"do thy duty, fruit is not thy concern". Deep breath.

sobriquet, turquoise

Pleased with the state of affairs, I switched off the lights and pulled the bag over my shoulder. Under the fluorescing energy savers, an ethereal figure with silvered hair walked towards me as I approached the glass door. I swiped the electronic card on the card reader and pulled at the door handle. I left my reflection behind, got past the darkened walkway, the lobby, the landing and then climbed down the dark stairs. Outside, the night was balmy, as the summer peaks. The car beeped as it unlocked. Turquoise is not a great color for the car. Neither is the car itself a design magnum opus. It is a box with a nose. But what can I say? when I bought it, I had a horrible case of... something. It is a souvenir. I can't bear to have the car anymore. I don't want to sell it to anyone else. I eased the car out of the parking lot and floored it as soon as I got out. The emptiness of the late Sunday evening zipped past as the turquoise crystal sliced through the humid air for the first time and also for the last time. Can it drift? After an hour of tire warming, the tires started smoking their way up the little hill. At the summit, I stopped. It just seemed ill fitting. Too rough. I drove it back home, gently. I contemplated taking it apart and putting it back together and see if that would help me bond with it. It felt like an autopsy. I just left it alone.

Today, at dawn, it looks like a fresh bloom after a stormy night... Soft and fragile... I am powerless to crush it. Indifference - Let's see if that works. I closed the door with cold deft touches. It seemed to smile innocently. The kind that wants you to dent it in real deep.

to be

lost for the eye and silent to the ear,
conjugate hearts now beat together,
a treasure fragile as a silent lake,
another, soon to be discovered easter egg,
as one wells up, the other cracks open,
bundles of joy, in you, in heaven.

words that deserve to be spun,
cotton mists of soft dreams churn,
convective fluffs thread up the blue,
gypsy jet streams weave a magic on cue,
hurtled across the land, the cirrus fall,
a message spills itself at its call

words are but vibes,
the heart rumbles in the skies.