I turn 21 today. Its scary, in a way...so many momentous things are up ahead in life. But a friend recently got me thinking, about how this is exciting, because so many Awesome things are up not too far away in life. Which makes me happy.

I also had a really awesome birthday party today, with people who I hope will be friends for a long time, and the sweetest of birthday gifts possible. So I'm rather elated and maaroing senti today, so beware all who come in the way. And yes, feel free to add your congratulating 2 cents in the comments section:)

Science

...It works, Bitches. And how.

And oh, what magnificent beauty.

This is just so pritty. I wish I was working on this kind of project.

My Message
Cecil Rajendra

And now you ask
what is my message
I say with Nabokov
I am a poet
not a postman
I have no message.

but I want the cadences
of my verse to crack
the carapace of indifference
prise open torpid eyelids
thick-coated with silver.

I want syllables
that will dance, pirouette
in the fantasies of nymphets
I want vowels that float
into the dreams of old men.

I want my consonants
to project kaleidoscopic visions
on the screens of the blind
& on the eardrums of the deaf
I want pentameters that sing
like ten thousand mandolins.

I want such rhythms
as will shake pine
angsana, oak & meranti,
out of their pacific
slumber, uproot them-
selves, hurdle over
buzz-saw & bull-dozer
and rush to crush
with long heavy toes
merchants of defoliants.

I want every punctuation --
full-stop, comma & semi-colon
to turn into a grain of barley,
millet, maize, wheat or rice
in the mouths of our hungry;
I want each & every metaphor
to metamorphose into a rooftop
over the heads of our homeless.

I want the assonances
of my songs to put smiles
on the faces of the sick,
the destitute & the lonely,
pump adrenaline into the veins
of every farmer & worker
the battle-scarred & the weary.

and yes, yes, I want my poems
to leap out from the page
rip off the covers of my books
and march forthrightly to
that sea of somnolent humanity
lay bare the verbs, vowels
syllables, consonants . . . & say
"these are my sores, my wounds:
this is my distended belly:
here I went ragged and hungry:
in that place I bled, was tortured;
and on this electric cross I died.
Brothers, sisters, HERE I AM."

(Link)

I wish I could write like that.

Books Books Books

In a post reminiscent of one of Aadisht's a while back, I wish to gloat about my purchases of the morning. The vital stats:

Time spent: 2 hours 55 minutes (including travel)
Pocket unburdened by: a glorious Rs 355.
Goodies got:

1. The Deep End of the Ocean (pb)- Jacquelyn Mitchard
2. The Accidental Tourist (pb)- Anne Tyler
3. People Like Us (pb)- Dominick Dunne
4. Frankenstein (pb)- Mary Shelley
5. South by Java Head (pb)-Alistair MacLean :)
6. Goodbye California (pb)- Alistair MacLean :)
7. The Best of O. Henry (pb)
8. Under the Duvet (pb)- Marian Keyes
9. False Gods (hb)- Louis Auchincloss
10. Nightfall (hb)- Isaac Asimov
11. Gump & Co. (hb)-Winston Groom
12. Snow Falling on Cedars (hb)-David Guterson
13. The Full Cupboard of Life (hb)- Alexander McCall Smith
14 The Dirty Girls Social Club (hb)-Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez


State of Mind: Exuberant.

Joy is me. Thank god for Sunday Bazaar.

Things that the New Year has taught me:

1. I have seen both heaven and hell on Earth recently. And hell, for sure, is the 764 bus. Pure torture at the best of times. May all the eve teasing jerks rot in hell, and more importantly, may all those super jerks who think that sitting in the seats reserved for dames is a great idea, get kneed in the groin, multiple times.

2. Cockroaches are everywhere, even in Rajdhani 3 AC compartments. Its sad, but true.

3. Nothing feels quite as much like home like a Fatafat does.

4. Class 10th math was probably the pinnacle of my love for learning.

5. The more the money you have, the more the desire to splurge on things that you otherwise wouldn't dream of. (I realise that the last one is not at all restricted to me, but hey, its what the New Year has taught me, so its all good).