Rael Life

Unclehood

2007-12-14T12:08:00.000+11:00

My blog-life is always a few months behind my real one. This happened way back in August. In an attempt at masking identity, I’m using initials instead of names (because I can.)

My good friend, H, gave birth to a baby girl, V. 3 and a half weeks later, when mother and child were back at home with the visiting grandparents, and father was away in the Red Centre drinking beers, I decided it would be a good time to pay a visit and say hello to the recently arrived drooling life-form.

Now let me tell you about babies and me. I have nothing against them, but personally, I don’t find them very cute. Admittedly, there are cute babies and there are cute babies, so it’s just me I guess. I’m sure if I’d seen me as a baby, I would have run away in absolute dread. And don’t even get me started about work colleagues who insist on showing me pictures of their newborn.

I’m also scared of holding babies, not least because of the sudden unannounced burst of bodily excretions they so obligingly send forth my way, but also because they’re so small and I might accidentally drop them and they might fall through the cracks on the kitchen floor and be lost forever, doomed to be raised by a foster family of cockroaches.

So I approach babies with a healthy sense of caution, and exercise even more caution with the parents, grandparents and other family members involved, because invariably something I say is bound to upset someone. I think I lack that particular part of the brain that deals with baby-and-new-parents-social-skills, or maybe the years of alcohol and drug abuse have destroyed it completely.

But come to think of it, we have a few things in common, babies and I, such as -

· Lack of hair.
· Easily amused, especially by little colourful objects that can be swallowed.
· A strong affinity for boobs.
· A tendency to drool (in my case, especially when boobs are involved)

There you go, put a diaper on me and send me into the infirmary, and I’d be drooling away with the best of them.

Anyhoo, so there I was at H’s house, speaking to the newborn’s happy grandparents, sighing inwardly that the conversation was going quite well. Thankfully, H has warned them that I was a dumbass when it came to babies, and she herself was quite good about it, bless her. And V was, well, she was just happily doing whatever it is 3-and-a-half-week-old babies do.

I think I learnt more about babies in that one day than I did in the other 28 years of my existence. For example, that they couldn’t focus their eyes just yet. And strangely enough, I was feeling quite comfortable, partly due to the fact that I had just downed a beer, and the whole awkward conversation had gone by without incident. So when asked if I wanted to hold the baby, I said “Yeah, OK”, surprising even myself.

Next thing I know, I was cradling V in my arms with H giving me instructions on how to hold her properly. I’ve never held a baby that young before. And at that moment, when I looked at V, and she looked back at me with her out-of-focus eyes, I kind of got what the fuss was all about. I understood it, this whole baby thing. Thankfully, during this epiphany, I didn’t drop her.

So there it is. Not that I suddenly have the urge to become a father or anything so extreme. No, these instincts that have been woken inside are strictly avuncular. But I’m not scared of babies anymore. And I think I’ll do alright with newborns and parents and grandparents in the future.

PS – All the best, little V. I’m sure you’ll do just fine!

The More That Things Change...

2007-10-10T17:28:00.000+10:00

'All the same we take our chances
Laughed at by time, tricked by circumstances
Plus ca change...plus c'est la meme chose
The more that things change...the more they stay the same' - from "Circumstances" by Rush

...the more they stay the same.

It is coming close to 2 years since I started this blog. As is usual for me with all anniversaries, birthdays, and the like, I am troubled with the very heavy and very true realisation that over this period, little has changed. By that, I mean I have changed little.

Plenty has happened, for sure. Accomplishments, milestones & promotions at work, new friends made, old friends lost, new places seen, new things discovered, new highs, new (and sometimes the old) lows, new things purchased, old things given away, body art, new sounds, new music discovered, old music rediscovered, a love of whisky (single-malt) rekindled, a love of rum left to burn to embers, a new country that I am a citizen of, the old one I call home that I'll now need a visa for, a change of passports, a change of seasons...

I could goes on.

And in the midst of this change, there is me. The only constant amid the constant change.

I still stumble along awkwardly, worrying about how things will be. I still make the same mistakes over and over again. I still worry about whether people really like or not. I'm still no closer to buying a house than i was 2 years ago. I'm still no good with personal finances (which is fucking hilarious since I'm a Finance major), I still can't understand women, and have no idea if I'll ever be in a relationship that will go somewhere.

Sometimes I think I'm still the same scared little shit I was when I was 18, and I lost my mother, and I was even afraid to wonder what was going to happen to me.

That was 10 years ago, and I turned out OK, but there's still this thing, this nagging thought, this voice inside my head, that keeps reminding me that there's more to life than what I've got now, after all this. And maybe I could even get it, if I'd only get off my ass and do something about it, and not be content watching all the world pass me by.

I feel like I've failed. In the big contest that is life, I feel like I've failed. Stupid really, considering all I've got.

I have no idea how this is going to end. Perhaps I'll always feel this way. Perhaps it will motivate me to truly accomplish something in my life. Perhaps not.

Maybe I'll crash and burn. Or maybe I'll slowly fade away, into an ordinary-meaningless- suburban- potbellied-two-kids-and-a-nagging-wife life, leaving behind me a legacy of digital words and failed, faded dreams.

I have no idea how this is going to end. All the same, I, and the scared little boy inside me, we take our chances...

Minor achievements...and somewhat major celebrations

2007-09-20T03:40:00.000+10:00

OK, I think this is getting to be a bad habit, where I update the blog only between 3-4 am on weeknights. Not cool, especially when I have so much work to do the next day.

Anyhoo...better than not updating it at all I suppose.

I wrote an incomplete post about some weekend adventures. Now it seems like many many weekends ago. But I shall complete it at some point. Until then...there's this.

As of September 13th, I am an Australian citizen. The true blue, beer-swilling, pie-eating, vegemite-fancying, waltzing Matilda type apparently. Though I must say I don't feel any different.

Felt a slight pang of guilt as I went through the ceremony, as I now have to renounce the Motherland. I guess the reality will hit when I get a new passport and I have to give the old one up. But, it's all for the best. The Aussie passport is my ticket to hassle-free visits to foreign lands, or so I hope.

Didn't exactly celebrate with great gusto, but coincidentally, the weekend following this little milestone, I went on a road trip with some mates (notice the sly inclusion of aussie terms), and had a massive drinking session, which I think is celebration enough for this.

Oh, yes, I also boought me a nice little electric guitar. A Fender Strat..70's re-issue, black. That, along with a Roland Cube 20, are now my new favourite things.

And now, I must go sleep.

Resurrection... (aka Wednesday I'd be Paul Simon)

2007-08-28T02:52:00.000+10:00

Tuesday Morning 3am.

5 months and 4 days since the last post. It's a wonder that Blogger still has my details saved. I didn't have to log in. Whodathunk?

I'm waiting. Waiting for lots of things. Mainly sleep. But sleep is not coming. Actually, sleep came. We hung out for a few hours. Then sleep went. I watched Boston Legal on TV while eating rice, rasam and vendakai curry. I'm waiting for sleep to come back. Sleep is not returning in a hurry.

I bet Paul Simon has never eaten rasam and vendakai curry.

Much has happened since I last wrote. Much has happened this year that I haven't written about previously, since I was still stuck in November last year. Brief summary for those interested.

New Zealand trip in December/January. Very relaxing. Stayed mainly in Auckland, enjoying the South Indian hospitality and cooking of my housemate's family. Saw bits of the famed NZ countryside, did the bungee (very exciting), and went white-water rafting (most excellent). Caught up with old friends i didn't think I'd meet, once again proving the world is minuscule. Kicked off 28th birthday celebrations in Auckland, and then continued it in Melbourne, making it a truly global (well, southern hemispherical, if you must) birthday. Partied like I was 22. Still not getting any wiser or more mature.

Indonesia trip in January. Met off key chick friend. Jakarta was lots of fun. Not wanting to get into too much detail, but two volcanoes, one rainforest, plenty of ancient temples, bars, pubs , and one classic rock cafe later, I was sorry the holiday had to end. Not to mention that my friend had a maid and all I had to do was look in the direction of the kitchen and some snacks would be served. It was awesome...

February. 2 concerts. Roger Waters - simply superb. Eric Clapton - good, but right after Waters, not as great.

April. 2 concerts. Bela Fleck and the Flecktones. Mother Key!!!!!!! The Lemonheads. Enjoyable, but I didn't know too many of the songs. It was a free concert for me, because Penny Lane's uber-cool aunt and uncle bought me tickets.

Trip to Japan in April. It was one of the best holidays I've had yet. I think it was partly because of the sufficient amount of planning that went into it. I did next to no planning for the other two trips. That, and the fact that Japan is a beautiful place, it was cherry blossom season, and I got to hang out with one of my best friends. Highly recommended holiday spot!

Came back from Japan to find out just how much work can suck.

June. Short trip to India, to witness wedding of good friend. Survived various attempts by aunties in social network to get me married to randoms. Escaped with minor injuries and ominous threats of "You're next, young man. Soon your time will come!" still ringing in my ears.

August. Missed a Black Sabbath concert because of work. 'Tis not often i show this much dedication. Saw a Bob Dylan concert, and ended up wishing I had missed that too. Let me give it to you straight. Bob Dylan sucks. Bob Dylan is a goat. If he is playing in a concert near you, avoid it like brain cancer. You'd be much better off listening to his songs on CD.

Paul Simon, I believe, is not a goat.

I believe the circle of friends has undergone some major changes, what with people leaving the country, new friends being made, others getting engaged or married, and some others having babies. Still, the parties keep happening, and I keep celebrating Sunday on the Saturday night, and wake up wishing Monday didn't arrive. Just last week, I bid farewell to 3 good friends. Oh well you know, life goes on....

Oh, yes, slowly but surely, the Australian citizenship comes ever closer within my grasp. On Thursday September 13th, I will have to send off pledge and national anthem in a citizenship ceremony. Have half a mind to slyly sneak in "India is my Country. All Indians are my..." and "Jana Gana Mana..." and see what happens.

Anyhoo...I think sleep has returned. So has spring. Life, in the words of Tom Lehrer, is skittles, and life is beer! Wotaylouly!

Excuse me while I poison some pigeons in my sleep...

Pieces of November

2007-03-24T12:27:00.000+11:00

I feel like bullet points. Put it down to the fact that I've been working on presentations most of this week.
I wrote a post earlier about what I did in November. This is an addendum to that. No one cares anymore what I did in November, but its more so for me to move on and write about December and the New Year.
A States-based friend of mine came to visit me. (She'll probably never read this anyway)
Showed her around Sydney (in some cases, she showed me around) and Melbourne.
I was at my man-magnetic best during this period! None of the guys even looked at her. They were busy looking at me, buying me drinks and what not. Very disturbing, yes, but I took the free drinks anyway...
No attention from the women, though. Very very disturbing!
Highlight of the trip, and the main point of this post - a bunch of us went camping. Bunch consisted of my housemates, States-based friend, world-famous blogger Penny Lane and her boyfriend.
We went to this place called Wilson's Prom(ontory). Beautiful spot to go camping and trekking.
Rocked up there on Saturday afternoon, set up tents, got the BBQ out, set up the portable iPod player, and proceeded to get smashed. (Yes, folks, this is our idea of roughing it. We went out to the wilderness, and made it our own personal backyard. Rough!)
Wilson's Prom has plenty of walking tracks and beaches all around. Sometimes the tracks lead to these beaches! Whoopdedoo!
One of the better known beaches is Squeaky Beach, so called because the sand squeaks when you walk on it. It was awesome! Surpassed all expectations. Superb white sand, and relatively empty (except for a dead seal-like creature). From memory, the sand is made of quartz crystals, which results in the squeaky sound. And it squeaked like an ensemble of mice on coke!
Spent the rest of the Saturday getting more drunk and eating more BBQ food. At some point, 'dead baby' jokes were told. ( I think I started that...)
Sunday - we went trekking. Walked up this hill track, reached the top an hour and a half later, and smoked up, while admiring the scenery (which got consistently better with each drag).
Spotted a snake on the way up. (I almost stepped on the damn thing.) Penny conquered her fears (well, for that moment anyway). She claimed later that it was a tiger snake and highly poisonous. This I can't say for sure. But knowing that Australia is chock-full of all types of cheerful creepy-crawlies that have enough venom in one bite to kill you and your extended family, I'd probably agree that it was highly poisonous.
All in all, a good time was had. I'm sure I have some pics from the trip. Are they going to see the light of day? Probably not.
I wish we had gone camping more than just once. Now the summer's nearly over. Damn!
My States-based friend had a great time, and absolutely loved Australia. Which only proves that we folks down under know how to party!
There, I did it. It's finished. Now we can all move on. Phew...

Silent Sorrow In Empty Boats

2007-03-13T23:49:00.000+11:00

Fuck Turd Art! I don't give a shit anymore, and neither do you.

The Wheel of Life, in all its mundane glory, begins another revolution.

Something tells me I've been here before.

Deja Frickin' Vu!

Not pleasant.

From out of the utter normalcy of the routine comes this sound, monotonous, high-pitched, never-ending, the sound you hear when someone punches you in the ear.

It's coming from inside me. And it's getting louder.

It's my inside screaming.

In Fear. In Regret. In Sorrow.

For Change. For Love. For Help.

I'm lying in bed with the light on, staring at the ceiling, with nothing but the 'tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock...' of the clock and the 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...' in my ears, the realisation slowly dawning that life, at this very moment, sucks.

I'm just being a wanker. Maybe I shouldn't have had those baked beans for dinner.

What can I say? I'm a gloomy bastard. Go figure...

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

Apologies at Midnight

2007-02-22T00:14:00.000+11:00

Sorry about the distinct lack of posts.

The mind is willing, but the fingers are otherwise occupied.

I will write about turds this weekend, once all the work is done.

I hope you all still love me.

It is now 12:16 AM. Bedtime for Rael.

Good Night. Watch this space.

Pic-ASS-o

2007-02-08T14:11:00.000+11:00

I’m sitting at my desk on Wednesday with nothing much to do. The last few days kept me pretty busy, and now I’m savouring the free time. Out here at work, the company subscribes to a few magazines, and someone helpfully deposits the January edition of the Risk Management Magazine. Most of you would probably rather wade through a pile of manure than read the Risk Management Magazine, but, well, this is my line of work (risk management, not manure-wading, just so we’re clear). I flip through the pages and glance at the articles to see if anything catches my interest. And there it was. At the last page, in the section titled Risky Business, was this little gem. I paraphrase it below.

The main point behind the article, and its relevance to risky business, is that one should keep any unusual hobbies/extracurricular activities secret from one’s colleagues. In Virginia, USA, an art teacher, Stan Murmur, failed to do this, and was suspended from his job after his superiors learned of his special hobby – painting with his buttocks. Apparently, the superiors deemed his unique talents and his (back)side business unacceptable, even though he paints under a pseudonym, and immediately sent him on paid leave. (To digress a little, I wish my superiors would send me on paid leave! Anyhoo…)

The article also states that Murmur’s butt-pressings often resemble butterflies and flowers, and can go for somewhere between US $619 - $1,113. His work is displayed at this website. I have only had a quick peek at it, but according to the article, ‘there is even a video on YouTube that walks you through the unique art of pressing bare, paint-covered buttocks onto canvas, should anyone wish to adopt a trend that is sure to take the art world by storm in 2007’.

Reports that Murmur’s students protested their teacher’s exile by photocopying their own buttocks en masse could not be confirmed.

What’s the strangest extracurricular activity you’ve ever heard of? If you think this is strange, wait till you see my next post. We move from buttock-painting to the next logical topic. If you thought ‘Puppetry of the Penis’, good guess, but no. It is Turd Art.

I shit (excuse the pun) you not!

Pointless

2007-02-07T15:21:00.000+11:00

Three weeks have passed, and the blog backlog builds up. I returned a week ago from a short but eventful trip to Indonesia. Since my return I have been to two concerts – Roger Waters and Eric Clapton. Now I have to write about all of these, and here I am still trying to finish writing about what I did in November.

Yes. I’m a bad bad blogger. Spank me.

I may be completely wrong, but I think the interest this blog generates has diminished of late. I get the feeling that not so many people visit anymore. Not that I care. I’m going to write stuff anyway, sporadically or otherwise. But I can’t help getting that feeling.

These recent vacations to Auckland and Jakarta involved some severe consumption of alcohol and food, surprisingly (for me), more food that alcohol. As a result, I am fat. I’ve had grand plans for some time now to magically lose all this weight and metamorph into a Bruce Lee-like body, complete with kung-fu skills and Cantonese accent. Alas, this is not easy. Apparently, it’s very very hard (read – impossible). So I’ve settled for a lesser goal - reasonably lean body minus accent and kung-fu skills. Apparently, even this is not easy. A wise man dressed as a fitness instructor told me it involves exercise and a healthy diet, and dedication and motivation.

Whodathot?!

Anyhoo, given my rather alarming lack of motivation to do anything, except watch TV while inclining horizontally, I don’t think I am going to lose any weight. What I need right now is some major stress at work, or maybe some emotional trauma. I hear this results in rapid weight loss.

Last night, during one of these horizontally-inclined-TV-binges, I thought I felt my creative juices flowing inside me. (I found out later it was a false alarm, and that it was just gas.) But between the thought and the burp, I came up with a short (I mean really REALLY short) story. I have included it here for your reading pleasure. You’re welcome.

Untitled Really Really Short Story

Once upon a time, there was a man.

He died.

BURP!

The End

I told you the post was pointless. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I was going to title the post 'Untitled'. Then I decided to go with 'Untitled and Pointless', but realized that this is actually a title. So finally, it was just 'Pointless'. I write all this assuming you care a lot.

My next post will not be about what I did in November. It will be about buttocks. I'm sure you're tingling with anticipation.

God's Playlist

2007-01-17T16:42:00.000+11:00

Yeah yeah I know I was supposed to write about December. I'm busy! I'll get to it.

But in the meantime...

I was on my way to work today, lost in the deafening riffs and general gloom of Black Sabbath's 'Sabbath Bloody Sabbath', when this girl (young, long blonde hair, skinny legs, shy smile...just in case you were wondering) stopped me and handed me a flyer.

It had the words "PRAYER STATION" on it, and asked "Would you like someone to pray with you?"

Coincidence, you think? Naaaah! More like divine intervention.

Methinks the Jesus is listening.

Maybe not to Black Sabbath, but He is listening...

What do you think He's listening to now?

A Day At The Races, And Many Nights At The Concerts

2007-01-13T23:07:00.000+11:00

Think think think!! What did I do in November??? Ah yes, Derby Day! November is the time of the spring racing carnival in Victoria. A number of horse races, the grandest of these being the Melbourne Cup race, which is so important it is a public holiday in Melbourne. Almost as popular is the Victoria Derby, which is called Derby Day. I've never been to the Melbourne Cup, but this was my second time to Derby Day. I've been told its more fun.

What do people do at the races? Everyone dresses in their Sunday best, the men in the finest suits, and the women in dresses and hats or feathers in their hair, and then proceed to get completely drunk on champagne, beer and/or wine. Some of these people watch the horses run and place bets. As you can see, it's loads of fun.

This time around, it promised to be better than my previous time. A colleague of mine had organised a marquee, with supposedly unlimited quantities of alcohol, and even a significant amount of food. I'd invited my housemate along, and the both of us had some breakfast, and donned our suits, and headed off. My colleague had invited about 30 people most of them from my work, so there were a lot of people I knew and it was good fun. We got to the marquee at about 11.30 am to find out that the guy had really done a good job organising everything. It was a really nice, sunny day, and pretty soon, I was about 5 beers down and feeling extremely good, in spite of the fact that I had lost about 30 bucks betting. Shortly after, I lost count of the beers.

From then on, it was all a blur of beer, sun, random conversation, and the occasional race. Now here comes the major embarrassing moment. I've been wondering a long time whether to write about this or not, and finally said, "Fuck It!". Some people know about this anyway. It's embarrassing only for me. And all of you will find it hilarious.

So there I was, many beers later, around 4 in the afternoon, and wanting to pee. Being a race ground, the loos were all these makeshift port-a-loos all set up, and one had to trek a fair bit to get to the nearest one. And once you got there, there was a long (and I mean LONG) queue. So anyway, I got to the loo and was waiting my turn, when I spotted my housemate there. He had just finished, and so he decided to hang around and wait for me. Now it's my turn. So I go to the urinal, pull out the, ahem, wienerschnitzel, and start to pee. Then, (wait for it), in mid-urination, I fell asleep! (Well, technically, I didn't fall.... I just stood there holding Mr. Johnson).

I know what you're thinking, you're thinking that's impossible. Well, it's true. What can I say? I was really really drunk. And besides, why would I make up something like this anyway?

This is when the people behind me started getting restless, and asked me to hurry up. Then another guy beside me said "Hey Man, this bald guy is asleep! He's fucking sleeping".

And my housemate goes, "No mate, he's still peeing".

And the other guy says, "Mate! He's not peeing! He's fucking asleep!"

At this point, I was woken up. Everyone was laughing and I didn't really care. My housemate dragged me out of the loo, and he was concerned at the start, but seeing I was OK, his concern gave way to total amusement, and he was laughing his ass off. We walked back to the marquee, and I didn't even bother telling him to shut up. I knew, he would tell everyone at some point anyway.

So, we went back and I had another beer. I was wide awake by then, and I needed a drink. Pretty soon, I had to pee. I didn't really manage to go the last time. So I went back again to the loo again, and this time I didn't sleep. In fact, I think I made sure everyone in the loo knew I was peeing. I said something along the lines of, "Look at me, motherfuckers, I'm peeing. I'M PEEING! Who's your daddy now?". Everyone thought that the short brown bald guy was nuts. But they were all drunk, so no one really cared too much.

OK, that was it. Hope you enjoyed that. The races got over by about 6PM, and the majority of the gang went to the city to various pubs and continued drinking ourselves silly. To my credit, I continued drinking till about 2AM at night. Amazing what a little power nap in the loo can do.

That was the races. Now on to the concerts. November was a glorious month for concerts. I'd already talked about one, Sasha & Digweed, in an earlier post. Sasha & Digweed is not really my kind of concert. Having said that, I've seen Sasha once before, and at both these concerts, I had an awesome time. I'd probably go again.

My kind of concert. There were plenty of these in November. First up, Billy Joel. A good friend of mine, Kartik, once commented that he ranked Billy Joel as one of the best concerts he's been to, and he's been to a few. I now know what he was talking about. Billy was awesome! He rocked.

The defining moment in the concert, funnily enough, was not when Billy Joel was singing. He took the backseat and played the guitar while a roadie of his (named 'Chainsaw'!) got up on stage and sang 'Highway To Hell'. Now when you sing an AC/DC classic to a Melbourne crowd, you're going to win a lot of friends. Chainsaw stole the show that night, and the entire crowd was on their feet. Pretty cool of Billy to do that though.

A week after Billy Joel was a series of 3 consecutive nights of 3 concerts. Pearl Jam. I almost didn't go for this one. I used to listen to a lot of Pearl Jam in high school and uni, but I hadn't heard any of the new stuff. But I knew some friends of mine were going, so I was pretty excited about it. We met up for a few drinks before the concert and set off. It was an awesome concert, and it was one of those concerts where I didn't feel out of place by being one of the youngest in the crowd of old people (this is what happens when you like classic rock and see bands like the Stones and Tull in concert). Eddie was wasted by the end of the concert, and even had a fall, but he kept on singing. I was on my feet all through the concert singing along to Rearviewmirror and Jeremy and Alive. They finished off with a couple of covers (MC5's Kick Out The Jams and Neil Young's Rocking In the Free World), playing with the lights on, and ending with some drunken games on stage. Good fun.

Defining moment - I saw this old lady (possibly Indian, because I could swear she had a 'bindi' on her forehead) seated two rows in front of me. When I say old, I mean about 45-50. Remember what i was saying about being out of place. Now she looked out of place. I thought maybe she was there chaperoning her kid or something, because I noticed a couple of young kids next to her. But no, it became pretty obvious that she was by herself, and she seemed to having an awesome time, clicking snaps of Eddie, and jumping up and down to Pearl Jam's latest along with the best of the grungy teens. Amused me no end, and made me feel good about life in general. Wherever you are, lady, keep on rocking!

The next concert was the Pink Floyd Experience, a Kiwi Pink Floyd tribute band. I went for it assuming that if you're making a living singing someone else's songs, you'd have to be pretty damn good at it, perhaps even better than the original. Besides, I don't think Pink Floyd is touring anytime soon (Well, Roger Waters is, which is the next best thing, but not Pink Floyd).
These guys didn't disappoint. They played 'Dark Side Of The Moon' and 'The Wall' in entirety. And they had all the sound, lights and theatrics to go with it. It was like watching a play, with Pink Floyd playing the soundtrack. It was awesome. The hip-flask of whisky helped make it complete.

Defining moment - They built an entire fucking wall, brick by thermocol brick, on stage! And then they tore it down. Now you have to admit that's pretty cool!

And then, the grand finale, U2. What can I say? Much awaited, much hyped, much talked about, much preparation. We met at Penny Lane's place beforehand for drinks and food, and to familiarise ourselves with some U2 songs, just in case we missed out in the last couple of decades. We thought about going early so we could get a good spot. We had general admission standing tickets, which in my opinion is the only way to see a concert. But then we heard that some people had already queued up since 7 in the morning to get good spots, so we decided to have as many drinks as we could and get there just in time for the concert. Turned out to be a good move. Found some spots relatively easily. Inspired by the whisky the night before, I decided to smuggle some hip flasks (among other things) into the concert, turning a deaf ear to the warnings of the rest of the bunch who said I'd get caught. I didn't get caught, and the whisky was consumed by all.

Anyway, the concert was BIG! It was in the Telstradome, probably the biggest venue Melbourne has to offer. I hadn't been to a concert there before, so it was quite exciting. Kanye West opened. I only knew one song. All I could think of Him was that he was sweating a lot. When U2 came on, I was actually at the bar buying some beer. Managed to find my way back to the gang, and was all set for a good show. I was hoping they would play some of their old songs. They did! I was hoping The Edge would sing. That was asking for too much!

Defining moment - I don't think there was one single moment that stood out, apart from when I carried girls on my shoulders. The show, simply put, was awesome! It just felt really good to be standing in a big crowd, hip-flask in my pocket, drink in my hand, passing a joint around, chick on my back, listening to U2.

I guess writing about concerts is a bit of a waste. You've really got to experience it firsthand.

And that's it for November.

Guess Who's Back?

2007-01-13T20:55:00.000+11:00

Folks, after a prolonged hiatus, I'm back. It seems so long ago since my last post, and so many things have happened since then, including Christmas, New Year, my birthday, and changes to Blogger. I've got a backlog of things to write about, going back to November. And I've resolved to do it.

First of all, Happy New Year to all of you readers. Hope you had a Merry Christmas, a wonderful holiday, and a good time on New Year's Eve. New Year's Eve was pretty quiet for me. I spent it in Auckland, in a house party with a bunch of new friends. An hour and a half in to the new year, the party stopped and everyone wanted to go to their respective houses. Not exactly my type of party. Oh well, I can't complain. I made up for it later, with a smashing birthday celebration.

I was supposed to go to KL for 3 weeks on work. I was all excited about it, even though it was tough work, and supposedly 14 hour days, 6 days a week. But that got cancelled at the last minute. ($%&#@^!!!). In retrospect, this is probably a good thing. It allows me to spend time in Melbourne and gives me time to catch up on all the things I've been meaning to do.

One more year gone by. The years are making a nasty habit of going by really quickly. I'm another year older. Bloody 28! It's that time of year when I usually make all these resolutions, most of which I do not keep. This time around, I've just been busy seeing places, meeting people, doing things. I haven't really sat down and given it much thought. But in the back of my mind, there's that little gnawing formation of a thought. A thought that's telling me I need to get my act together, make some plans, have some goals...that sort of thing.

Anyhoo, one thing I did want to do, as I mentioned earlier, is to blog more regularly. Maybe, just maybe, even put up a few pictures, (something this blog has been sorely missing).

It appears that the crap I write is more popular than I expected. To all of you who kept checking back over the last couple of months, and to those of you who kept asking for an update, thanks for waiting. I've finally listened.

So here we go. Rewinding back to November.

Chemical Youth (C11H15NO2)

2006-11-09T10:40:00.000+11:00

10.30pm 1whisky 10.45pm 1morewhisky 11pm 1ohms 11.20pm yetanotherwhisky youareamonkeywithacap wheredidthisjokercomefromanyway?? 11.30pm sasha&digweed 11.40pm 1beer whatisthismusicanyway?? 12am 0.5waitaminutefor15minutes 12.15 am lookatthelights 12.30am 0.5wait15minutesmore 12.40am thismusicnotsobad 12.45am thismusicreallygood 1am whoneedswater?? ineedswaterineedsit 1.10am thismusicisawesome letsgoupfront 1.20am upfrontlookatthelights where'stherestofthegang? whogivesafuck? 1.45am 1ohms lifeisgood 2.03am morewater movealongthenletsgofindtheothers 2.07am othersfound muchhugging 2.15am arewemissingsomeone i'llgobackandgethim 2.20am thebigreunion randomphotographstakenbycreepyoldguywithglasses 2.30am 1mandown4togo 2.40am famouspassout runtohouse whyarethegoddamnlightssofuckingbright?? imfreezingmyballsoff! 2.57am phewhereweareagainbackinsideallniceanddark thishmoozicishaaaawshum! 3.09am 0.5 sweatyhugsfromthejoker wherethefuckdidthisjokercomefromanyway?? 3.15am waterrun igot1bottleinmypocketand2inhand mynameisaquaman 3.41am 0.5 'nuffsaidletsdance 3.57am 2moredown2togo 4.17am 0.25 myscore2.25what'syourscoremuthafucka?? stilltrippin'stilldancin' 5.00am partnerincrimegetstiredandneedsarest 5.30am timetoleavethisjoint gnashgnashgnash 5.45am inthehouse 6am darksideofthemoonLP wotasooperidea gnashgnash 6.45am randomsongsfromhowtodismantleanatomicbomb gnash 7.20am trytosleep jawshurtin'teethgnashin' listentoiPod ineedsomeprogmetal achangeofseasons scenesfromamemory somebillyjoelperhaps 52ndstreet thestranger moreDT imagesandwords fallingintoinfinity lightsleep thisroomistoobright wherearemyshades?? what'sthetime?? 11.30am stilltrippin' gnash ow!myjawhurts 11.40am coffee? yeahsure 11.52am let'swaketheothers 12.05am 1beer 12.30am stilltrippin' 1.30pm pizza 1.40pm lightrest music housesoftheholy lightsleep 3pm home onlywenttosleepatmidnight endofstory

wotaloulytripitwas...

(I started this post almost 10 days ago, but circumstances prevented me from completing it earlier. Finally, it is done.)

Today is not my Birthday

2006-11-03T15:24:00.000+11:00

Today is the 3rd of November.

Today is Friday.

Today is blue skies.

Today is not my Birthday.

Today I'm 10,163 days and 10 hours old.

Today I overate and I'm full.

Today I'm tired and sleepy.

Today I'm procrastinating.

Today is more than half finished.

Today I can't wait for tomorrow.

The Watery Side of the Pink

2006-11-03T14:15:00.000+11:00

Folks, the blog has been up and running for more than a year now, but with only 38 posts to show for it. I was going to post something earlier this week, and I started writing stuff, but then I had heaps of work to do this past week, and my social life has suddenly become rather active, what with a number of parties at my place (though with the same people...not that I'm complaining), that I haven't got round to completing these posts. I will do that soon.

But before this blog completely rots away with neglect, I need to post something quick. So I've stolen 15 minutes from work to type this post.

Roger Waters is playing in Australia in February. I was in Bangalore during his concert, but I didn't go, choosing instead to go pub-hopping and drink copious quantities of beer. I can't remember why I did that. Probably seemed like a good idea at the time. This time around, I'm making sure I see the concert. Already bought my tickets.

Penny Lane and I were doing some severe drunken bonding last Friday at her place, and we put a few LPs on the record player and gave them a whirl. One of them was 'The Dark Side of the Moon'. It's been ages since I heard 'Dark Side', let alone on LP. Having consumed sufficient quantities of alcohol, it was a trulyloulysuperduper experience. We also had the usual arguments of how Waters was Pink Floyd and how it all sucked without him. Penny was for Waters and I was trying to get her to see how much Gilmour and the other two chaps contributed to the songs. This went nowhere, and in the end we gave it up.

I used to own my very own LP of the album back in the day. 10th grade I think it was. Floyd still remain one of my all-time favourite bands, thanks in part to Waters' brilliant lyrics and concepts and to Gilmour's world-famous guitar style and tone. While 'The Wall' is my favourite album of theirs, 'Dark Side' comes a close second. Oddly enough, it's because of a very cheesy reason, apart from the fact that the songs are awesome. When the last song - Eclipse - comes to a close and during the fading heartbeats at the end of the album, you hear a mans' voice saying, "There is no dark side of the moon really...matter of fact it's all dark!"

Makes me smile everytime I listen to it.

This is the voice of Gerry Driscoll, who was the doorman of Abbey Road Studios at the time. Incidentally, the manic laughter on 'Brain Damage' is by Peter Watts, Floyd's exec road manager at the time. He is also the father of Naomi Watts, world-famous Hollywood actress.

Another interesting bit of trivia, the name Pink Floyd is derived from the names of Syd Barrett's cats, Pink and Floyd, who in turn were named after two blues musicians from Georgia, Pink Anderson and Floyd Council.

And with that, the blog lives...

The Wedding Singer

2006-10-04T17:03:00.000+10:00

How did I get myself into this? Oh yes, I was plastered at the time. %*###^& !!! This should be reason enough to stop drinking.

Ok, here's the situation. A friend of mine asked me, at one of these random parties when I was mother-drunk, to compose a song for her wedding, which, by the way, is fast approaching. Apparently, drunken fool that I am, I had agreed then. She's now holding me to my word. This is going to be the couple's song or something like that. You'd think I'd be quite pleased and honoured by this request, but no. I'm actually dreading it.

Why me? The only things I've composed in my life are emails. Gaaah!

Like someone very rightly pointed out, why can't they get a DJ and play some CDs like everyone else?!

Now, for those of you who don't already know, I've sung at weddings before. Well, at the reception afterwards anyway. Twice.

The first time was planned, and we had practiced. It was in some beach house reception party in Chennai. It was horrible. ( My singing and playing, I mean, not the party). I believe some of the guests were scarred for life. Thankfully, the couple are still happily married and remain my good friends, for some strange reason, so I can't have done too much damage. Shortly after that, our (band?) split up and I decided to flee the country, move to Australia, shave my head and stay away from weddings.

3 years after that incident, I felt it was safe to attend weddings again, without people flinging things in my general direction. And this wedding I had to attend. (Ahem...ex-girlfriend and all that.) Anyhoo, there I was at the wedding reception in the Cochin Yacht club, minding my own business, 6 drinks down, listening to the resident Mallu band dish out some staple Elvis and Cliff Richard, when some very enthustiastic uncle found out I could sing and dragged me off to the stage. Suddenly there I was, conversing to the bassist of the aforementioned Mallu band, and telling him we're going to play some CCR. I think most of the guests were taken by surprise, but in the end, I vaguely remember hearing applause. It was definitely better than 3 years ago.

After playing another song, I snuck off stage and tried to make myself invisible. That didn't work, because some other uncle, from the groom's side, came up to me and offered me a job. Said he was a music talent scout or some such thing, and apparently he thought I had talent. Loads of it. For a fleeting moment, I considered throwing away my day job and becoming the resident wedding singer of the Cochin Yacht Club, playing the token wedding songs, in return for unlimited amounts of toddy, banana chips fried in coconut oil and fish curry. Ahh, the life...Fame! Glory! Fish! Then reality bit me in the ass. I looked the drunk (so-called) talent scout squarely in the eye, and said "Thanks, but no thanks", and scooted to get some food.

Right, now here I go again. Ans this time I have to actually compose a song. Write lyrics and stuff! Gulp! Obviously someone has grossly over-estimated my talents.

This wedding singing business is getting to be a bad habit, and it worries me. No good will come of this.

HEEEELP!!!

Everything I Know, I Learnt From TV

2006-09-26T00:19:00.000+10:00

"All I need is a TV show..."

Pearls of infinite wisdom gained from watching 2 hours of prime-time sitcom, and it was free-to-air too.

Life is not a spectator sport.
Albert Einstein once said "The question that sometimes drives me hazy - Am I, or are they, crazy?"
"You're a good lawyer. You're just not Denny Crane."

Deep!

Who needs books? Who needs education? Who needs cable?

"Not I", said the fish.

Thanks for watching.

Tag

2006-09-25T13:08:00.000+10:00

The Sac has put off the tag. In response, here are eight things about me. Some of these are from an email I'd sent around to a few people last year, though I have no record of this email anymore, so I'm typing it all again anyway.

I did my kindergarten in a girls' school in Pondicherry. This explains why I'm such a ladies' man.
My earliest memory is my father and me standing in the driveway of my grandfather's tea estate in the Nilgiris, watching the hail falling, my father carrying me in his arms. I must have been about 1 and a half or 2 years old. That memory always makes me feel good.
I used to be a fat kid between the 4th and the 7th grade. This was when I lived in Abu Dhabi on a steady diet of chili chips and 7Up. Had my fair share of fat-kid-jokes and references to pigs and elephants. Then I came back to India and someone gave me a hockey stick and made me join the school hockey team. I was thin in 6 months. I make fun of fat people, but only, and I mean only, when I know they can take a joke and won't get hurt. All this drinking is now make me fat again.
I was rather a teachers' pet in high school. Some may even go so far as to call me a nerd. I maintained a good reputation mainly by staying under the radar and getting good grades. My reputation in college was very different. Despite my best efforts to stay under the radar, I soon acquired a bad rep just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anything went wrong anywhere in the campus, I would be one of the guys summoned by the chief warden, usually to be slapped silly. I was responsible for several bad (and by bad I mean bad like Jesse James) things during both school and college, but I never got caught for any of it.
My dad once told me the hardest thing to tell someone is to break the news that someone dear to them has died. Being a surgeon, he's done this a few times. Once, I tried saving the life of a guy who'd fallen off the fourth floor of a building in Chennai. He'd suffered severe head wounds. I happened to be passing by. The ambulance was taking too long to arrive, and there wasn't a car in sight, so I carried this guy to the hospital in an autorickshaw. He died on the way. The doctor pronounced him dead on arrival, and refused to do anything more. Covered in his blood, I had to break the news to his wife and 3 year old kid. Personally, it wasn't that hard. I found it harder to break up with an ex of mine.
Whenever people ask me what my passion is, I say ‘music’, for want of a better answer. If I were truly passionate about music, I would be able to play the guitar really fucking well by now. Truth is, I don’t give that much of a shit about anything.
I am agnostic. I have not always been, but I am now. Some people have told me that it's just sitting on the fence and not being able to decide between theism and atheism. To quote Neil Peart 'If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice'. I've made a choice. Get stuffed.
I have been referred to by various names over the years. It appears that my real first name is not good enough for people. Even my dad refers to me mainly as "Chief". In no particular order, here is an incomplete list - Charlie, Dunston, Damien, Chief, Devil, Satan, NonBass, Junster, Urgee and Rael. Of these, Rael is the only name I gave myself.

There you have it. Now, whom to tag? Well, here goes. If you haven't already been tagged, then Geek, D&C, Naaz, Me-Moi-Myself, Rat and Penny, you are now. (That makes 6, though I'm not sure if some of these people are blogging any more, or even if they're reading mine.)

Mother, should I run for President?

2006-09-22T15:39:00.000+10:00

When I first started this blog, I wanted to remain anonymous for a good reason. Admittedly, most of the stuff I post is a pile of poo, but in the midst of all this excrement one can find honest, personal stuff about me. Stuff that'll probably get me in trouble one day.

A wise man once told me, " If you put up personal stuff on the www, it becomes public knowledge. and no matter how anonymous you wish to remain, someone will find out your real identity. So if you're going to do this anyway, know this - You can't run for President."

I had no intention of running for President then. I still don't. But I still didn't want to reveal my identity outright. It's much easier having your say, posting your opinions and writing about personal things when you know that the random person reading it doesn't know who you really are.

Then I had the bright idea to link this to my Orkut Profile. It still remains linked. Somehow I don't think that was very smart of me. Not exactly oozing with genius, that move. I've really gone and done it this time. No Presidency for me.

I say it again, I have no intention of running for President. But what if I become a captain of industry? What if I become famous, or even quasi-famous? (You never know!) What if I go on Australian Idol? (Like I said, you never know!) Anyone with half a nose for a news story will probably find this blog in under 4 minutes and then my past will come back to haunt me in the form of Pg 3 headlines.

Then I'll probably fall from grace, be reduced to living in a cardboard box, drinking cheap wine from a brown paper bag and wallowing in a pool of my vomit.

I remember reading in one of Scott Adams' posts, something vaguely about fate or destiny and choices we make or whatever. He asked the question, "Will you become a captain of industry or will you drown in your own vomit?" The way things are going, I'm progressing towards the vomit.

Careful With That Axe, Eugene

2006-09-07T17:59:00.000+10:00

Yesterday was the first time since I moved into the new house (and that was 3 weeks ago) that I picked up my guitar again and played. It felt good, but quickly turned sour when I realised how much I’d forgotten. It’s a feeling I’m used to by now because I’ve done this so often. I keep telling myself to practise everyday, but I fail to follow through.

It’s not easy learning an instrument. Sure, it’s a lot of fun and its relaxing after a while, but like most things in life, it involves hard work, time and discipline. Many times, people have heard me play (usually at some house party where everyone’s pissed as a pirate’s parrot) and then they say, “I’ve always wanted to learn the guitar. You play really well. Can you teach me?” Praise, that’s all I need. I know I’m far from being a great guitarist, but I know enough to teach people a few chords, and send them off on their path of guitar education. So I always say, “Sure, I’ll be glad to teach you.” In most cases, these people give up a few days later. Like I said, it’s hard. More so at the start. Monotonous finger exercises, the pain in your fingertips, and buckets of frustration. I don’t blame them for giving up. I almost gave up.

But then there are a few who persist. And that’s when the fun part begins. And one of these guys is the reason for this post. He's acknowledged me in his blog. Reading that post got me thinking about how I started out, and it brought back a lot of memories.

Memories of school. 11th grade, when I first started playing. My first guitar, an old beat-up acoustic rescued from someone’s loft. I thought I’d keep it forever. Me, Faiz and Kartik, strumming away in my terrace. Faiz being the electric whiz-kid and converting the acoustics to electrics. Buying amps at Richie Street. Using my grandmother’s transistor radio as a pre-amp. Distortion. Loud, stinking, beautiful distortion. Memories of my grandmother being less than amused when her transistor radio stopped working. All those trips to Pro Music. The ‘Only the Brave’ bass. School culturals. Stairway to Heaven. Nataraja and the Nylon Knickers. Vasanth and I playing for the inter-house culturals. Michael Learns to Bloody Rock. Who the fuck picked that song anyway? (Bad memory. Arrrghh!!). The (world-famous) Rubber Band. God, how we sucked. But it was so much fun.

Memories of college. Me - naïve, bespectacled, with hair on my head, the innocent little college student. Music Nites. Learning to sing in key. Wish You Were Here. Freefalling. Buying my second guitar for 200 rupees. Music Club. Acoustic Night. GooGoo and I playing Beatles songs. Raag Bhairavi.

Various jam sessions along the way. And what a trip it has been!

‘Hotel California’ was the first song I learnt. As far as first songs go, it's not that easy. I’ve never bothered trying to improve my playing that song. I still know only the chords, and have no idea how to play the lead or any fills. I still play it the way I used to play it all those years ago.

The thing about learning an instrument is this – you never stop learning. As far as my learning is concerned, I’m stuck in this plateau. Can’t see anything for miles and miles and miles. Hopefully this will change. I don’t know how long it’ll take, and frankly that’s something I should not worry about. With practice, the plateau will pass, and the next level will be in sight.

I keep telling myself I should practise more often. To paraphrase Frank Zappa, I should just ‘shut up and play my guitar’!

Before I shut up, I’d like to acknowledge a few people responsible for sending me off on my 6-string voyage, and for making it highly enjoyable. Faiz, Kartik, Vasanth M, Rohit KC, Rozy, Adrish, GooGoo, Siddharth Rajan, Ramu, Bass Arjun and Rohit Fernandes. Thanks heaps, wherever you are!

Play on...

A Quick Note

2006-09-04T11:56:00.000+10:00

I've made a few minor changes to the blog. Anyone who has clicked on the link to Sac's blog, with the fond hope of reading his highly entertaining posts, only to find some strange Chinese blog...you need no longer despair. The link now takes you to his new blog. (Apparently, he accidentally deleted the old one. I didn't know you could do that, but he has proved that this is indeed possible. Then some random Asian guy hijacked his url. Life sucked for a bit, but it appears all is hunky dory once again.)

I've also added links to more blogs, mostly those of former classmates and friends from school and college.

Over the next few days, I will hopefully get around to writing about my recent trip to Queensland.

Read on, and enjoy...

It Makes Perfect Census

2006-09-04T10:32:00.000+10:00

Following on from the previous post about Pastafarianism, apparently there was a recent movement in Australia by the Australian Church of the FSM, to use the 2006 Census to raise awareness about His Supreme Noodliness (I made that term up, I don't know if it is actually used by anyone else). So the website of the Australian Church of the FSM (which is a blog, and strangely enough, they have provided a link to their blog in their blog! Go figure...) urged all Pastafarians to record their religion in the Census form as 'Pastafarian'. The idea being, presumably, that an overwhelming response would result in some media publicity and therefore increase awareness. I highly doubt that the Australian Bureau of Statistics would recognise Pastafarianism as an actual religion. Then again, they just might. You never know.

The census date this year was on the 8th of August. It'll be interesting to see what the outcome of this is.

Back in 2001, there was a big hue and cry when several people in Australia, New Zealand and few other countries recorded their religion in the census form as 'Jedi' or 'Jedi Knight'. Apparently, there was an overwhelming response. This was seen as a huge practical joke, and the responses were declared as being unofficial, but if they were, the second biggest religion in New Zealand would have been Jedi! Hilarious. You can read about it here.

On another note, I'm pretty sure I remember one of the choices listed in the Census form under 'Religion' was 'Salvation Army'. Is it just me, or does that not make any sense?

Arrr, Where's the Rum Gone?

2006-09-01T11:55:00.000+10:00

I was going to write this post over a month ago, when I saw ‘Pirates of the Caribbean 2’, (and when I first noticed that my eyesight was getting slightly worse in one eye). But then stuff happened, you know, and I just forgot about it. Finally got round to it now.

Here’s the deal. For those of you who don’t know, I wear contact lenses, without which I'm quite blind. A month ago, I realised that I couldn’t see as well with my right eye as I used to. So I went to the optometrist for a check-up and she said something about astigmatism, gave me some eye drops and sent me on my way.

But that’s not my point. The point, if I can call it that, is this. Given my rather fertile imagination, fuelled by the fact that I had just seen the aforementioned movie, where Mr. Depp once again gives an over-the-top performance as the uber-cool pirate Captain Jack Sparrow, I decided that this rather mild eye problem warranted an eye-patch. Having settled on the eye-patch, I thought it would really awesome to get a wooden peg and a talking parrot, and perhaps a hat with skull-and-crossbones. And of course, the most important thing of all, RUM. Lots of rum! If you want to talk like a pirate, drink an entire bottle of rum first. It’s much easier after that. Trust me, I know these things.

Let’s face it. Pirates are cool. But I can't just start dressing like a pirate. At work I’m expected to wear a suit and tie and look all professional. I’m pretty sure my boss will be less than amused when I turn up to work completely sozzled, with an eye-patch and a talking parrot on one shoulder. Now how does one get around this little problem?

And then it hit me! I could change my religion...to Pastafarianism! And worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster!

It’s a brilliant plan. That would sort everything out.

That would give me every right to dress up like a pirate, talk like a pirate, and while the religion does not advocate drinking lots of rum, I’m pretty sure it is what any pirate worth his sea-salt would do.

Arrrr! It be true, maties!

It has heaps of personal benefits. I’d save money on contact lenses, because I’d need them for only one eye. With a wooden peg, I’d only need one sock and one shoe. And I wouldn’t have those huge dry-cleaning bills anymore, because the suit’s gone. Might have to clean the birdshit from my right shoulder once a while though.

Actually, thinking about it, I probably won’t save any money at all. I’ll end up spending it on rum and birdseed. Unless I feed the bird rum as well. Hmmm…

Of course, I’ll be doing my bit for the environment, by helping reduce global warming.

You guys probably think I’m nuts, and have no idea what I’m talking about. Arrr, but you’ll see soon enough. I’ve provided some links below, that’ll help you make sense of it all.

Here’s the Wikipage on Pastafarianism.

And here’s the letter that started it all. You can see what I mean about global warming.

I’d probably do a bad job of explaining it anyway.

Besides, I’d rather be practicing my pirate speech, and drinking rum.

RAmen!

Prime Mover

2006-08-24T16:29:00.000+10:00

It’s been ages, abso-fuckin-lutely ages, since I’ve updated the blog. Thought no one cared, but it appears this blog is more popular than I think. And so, by popular demand, it’s back. (Allow me to inflate my ego just this once. I’m sure you won’t mind.)

A lot has happened since the last post. I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’m going to write about when I start a post, but not this time. Though I have much to say, I’m feeling a bit lost as to where to begin. Think I’ve gone a bit rusty with this whole post thing. So I’ve just decided to let my fingers do the talking, and type whatever they feel like. (Thank heavens for Autocorrect and Spellcheck, otherwise you’d have been reading 2 paragraphs of something like – Jsdg;ujb fkjabgkju aksjbgu agorjwe9g dflkn fflsbngl sfgnsglok 39ngkspsmsgnslonvf albawfb. Afolbnsgih aflnbaioangag!! Sglbsgj. No yhat t df;k…)

Ok, to begin with, I’ve moved house. I used to stay in a share-house with 3 other people, and Booboo the world-famous rabbit. (More on this in previous posts, such as Sunday). The place was really nice and I had a nice room, but the housemates I got along with really well moved out one by one. So I was left in a sticky situation with my name on the lease and some less-than-desirable housemates, and a rabbit. In the words of Snagglepuss, “Exit, hopin’ for the best, stage left even…” And that is exactly what I did.

I lived in this share-house with the intention of meeting new people (and not just Indians), expanding my horizons, and experiencing the Aussie culture. For a year and a half, it was awesome. I met new people from all over the place, and the horizons were sufficiently expanded. The Aussie culture, I have since learnt, is drinking lots of beer and bunging meat on a barbie and eating it. It’s a brilliant way to pass an afternoon. You should try it.

Anyhoo, now I’ve moved in with 2 other Indian boys to an apartment a few streets away from the old place. Still settling in, but the new place will hopefully turn into the party pad of the decade!! Hah! Have to wait and see.

Here’s a funny story. When I first went to inspect the place, I didn’t notice it, but my housemate pointed it out later, after we’d already taken the apartment. The front door had “U SUCK” in big letters. It had been painted over, which is why I didn’t notice, but it was still quite visible. Now that we know it’s there, we can’t escape it. I see it everyday when I come back from work. An inescapable reminder of, ahem, the previous tenant’s suckiness. I can assure you that we DO NOT suck! I believe the landlord is going to give it another coat of paint.

I live in this mother-posh neighbourhood called Toorak. It’s probably the richest neighbourhood in Melbourne. This means the rent costs me an arm and a leg. (I’m quite used to the crutches now, but wiping my ass is still a rather strange and painful experience.) Sorry, that was in really bad taste. People sometime ask me why I want to live in Toorak, especially some of the Indian cab drivers I meet. Good question, especially when I’m not filthy-stinking-rich. I could never really give them a proper answer, just something half-assed like, "Oh, it’s close to the city”, or “It’s a really nice neighbourhood” and all that.

But the other day I realised why. It was a Saturday morning. I strolled down to one of the numerous cafes down the street for a good coffee. I sat down with my coffee, and watched the world of Toorak pass by. The flashy Jags, Mercs, Beemers, the Ferraris and Maseratis, the rich retired old folk tottering by in their expensive clothes giving me dirty looks, the rich ladies stepping out of the local clinic with fresh injections of Botox, with the token Chihuahua or poodle, giving me dirty looks, the rich young crowd of people dressed in the latest metrosexual (or whatever) fashion, giving me strange looks, all of them wondering what the hell this bald Indian guy with the dirty Queensryche T-shirt is doing in their neighbourhood. And it just made me grin like an idiot.

The reason I stay in Toorak is this. I can explain it very succinctly in Tamil. I believe the term is ‘koodhi-nakkal’. And it feels pretty damn good!

Bombs Away

2006-07-12T16:50:00.000+10:00

I was going to write about pirates! I had the whole thing planned.

It'll have to wait.

All I've got in my head now is Sting's voice singing the chorus to the Police song 'Bombs Away'.

It goes like this -

"Bombs away
But we're OK
Bombs away
In old Bombay"

Thing is, not everyone's OK.

Fucking terrorists!!

Celebration Day

2006-06-17T11:19:00.000+10:00

Right then. Here's a few things to get excited about. Well, more for me to get excited about rather than you...but anyway.

I got a promotion at work. YESSSSS!!!! Came with a handy payrise. Woohoo! Severe career progression vibes. Watch as I slowly slither up the corporate ladder.
The 'Ryche is coming! Queensryche play in Melbourne in July, on their Operation:Mindcrime 1+2 tour.They have a place in the list of concerts to see before I die. Very happy that I can strike that off my list. Now if only the Beatles would get back together. Hmmm...
Russell Peters is doing a couple of shows in Melbourne. Some of you may have seen the video of his stand-up. (If not, I suggest you do so quickly. He is really funny.) Hard to believe how quickly the tickets sold out. I had to resort to bidding on Ebay, but I managed to get my hands on some tickets. Looking forward to it.
Then there's the World Cup. Probably the only sport that I have an interest in, but whattelouly game! Late nights and early mornings. I actually got up at 4.45 AM to watch Brazil play Croatia. Now that's dedication. Or lunacy. Depends on how you look at it.
Did I mention that I bought a new laptop? Well, now you know. Now that I'm suitably broadbanded, the world is mine for the taking. All I've been doing so far is download music and play computer games. Broken Sword and Myst. Great stuff! Really great stuff! Finally got around to typing my first post on the new machine. This is it.
With all the music downloads, I've discovered a couple of new bands. Finding new music gets me very excited. It's kinda like hot, raw, dirty, animal sex...only without the cigarette afterwards. Anyhooooo, moving swiftly along...there's this Australian band called The Church. Formed back in the 80's, but probably overshadowed by AC/DC, INXS and Men at Work. . Comes highly recommended to anyone who likes Dire Straits, U2, or the Beatles. I'd never heard of the band before, but you may have possibly heard a few songs. Check out 'Under the Milky Way Tonight', 'Reptile', 'Metropolis', and my current favourite "Numbers'. The other band is this UK band called Archive. Normally not the kind of music I'd listen to. They're in the Trip-Hop genre. But what they do, they do extremely well. There's this one song that I keep listening to again and again and again. It's called 'Again'. (Hah! I crack me up sometimes.) The original version is a little longer than 16 minutes, but there's radio edit version that's 4 minutes or so. If you like Pink Floyd and don't mind a bit of electronic music, this song is definitely worth it. Sounds especially awesome after a fat spliff!

And that's that. Now I am going to celebrate by doing what I do best...drinking myself silly. Might be a good idea to wait till the evening perhaps.

Naaahhh!

Waiting is overrated.

11.45 AM is as good a time for alcohol as any.

P.S. - The lead singer/songwriter/bassist for the Church has a blog. For those interested, check it out at Steve Kilbey.

Bluegoatsquash and Other Fun Experiments with Animals

2006-06-15T12:31:00.000+10:00

I haven't touched this blog for a while. Time for an update. Quite a few things have happened. But all that can wait. I'll just pick up from where the comments from the previous post left off, about shaving cats and rabbits and all that. I heard an interesting story a few days ago, which is in the same vein. This was told to me by a colleague at work. I don't know how true it is.

Quite understandably, some people would have found the idea of shaving a rabbit rather shocking. This story will also shock, but it might amuse a few. It does not involve rabbits. It involves a goat. Goats are funny. You can't argue with that. Apart from the goat, which is the main character, the story also involves a bell tower with a bell, razor blades, shaving cream, blue paint, and a bunch of rowdy (and presumably intoxicated) college students.

A bit of background first. Some Australian undergraduate college students stay in hostels while they study, like their counterparts in other parts of the world. For some strange reason, these hostels are referred to as schools or something. Not exactly sure, but it doesn't matter. I don't know why, when 'hostel' is a perfectly good term to use for these places. Anyhoo, each of these schools have a mascot. Some animal or the other. And the mascot for this one particular school (let's call it Queen, you'll see why in a bit) is a goat.

Apparently, these goats don't live very long. The current mascot is Bentleigh the 5th. A few goat generations ago, the Queen's goat (now you know why I wanted to call it Queen. Say Queen's goat 5 times and try not to laugh) was Bentleigh the 2nd. This story is about Bentleigh the 2nd, and how he came to a squishy end.

The story goes that a bunch of students got very drunk and decided to take Bentleigh the 2nd up the local bell tower. All the way up to the bell. Once there, they proceeded to shave the Queen's goat and then spray paint him blue. Shortly after that, the bell rung and Bentleigh the 2nd either jumped or was thrown off the bell tower, and all that remained was a lump of blue with a couple of horns sticking out.

It still remains a mystery as to whether Bentleigh was thrown from the tower, or whether he jumped. Personally, I think he jumped. It was the only thing he could do. Stop a moment, and put yourselves in Bentleigh's hooves. You're a goat, and you're up in a bell tower. Not very familiar territory, you can be sure. You've also just been shaved and spray painted blue. Then the bunch of hooligans who are with you in the bell tower, the perpetrators of these unspeakable activities upon yourself, ring the bell.

Given the situation, what would you do as Bentleigh the 2nd, the Queen's goat? Choose from the list below:

Bleat
Hop
Skip
Jump
Chew
Poop
Sing out Hare Krishna
Dance the Hoochie-Koo
Join the Blue Man Group

There you go. He jumped! Maybe he bleated and hopped and skipped and pooped as well, but he jumped.

Still, what led up to that was shocking. Which twisted soul would drag a goat up a bell tower, shave it and paint it blue?? Absolutely disgusting! Shocking!

I can understand if you'd want to paint it purple, or green, and maybe orange, but BLUE???

Nooooooo. Shocking!

P.S. - For all you concerned readers, BooBoo the rabbit still lives. Complete with the fur he came with. He leads a blissful existence in the backyard.

Sunday

2006-05-22T13:53:00.000+10:00

It was such a beautiful day on Sunday. Nice and sunny and not too cold. I decided to hang out in front of the house and have a cup of coffee and soak up some sun.

I live in a filthy rich neighbourhood. My neighbour two doors down plays pro-football (Aussie Rules Football). He's got a mansion with two big cars. Not a big deal really, because most of my neighbours have two cars, and usually one's a Jaguar or a Maserati or at least a Merc. And in the middle of this filthy richness, there's me and my housemates. We're the filth.

In our garage, there's a bicycle, a broken TV, two moth-eaten mattresses, and miscellaneous broken furniture - the trash legacy of a long line of former housemates never to return again. Between the four of us bums, we manage to fork out the rent. As long as we don't make the air smell bad with our averageness, the rich don't care too much. We even manage to get a smile or two from them, when we pass by.

So there I was, sipping my coffee and trying not to reek. I'm waiting for the new housemate to arrive and move his stuff in. Here's the story. One of my housemates is leaving next week. We got along like a house on fire. He'll be sorely missed. But this is what I get for living in a share-house. We found a new housemate last week to take his place. Seemed like a nice chap. Didn't give out any serial-killer vibes. Has a pet rabbit. Has a steady job. He'll be able to pay the rent on time. That'll do.

Andy, the new housemate, arrives. He's got quite a bit of stuff and he's brought a friend along to help him move it in. I finish my coffee and lend a hand. As we're moving stuff in, a blue BMW cruises in and comes to a halt across the road. This flaming gay dude gets out, looking severely like a Duran Duran reject. He's got the obligatory '80s hairstyle (apparently, it's back in fashion), tight blue jeans, crumpled white shirt, blue tie, and canvas shoes ( the kind I used to wear for PT class in the 3rd grade. This also, apparently, is back in fashion). The guy also looks like he's been partying all night and hasn't realised that Saturday turned into Sunday 12 hours ago. He had that look which said "What the fuck is up with all this daylight?!".

We continue to move Andy's stuff in. We're in the middle of manoeuvring this very large mattress inside the door when the Simon Le Bon wannabe calls out "Excuse Meeeeeeeeeeee".

We stop and look at him. I thought maybe he was being nice and wanted to help.

"Do you guys want some pills?", he says.

"??????", we think.

Before we could respond, the guy did some kind of pirouette into his car and drives off.

"Did he just say what I think he said?", I ask Andy.

"Yeah. He was offering us pills.", Andy confirmed.

"Did you know you have a drug dealer in the neighbourhood?", asks Andy's friend.

"Well, I didn't. But I do now.", I said. "Though I wouldn't do business with someone who dresses like that anyway. Still, he must be doing well for himself. He's got a Beemer."

You get all kinds in this filthy rich neighbourhood.

After shifting in the mattress and other items, I was introduced to the rabbit. Fat little bugger, with mildly droopy ears. Black and white. Sadly, I've forgotten his name.

The rabbit will live in a cage in the backyard. Now, not to be left out of the time-honoured Australian tradition of the barbeque, one of my housemates invested in a tiny little barbeque. It's really really tiny. You'd be lucky to fit more than 7 sausages in it. She's vegetarian. I think she used it once, or maybe twice, to grill some tomatoes and eggplants.

In a cruel twist of irony, the rabbit-cage is next to this barbeque in the backyard.

The backyard is also where I smoke my weed. For the longest time, I haven't had any. But last week, I managed to get shitloads of the stuff. And I didn't have to get it from the '80s popstar either.

I can just picture myself, sitting in the backyard, on any given Sunday afternoon, in a THC-induced state of bliss, munchies slowly developing, and staring at the rabbit. Then at the barbeque.

Then at the rabbit again...

...and at the barbeque...

...back to the rabbit...

...thinking, "I wonder what grilled rabbit tastes like?"...

Hmmmm...

Of Da Vinci, Salman Khan and Dung Beetles

2006-05-18T17:24:00.000+10:00

So I hear that the Indian Government has put a hold on the release of the ‘Da Vinci Code’ movie. This is because the Information and Broadcasting Minister received a large number of complaints (around 200) from Catholic groups.

200!

Yeah, 200!

As someone once said “The response is tremendous!”

This means that they’re roughly more than a billion people in India who aren’t complaining, and are probably itching to see the movie (scratch scratch)! Hah! Bet the minister didn’t think of that.

And I bet that 185 of these complaints were sent by the same chap in this Catholic Group, but he slyly changed his name every time. And I bet the other 15 complaints were sent by Salman Khan (world-famous Indian actor), complaining that the movie should be banned because he didn’t get the coveted lead role of Leonardo Da Vinci (world-famous dead artist chap).

After all this, the movie’s release is going to be delayed by a few days.

And what’s with the dudes from the Catholic Secular Forum going on a hunger strike? This begs the question - were they compelled to go pig out at an ‘All-U-Can-Eat Buffet’ after watching “The Passion of the Christ”?

(Burp!)

I mean, it’s just a movie. Based on a book. It’s fiction. Well, depends on your point of view, I suppose. The censor board cleared the film on the condition that the film’s disclaimer - stating that the movie is fictional - is moved from the end credits to the beginning of the film, because most people in India won’t hang around to see the end credits.

And they make a valid point. Ever notice how only in India, people randomly get up and leave two minutes before the movie’s over? Wonder why? Probably to avoid the mad rush in the parking lot? Get home in time for chai and masala bondas? I still don’t know. And I don’t know how they manage to time it exactly two minutes before the movie ends.

Anyhoo, back to the main point, if you’re going to question your faith based on a book, or a movie, then you probably don’t have that much faith to begin with. If you’re going to starve because a movie depicts ideas that aren’t exactly in line with your faith, then you don’t have an open mind. You’re probably a bit of an idiot as well.

But on the flip side, I see where these hunger-striking dudes are coming from, because the world is full of idiots who believe everything they see in the movies. And purely by virtue of its population, India is home to a large number of these idiots. You never know what people will think after watching the movie.

You know what the really weird thing is? I read this in the paper, but I don’t know how true it is. Apparently, the Catholic groups that are protesting against the movie are being supported by some Islamic Group leaders! So there’s some sudden bonding among the minority religions now, because of this movie. Who’d have thought? Wonder what the Shiv Sena has to say?

Hang on. What does Islam have to say about Christ? Or am I missing something?

I read the book. I read it way after it was considered cool. It got to the point where every idiot and his brother had read the book, and I didn’t want to be left out. It was entertaining, for sure. But the whole concept was not new to me. I came across the exact same concept in 2001, in the PC game ‘Gabriel Knight 3 – Blood of the Sacred, Blood of the Damned’, which proves that books are over-rated and computer games are the way to go.

I’m going to burn in Hell for this. Luckily for me, I don’t believe in Hell, not according to my religion. But my religion is all for reincarnation and bad Karma. This probably means that I’m going to be born a dung beetle in my next life. All because of this blasphemous post.

Sigh….

Son of Cheap Thrills

2006-05-04T17:11:00.000+10:00

I've decided to write a couple of posts about aspects in my life other than music. Well, the last post was one such. I figure this will increase my chances of winning the lottery next Thursday. (My chances would also increase slightly if I actually bought a lottery ticket).

Yeah well, maybe it'll attract more readers to the blog. People who don't particularly fancy music, and want to know just what I do with my life the rest of the fucking time. Do such people exist? If so, why?

Excuse the sudden spate of insanity. (What am I saying? You love it. You wouldn't want me any other way). I think it has something to do with the prawn risotto I had for lunch, with colleagues from work. Not to mention the two cups of coffee. You see, I'm allergic to seafood, and hence don't normally indulge in prawn risottos. But this high-class Italian restaurant had the daily specials in Italian (go figure), and I just went with everyone else and ordered the special risotto. Found out the hard way that 'Scampi' or whatever is Italian for Prawn. And I quietly ate it. (Man, after reading Waiter Rant, I ain't gonna mess with no waiters! Besides, it was my mistake anyway.)

Excuse me while I vomit.

Actually, it's not that bad. An irritating feeling in my throat and stomach for a few hours and all is good. And I have 2 blog posts to show for it. Maybe I should eat prawn risottos more often... NOT!

PS - Son of Bosey is back!! Whatte louly! Check it out...

Cheap Thrills

2006-05-04T16:38:00.000+10:00

So here I am sitting in a client's office, logged on to the internet and sneaking in a quick blog post. Been very busy at work of late, and at the client's den, I don't normally have internet access. This sucks Donkey's Balls...because it means I actually have to work. Gaaaahhh!!

But today is different. Today all the work is done, and the aforementioned donkey and its testicles have taken the day off. Today I'm all alone, in a meeting room somewhere, where I can dial in, and connect to the glorious www. YES! Today is the day of cheap thrills!

Now there's a certain cheap thrill of sitting in the office and doing stuff not related to work, knowing all the while that I'm getting paid for it. In my case, these activities range from listening to music (I usually do some work-related stuff simultaneously...multi-tasking, I think, is the scientific term), personal emails, blogging and blog reading, and surfing the net. Though I know people who do much worse (or better, depending on your point of view).

Anyhoo, this certain cheap thrill is only intensified when I conduct one or many of the aforementioned activities at the client's office. Because not only am I getting paid to do something totally unrelated to work, but I'm doing it at the client's office, and the client pays my company for it. Since my company can't feel anything...ohnevermind. Right now, I'm all warm inside with this thrilling feeling, in all its glorious cheapness.

I don't do this very often, just in case you're wondering. Which explains the long breaks in between posts. But once in a while, I let go. And I wallow in these cheap thrills.

I'm wallowing now. If you put your ear to the screen, you might be able to hear me wallowing.

(Wallow)

(Wallow)

Can you hear it?? Huh, huh, can you? Huh?

(Wallow)

PS - On a totally unrelated note, I still have no clue how to put up pictures on my blog. This post would have been so much better with a picture of the donkey...

Zen and the Art of Musical Masturbation

2006-04-20T12:39:00.000+10:00

I’ve been reading this book called ‘Zen Guitar’. I thought it might give my practicing a much-needed kick, and help me get more disciplined and all that. So far, it hasn’t done shit. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s not a good book. It only means that I suffer from a serious lack of self-discipline and motivation. Someday I will get around to fixing this problem.

But that’s not the point. My point is…actually, I just realised I don’t have a point. But these trivialities will not deter me. What I wanted to say was, I came across a term in this book that uh…caught my fancy. Its called 'musical masturbation'. (I’m guessing it probably caught your fancy too, eh??)

I know what you’re thinking. Now would be a good time to stop thinking it.

It’s not some mellifluous (I always wanted to use that word) method to get your rocks off. The author used the term to describe a long-winded pointless solo by some musician showing off his technical prowess just to feel good. Essentially, in the Zen context, such showing off of technical prowess is without spirit and is just a form of musical masturbation.

It sounds quite sensible, but here’s the thing. I can feel the slow, hazy formation of a point. It’s still nebulous at this stage, but it’s better than not having one at all, I suppose. I listen to a lot of music where there are bucket-loads of technical prowess flying at me at 300 notes per minute. What’s more, I even enjoy some of this music. And I’m pretty sure the guy who’s showing off his technical prowess is enjoying himself too. So if he’s enjoying himself and I’m enjoying myself, does that mean we’re engaging in some kind of telepathic form of group musical masturbation? (Ecchhh!! I think I need a shower.)

It’s a scary thought. If it’s true, I’m probably doomed to listening to the Backstreet Boys or other such bands that have the technical prowess of a sedated walrus.

What do you think?

On the other hand, maybe I should just shut up and listen to whatever makes me happy. Speaking of other hands, maybe I should just stick to using those, in the good old-fashioned masturbatory method. Better yet, maybe I should stop reading this book, get out more often, and get laid...

Aftermath

2006-04-15T18:26:00.000+10:00

The Rolling Stones rocked! There's a reason why so many people insist they're the greatest rock band ever, and two nights ago, I saw that reason...LIVE! It's the best concert I've been to yet. For a bunch of old rockers, they sure know how to put on a show.

The irony did not escape me when Mick Jagger donned a black knee-length jacket and pranced about on stage singing 'Sympathy for the Devil', two hours before Good Friday. No, it didn't escape me, but I smiled and sang along too.

"Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man’s soul and faith
I was around when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate"

And just to make sure I'm going straight to hell, I watched 'Stigmata' on Friday. I also tagged along uninvited to some dinner and polished off copious quantities of scotch, not to mention most of the food.

It all seems so wrong, but it just feels so right...

P.S. I'm now the owner of a Tongue'n'Lip T-shirt. Just so I can tell people I've seen the Rolling Stones live in concert. Cheap Thrills. That's me.

Breaking The Silence

2006-04-13T11:10:00.000+10:00

Must….move…fin…G…E…R…S!!

There, I did it!

Putting up a post after a long blogging break is harder than I thought. It’s been over a month since my last post. I blame it on a combination of work commitments, illnesses, and my inherent laziness. The work commitments have been dealt with, and I’ve managed to recover from the illness. Essentially, I’m quite jobless and in the pink of health once again, and what am I left with? Laziness! I can stare at the computer screen for hours, occasionally glancing down at the keyboard, almost willing it to type something on its own, but for the longest time, I couldn't get around to typing anything. Mind you, its not like my life has been extremely boring or anything. It’s been quite good, in fact. But before April gives way to May, I’d better publish this post.

It’s Thursday, the 13th of April. Someone just wished me a Happy New Year. Apparently it’s Tamil New Year tomorrow. Iniya Putthandhu Vazhthukal and all that! But over here in Melbourne, everybody’s busy getting into the Easter spirit. Speaking of which, I just had some Hot Cross Buns. But all I can think of today is the Stones concert. Tonight’s the night. I spent heaps of money on the ticket, and it had better be worth it, otherwise old Mick is going to lose a fan.

I’ve realised that most of the posts I write about revolve around music. I’m trying to come up with the underlying theme for this blog. Essentially, it’s about my life, and while music is a big part of my life, I find it rather disturbing that I don’t have much else to write about. I’m hoping to change that with the next few posts. But you never know, I’ll probably just be writing about the concert.

I actually did start writing a post when I was sick. It’s lying somewhere in my Drafts folder, yet unfinished. So that’s going to be put up next, I suppose. The long weekend will come in handy. Who knows, I might even come into the office for a bit, and blog away with reckless abandon! (Yeah, right!)

But until then, I’ve taken the first step. I’ve broken the silence. And for now, have a good Easter, a Happy New Year, and if you’re neither Christian nor Tamil, just shut up and enjoy the long weekend.

Coming Soon to a Concert Near Me...

2006-03-06T17:55:00.000+11:00

Concert-wise, things are looking good this March and April. Here (in no particular order) is a list of some of the concerts happening soon...

U2 - March 24th. Much anticipated. I'd bought tickets for this way back in December. I know they're pop royalty and all that, but I have mixed feelings about the band. I still get goosebumps when I listen to 'War' or 'The Joshua Tree', but I simply can't get into their new stuff. I also get rather annoyed that everybody just loves Bono (and his sunglasses)and seems to forget that there are other people in the band. What about The Edge, I ask? I mean, he's probably one of the most under-rated guitarists ever. Well, that's not the band's fault. Anyhoo, it'll be a fun concert simply because this is one where I get to stand in front of the stage with a whole bunch (about 10 or 12) of friends. It's way better than the usual concert experience. Previously, I've either gone alone or with one other person, and I have to actually have to sit down, and sit way back. (Hmmm...Is that speck over there Dave Matthews?). I just heard that the gates open at 4 o'clock for a 7.30 show, so it's a good reason to take half the day off. Promises to be a rockin' concert. Hope they play 'Sunday Bloody Sunday'.
Coheed & Cambria - March 23rd. One day before the U2 concert. I just got into this band. I've only heard one album, and its growing on me. I read a few write-ups about the band, and was initially drawn into it because someone said it was prog-rock. Well, I wouldn't know about that. Maybe it is, maybe its not. But it certainly has some elements of eccentricity. They sound like a mix of Green Day (only because the singer sounds like he recently got kicked out a punk band) and Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. They definitely reference Zep and Floyd and Rush and the Police in their album, which has a ripper of a title - Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV, Volume 1: From Fear Through The Eyes Of Madness. Critics claim that 'Coheed and Cambria is to music what Dungeons & Dragons is to board games. Baffling to outsiders, compulsively addictive to fans'. Right now, I'm baffled but interested-bordering-on-addicted. I have a feeling that the concert will be good, and, at $50 a ticket, it's cheap entertainment.
The Rolling Stones - April 13th. What can I say? Probably the greatest rock & roll band ever! I still remember when I first heard 'Paint It, Black', way back in 7th grade. (It was the theme song for the TV serial 'Tour Of Duty'.) It remains my favourite Stones song. I grew up with this band. Hell, my dad grew up with this band! They started off with the Beatles, and 40 odd years later, they're still playing. They've come up with their share of absolute drivel, but they've had more than their share of all-time classic hits, and they've earned their title of one of the best live acts ever! My brother asked me the other day, "Will these guys ever retire?". Well, I don't know. But at least I get to see them play live before they do. Which reminds me, I'd better go buy myself a ticket...and fast!
Opeth - April 23rd. I'm really not a big fan of Death Metal, but progressive death metal (If there ever is such a term, these guys would be it), now thats another story. I first heard Opeth last year. A friend played me their album called 'Damnation'. It was one of the most beautiful and proggy albums I've ever heard. Haunting melodies, dark lyrics, astounding guitar work, and vocal harmonies that would give Art Garfunkel a run for his money. But here's the thing. 'Damnation' was one of its kind. I heard another album of theirs - 'Ghost Reveries'. Again, musically, its brilliant. However, the vocalist, this self-same chap responsible for the aforementioned Art Garfunkel-type vocal harmonies, growls. He growwwwwwls! (Apparently, that's the sound of Death's voice or some such thing). I'd have given up if not for the fact that the music is simply too progressive to ignore. And after many listens, I'm getting used to the growling. I'm also getting used to the cheery lyrics about Death's lullaby and the baying of the Hounds of Hell and all that. I just hope it does not make me evil! (For the record, I'm already mildly evil. My friends can vouch for this. But its a harmless sort of evil, that most people would find,... ahem..., cute. I'm worried about turning really EVIL. I mean Pol Pot-meets-Bride of Chucky-type evil. If you find me sporting black lipstick and spiked dog collars, it's probably happening. If it does get to that, feel free to whack my bald head with a spatula. Just do it gently so as not to leave a mark.) In the meantime, when the lads from Sweden cast their signature dark sounds over Melbourne, in a night of interwoven beauty, melody, aggression and lots of growling, I'll be there. Looking forward to it.
Deep Purple & Status Quo - April 14th. I last saw Deep Purple 5 years ago in Bangalore. It was the worst concert experience I've ever had. (The worst concert was Michael Learns To Rock, but lets not go there. No. Pleeeese! Let's not!) While the band was cranking up 'Highway Star', I was stuck between two tall, huge, Sardarjis (I didn't get their names, in case you're wondering) who were jumping around and sweating bullets. No prizes for guessing where all this sweat fell. It left me scarred for life! Now everytime someone mentions Deep Purple, I cringe in fear and reach for the nearest umbrella and a can of anti-perspirant spray. I'm sure I won't encounter any sweatstorms this time around, but what is this cheap stunt of forming an alliance with Status Quo?? Have only heard one song of theirs - 'You're in the Army Now'. Anyhoo, because of this alliance, tickets are $125! They can go shag! I ain't paying that much.

Well, that's it. Funny thing I noticed about these concerts though, they all come in clusters. There are 52 weeks in a year, but it seems like every band touring Australia wants to do so in the same 4 weeks! I've already got 2 concerts in 2 consecutive days. It's a good thing I've decided not to see Purple. Otherwise, that'd be another 2 concerts in a row. What's up with that?

Notes to Myself

2006-03-03T13:42:00.000+11:00

Remove Aladdin soundtrack from iPod. Also remove other CRAP!
Leave comments in other blogs, in the fond hope that people will reciprocate.
Shut up and play the guitar!
Go to the gym more often.
Get to work on time.
Brush teeth at night.
Eat more vegetables.
Wash behind ears.
Buy tickets to the Stones concert!
Get wasted on Friday night.
Get wasted on Saturday night.
Write another post.

For The Sake Of Completeness

2006-03-02T10:44:00.000+11:00

A friend of mine was going through the music in my iPod yesterday, and asked me this question "Why, among all the Rush and Pink Floyd and Dream Theater albums, do you have the Aladdin soundtrack?"

Good question. Here's my answer. For the sake of completeness. That, by itself, is not good enough. I suppose a bit of background would make things clear as mud.

I got the majority of my music from one source, a good friend of mine, whom we shall call Gorf.(Notice that this is frog spelled in reverse. This is of no use to you, but its too late now. You noticed it already.) Gorf had about 120 albums of various artists when I first latched onto him. I had a little more than 60. Through some remarkably astute networking, we managed to bring that up to a cumulative total of about 350 odd albums. Gorf also had 3 computers with CD burners. Yes, 3! And they were all mean machines. So before I left Chennai for Melbourne, I spent several days at his residence, burning music with reckless abandon.

Which brings me to my point. Gorf had a pretty diverse collection of albums. He said his collection was put together to include music from all genres. For the sake of completeness, he had albums from MC Hammer, Michael Jackson, Megadeth, Trilok Gurtu (to name a few) and several soundtracks (including Aladdin, a Cirque du Soleil soundtrack and a Tamil Movie soundtrack. From memory, I think it was Kaadhalan.) I took everything, for the sake of completeness, and also because I couldn't be stuffed weeding out unnecessary albums. That's just me being lazy and greedy at the same time. Welcome to my world.

So, somewhere in the dark recesses of my vast CD collection, I have these albums - 'Please Hammer, Don't Hurt 'Em' - MC Hammer, 'Dangerous' and 'Thriller' - Michael Jackson, and a tamil movie soundtrack (blechh!). They have never seen the light of day.

All these albums are in MP3 Cds, in alphabetical order. When I first got my iPod, I was intoxicated with delight. 60 gigs, man! I wanted all my albums in that little black box. For the sake of completeness. So I started off with the A's and put in everything I had. Including Aladdin. By the time I got to E, I realised it was pointless. I would never listen to those albums. More importantly, my thirst for new music is near unquenchable. I was getting new music at a rapid pace. At this rate, the iPod will be overflowing and I'll still have a few CDs left over. So, to save iPod space and my time, I started putting in only the music that I thought I would probably listen to. I happen to have every album of Def Leppard and Mr. Big, but I didnt put it all in, because I knew I was never going to listen to it. Which is why, if you ever were to look at the music in my iPod, you will not find Michael Jackson or MC Hammer, because thankfully, E comes before M. Even more thankfully, Gorf did not have any albums of Britney Spears or Celine Dion. You must understand - this 'completeness' is completely a relative thing.

The iPod is now half-full. At 30 gigs, or around 7000 songs. I still have heaps of albums left to put in. Unfortunately for me, my thirst for music and this quest for the relative completeness will be the death of me. For bands that I like, I want every album they ever made, neatly indexed, including live albums if possible. I'm already there with a lot of bands. With others, I'm not too far off. Someday, that level of completion and perfection shall be reached.

While we're on the subject, I find that having so much of music in one place is good, in the sense that I have so much to choose from. But whats not good is that I almost always listen to the same old favourite albums, which amount to about 25 or 30. That's about the same 300 songs among 7000 (...and counting). Which is why there will always be a few albums that I have never listened to, and never will. Here's an excerpt of the conversation on this subject between the voices in my head.

"So, what shall we listen to today?"

"How about Steely Dan? They're cool!"

"Mmm! Steely Dan! We listened to Steely Dan yesterday. We have so much music we've not listened to!"

"But we likes Steely Dan, my precious. We likes it. And they're funny too. They named themselves after a giant, steam-powered dildo!"

"Mmmm! Dildo! Sex! Sex!"

Several minutes later, after a heated discussion on the topic of sex...

"So, what we listen to today?"

"S-T-E-E-L-Y D-A-N!!"

"What about the Kingston Trio? Or the Byrds? Or Incroyable Jungle Beat?"

"The Kingston Trio can go shag the Byrds to the beat of the Incroyable Jungle. We wants Steely Dan!"

"Ok, since we've made our minds up.."

'While the music played you worked by candlelight
Those San Fransisco nights
You were the best in town'

"Mmmm! Shag.."

"Shut the %#$* up and listen to the song!"

'Just by chance you crossed the diamond with the pearl
And you turned it on the world
Thats when you turned the world around'

Well, there you have it. For the record, and for the sake of completeness, let me state that I have never listened to the Aladdin soundtrack.

N.B. - The voices in my head are more or less fictional, and are a not-so-entirely accurate representation of how my mind works.
Steely Dan is really named after a steam-powered dildo. For more info, see Steely Dan Trivia

A Day In The Life?

2006-02-15T11:32:00.000+11:00

Sunday morning came without a warning feeling fat lazy hazy horny I woke up thinking you could have at least knocked its time to get up now rub the eyes watch the skies brush the teeth stretch the feet clean the room its almost noon now I’ve got a hunch its time for lunch so I head down to eat need to get some meat into the digestive systeth veggies and sausages flipping the pages of the TV guide with the remote by my side lying here with a beer and watching crap TV life was good until I remembered the chores wash the clothes you’ll have to pay a fine if you don’t clean the shrine Jules and her rules man Fred said shaking his head but John was already gone and I was left standing mop in hand and tears in my eyes with cleaning supplies shower power disinfectant bleach blechh blechhh blechhhh time for tea but look here maybe I’ll just have another beer then a nap there’s a gap that I still cant fill yettu mani woke up feeling funny went down to the store to get some more stuff home again all alone again watch TV law and order maybe order a pizza but I’ve still got sausages it’ll take ages anyway what a lazy day its been apart from the chores in between its nearly twelve I’m on a mission watching television but I’ve got to go now and iron my shirt oh no back to work again Sunday’s gone I scratch my head lie in bed stare at the ceiling waiting for that sleepy feeling good night good night sleep tight this rhymes sometimes nursery crimes what’s worse it could have been verse but maybe its prose I suppose for the most its just another post.

Home Again

2006-02-13T15:06:00.000+11:00

"You move me you move me
With your buildings and your eyes
Autumn woods and winter skies

You move me you move me
Open sea and city lights
Busy streets and dizzy heights

You call me you call me"

I've been back in Melbourne for 2 weeks now. The first few days were mildly depressing, brought about by a mixture of jetlag, homesickness and analysis and introspection that seemed quite pointless later. But soon enough, I felt like I was back home. Yes, HOME! After having just returned from Chennai, which, incidentally, is where my home is. I have this habit of using the term loosely, so loosely that home usually refers to wherever I'm going to spend that night. I'll leave you imagine the implications.

But Melbourne's different. Just being in the city gives me that strange comfortable feeling. I can't explain it. I can just walk around in the city streets and look at the tall buildings, and the funky little sculptures and statues that are seemingly everywhere, walk in the little side streets and the alleyways, with their almost-hidden cafes and bars, when i'm jogging along the riverbank and can see the vaguely familiar buildings in the distance, or even when I'm on the tram or the train, just listening to music and watching the people, I get that feeling that of comfort. It's not really a feeling of belonging, because this is obviously much stronger in Chennai than it is here. It's more a feeling of, for want of a better description, being free.

I don't know why I felt this sudden exhilirating feeling of freedom when I came back from India. I guess it was mainly due to the fact that it was a hectic trip. So much to do and so many people to see and so many parties to attend and so many drinks to be drunk. I hardly had any time to just chill. Well, it feels that way anyway.

Anyhoo, it feels good to be back in Melbourne, and I've slowly settled into the old routine. Chennai will always be home, but this city comes a close second. It's got enough memories, good and bad, enough opportunities, enough friends (if you can ever have enough), and well, like i just said, it makes me feel, uh, free...

Indian Sunrise

2006-01-24T12:30:00.000+11:00

It's 6.30 AM on a Tuesday. As I type this, I can see from the corner of my eye, through the window, the first rays of the sun coming up from behind the buildings. My first Indian sunrise in a long time.

I don't really know why I got up so early. It's not normal for me, especially given I'm on holiday. Have been restless of late, because the holiday's drawing to a close. 3 more days left before I fly back to Melbourne. I've got this sinking feeling that I've got so much left to do, and I won't have have time to do it. Am mildly stressed. I'm just being paranoid. Always get this way when it's time to leave.

It's been a great holiday. It's been a little more than a month. A good, long holiday. Was telling Rat yesterday (oh, well, actually, she was telling me) that it feels like ages since it started, and at the same time, it feels so short. One big huge blur that just whizzed by. It feels like I've barely recovered from my jetlag and now here I am blabbering about an Indian sunrise.

Hopefully, I'll make the time and effort to write about the holiday at some point. That depends largely on how much work I'll have when I get back to Melbourne. After all this incessant partying, I wonder if I'll actually be able to put in a full day's work ever again.

Have piled on the kilos as well. Wonder if I'll fit into my suit? Hmmm.....

Oh well, I'll have to wait and see. Still have these 3 days to get through. Right now, I think I'll go bond with my grandmother and see if I can get her to make me some coffee. Shortly after that, will consider seizing the day and all that jazz.

Happy Birthday To Me!!

2006-01-16T19:14:00.000+11:00

Alright, alright, so it's been 10 days since my birthday. Better late than never, I always say.

I've been busy. This partying and holidaying is hard work, I tell you. 16 days into the new year, and 10 days left of the holidays. I had major plans of sending off long detailed posts about the holiday in Chennai, and the trips to Cochin and Bangalore. But then I changed my mind. I can't waste any time blogging. There's too much eating, drinking and partying to be done!

But now, having just consumed some Pongal and various other culinary delights whipped up by my dear ol' grandmother, I've changed my mind yet again. It's my blog and I must put up one post for my birthday, even though it's been a blur.

January 6th. I turned 27. Don't feel any older, or any wiser. Didn't even feel like I had a birthday, because all the parties just seem to have merged into one big drunken ride. But anyway, from the hazy recesses of my memory, here is what happened.

A few friends came over on the night of the 5th. Along with my dad and brother, we all drank the night away. At the stroke of midnight, many wishes and hugs and kisses were received. It was good. Shortly thereafter, I passed out.

Woke up on my birthday to find out that my grandmother's been hospitalised, suffering severe food poisoning. So I spent the better part of the day in hospital by her side. Went home briefly to receive an old friend of mine who landed up fom Bangalore. Received many phone calls from many people. I also spent a lot of time calling people trying to arrange a beach house, for a birthday party, which was to happen on the 7th, being a Saturday. Finally, by about 7 in the evening, A beach house was organised. My grandmother was also speedily recovering, and she was back home by 9. It was time to go party. So I went out with a bunch of guys to Zara's (worldfamous Tapas Bar in Chennai). Much fun was had. Was supposed to meet some people later on at Pasha, but that didn't happen due to some error in communication, so we all went home and slept.

The next day was the actual celebration. A huge gathering was expected. It was a combined birthday celebration with two other people. After stressing over the administrative and logistic tasks of it all, I gave up, sat back, and let the whole thing fall into place. The beach house was awesome. It was huge, and had a swimming pool. Lots of people came. Some didn't. All I remember is that is was a fun party. And I suppose thats really what matters in the end.

Had fun with a lot of friends, some very close ones, some not so close, some old, some new, some just acquaintances, some total strangers. Got drunk, got stoned, got wasted. Woke up the next morning with a smile on my face and a mild buzz in my head, thinking "It really has been a Happy Birthday!".

iPod, therefore iAm

2005-12-16T11:18:00.000+11:00

It's been the highlight of my existence for the last few weeks. The sleek black 60 GB iPod. Ooooohh joy joy JOY!!!

Thankfully, not much has been happening at work, so all I've been doing is putting my music in it, with reckless abandon. So far, there's about 15 GB, and there are so many CDs still left. It's a race against time now, with only 5 more days left before I leave for India. Will I be able to get all my music in it on time??????

There's a strange thrill of having all my music on this little thing. I've been listening to songs I haven't heard in ages. I've been listening to songs that I didn't know I had. I've been listening to songs I've never heard before. I've been doing a lot of listening.

It's become an integral part of me now. The ol' Discman is feeling a bit neglected.

Now all I need are some speakers and I can cheerfully inflict this music upon the unsuspecting public. (In a few more days, it'll be the unsuspecting Chennai public). It's a thought that warms the heart...

The Raelians and the Aliens

2005-12-07T14:18:00.000+11:00

I haven't touched this blog for ages. With the project at work all done and dusted, I've run out of excuses. It's high time for a new post. So let me tell you about the Raelians.

I only found out about them a few days ago, watching one of those TV programs that actually teach you something new (just in case you were wondering, it wasn't Desperate Housewives.)Apparently there is this religious movement called the International Raelian Movement, founded in 1973 by French journalist Claude Vorilhon, now known as Rael. Rael claims that on 13th December 1973, he was contacted by a human-like extra-terrestrial being over 4 feet tall with olive skin, almond-shaped eyes, long dark hair, and exuding humour and harmony. This alien told him that all life on Earth is not a result of evolution, nor the work of God, but rather a deliberate creation by the extra-terrestrials, using DNA cloning. In short, we were created by them, in their own image. The being then asked Rael to establish an embassy to welcome these beings, our 'Fathers from Outer Space', back to Earth. And that's what led to the Raelian religion or movement.

Since 1973, the religion has apparently grown to include around 40,000 people worldwide, and is strongest in France, Canada and also Japan (possibly due the large number of short humans in the local population with almond-shaped eyes, exuding harmony and humour. But thats just my opinion.) More recently, it is spreading in the USA, Australia, Britain, South-East Asia and Latin America.

I find it all very fascinating, not least because of the coincidence in the name. (If you want to know the origin of the name of the blog, see 'What's with the name?'. It has nothing to do with this religion.)

The Raelian movement has an official website, if you're interested in more information. As with most other things in life, I view it with a healthy dose of skepticism. But some of the more interesting facets about the religion (apart from the obvious one, that we were created by aliens from outer space) are -

Its scientific translations of the Bible (for example, according to the Raelians, the word 'Elohim' used in the Book of Genesis has been wrongly translated into the word 'God'. Instead, it translates into 'those who came from the sky' and represents our extra-terrestrial creators.)
The advocation of a political system called geniocracy, that only allows the most intelligent people (geniuses) to govern (I really dig this concept. You have to pass an IQ test and everything. Wonder what Bush will think of this?)
The unification of all nations in the world to form a single government, run by these self same geniuses, who impose a system of government called humanitarianism.
The religion's belief in infinite levels of life - The belief is that the Earth is but a miniscule atom existing in the body of a gigantic person, who in turn is living in another planet, which is in turn another atom in an even bigger person, and so on. And conversely, we all have really small planets in our bodies which harbour life. ( I just hope there are no planets in my liver. If so, they had better move quickly. Rough times lie ahead.)
The original symbol of the Raelian religion was the Star of David with a Swastika inserted in its centre. The Star of David represents infinite space, and the Swastika represents infinite time. The Swastika traces its origins to the Sanskrit symbol, and also to the Chinese character for temple. But it left the Jews less than amused, and so the symbol was changed in 1991 to a swirling galaxy surrounded by the Star of David.
The advocation of Sensual Meditation (I'm not very clear what this is, but hey, it sure sounds like fun.)
The Raelians believe Eternal Life is possible only through the recreation of the individual through DNA, i.e, cloning. Their support of human cloning has caused a lot of controversy because many people believe cloning is unethical. In 1997, The religion formed a company called Valiant Venture Ltd. to promote research on human cloning. This company also offers a service called Clonaid to help homosexual or infertile couples the opportunity to clone a child from one partner's DNA.

All this certainly makes you wonder just what the truth really is. Where do we come from? Why are we here? What happens when we die? Maybe these guys have found the answer. Or maybe you think they've been smoking too much and want to know where you can get your hands on some of this stuff. Either way, it's quite interesting.

And that, as they say, is that.

The Weekend That (Almost) Wasn't

2005-11-21T13:44:00.000+11:00

Guess what I was upto this weekend? Go on, guess. Up to my ears in work, is what! I tell you, there should be a law against working weekends. I worked 16 hours out of the 48, and that's just not fair.

Ok, enough whining. I'd have written the weekend off entirely, but as you can guess from the title, it had its moments.

For one thing, the party animal in me had its share of partying on Friday night. Went over to a friend's new house for dinner. Consumed quite a bit of vodka and whisky and some yummy chicken curry. Bonded with friends. Good times!

Woke up on Saturday with a mild headache. Dragged my sorry ass to the office. Was there from 11 to 7. Headache became progressively less milder. But the geek in me got severe kicks out of the work I was doing, i.e, valuing financial instruments. Plus, there was Pandora. It's a lifesaver. (Rat, thank you!) When the whole world started looking like an Excel spreadsheet, I dragged my sorry ass home. 'The Untouchables' was showing on TV. Ordered some pizza and saw the entire movie. Some much-needed chilling. (The railway-station-steps-shootout-scene is one of the best in movie history, in my opinion.)

My uncle arrived on Saturday night at about 11, to stay with me for a few days. I had to do a bit of cleaning to make the house look respectable (get rid of illegal mind-altering substances, hide the porn, clean the grime-ridden kitchen, fumigate the loo, etc.). I did all this during the commercial breaks, with mouthfuls of pizza. I was quite impressed with the end-result, and so was Uncle. He was also hungry, so I fed him the leftover pizza. Some good ol' family bonding happened, over a couple of whiskys. A couple of hours later, sleep beckoned.

Worked from home on Sunday. I did quite a bit, but managed to squeeze in a couple of hours at the gym, and also do my laundry (I have clean underwear. Yesssss!!!). Worked right through the day and then decided to stop just before I went mental. My uncle, being a lover of good food and wine, insisted we go out for dinner. So we had a magnificent steak dinner (scotch fillet, medium rare, with a massive baked potato), and a couple of bottles of red. I felt human again.

It was nearly 11 by the time got back, and I still had work to finish. So with the clock ticking away, and the wine swishing around in my brain, I churned out a few more calculations and was done just after midnight. Heaving a sigh of relief, I plonked on the bed and drifted off into a much-needed and well-deserved sleep .

One week ends. Another begins...

Tag - Seven Things

2005-11-21T13:21:00.000+11:00

I've finally got round to responding to Rat's tag. It's been a rather non-existent weekend (more on this later), but I managed to set aside a few minutes to make this list up. So here we go..

7 things I plan to do

Get a tattoo
Travel around Australia (and then around the world)
Go skydiving
Buy a house
Play guitar in a rock band
Go to a Rush concert (somewhere, somehow...)
Get a promotion at work

7 things I can do

Sing
Play two musical instruments (guitar and kazoo) reasonably well (Well, I don’t get rotten vegetables chucked at me, and people usually recognise the songs I play, so…)
Consume copious quantities of alcohol and weed, and not be the worse off for it (I can still sing and play well after all this consumption. You should invite me to your parties. You really should)
Cook - and cook well
Walk long distances (The longest was climbing up a mountain in Papua New Guinea, and back down again. Walked for 12 hours straight)
Make people laugh (when I feel inclined to do so)
Excel academically

7 things I can't do

Write poetry
Resist temptation
Control my emotions
Be celibate
Go a day without music
Eat seafood (I’m allergic to everything, except fish)
Start a conversation with a total stranger

7 things I say most often

Ooh...Rough!! (usually followed by ‘Just the way your mother likes it!’)
Any need?
Wotaylouly
Anyway/Anyhoo
For fuck’s sake
Wotha
Oh my God!

7 (untagged) people I want to tag

Wotha, I don’t know any (untagged) people

Does Humour Belong in Music?

2005-11-15T14:59:00.000+11:00

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a couple of posts on music for a while now, considering I have some vague knowledge on the subject (well, on the stuff that I listen to, at any rate). At the risk of sounding pretentious and highly knowledgeable (which I’m not) and highly boring (which I can be at times), I’ve decided to go ahead. This is partly also because I have nothing else worth writing about.

I’ll focus on a particular style of music that I listen to quite often - when I’m not flying high in progressive rock heaven, that is. It’s satire, or parody or whatever else you want to call it. I’ve always loved a good laugh, and I’ve been fascinated with funny songs. I’m sure everyone’s heard a funny song or two in their lives, but I thought I’d write, rather randomly, about a few artists who have, in their own inimitable style, made an art out of these ‘funny songs’, and whose music I’m an ardent fan of.

The first and probably the most prolific of the lot is Frank Zappa.

It is not only Frank Zappa's absurd sense of humour that has made him a revered rock legend. He was also one of rock's very best guitarists and composers, drawing from a deep understanding of classical music, as well as 50's rock and 70's pop. His work covered a wide range of styles (notably the genres of avant-garde, rock, jazz fusion and contemporary classical), and was often noted for its blending of high art, rock opera, absurdity, scatological humour, and for its hilariously repellent and satirical edge.

Zappa became interested in music early in his life, joining a local band while attending college in California. In a few years, this band became the Mothers (later renamed the Mothers of Invention – out of pressure from producers or some such thing), and Zappa became its main songwriter. In 1966 the Mothers released their first album, 'Freak Out', introducing to the world Zappa's satirical wit and musical skills. After three subsequent albums, Zappa had developed his own sophisticated approach to composition, combining satirical or absurd lyrics with pop melodies, and mixing them with long jazzy improvisational segments and sound collages.

In the 60's, when Zappa owned a small studio, a customer asked him to produce a 'suggestive' recording for a stag party. Mostly as a joke, Zappa recruited some friends, and together they faked sounds of people having sex for the 'erotic' recording. The customer turned out to be an undercover Vice Squad member, and Zappa was thrown in jail for ten days for supplying pornography. Ever since, he was a constant rebel against authority and especially music censorship.

After the Mothers broke up in 1969, Zappa continued to devote his life to music, releasing a number of albums. In 1971, Zappa suffered two major setbacks. First, a fan's use of pyrotechnics at a concert burned down the venue, destroying all of the band's equipment (this incident was immortalised in Deep Purple’s ‘Smoke on the Water’). At a subsequent concert, an audience member pushed Zappa from the stage, injuring him so seriously that he was confined to a wheelchair for nearly a year. Despite his injuries, Zappa continued to record at a rapid rate, releasing two more albums. In the 80's, Zappa became somewhat involved in politics, even testifying in the US Senate against music censorship (more on this later). In the early 90's,

Zappa was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and died on December 4th, 1993.

There’s probably enough and more websites on Zappa, so I won’t go on about it. If you’re interested, check out the dedicated Wikipedia website, and the official Zappa website. This is where I got most of my info from anyway. What I will do, though, is list out a few interesting facts about the man that will hopefully exemplify his eccentricity and brilliance.

Contrary to popular belief, Zappa’s absurd humour and compositions were not a result of drug abuse. He was probably one of the few rock stars of this time that didn’t do drugs, didn’t smoke weed, and didn’t drink alcohol. The only things he was known to abuse were coffee and cigarettes. He once said “Don’t do speed, It’ll turn you into your parents”. He also said his favourite beverage was coffee and his favourite vegetable was tobacco.
His humour is distinctly absurd and quite repulsive to most. You don’t even have to listen to listen to the song to know that – just looking at the title is enough. Some of my favourites include – Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow, The Idiot Bastard Son, Broken Hearts are for Assholes, Why Does It Hurt When I Pee?, Illinois Enema Bandit, Carlos Santana’s Secret Chord Progression etc. Though the songs did have absurd titles and lyrics, the music was very complex, and his band always consisted of extremely technically accomplished musicians.
Zappa was one of the most vocal opponents of the PMRC - essentially, the bunch of women led my Tipper Gore (wife of Al Gore) responsible for bringing about the labelling of records and CDs containing ‘explicit lyrics or content’. (Other notable opponents of the PMRC included John Denver, Dee Snider (Twisted Sister), Jello Biafra (Dead Kennedys), and later Megadeth and Rage Against the Machine). In a Senate hearing on the issue, Zappa said that the PMRC’s demands to label records violated the First Amendment rights, and he likened it to treating dandruff by decapitation. He later memorialized the encounter in the album ''Frank Zappa Meets the Mothers of Prevention,'' which included the song ''Porn Wars'' using sound bites from the hearing. The album cover also featured a bitingly sarcastic parody of the warning label. Incidentally, Al Gore admitted to being a fan of Zappa’s music.
A surprising number of things have been named after Frank Zappa, including two asteroids (3834 Zappafrank, and 16745 Zappa), the ZapA gene of a microbe that causes infections of the urinary tract, a goby fish (Zappa confluentus), a jellyfish (Phialella zappa), an extinct mollusc (Amauratoma zappa), and a spider (Pachygnatha zappa) with an abdominal mark supposedly resembling Zappa's famous moustache. In 1995, a series of Intel PC motherboards were named after him.
Zappa had 4 children with his second wife, Gail. Their names demonstrate Zappa’s devotion to eccentricity. The names are - Moon Unit Zappa (there was a reference to this in one of the Austin Powers movies), Dweezil Zappa (born Ian Donald Calvin Euclid Zappa, (the names of his band members at the time) because the hospital refused to put Dweezil on the birth certificate; Dweezil later legally changed his name to Dweezil. Incidentally, Dweezil is also the name given to one of Gail’s toes), Ahmet Emuukha Rodan Zappa and Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen Zappa. During a talk show with Jay Leno, Zappa was asked why he had given his children such unusual names. Zappa answered, in a casual tone of voice, "Because I wanted to!". He once said in an interview that if their names ever gave them problems, it would be because of the last name (Zappa means ‘hoe’ in Italian).

Well, that’s all I have to say about that. Rather long post already. Obviously, you must have gathered at the start that there’ll be similar posts to follow. Hopefully, it makes for interesting reading. I’ll wind up by saying that if you haven’t heard any of Zappa’s music, remedy this situation at once. A good place to start would be with the compilations ‘Strictly Commercial’, ‘Have I Offended Someone?’ and ‘Does Humour Belong in Music’.

The Week That Was

2005-11-11T15:01:00.000+11:00

Friday afternoon. Another week has gone by, and I've realized I'm already losing interest in this fledgling blog. More out of sheer laziness than anything else, I reckon. I had heartwarming visions of posting off long-drawn diatribes against everything under the sun, throwing in a few reviews of random prog-rock albums, and flogging the blog to the unsuspecting public. In fact, I actually had some pretty neat ideas for posts earlier this week. HAH! But I'm incorrigibly LAZY!!

Still, there is hope. In a desperate attempt to hold on to the little interest I have left, I've pushed myself to write this post - all about the week that was. Frankly, its a boring post. But then, it has been a rather boring week.

Laziness was the recurring theme. And sickness. This blasted Melbourne weather has sparked off some severe asthma attacks, resulting in me getting out of bed no earlier than 10 most mornings. I went to work only at noon. But there wasnt much work to do, and I'm way too low in the corporate ladder for people to notice I wasn't actually at work. In my defense, I thought a lot about work while at home, and then actually did some work too. Very little, though. Felt like Dilbert. It was a good feeling.
The week also came with warnings of impending disaster and terrorist attacks on Melbourne, what with police raids and arrests of suspected terrorists followed by whispers of supposed bombs in the railway stations and all that. In the end, nothing happened. But my laziness and sickness resulted in my avoiding railway stations at peak hours. It was a brilliant strategy! And I'm glad to be alive. Phewww!!
Its been raining like a bastard this last week. Just when I thought summer was finally here. Well, at least its not as bad as the rains in Chennai I've been hearing about, where one friend mentioned he transformed into Darth 'Wader', while commuting in the city. A bit of sunlight would be good though. Are you listening?
The week also had the season's final episode of 24. I now have one less reason to watch TV. I think this is a good time to give it up totally.
I think I've spent a considerable part of this week in bed, and in elevators. The elevators in the office are possessed. I was stuck in those bleeding things on more than one occasion for what seemed like ages. Luckily, I had nothing better to do, so it was OK. I even attempted PC with the people I was stuck with, which is something I would normally never do. I'm not into elevator conversations. I usually just stare at my feet.
The most exciting thing I did this week - learnt to play 'Tambourine Man' and 'Lay Lady Lay' on the guitar. Woohoo! It's been a Dylan week. Two more songs added to the repertoire...
I can't wait for the weekend to arrive.
On that note, I need a drink. And then I need 5 more. Only an hour left for the weekly Friday-Night-Work-Drinks-Thingie. Happyhappyjoyjoy!

Music, Anyone??

2005-11-08T15:17:00.000+11:00

Over the years, I've amassed a huge collection of music through various means (buying, begging, borrowing, stealing, and burning with reckless abandon). Most of my friends think I've got a weird taste in music, and they'd be right.

Coz I've got nothing better to do, I've compiled a list (in no particular order) of the most weird or downright funny names of artists and/or albums I own.

Gordian Knot - Emergent
Liquid Tension Experiment - 2
Return to Forever - Light as a Feather
Ayreon - Into the Electric Castle
Happy the Man - Crafty Hands
Primus - Sailing the Seas of Cheese
Bela Fleck/Flecktones - Flight of the Cosmic Hippo
Spock's Beard - Beware of Darkness
Porcupine Tree - In Absentia
Cherry Poppin' Daddies - Ferociously Stoned
Blue Oyster Cult - Cultosaurus Erectus
King Crimson - In the Court of the Crimson King
Caravan - For Girls Who Grow Plump in the Night
Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band - A Carrot is as Close as a Rabbit Gets to a Diamond
Frank Zappa - Ship Arriving Too Late to Save a Drowning Witch
Frank Zappa - Waka Jawaka
Ozric Tentacles - Tantric Obstacles

Of all these, my favourite (purely in terms of weird names) would have to be Ozric Tentacles. They have even weirder song titles - Og-Ha-Be, Ethereal Cereal, Fetch Me the Pong-Master - to name a few. It's a classic!

So which of these do you think is the coolest-craziest-weirdest name?

Oh, if you happen to like more 4 of these albums, leave your number! Chances are we'll get along really well.

A Day at the Races

2005-11-07T14:16:00.000+11:00

Springtime in Melbourne ushers in the annual racing carnival. And I'm not kidding when I say its a carnival!

The last couple of years, I've watched with mild amusement, bordering on awe, as the men wear suits and the women dress up in the latest designer dresses and don hats and feathers and what not, and queue up at the railway station to head for the races. I'm usually on my way to university or to work, and on my way back at the end of the day, I see these same people staggering back home after having consumed copious quantities of champagne, hanging out in the sun and betting on the horses. And I remember thinking "Hey, I could get into this!".

And so this year, I finally did. There are several races that take place over the course of 50 days. I went for what is probably the 2nd or 3rd most important one - the Victoria Derby.

Saturday, October 29th. It started off as a sunny day, but the sky was overcast and it was always threatening to rain. Kicked off the day with a champagne breakfast at home with housemates and friends, and got suited up. Well, I wear a suit to work everyday, so it was nothing new to me, except for the champagne of course. Then set off about 11 towards the racecourse. I carried an umbrella with me, which I luckily never had to use.

Reached the racecourse about half past 12, after a jam-packed train journey. Found our way through the crowds to a spot near the tracks, picking up a few bottles of pink champagne along the way. One of the main attractions of the races is the betting. I didnt get into right away, but when my friends placed a few bets and won, I decided to join in the excitement. Over the course of the day, I won about 75 dollars, which was rather good going I suppose. At any rate, it paid for my ticket and the champagne.

It was a fun day overall. Had several bottles of champagne (if you look at the previous post, that's the day that recorded the copious quantities of champagne), placed a few bets, won some money, watched the horses, and also watched the women. Towards the end of the day, some of the people were pissed as parrots on champagne and beer and they provided some prime entertainment. I forgot about the horses and concentrated on these inebriated folks. Many a laugh!!

The races got over at half past 5. Rounded the day off with some more drinking and some dancing. They had a live band playing and we decided to stick around and enjoy the music. Afterwards, we headed for the city and continued drinking till midnight.

Sadly though, I dont think the horses got the attention they deserved. This year was quite an important one for the races, with the favourite horse winning the cup for a record third time in a row. Severe Seabiscuit vibes!!

Well, that's one thing that can be crossed out of the ol' To-Do-List.

Hic!

2005-11-06T22:46:00.000+11:00

Someone told me I should watch my drinking. I took their advice. In fact, I go one better. Not only do I watch my alcohol consumption, I count it!

Here are last week's stats...

Friday - 3 beers, 6 shots of sambuca, 4 cowboy shots, 2 vodkas.
Saturday - 3 bottles of champagne, 1 vodka, 8 beers.
Sunday - 2 vodkas, 1 beer
Monday - 1 beer, 12 neat vodkas, 2 rum 'n' cokes (Old Monk, no less)
Tuesday - 2 beers
Wednesday - 3 beers
Thursday - A day of rest (I even contemplated going to the gym, but that thought quickly passed)
Friday - 3/4 of a bottle of vodka.

Not to mention other choice mind-altering substances in the mix. Hmmm, its been a busy week. I needed the weekend to recover.

Wonder what next week has in store...

What's with the name?

2005-11-03T21:28:00.000+11:00

I suppose its high time I explained, to anyone who accidentally stumbled upon this blog and cared to read, the origin of the name. I stole it shamelessly from an old Genesis album called "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway". It's probably their most ambitious album ever - a concept double album that tells the story of a Puerto Rican kid called Rael. I'm listening to it as I type this.

Like I said, the concept is about this kid called Rael, who finds himself transported from the streets of NYC to a cave, whereupon he begins a journey that leads him through his subconscious to eventual self-discovery. His journey includes a confrontation with Death - the Supernatural Anaesthetist (Death likes meeting people and likes to travel), falling in love - with three 'Lamia' (female demons in classical mythology), and sensual gratification (with the Lamia). Then follows a nasty castration followed in turn by the theft of his dismembered organ by a Raven, and his final self-realization.

Hey, I never said it was autobiographical. I also never said I wasn't crazy. I have not been castrated, thankfully (though I won't be surprised if, at this point, some of you reading this are wishing I will be soon). I also have a strange aversion to ravens.

So there you have it. Hopefully that clears the fog a bit. Strangely enough, the album has very little to do with Broadway. Or with a Lamb.

If you're weird enough to want to know more, here's a link to a website that explores the concept in detail. Talk about fanaticism. Well, I'm one of them too, I suppose.

Annotated Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

In Memory Of...

2005-10-30T06:00:00.000+11:00

"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality" - Emily Dickinson

8 years ago today, my mother passed away. You could argue that its quite lame and in bad taste to put up a post in her memory, but I will cheerfully tell you where you can stick your arguments.

She was, quite simply, the bravest, strongest and most loving woman I have ever known. I only wish I could have told her this when she was alive. That remains my deepest regret yet.

So this is for you Mom. If you're watching, I hope I've made you happy. I hope I've made you proud.

Love,

First Post

2005-10-26T18:15:00.000+10:00

"Rael Imperial Aerosol Kid,
Exits into daylight, spraygun hid"

Right! After much contemplation, dilly-dallying, and procrastination, I've finally managed to set this thing up. Now I'll just sit around and wait for something interesting to happen in my life, so I can write about it.