From one end to another

That's how it feels like right now - that's where I'm going. About to set off on another journey which is a series of smaller journeys which aren't really all that small. Not short enough. And then there's the stops. The ... waits. ;D

I feel tired and ... concerned as I do before any flight. Fear of everything that could go wrong - see I'm not a good flier. Not solo, anyway. In company, I suddenly sprout balls - like some great miracle. And then it's not so bad in my head. The anxiety disappears. At least the selfish variety of it.

In India, they have their version of the Pop Idol format of shows - subtly named Indian Idol. These guys aren't "Idols" - they're going through the motions to be the stars in secret - singing for the Indian films. Not like they'll ever appear on screen or really be famous for their looks, moves or style, yet they've carried over this aspect of the Idol show over. I wonder if it's all a bit pointless for these guys. They're creating pop stars who'll at best show their stuff off in a dank studio somewhere in the recesses of filmtown-India. Bollywood. Whatever.

But it is impressive to see these people as it is in every one of these shows. One of the contestants who was ousted in an earlier vote hailed from a place that was no better than a slum. From deep down in my heart, I hoped she would win just to lift herself out of that place and the people she cared about with her. Things people just shouldn't have to live through. Poverty is ... no probably - it is the worst of the worst vices of this world.

And nothing can describe my hate for "Fear Factor" - The fucking sale of people's dignity for money. Fucking prostitutes on TV. Media-approved prostitution for prime-time viewing.

But I digress. Not that I had a point in particular anyway. Haven't been doing well, have I? With all the mindless criticism. Oh well ... notes to be considered. Need to get reading that book again. Haven't really done much. I fixed the phone - I didn't, but it was fixed at an approved service center and I'm so fucking excited that it's ... "useable" - I'll try it on the flight and see if it can meet my needs for comfort and so on.

I really should sleep. So I can fly in peace. Or so I hope.

I really had a point. I was going to send out some emails. But I've done that before. And to do so now would just be awkward in my head. Things are the way they are for a reason and sometimes I just feel like giving up. Why bother trying to take these stupid steps when it's all for fucking naught. This head just wishes it could self-destruct. Rest of the paragraph deleted for your reading pleasure. ;D

Till another day comes my way.

Calcium is born

Yesterday. Early in the morning. Well, early for me anyways - let's see ... how about 08:30hrs (+5.30GMT) - good for you? Oh a date - yeah , the 9th of March, 2006. So we can remember this day next year and the year after and perhaps even the year after that. Beyond such time, well, who knows, but Calcium would appreciate it. Perhaps more than I would. Or could. Or even should.

But birthdays are important. At least in this frame of mind that the society that I know is ... I'm lost. Start again - birthdays are important in this western capitalist culture. Sure, for the gifts, and so on - probably if for nothing else than for the gifts. But it's a chance for someone to be ... remembered. When you have a crap birthday, it's a real fucking downer, well to the enlightened amongst us, it isn't, but I'm not at that stage yet. I want a birthday to be one heck of a special fucking day where things work. Where it goes my way and a dream, it doesn't have to be the main one up at the top of my aspiration pyramid, just a single solitary dream from anywhere within the structure, comes true.

I'm asking for too much, I know. So I settle for gifts. That never really come. I can't really ask for any and I can't expect none either. It's just the world that I've walked into. You can't really ask for the gifts that you really want and the stuff that you weren't so keen on - well they don't do the best job of actually highlighting the day either. Yes, I know, I'm a greedy fucking sod - so sod off. ;D

Such positive words.

So I'm in India ... again. And it's new and old ... again. It's hard for me to find my place in this ... place, when I'm still me. I'm not someone new - the person that I aspire to be. Not that I've fairly tried to convert the self. But, it's all the same. The trappings of a familiar visit. I sit behind a computer screen hoping for some sort of escape from a world that I've come to so as to escape from the rest of the planet. Does that make any sense? If so, you must be my soul-psychiatrist. Contact me now for a save-me scheme that offers no financial reward to you whatsoever!

Calcium is hard to describe. I so want to tell everyone about him, but I can't. It's his visual nature that cannot be merely communicated in words without a pause appearing in the middle of the telling of the story of Calcium. Well not that I've figured out yet anyhow.

I'm getting my dosage of things that are good for me. It's a wonderful thing and I believe in my heart that when I return to "my world," I shall indeed follow these precepts for a simple and healthier life, but when I get to that point, it's going to come down to the penny that I'm not going to be willing to spend. As I've send plenty of times before - either they get you in the exorbitant costs of healthier food or they'll get you in the O.R. with the bill.

Till another message beeps in my left ear.

The lullabies of Syriana

Yet another one of these ... "political" films about charged subjects that I had been looking forward to. And it does a great job with strong performances. I wasn't quite up to the task of really comprehending everything that went on, though I suppose a quicker fellow would.

 

The thing that I'm left with, as after Munich, is a question of the relevancy of the film, which can be boiled down to the story of a big bully and the little people behind the scenes that don't like it. The moral of the tale seems unnecessary to me. Perhaps I'm unwilling to really understand these conflicts that I simplify to meaningless squabbles in my head. I don't see the point in any of it. The fighting. The selfishness. The cash-in hollywood productions. Too cynical? Perhaps.

 

I haven't yet seen Brokeback mountain. To be honest, a story of two gay cowboys doesn't interest me, but that's probably my homophobia talking. In recent days, from things I have gathered, I do think the predicament of the gay couple in society is an unjust one - at least from the tales of conditions that I have heard. I would stand for the justice required. Yet i still don't watch this film. Though I must and I will. Does this make me a bad person?

 

I fucking hope amazon has 2 day delivery. What a fucking idiot! Spend all fucking day and week thinking about it and ... typical, isn't it? Not the best of shows of importance. I'd say there are always other factors. I have my neuroses to blame. The voices and their thoughts.

 

Till the scent of another sweet word crosses my path.