tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-373567062024-03-23T11:28:55.617-07:00You know you want toHarryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-31403389960648339042010-01-03T07:07:00.000-08:002010-01-03T07:38:26.035-08:00New YearEllo All,<br />It's been a while since I've written here. What better time to start than a new decade?<br />Tejas asked me to make a list of things I've done last year and the years before. He's quite scared we'll end up forgetting certain things you should never forget.<br />I'll do the list at some point but the end of 09 is significant for me for a very different, far more painful reason.<br />A couple of years ago, I started to let go of certain personal dreams I had because I felt they'd hinder a far greater personal dream of mine- A perfect family.<br />Perhaps it was my unrequited desire to grow up faster, or maybe I'm just sad that way, but when I get into relationships I tend to get into them quite heavy.<br />Proma and Anish never understood it but it always made sense to me, that if you find someone compatible you hang onto them for dear life because you may not get the chance again.<br />As a result I tend to commit a bit too much and as I've experience time and time again- too soon.<br />In football, our coaches always taught us not to commit to a tackle unless you were 100% percent certain you could come out the winner. See, if you don't win the tackle, your mark's free to run into empty space and compromise your other defenders.<br />My logic was there's still a chance I WILL win the tackle so I might as well try my best to do it.<br />But the most frustrating times, were when I'd plan and do everything as well as I could, but still somehow couldn't pull the tackle off.<br />Maybe I was playing against someone out of my league, maybe it was as simple as luck, the fact of the matter, the only thing I can know for sure, is that I wasn't good enough to make the tackle.<br />As you can imagine, this is all an elaborate metaphor (And a half decent comic actually...) and I am quite out of position.<br />I'm in a flux. I have no idea what to do with anything and I have no real idea how to move forward.<br />I feel wierd.<br />Sorry this post was quite rambly in the end. I just thought maybe blogging would help. It sort of has. I don't know.<br />Fuck.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-11901375976632427592009-08-01T21:45:00.000-07:002009-08-02T02:14:54.401-07:00In Good CompanyEllo All<br />The last few days have been mad hectic for me as I travelled to Pune for the weekend and then Matheran for the remaining weekdays. Pune was awesome. Matheran not so much.<br />The most obvious reasons were that in Pune we had a warm dry home to come back to and in Matheran we had a smelly, damp and cold bunch of bed linen to sleep in. There were also bugs.<br />Thing is, I've stayed in far worse conditions with far less complaint and it is certainly not my age that made me want to leave Matheran so much.<br />I believe, very firmly, that there is a level of connection between any two people, which is so immensely impactful, all other relationships fade into non existence. I call this level, the click. It's kind of like a pen. When the cap is off, some covers just click right in and some take a bit of effort before they click. Some just don't click.<br />A few months ago, through no planned arrangement, my girlfriend, my best friend, my sister, her boyfriend and I ended up chilling together. There was singing, there was chattering and there was a lot of laughing (key ingredient for optimum clickage...).<br />Last weekend in Pune we met again and it was just as awesome. There was no will to leave, there was no false smile, there was no hidden feelings, there was nothing but the good time we were all having.<br />At the end of it all, we all hugged waved and shouted our ba-byes before heading our separate ways to do our own things and it struck me how awesome this particular click was. We meet, have a blast and then head back to the less 'clicky' worlds we normally occupy.<br />I had a ball in Matheran. It was one hell of a trip, but something in me was trying very hard for the previous click and obviously that wasn't going to happen.<br />I suppose what this is boiling down to, is wherever there is a click, whoever it may be, cling onto it and protect it like none other because clicks are a lot harder to find than we'd like to think.<br />One of my existing clicks is fading currently. (Well two, but that's a whole other blog and probably even a book) She won't say it but it's been getting pretty blatantly clear that the boredom of old click is bothering her. I'm trying to figure out how to rejuvenate this click without having to pull the cover off the pen. Even if it's momentarily. I'm sure we'll get there but like I said, one must always protect their clicks. It's the greatest thing you'll ever have to protect.<br />To the Lawbreakers.<br /><em>I've just spoken to the inappropriately mistitled 'fading click' and as always she has a far better metaphor. The metaphor itself is long and if reprinted here could result in injuries for me. Point being- the click is not fading but is in fact as awesome as always. I could extend my metaphor and say perhaps the color of the pen is not as exciting as it once was, and I feel it is my duty to brighten up and make her enjoy the clickiness of it all.</em><br /><em>Now. Figure it out yourself and get back to me because I swear to God I haven't the slightest...</em>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-53256208373071979002009-07-05T09:19:00.000-07:002009-07-05T10:33:03.904-07:00These are the daysEllo All<br />This was honestly supposed to be a spontaneous post 3 days ago, but some very stupid moves and a trip to Matheran means it's had to wait till now.<br />Well, the day I wanted to write this, I'd just had a small meal with two friends from the Journo class. Nothing significant happened, nothing that really changed anything anyway. We ate, talked about inanities, caught our trains and left.<br />For some reason though, that experience of eating and walking home and being tired and chuckling and yawning is somehow very deeply ingrained in my memory.<br />On the same day I'd just had a gruelling session which had me drained entirely.<br />When I'm 56 and I'm talking to my kid/s and they look up at me and Kyra and ask us about college, these are the experiences I'll tell them about. And no matter how many ipods and net connections you throw into the fray, they'll always seem old and outdated.<br /><br />I realise now that this post isn't going ANYWHERE and probably was never supposed to. But there's a very pleasant, almost comforting feel to this particular memory and it just strikes me how awesome it is to do something and then relive it later on and still come out with a similar if not stronger feeling.<br />Yea I'm just trying to blog more often. This is what happens.<br /><br /><em>While writing this post I started watching the Wimbledon Final, and man!</em><br /><em>Fuck me! </em>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-86424418356114053732009-06-27T09:49:00.000-07:002009-06-27T10:17:54.423-07:00AgainEllo all<br />It's that time of the year again. I'm leaving the place I'm staying in. I'm going to be staying with a friend for a bit and then, well I don't know.<br />The absurd frequency with which this happens is fairly freaking disheartening and every time it does I start to appreciate the security and sheer sanity of having one home you can sort of track back to whenever you like. Even if it's just in your head.<br />It struck me, as always, when I went to pee and realised I'll be peeing in a new bathroom all over again. And then I'll start to get used to that loo and I'll end up moving yet again. I certainly wish things would hit me in more poetic circumstances but there you go.<br />These past three days I've just had my head in such an unbelievable jumble over this and honestly, what bothers me most, is that I don't have that thing a very dear friend of mine has everytime she's moving around. She'll just up and go like it's this very ordinary step. God, I wish I fucking had that. It just always kicks in too late and I end up with these couple weeks of jumble.<br />Michael Jackson dying hasn't particularly helped. Not that I hold it against him. But shit. It's over. No phenomenal comeback. No righting what went so wrong. Just end para, 'King of Pop' is gone. It's time like these you have to thank God we have the internet. Noone will ever forget, or even let diminish the significance of his passing, and I suppose, it's the least he deserves.<br />I digress. I suppose.<br />Sorry for the ramble/whine. Just figured a post might help the jumble go. Not worked so far.<br />Ah fuck it. Let's hope the next post's a little cheerier.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-11420755364842299202009-06-18T05:33:00.000-07:002009-06-18T06:05:06.849-07:00Oh I wish I was a design student with flowers in my hair...Ello all<br />These last few weeks have been possibly my most tense weeks in a while now. Some readers may know that my family's financial scene isn't the prettiest, yet somehow they maintain the same level of expectations they did when we did have money. It's admirable in a way, but it's also very frustrating, and as I mentioned worrying.<br />At some point after school I decided I wanted to be an idealist. The kind of person who took a job regardless of pay, as long as it was a job that fit my ethical threshold. My Father did this. After a very successful tenure as a bank manager, he realised his heart wasn't in it, so he took to a job that didn't pay well, guarantee longevity, or in fact, reward diligence. Perhaps it was bad luck and bad timing, but the point is, while he did follow his heart, it's not led him to a particularly secure place.<br />This scared me shitless. On the one hand, I desperately want to follow my heart and live my life without a dependance on money. On the other hand, I want a family. I want to have a nice internet connection at home. I want to be able to buy cold cuts and nice cheeses so I can have sandwiches whenever I want to. I want to randomly splurge on my wife. I don't want to be rich-rich. Just, you know comfortable.<br />Thing is, that takes money, and while yes principally and even morally I may be a bit more comfortable as a journalist, maybe it's worth the compromise if I can earn a decent living out of advertising. The picture isn't nearly that black and white. Sure I could earn a lot as a Journalist, and sure I could earn nothing as an ad-maker.<br />The bitch is that I'm so unbelievably petrified about what I should do after the year's done. Go to Australia, try for elsewhere, stay in India?<br />It just amazes me how we can spend so much time and energy doing things we don't particularly like or love, to the extent that we don't have anything left for what we DO like or love. And the fact that somehow, that could potentially even be worth it.<br />I don't know what I want, what I need, or what I should be doing. All I know is I'm at that point where I've got to make a decision that'll define everything. Sure I could change at any point, I'm not that linear to believe that the path I choose now is the path I'm stuck with. But the truth is, if I do pick the right one, it'll make shit a whole lot easier.<br />The only thing that's really pulling me through right now is the comic, and the fact that I've got a year to amp up my portfolio.<br />Growing up fucking blows.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-29984449726262640142009-06-12T22:25:00.000-07:002009-06-12T22:36:04.342-07:00The UnmaskingEllo all<br />Just a short one to let you all know that I've finally mustered up the courage to officially launch the web comic.<br />A few disclaimers are in order though. Firstly, the layout is rubbish but I'm working on a new banner which may take some time considering I have an exam in 2 days. Secondly, the image quality is equally rubbish and I think it's a glitch in my camera. I'll probably have to end up scanning though. I'm still in a testing phase. Thirdly, I've never done this before so if the actual strips themselves are rubbish, well let's hope and pray I learn soon.<br />This isn't something that'll grow into anything commercial, rather something I desperately want to do and figure it's worth the effort. At the moment it's all very rudimentary but I'm hoping I can make some progress and fast.<br />Anyway with much trepidation I present to you- <a href="http://rupees100.blogspot.com/">http://rupees100.blogspot.com</a> - a webcomic.<br />Credit to Anish for somehow locating the damn thing and commenting on it two whole days before I even told anyone I'd come up with a name. He is, in fact, the best.<br />Be gentle...Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-79076663999657066902009-06-09T10:37:00.000-07:002009-06-09T11:32:41.174-07:00ADVERTISING IS EVIL! AAAAAHHH!!<p>Ello all,</p><p>My laptop cable went kaput! about a week ago and as a result I've not just missed a couple of posts, I've also ended up delaying the webcomic reveal. Hopefully I'll do it tomorrow. </p><p>Anyway, I had a long talk with an ex- professor of mine today and it sent me on a bit of a spiral thoughtwise. Inner hyperlinking if you will. And all of a sudden I realised just what my problem with Advertising as a profession really is. </p><p>I remember in Kyra's second last semester she'd done a post about how it blew that she had to write copy, convincing copy at that, about a restaurant she'd never actually been to. At that point something about the whole idea of advertising made me cringe, but it was until today that I was able to really get just what it is that irks me about it.</p><p>Imagine all the brands in a certain segment are people. They have personalities, plans, failures, achievements and quirks. Some are excellent at what they do, some are quite rubbish. But at the end of the day, the only ones who really prosper, who really last long are the ones who seem to be the best. Advertising as a profession ensures that.</p><p>Now, it's unfair to assume that all brands with good marketing are poor brands. It's equally unfair to presume they're all good. In certain segments it's reasonably fair, and in certain segments in not. Vodafone, is an amazing brand, introspective and evolving and always concerned. Their media plan reflects that and they succeed. </p><p>On the other hand Mandvi Beach in Gujarat is possibly the most beautiful beach in India, yet due to a better media plan Goa will always seem like the premier beach destination. </p><p>Al Rees and Jack Trout believe that 'perception is reality' and unfortunately they're right. If Nokia looks and sounds like a better product, then no matter what Sony Ericsson offer as a product, they'll always be at a disadvantage. </p><p>And yes, it's all very well and good to just go along with this ludicrous concept but what we're essentially doing is sacrificing a definition of better which is deeper for one that is shallower. It's bullshit. And the sad thing is, there now exists a multi-million dollar industry dedicated solely to ensuring that this concept be pushed as far as it can go. </p><p>Yes there's seven billion of us. Yes there's far too many variables and dynamics to be successfully idealistic anymore, but what bothers me is the flagrant ease with which awesome pure ideals are dropped. </p><p>I'm not saying advertising is all nasty. The creative process involved in brand building and the insight derived from analysing consumers is amazing. The kind of work some firms put into humanizing products and brands is incredible. The way stuff like Saatchi and Saatchi's lovemarks extends to better management or the way Audi and Honda ads can leave people with their mouths gaping, is not something you can scoff at. </p><p>But not only are these values rare, they honestly appear to be the exception rather than the rule. And I don't know, it kind of seems like that ever-looming air of 'nasty' that lies over advertising is neither something that'll go away too soon, but something that doesn't really deserve to. </p><p>Luke Sullivan has this joke which goes something like this:</p><p><em>I've just started dating a devout Christian with a very strong moral fibre. My dad's in jail convicted of murder, my mother's a madam and my three siblings are extortionists. But I'm not sure I should tell her I'm in advertising!</em></p><p> </p>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-6575595837805875552009-05-20T23:57:00.000-07:002009-05-21T04:49:37.351-07:00Home is where the dogs are II (but not in any way a sequel...)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRgBwdLHoc9VuOryl9I0FaDr0cE7wSGtOwzi6IXX0F-8LGr6Lq091RodDqUrBZ0pJDF1S_Tym-D3cz3AAPWzbZ0cCa81LuEKUOLuJ8RwWAy-PyTIPnCfXYzoRmP2-CQkm2GTq/s1600-h/DSC01550.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338242852065828290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitRgBwdLHoc9VuOryl9I0FaDr0cE7wSGtOwzi6IXX0F-8LGr6Lq091RodDqUrBZ0pJDF1S_Tym-D3cz3AAPWzbZ0cCa81LuEKUOLuJ8RwWAy-PyTIPnCfXYzoRmP2-CQkm2GTq/s320/DSC01550.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ello all<br />Avid readers of the blog would know I've done a post with this title before. Actually that's not true. But I have done a post with the same title before. Except that that post was more about the home part, whereas this part is about the dogs part.<br />My parents recently adopted a new family member. His name's Oz and he's a 'Great Dane' by which I mean breed. He's born in Rajasthan and I doubt he's ever even heard of Denmark since Chiquita, our lab is from Punjab and probably doesn't know herself.<br />Anyway, he's taller than her already (about 2 feet high) and he's fawn. Thing is, since he's only 4 months old and very much a puppy, he comes off this big clumsy oaf. Tejas figures he's a dinosaur, but the point is, he's just a bit too big for his age and while a little furball tripping over itself and sitting on the other dog is cute, when he does it, it just seems retarded...<br />The point of the post is not a write up on my parents' dogs but rather, the amazing impact they have had on me whenever I've gone back to the farm.<br />I'm sure anyone who's read or seen Marley and Me would feel I'm just saying the same stuff but I just have to.<br />Dogs do not wake up with agendas. They do what they want, when they want and most importantly of all, IF they want. When they hit 3 years old they aren't concerned about college and when they hit 8 they aren't concerned about retirement. Sure they haven't invented electricity or whatever, but I honestly believe, that the manner in which dogs live, is indeed the exact same lifestyle countless spiritual leaders and thinkers across the planet have tried to get us humans to live.<br />Dogs do what is necessary and when it's necessary. If they're thirsty they drink. If they're hungry they eat. If they're hot they pant, if they're hotter they stick their heads in a bucket.<br />If they're upset they cry and if they're excited they bound. It's amazing. It's ultimate 'live for the moment' ness.<br />And the result of it, to me atleast, is the sheer amount of love any dog is capable of. Obviously a dog who's had his ears clipped and his tail cut and has been taught to be a vicious prick will eventually give in and be an asshole but for the most part, when dogs are left to be dogs, they can love almost anything. They can care for and comfort anyone and most amazingly, they'll do it even if you've been a real asshole to them.<br />Chiquita, our lab, came to us as a fat little pup with an intention to chew on everything. We got her as company for our previous lab Maggie who unfortunately passed away a couple months after Chiquita came. Since we were in Dubai, it meant that Chiquita grew up alone, without us and only our caretaker and gardener as company. Did she go into depression and neglect her health? No.<br />She ate as much as she could and became the gardener's best friend. Every time we came home she'd love us and sit with us and cuddle us every opportunity she got. When we left she'd be sad but she'd get over it and go back to her old routine. She continued this for about 4 years until my parents moved back. Then she just went on being as warm and loving as ever.<br />To me this is incredible. The fact that everytime I visit her nothing has changed. There's no resentment. There's no hard feeling at being abandoned the way she was. Only love.<br />I used to say in my next life I want to be a dog. Truth is, all I seriously want to achieve in this life, is the ability to be as warm and as loving as my dogs are.<br />If ever anyone needed more inspiration it's the fact that these dogs are subsequently the most loved as well. That is no coincidence.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-1668626621748628862009-05-14T03:48:00.000-07:002009-05-14T05:28:29.825-07:00Armageddon outta here!Ello all,<br />The other day I thought of an awesome idea for a script. Initially I was totally psyched and the thoughts were swirling. But then, when I thought about completing it practically I hit, what I hear is called, a snag.<br />And that snag is the same snag that snagged me whenever I started trying to write the graphic novel.<br />The snag is this,<br />I'm convinced we're all going to die, or something very close to it, in around 3, maybe 4 years time.<br />I don't know how or what or where or when, but I'm convinced it'll happen.<br />When that huge tsunami struck a few years ago, everyone was all boohoo and concerts and funds for about 6 months and then we all moved on.<br />Some, admittedly MORE than earlier kept at it, but for the most part where right back at square one.<br />And I'll admit, maybe I don't know nearly enough to be proper worried, but come on, we've been burning and cutting shit up for a good 4000 years now! I'm pretty sure the planet's going to give up soon.<br />I'm not usually one for believing conspiracy theories wholly, but something tells me that the <a href="http://www.abovetopsecret.com/">2012 hoohaa</a> might actually have something to it. I don't know if it'll be a flood, a flash or a bang. I don't know if it'll be one of them, and I don't know if it'll be all of them, but I know some bad shit is GOING to happen. I just know it.<br />The problem is, that now all my plans, involve hurried success. In that I HAVE to do the graphic novel AND the movie by 2011 otherwise once 2012 happens, it'll be too late.<br />If I have a brilliant script about football and bloggers, will people still want to watch it after whatever hits us in 2012. Will people give a shit about India and democracy and a young comic artist when we're living in fallout shelters and eating worms?<br />I'm not saying we'll all die. I know we won't. It can't be that easy. But I don't know, I've just got the feeling that it'll suck for a lot of us and the REST will die.<br />Does anyone else share the feeling?Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-78027315726279181012009-04-07T03:01:00.000-07:002009-04-07T03:33:53.984-07:00Bad day<em>Disclaimer: <a href="http://wethewritestuff.blogspot.com/">Tejas and Kyra</a> are awesome.</em><br />So today morning, when I woke up, I noticed the sun was shining just a little brighter than it usually does. Actually, it was shining a lot brighter. So much so, my first words were "Wuuurrhth" which is groggy talk for "what the hell?"<br />My curtains were missing. The bright orange, soul of the room, mood making, house-warming present-from-Kyra-and-Sairu curtains were gone. So I freaked out and eventually learnt that the cleaning lady had taken them to the wash.<br />But just as I was starting to calm down, I noticed she'd left the window open and two pigeons had flown into the room and were presently, having sex on top of my cupboard. After shooing the fuckers (heh.) off, things were back to relative normalcy, except for the man gawking at me through the hole in my window.<br />Anyway, I then chilled for a bit and eventually set off to do some bank work for the exam bound Kyra. Sure enough, when I had to show the ticket collector my pass, I'd left mine at home. Instead I had a pass that expired in February.<br />So 10 minutes and Rs. 250 later (he was sweet enough to forego 4 bucks since neither of us had change), I reached the bank and guess what-<br />It's a bank holiday.<br />So in a huff I caught a rickshaw and came here to Kyra's where I'm presently blogging. But before I came upstairs I had some milk and decided to smoke in the surprisingly pleasant breeze only nice neighbourhoods are allowed.<br />While I was smoking, it suddenly occured to me, that while a whole lot of bad things had happened to me today, it wasn't actually a bad day. In fact, I actually felt quite pleasant and genuinely didn't feel stressed, or fried or anything like that. I even realised my tooth's stopped aching.<br />And it got me thinking, during the semester, usually even fewer 'bad' things happen to me in a day, but for some reason, it always tends to bring me down. The two people closest to me, Kyra and Tejas, usually tend to get overwhelmed and depressed by things like this, and it always used to amaze me how they'd anticipate something bad just so they could further compound the wretched day they'd be having. And with both of them, I saw that if something did go their way, because they were so expecting it not to, they wouldn't actually be happy about the something good, in fact they'd be just a teeny bit sad that it didn't work out the way they thought it would.<br />And, like all great introspection, I noticed I was doing the same thing only after I saw them doing it. Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them to peices but this is one of their more frustrating traits (frustraits) and I've had it the whole bloody time.<br />Now, I'm not saying one must smell the flowers or any of that shit, but I don't know, the sudden change in perspective I got today's got me wondering if everytime it feels like a shitty day, it's really not, but because the bullshit's picked up so much momentum, we just end up thinking it's a bad day anyway.<br />I'm not particularly sure what this whole post's been about anyway, but I must say, after pigeons getting jiggy, me getting fined and the bank being closed, I still had a pleasant day and now I'm sitting next to the pretty Ms. Mathews. I think it might have been the cigarettes. Or the milk. Or the breeze. Or Kyra. Probably the cigarettes though. So yes, smoke. It'll make a shitty day a not so shitty day.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-43597183713143022602009-04-02T04:22:00.000-07:002009-04-02T04:59:44.266-07:00Agin' and Ragin'I'm not too sure if this post is better suited for the other blog, it's just that it's extremely personal so I figure it's only proper if it's here.<br />I just watched Gran Turino. I've only ever cried in two movies in my life. The first being Rugrats (I was young) and the second being When a Man loves a Woman (I was breaking down).<br />I did not cry during Gran Turino, but I certainly felt like I wanted to.<br />The film for those of you who don't know, is about an aging Vietnam war vet played by Clint Eastwood, who grows past his biases and prejudices in a shit hole ghetto, where he lives, along with his dog Daisy and his '72 Gran Turino, which for the layman is a beautiful muscle car.<br />To say the film is moving, is to say Kill Bill is violent. It doesn't cut it.<br />What prompted me to write this though, was the way it hit home on a topic, or idea really, that I've been haranguing myself with for the past few months.<br />I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm in that phase between comfort and the real world- college. And everyday I find myself upset with what I am and what I'm becoming, and everyday I feel a little more uncomfortable in myself.<br />So I try to remember and emulate easier times, when things were clearer and I could honestly say I was hitting my peak everyday. And obviously, this has led me to miss my life as a teenager. To wish I had the drive and clarity of that time, when I could dream easily without being cynical. When I felt like I was the protagonist in a super movie where the plot keeps getting better and better and I could count on what would happen next. When everytime I was working there was this awesome music in the background, and I was the center of this killer montage.<br />But ever since the script that comes with school and parental control went away and I reached this place where MY choices decide the plotline, I feel like I'm floundering. Now that my first year is gone and my second year too has ended, the 'exploration' part of the film is over and like the bridge of a Bon Jovi song, I'm in that part where the harmonies come together slowing everything down, leaving you completely uncertain about whether or not the song is ever going to be the same again.<br />But then there's the key change and the chorus <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">BURSTS <span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#000000;">out louder and clearer than ever, making your chest swell like you're about to fucking scream (or Yawp! for those who've seen Dead Poets Society).</span></span><br />In the movie Dazed and Confused, there's this line that goes something to the effect of "I'm tired of treating the present like it's some sort of inconvenient step on the way to whatever my future should be..."<br />That got me thinking. We all know all the bullshit about 'live life' and 'live in the present' and all matter is just energy and all of that, but why do we treat it like it's some academic bullshit we can use in an argument at some point, or to nod 'I know' when someone else is trying to sound intellectual.<br />My dad and I have had all these talks, and in school, debating and in class we've been over all of this. I've read Tuesdays with Morrie and I've seen a whole bunch of movies that are all SUPPOSED to have inspired me. But somehow I've never actually done it. I've always admired people who do shit, even if it's not fully thought through. Who up and travel, or shut up and learn, or get down and practise. But for some bizarre reason, I'm just struggling to be any of that and over these past few weeks, it's been hitting me harder and harder, that the only thing all these guys have in common, is that they aren't bothered about the end result or the way things were. All they care about is what's at hand and what needs to be done. END OF STORY.<br />Clint Eastwood, is an old man struggling with past sins and mortality, and I'm a young guy struggling with past glory and future failures.<br />I've gone ahead and got myself caught up in all the fucking nitty gritty bullshit and complete forgotten what really matters- that I'm a 21 year old guy who can't draw his own characters and needs to practise.<br />Fuck.<br />I've always felt, if we all knew less we'd get more done. It's sort of like expectations. Either expect everything or expect nothing. Know nothing, or know everything. The mid part is just weird.<br />Anyway. I've said enough.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-29882100295618323152009-03-05T20:38:00.000-08:002009-03-05T20:41:42.849-08:00Sucks and the city?Ello all<br />I’m smoking a cigarette and waiting for my bath water to fill. While I’ve been doing this I unfortunately caught about ten minutes of Sex and the City.<br />Now before I move further with this rant, I must make it clear that I am contractually obligated to never bitch about Sex and the City. The contract is my relationship with Kyra and the consequences are painful guilt trips, yelling and generally a little bit of arm hair pulling.<br />But today’s show was particularly painful because Carrie Bradshaw has decided she’s a cynic who doesn’t believe in love and her friend ‘Cute girl with dark hair’ (Can’t recall her name now…) is the one who always believes in love.<br />Anyway they went on and on about how you’re supposed to believe in love and you’re supposed to put yourself out there and then it’ll come to you and blah blah blah. Now. This is all very run of the mill right? I mean it’s on every single show on American television. But it suddenly reminded me what I hate so much about this widely accepted notion that love is the indefinite mystery which exists and floats around and controls people’s hearts. <br />I’ve been a proper Indian lover for about 15 months now and I’d like to finally, categorically put forth my own notion of love, which believe me, is a far simpler fucking notion.<br />Love is boring. It is not a good movie script. It is barely even a good memory. It is nothing more than a really good feeling. Love is the unhindered belief in something’s core, something’s essence. The reason people spend so much money and do so many things for other people is because they trust deep down and count on the other person’s deepest self.<br />People love money right? If you love it and work for it you’ll get a hundred bucks which you can then spend on candy. And then you’ll think ‘hmm money’s dependable!’<br />With people, you don’t always get the candy. Sometimes you get the wrong type of candy. Then you get disappointed and you cry and your heart breaks and you lose faith and you think ‘hmm people- not so dependable!’<br />Most people wear masks to hide themselves because they don’t think they’re more valuable than what’s on the mask. Which is horrible right? It’s a fucking mask for god’s sake. There’s people with values and experiences and dreams and hopes and memories- who presume a plastic mask is more valuable.<br />It’s true masks are fun. And they’re wonderful at times too, but when all you have is your mask, you start to fantasize about what love really is. And you romanticize it and you build it up and completely miss the reality of it all. My love for Kyra is not the flowers I got her on our anniversary, it’s the idea that she’s worth the effort to make happy. Love is not something you wait around for- it’s something you DO!<br />Marxists love Marx and capitalists love profits. Hindus love Shiva. They just do. Everything I do and feel for Kyra is because her core, her self is so fucking awesome to me I can’t help but love it, NOT because of a baby with a cross bow sitting on a crowd in designer diapers!<br />My point, at the end is, if everyone just went ahead and loved and got, that when it doesn’t work out, it’s because it didn’t and the world is not against your middle class urbanite ass. Men are not assholes. Women are not sluts, and if we keep believing in the bullshit they’re feeding us on most TV we’re just going to get confused.<br />For me, the truest depictions of love in American Cinema are the relationships in the movies ‘When a Man loves a Woman’ and ‘Marley and Me.’<br />Love IS like Oxygen. Not in a romantic ‘Oh so can’t live without it’ kind of a way- more in a yes it’s there, and yes it’s fucking awesome and yes I’ll always appreciate it, but what the fuck am I supposed to do now?<br />That is all.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-6339375763878227482009-02-01T08:49:00.000-08:002009-02-01T09:29:13.971-08:00Run to youello all<br />It would seem like I'm going to blog on the 31st of every month. But I'm not. I could say it and all but the truth is February has only 28 days. I would otherwise though. What?<br />Last month because I was a bit low on cash, I was walking a whole lot more and amazingly, the long walks down the sky walk or to stations or just randomly walking around at night, were the most therapeutic (for lack ANY other word) moments I've had in my recent slump. As a result I'm feeling a little taller and from being a screw up who did a few decent things, I've started to see myself as a decent guy who screws up a few things. Pretty killer I'd say, it's just that there are still those screw ups.<br />Anyway before this thing gets anymore alcoholics anonymous, I need to get this out. Walking when you're fucking tired, dry in the mouth and just fucking sick of everything is the best thing in the world. You're completely exhausted at the end of it but not in a groggy pass out way, in a puffy eyed feeling good tonight sort of way. I've realised my hunt for comfort was only fun as long as it was a hunt, because prolonged comfort is just fucking stagnation and I do not appreciate it.<br />I could never elucidate the way walking works better than Tejas did in one of his last blogs (back when the lazy fucker still wrote) but man, with Franz Ferdinand (THE most trancedental band I know), Bon Jovi and more recently the awesome hootings of Reel Big Fish, there is fucking no problem you cannot deal with when you're on the road. I don't know why and I couldn't be fucked to, but that's how it is. My mum always tells me when you work out and stuff the oxygen reaches your head quicker or something and you do better. Whatever it is, it works.<br />I've realised most of the greatest lessons I ever learnt, I took for granted and basically forgot. Funny thing is, most of the lessons are the really obvious ones you learn in school. I just sort of waved them off as being too simplistic for this oh so complex life I lead. What fucking shit. The longest lasting compliment I ever got was in the 6th grade playing squash with a friend of my dad's. The guy told me he could never beat me because I ran for every shot on the court no matter how far away it was. I don't know if I have that tenacity anymore, and it's a fucking shame if I don't. There is no logical justification for my 6th grade self being a better guy than my present self. Sure I know what a media plan is and why deconstructionism is a pain in the crotch but how the fuck is any of that going to make me a better writer?<br />Anyway now that I have cash I'm taking more cabs and blowing most of it. I'm not the wisest guy around now am I? Working on it anyway. I pretend I'm broke and sometimes manage to get shit done. I've started a journal for my more honest, less articulate and yes deeper thoughts. That's right I'm pretentious, wanna fighd aboud it?<br />Not much else on I suppose. There is ofcourse the very resolute group of over achievers wearing Arsenal badges pretending to be the team I'm supposed to link my existence to, but I don't know what to make of it anymore. I don't recognise or love that club the way I did only 3 months ago and it's a fucking shame. I'm sure our lives still have that bloody relative thing I'm always on about but right now, that is not a football club with the values I could spend hours arguing about. I love the club to peices but someone needs to change something somewhere in the cosmos before this club becomes anything like the paragons who murdered direct football all these years. Samir Nasri though, is in my opinion, signing of the season, and Denilson, Robin, Djourou, Sagna and even Song all deserve fucking medals of honour but it's not enough and I'm already working out the bright sides of UEFA cup football. I don't have to hope they show our game and not United's next year. That's something. Personally, I just hope I can see a full strength Arsenal doing some of the total football GM they're known for, before the end of the season. Even once, and even if we lose the game 5-4 to Stoke while we do it, I don't care. I just want to know that it still exists.<br />Anyway that's all for now. Rambly blog today. Needed to write. Need to write. Will Write. Haha.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-35573280545703232512008-12-31T10:57:00.000-08:002008-12-31T11:28:00.637-08:00Angles and shitChristmas and New year posts. Hallmark must feel they've converted another. It isn't true. They're significant to the timing of these posts but not for their intended reasons. Other factors have prompted this.<br />2008 is the most introspective I've ever been. The most critical and the most cynical. The culmination of which led to my last post. I've achieved nothing and have deteriorated considerably. I've tried to change and regressed. However, regression isn't as straight forward as it seems. I can't have regressed into something I used to be. Because I was never anything with the knowledge and experience I now have. Nitpicking bullshit at the face of it, but it's a pretty significant realisation for me. I'm in Jaipur again. It's comfortable and I've been immobile and silently desperate.<br />It made me realise I haven't had perspective in one year. A year of self obsession. How motherfucking unbelievable? I have never been so fucking stunned at my own bullshit. Anyway I haven't even managed more than a mention in the New year blog of the only person I've obsessed over more than myself this past year. The single most important person in my life, who I have spent every waking moment worried about or happy for, and I'm a mention. I never thought I'd regret as much as I have, but that ofcourse is only because there is so precious little I have at present to enjoy.<br />I don't believe in pretentious resolutions and plans for the self, but I'm going to try and climb out of the muddled mess that has become my own ass. I have a book to write and I cannot draw to save my life. I have a lot of money to save and a very dear loved one to hang on to before some famous guy with a roller coaster on his chest can take her away (bad dream- as I said, I'm in Jaipur again).<br />I'm very very frustrated after last year and 46 minutes into this new one I know I've got to buck the fuck up for this one. Odd numbered years bode well for me. Then again I was born in 88. Fuck. I think I'll blog more. I'm not saying I should or I'll try to. I just think I will.<br />I do love talking and thinking and sitting and feeling and being and loving and all that, but whether I like it or not I have to, by way of my life's flow thus far, I have to keep moving and changing and I have had a year of that horrible term in economics that everyone always lost 2 marks attempting to define- S T A G F L A T I O N.<br />Stagnation and inflation. An undue raise of value which is maintained until everything stagnates and shrivels up to fucking die.<br />I don't want to fucking die, especially not if I am as fucking lonely within the wretched confines of this very nasty head. If I do die, I need it to be known, I am unhappy as myself and I am unhappy as the biggest fuck up of 2008. But I am going to go ahead and try to feel a bit better about myself in 2010. I'm going to be worth more blogs and I'm going to make people happy by just doing my own fucking thing. I'm going to make up terms and live by them for the fuck of it. I'm going to make people happy I was fucking alive and I'm going to make people happy I'm dead. I'm going to write till people see what a snivelling cunt Tejas Modak truly is and I'm going to make a fuck load of money so I can stay home at age 26 to eat well and make babies.<br />I am going to fucking live and I am fucking petrified. But I'm not dead.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-12907830691077149142008-12-25T07:13:00.001-08:002008-12-25T07:15:46.418-08:00Enough. Enough now.I'm sitting in a bus heading back to Mumbai. I've just left my best friend and it's Christmas. I owe three people over 3500 rupees. I'm a negative, cynical, holier than thou asshole and I've finally crashed lower than rock bottom. I am at full throttle self hatred. There is a handful of people on this planet who love me for what I am, was and will be. I love them very much. In some way or another, I have hurt them all. I've either not stayed in touch, missed a birthday by 12 days, missed a birthday completely, or been a defensive narrow minded asshole with. I can't say enough, how sorry I am.<br />I've just spent 3 days with the most perfect couple I've met. I don't know why or how, but after a very satisfying meal with Tejas, I've realised that I'm not in a rut. I'm not depressed. I'm not deranged. I am quite simply disgusted with the creature I've turned into.<br />When I came to Mumbai I promised myself I wouldn't turn into a cynical, all knowing, all hating asshole, but somewhere along the line, during my quest to live subjectively and not objectively, I've turned into just that. I no longer hope and I no longer dream. I barely have any earnestly positive thoughts in my head, they're either forced or rationalised and they're all bullshit. On the other hand I can complain about anything and generally do. Especially things I don't dislike. I tell myself it's to maintain both sides of a coin. It's that age old bull shit self preservation technique people usually spew, of if you aren't happy you can't get disappointed. It's a horrible sensation and it's driven me into an even worse downward spiral than I was in. I've tried change and new things but the fact is, I'm going to have to work my way out of this without much change until I'm finally different.<br />I've hurt, repeatedly and ruthlessly, a person who has grown from friend to lover to wife and now to an essential part of my nervous system. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever met and she's the only thing I've never stopped admiring through all the self pity and deprecation. She's the ingredient to a perfect future, the person that makes you go " Fuck. I'm going to live me a good life now..."<br />I've gotten so caught up in my own doubt, and hating that I've ended up butchering her stability and I'm luckier than the luckiest guy in the world that she's still with me. The luckiest guy in the world, incidentally, is me as well, only I'm that lucky for having her in the first place.<br />I'm sorry. I'm going to have to fight like a bitch to get out of this fuck all rut, only now I know it's not a rut, it's a fucking grave.<br />I have all the technology anyone could fucking need. I have a home. Yes a home. A room with facilities, which has been converted into a home with the wave of a magic wand from a certain fairy. So few people read my shit anymore I can afford to be wholly personal and direct! I have a beautiful, perfect wife and some beautiful, perfect friends and a loving family. I deserve none of this shit but I have it so I'm going to up and earn it now.<br />To everyone I've hurt, I know you'll forgive me, but not for qualities of my own, rather qualities of yours. You guys are fucking awesome. To the wife, I'm going to grow into that George Clooney smile till it fucking fits.<br />I love you all.<br />PS It has been real effort not tying this up with the crisis at Arsenal. It fits perfectly but this time I'll fix up before they need to. Let's hope they follow.<br />PPS Tejas- Wanna fighd aboud id? and Thank you for Love Actually. Undoubtedly the catalyst now that I come to think of it.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-64156357402576292402008-11-05T06:45:00.000-08:002008-11-05T07:10:12.279-08:00In a nokiatic sense...Ello all,<br />I'll warn you beforehand, this post is forced. Tonight the Arsenal faces Fenerbahce in a Champions league group match and ordinarily, this wouldn't be a tremendously significant game, however circumstances have made it a rather extra ordinary one.<br /><br />Ever since the 9th grade when I started supporting the Gunners there's been a direct corelation to events in my own life. 9th grade when I really began my life, socially anyway, in Dubai, was the invincible season and it was a feeling I had right through the year. Subsequently it's a bit hazy, but let's just say Arsenal never did too well during my boards...<br />Last year, arguably the greatest year of my life for several reasons, coincided with what was considered a revival of invincible Arsenal. Most tellingly, the day we beat Chelsea was the day Kyra said yes. However just as that season started to run out of steam, it seems so did I and by the end I was as crestfallen as Wenger was after that cunt Kuyt tripped himself and won Liverpool that penalty.<br />I've written a bunch of posts over the last year about how I'm coming back, I've made a lot of promises about the return of invincible hobo and the truth is I'm so tired I don't have the energy to push myself the way I did at the start of first year. My mind is this horrible mess and I don't get brilliant ideas in the shower anymore. I've not burnt out because I've really not merited a burn out, I've just gotten so caught up in how to be and what to be and doubting and trying to be and all that psycho analytical bull crap that I've lost will power.<br />I saw this episode of House where this girl gets this condition called Abulia. It's the loss of will. So you can't decide and the tension makes you faint. I'm nowhere near that shit and thank god, but I'm so close to it I want to scream, but then again, I'm not really sure I want to scream.<br />It's taken alot to get me to write lately and other than spewing out acceptable articles for a site bizarre enough to pay me, I've really hit a brick wall on the expression front.<br />I'm teaching myself how to play the guitar and enjoying the fact that I have a vague control over the sounds of an object, but the truth is I feel winded. I can't get myself to draw and write, two things I love to do. I can't seem to get myself to do much beyond playing an inane video game. I can't even zone out in front of the television.<br />It's true, this is a pathless rant but after everything I've tried only written catharsis is left really.<br />My immune system gave away finally and I can't help but feel like it's a fucking metaphor for my grit. If my grit's as fucked as my liver after Malaria then I'm headed for trouble. On the other hand, all the greatest tasks and things ever done have originated in the individual constantly saying 'fuck it' and going straight forward, but that's not something I really have in me right now and it's a feeling I have never till this date had. It's not scary or saddening it's just repressively dull and it makes me want to jump out of my skin just so I can feel fresh again.<br /><br />I've been trying to get past this and another something I won't get into and I haven't and the dissatisfaction, the feeling of an incomplete task despite herculean effort, has made me miss, more than anything else, that feeling you get when you've left 8th grade or 7th grade or whatever grade, and you have a new school bag, new books, new clothes and sometimes a new hairstyle, and you walk in with this almost clean slate and there's nothing you can't fucking do and there's no amount of Hindi lectures you can't stay awake through.<br />That's a fucking beautiful feeling. And I fucking miss it. I have everything I need for it to happen. A new laptop, new clothes, a new phone, a new camera, a guitar soon, it's just my fucking outlook is the same boring one of Arsenal with their heads hanging down and that beautiful man Mathieu Flamini slumping because we couldn't put one past Wigan.<br /><br />So tonight, and honestly, on Saturday when we face the Tampons of Manchester ("Once they get in, they're always going to come out red...") I'm looking forward to and I'm going to make a genuine effort to pump my fists and cheer on the mighty Gunners with every ounce of spirit I have. If they can get through this, then I can't help but feel like I can too.<br /><br />Come on you Reds!Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-40230810515093310562008-07-14T19:59:00.000-07:002008-07-14T20:33:57.295-07:00Missing Monies Making Me Sadello all<br />So college has well and truly begun. Insane levels of stress and stupidity with festival preparations, lectures attended, lectures missed, alien FYs and grumpy professors.<br />Yes, nothing has changed from last year.<br />Except for the small matter of a 33% fee increase!<br />Completely out of the blue, for no given explanation the college goes and ups our fees by no less than Rs. 6000. And the interesting part is, the bulk of those fees come from our very inflated tuition fees.<br />Now if the books we used and the subject material the teachers used were made out of crude oil barrels I might have understood, but they're not and a rough estimate of how much MORE my college will be raking in because of this is about Rs. 11 Lakh.<br />11 Lakh. Last year's salary expenses for our department alone was just shy of 10 lakhs. Once again I stress that the figure of 11 lakh is how much MORE money they're taking in.<br />So you'd figure theyll increase the teacher's salaries right? I mean our professors do work their asses off and it IS entirely selfless for the most part and it's hard to accuse any of them of being anything short of decent.<br />But the salary increase is marginal at best. So then, where IS the money going? I know for a fact that we're one of the only colleges who actually went and upped the fees. I shan't name names but there are several colleges who have chosen NOT to have such a sharp increase. There's even a college getting ready to construct a sound recording studio...!<br />And guess what, it's not us!<br />The Vice Chancellor is his all his transparent glory has uploaded his budget for the year on the Mumbai University Website. I'd link but the site is down at the time of typing this.<br />It includes provisions of Lakhs of Rupees as 'incentive' to 'attend international teacher conferences.' Fair enough. A few more lakhs are going into researching the <a href="http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/2007/04/02/stories/2007040203720300.htm">possibility of being listed on the BSE.</a> Once again a smart investment I'd say. But then it gets a little, how do I put it- Vague. Several lakhs have been put away as 'incentive' (they do love the word!) to enter the 'top 400 universities in the world' and as further 'incentive' to the new autonomous departments.<br /><br />Now I've not seen any official documents. I haven't run any RTIs. I've used Google and asked a few very simple questions. I cannot do any more than speculate as to what is going on at the university and I cannot honestly say it's all shady.<br />All I can say is (and this is where the theme comes in) why is nobody asking?<br />Why is nobody bothered enough to give a fuck and question the things being done?<br />If there was one thing I'd change about my college, it'd be the mass apathy of it's students. My college has recently grown anal retentive and decided we can't enter after three because we 'walk around and go to the canteen!' We can't even sit on the beautiful steps we've sat on for a year because it makes things look 'ugly.'<br />The changes are drastic and horribly annoying. If I didn't know any better I'd say I was in fucking Xaviers! But the student reaction has baffled me even more.<br />A petition has been signed because the students are unhappy. Several hundred students have signed and the unity is astounding and the fervour of revolution is in the air.<br />Only problem is- it's against the guards!<br />A college education, high school, primary school, tuitions, story books, internet, note books, movies, television and every other form of awareness at all our disposals-<br />And we shoot the messenger!<br />For fuck's sake.<br />I feel particularly Indian lately.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-60140441799356850022008-06-19T08:34:00.001-07:002008-06-19T09:13:44.715-07:00Underestimation confessionello all<br />So, I was researching some stuff for my next peice (and post) and I stumbled across some awesome sites- based in India!<br />For Polaris 2008, the Wilson Festival we've taken up New Media as our theme and the one reason I pushed for it, and the new media workshop we're having is because I'm so worried Indian citizens and private entrepeneurs are not paying enough attention to the power of web 2.0. I love the net. The number of random blogs and articles I read in a day are comparable to the number of books I don't read and as my co-ordinator would tell you, it's plenty.<br /><br />Now I wouldn't dare undermine the use of the net by the people I know. For anyone who's read my blog roll you'd know that with Quaint murmur, view from beneath, mappings, etc. it's fairly evident we've got some great writers out there.<br />However it is thoroughly refreshing to find blogs and opinions from outside my friend's circle and the people I know. Having looked for jobs and in discussion with <a href="http://www.winningedgemagazine.com/">this neat lady</a> I thought I knew pretty much all there was to know about India's web participation.<br />As it stands, I was horribly narrow minded and happily surprised to find these sites:<br />1) <a href="http://playcircuit.com/">PlayCircuit</a>: Kick ass site and a must see for anyone into advertising or marketting. A few months ago I'd found a brilliant blog for <a href="http://www.arrod.co.uk/">management insight</a> by some American student, but this one as well as the <a href="http://indianprforum.blogspot.com/">Indian PR Forum site</a> are equally awesome for their feilds.<br />2) <a href="http://dhimant.blogspot.com/">Dhi Only One</a> and <a href="http://www.churumuri.wordpress.com/">Churumuri</a> : Two opinionated, seemingly well read Indians giving their schpeal on several things. I don't agree with alot of what is said, but as I mentioned on the latter's blog, discussion and debate is where it's at if we want to get anywhere, and it's always great to see people not leaving it to the men in white over in the parliament.<br /><br />I am certain theres tons more out there, and please do mention anything worth mentioning in the comments, but it's thoroughly refreshing to find sites like these and I hope to find more.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-84624187470987502602008-06-15T00:19:00.000-07:002008-06-15T00:40:47.013-07:00Trumpets if you must...ello all<br />A few posts back I declared my decision to change things up. Since then, I've changed the look of my blog twice, I've written two posts unlike anything I've ever written before and I've shaved my head. I expected all of them to feel fantastic. I expected the change to be instant and epiphanal. I expected a bald head to feel so good after the knotty long curls. I expected too much from a 'one' and I expected too much from myself.<br />I think I may have delved back into my Chelsea roots in some way. I was looking at results and expecting satisfaction.<br />It was a hollow, scary, painful and helpless experience and it didn't seem like it was ever going to end. I was living in the eyes of other people. I was living in the eyes of unimpressed professors and dead friendships. And as much as I knew, and as much as I told myself and was told by the only one who bothered to tell, the sheer futility of seeing myself from someone else's eyes never really dawned upon me.<br />Now I'm not saying one should never look through someone else's eyes, I'm not saying other people don't matter, all I'm saying is living by it and doubting yourself because of it, is if nothing else, dreadfully tiring.<br />It's not been instant, it's lasted weeks and tears, but the clouds seem to have moved on over now that the monsoon is here.<br />I'm writing for myself. For what I want. I'm writing for the impact I want to create. If I don't, I'll try again until I do it. The excitement of spontaneity and now-ness is incredible but it's not sustainable. Now the time has come for a far longer lasting satisfaction. Comfort and living.<br />The leaf is cleaned and it's not turned but the angle's changed a bit. In my right back pocket is a notebook. In my bag there are plans and in my head there's a buzz. Not an insane fuzzy confused buzz but a focused buzz with a smirk.<br />With a comfort I can count on and a will to not feel like shit, I doubt I can do much wrong.<br />There are things to be done.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-61738936446480938082008-05-30T11:27:00.000-07:002008-06-02T12:14:41.082-07:00Sepp Blatter- He ain't got no alibi<strong>UPDATE: </strong><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">Since this post, I've been reading up a bit more, mostly from Andrew Jennings, <a href="http://www.transparencyinsport.org/">the only journalist to be banned by FIFA</a>. The conclusion I've reached is this: </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">A week before Euro 2008, with a little more than a month before the ruling in Zug, Switzerland which may well lead to an indictment for Blatter and several other executives for fraud and bribery charges worth 100s of millions of dollars, it seems very probable that FIFA would look to draw attention AWAY, from the fact they're a bunch of big fat cunts. </span></em><br /><em>And so, I will speculate, this whole episode with the 6+5 thing, is nothing more than a media parade aimed to ensure bored fans don't start wondering why FIFA's had more than 20 executives confess to bribery, their Vice president sells TV rights for world cups privately and assaults journalists, and ofcourse, why they're such a bunch of big fat cunts.</em><br /><em>If Blatter does go down, I will further speculate, that either Michel Platini, or Franz Beckenbauer will take his place and continue the basic workings of big fat cunts.</em><br /><em>No coincidence though that they were sponsored and brought in PERSONALLY by Adidas' cheif Horst Dassler, who incidentally formed and ran the ISL company who bribed FIFA- something they're being investigated for with a ruling due in...motherfucker! A little over a month!</em><br /><em>Big.Fat.Cunts.</em><br /><em>That is all.</em><br />_________________________________________________________________<br />Ello all.<br />The 6+5 debate rages on but before anyone goes any further I would like to help you all come to terms with WHO or WHAT, exactly is suggesting and pushing for this most.<br />Mr. Sepp Blatter.<br />Like all good character slating, I will start where he did. Blatter was involved in the setting up of the '72 and '76 Olympics. He was also General secretary of the Swiss Ice Hockey federation. But most importantly, he was elected the President of the World Society of friends of suspenders. A group aimed at protesting women's replacement of suspenders with pantyhose. Whether or not this had anything to do with the following quote about women's football players is for you to decide:<br /><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2004/jan/16/football.gender" target="_blank" mce_href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2004/jan/16/football.gender"><em>"They could, for example, have tighter shorts. Female players are pretty, if you excuse me for saying so, and they already have some different rules to men - such as playing with a lighter ball. That decision was taken to create a more female aesthetic, so why not do it in fashion?"</em></a><br />Anyway, Sepp then went on to join FIFA in 1975 as technical director. It is widely accepted and there is ample evidence to <a href="http://www.playthegame.org/Conferences/Play_the_Game_2007/presentations/jenningspaper.aspx" target="_blank" mce_href="http://www.playthegame.org/Conferences/Play_the_Game_2007/presentations/jenningspaper.aspx">suggest</a> that this appointment had less to do with his actual competence and more to do with his ass licking of Horst Dassler, the head of ISL and Adidas, which for those who are unaware, is the company which created the idea of sports marketting. Dassler along with Patrick Nally, both geniuses in their own rights, devised a way of earning billions in TV rights and sponsorship of events such as the Olympics and the World cup, etc.<br />In order to do that they would need considerable leverage within these federations. It was first, Blatter's predecessor Joao Havelange who lived it up with their bribery, and then when he decided he was done, they had to move along to someone new- Blatter. He was effectively instated BY them.<br />The fact that he has been repeatedly drowned in <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2002/WORLD/europe/02/28/soccer.blatter/index.html?related">allegations of corruption</a> and bribery related to his elections should be enough to convince anyone. The President of the Somalian FA is quoted as saying, <em>"The night before the election people were lining up in Le Meridien Hotel (in Paris) to receive money. Some told me they got $50,000 before the vote and the same the next day, after Blatter won."</em><br />But there's tons more. Blatter's re-election was unopposed even though only 66 of the 207 members actually nominated him!<br />But the worst part, the frustrating part of it, is that he <a href="http://www.swissinfo.org/eng/social_affairs/detail/Blatter_cleared_of_corruption.html?siteSect=201&sid=1495711&cKey=1039003200000">always gets away with it.</a> It was the exceptional, gutsy work from the 2002 World cup's cheif organiser Michael Zen Ruffinen that led to the charges levied against Blatter and 11 other top FIFA officials. And it was this very work which <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/2016855.stm">saw him get fired</a> just hours before the World cup HE organised, because Blatter had had enough of his "negative comments".<br /><em>"On Friday, the executive committee is going to take care of `Mr Clean'. Now it is finished. The last negative comments by Zen-Ruffinen after my re-election were the last straw."</em><br /><em></em><br />I can assure you this post has taken me no more than 2 hours and all I've had to do is read the links in it and a few more. The sheer ugliness of FIFA's dealings, and the sheer ugliness of <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7289346.stm">Horst Dassler's dealings during his time with Adidas</a>, are, if nothing else, terrifying.<br />This man has no concept of what his position signifies. He has repeatedly over stepped his authority, accusing the English FA of shoddy work with the Martin Taylor ban, <a href="http://gopetition.com/online/9988.html">'apologising'</a> to Aussie fans for official's actions, saying women footballers need to dress skimpier, the list goes on.<br />The fact that so many people, <a href="http://epltalk.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=221554/">top investigative journalists</a> of our time have dug up so much shit on him, and despite <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/1974333.stm">momentary discomfort</a>, he gets away <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/1926839.stm">scot free</a>, is even scarier.<br />FIFA has "<em>apparently"</em> voted unanimously FOR the 6+5 rule and are trying to move the EU to change it's employment laws for it to be passed by 2012. The rule will debilitate and ruin world football and not only make the rich richer, but leave football's poor poorer. And this absolute turd of a man may just make it happen saying it's 'for the fans' though not a single one has probably been consulted. No Platini does NOT count.<br /><a href="http://soccerlens.com/a-tale-of-two-men/6408/">Ahmed Bilal</a>, <a href="http://www.transparencyinsport.org/">Andrew Jennings</a> with <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/panorama/5070224.stm">BBC Panorama</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pitch-Invasion-Adidas-Making-Modern/dp/0713998881">Barbara Smit</a> have all done some incredible work on the subject but unless this kind of information makes it to blogs and forums everywhere it won't be known. This post is a mere compilation of facts. I would hope it gets around. Even if you don't read every link I've placed, do read the first two in this paragraph for a short 'introduction.'<br /><br />Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Mr. Sepp Blatter- the most powerful man in world football today.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-85426456007198375872008-05-26T03:50:00.000-07:002008-05-26T04:52:24.163-07:00Raw fucking SpiteJai Hind fucked me over. That's Jai Hind college in South Mumbai for anyone typing these keywords in google, who may or may not look this way.<br />I am a student of Wilson College, and let me make this clear- I despise Jai Hind and everything they do. In fact, ever since I actually got to know colleges in Bombay I've hated them. And when I say got to know, I don't mean heard from family, I mean got to know the people who study within the colleges, and believe me, that is far more telling than any brochure could ever be.<br />However, that is a personal, biased, somewhat irrational hatred which you probably shouldn't listen to.<br />And so, I present to whoever reads this page, a far more tangible reason for hating the college.<br />On December 16th, Jai Hind BMS's annual festival Talaash officially began. To find out more about the festival you can google it. What you'll find is <a href="http://www.mumbaimirror.com/net/mmpaper.aspx?page=article&sectid=2&contentid=2007121520071215033445629a38c0bd&pageno=1">this</a>.<br />The article is written by Mumbai Mirror. It states several facts. They say there were 15000 participants. They say there were 50 events, and they also say Talaash would go on to be one of the biggest college festivals of the year.<br />What they don't say is how Talaash has also proved to be one of <em><strong>the biggest scams of the year</strong></em>.<br />I've attended and participated in enough festivals in my first year to be branded a 'festival whore' and let me tell you this. I have never encountered such blatant disregard for effort and such self involved bullshit.<br />As a prize for a lateral thinking quiz, <em>Malhar</em>, gave away a Jockey vest. Broo-ha-ha threatened to disqualify an entire team because an audience member from their college was smoking. Blitzkreig had an emerging actress as a judge for a <em>DANCE</em> event! The list goes on. The utter stupidity I have witnessed happen at festivals is something I have come to understand and enjoy, but Talaash '07 took things a bit too far.<br />The article says 15000 participants? There weren't even 1500! The article says, 'Four way football' was an exclusively designed event? Bull shit, it was created at Polaris two years ago!<br /><br />First, I will tackle the bizarre registration process. Each individual was charged Rs. 200 for participation in Talaash 07, regardless of how many events he/she was in. Furthermore, for a reason they failed to explain, they demanded the names, numbers and email addresses of EVERYONE in our course, <em>regardless </em>of whether or not they were even participating in the festival. Perhaps it had something to do with their <a href="http://www.talaash.in/sponsors2.php">sponsors</a>. Notice any companies that may find the phone numbers and email ids of thousands of college students useful?<br />Anyway, we'll get back to that in a bit.<br />In our category, the BMM cup, we registered a team of 8 participants. Miniscule compared to the 60 strong squads of Sydenham, etc. and quite aptly we were assigned the team name: <em>Spartans.</em><br />For 7 days we worked our asses off on some of the hardest events we've done. We paid for printing our daily newspaper and we paid for moving between south and east Mumbai. We did it all with barely any sleep and a smile on our faces. We had a good fucking time.<br />Eventually we won the BMM cup. Of 7 events, we placed 1st in 3 of them and 2nd in another 3 of them.<br />Till today I have not seen a single prize come through. All we have gotten is a lot of cut-calls, a lot of half excuses, a lot of 'talk to you laters' and lot of <em>bullshit. </em><br />We recieved a voucher for Rs 1000 at Spykar jeans, which conveniently expired <em>on the day</em> they gave us the card and seeing as we were given the damn thing at 5 in the evening it was a bit useless don't you think?<br />But perhaps the most telling and most frustrating snub was of the Ogilvy and Mathers internships we were promised. After a lot of stalling we were eventually handed a letter stating we were allowed to register at O and M, but there was a small glitch.<br />See, O and M were full for the summer by the time we'd gotten the letter. And it made no sense right? If the slots for the internship were given and our names were already registered as the PR team of Talaash repeatedly told us, then there shouldn't have been a problem right?<br />Unless. Unless, as the festival's head honcho would later confess, Jai Hind had some of it's own students taking internships there.<br />Now, we won prizes in 6 different places as I explained before. And we were asked to pay Rs 200 just for participation. So, logically shouldn't we be getting SOMETHING? Was a Rs 1000 voucher for jeans ALL they could muster up? I mean, if you go by their sponsor's article, 15000 participants took part, meaning each paid a minimum Rs. 200, which would only be added to the obvious funds and prizes their sponsors had given them. That makes up a lot of money don't you agree? Even if 15000 is a gross exaggeration, and a more modest number of say 400-500 participants is considered, there is still A L O T of money that went INTO Talaash. But not one prize that came out?<br />Odd don't you think?<br /><br />You know what, I AM biased, and I AM pissed off and I AM doing this out of sheer spite. But there is nothing but truth in this post. Jai Hind, has proved time and again that it is the scummiest institution there is in South Mumbai.<br />I'm not claiming Wilson's the purest institution there is either, I'm just sincerely hoping some student considering Jai Hind finds this blog and realises that with admission into the college comes a very large amount of scorn and a label that reads 'absolute dick'.<br /><br />That is all.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-21215934479444205532008-05-25T12:19:00.000-07:002008-05-25T12:50:49.617-07:00Awakeningello all<br />This is for anyone and everyone who still bothers to read this site. I've had consistently low hits and even lower comments and it resulted in a severe blow to my ego. I had a couple of my biggest confidence hits and lowest points in several years over the past few weeks and if not for a certain safety net, I would have deleted this here blog and stopped writing. Then I started a new blog on <a href="http://www.oleole.com/">www.oleole.com</a>, writing about Arsenal only. It's a massive community and I've been making a few friends commenting on other's blogs and being a general '3-4 comments in a row' nuisance because for some reason they have a 900 character limit.<br />However, the hits on THAT blog are still low and the comments are a grand total of two.<br />As if, the thread I was walking on wasn't thin enough, I then spoke to a man I admire immensely and as per his job, we discussed my academic performance.<br />Categorically, with evidence and clarity he tore down everything I have done for a year and made me realise I have a 'serious problem writing' and 'weak foundations'. Furthermore he pointed out to me how the only assignments I really enjoyed doing got me my lowest marks.<br /><br />Now, I do not have any memories of writing as a child. It never saved me. I have no diaries and no scrawls hidden away. Writing has never been a 'passion' for me and I only started amid a mixture of <a href="http://www.anishmalpani.blogspot.com/">badgering</a> and utter boredom. It was cathartic at most. I never had any real 'gift' and my family has never 'always known I'd write something great someday.' I started writing in the 12th grade and I did it because it was easy and my friends would comment and it felt a little nicer expressing than it did thinking.<br /><br />And yet, perhaps because of some special variant of the 'idiot' gene, I can't see any career for myself but writing. Football blogging, a niche so small and exploitative, its been deemed a digital sweatshop, is something I would love to do. The only real love, or appreciation or buzz I have for writing is rooted in a certain safety net I had mentioned earlier, and a few others I've encountered.<br />With the safety net, I've seen how the effect of a few written words is sometimes more effective than entire speeches. I've seen a living representation of one of my favorite movie quotes from Rent the musical- 'the need to express to communicate.'<br />With the others, with Arseblog, and certain apes and certain over analytical self destructive footballers, I have seen a raw, emotive, venting which is in many cases I've found the equivalent of a good cry.<br />The point is, there is a very raw, very primal expression in writing which has essentially shaped these people I've mentioned's lives. And it is that effect and that passion which I will confess I have introjected first and THEN started to love myself. However, it happened, whenever it happened, and because of whoever it happened, I am hooked.<br />And so today, with this disjointed rant, I announce, not the turning of a new leaf, but the cleaning and shaping of the same leaf so it looks a little better and hopefully gets a few more hits!<br />I wanted to start a new blog altogether and who knows, I just might, but for now, I am starting a new approach.<br />You will read some of the worst blogs you've ever encountered and you will probably never return to this site unless I trick you into it, but I am going to start writing more, and I am going to make myself as good as the people who've inspired me. I will remain raw and true to myself, but I am taking my self pity and cramming it some place dark until I no longer need to worry about it.<br />Thank you for reading this space, and I appreciate every hit I've gotten, but I've realised, the time has come for a change and so I hope to invoke it.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-9520076096221118672008-05-06T01:57:00.000-07:002008-05-06T03:24:13.319-07:00Even if you're foreign...ello all.<br />In psychology, it is inferred that in our heads there are tiny little frameworks and plans for everything we do or experience. These frameworks are called 'schemata.' So you have a schema for just about everything and when you find something new, you make a schema of it based on that experience. So, your schema of a black guy, may be a loud and obnoxious ruffian, and your schema of a funeral may be a quiet and sombre occasion of mourning. Needless to say, these schemas usually get drastically changed, because if you ever meet Sidney Poitier, or you ever go for an Irish wake, all expectations in the relevant schemas are pretty much null and void.<br /><br />However, the one schema that is the most resistant to change, is the schema you have of yourself. There's a little joke about a patient who was convinced he was a ghost. His shrink figured since the notion was so illogical, you could logically disprove it and hence cure the patient. So he asked the patient if ghosts bleed. The patient said no, ofcourse they don't. So the shrink takes a pin and pricks the patient's finger, thus making it bleed.<br />The patient is dumbfounded. He stands and screams and thanks the doctor profusely. "Thanks doc, I now know ghosts DO bleed!"<br />The point is, like the joke, we will change our schema of other things before we change our own opinions of ourselves. We will yell and scream and ignore and fight with people who say things against us. But very rarely, do we say, 'hmm, interesting, maybe I am an asshole for cheating on my wife.' And even when we do it's usually ages later, after we've used all our energy on justifying our own actions.<br />And in a disjointed sort of way, this made me understand the concept of love. The idea that people have written about for centuries and tried to understand for millenia. This grand and noble idea which Ewan Mcgregor described as 'a many splendourous thing.'<br />But I have now come to see, that love is something incredible only because of it's simplicity. It's power and effect is tremendous, but the action of loving, is so simple you'd probably miss it because it was too dull to be written about in a children's storybook.<br />I know a couple who are, atleast legally very close to me. The guy is an absolute fucker and I've hated him for years. He is self obsessed, isolates himself, orders the girl around and more often than not yells at her for no tangible reason. He talks down to her and generally mistreats the other people who are supposedly close to him. And like all true fuckers, he is completely oblivious to the fact.<br />He's been with this woman for 22 years now. More importantly, SHE's been with HIM for 22 years. He doesn't even make a lot of money.<br />Yet, she will always, with complete sincerity defend him. She will always, in a completely rational way find some way of justifying what he does and why it's ok. Most of the time she blames herself. In fact, I have seen her suppress her own genius in submitting to him, so often, that now, one of the most powerful minds I have ever encountered, cooks dal and does some 40 kakuro puzzles a day. She'll study and understand HIS work just to help him out, so she can channel her intellectual energy in some productive way. And until now it has always baffled me.<br />But then yesterday it struck me.<br />Love, is when your schema of the person you love is so close to your own, that you will defend it with the same ferocity that you would defend your own. Love, is when you create a collective schema. It's sort of like the schema a patriot has of his nation. Because it is so invariably linked to his own schema, he would fight and die for it. Because, I believe so strongly in the cause of Arsenal, I will pay more than I have to watch them play, even when there's a rational thought in my head saying, 'Bloody hell, he's got that cunt Eboue on the right wing again!'<br />I get a lot of shit from a lot of people about how the world is grey and not black or white, and it never fails to piss me off. People will say, 'Ah how can you expect loyalty in a world like this?' and it just strikes me as bizarre. Because, the way I see it, the more everyone gives up and submits to shit like that, the worse 'this world' is going to get. Fact is, I don't think these people love the values they claim to wish upheld, because they don't seem to defend them at all.<br /><br />Now I won't claim this is some groundbreaking idea, in fact I'm pretty certain it's an old one, but the fact is I've found myself defending a new collective schema one hell of a lot lately, and it's made me pretty fucking happy. And more than that, the couple I mentioned earlier don't baffle me anymore. Instead, I am left with a begrudged sense of understanding.<br /><br /><em>P.S. I do still hate that fucker and I REALLY hate Eboue. You see, some people just don't deserve love.<br /></em>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-62855276269223277192008-04-13T22:13:00.000-07:002008-04-13T23:39:40.135-07:00Prop an asshole!ello all,<br />So last night it ended. The dream is over and the whole season amounted, once again to nothing. Arsenal are out and if you read the press association's report it's because of 'Ronaldo's confidence' and Manchester United's battling spirit, and Owen Hargreaves' sublime free kick. Perception is essentially reality, and despite video evidence to the contrary, the PA usually get their way with the immense volume of their propoganda.<br />What gets left out is the mention of just how soft the penalty was- yet again, and ofcourse, how Anderson literally wrestled Adebayor to the ground at the other end in a brilliant place for a free kick, yet the whistle wasn't blown. Ofcourse when Gilberto's toe touches Evra and the entire home support at Old Trafford yell, the objective and entirely fair refereeing had no choice but to award the free kick.<br />Now before I go further, some would say, we probably wouldn't have taken advantage of the free kick on the right of the box, despite the fact that Robin Van Persie was fucking playing. They would even say the referee was fair, which is why Van Persie was booked for going in a second late on Wes Brown.<br />But pardon me, I would hate to oppose any England loyalists. And that really is what it comes down to isn't it?<br />An Englishmen scores against Arsenal. The irony is painful.<br />All through the Euro Qualifiers Arsene Wenger was the punching bag for a frustrated nation that watched, some of the world's most talented (and highly paid/ exorbitantly paid/ Over paid) individuals flounder and fail. Arsenal don't play enough English players. They are a corrupting influence and have driven all teams to use only foreigners and that is why players like Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard and the remaining squad of 22 in the England team team suffer. Because teams 'like Arsenal' have reduced chances for them.<br />For anyone who has played a football video game, it is blatantly obvious that on paper, and technically England have one of the strongest teams in the world. They're the team you play with when you're not so good and want a strong team to beat weaker teams! But no! Arsene Wenger is a blasphemous oaf who has ruined the system.<br />I mean, it must be his fault right?! Who else to blame!? Brian Barwick and his inept administration? No...!! Steve Mclaren's incompetence or Sven Goran Errikson's fearful tactics? No...! Lazy players who don't put in the same effort they do for their clubs? No...!<br />Really, this Wenger chap is quite the Scarlett Pimpernel. Coming in here producing players like David Bentley, Ashley Cole and Sol Campbell! That Bastard! How dare he nurture Tony Adams? How dare he use Thierry Henry and Francesc Fabregas instead of Wayne Rooney and Steven Gerrard?! I mean, come on for 112,000 pounds a weak who wouldn't want a 15-18 goals a season striker!?<br />The propoganda is endless. We've had four blatant refereeing decisions go against us in recent memory, and those are just the four we're 'allowed' to talk about without 'nitpicking.' We've had countless throughout the season. Wenger is a bad loser and he moans and groans when penalties that shouldn't be are given and those that should be aren't.<br />To quote Chris Rock, please cut the fucking shit! The team may have it's drawbacks, certainly Alex Song in central defence is nothing else, as is Emmanuel Eboue on the right wing, but for fuck's sake, what team can survive referees who allow players like Anderson to get away scot free, and decide that any touching in the penalty area is a foul?!<br />What team can survive a Middlesborough game where the offside rule is re-written?!<br />But most importantly what team can survive an entire fleet street agenda against it!? When we beat Derby, Soccernet says it's because they're crap. Acceptable. But when we trounce AC milan, the only 'expert opinion' peices ESPN have to offer are about the aging decline of AC milan.<br />I end with another quote. This time from the Absinthe fairy in Euro trip:<br />"Now that's some fucked up shit."<br />That is all.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37356706.post-39055874269326846192008-04-10T23:49:00.000-07:002008-04-11T00:23:55.462-07:00Gloves not included.ello all!<br />A minor celebration. This is post no. 20!<br />That's that.<br />I have recently moved to Calcutta. My Father has in typical fashion landed a job where he's being paid pittens but he's been given an exorbitant flat to live in. It really is quite stunning.<br />Anyway, I came here some 10 days ago and have been living here at 'home' with a friend of mine who might also fall under the tag of 'Hobo' which I picked up in my year at Wilson. We've both done our bit of moving and we've both done our bit of walking. As it stands, he has no legal identification and no forseeable, tangible future. What he does have is his plans, his guitar, and his bag filled with wrappers and a notebook. His 'situation' is as some might see it, essentially hopeless. Yet in seeing him get his shit together and grabbing his life by the balls, and growing and learning as much as he can, it struck me just what it is to be a hobo.<br />It's something I'd imagine we all have when we need it, but that doesn't make it any less amazing. It's the reason he can move from a comic book to a musical seamlessly. It's, as he put it in a post of his own, the ability to get up after falling in crud in some random street in Dubai and to keep walking. I've met some extraordinary people thus far and the list would be far too long for one blog so I shall stick to my purpose.<br />This is by no means a tribute post, but I would like to express something about the two people closest to me. We'll call them K1 and K2.<br />K1 has suffered a blow larger than any blow, we agree, he has ever suffered. It has already and will continue to change his life. We all create futures for ourselves in our head. Sort of an imaginary railroad for our trains to choo choo over. But sometimes that railway line gets yanked out of place and it becomes something entirely different. As it stands K1 has lost his initial track. He's pretty much running on mud and tar right now. His hoboness, though, is the fact that he is still moving, though slowly and a little carefully, and he's putting together some more tracks made from fucking twigs and hair and shit, and riding on it. His hoboness is that he like my room mate is getting his shit together and taking life by the balls again.<br />K2, who is I must confess the real purpose behind this blog, has suffered many blows. They seem soft on their own but accumulated they've smashed the shit out of the railway line. They've pushed and shoved the train onto different tracks and back. They've even just hit the train out of pure spite and dented the front. K2 would to most look like an absolute wreck. But for some reason, beyond hoboness and anything I can understand, K2 is still going on. Still chugging away, still riding those very battered wheels to the ground until the track starts to show up again. K2's hoboness is beyond me. It is amazing.<br />This post is a mix of awe, respect and hope for K1 and K2, and indeed my roommate too. But more than anything it's a hope that they will chug on, because from here in this useles, helpless, position where all I can do is cheer, I feel like I do every time I'm at a bar cheering Arsenal on. the season's derailed entirely but the red and white is just so beautiful you have to keep on yelling.<br />This is to hoboness.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1