Allyteration

Just an effort to share links, videos, things that I find and love, my writings, and generally, the stuff that make me wonder, smile, and think. Not necessarily in that order. Because Mommy said the internet is awesome. And sharing is awesome-er. Yeah she did! :D

[allyteration-blog]

On Parents.

I am of my mother, in my worries, melodramatic reactions & strong headedness. I am my father’s daughter in my lack of will and my unibrow. I give like my mother, I smile like my father. I hug freely and love unabashedly because my father never held himself back in his affection. I am clean of heart because that’s my mother.   My father, the gentleman. My mother the eager learner. Left of brain, right-brained, thoughts, ticks, conscience, conscious. My wit, sarcasm, insecurities, my balance and my being. I am from my parents. I AM them. The terribly wonderful realisation.

[allyteration-blog]

Sole to Soul

Breathless, out of focus, One step, the other. Forward and onward. I breathe.

Dawn breaks, I struggle, Sweat beads and salt patches, The lead that becomes my feet, I breathe.

Existential angst, tasks undone, Meandering mindfulness, Curves and puddles, I breathe.

Rhythms and patterns, Surreal merging into the orange horizon, Sights, smells, sounds unheard, I breathe.

Focus, clarity, thoughts of you. Out of body, out of breath. Life, death, music and other realities.  I smile, I breathe. On repeat. 

[allyteration-blog]

“Always have(ing) something to look forward to.” - The Ottist

Comic by: B Kliban

The golden hue the night lamp douses the room in, makes it seem a lot more intimate.

This hue is the enema that lets up the mental constipation that will give way to some loose, lazy tripe about life and realisations.

However, when Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee is added to the setting, I would assume ‘matter’ would behave differently.

In my honest opinion, Julia Dreyfus rushing through her supposedly informal meeting with Jerry Seinfeld in a 600 square(ish) pixel box hung on the macbook screen are essential ingredients instrumental in putting up a good fight to boredom on quiet, slow, dimly lit nights forcing you to sound romantic.

As one begins to guffaw all on point, (IT’S ELAINE GODDAMIT, HOW CAN YOU NOT, YOU SIMPLETON!), she assaults all my senses in one go with this pregnant line:

“You’ve always gotta have something to look forward to at all times”

Now this, right here, triggers a massive panic attack.

WHAT’S ON MY LIST? WHAT’S ON MY LIST? I BETTER HAVE SOMETHING ON MY LIST!!!! WHAT’S ON MY FUCKING LIST, GODDAMIT?? IT BETTER BE SOMETHING REALLY WORTH LOOKING FORWARD TO!!!!

In the midst of dealing with sweaty palms and self-slaps urging me to keep it together, I spot from the corner of my eye, Larry David, writhing, rather impatiently on that playlist. I begin to ‘keep it together’ and gasp, somewhat with relief, to know that there is ‘something’ on my list after all. But then I get all wrangled up on this massive burden of a decision waiting to be made. It now breathes down heavily on me, this deciding to watch a conversation of two extremely hilarious men, about things that won’t make a change to my immediate future, if it actually counts as being ‘really worth it’!

My other option is an empty electronic screen with a blinking cursor, the equivalent of the toilet paper that will wipe after my verbal diarrhoea after days of being backed up in the brain, and end up in a poor boy’s inbox passing off as emotional, whimsical, indulgent writing or better yet, on a blog where all of 14 people (if I count my sister and my mum) visit usually on coercion. 

The struggle in choosing to spew undigested bits of my 12 am thoughts over Larry David on Coffee with Jerry is now becoming excruciatingly painful to the point of being hilarious. For some reason, also greatly satisfying! With great responsibility, comes great power, after all! Am actually asking Larry to hold the line!  Wait a minute, did my fingers just do that? *inserting delayed response on account of confusion, one sentence too late*. Did I just type ‘Coffee with Jerry’??? Did my criminal fingers just so blasphemously allude the genius, rare masterpiece of a conversation between the comic heavy weights to a pathetic attempt at an Indian talk show I won’t ever be paid enough to watch. Yes, yes my fingers did. This fake power is really taking over me.

While I am being such an out of control teenager, let me also fix myself some strong coffee, sandwich and gobble it voraciously in my fake empire. Mmmmm. I do like keeping things classy! 

As for you Larry, come on! After all these years, you’ve gotta learn to be more patient! I’ll slot you for Tuesday night now. I promise! :D

[allyteration-blog]

Why I bring myself to be a hamster on a wheel 4 times a week.

Sometimes when I run, I feel restless. I feel annoyed. I feel stupid. Clumsy even. People who are awake at 5:30 in the morning must either be good at what they do... Run that is, or they're still drunk. But not me.

I run because the endorphins after this near death experience that I subject myself to 4 times a week are real. I run because I hear a faint blare on the seaside, of familiar, pleasant but indecipherable music that is not a hallucination. I run because I see puppies obediently stretching to the tempo of the crashing waves. I run because I notice the graffiti strewn around the walls and see signs in them. I run because I have the obsessive urge each time to reach out for my pen and document all this surrealism that surrounds me. I run because I am eager to fill my pockets up with this sense of wonderment in the ordinary that doesn't come easily otherwise. I run because it's overwhelming. I run because I can.

[allyteration-blog]

Of nights that belong to the universe.

I whine often. About  goals that remain unachieved, the pounds that stubbornly remain to cushion my insides (a little too well indeed!), the people who forgot, those that moved on. The what ifs, could’ves, should haves keep me company at night.

And then there are some nights, where my restless mind wanders: hopefully, dreamily. Life plans seem obviously achievable, closer. There’s love, peace and unicorns. The chocolate frosting on vanilla cupcakes kind of nights.

But every once in a while, there’s balance. A life that’s slow and fast, steady and turbulent. There’s music in the background.

On such nights, I feel thankful for the universe. Its abundance. And its handpicked people bringing that abundance to me.

Photo Credit: Joshua Karthik

[aaronbleyaert]

HOW TO LOSE WEIGHT IN 4 EASY STEPS

I’ve spent the past year losing 80 lbs and getting in shape. A lot of people have been asking me how I did it; specifics like what diet I was on, how many times a week I worked out, etc etc. So I thought I’d just answer everyone’s questions by giving you guys step by step instructions on how you can achieve everything I have… IN JUST 4 EASY STEPS! Ready? Here we go!!!

1.) NO BEER This is a big one, and one that you’ve probably heard before. Every time you drink a beer, it’s like eating seven slices of bread. That’s a lot of bread!

2.) PORTION CONTROL This is especially true when you go out to eat at restaurants. A good trick to do is when your meal comes, cut it in half and right away ask for a takeout container, so that you can save the rest for later - and even better, if you start your meal out right by ordering lean meats and veggies, you’ll slim down in no time!

3.) HAVE YOUR HEART BROKEN And not just broken; shattered. Into itsy bitsy tiny little pieces, by a girl who never loved you and never will. Join the gym at your work. Start going to the gym regularly, and even though you don’t know that much about exercise and you’re way too weak to do pretty much anything but lift 5 lb weights and use the elliptical machines with the old people, do it until your sweat makes a puddle on the floor. Then go home and go to bed early and the next day do it again. And then again. And then again.

Listen to stories of your ex-girlfriend fucking around with gross and terrible people, stories from your friends who think they are doing you a favor. Go to the gym and make more puddles of sweat. Buy books. Learn about different muscle groups and how they work together. Start eating healthy. Learn about nutrition. Plan out your week of meals. Try to forget her.

Read More

[allyteration-blog]

Moving homes

In my childhood, safe was home.

Quiet, comforting, constant.

Where I was fearless,

And belonged.

Now it remains the same too.

Only that it's moved, home.

It now rests in my heart

As a feeling, in memories,

Of my beloved & family. 

[allyteration-blog]

Nishachar.... the creatures of the night

 Photo Credit: Joshua Karthik

There's something comforting, albeit haunting, about the quiet of the night. The night that lets you focus, the one that lets you be. To live, to save. Save the pieces of your life, maybe. The night. It lets you see things that hide behind sunlight. It helps you to hear them. To remove the chaff of jobs, lives, pretences. To bear the naked beauty of thoughts. It lets you talk. If you're willing to listen. Nights have many wonderful stories. You only have to look carefully. 

Nightshift. Look at this! I saw these people, and I wanted you to see them, too.

[allyteration-blog]

WILD GEESE by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

[allyteration-blog]

The magic of words

I love stories that are told well. I sometimes cry, overwhelmed by the pictures that words in books draw in my mind. I smile at Calvin's innocent philosophy, lazily turning the pages of the same book in bed for the 208th time. I have loved spending many adolescent afternoons laughing out loud, lost in wrinkle paged PG Wodehouses I found in my grandfather's attic, or re-reading yellowed old Readers' Digests. I love song lyrics that remind me of people, places, the past. 

I like to hide behind words like a shy, awestruck child, who smiles from behind the curtains at the visiting guest who reaches out his candy filled arms in friendship towards her. The child who refuses to make eye contact, but also refuses to look any other way.   

Words are beautiful. Language is even more fascinating. The translation of thoughts wriggling in one's mind, being formed into something meaningful. To be able to tell a lover, about love itself,  to string together a poem, an eulogy if you must. Or even an anger ridden note that you write in writhing haste to the customer care back end, unable to understand why your laptop is being disobedient. 

If it weren't for words, we wouldn't have gone to the moon and back. Science, philosophy, history, Aristotle, Newton, now and forever, as we know it and as our future generations, civilizations would know us, this life, and theirs. All that is now and that will be, is because we have been blessed with the gift of words, language and the ability to express our thoughts. That, to me, is just wonderful. 

[allyteration-blog]

The tale of the raw mangoes

Salt laden memories flowed down her cheeks, relieving her of the burden of nostalgia and grief. It came in rushes. The flashes of the broken toothed smiles, of the grime filled sweaty afternoons. Those that were spent stealing raw mangoes, and dodging his frustrated screams. His wrinkles would tell them many stories, if only their impatient childhoods would listen. Of far away travels, of the riches he found in their backyard, maybe even ghosts and ghouls or the magic tree that bore glow worms and the pixies that it sheltered.  His untold stories had given strength to his screams. After all, he had spent much of the last month, fleshing the plots and twists and turns in them, in anticipation of this summer vacation. How could they choose sour mangoes over his treasure trove of tales? 

She smiled recalling the thrill of those yellow, sunny afternoon chases; a battle between his childlike tantrums vying for their attention and their naughty tricks vying for his. Her 28 year self sighed, a shes met her 8 year old self, that came bearing the sad news. Khan Chacha, the talented cameo of her childhood dramas, the man with the baritone, the heart of gold, the keeper forever, of his now, never-to-be-told stories.   

[allyteration-blog]

Soul food musings.

The National is a band, I recently discovered, and like many other times, I want to kick myself for discovering them so late, a whole 14 years after they came into being. 

But like most things in life, this, now, makes a lot of sense, and I may not have appreciated this music, had I been introduced to it at any other time. 

I am obsessive about music, it helps me think things through, feel things, make decisions. That makes me extremely grateful for talent such as this band, for giving me a means of expression, and a reason worthy enough to make the effort to write on the blog before hitting the bed.

Promise to self: Will watch The National, live before my 35th birthday. :)

Probably, wrong place to have this below mentioned link here, however, this made me smile, this hateful rant about the band. Enjoyable read nonetheless, even though I hate him for hating them. And for using big words, and finding meaning and critically analyzing what Is just 'nice to hear' music. It is probably for the best, that I don't mentally masturbate on things, and dig into the 'semiotics', the whys and the wherefores of good* music and lyrics. 

http://www.slate.com/articles/arts/music_box/2013/05/the_national_s_trouble_will_find_me_reviewed_too_many_crescendos.2.html

*good= not generalizing, but what I FEEL is good. Don't shoot me for it! :P

[allyteration-blog]

That feeling when you want to think, you want to wonder, you want to feel bad, but then you also want to pick up the pieces, and feel the itch. To do something. Anything. To do more. To do better. To dream and to simply do. THAT.

http://mashable.com/2014/03/31/raul-oaida-inventing-inspiration/

[allyteration-blog]

Therapy.

I cleared some clutter last evening

Some redundant memories tha were taking away precious space, physically and in mind. Some of those made me smile and some a little melancholy, but all from a place that I no longer belonged to. Memories, the happy as well the unhappy ones, are the burden that experience has to carry upon its shoulder. If not held well, experience tends to crumble under it. I feel free now. I feel at peace. And most importantly, I feel happy. And for that I am thankful. 

PS: Paper bag by Fiona Apple is an amazing song. I discovered in my adolescence, a couple of years after it was released. And about 13 years hence, I still like to listen to it. Music, the gift that keeps on giving. :)

[allyteration-blog]

This is a blindingly ordinary piece of work

There is something giddily exciting about discovering gems across the internet that reek of brilliance like the linked video, and that which make you stumble, in turn, upon a treasure trove of more brilliance and wit. Read McSweeney's, and be inspired to write, or not. Whatever rocks your boat. :D 

H/T:

<http://www.adweek.com/adfreak/everything-you-hate-about-advertising-one-fake-video-thats-almost-too-real-156525

[allyteration-blog]

"Today you were far away and I didn't ask you why What could I say I was far away You just walked away and I just watched you What could I say   How close am I to losing you   Tonight you just close your eyes and I just watch you slip away   How close am I to losing you  

Hey, are you awake Yeah I'm right here Well can I ask you about today   How close am I to losing you."

[allyteration-blog]

It's how we live, it's simple as that

To have the will to live, and the spirit to match that,

To strive for quality, in life and living.

That's all we need.