The meta-post

The past few days, a couple of the fellow co-conspirator(s) (as one of our dear blogger friend prefers to call ourselves) had detailed their hardships in christening their entries. Fair. Even I have had had my share of title travails. Like for example whilst I tried to figure out a name for today’s post. I have a wide array of stuff to write about, albeit personal. And I was left to wonder as to how to sum it all up. I didn’t have to think too hard to come up with, what some might call an ‘intelligent’ title. [Pause, with a gracious bow to raptures of clapping from the audience comprising of 5 people.]. Thank you, thank you ladies and more… uhh… ladies!

I guess I’ve been rambling about sleeping troubles (references 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6). I’ve been ranting about solving those, at least to myself (in my head), for at least the last couple of days. Today I did it. Yesterday, I forced myself to fall asleep reading a book. That seemed to be the unanimous choice of experts from all corners of the globe to the clinical phenomenon of disorder of falling into sleep. If you are not aware, most of the medications prescribed by shrinks and pharmacists for sleep, are actually to let us fall asleep rather than to make us sleep more. [Funda 1 of the day] This funda will be highlighted in a tangential drift vide infra.

I spent about 2 hours reading Alan Hollinghurst’s ‘The Line of Beauty’. It’s a charming book mainly because of the fantastic adjectives and phrases which are only used in formal parlance in the high English society. So I had my Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary beside me constantly providing me spasms of unusable knowledge. I distinctly remember four instances when I was in the process of getting into the first stages of NREM sleep [Funda 2 of the day: Sleep is composed of stages which are divided to NREM and REM sleep] when sounds of squeaking and scrambling through my kitchen-stuff, which the classical music that I was playing was unable to drown, awakened me. I was frustrated. I wished if I could go to a supermarket and get those unhuman-fequency-noise-emitting-devices (reference)to ward off these silly weird creatures. Finally at around 6 ‘O Clock in the morning, I fell asleep.

I woke up to brisk knocking on the door at around 9 ‘O Clock. Warily, I got up from bed and opened the door. My jaw dropped when I saw that it was my landlord and his wife visiting their cute little apartment, after a period of 3 months of recluse in Dubai. Thankfully, the apartment was not too shabby (at least for a straight guy). Even though there weren’t any places to seat them, I invited them to sit on the longish cushion that I had made out of one half of the mattress which lay by the window in the living room. They refused. Instead they walked in and checked out the teeny-weeny studio apartment, which was my abode. I guess they were impressed at the levels of cleanliness and order (at least for a bachelor).

Soon the conversation shifted to what plumbing/carpentry/electrical work that I had done at the apartment. He had agreed to settle the expenses when we would meet. I was still delirious because of the relative hyposomnia and could not recollect the exact amount that I had ended up spending. The golden chance to procure some money in the darkest monetary phase of my life was slipping away. They were about to leave.

Then, something incredible happened. The landlord’s wife, an intelligent looking lady, walked to the little ‘table’ made out of the biggest carton that I had and began checking out my book collection. A rich sprinkling of the best of fiction from the recent years including the likes of Rushdie, Hosseini, Desai, Lahiri must have been the causes of redemption (despite the presence of Rand, Robbins [Harold!] and Crichton and Marvel comics). The conversation went on when I explained them that the collection is not only mine, but also my friend’s (Noise Market’s singer Jodi also reads a lot). I offered the coffee which was against dealt with a firm ‘no’.

By then the conversation had eased out and I think I was also woken up. I managed to convince them that I needed some money and I would appreciate if they gave me some money for the work that I had done. We rounded up to a nice sum which will be deducted from the actual amount at a later date and that was scribbled in a cheque and handed over to me. It was like my Christmas present without the Santa, reindeers, the cute sexy Santa-helper-dwarves and of course, Christmas!

It was such a relief that I forgot to pee in the morning. Okay, okay… I made this up entirely for recreational purposes. I’m a creative writer and I require that kind of space and freedom!

So, I was happy and relieved and felt like the little pieces of my life were falling into place again. After a brief roundup of news and my internet-footprint over a cup of black coffee, I was amused to observe that the effects of my good-fortune seemed to have crossed Sethusamundaram as I watched ‘See-wag’ and ‘Gam-bhier’ paste the ‘M’ duo around the Galle cricket ground. [Funda 3 of the day: This cricket stadium was a close witness and victim of the 2004 Tsunami as this ground lies next to the Indian Ocean.] The weather, too, was looking much better with the sun belting down on Mumbai. Without wasting my opportunity, I finished the boring chore of washing my clothes, put them on hangers to dry at the living room window. After a shower, I was ready to take on the world.

I spent the afternoon at the studio with the band. It was very entertaining with the conversation ranging from concepts for our first music video to bollywood gossip about the Khans and the Kaifs. We did all this chatter at a room beside the main control room where our dear audio engineer and his intern were mixing the songs. I’m proudly pleased to announce that it’s shaping up good!

As the evening started making out with the night, I cantered out of the studio feeling gleeful about the entire schema of my life. I felt that this money that I had just procured had unleashed me from my poverty, which had taken its toll on my lifestyle. I had actually stopped buying foodstuff like milk, vegetables and bread and had restricted myself to a diet with just rice soup and instant noodles with the occasional ordering-out from a cheap restaurant. Sauntering into the Reliance Fresh outlet with a guitar strapped to my shoulders and with an I *heart* NY T-shirt, I must have looked like a hippie rock star.

I indulged in some serious shopping ranging from groceries to shampoos to garbage bags. I think I must have had that glint in the eye of someone who just had sex or something because I saw a lot people staring at me. I don’t think that I deserved any further attention that normal despite the trimming and styling of my entire cranial hair that I had just got at a cheap saloon nearby. I even managed to get a seriously hot 32 and ¾ th-ish guy looking at me!

The walk back to the apartment was even more comic-o-bnoxious [in search of a better adjective here. Even Vinokur couldn’t help me out.] Add about 7 shopping bags to my otherwise rock-star look and you will coin some neologism yourself! I made it past all the reproachful stares in my apartment building where people make comments to each other about people like me in Tamil without even thinking of the fact that I might, just might, understand what they are talking about. The nerve!

Back home, it was time to spend a peaceful, satisfying, family evening with my husband/wife over Skype. You know, for those who don’t understand long-distance-relationships, it’s fun! We have coffee, meals with each other. We spend time with the other in the kitchen helping each other with our recipes etc. We spend time discussing art, books, music with each other. All of this thanks to Skype.

Today, Vinokur was not feeling great. He’s having sleeping problems yet again and to my dismay he has tried the tried-and-detested method of adjusting the sleeping medication according to his own judgement. I was unhappy and didn’t lose time in making my thoughts clear. Thereby, I again bring to light, the ‘Funda 1 of the day’. The sleeping medication that he’s taking is losing it’s potency to make him fall asleep. It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out that by taking more of this drug will not affect the process of falling asleep in a person but will succeed in giving the adverse effect of excessive, prolonged sedation.

[Funda 4 of the Day] So kids, don’t try this at home. Don’t titrate your psycho-pharmaceutical drug without consulting your shrink.

And thus I come to the end of this post. I have a lot more stuff to write about and ask you people. I’ll put them as addendum.

1. Do they have something like SnapShots (in WordPress) in Blogger?
2. Does anybody watch cricket these days?
3. Is anybody interested in music-related posts; say the review of an album or an artist?
4. Am I too long-drawn and boring?
5. Like flygye, should I list the characters on my blog so that readers could understand better?
6. I’m thinking of a blog-post-chain where I want to sort of celebrate the amazing, thought-provoking Indian blog content that I have come across lately. Something like a mini-review appraisal of the blogs that I frequently read. Someone interested in doing that?

(PS: I think it’s too long. Hardly any comments. Ergo, I’m ordering the last list. I’ll also make it easier for people to comment by making a default template for comments. Here goes.)

Default Comment Template

• About the rant:

1. Snapshots:
2. Cricket:
3. Posts about music:
4. Long?
5. List of characters:
6. Posts on other bloggers:

Da Saz – Jet Lag

During the blitz of social networking that I went through last week or so, I stumbled on MySpace pages of some labels (Counter Culture, and DemonStealer) of India’s budding Indie music industry. Very cool stuff. All have started websites, and as you can expect some aren’t exactly functional (Only Much Louder , Counter Culture, DemonStealer). But still it was a sign of life in the Indie music industry in India.

I, like my self-centred paranoidal mind, started searching for my record label’s (Phat Phish Records) footprint on the social networking spectrum. Curiously enough, I couldn’t find anything. Of course, they have a fantastic website which is a treat to the eye. But still, nothing on MySpace, Orkut or Facebook.

I decided to inform my manager about this little anomaly. I did that yesterday night before going to sleep. Voila, I got a reply today morning. Yes, the reply acknowledged the fact that they need to start their own pages. But the interesting fact is that our manager got very defensive of the label explaining that they can’t be compared to other labels and stuff. And the reason stated, as if I needed another kick in the nuts to get me going, and I quote ‘We actually signed you guys.’ If I were to picturize this in a sit-com situation in a real conversation with my manager, the camera would have zoomed out of my dorky face and focussed on the manager who would have had an expression of disbelief/irony/dismay!

Okay okay. I understand that they have been generous to support us. And I’m thankful of that. And that’s the reason why I’m posting this wonderful video that our music label has made for the artist Da Saz. This, I feel, is one of the best music videos that I have seen to have come out of India. Just the kind of stuff that I reckon is cool. I must also not take any credit away from the music.

And I confess, I’m proud to be associated with our record label.

PS: My band mates and friends think that I, and only I would do such a thing, should not encourage other competitive bands and records and all that shit. I mean, how naive and self-centred is that huh? What do y’all think?

PS2: If this post comes posted more than once, blame it on YouTube. I tried posting it from there where I first saw the video. But then, it didn’t come up.

Unbelievable chat transcript

I was being a nice boy, reading my big chunky Orthopaedic books listening to cultured music (Jazz and Classical; this is my way of getting back at my life and my academic career [read sloggging] which denied me any exposure to the ‘so-called’ high-culture until now) on my satellite radio when I heard my phone buzz. I was curious to see a message from the Yahoo SMS service. For clarity sakes, I keep myself on 24/7 on my Spidey Yahoo ID so that Vinokur can get to me in case of any problems with the computers/power/internet etc.

gothamsexyboy24: do you like to suck mine?

Before I could react

gothamsexyboy24: [ding]

I replied

krisbass: No way! And stop bothering me from henceforth!

gothamsexyboy24: Ok

What do people think when they see my profiles on Orkut/MySpace/Facebook posts on my blog or GayBombay? That I am a sucking machine? Give me a break will ya? I mean, he’s just 24!

Shame-even-lesser

Advisory: This post might result in abnormal, violent reactions from all kinds of bloggers who might want to drive their artsy daggers down my back.

Those of you, three of you the last time I counted, who read my blog regularly, might have been happy after reading my last blog entry. Finally a dull, boring medico student had the epiphany of his/her life. That he/she was a loser in missing out on all the good things in life thanks to the drudgery of slogging in medical school and where not. Not just that, I had just resolved to correct this faulty evolutionary path taken by my mind with my lover Vinokur, who had knowledge about all the good things in life.

I took it up yesterday night. Vinokur was tired after another pointless visit to one of the doctors in NYC. Yet, he was anxious to imbibe into me something that he loved and cherished. We started it with a brief lecture (over Skype video for those who just lost themselves in this trans-oceanic communication weirdness) explaining how cave art evolved into stuff like Impressionism and Cubism. I listened to the lecture with multiple, somewhat stupid queries, which definitely interrupted the flow I guess.

He explained to me how the evolution of the painting schools was affected by the development of Photography. As he put it so clearly ‘Romanticism was an attempt to fool the eye and photography beat it by a fair margin. Thereby, it led to other artists trying to capture ‘what they felt’ on canvas.’ It sounded scholarly and good. But I was still confused.

I asked him ‘Why would an artist want to impose his/her feelings on any scene when the viewer would want to make his own judgement/feeling about that, lets say, with either a photograph or a romanticist painting?’

That I think denoted the point when the lecture became a pain for him. He tried with jest to show me examples of art, with the gracious help of Google image thumbnails, ranging from Rembrandt and Eugene Delacroix to Van Gogh and Picasso to Salvador Dali and Frida Khalo. But in vain.

I loved the work of Rembrandt and Delcaroix and it made sense to me. Even the surrealist stuff looked something like fantasy. But the impressionist and cubist stuff – simply went over my head. For me they seemed under-worked. And I asked him the question (prepare yourself for an hour of shuddering, puking and depression) ‘I think that Picasso looks like an amateur art… something that even a kid could do with a set of crayons. Explain to me why it isn’t?’

That sort of capped the unfortunate evening for my lover. He resigned in despair saying ‘Look Kris, I’m afraid I’m not going to be ‘with’ you on your voyage to discover and understand the history of art. I can’t stand an intelligent, observant person like you opining and ridiculing art which have been acknowledged by the world over after looking at Google thumbnails for 4 seconds! I have been studying them for centuries and I think you are judging them far too early.’

The analogy that he tried failed me. ‘Imagine a virgin classical music enthusiast listens to a grunge song by Nirvana. Wouldn’t that person think that what he or she is hearing noise?’ My counter argument was that ‘Look, I introduced to a band Seether a few months back and you were able to appreciate the music which was going on. That was despite you liking Jazz and Classical music more than anything else. In my case I love Romanticism. But still I can’t even relate to stuff like Cubsim. I mean, I don’t even see the rectilinear shapes on the Picasso’s self-portrait!’

The discussion, from there, went to becoming even more depressing for both of us. I suddenly realized that my ‘education’ had ruined me. I wasn’t exposed to stuff that I should have been exposed to when I should have been exposed to. I’m already fucking 28 years old and I have no hope of understanding such art. I don’t know anything about literature, architecture and painting. For somebody buried neck down in music, I hardly knew anything about music other than what Seattle Grunge has offered to the music scene.

I felt bad. I felt really bad. It felt like my life just died on me. And I don’t know how to start mending.

Shameful

These days, my nights have been getting later and later. Every night, I would say ‘good afternoon’ to Vinokur early (around 2 AM or so) and try and go to sleep. But somehow or the other, the wretched routine of sleeping late and getting up even later has caught on to me. I need to break this and I don’t know how.

Theoretically, for the last few days, I’ve been spending the entire day at home because of the weather. Well, excepting the visits to the movies/plays etc. But then, that too doesn’t amount upto a lot of physical activity. And why do I need physical acitivity? Because I believe that I might fall asleep easier if I’m tired. Fair, I would say.

What did I do today to try and break my habit? Well, after I got up around 11 in the morning, I cleaned up the apartment. I did other chores like washing the sink and stuff. I washed some clothes and exchanged them with those who had already dried. Social networking and engrossing blog-reading captured my in-between time. And after a brief period of ‘study’, it was time for me to head downtown to see a gig!

It felt good to be back to being at gigs; either playing or watching. This time it was one of India’s premier English language rock bands – Junkyard Groove, all the way from Chennai. For those unaware, Junkyard Groove has opened up for international acts like Iron Maiden, Slipknot etc. and they have a very fresh sound, courtesy their MySpace page. A couple of articles on TOI and Mumbai Mirror had erased any doubts as to whether I wanted to watch them gig or not.

So, I set out on my journey to the Hard Rock Cafe in Lower Parel. I was carrying my mp3 player (for those who don’t know the fact: I don’t dig iPods. Instead I dig the Creative Zen series of mp3 players and I own a Zen Micro), A Line of Beauty and my umbrella. Starting with the bus ride to the station, I was listening to the wailing of Alanis Morisette reading how the protagonist in the novel was charming an artful elderly gentleman with his knowledge of English literature, art and furniture. To For clarity and better understanding of the sequence of events, some of you might have to remember that I was ‘soaking in shame’ due to my lack of knowledge about anything interesting (read Art, History, Literature etc.) after reading and commenting on a few blogs that I came across this afternoon.

At the queue for tickets at Andheri Station, I was already reading articles about Impressionism and Cubism on Wikipedia on my PDA phone. Nothing should be draped in dampening adjectives here; I felt ignominous! I felt as if my entire life had gone waste. I didn’t know tit from tat when it came to fields I had mentioned above. In the train ride, I was reading more of Wikipedia than the novel. And by the time I reached the Cafe, I was totally drowned in self-loathing. So much so that I spent the entire evening by myself, not even bothering to chat up with some of the familiar faces in the crowd.

At one point, I was feeling so miserable that I changed my source of reading from Wikipedia to NYT Science section. I felt more at home reading why glass isn’t actually as solid but more like a liquid and why Santa can have his icy drink on the rock this year as well. For those who got confused, please go read the Science section of NYT. It’s brilliant!

The actual concert was just an okay experience. There were big problems with the mixing of the sound and the fake accent of the singer from the band. Besides, I think I’ve lost the thrill of watching other bands play as I myself have been doing that regularly in the last few months. You know, that aura of a big stage and performance, something that I could not even hope a year back, has gone!

The only good thing that came out of all this is that I realized that I could acquire knowledge while living the kinky/fantasy of seducing the professor who would teach me. I meant, Vinokur! He’s an expert in all such fields and he loves teaching. Fellas, it’s a win-win situation!

The Vagina Monologues

When I bought the ticket for the famous play ‘The Vagina Monologues‘ at Fame ADLABS a day before, I was thinking that I was sort of exaggerating my feelings towards it. This play which caught my attention about a couple of years or so back was something that I had wanted to see. My friends (straight ones) from the hospital saw it when it had first opened and thought of it as a fantastic play. That had made me jealous because I was the kind of person who would have seen such a play first and urged them to see it.

Today, as the skies leaked drearily for the fourth day in consecution, I found myself walking to a nearby multiplex for the third time in 5 days. For a broke person, this is luxury. I was wary about whom would come to see it. My fears came true when a bunch of bad smelling, straight office-going men (in their 30s) who had lame jokes and bad topics to talk about boarded the elevator with me. Suddenly, my ‘212 Sexy Men’ perfume seemed inadequate and I was left feeling queasy. I was a bit relieved to see a lot of beautiful young women as well as other women at the screen entrance.

I had a seat at the front row and being poor finally seemed to make sense. Soon, five wonderful women, all very talented actors, came out in splendid attires of red and black, sat on high bar stools to lead us through an hour of wonderfully entertaining drama! I don’t know their names and stuff. But everyone was charming. The eldest (looking) actress had this Vodafone helpline accent which, because of Vinokur, I have started to dislike. Whatever accents they chose to speak in seemed perfect for the narration. Otherwise, the tales of female happiness, pleasure, agony, excitement told through the ‘mouths of vaginas’ (Aargh, give me some Ipecac!; I’m just kidding) were simply a treat to the audience.

After the show, I waited in line behind a dozen of young women to write a comment on the book which was meant for the same. The one thing that came back to my mind to as I was collecting my thoughts to write on the book was this; The young woman sitting next to me (during the play), posh mini-skirt, high heels and all, was probably the only one amongst about 100 in the audience who hadn’t raised her hand when one of the narrators asked us ‘Who doesn’t have a problem with saying the word ‘vagina?’ How ironic!

And here’s what I wrote…

For a man who has had a lot of experiences with vaginas, but none in the sexual way, I was a bit skeptical about your play. It was simply a wonderful experience even for a gay man like me. After seeing your play, I feel that I understand the meaning of words ‘liberation’ and ‘independence’ better. Keep up the good work!

Dreams from a weirdo mind/brain – part 1

It must have been about six months back when Vinokur suggested that I record my dreams. It provides an insight into what’s going on inside the weirdo mind that I seem to have. Well, if not that, it should be interesting reading. I did not end up recording them. What I did though was to try and recreate the entire dream when I was with Vinokur. It was extremely interesting for us to do this. Some excerpts are posted below.

Thirst in the Desert

“I heard a cry. She must have been in extreme pain. I opened my eyes and looked around. My head was aching. Sand dunes were everywhere. I tried to get up but I failed. I remembered the thugs attacking us and taking us under their control. I don’t even remember what happened afterwards. What had happened to my sister and mother? It was hurting all over. Must have been the blows that they had given me. I tried to wriggle around from my position for a better vision. I saw my mother tied to a big metallic post in the middle of the desert. She was bruised, her clothes torn. She seemed to have been raped. ‘Give me some water… please’ cried my mother. I was ashamed of myself. I had failed yet again. I couldn’t save my mother from the enemies. Neither could I quench her thirst when in need. Why am I to live?”

This is probably my oldest dream. I used to have this dream in various versions when I had high fever. Since my mother and my sister were the only two persons who used to take care of me when I was sick, they are the only characters in this. I don’t know about the setting of the desert. I haven’t yet been to one and I don’t think that I have desert-o-phobia. I think the connection is the thirst that accompanies a bout of high fever.

This dream clearly underlines my childhood feeling of ineptitude and worthlessness. As curious as always, my Dad is not there in the dream. My sister is also someone who hardly ever makes it in any of my dreams. But she’s here in here.

Shortcut to Happiness

I don’t know why I’m so interested in watching Hollywood flicks based in New York. People might have views on alleging that on my love to Vinokur who, by the way; I’m proud to admit this, is a New Yorker. It might also be that I’m in Mumbai which is almost like New York. I have attributed it also to the fact that almost all of the sitcoms, TV shows and superheroes have a predilection for the Big Apple. Whatever it is, I was lured into another movie viewing experience at a multiplex nearby while it was pouring.

The reason this time was nothing special. Just three three-fourths handsome men (Did you ever notice that the last two letters of ‘handsome’ are the first two letters of ‘men’? Thank you ladies and gentlemen! Actually, all this previous silly comment did it was to leave me feeling like the author of ‘Blogging for dummies’ or ‘Romance with English for Dummies’ or the male ‘Oprah Winfrey!) Ah yes, Monsieur Anthony Hopkins (who steals 3 points) and Alec Baldwin (takes the measly three-fourths) were there in this movie based in New York.

The rest of the cast is really immaterial for a twisted brain like mine. But the story is. Screenplay is. Direction is. And the bottom line is that all of it sucked. Not big time, but it still did. Just the fact that the Big Apple and the portrayal of the posh lifestyle of a ‘successful’ writer added some substance to the movie watching experience can’t take anything from the truth: Anthony Hopkins is red hot. Well, maybe a little overweight. But otherwise, just perfect. Wealth, honor, stature, wisdom, knowledge, mastery of language, humor, power, charm and all the other 3534 qualities that I usually find in an older man; everything encapsulated in a that brilliant man/character. I confess: I would do anything to get him into bed with me. Well anything but my soul really, cuz I can’t love Vinokur without it!

Oh by the way, the movie gets just 2 and half stars from me. 1.5 stars go to Sir Anthony!

Funniest ICL video ever

If you were wondering…

• How I got money for the Kung Fu Panda movie…?: S got some money from his office. He returned me about 5% of the money that he owes me. That meant that I was able to pay the electricity bill and save up for about 20 more meals. I used up money for 2 meals during the movie.
• What’s happening to my studies…?: Nothing really. I don’t have money to renew the Railway first class pass and I’m too lazy to travel in second class to the hospital library. Besides, I’ve been ‘social networking’. On that note, I must tell you one epochal event. I have come out on Facebook, MySpace and Orkut in the past couple of days! Congrats to me!
• What’s happening to my band/recording…?: We have finished the recording bit. Now, mixing is going on. We have made the record label guys listen to the stuff and they love it. We are already drawing plans for narrowing down the singles and video concepts etc. The only thing is left to start gigging and let the money flow in!