Monthly Archives: November 2023

Home

“What is home, father?”

“Have you been listening to those transmissions again, sweetheart?”

“There’s nothing much else to do. You are busy doing things. With everyone else. I can’t be a part of that.”

“All you have to do is be patient. And wait. You’ll soon wish you didn’t become what you will.”

“But what does it mean? Home?”

“Well, your uncle, along with his troop, has been studying their language for quite a few epochs now. They still haven’t found an answer to it. They say it’s a concept that doesn’t exist with social species like us.”

“What’s a social species?”

“Species that exist, co-exist, and thrive with individuals from the same species without the need or want of any pre-established bonding or relationship, basically. Some species exhibit what is referred to as pseudo-social behavior. It is when on superficial examination, it appears as if the species is social, but the individuals themselves prefer solitude in one way or the other.”

…

“So what does that have to with home?”

“Well, sweetheart, pseudo-social species seem to harbor this concept. In fact, they seem to need this concept to survive.”

“How do you know this if you haven’t encountered any in all these years?”

“That’s the life goal of people like your uncle. They study things they know and postulate about things they don’t. Besides, there have been some species that we have encountered in our side of the galaxy who also suspect such an aberration.”

“So what you’re saying is that home is difficult for us to understand because social species don’t perceive the need for it.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Father, I eventually want to know what the term roads mean too. West Virginia seems to be a location in their star system.”

An evening

A woman with her golden retriever was in the elevator. She was scared—not the dog but the woman. She was cowering. worried that the person who stepped into the elevator would be afraid of the dog. How ironic.

I tried to calm her. I told her that it’s fine. You can let dog do what she wants. I asked her which floor she was from. She told me 13th. She asked me where I am from. She obviously had not noticed where I had stepped into the elevator on. I said sixth.

I asked if the dog was a golden retriever, intending to confirm that it’s not a cross between a labrador and a golden retriever. She confirmed.

Th I told her several years ago I used to walk golden retriever in the locality of my older apartment. She was smiling at me. I wondered how she look if she were angry. Only people who smile with their heart would have deeper anger, I thought.

Then she asked me if I had a dog. I said, “no I have a cat, but I love dogs. Actually all animals. all animals other than people.” Her smile was wider.

By then, we had reached the bottom of the building b, and there were people waiting to get inside and they did cower in fear of the dog. Only in India, I tell you

But the dog leapt out, followed by her master, dragging her master behind. She had her on a leash. I smiled at them—the dog didn’t seem to sense—and I walked past them on my way to the park.

On my way. I saw a man in his 50s, sitting on the tall footsteps leading to a shop, staring blankly across the road at me. At least, I thought he was staring at me. I do think people stare at me. I do think people find me funny looking, or should I say ugly? That last sentiment is straight out of the book that I’m reading it is called Sexographies by Gabriella Wiener.

A few minutes later, as I found my favourite bench and I opened my Kindle and started reading. I noticed the familiar silhouette of the boy, twirling and twisting in front of me, trying to get my attention, eventually settling a few feet away from me on the walkway playing with the twigs. I had my new old phone to configure and Philip K Dick’s Radio Free Albemuth to follow.

Asimov let me down

How quickly can people fall from grace? A few chapters of a memoir or autobiography, apparently.

Isaac Asimov has only taken six chapters. He’s brazen about his intellect, story-telling, and overall virtuosity. A chapter of the book It’s Been A Good Life is titled Prodigy FFS.

It’s Been A Good Life – Image Courtesy https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/b/b1/Good_life_cover.jpg

I can only wonder aloud to Janet (Jeppson Asimov), the editor of the book: Isaac must have been insufferable!

Now that I remember, his annotations on the Susan Calvin stories in The Complete Robot did suggest that he was a bit sexist. Now it all makes total sense.

The Complete Robot – Image Courtesy https://isfdb.org/cgi-bin/pl.cgi?37454

Yet, I’ll continue to respect him for the masterful sci-fi he’s responsible for. I’ll even continue to be friends with people who like Asimov. Hell, I’m trying to like myself, aren’t I?

PS: I despise Foundation, the TV show.

Four Points

  1. One thing I know is that I can’t do all the things that I want to do. The other thing that I know is that I want to do a lot of things. In there is a constraint and a desire. The desire is overwhelming. The constraint is overpoweringly real. In the middle is me in a state of perpetual disappointment.
  2. Blu likes dosas. It’s weird. But she does. She also likes chapatis. Try to reconcile that. Maybe with the information that she loves killing and eating bats and sparrows. My mother would have been proud of her. For liking dosas.
  3. Every three months or so, a couple of gardeners come to my apartment. They take care of all the plants, which are mostly on the balconies. They leave the apartment feeling more plush and alive. I’m thankful for the plants, and I’m thankful for them.
  4. Today, I rehearsed with my guitars and mics (not too loud, mind you) when they were around. I felt less shy (and more confident) of not making a fool out of myself. It is up for debate whether they found this weird. What it did help with is to keep Blu calm while she’s in a kennel waiting for the gardeners to finish with the soil work. Otherwise, the floor of the apartment will become a paw print mess.

Back

It’s been a while. I wrote a song.

I have been doing well in general, but I haven’t been doing well in working on my songwriting and music production.

Dave Grohl might have helped.

I finished his COVID memoir titled The Storyteller earlier today. I have mixed feelings about it. Dave is too nice and his narrative was a bit cookie-cutter. I can sum the book up in Dave’s voice:

“OMG I can’t fucking believe that I’m incredibly fortunate enough to have done/have this.”

But that doesn’t mean that the book had an insignificant impact. Dave is amazing. Scream, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Queens of The Stone Age, and Them Crooked Vultures are all amazing.

Dave’s passion for following his instincts and dreams, his genuine love towards music and music making, his music-scholarly nature, and his relationships with people who loved him. All of this is amazing. Except for the last bit, I think Dave and I are similar to each other.

My friend R definitely did help.

She was over earlier this evening. I fumbled through many songs and hit some songs right. She gave me feedback. She motivates me. She has been here to listen to my works for the last decade. She is now kind enough to spare time to listen to my renditions and give me feedback.

PS: I actually wanted to write: “OMG I’m fucking back”, but I would have sounded too much like Dave Grohl, which I’m definitely not.

PPS: I think I will call the song Tame My Mind.

Image Courtesy: https://thenerddaily.com/review-the-storyteller-tales-of-life-and-music-by-dave-grohl/

Near Drowning

I almost drowned today.

It was at the swimming pool. I had been practicing bicycling at the shallow end of the pool after doing a few laps across the breadth of the pool. It was almost the end of the time allocated to our batch. One of my two instructors asked me to get to the deep end.

I did. I had a floater tied to my waist. I did a lap. I was waiting for the instructor to ask me to come for bicycling training, but instead he asked me to do laps. On my way across, I lost my shape and breath and I almost drowned.

It was embarrassing, both for me and my instructor. For my instructor because he thought I could be left dissatisfied. I have been comfortably doing laps across the breadth for a few weeks now. I guess I’m still not breathing well and my breathing technique is still not up to scratch.

I have always had a fear for water. I suppose I am scared of drowning. I used to freeze at seeing still water. Big rivers are the worst. It’s almost like bodies are water are plotting against you.

Feb 13, 2011

Rob stood there looking at the swarm of youth on the dance floor. It was a party that he had invited himself to after hearing from a local friend who had taken a rain check, something his travel mate Andy had not warmed up to. It was not the first time he was in the city that had renamed itself Mumbai, but this was different.

This was exciting. He never knew about a subculture like this in a country that had chosen to stay Victorian in social values a century after they had been outdated. He thought that was interesting considering that his adopted nation has chosen to move forward in this manner despite being part of the Commonwealth.

“Are you visiting or do you live here?”

He heard the words clearly but couldn’t make out the source. From his left and to his back emerged a figure. The first thing that caught Rob’s attention was the hair, which was wavy and a couple of inches over shoulder height. The eyes were inviting too, with a hint of a smile beyond the prodigious smile that the man’s lips were trying not to hide.

Rob realized that he hadn’t responded.

“I’m here on vacation. Nice to meet you.”

Rob introduced himself. The man introduced himself as Kris, although Rob knew that there was more to the name than that. He seemed to be in his late 20s, was taller than the average crowd, and had long sinewy fingers.

“What’s your drink?” asked Kris.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m a teetotaler.”

“A what?”

“I mean to say that I don’t enjoy alcoholic drinks.”

“Oh, that’s a first in my life.”

“You seem to be running out of yours. Shall I get you one?”

“Thanks, but I’m about to leave anyway. I was finding it boring. I’m not into dance or partying. I am here alone and I couldn’t find anyone to have a conversation with. Well, until I met you.”

“That’s a shame; I had just arrived. Why don’t you stay some more time.”

“Well, I’d have loved to, but I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s a Sunday. What sort of job makes you work an early morning on a Sunday.”

“Well, I have a rehearsal. Sunday morning routine. With my band.”

“Ah, I see.”

After a momentary pause, the young man asked him.

“Would you like to meet tomorrow evening? It’s Valentine’s Day and I don’t have a date.”

“That would be lovely.” Rob didn’t realize that he had said it until after saying it.

“So let’s exchange numbers. I’ll text you on my way out and hopefully, we’ll meet tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Nice to meet you, Kris”

“Pleasures is mine, Rob. See ya tomorrow”

They hugged without meaning to be aggressive. As Kris was about to pull away, they caught each other in the eye. Rob pulled Kris back toward him and planted a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Safe travels. See you tomorrow!”