Call of the Aether.

Today, Sunday the 27th is a good day...All good days like good movies start of with a bumpy ride and ends well..As much as critics and Esoterics love their niche movies that suck ass (like Adoor Gopalakrishnan) theres nothing like a good ending...Thats why you must set up your death as much as you set up your life...

Now amongst the ppl who have died in my life...
the most common kinds of death are...

1)Heart Attack..
The ending is usually...Your immediate family surrounds you in the party, at home or at some shopping mall...and you feel intense pain with your wife screaming all over the place and children crying and poof your gone...

If you survive..
The ending is usually....In the hospital surrounded by more family + much more friends...theres that annoying machine that keeps beeping...and ppl whispering "serious",
"very serious","critical","done for" etc...and suddenly you hear the dial tone...and everyone starts wailing...you inevitably pass away

2)Car accident
The End is truly horrible...You are either driving or worse some asshole is driving...and one mother of a truck/bus decides to make sandwich outta you...Death is usually caused by firemen/policemen trying to pry you out
of the tinned meat can that was your car...

3)Genetic Illness.
The End is....kinda sadistic...You die slowly...but visibly...over a period of years you are just eaten away at...but the slow pace of it makes it more bearable than car accident...and everyone is nice to you coz you are dying...

4)Cancer...
The end is...worse than capital punishment...
Radiation, chemotherapy,loss of hair and what not...theres something very disgusting about cancer...Reminds me of what Agent Smith said to Neo...

You(Human Beings)move to an area...and you multiply...until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to..spread to another area. There is another organism on this planet that follows the same pattern. Do you know what it is? A virus. Humans beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet...and we...are the cure.

As in Aesthetically..theres something to cancer and Human progress...and it hits the most innocent ppl and humbles them and everyone around them...a true tragedy...and when the end comes...all you can do is leave the theater and be happy about your own life...

5)Old age...
The End is...upto you..this actually the ONLY way to die...but it can be bad...some ppl die puking and die painfully in your old age...which sucks ass...but my favorite is to die in your sleep...nothing like it...where your death is basically you going to sleep forever...aaaah...no hospital...no irritating relatives face....your just dreaming and poof..your gone...

Sunday the 11th and I am hale and hearty. My leg wounds have healed. My shoulder pain is gone. My head ache is subsiding and I have also shampooed my hair.Tomorrow is a big day for me.Its the beginning of no mind Vs too many mind.


I was just tripping on the fact that the vagina kinda looks like a flower. Seriously it reminds me of flowers . Like if you were to look at a Vagina not upto much activity its like a closed bud but when activated it actually blooms or opens up. And it has layers just like the winding petals of a rose. It blooms every 28 days. All this has led me to believe that the female evolution has in some way come through plants .



The Scissor is a great Invention. It serves its purpose well, cutting its way through paper, cloth, metal, sheets, skin and fat. Now even if Nasa were to spend Billions of dollars on Scissor research to develop the most "advanced" scissor with GPRS, infrared and titanium edges most of us would still be happy with easily available ordinary scissor. I am using the scissor as a metaphor here. I am not against innovation but I think its very cocky on the part of the first world to call themselves Developed. I dont mind India being called Developing country but how can you affirm yourself to be DEVELOPED?? who decides the roofline?? India is still in pretty bad shape I agree but I think we need to learn from the scissor. The internet is a good idea to develop in India but is hardly a scissor. Its a user friendly library at best to a villager- not the opening door to riches to a poverty stricken village.
A lotta things are hitting their rooflines. The Microwave, the fridge, the washing machine, the fossil fuel driven car. Now I m not saying that these tools are DEVELOPED or they dont need innovation, but there is a self sufficiency to them now that we dont see in mobiles yet. These tools are one with their purpose (which is a good thing).Mobiles still have some way to go. Does that mean the Mobile industry is developing? Bad language I would say. I would rather admit to one industry as happening and the other as achieving it purpose. India is happening in some fields and so is the US in other fields(not Hollywood) and then China in some boring fields.All of us looking for the elusive Oneness with our purpose. Just like the Scissor.



Hollywood is dying. You can see it. The symptoms of old age are
1)seeing weak little grandchildren running around while the old giant sleeps.
2)The teenager who tranquilised the grandpa making out openly in the house.
3)When the grandpa wakes everyone hides.

The rising conservatism has brought about distaste to most liberal and controversial topics (fodder to good storylines).Antiamericanism has unnerved hollywood. Divisions in the country itself has fragmented perspective. If the Terminator blows up a building with innocent ppl in it , isnt it/he a terrorist ??America at one time could actually sell the fact that it had no history, no religion and no face. There is a kinda purity in the fact that it could have been the magnet to the best of the best of anything in the world. The Worlds best Playground. For the World,Of the World and by the World.

Then theres Patriotism.

I had a dream last night. A most beautiful one - visually stunning. I havent dreamt one so moving in a long time. Let me try to explain.
My Dad was taking us to the beach(not Really-In My Dream). We were in the car and I was looking out through the Window. The Beach was to my right and we were driving along. It was cold and the whole atmosphere had this blue effect. The sky couldnt be seen because of the clouds or smoke and the sand was white with a slight tinge of blue.What commanded the scene was this eruption of thick blue Smoke billowing from the sea half way to the horizon (like a Blue Volcano). I got onto the sand and there were these basic spartan type structures built on the sand for some purpose. And on the sandy shores itself there were these streams or rivulets of pure blue liquid. I ran into one and I felt soft blue Snow below my feet. The Ice was sublimating into blue cloudlike vapour which was what I thought was the Smoke. The clouds were chilly and then standing on the rivulet I looked out onto the sea watching the ice on the sea spewing tons of blue cloud into the sky...phew...it was awesome (and I think the switched on AC was the cause of this Creation).

Ok...I didnt write this story but I think its brilliant.

Fernando Sorrentino
Translated by Gustavo Artiles and Alex Patterson


An Enlightening Book
Ludwig Boitus: Stelzvögel, Gottingen, 1972

In his brief prologue to Stelzvögel, professor Franz Klamm explains that Dr. Ludwig Boitus travelled from Gottingen to Huayllén-Naquén with the sole purpose of studying in situ the assimilative attraction of the long-legged bird popularly known as calegüinas (this name has almost unanimous acceptance in the specialist literature in Spanish and it will be used here). Stelzvögel fills an acute gap in our knowledge of the subject. Before Dr. Boitus' exhaustive investigations -- the presentation of which takes up almost a third of the volume -- little was known for certain about calegüinas. In fact, except for fragmentary qualitative studies by Bulovic, Balbón, Laurencena and others -- works plagued by whimsical, unsubstantiated claims -- before Stelzvögel, the scientific community lacked a reliable basis on which to base further research. In his work, Dr. Boitus starts from the -- perhaps debatable -- premise that calegüinas' main character trait is its very strong personality (using the term personality in the sense established by Fox and his school). This personality is so potent that simply being in the presence of a calegüinas is enough to induce strongly calegüinas-like behaviour in other animals.
The calegüinas are found exclusively in the Huayllén-Naquén lagoon. There, they flourish -- some estimates put the population as high as one million -- helped both by local by-laws, which make hunting them illegal, and by the fact that their flesh is inedible and their feathers have no industrial use. In common with other long-legged birds, they feed on fish, Batrachia and the larvæ of mosquitos and other insects. Although they posses well-developed wings, they rarely fly, and when they do, they never go beyond the limits of the lagoon. They are of a similar size to storks, though their beaks are slightly larger and they do not migrate. Their back and wings are a blueish-black; their head, chest and belly, a yellowish-white. Their legs are pale yellow. Their habitat, the Huayllén-Naquén lagoon, is shallow but wide. Since there are no bridges across it -- in spite of many representations to that end -- the locals are obliged to make a long detour in order to get to the opposite side. This has had the effect of making complaints to the local newspaper almost continuous but communication between the shores of the lagoon rather scarce. To the uninformed observer it would appear that residents could cross the lagoon quickly and easily by using stilts and even without them, at its deepest point, the water would barely reach the waist of a man of average height. However, the locals know -- although perhaps in a intuitive way only -- the assimilative power of the calegüinas, and the fact is that they prefer not to attempt the crossing, choosing instead -- as already stated -- to go around the lagoon, which is encircled by an excellent asphalt road.

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All this has not stopped the hiring of stilts to tourists becoming the single most important part of the Huayllén-Naquén economy, a circumstance that is perhaps justifiable in view of the scarcity of basic resources in the region. The absence of serious competition and the lack of official pricing has made the hiring of stilts a very costly business indeed; inflating prices to outrageous levels is the only way tradesmen can recoup their inevitable losses. In fact, there is a rather limited Huayllén-Naquén by-law stipulating that shops hiring stilts should display a sign, positioned in open view and written in bold lettering, warning that the use of stilts may lead to fairly serious psychological alterations. As a rule, tourists tend not to heed these warnings and, for the most part, treat them as a joke. It should be noted that it is simply not possible to make sure that the notices are read by every single tourist even when, as is undeniably the case, the shopkeepers comply with the by-law punctiliously and place the signs in highly conspicuous places. The authorities are notoriously inflexible on this point. It is true that inspections are not very frequent and are always preceded by a warning sent a few minutes beforehand -- but the inspectors are known to perform their duties conscientiously and it can only be coincidence that there is no recorded case of a shopkeeper being sanctioned under the by-law.
Once in possession of their stilts, the tourists, either by themselves or in cheerful, chattering groups of two, three, five or ten go into the Huayllén-Naquén lagoon with the aim of reaching the opposite shore where they can buy, at very reasonable prices, tins of exquisite fish -- a product that provides the main source of income for the population on that side of the lagoon. For the first two or three hundred metres, the tourists advance happily; laughing, shouting, playing practical jokes and frightening the calegüinas, which, like all long-legged birds, are extremely nervous creatures. Gradually, as they penetrate deeper and deeper into the lagoon, the tourists become more subdued while, meter-by-meter, the density of calegüinas increases. Soon the birds are so numerous that progress becomes extremely difficult for the tourists. The calegüinas no longer run or fly away nervously -- as their numbers rise, they appear to grow in confidence, although their behaviour could also be explained by the fact that, by then, most movement is physically impossible. Whatever the reason, there comes a moment when shouting is no longer enough and it becomes necessary to use sticks and hands to shoo the calegüinas out of the way. Even then they concede very little ground. This is generally the moment when the tourists fall silent and the joking and laughing comes to an end. Then -- and only then -- they notice a dense humming emanating from the throats of the thousands of calegüinas, filling the entire lagoon. In its timbre, this humming is not very different from that of doves -- it is, however, considerably more intense. It enters the ears of the tourists and resonates inside their heads, it fills their minds so completely that, gradually, they too begin to hum. To start with, this humming is a poor imitation of the birds, but soon it becomes impossible to distinguish between the humming of the humans and that of the calegüinas. At this point, the tourists often start to experience a choking sensation, they can detect nothing but calegüinas for as far as the eye can see and soon loose the ability to differentiate between land and the water of the lagoon. In front and behind, left and right they see an endlessly repeating, monotonous desert of black and white made up of wings, beaks and feathers. There is usually one tourist -- especially if there is a large group of them on the lagoon -- who perceives the wisdom and convenience of returning to Huayllén-Naquén and sacrificing their prospective purchase of exquisite fish at very reasonable prices from the opposite shore.

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But where is the opposite shore? How can they go back if they have lost all notion of the direction they came from? How can they go back if there are no longer any points of reference, if everything is black and white, an endlessly repeating landscape of wings, beaks and feathers? And eyes: two million blinking, expressionless eyes. In spite of all the evidence that returning is no longer an option, the tourist who is most lucid -- or rather, least delirious -- addresses his companions with some pathetic exhortation: 'Friends, let us go back the way we came!' But his companions cannot understand his strident croaks, so different are they from the gentle humming they are now accustomed to. At this point, even though they themselves answer with the same unintelligible croaks, deep down they are still conscious of the fact that they are human. Fear, however, has unhinged them and they all begin to croak simultaneously. Unfortunately, this chorus of croaks has no meaningful content and, even if they wanted to, the tourists would be unable to communicate their final coherent thought: that they are all calegüinas. It is then that the elders of the calegüinas community, who up to this point have kept knowingly silent, begin to croak with all their might. It is a triumphant croak, a cry of victory that starts from that inner circle and spreads quickly and tumultuously through the length and breadth of the Huayllén-Naquén lagoon and beyond its limits to the remotest houses of the nearby town. The locals put their fingers in their ears and smile. Happily, the noise lasts barely five minutes, and only after it has completely stopped do the tradesmen get back to making as many pairs of stilts as tourists have entered the lagoon.

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