Dirty Dozen: Favourites

The coral atoll, The Thin Red Line
~Hans Zimmer

A Kaleidoscope of Mathematics, A Beautiful Mind
~James Horner

Overture, Lawrence of Arabia
~Maurice Jarre

Cinema Paradiso Main theme, Cinema Paradiso
~Ennio Morricone

Lux aeterna, Requiem for a dream
~Clint Mansell

Citizen Kane theme,(Of the Cinema Century Album), Citizen Kane
~Bernard Hermann

Now we are free , Gladiator
~Hans Zimmer & Klaus Badel

Out of Africa Main Theme , Out of Africa
~John Barry

The Bourne Identity , The Bourne Identity
~John Powell

Jules et Jim Main theme Vacances, Jules et Jim
~Bateman

Schindlers list main theme , Schindlers list
~John Williams

Comptine d'une Autre été : L'après-midi Amelie
~Yann tiersen


Burnt a CD for a gift in this very particular order; may be I should write about em sometime. Perfect emotional journey.

On Poems:

The all postmodern saxon-poem of all England, Ireland and Wales.


A poem?
Yes.

So Did Leopold bloom actually write a poem?
Negative.

No?
Well yes, sort of with a mongrel accent.

Hence?
He was politely banished from the commonwealth.
Seahorses and eons they worship. Tatewanderers all.



Why do you want a poem? All poems are
Banana republics. Take one here. The aspect of
Window shopping and its limitations
Heart mind, right breast if you like, art of lost memory?
Can a bliss too? Love and longing.
Lost, not the series brother.
Drop a hint, pick
up a clue.
Legends, myths, folklores, if you have a long tongue
Acts of rituals, alienated tumours. Some conventions here and
there, white wine
While you wander. No? Rhymes, metres and
other such medieval bollocks.
Boundaries, feedreads,
territories and these days, somethings they call
identities, Me you. Reader, conscience all
the possible
imageries in the pregnant platonic universe ; pain and
painkillers . Family
and finally post
modern faith.

On Geeks vs.Nerds and Perverted tube maps

In simple terms Internet could be defined as a large congregation of people .
Who have no name , assume identities and have a bit of fun time in their lives. Or Think so.
People on the internet for all practical purposes can be easily classified as bad and good. And both of them are presumed to be ugly unless proved otherwise.

Now the bad people are the nerds who generally want to get your money or your time or your girlfriend or far worse your attention . So they flickr, blog, wiki or dickey whatever, in any case, the sole motive is their insatiable greed for self appreciation in the otherwise meaningless universe that only yawns at their existence.

Among the good people are the geeks who understand the needs of the general public and get on to do the needful. This post is to celebrate the spirit of that benevolent geekiness. Here are the few mentionables.

Thanks to the Sticky geek for making the virtual life almost to feel like real life.

And big thanks to Pai Mei ,who made black Japan beta 2.0 for Firefox mozilla 2.0 and saved many a fastidious lives like mine. I was so depressed that they didnt have my eternal favourite Black Japan compatible with Firefoz 2.0


~ A quick note about the header art---

It is a pop art by Simon Patterson, called The Great Bear after the constellation. It is a modification of the classical London tube map where in the station names are changed to important personalities or stars in the history of humanity. The different tube lines represent different disciplines. So if you want to reach Nietzsche from Bogart you know you have to take a southbound actors line (corporate black) from Mornington crescent to Moorgate. The poster hangs majestically at the Tate.
You can find more about it here.

There was a similar music map released by guardian last year.
I remember the first time I came across this, I almost wept cursing Patterson for stealing my inchoate idea that i was working on for years. See,this is what happens if you are born a bit late, You end up missing all the fun and have nothing to be proud of except a post-modern faith stamped with a wifi, both of which in grand scheme of things amount to nothing better than a smoked up cigar.

C'est Moi

Been catching up with the deci--lists of the different authors from the book mentioned in my last post. If you want me to explain the whole experience in two words-- not surprised , in one word-- predictable . However, the popularity of some choices baffled me.
Take for instance, Madame Bovary, which is a decent book but perhaps slightly overrated. I understand the theme is delicate or more so in the times in which it was written . The craft is surely commendable but to put that in the top ten books of all time is bit ludicrous. Also, lets not forget it was written over a period of seven years?
God!! you could have had unimaginable number of affairs in that time! Or if we had granted Mr Joyce so much time, he would come up with one more grand chronicle of humanity so the world could have been conveniently divided into AJ - BJ After Joyce , Before Joyce.

On other things-- I must admit I am a huge huge fan of T-mobile marketing team. I reckon they have a few geniuses working for them. Just look at their adverts for the last three campaigns. Superlative. Remember the wonderful U-fix adverts? The chaps have this uncanny knack of digging the best music tracks to fit their adverts to perfection. Like the Nouvelle Vague melody I melt with you for the U-Fix. Now they have chosen a wonderful Arthur Russell tune to go in with their latest street-talk adverts.
I wouldnt mind to buy a drink to whoever came up with that one.


Caught up with Eisenstein's Strike and Its a very similar to the pleasure of revisiting an ancient wisdom lost in childhood.
The montage and narration are fastcut and unique, even when compared to his later movies. Dont you think the first borns have a special charm ?
Right from the first shot he takes direct charge of your attention and carries on without any dip throughout. Just Like a director ought to. And, did I forget to mention that he is blessed with an innate sense of music that is so rare amongst directors these days. Okay, may be except Tarantino.
As soon as we were done watching the movie, I spent good few minutes imagining how Eisenstein would have explained his visual epiphanies to the team or the editor. Oh, what a task!
And the exercise suffuses me with high anticipation of what my own thoughts might find, very much like how it is when-Banville asks us to imagine Locke pacing about after reading Newton's letter or when Ondaatje asks us to imagine Kipling's pen moving over the paper.
What is the damn word,? Yes, Magnifique!

Cheers

Bookbites

The Ten great books:

It was elle who told me about it first. Subsequently, a lot of discussion has been generated around the choices and reading habits following the release of this book last week. Had a quick peek through and its amazing how you and your favourite authors almost have related taste in books if not matching.

Although I am not into quantifying , I am definitely into lists. So spent a few minutes of considered thinking to choose my deci-list. And the cream is almost the same of that Irish wag John Banville. And, ain’t I pleased about it?



So here’s Banville's:

Ill Seen, Ill Said
Notes from the underground
Ulysses
Doctor Faustus
Moby-Dick
Lolita
Austerlitz
Dirty Snow
Gulliver's Travels
Vanity Fair

And here’s mine:

Ulysses
Notes from the underground
Moby Dick
Invisible Cities
Lolita
Great Gatsby
The Trial
Magic Mountain
On the road
And I always find it hard to pick between English Patient and Catch 22.


If you have nothing better to do for now, go make yours.

Ahoy!

It is half past five in the morning and the day is wine dark with leathery smells of damp winters. Just wanted to report back as promised. Its been quite enriching.
Heres a crop from travel note:

February trickles in slowly with  promises of sunlight here and there, glimpses of azurer skies and longer sunsets. I remember once sitting in a train on a summer evening  some whereabouts Yorkshire opposite a lovely lady who had no clue how lovely she was. She sat engrossed reading a book, her deep auburn locks drifting across her ivory forehead. Her eyes  wistful and pear like, intently following the lineage of words. Her lips curved  in a silent smile. The long orange hands of the dusk sun, capacious and bright, travelled all across the pewter clouds,  past the woods, past the yellowing grass and streams of quavering water, through the sealed glass onto her face, making her soft nose gleam like an yellow pearl. 
In that moment she was just perfect.

She was just there, alone and oblivious of the whole universe, so subtle and sublime. With neither future nor past.
A Ding an sich.
My heart , swallowed a sea. Like a  moment of  eternity consummated in a frame festooned against the constancy of life, she looked unbearably beautiful.
She was, in that minute an  Edward Hopper painting alive. 


PS- Thanking all the enquiring voices.


And may have to dip into great sea again,

Oh grey sweet mother, snotgreen sea, scrotumtightening sea, the mother of all great consciousnesses, holder of truths and secrets, stand me in good stead.


So long,