Pain Perception...

To N,

You believe
your
pain is
the deepest
of all the pains

I believe
my pain is
never
anywhere deep
than
other many pains

That
truly
is
my pain.

Today's sundown...

Say cheese...scientifically perfect sundown at 8 pm , Northwest englland.

i pod therefore i am...

In the ears of my days
is a thunder of accomplished rivers
-e e cummings

Here we go- for the last few days all conversations seem to somehow inadvertently drift into music- from old friends to total strangers the endless ocean of a topic of music is coming up more oftener than ever again. The last one being with a cab driver who was playing his favourite CD instead of the usual fm radio. Having gone through all these talk, and not finished yet, I thought It would make sense to draw a list to reflect on my present cross-section of musical conscience for future reference.
But, as I said charting a favourite music list is like counting how many thank-yous are said in Great Britain in a minute, so I have purposefully stuck to so called main stream chartmusic, excluding other personal favourite genres like classical ,experimental and film based et al. Again, in the list I have chosen only what I call, feel based music, subject to whatever they evoked in me- memories and feelings totally ignoring music or lyrics. Although my initial list was of 25, we shall stick to traditional thirteen shall we? Ah! just look how we are growing old!

1.Something in the way Nirvana If not the best Nirvana song , the song which conveys so much feeling in a few lines. Though quite repetitive, not an inch of bore or monotony . If I remember it right, he wrote it for his first love, when he was twelve. Makes a heart swell and linger in a perpetual promise. Saudade.

2.The end The Doors I believe every man has a song to epitomise his youth. And this was mine. The enviable vocals of the Jim Morrison and underrated skills of Manzarek‘s digits makes it such a special experience. It evokes intense personal memories, meanings, loves and kisses. Popularly marked as a war song, I think a wilder and passionate love song is yet to be written . One real cleansing of perceptual portals!

3.Old man Neil Young- Have you ever walked into a place and heard a song and immediately knew it was a song you knew all along but are hearing for the first time then?
Beautifully balanced song, the best Neil young song for me, speaks for the early twenties feeling ie the struggles to transform from college to ground reality so perfectly, reminds me of all the wise wisdom heaped on by age from dad to other mentors who treated me like a man when I wasn’t one yet. I shall never forget this song, even if I’m dementing.

4.Love will tear us apart Joy Division- This song is the symbol of that unique Joy Division rhythm , I can sit and listen to it endlessly, it has that vague sense of loss and pain of love, masterly lyrics along with the sound adds an distinct aura, which often makes it apt as a background score in movies esp. in between conversations.

5. I remember Damien Hirst - Marvellous song to come out on a debut especially the characteristic change of the tempo; very passionate yet easy on the ears; perfect song - a haunting tune about ? an one night stand or a fleeting fall in love, better than any James blunt any day. Yes , Paper mache!

6.Things have changed Bob Dylan- Well any Dylan song is supreme, I don’t think we, the tax paying blogging, flickering post-modern masses had a real poet since Dylan and this song proves it with its special fragmented lyrics and the wistful sense of disconnectedness. I reckon this song is like a whiskey which gets better as you grow old.

7. In the manner of speaking Nouvelle Vague My idea of perfect romantic song, lovely voice, I heard it first in a party and chased it up, now am a huge fan following every move ardently, very mystical melody, reminds me of certain N's ivory shoulders.

8. Heard it through the grapevine Marvin Gaye- The pain is never been so melodiously captured in a song form before, well conceived and composed, if you haven’t listened it before you got to. Marvin Oh dear.

9.Dear catastrophe waitress brand Belle and Sebastian- Very ethereal and vivid lyrics, I try to imagine different cafes and coffee bars when I listen to this, and conversely try to play it in my mind when I am being waited. Very special in narration and tune.

10.City of London Mekons This song is so unique, it says so much and nothing at all, I’ve not heard of any other song that captures the morose monotony within the heart of London better. Perfect song to listen to while having tea looking over Thames through a window.

11. Electrical storm U2 Perhaps the most underrated U2 song , bit techno-acoustic and jarring at times but Bono’s mesmerising voice is haunting, one of the brilliant black and white videos done for a song. Would be effective on a long drive on m6 in a summer evening.

12. Everybody’s talkin Harry Nilsson It’s a funny song. Very few songs can carry a movie on its tender shoulders and this one has done it so perfectly that it has grown to become the symbol of midnight cowboy. Imagine getting away with vom waonwaoon waaoon in a title track and through out the movie, as I said funny. Lively memories too.

13.When my guitar gently weeps George Harrison This is the song which adds meaning to music, I bet thousand arctic or Antarctic monkeys playing thousand guitars eternally cannot reach to an iota of the soul in this song, to me the best beatles(inc solo) song ever, slightly better than the universe by Lennon. Anyway better than that hugely overrated 3rd grade school essay made into a Lennon song.

Weirdincident...[1]

Weirdincident...[1] also called, When a naked woman waves at you in the night?

Lets see how what happened one night late winter. I was carrying a cold around and you know how a head carrying around the cold feels, awfully heavy and weird as if you are pregnant in your head, a vague debilitating feeling which prompts questions like how many cartoon characters you know that have committed suicide? Under such difficult circumstances, S asked me for a drink down the pub, though it was a weekday given my state, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea at all and as expected we had a fairly good time but were unable to escape darkly futile detours like how many cartoon characters we knew that had committed suicide? But by and large it wasn’t too bad at all and after returning I went straight to bed only to be awakened by my head crying itself in pain at 3 am so naturally I went to the kitchen to pop a couple paracetamols and as I peered at the darkness through the window I saw a bare-naked glowing feminine form, lovely and pale, smiling and waving at me, given the state of my head and the drink inside it I waved back impulsively without sparing a thought and duly went back to bed only did when I realise the nature of the incident and returned back to the window to find nothing , no man or woman waving , not even a sausage; oh the old mind playing tricks or the drink or the cold or perhaps a combination of all, I buried myself beneath the linens of a cliché and went to deep dark noiseless sleep and when I woke up P was smiling her lovely smile and making me a fresh coffee, morning I wished back and during the course of conversation casually remarked about the incident and she first thought I was taking the mick out but then scoffed saying she had found a marble underneath the bed last night to which I promptly replied mine were fine the last time I checked and then I asked her two questions - 1 How many cartoon characters she knew that have killed themselves? and 2 Does she believe in ghosts? She disdainfully dismissed in one stroke of feminine genius saying ah you should watch your drink , but the cheeky girl she is,worried within that someone was trying to seduce me, had walked all the way through to the security office which led to the cctv footage of the night in question to be scanned frame by frame and eventually culminated in me discovering in the newspaper the following day that some religious cult was hanging around in the vicinity of my backyard having orgies at late night; I, of course was filled with a deep sense of regret to have missed the opportunity that would have gone directly up to the top five of the 100 things about me chartlist, oh what a miss,I had pictured myself proudly saying gentleman and ladies, ask not what syphilis did to you , ask what you did to the syphilis? and how you did it? but for now I just pray and hope at nights standing before the window not minding the three cameras that have been newly fitted for an omen.
So dear reader, kindly do something more than waving back at the naked woman who waves at you in the night from outside a window for these days not everyone can have the chance to be in an orgy , Heck ! How many cartoon characters you know who were in an orgy anyway?

Multicolour Multicultural Britain?

Camden Market, London.

A Thank you to the kind shop-fellas who glady obliged.

There goes another novel....

~After all the hunting, have finally laid my hands on this precious photo of my two personal Gods: Marilyn reading Ulysses. A sublime symbol of what God and Man are best capable of.

Now, as the frame adorns my study wall, I contently sip my tea marvelling at its beauty, split between my admiration for Ulysses and adoration for Monroe, telling to myself, how it was all worth the time and quid. To borrow Monsieur Balzac, Yes, there goes another novel....

Dusk...

Dusk...

~Yet another Hyde Park sunset; a serene feeling beyond the confines of any medium.

Rose...

Her name is Rose marie Higgins. The wise may feel otherwise but No, its not okay to call a Rose by any other name. Two sugars including.
PS; Lunch time flashlog.

Being PC...

a political/personal detour:
If asked to choose one man in contemporary politics who has impressed me the most, it has to be undoubtedly him.He could be best described only by borrowing an american term -the balls !
With all the misgivings included, he is growing more cunning by the day.
And I say Balls not in any frivolous or blasphemous sense , I say as it fits in perfectly- If you have something to say and are unable to keep it to your glorious self, you speak to the concerned and to the face; with your head held high and shoulders raised tall, and not speak to his/her back or in his/her absence.
Thats not balls, thats rationalization of self pity.
For eg, writing a blog about someone who cant defend himself or herself is not a testimonial. There is no honour in that.Absolutely none.Whatsover. Even skewed education or disturbed mothers cant be blamed for that.
For those who mistake blogs for testimonials, vide roman wisdom- latin: testis, testify, testimonial et al, you swear holding your balls in front of the involved. And say whatever you wanted , to the face.
That is the measure of your worth.

Water.....

Lets do a J Locke on water.
Think water.
Think how a sparkly drop slithers off gracefully from the tip of the tangerine leaf onto the one below , think how the ripples in a pond grow and grow into their own slow death.
Think how slimy heavywet your socks feel after an accidental rainpuddlewalk, or how the fingertips feel as you write on a moist puffedamp window pane.
Think how it is to hear the cavernous eternity of the tides roaring one after the other lying on a beach, or the tap that leaks so excruciatingly on a lazy afternoon.
Think of that watertaste on your parched tongue just after a long summer run, or think of how heavy and pregnant the evening smells just before a tropical rain.
Yes that water.
If original thought is regarded the prized accomplishment of man as a being, then water is the thought of nature. The undeniable symbol of the eternity of being and becoming.
Water is the visible form of the universe.
Think water, think life.

~6/4/06
On a Motorway.