Sunday, November 28, 2004

Not the red baron, not Charlie Brown

I opened a red door. The world was luminous. It spoke through walls. It brought new meaning. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning. Not the red baron.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Here and Now

So I am back in Dubai now. The weather is nice, the cars are big and the roads are wide. What more do I need? Well, I think a lot more than that. Little trouble girl that I am.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

They all fall for his lines

Chinese symbols on his robe. Never gonna match up with that smile. He's wearing mostly black and gold. It's been twelve days. The longest for a while. He's been fortunate. He can't tell a lie. Redheads, blondes, brunettes. They all fall for his lines. He's been king now for so long. His days are numbered. Times have changed, so move along. The dream is over. Draped across Egyptian linen, even Cleopatra casts an eye. A gossamer see-through zipped up tracksuit, champagne bottle, ten o'clock on fire. He's been fortunate. He cannot deny. Jacuzzi baronet with soap suds in his eyes. He's been king now for so long. His days are numbered. Times have changed, so move along. The dream is over. He's been king now for so long. His days are numbered. Times have changed, so move along. The dream is over. We've been waiting for so long. We think it's over.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Split the Difference

Finally. I was hoping this would happen. I have had the latest Gomez album "Split the difference" for more than 3 months but just couldn't immerse into it. Now, it finally lifts its head and it is gorgeousness and gorgeosity all in one. Oh, I knew such wonderful colours. These boys are 60 tonne angels. :)

Monday, November 15, 2004

Condiments

So one day I began collecting: I urinated into a large jar. I masturbated and scooped my ejaculate into a second jar. I took a knife from the drawer and made an incision on the end of my finger and squeezed the blood in thin trickles and fat drops into a third jar. I sat down with a fourth jar on my lap, and thought of sad things. Then I wept into the jar. I repeated these actions every evening, each fluid into its appointed jar. After a month, I emptied the contents of the jars into small saucepans, which I heated carefully until I had evaporated the liquid. When the pans had cooled, I scraped the residue, with the aid of a funnel, into separate salt cellars. I then tasted each of my personal salts, judging which would go best with what food. My experiment was a resounding success. The salts seemed to impart a subtle intensity to spicy dishes, and a freshness and zest to even the most homely soup. And so my restaurant began to attract many more patrons as increasing numbers of adulatory reviews appeared in some of the Sunday supplements. Obviously, I had to continue to produce the salts that had made my culinary creations such overnight successes. My establishment was now being patronised by celebrities as well as politicians and the merely rich.My difficulty lay chiefly with eliciting sadness on demand. On some nights I would sit in my chair, the fourth jar on my lap, and start laughing with joy at the success of my restaurant. I would have to force myself to envisage a starving child or departing lover. I knew that there was boundless, ceaseless suffering on this Earth, but I found it more and more difficult to identify with it myself, while the prestige of my restaurant grew higher, and with it my bank balance. I found that the most efficacious manner of forcing tears from my eyes was to think of love; loves lost, love's tragedies, and love's hopelessness.And so it was that I began to have trouble with the second jar. Latterly, my attempts at masturbation were rather more difficult, as my erotic thoughts staggered and tumbled into the despair I needed for the fourth jar. Not infrequently, I found it impossible to distinguish between sorrow and love. After five months, I caught myself ejaculating into my lap, upon which rested the jar meant for tears. I began to find sorrow arousing, and could not cry without getting an erection. Conversely, I could not find a woman attractive without starting to weep. I worried about my salts, for my supplies were running low. Moreover, the quality of the salt from the first jar was beginning to decline, as I attempted to find solace in alcoholic abandon. I would drink deeply; and laugh, and cry. But my urine suffered. It became thin and pale, copius but worthless. The salt I extracted was tasteless.The reputation of my restaurant would keep its fortunes bouyant for a while, but I knew that sooner, rather than later, the decline in the quality of the seasonings would be noted. I sank lower into despair. I could not run the terrible risk of sharing my secret with anyone else. I had only one reliable source of salt - that which filled the third jar. The third jar never ran out. The menu had to reflect this, and there was a preponderance of rich, red, meaty dishes, lavishly enhanced with the salt of my blood, trickled - or sometimes drunkenly spurted, gushed - from my fingers, thumbs, wrists or arms every evening.But I was weakening. My drinking was becoming uncontrollable, I would involuntarily orgasm during the news, and burst into tears at the most inopportune moments. The constant bloodletting was making me anaemic. I resolved to return to the formula that had won my eaterie so many plaudits. Determinedly, I researched the most emotionally draining novels, the most haunting poems. I ejaculated again and again into the second jar. I drank pure fruit juice and mineral water and produced once again the golden, viscous urine that filled the first jar. I wept uncontrollably, for three-quarters of a hour, with a pornographic magazine propped in front of me. And I took the sharpest knife and drew one widening red line across my wrist. The banquet was a success.
- S.D.

What with all these when's and why's?

When are you leaving? When are you returning? Why are you leaving? What will you do in Dubai? Will you remember to water the plants? Will you take the garbage out? When is this beginning going to end? What with all these when's and why's?

Sunday, November 14, 2004

As clear as an azure sky in deepest summer

So the birthday is over and the weekend is over. A good few days to remember. :) The birthday was a meetup and drink session at this little place in town called Hypnos. Very interesting interiors. The music also was very upbeat. Only thing it was pretty empty. It seemed like a private party and an entry into the deepest corridors of our minds. Lots of fun. Saturday night I gave in to my "mainstream" urges and went with the two lovely ladies (mentioned in another post, read "Script 11: Afternoons") to a very hip place called "Spinn". The drinks and dance were a lot of fun. Also thanks to my friend - the x-genome. :) Speak to you later, good doctor.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

One year before the bombastic downslide

Its all going to go down in flames after a year. I have started counting. Pinned up a chart on the board. I will have to start marking the x's. But I think 29 is a magical year. I hope I see rabbits appearing out of a hat. I hope I find a bridge made of bricks. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Sitting pretty in my eleven eleven space.

Have to quote Mr. Donwood before I put my head down to sleep -
When things like this are going on it seems luxurious to consider my own responses to them. In the valley the flames are smudges of yellow but I still perambulate around my feelings of horror and disbelief. I used to live there but now I don't. Now I don't live anywhere. Are you worried? Because I'm not.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Revolutionary Army of the Baby Jesus

Hail, Hail! Its so pretty outside. The flowers are falling. The leaves have dried up. The sun is setting. The closing is here. Lets open again, 5 decembers back.

K. V. Kurien

K. V. Kurien is a good friend of mine. He is very short to begin with. He is kinda round. He is very grey. He has a hole in his head. He has nice ornaments around this frame. He is always open to receiving what we have to give him, which, I must say, is not much. He has always been there for us. He opens the window to a sky of diamonds. He holds the remains of our love for as long as he can. Silly ol' ashtray.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

3 poems from the closet

loss
the weakness, it grows,
the resistance, its cold.
today is the yesterday i will regret tomorrow,
an emptiness, it grows,
a heart thats falling, a broken window into natures arms,
unconsciousness beckons and the frailty thickens.
i look onto the sky and alone i stand
faceless, godless, joyless. paving my way into the nights unfriendly hands.


party
me. dry cotton. wasteland crayon. i am lavishing on the remains of my skull.
gouge it out, wash it out. enter the wastelands of my territory.
everything else steers through eyes, glass and then piston through my burnt lips.
tell the fountain about the family we had.
the sink, the mills, the digs, loose bills, eggs - everything else shines, but this.
my personal methods escape me, flicker through them cotton eyes.
through this tigers nautical, my midnight deepens into morning.
waterfall emptiness, cried and dried, all the cotton has evaporated.i sit alone after the party. my temporary insanity finished.


taxi's
brother lou, stay up in a perfectly windowed sky.
alternate the realms from black to grey, sit back in drivers position, hold on to your vision, limited yet vast.
the scene, i am driving by the woods.
watermelon sky dripping with blood.
blue glue temporarily fastened to the doors corner.
no one in time to catch the cab.
mysteriously on the other side. a safe journey, now i am dead.

Two shots of happy, one shot of sad

All in all its been such an experimental year. The high points would have to be the "PLACE" project (100hands.net has the project in its full flourish) and my time with my brother and my friends (all the x-genome). The downside would have to be all the relocating. And now its time for one more relocation. Hope I am through with relocating for a while. Sick of it with all the art I carry on my shoulders. I need some help from social vultures. Come hither! Oh, the burdens of being upright. What time is it?

Monday, November 08, 2004

So full of promises, but rarely do they feed us

The late 1950s and 1960s have been described by Arthur Marwick as marking "a retreat from the social controls imposed in the Victorian era by evangelicalism and non-conformity." Indeed, there exist many examples to prove that this era was one of liberal reform and social revolution. The extent of liberal reform can be witnessed in "The Betting and Gaming Act" of 1960, which legalized certain forms of gambling and led to street betting shops, gambling clubs and Bingo. It can be seen in Home Secretary James Callaghan's decision in 1969 to make the abolition of capital punishment a permanent fixture; and furthermore in 1967 when supported by the government, and several Conservatives, the Liberal MP, David Steel had put forward the "Abortion Act" which enabled a pregnant woman a legal abortion on the mere evaluation of two doctors believing it was necessary on medical and psychological grounds. The social and even sexual revolution of the 1960s can be defined by legislation that made divorce more easily attainable under the "Divorce Reform Act", the "Sexual Offences Act" which no longer made a homosexual act between two consenting adults an offense, and even the introduction of the Pill, which had the effect of "contributing to a general sense of security for women and girls and to a situation in which contraception (something no respectable girls would have dreamt of mentioning ten years before) could be spoken of openly". A picture of a more tolerant and liberal society seems apparent.

From the fashion for miniskirts and hot-pants to the increased consumption of illegal drugs like cannabis, amphetamines and LSD, through the words of popular songs of the time to gang fights at the sea side -- and as a result of the explicitness of certain theatre productions and the increased promiscuity of the young -- it seemed as though a revolution had brought about a permissive age. But was the revolution complete and had it permeated all sections and all age groups in society? How far could permissiveness go? A Clockwork Orange is an indicator which holds some of the answers to these questions. It shows how the old morality still remained and if the film is evidence of the radical Sixties then reaction it received is evidence of the conservative Seventies.

"Up to the last war the Board clearly considered itself the guardian of public morality, allowing no departure from the acceptable code of conduct and behavior, the protector of the and image of the Britain in the other countries and the protector of cinema audiences from such dangerous themes as those involving controversial politics." Indeed the board claimed, "the success of the cinematograph had been obtained by the fact that it was clean and healthy to which ladies and children could go in safety." After The Second World War the arts in general enjoyed a sense of liberalisation from this policy, which allowed film considerably more freedom than before. The B.B.F.C. was evolving and consequently so was the content of films showing in the cinema. The board introduced The "X" certificate in 1951 to deal with films that were not "merely sordid films dealing with unpleasant subjects, but films which while, not being suitable for children, are good adult entertainment films which appeal to an intelligent public". This was in fact how the board perceived A Clockwork Orange. However, during the early sixties there was a backlash against this post-war liberalisation and people started to ask questions about the direction that art was taking. These questions became, as we shall see, increasingly more frequent so that by the time A Clockwork Orange was released there existed a great deal still unanswered.

In 1960 the Conservative MP for Wimbledon, Sir Cyril Black, formed the "Moral Law Defence Association", gaining the support of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the moderator of the Free Church Council. The same year another group "Youth Impact" was established to tackle "increasing immorality" as well as the "London Committee Against Obscenity". These committees although small and practically ineffectual were an indication of the changing tide of reaction against what they saw as obscenity in the arts. Far more influential was "The Women of Britain Clean-up T.V. Campaign", which later became "The viewers and Listeners' Association" with the notorious Mary Whitehouse at its helm. "Although dismissed as cranky and ineffectual, The campaign gathered force until by the late sixties its voice was powerful enough to be influential at the BBC." Despite the emergence of these groups, the liberal opinion of the arts, meanwhile, had encouraged the freeing of the theatre from prior censorship under the Theatre Act of 1968. This act came under scrutiny when the play "Oh! Calcutta!" was staged at "The Roundhouse" in 1970. Including nudity and scenes of stimulated sexual behavior, it aroused instant protest from many quarters. Mary Whitehouse, David Holbrook, then a lecturer at Dartington Hall, the Dowager Lady Birdwood, founder of the V.A.L.A., and Frank Smith, a non-conformist G.L.C. councillor all expressed their disdain. In January 1970 the "underground" magazine "International Times" was indicted for containing advertisements , "to induce readers to resort to the said advertisers for the purpose of homosexual practices and thereby to debauch and corrupt public morals". A further charge alleged that the publishers had "conspired to outrage public decency by inserting advertisements containing lewd, disgusting and offensive matter". In the same month a series of lithographs by John Lennon were seized when the London Art Gallery was raided. Following an initiative by John Trevelyan, Warhol and Morrisey's "Flesh" was shown at the "Open Space Theatre" a few days later. That was until 32 policeman descended on the theatre collecting the screen, the film projector, as well as the names and addresses of those who were present. Although neither of these cases led to prosecutions the publicity that they encouraged led the Home Secretary to announce to the House of Commons, March 12th 1970,
There is a great deal of pornography about that is causing a great deal of concern to many people in this country...Broadly speaking, I want the House to know that I shall support the police when they act in response to the police in investigating these matters. It may be that, On occasions, they will make mistakes of judgement, but I know perfectly well that the country as a whole is extremely alarmed at what is going on in this field.

In the light of these events the Christian pressure groups united under their banner of "The Festival of Light" seeking to inform the public of what they saw as "moral pollution". Their route of attack headed them into the direction of the cinema:
The Festival focused its challenge to 'permissiveness' almost entirely on the mass media. The Cinema, forced to concentrate on adult themes, represented a suitably large and vulnerable target. Unlike the television companies, it had no spokesman to defend it, nor any mass public support to fall back upon. It was an ideal symbol of the ills in society which the Festival was now determined to expose and eradicate. What was to prove significant, in particularly, to the later censorship of A Clockwork Orange, were the comments made by Lord Windlesham, Minister of State at the Home Office, who told his peers in the Lords about a circular he had sent to local Authorities, "reminding them of powers they have concerning cinema licensing, and asking them to consider whether they were making adequate use of these powers, with particular reference to indecent or offensive advertisements for films."

At the same time there developed a great deal of debate concerning the emergent sex films which were being produced in Scandinavia, Germany and America which by a loophole in the law via the "Cinematograph Act" and the "Obscene Publications Act" were making an appearance in private cinemas in London. The club loophole had long been a concern to governments formed by both major parties. An indication of the neurosis of the time was illustrated by Lord Ferrier who assured the House of Lords of a "Definite link between international communism and the distribution to adolescents of certain pornographic material."

Furthermore, the surprise victory in the election of June 1970 was an indication of the turn to the right that was evident at this time . It was an encouraging sign to the anti-permissive groups. By September 1970 the Archbishop of Canterbury was calling on Christians to unite and protest against obscenity and blasphemy and so by September 25th, 1971 the "Festival of Light" was able to attract 35,000 people to a meeting in Trafalgar Square. The Festival's success was their ability to make local authorities much more critical of the films they reviewed reminding them of their powers over cinema licensing. Beforehand the local authorities had been even more liberal than the B.B.F.C. From 1969-1971 they had passed films rejected by the Board on some 150 occasions.

If this was the sea of moral panic into which A Clockwork Orange was launched, it was not aided by advertisements that tended to focus on the more sensational aspects of the film. The promotional poster depicted the leading character, played by Malcolm McDowell, brandishing a knife and a psychotic stare accompanied by the headline, "Being the adventures of a young man whose principal interests are rape, ultra-violence and Beethoven". Moreover, Adrienne Corri, who appeared in the film, confided in the Sunday Mirror that she "was scared to see herself," since, "this was violence beyond anything I ever imagined would appear on the screen."

There were other violent films released at the same time as A Clockwork Orange. In some cases they were probably even more graphically violent. In the film The Devils scenes of nuns in a nude orgy aroused enough interest to lead L'Osservature Roman, the official newspaper of the Vatican to pass comment. Furthermore, Straw Dogs led 13 critics of the day to take the unprecedented step of writing to The Times to complain of its unnecessary use of violence and double rape. However far from distracting attention from A Clockwork Orange, films such as the aforementioned mentioned, Soldier Blue, Witch-Finder General, The Wild Bunch and Performance, only made anti-permissive groups more determined to get to grips with A Clockwork Orange. As Guy Phelps pointed out,
Having missed the boat where the indiscriminate violence of Straw Dogs was concerned, all kinds of pressure groups, newspaper 'campaigns' and the all-purpose commentators who were there in the media now latched onto A Clockwork Orange as the current whipping boy for the industry's irresponsibility.

It is quite probable that under more normal circumstances A Clockwork Orange would not have aroused so much controversy, but such as it was, the scene had been set for the "Clockwork Controversy".

- source "kubrick.com"


Too much rope

Venkatesh, the man with three hands. One that we cannot see. :) He sees while we sleep. He smiles when we awake. He casts thousands. He sits pretty in a shell made of porcelain. He holds too much rope in his hand.

Unfriendly voices

An interesting yet weird thing happened on Friday (Freud-day should I say). The trecker came home and after I immersed myself into x-genome, we decided to do a game. Each of us would randomly select a CD from my collection and the name of the album would be our future. Silly isnt it? The trecker went first. He selected a compilation album but the first song that played was the traditional wedding music and the first words I saw when i opened the CD was "Miss misery". Do your math. But we quickly let that slide and he went again. And get this, he got George Harrison's "Brainwashed". Miss misery, brainwashed... am I reading too deep into this or is it plain jane arithmetics here. Well, I went next and the one I landed was Coldplay's "A rush of blood to the head". I hope it meant creative outburst extraordinaire in the future. But, erm, the future has no script. So. Lets hit the can.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Opening titles, Bedtime stories

What if the opening titles for a film scrolled from the bottom of the screen to the top? Wont it resemble the closing titles? We have been so used to seeing that, no? But for a film called "END" I think that this idea would work. I am not trying to do a Christopher Nolan on you. I am just sitting on your shoulders waiting for you to give me the nod. Close this session, finalise the suspicion, understand the cast, remove all insinuations, mask all exit points, fish out all available bait and once and for all sink into the blue of my oblivion. :)

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

...those ones!

Discovered a little gem. I didnt know that these guys were so good. I was documenting my cds and thought I'd give a listen to Jamiroquai's second album "The return of the space cowboy". It truly blew me away. And when a bunch of friends landed up, we understood what true funk genius is. Not to mention entry of Mr. X-genome . "Return..." and "Emergency on Planet Earth" are gems. The bassist and drummer drilled holes into my head. :)

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Good bee, Bad bee

I ate your kitchen knives.

T R A I N S

Train set and match spied under the blind / Shiny and contoured the railway winds / And I've heard the sound from my cousin's bed / The hiss of the train at the railway head / Always the summers are slipping away / A 60 ton angel falls to the earth / A pile of old metal, a radiant blur / Scars in the country, the summer and her / Always the summers are slipping away / Find me a way for making it stay / When I hear the engine pass / I'm kissing you wide / The hissing subsides / I'm in luck / When the evening reaches here / You're tying me up / I'm dying of love / It's OK

Monday, November 01, 2004

Script 11: Afternoons

The future has no script. Or so, someone said. Noise, I think. :) Scotties is a nice little place close to the office. Frequent the place sometimes with a friend of mine whom I call Khan. He calls me Shark. But yesterday went there with two pretty young women from the office and had a really nice time. The beer and the wine, killer combo. Even McDonalds couldnt beat that. Fun to relax and have your jokes laughed at. Sometimes. Then, sometimes, I like hanging out with kangaroos and little squirrels wearing anklets. Oh, the guilt. I dont want to push, this heat brings on too much into my livid heart. Oh, its all too clear now. The mist has cleared and the sun shines right through the trees. Sunwise ..... to clockwise!

Oh, the wondrous thoughts becoming fairytale-like nightmares

Closing in on the big day. Two friends come over. Smoke "H". Overblown. Police, Steely Dan and Tea Party playing. These grandiose nightmares are lots of fun. Well done, Gordon.
Oh, the wondrous thoughts becoming fairytale-like nightmares