Have just seen Mamma Mia. Was exactly what I expected. Nothing less and unfortunately, nothing more. Am also starting (albeit quite late) on the Star Wars series (just finished movie I). Movies I want to see soon (click on them for trailer): 1. Hancock(for Will Smith)
0 comments - Post a comment
2. Flash of Genius (beautiful mind meets the office I presume in all american smalltown dream goodness)
3. Watchmen (From the creators of 300, a graphic novel turned into a movie - thank you NGAC)
4. Smart People (Michael Bates and the Juno girl, snappy and witty)
5. Juno (purely to see if all the hype's worth it)
6. Get Smart (slapstick mindless wind down on a friday movie)
7. The Women (one for the girls)
8. Wall-E (cute)
9. Marley and Me (have you read the book?? who can resist a cute lab who doesn't know his own strength?)
10. Married Life (pierce brosnan, satirical view of betrayal and murder in a time when divorce was still a dirty word)
11. Angus, Thongs & Perfect Snogging (extremely cute teen flick from the director of Bend it Like Beckham, follows growing pains of a genZ 14 year old girl in an english public school who must soon leave for New Zealand and leave all her friends - and crush - behind)Friday, July 18, 2008
Just for fun :) Currently the top 2 screen men, by my books at least: Pierce Brosnan - rough childhood, struggled to get to the top, soil of the earth with the inimitable unassuming Irish charm, rarely seen wicked sense of humour, and a doting father. He's aged gracefully, and has had a stable married life. Plus of course, the James Bond legacy. Not to forget the James Bond legacy. Hugh Laurie - the intelligent intelligent intelligent cold blue-gray eyes. Known to be able to play "any musical instrument thrown at him" , sings gorgeously, can act, screenwrite, playwrite (playwright? is that a verb?) and - did you know he's ALSO authored 2 books? Bestsellers in the drama / suspense / thriller category, both, initially flitted from publisher to publisher under a pseudonym so that he wouldn't get a contract just for his name. The second releases late 2009. He's the vocalist/keyboard player of a local London rock band with Lenny Henry called Poor White Trash (I know!), and so are his kids (of a different, younger band). He's been married to the same woman since 1989, plus he's uber private about his family life and revels in sensible (I think it is) sense of depression about everything for no reason except fatalistic. Of course he's a Gemini ! Weird - both Brit. I'm a bit prejudiced aren't I? Hm.
3 comments - Post a comment
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Am currently reading extremely hilarious Stephen Fry pre-Oxford autobiography. My incentive to read it sadly was the knowledge that Hugh Laurie, being Small(not) Fry 's bosom lifetime mate, chum, compatriot, stage sharer, pal, S-on-R sharer of many drunken nights, confidante et al would have a generous mention. Hugh, of course, is not likely to write an autobiography, on account of being privacy loving enough to never give out any family life fuzzy dinner scene like descriptions of Laurie household in all his so far held interviews (very surprising since lovely household, stable since inception of marriage in manner of normal and hence weirdly dysfunctional Brit family and with no rehab checked in offspring so far) and stiff upper lip land loving enough to be depressed in LA despite finding it thoroughly challenging to play gorgeous character in House (Do not mean to sound like I know him in manner of next door neighbour. I don't. I know, its a shame. That's one human instance who's brain I want to pick.). Anyway, so I'm just wondering - what is MOAB? And why has Stephen Fry named his autobiography 'MOAB is my Washpot'? In an unprecedented catastrophe, Google has failed me. Oh, and I was a bit disappointed. Only one mention of House, Gregory, M.D. in Chapter 4, and a teeny tiny B&W picture of Fry and him playing chess in Cambridge dorm room (they were roomies, and they are playing in..um..coats. In the dorm room. No, really.). Let's hope he stars significantly in coming chapters. Post post note: (As in post script note) Have realised on completely unrelated note that there are 3 parts to love - one, chemistry, two, comfort and three, compatibility. Usually people get comfort and compatibility bang on target and mistake the resulting combination for love. I have friends who forgot the chemistry part, mistaking friendship for love, only to realise it a one night stand later. I have even more friends who forgot all except the chemistry part. I must be the only idiot who forgot the compatibility part. Even when the person feels like your best friend and a fantastic partner - sometimes you just don't fit. Your life manuals are written in different scripts, even if they aim towards a similar goal. Leads to impedance mismatch. And sooner or later, the, er,voltage hits the fan. Post 'post post note' note : Please ignore above post post note as more emotional crap (refer to previous 2 posts if in doubt of level of emotional crap this poster can stoop to). Labels: Book review, love
3 comments - Post a comment
Sunday, July 13, 2008
I used to be strong They tell me I still am Then why do I feel so shredded Why do I feel like the wind is blowing for me Whispering bitter secrets that curdle my blood Salting my bruised ego, mocking my blindness Can't believe I didn't see Can't believe you were just like the others Can't believe you're still telling yourself you're not But most of all I can't believe I still love you That I'd still take you back I'm the fool I used to laugh at Its a cruel circle of life I'm back here, where you pushed me Four years ago Dark, wet, ragged thoughts Sharpening themselves against my princess dreams Voices in my head, never heard them I fought them off in true love's name I weakened what made me me I gave up what I was to be with you Always was a perfect actress And now when I need it the most My river runs dry It's too cold here for my tears to dry The blinds are open, there's no sunshine Summer's a far cry away
You stand there And I stand here And how did this happen? Weren't we forever? I can't figure it out So I fight You can't figure it out So you turn around And walk away I'm not a victim, I don't want to be one And I'm not saying there was another way Maybe you're stronger than me But I don't have to be gracious about this I can't. Cause I still love you. And that's forever. - Inspired by events on 12 July 2008 (I also found this beautiful heartbreak song on youtube which is better than anything Norah Jones can ever hope to sing. Its called "someone you used to know", lyrics below.) Lyrics to Someone You Used to Know by KokoKaina (YouTube) Copyright 2008 (PS I have no idea why I named the post what I did. California songs are always soothing - Californication, Hotel California, California Calling, California here I come). And right now, the mood is right. )
His name is Wayne. He has a son who he can only see once a month, although now that the son has expressed a desire to see him more often, he might try to muster the courage to ask the mother to allow that. He doesn't think she'll agree, but he thinks its only fair that she thinks that way. He didn't tell me why. And he told me today that someone who was a regular buyer and had links at a non-profit social welfare org had offered to put some of his sketches on blank greeting cards. I bought one of these cards for $3. Its a sketch of a cat - very minimalistic and very nice. He also had greeting cards with his sketches of a lab, a terrier and a beautiful autumn landscape. But I liked the cat the most. The card is white with the sketch in black in the front. It is blank inside with Wayne, Melbourne, 2008, printed on the back in simple Times New Roman font. It is the most beautiful card ever. I asked him what happened to the gray and black tree. He sold it. He says he will make a blue and light blue one in the next 2 weeks, provided he makes enough money to buy the paints.
They say the first signs of depression are having a complete 8 hours of sleep and yet having difficulty getting out of bed from the sheer pointlessness of it all. By the looks of it, I'm in the final stage of depression. I don't really see who is benefiting from me getting out of bed. Any bloke/blokette paid an equal amount could easily do my share of coding the project (possibly better than me and with less references to google.com for a million syntaxes which have slipped the well waxed crevices of my brain) and it wouldn't take much for the few supporting roles I fill in a couple of lives to be filled with someone new. God knows widowers remarry and long time lovers are given up with less sentimentality nowadays than evoked by a stolen ipod. Usually, a bright book or a lively song put me back on the path to LaLa land, but lately this panacea too has given up on me. No, I don't intend to turn into one of those shocking news stories where a girl posts her suicide intentions, is ignored and then appears in the headline stating that society is coming to naught when a distraught idiot can't get help. I'm just really really feeling like I swallowed a lemon wedgie after a bittergourd pie. And unfortunately, I'm not the kind to down the medicine with a tequila shot. So while my red eyed Monday hung over colleagues hover on the office floor, I must find ways to distract my over active brain from the lack of true companionship. What I wouldn't do right now for a truly interesting conversation that goes well into the wee hours, over stale cheese with old friends who knew what it was like to just let go, who walked into lecture halls with severely oiled hair, without certain items of clothing, who climbed water towers and made politically incorrect statements, who believed in true love and red roses, who loved chocolate like every self respecting girl should, who cried when they read chicken soup stories, who befriended the boys I loved, and loathed the boys who were mean to me, who defended me from the world more than any man ever can, who convinced each other's parents that four 20 year old girls gallivanting around Goa would actually not be all that dangerous and who looked so 5 years old at 11pm sipping tea in a desolate roadside bus stopover as she giggled and said, "this is so cool - we're all alone in the middle of nowhere, and we're all girls!" , who struggled to make it to a girls night out despite being drenched down to our first-time-worn-high-heels after a particularly stressful set of exams, desperate to have a good time, even if we had to push our luck and our bodies' endurance to have it. I miss them. I miss us. I miss who we were. And I know we won't be the same. We've all grown old in a way. I miss you too, you know who you are. I miss sitting by you, and feeling that sense of calm and the freezing of the million hundred miles a second thought threads in my head, I miss all our first times, I miss all the frustrations, highs, lows that come before you develop a quiet and mature stoicism of each other's weaknesses, I miss having long conversations over nothing and everything, over an uncertain future and a cherished past, I miss knowing that you'd be there when I got back, I miss being the one you called for every little thing, I miss calling you for every little thing, I miss spontaneous drives and intended brushes, I miss all the things that I can't write here, not even in my diary, because they are that beautiful, and it makes them that much less beautiful once its written down in staid words, no matter how eloquent. It'll never be the same, no matter how hard we try. We met as innocent adolescents, a wonder in itself. And now a quiet streak of ink is quietly curling its climber like way into this pure vessel of white milk. As responsibilities cause backaches and strained voices, we rapidly journey on the path to worldly success, coming of age in full splendour. With the coming of the new, the old is gone. And you are that much aware that it was old. That there is an "old" and a "new". And that in itself is a painful realization, almost cramping one's gait and pulling one back. Cliches remain the best way to say this - you can't turn back time. I miss the old me. Yet I know that this is part of growing up, this murky inner sadness, this acceptance of the white pain that my once carefree friends are going though, this purple bruising of the eternal hope that once lived within us and the realization that no matter how hard you try, you will eventually fall into the pattern of socially accepted life timelines, the same major milestones marking your success. And someday years from now, the dreams that were as vivid in those afternoon classrooms as a red line in a 3000 line unit of code is now, will be but a fuzzy memory that evokes only feelings, but who's tangible sense of reality in lost in the folds of this quarter life crisis.
1 comments - Post a comment
Heartbreak california
1:32 PM
0 comments - Post a comment
It was helpless anyway
There's nothing much we could do or say
Darling don't you think it's a shame?
That it had to end this way
So here's to say goodbye,
Our love is lost, and we cant figure why
Maybe it really is about time
That we finally made up our minds
So Darling, here's to you
I hope that when you find someone new
That she would always be true to you
To love and understand you
Soon you'll build new memories
Then slowly you'd forget about me
Then I would slowly be
A distant memory
*Soon I'll just be
that someone you used to know
But darling you will thank me
For letting you go
Time is not for wasting
I hope you'll find your intended
But I'm sorry
That your intended I'sn't me
It's not an easy thing
To shake off our history
I know that's what you want from me
But they will always stay with me
I admit I made mistakes
But darling with you it's just the same
If we stay there will be more to make
I dont know how much more we can take
Darling, it would be unfair
For you to stay with something no longer there
But it doesn't mean I no longer care
But I feel like a burden you can no longer bearWednesday, July 9, 2008
More on the artist @ Parliament
12:19 AM
0 comments - Post a comment
This one is for the girls
12:02 AM
0 comments - Post a comment