hello hello... this is yo yo fever management speaking
so after stagnating for 4 days at 104 degrees... my doc decided to whip out of his potli ... this real cool magic pill... current temperature 95 degrees!! cold cold cold
weeeeeeeeeeee
it sooooooooooooo good
ok now time up. i am sick again

Amazing grace ...

itna lamdang a min ngai e

kei bang kihhui hon hut

kei ka mangkhin tu’n a hon mu

mitdel, tu’n ka mu thei ...

tummy hurts
head hurts
back hurts
jaw hurts
scalp hurts
eyes hurt
heels hurt

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. .
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Its been so long since I saw cotton sail out of trees. I suppose oberoi builders have hacked them down. When chandrani was small, she would gather cotton in her frock. Then, she’d pick the stony seeds and carry the cloud home. ma would refuse to have any flyby cotton at home and throw her out. She never learnt. every day when cottons would soar in the heat, she’d scurry about in the white haze…snatch the white off the air, hold tight in her fist and open them to ma. Raw cotton grow out of her palms and leap out into the room. ma mad. C collects what she can and throws out urgently. Runs to her bedwindow to watch them fade into the evening.
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As the air turned moist, cotton would begin clotting on the grass. When they could cast shadows would be the end of their flight. Cotton season over. So that evening she brought home the clots - in her shoes,kneepits, in her ears, creeping out of her nose, hiding under her hair.... Ma came in screaming that she’d die if she inhaled any of that stuff. c morbid. Choking on some in her throat, she dug it into mud under the roses and potatoes. When ma left, she tore open her blanket and stuffed it all in- seeds, clouds mud and all...

.

"If the facts are on your side,
pound the facts.
If the law is on your side,
pound the law.
If neither is,
pound the table."


- The art of pathos in rhetoric

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An extract from the book me’s still reading .... here..

Part III Promise her anything but give her K-23

..... Logic limits love, which may be why Descartes never married. Descartes, architect of the Age of Reason, fled Paris, the City of Romance, in 1628 to “escape its distractions”. He settled in Holland, studied and wrote about Mathematics and logic. Late in the year of 1649, he was invited to visit Stockholm to instruct Queen Christina in philosophy. Descartes accepted at once. Perhaps the pay was good. There would have been a reason.

Queen Christina took her lessons lying down. Frequently she was nude. That is hardly the worst of it. The court of Sweden, like everyplace else in seventeenth-century Europe, was infested with fleas. Christina had had her craftsmen fashion for her a tiny cannon of silver and gold. As she lay about on her cushions, she fired the little canon at the fleas on her body. That was why she was nude. It is said she was a fair to good shot.

The daily sight of Her Majesty thus amusing herself while he, Descartes, in dark Dutch birches, undertook to explain the underlying perfection of an indubitable sphere of Being, was more than his rational bias could bear. He grew rapidly nervous and pale. On February 11, 1650, only a few months after his arrival in Stockholm, Descartes, fifty-four, fell dead. Christina lived thirty-nine years longer and knocked off a good many more fleas.

In 1666- little harm love could do to him then- Descartes’s body was taken to Paris for reburial. At the funeral, a disagreeable odor filled the churchyard. “It was as if a goatherd had driven his flock through our midst,” said one of Descartes’s followers. No logical explanation was offered.

(the author is grateful to Jessica Maxwell, whose ancestor once owned a perfume shop in New Orleans, and who traded him that shop for a flying conch shell)

hamesha se apni patni ki sundarta pe garv karne wala abhi bas rehta hai ye dukh ke saath ki uski patni ka ab….etc
So this is how they started the tezaab phekne wala incident news on Sahara Samay. Hellooooo!
some guy throws acid on this woman laxmi and top priority is hubby's thoughts on longing for her sundarta?

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There were so many things I wanted to write about tonight… periwinkle petals that i’d spit-stick on my fingernails and pretend it was that purple nail polish… of kisses and boiled unsalted squid…. the disappearance of dragonflies from near my favourite rock…the skies curdling these days…them robbing my rocks and giving away to builders…so the waves don’t crash anymore they just creep on the broken bathroom tiles....hmmm

or only a locust of pigeons sometimes.

another sky, another time

October 24, 2005 trip to the moon



October 22, 2005 all charged up



October 23, 2005 blue-orange tufts




December 12, 2005 natalie imbruglia sky

tar shojol chokhe kajol chhilo na| chhilo na ashadh megher badhon chhilo, badol chhilo na||

yesterday's sky was a pretentious bitch.
lied.
all decked up heaving to rain.
dint.
so i went to to the sea early this evening to check what it was all about.
the sky was all curdled. the gibbous moon looked fuzzy but it was pulling at the waves alright.
the air was sultry salty. but the flybyskybees under the wet rocks were gone.
i wonder whats wrong...
some 27 stars i could see. no dragonflies today
and then the guard there slashed bright light in my eyes - idhar letneka nahi.

so does anyone think the new jap tourist coke ad is offensive?

bits of Barnabe Barnes' Sestine 4.

was reading on poetic forms, came upon an old sestine... heres a taste of the poem for short attention spans, though in my attempt to 'showcase' it, the sestine's broken. But then i don't fancy it for its 6line stanzas anyway, i like it cause...... you will see

from ...Eccho, what shall I do to my Nymphe, when I goe to behold her? [ Parthenophil and Parthenophe 1593]


Eccho, what shall I do to my Nymphe, when I goe to behold her?
Eccho, hold her.

So dare I not, least she should thinke that I make her a pray then?
Eccho, pray then.

…Yea but I greatly feare, she will haue pure thoughtes to refuse such?
Eccho, fewe such. / ...//



Such will I seeke but what shall I do when I first shall attempt her?
Eccho, tempt her.

How shall I tempt her eare she stand on termes of her honor?
Eccho, on her.

Oh might I come to that! I thinke it is euen so
Eccho, tis euen so.

Strongly to tempt, and moue (at first) is surely the best then?
Eccho, the best then. /….. //


What (when they do repugne, yet cry not forth) will they do then?
Eccho, do then.

With such a blunt proeme, Ladies shall I moue neuer
Eccho, euer.

I must waite at an inche on such Nymphes whom I regard so
Eccho, guarde so.

Those whom in hart I loue, my faith doth firmely deserue such
Eccho, serue such.

Then (to become their slaues) is no great dishonor?
Eccho, honor.

But to the muses (first) I will recommend her
Eccho, commende her //……

meanwhile............AISHWARYAAAH!!

the one thing i feared most as a shrimp was the camera.
so in all my pictures i am eitheir crying or about to break into this morbid wail
when i learnt to talk i feared the camera a little less but i wouldnt be shot alone
so by the time i was four i had to make faces at it pretending i am not being shot
so i never touched any camera till i was 15 i think
and one day ........


(stay tuned)