I've come to the conclusion that bloggers are pack animals.
It is a truth (which should be) universally acknowledged that bloggers need other bloggers. Not just so that there is somebody to read their own witterings and tell them how utterly and stupendously brilliant they are (which is always appreciated, of course), because you don't have to bloggers to do that, just readers.
No, bloggers need other bloggers to blog. As sounding boards. As empathy boards. As triggers for subconscious posts. As guides for things they didn't know existed. As benchmarks for the levels of literary/comic/sarcastic brilliance possible. As markers for what already exists out there, and what else they could write about.
I've realised I used to blog more (and better) when there the other bloggers I read also blogged frequently. Heck, that's why I began blogging - because I liked what others were posting, and wanted to add to the fun and craziness. I see my posts from 18 months back, and they're prolific and diverse and (compared to recent posts) experimental. And that's because there was such a strong peer group then. Anki, BM/OTP, Baby and Puppy, CS, Falsie, Flaffy, KM, Ph, Pri, Punkster, Reno, Roswitha, Scout, Space, Szer, The Bride, TR, Wiseling....everyone was blogging a lot, and blogging about diverse things*. Now - well, now KM and The Bride are still going strong, but Space has episodes, Falsie's still in Etudes mode, Szer's going pictorial-only, Pri's going on and on about some cheesy soap-opera where people pretend to be able to sing, and everybody else...well (TR's excused because of the sprog). And yes, there are other blogs one reads and interacts with it now, but these were the first ones I did, and they left their mark.
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining and all.
And so returns a place of...well, not hope, but of - Withering sarcasm. Nautanki. And heart-achingly personal outbursts. The kinds that make you squirm at being exposed to so much, so intimately, but which you can't stop reading, because it reminds you of who you were/are/could have been, and because you cannot cease to be amazed at the fortitude it must take to be able to declare it all publicly.
But most of all, a blog that's brilliant.
And so, without further ado, the event you have all been waiting for, the spectacle to end all spectacles, the one thing that was missing from your lives even though you did not know it, featuring the return of the Queen of Melodrama, the Empress of Confessions, the girl who put the 'ingapo' in Singapore, the Blogger Most Extraordinare....
Cue total dhinchaak band-baaja music. No, seriously, we love cheesy.
Go give her your love.
I've come to the conclusion that bloggers are pack animals.
This is the silence of countless words
lounging in their corners;
One more chance away from still
This is the emptiness of a million dreams
haunting empty imaginations;
Tricksters who fail to delude
This is the loneliness of a dozen friendships
huddling against the comfort;
Browsers, flippiing through a book with
too many faces.
Labels: Thoughts in Flow
Certain sounds (specifically voices) made in the open are more distinct when heard from inside a quiet room, than if heard from on the road.
Reason? Walls and windows filter out sounds of certain frequencies, leaving those sounds that do filter through to become more noticeable and hence, more attuned to. However, when the same sounds are heard whilst standing outside the room, they get mingled with all the other sounds going on (which are now not filtered), causing the ears to not so intently tune into them.
Labels: A Manual of Life
For best results, squeeze from the bottom and flatten as you go upwards....
ya right. just so you can make more money eh? what what? of course! i know physics okay, and i know you know i will have more control if i started near the top because then i would end up squeezing out less paste than if i tried to manipulate that whole flolloping tube from the bottom, and you dont want me to do that because then i would be using one tube for longer and you wouldnt like that would you, ohyes-mr.investor-look-our-sales-grew-sixgazillionpercent-this-quarter. you want me to use more, even though we both know it doesnt help and i would still have to go to that damn toothdriller every six months only to be poked into and twisted around and sighed over. what happened to your cleanerwhiterstronger formula there huh? why do these black holes keep springing up and sucking up my nice gnashers eh? why does it not matter how much i use - and yes i tried squeezing from the bottom you sanctimonious cow you...............oh. ohhhhh. you bastard. you wanted me to use more because the more i use the more foamy it gets and while i'm going oooh-so-tingly all thats happening is that it's actually attacking all the things that keeps my jaw strong. you know this, and those quacks i go to know this, and that is why they tell me to brush more, because you cooked up this scheme together, and all you capitalist pigs care about is your big bonuses and yeh-baby-first-class-travel on company holidays.
.....you utter utter bastards.
Q: What did the (very) young Pakistani entrepreneur name the "special" style of tea that he sold in Bombay*?
Q: What would you call a range of hair-growth inducing herbal teas?
And I'm not the only one with steeped leaves on my mind today.
* If you've never been to the UK, is a pun on this.
** Youth, or child, in Marathi.
It's been a year and a quarter since I put up one of these. Quite the surprise death, and this despite my promise to share the tofu cheesecake recipe. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was because some people made fun of one of my favourite combinations.
For newcomers - this is not a chef's course. This is about (relatively) quick and uncomplicated dishes that look gorgeous and taste delightful. Also, calories don't exist (in the sense that they don't matter because we ignore them).
As long as it takes.
Slices of good, soft, white bread*.
Cucumbers, peeled and sliced
Lettuce (any except Iceberg)
Hot & sweet Tomato chilli sauce
Green tabasco/Spicy Jalapeno sauce
Butter one side of every slice. Generously. Screw the recession and your waistline, this is a Sandwich!
Apply the three spreads to the slices (one to each slice), so that you have an even number of each. Team them up in any of the following combinations - hummus and chutney, mayo and chutney, mustard and mayo, mustard and chutney.
Try triple-decking them. The order could be - mayo (bottom-most), mustard (underside of slice two), chutney (topside of slice two), and hummus (underside of slice three).
Then add in the veggies, with large slivers of cheese. Ensure the tomatoes go with hummus, cucumbers never go with the mayo, and the cheese does not mix with mustard.
Add your sauces, avoiding ketchup with hummus, and the spicy jalapeno with mustard. Crush some fresh black pepper.
Insert any other ready filling of your choice - boiled eggs, omelettes, meat slices, corn fritters, potato patties, smoked salmon....anything except a full-blown burger.
Cover. Slice - diagonally, length-wise, breadth-wise, into quarters.
Why you should try this:
A good sandwich is not just made, it is created. It is a work of love, and art, and nuances. It is about delicate introductions made with the aim of forging lasting bonds. It demands thought, and devotion, and attention.
Not for us the random slapdash affair of stuffing the most convenient edible item between two slices, to be swallowed down with a cup of tepid tea or coffee whilst surfing the latest ramblings of somebody you still harbour suspicions about not being who their blogger profile claims they are.
No. This is about a well-crafted piece of nuanced flavours that delight in complementing each other, and more so, in satisfying you with every just-enough bite that you chew your thoughtful way through, even as you marvel at the wondrous spectacle that you hold.
This is not just about the sandwich. This is about you.
You could add red onions, or boiled beetroot, or even grated carrots.
But you'd be a philistine if you did.
* Wholemeal is fine and healthy. Malted and soda breads are intriguing for the palate. A proper ciabatta is divine. Crusty bread is yum for dipping into tea. But a truly great sandwich needs soft, white, who-cares-how-unhealthy-it-is, oh-this-is-so-amazing-I-even-ate-the-crusts bread. This is just how it is. Do not fight the force.
** Always with the butter. Please stop making me repeat this. And not margarine. Butter.
*** Ideally a medium Cheddar, Red Leicester, or Gruyere. Something flavourful but not overpowering. No blue cheeses, mozzarella, or goats cheese.
....continued from here.
You almost never hear the epithet 'bastard' being hurled abusively at a woman, do you? It's always a man who's one. It's almost as if it's de facto rule, which is rather strange, given that in the purest sense, both genders can be born to the title.
Is it something about the word, perhaps? Maybe the hard ending syllable that makes it feel more masculine? (hmmm...could words themselves have genders? Find linguist. Discuss.)
Or is it a subsconscious way of balancing the scale, given that there's one definitive abusive term for females ('bitch'), but there isn't for males? Like the way we've almost-universally allocated the word gay to mean only male homosexuals, even though it defines both.
I mean, Gay and Lesbian Parade/Ball/Rights? Redundant usage, surely (although I can see why it might have been done - it probably made it less of a shocker to the fence-sitters than if it were announced as a Homosexual Parade). Come to think about it, even the word homosexual is now more or less coopted by males of such a persuasion. People mostly seem to declare themselves to be hetero-, homo- or lesbian.
...Ok that's it. Go do your own thinking now.
Edit: Some of the comments reminded me that I might have posted something related to this a while back. And I was right. Apparently, I'm now down to recycling old content.
Labels: Lingua Lingua
...actually, this one really is fpoor, because it's not ready.
I know there's got to be a Q&A joke about your one and only* and this chain, but I haven't been able to figure it out in three weeks, and it's driving me crazy.
So, a hazy pun for you.
Also, yes. (Major) Groan.
* For those who don't get it, please to be reading her blog. Ok fine, be lazy. Husband 'Bill' comes from Tagore-land.
Now go read her blog.