Isthmus of Ignatz

Brick by Brick

Thursday, March 30, 2006

A Shipful of Cats. And One Dog.


Presenting the blog for the cat lovers of bangalore: A Shipful of Cats. And One Dog. at the blog: http://catsofbangalore.blogspot.com/ This is the definitive cat club of Bangalore and is the creation of 'Y' who will start posting pics of her vivaciouss cats very soon. All ye please post the escapades and identities of your cats here and shoot me a mail to put you on as a member immediately!!
We hope to organize the highly sought-after cat prowls regularly.
***
Now look what I did? I invited the c-lovers to this blog instead of the cat blog.
Damm. Fish.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

It really does pay to unbelong.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

There's a play tonight at Opus. Where will I goed? Or just drip on Koshys? I still think Koshy's is a depressingly morose place, with the mostly hangdog waiters nursing grudges in the kitchen and snatching matchboxes from tables with girls who smoke. Thats what happened last time. The waiter just ambled up, removed the matchbox and left. We had to call him after 5 minutes of hysterical laughter, one managing to say 'That was actually our matchbox.' Still its morose and depressing. Ime always slightly suicidal from Koshys unless I've been heady. I can read the mind of every waiter there. They desperetely need some topless waitresses who must be feisty - no point if theyre hangdog - to pinch bottoms of women and shimmy on the painfully square pillars. Wait maybe they need crossdressing topless waitors.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

I cannot for the wile of me stay awake at work today. What could I have done to dserve this? Nothing - I came back home early yesterday after buying a devastingly perfect Nigerian statuette on wood street and went to sleep by 10. So why am I this sleepy? And yet I am sitting erect at this workcorner with my eyes torn open and bleeding fumes. i dont think I can make it till even 6. bie bie.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

I'll be driving around in this in Cuba

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

A Tridimensional Map of Manhattan


Have always believed that the truth of the physical world lies somewhere along the many paths that cross disciplines, on an interstice or whole stretch or ragged zag or combinations therein therout in extensions. And to blissfully biased, i think its somewhere in the space of the intersections of the subjects: architecture, typography, and interactivity the very interests of Brazilian Juliana Sato Yamashita who's studied Architecture & Urbanism and Interactive Telecommunications.(i would also add music, anthro and gender studies to the listing). Searchscapes is her work - a tridimensional map of Manhattan to compare representations of the city’s “physical spaces” and “information spaces”. This is specifically what some of the representations were constructed on:
a specific address is searched on Google (ex: “1 Broadway” + “New York, NY”)... The total number of text results is parsed and then plotted on a map of the physical space. The height of the “building” on that location will correspond to the number of results found. More results will correspond to higher “information buildings”. This is an attempt to materialize information: to give it dimension, physicality. This project is an attempt to give “shape” to the data that we find on the Internet, but not “quantify”.
In one of her other projects - Urban Fragments(in 3 versions) - she takes the city of Sao Paolo in a whole other experimen - Italo Calvino comes in somewhere. Above all its the subjects she sits on and shows. See her work at her site.

Really believe that the truth behind all the brouhaha over the openheartedness and generosity of the indian, is that you only have to scratch the surface. just take the 'sapad aiche/oot aitha?' question, noone wants to hear ur reply and theyre not about to offer u their food and if they do whats hanging and implied? Its precarious and notorious if uve been in that rig; be on level with me but just watch how things change when you choose to step away from the dynamic of headnodding-familiarity and shared situation. This in a sense is a very 'American' (as opposed to European) thing. To quote from 'A Social History of Cheerfulness' by Christina Kotchemidova -
The author (of a popular 1940s book of advice to German immigrants on the American ways of speech and behavior) cautions incoming Germans against misinterpreting American friendliness for genuine interest in their persona and then suffering disappointment as nothing ensues from the initial all-too-encouraging contact. While the book deals mainly with behaviors, it also characterizes American emotionality as over-positive and self-centered—from a German perspective.

Monday, March 13, 2006

She looked on politely at his potbelly and asked, "What is that?"
He replied in perfect step, "It's a table".
"Then let us lay it," she declared.

Yesterday at koshys - on the way out dammit - saw this absolutely steel hot dude. Must have been 40, gayish, gray and totally 'it'. Like I havent seen since centuries. He was with a girl, but I would have easily knocked her down like I've been doing in a couple of places. Meanwhile my own gayish grayish highlights are falling nicely into place. Will he see we're so made for undoing eachother; i get the feeling i'm going to see him again. i lie in wait.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

less femmes en travail ici are fucking unbearable.
forming their stupid lunch-time clique; with their silly hubby-bubby concerns, housemaking, preening in their self-satisifed aunty status and gossip about new chappals, jewellery, bedsheets and nightime teehees. i could never laugh at their apalling jokes, some shit-panelled teasing that made no fucking sense. i could play along only once and then it had to drop. lunch with them? hell no. now i stand at the manipal deli, somersaulting and delighting with my (flicked) castanedas and new scientist. this has to qualify as bliss. aaaaaaah.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

The perpetually jigging right leg of the dumb fuck sitting next to me at vork became more than I could take yesterday. When did all this fuckuks start? - some 2 weeks back when I had my legs spreadeagled in my own area while at work, he walked back from the loo and before bumming onto his seat, leaned over in the swing and touched me with a finger on my upperleg and said 'sorry' like it was all planned. Being stoned as I was, I didnt register or react to what the hell had happened. Well that saved his fucking dick, if I were my normal self then. But instead, he's had to pay the dumbfuck price ever since. smashed his hand with a heavy book one hour later when I came to and was shifting books, pushed his screen to the extreme other end and slammed his leg with a chair as I passed by. But his face and jigging was more than I could take, so finally moved out to the other side. Rama fuicking christ. I still want to kill. Anyone want to die?

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

For a more tempered and level account of other events that took place on the Chikmagalur trip, read misch's account - Drive to Sakleshpur and Beyond

Monday, March 06, 2006

Partying youth found asleep among tender cocunuts in Chikmagalur


In a morbid calamity that has sent Bangalore's high-profile partying community reeling, two youthful(local?) women were found asleep in the car they were driving in somewhere on the highway between Chikmagalur and Bangalore. The possibility of accident or attack has been ruled out as neither the car nor the persons within bore any signs of damage. Informed sources and witnesses in the area where the bodies were found told reporters that they had initially suspected nothing that afternoon when a modest maruti pulled up to their makeshift yelaneer/nariyal pani stall on the otherwise deserted tree-fringed highway. The owner of the yelaneer stall stated that the 2 genial female occupants of the car had initially asked for 2 tender coconuts. The witness says they seem to have relished the yelaneer leaving only the shells, one of which was gnawed(!). He adds that the girls were well-mannered but that the one at the wheel seemed to have issues, when at one point she protested to the stall's assistant who was handing over the coconuts, instructing not to spill the neer on them when handing the nuts, as the neer left stains which were hard to hand-wash. More significantly, they repeated their orders for tender cocunuts. The stall owner adds, "We were slightly worried when they placed their sixth double order for yelaneer. But in less than 20 minutes, our stall was left with only 3 dried-out cocunuts. After a while they steered the car a few feet to cool off under the shade of a tree where they began reading books and magazines. I remember some music was also playing in the car; the same music again and again. they must have been oofi". The area around the car was littered with the empty tender coconuts.

While the lady at the wheel spoke distunguished maybe even classical Kannada, witnesses say the other seemed aloof and disinclined to say anything at all to the stall owner likely on account of her poor grasp on any language. When pressed to speak at one point while negotiating the nut's price, the latter spoke some appalling muffled Kannada adding wrong tamil words with mismatching hand gestures. Both occupants, though female, were clothed in pant-shirt, a fact which may witnesses from the area aver, was a certain indication of their dubious moral standards. However they pleaded in favour of the higher moral standards of the girl who spoke classical Kannada as opposed to the wilfully ignorant other.

Police reports state that the youths' last words before passing out in their sleep were "KK Krishnamurthy" and "KK Menon?". (Of all things). The postmortem report states cause of death to be 'overdose of yelaneer'. In recent months, yelaneer has emerged as toxin-elixir of choice among a disaffected section of bangalore's socialist middle class youth who have shunned traditionally fashionable opioid-analgesics that are niche, over-priced and imitatory. The social specimens in the car that afternoon, however, had tried to straddle both the world of socialism and the world of moderate free-marketing. Such social specimens have been proved even in the past, to fall awkwardly in the gaps between more established segments, with limbs sticking out or underwear snagging on a branch.

Closer inspection of the pair by a leading investigative agency has shown that their youth was merely a veneer as they were largely greying at the roots, regularly touching up their tint with L'oreal and Schwarzkopf respectively. Chitra A, a leading social commentator, has bemoaned this promising but in-between social strata's abandon to a life of clumsy debauchery and desperate hedonism. It is worth noting that before hitting the road to Chikmagalur on a whim, the pair were last seen in the elite 'blooh baah', where one grimaced through a blue margarita, while the other was reported to have drained an unspecified, close to countless, number of large Smirnoffs. When interviewed, some high-profile patrons of the blooh baah admitted to having noticed the pair, noting they were dressed in what can only be described as 'rags'. A waiter also admitted that it was clear that the 2 were living beyond their means when they openly fumbled with coins to scrabble together that night's 750-a-head cover charge. The waiter said he had tried to persuade them to use the money to meet their daily needs instead. He added that they refused his advise, at one stage even threatening violence with chappals, at which point he relented.

Friends report they never knew there was anything wrong and that the one behind the wheel was notoriously outgoing and level-headed, though dreamy-eyed. The other occupant, however, seemed to draw conflicting responses from those who knew her, with reactions ranging from 'the fuckhead deserves it!' to 'she was the greatest!'. Some unconfirmed reports are also giving this matter a political spin, suggesting that they were deliberately liquidated (poisoined) at the behest of the head of a leading political party on account of their possible pro-Naxal leanings, in context of the growing influence of Naxalism in the region. They are reported to have spoken to some of the workers on a coffee estate in Chikamagalur. The longer of the 2 was alleged to have been offered a roll of paan by one of the workers, an action that raised the heckles of the agitated workers' manager, who took it to be a subversive Naxal code. The manager informs that the 2 left immediately after this.

However if facial expressions at sleep are anything to go by, these 2 were likely most certainly destined for a kind of coffee-estate paradise. Their expressions were cherubic and cheery with a hint of having fought the good fight. Could it be that these 2 young bloods were the potential che and castro of an increasingly capitalistic Karnataka, nipped in the bud of their bloom?
The truth, may never be known.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

I just died. And I've gone back to smoking.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Jimminy, Jimminy, chip on my knee

Sometimes people make the most powerful statements when theyve put nothing into words. And so was it the case with mother's power of wordless but maybe unintended persuasion on the subject of the cricket. cricket - the insect like a miniature grasshopper. while our child instincts directed us as toddlers to be jumpy or vampish with insects, we were particularly sure that we would like to jump as much as a cricket and fake outrage in the presence of one. But more than thrice, we observed that when mother and a cricket were around with our instincts and kid persons, we were compelled to look up to her face and find that her eyes found an established gravity. Her eyes directed us to be solemn. Her aura told us we were in the definite presence of something silent and divine. It must not be touched, troubled or distracted in its momentous way. Tweetypots, our eldest sister bot, was sometimes found cupping a cricket in her sepal palms, even before mum had made indications. I guess it took an eye and age to know some truth. Now for some reason as the toddler trio, we identified each cricket by the very personalized name of Jimminy. 'Theres a Jimminy in my shoe!' 'There a Jimminy in the cupboard!' and so on. The point that must not be forgotten above all, is that, we were solemn and serious in their mystical and deified company. So it was that yesterday as I sat on the chamberpot in the morning, only 10 cm ahead of me, was presnted the backside view of a dapper cricket. It had the texture and color of a chip of hazelnut wood. I dont know why it chose to show me its backside. Maybe I had show it mine once. But iggy became solemn and proceeded decorously. It wasnt until yesterday night that it struck me that that little view of the backside of the cricket was an image whose spirit had squatted upon my perception that whole day. Until i remembered it again that night.
The might of a cricket.