tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37662383882020121082024-02-19T15:46:27.998+05:30We the Write stuff.Now and Then.Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-21269878347497460792011-04-07T03:36:00.005+05:302011-04-07T04:23:37.786+05:30The Republic of SachinIm not a cricket fan. I know the sport, because I'm an Indian. You cannot call yourself an Indian if you dont know the game. It's in our blood. But like me, there are some who are allowed to find the sport tedious. Oh so tedious. But being a continent away from home, the city that houses Sachin Tendulkar, stirs up a passion in the sport you'd otherwise ignore. To break it down: Living in the UK has taught me many things about myself, but most of all, it taught me a love of cricket and an understanding to why it's my nation's passion and in its prayers. The morning of the final, my significant other's heavy metal alarm started ringing at an hour where light hadnt really made an appearance. For a change, he put it off himself, and frantically started typing on his iPhone. Instead of kicking him, telling him to go to sleep or just flat-out ignoring him, I found myself asking, from the sincerest part of my half-asleep brain, "Who won the toss?" It didnt occur to me that he could have been checking something else. It was day of the final. And it was being played in our home. He couldnt have been checking anything else. It didnt even occur to me that cricket is not normally something that would emerge from my almost-unconscious. This game was more to me than just a World Cup. The passion of the sport exuded enough energy to tie me back to home. London has many virtues and I love it with all my heart. But it comes nowhere close to the energy of India, something that makes me wilt on even the most perfect of London days. When we stepped out of the house, it was one of those most perfect of London days - where people wriggle their shoulders in the sunshine, the daffodils are dancing, and scores of Indian students are grinning all over the streets, the colours of the flag painted on their faces. We found ourselves in a basement bar, where the flag emblazoned the walls as well as the faces of strangers+friends who like us, had come to spend a good many hours alternating between pumping our fists and swearing. We spoke to friends. We laughed at the Sri Lankans. We drank Coke. We drank beer. We painted our faces. We checked out the opposite sex. We laughed at the ads. We cheered. We cursed. And all of us, all the time, prayed that we would win. For Sachin, for his last World Cup. I dont believe in religion, but I do believe in Sachin. His name means pure. He is our national treasure, the cleanest one we own. If you belong to India, you belong to the <a href="http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=110329/Cricket">Republic of Sachin.</a> It's that simple. When we won, and my significant other lifted me up, I laughed at him from the air, from a blurry haze of blissful faces. As I twirled air-fully in his arms, I felt the burdens of bad news from home, the job market and the looming dissertation leaving my shoulders. Just for today, I would let it go. As Sachin was carried around the pitch, we all stood and bellowed the national anthem. It will forever be the kind of miracle you'd never be able to comprehend. Most of us had been born&brought up abroad, with international schooling under our belt. We hadnt been forcefed the national anthem from birth. We barely KNEW the national anthem. We could hum it, yes. Sing it, probably not so well. But somehow, from this yearning, patriotic and homesick part of us, the beautiful song came to our lips, and we sang loudly; strong in our heartfelt victory for our country. That night, as we watched from my significant others window, fireworks lit the sky above my beautiful friend, the River Thames. We were sending a message to home, us Indians a continent away. We were sending our painful regret at not being there, and a heartfelt joy&relief acknowledgment, that no-one, could be as happy as the billions of Indians scattered across the planet at that moment. Indians of the Republic of Sachin slept well that night. If they slept at all.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-363423812585755902010-12-11T01:27:00.005+05:302011-01-02T14:29:21.709+05:30Jazz, John & Collectors Records.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKO_QEITdOZrY1lViux7B0XAIbUpcfmTVoC2_KC3zHzzp6n91Sp7XCJ5vxmhU3dovdgmU_izNYmUWqnOvHPFM2GkUp-FXapH2PEb0l4yT_dMk-l9M1vUnwW1CZRC7AUfrzEZ60bH3-_QI5/s1600/John%252520Etheridge.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 304px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557498185892162082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKO_QEITdOZrY1lViux7B0XAIbUpcfmTVoC2_KC3zHzzp6n91Sp7XCJ5vxmhU3dovdgmU_izNYmUWqnOvHPFM2GkUp-FXapH2PEb0l4yT_dMk-l9M1vUnwW1CZRC7AUfrzEZ60bH3-_QI5/s400/John%252520Etheridge.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><p>Some months ago, I found myself in a personal slump. One of those unfortunate situations where nothing was really going wrong, but nothing was really going right either. So I walked the streets of Kingston, chainsmoking and desperately looking for some kind of answer. Clarity falling from the skies would have been greatly appreciated. Instead, I found myself staring at a poster for London Jazz Festival month. A beautiful festival that would begin at my local theatre with a John Etheridge showcase in a few days time. These were all signs. What else could it be?</p><p>So I clutched at this straw. Jazz would save me, like it had so many times before. I considered going alone, but the more I heard about the magic that was Etheridge, the more I realised that would be selfish. So I took my oldest friend and my newest friend, the latter who would soon become my significant other i.e. if we ever fight, I will blame Etheridge. </p><p>There three of us stood, in the rain, waiting for it to start - The Jazz Geek (me), The Metal Head (The New Friend - TNF) and The I-Love-Music-So-As-Long-As-I-Have-A-Good-Time-It's-Cool-Person (The Old Friend - TOF). I spent a few moments worrying about the grief I'd have to suffer if they both hated it, but before I could really do or say anything about it, we were sprawled on wooden steps, waiting for it to start. </p><p>I was right. Etheridge saved me. As soon as he started with a cover of Miles Davis' classic "Doxy", I felt waves of uncertainty and the burdens of personal disaster leaving my shoulders. Clarity crept into my freezing toes, and for the first time in weeks, I didnt worry or wonder about "what-if's" and "whys and wheres". </p><p>After a few songs had been performed, I ventured hesitant peeks at TNF & TOF sitting next to me, and I breathed even easier. TNF sat in silent concentration, enjoyment and understanding washing over the planes of his face with an occasional comment about how beautiful Etheridge's guitars were. TOF spent the entire evening whispering "Thats amazing, did you hear what he just did?" over and over again. </p><p>Im not saying that Etheridge saved me to the extent that my slump was resolved overnight. But his music and his humour cleared my head and replaced hyperventilation with steady breaths. A few days later I found myself calm enough to resolve my slump on my own, and I endured the loss by purchasing "Doxy" as a single and driving my flatmates crazy by keeping it on repeat for days. </p><p>When I started growing immune to the powers of "Doxy", again I found myself walking the streets of Kingston. This time with a friend who had uncovered secrets of Kingston streets that he was more than willing to share with me. So in the bitter cold, down lanes and through alleys, we walked. </p><p>And reached Collector's Records. I've been in love before. With friends, with men, with books, with albums. This is the first time I've fallen in love with a store. Records in racks and shelves and turntables to play them on before you decide to own them. We stayed till almost-closing time, discovering, exclaiming and placing on turntables. I left with Billy Joel, Simon & Garfunkel and more, tucked under my arm, beautifully preserved in their original vinyl selves - the second best thing to owning them as people, in my opinion. And they cost me less than a pack of cigarettes would have. </p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3CeleysBNjhmy128OlAneto8RTEuZNB1ysW0AD1rSNVavHEeykGVJNVX2NSA859urvxh9p7pNdD9BDAawThx_8OO8nOMAXLJEGdbOdA6JAxSq9ppItRG_T4TXJeU0fLsmhrGbgKYc81cQ/s1600/John-Etheridge-Seeet-Chorus.jpg"></a>It comes to no surprise to anyone, that my dissertation has music at its core. I came to London for inspiration and the simplicity of yayness, and I found it. In music. In jazz, my eternal saviour. In shelves of dusty records, that smell oddly like my father. In genres of music, Id always shunned but am now growing a grudging respect for, because my significant other plays it all the time, and after days of plugging my ears, I actually started to listen.<br /></div>I also realised, my experience with Etheridge, in no way applies solely to jazz. Music will always save you, as long as youre vulnerable enough to let it. Its the reason most people have internal soundtracks to&for their lives, why people listen to mood-appropriate music. We discover meaning and answers in the words and music, and adjust it to our needs. We leave our own personal imprint on the music we listen to.<br /><br />I may be immune to the powers of Doxy by now (thanks to my own excessive listening), but I'll always remember it as the song that healed me. Even years later if I find it in pristine vinyl on a dusty shelf in a dingily beautiful record store.<br /><div> </div><div>Note: WetheWriters to YoutheReaders: Happy 2011 and whatnot. </div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-74824892836445023062010-10-06T14:38:00.003+05:302010-10-06T15:12:01.726+05:30my book, your book, our book.My favourite part of London is how almost everyday is a burst of bibliomaniac joy.<br /><br />Its the small stuff, like having manic 10 hour classes, and running home to grab a few hours of shut-eye before another class at 8pm, only to be kept awake by doors slamming and loud laughing from the kitchen, only to slam my door open to lose my temper at whomever I see first, to find that a flatmate has wedged a whole pile of packages from Amazon under my door. For me, me, me.<br /><br />Its the big stuff, like trudging sleepily in the rain in my pajama's to get some coffee, only to find my tattered copy of "Howl" that I'd given up tearfully for lost, placed next to the coffee machine, with a post-it saying, <span style="font-style: italic;">"I dont know which building you're in, but I see you hovering around here all the time, so I thought this would be the best place to return it. I hope you actually find this, and if you're not you, then sod off, this doesn't belong to you"</span><br /><br />And then its the truly perfect stuff, like becoming an accidental and active participant of <a href="http://www.bookcrossing.com/">BookCrossing</a>.<br /><br />I'd heard of BookCrossing in one of my first Publishing classes, where 60-odd book geeks including myself, gathered to talk about how reading is a community - a dying community in some respects, but for those who love to read, an exciting community nonetheless.<br /><br />BookCrossing, essentially, is the "the practice of leaving a book in a public place to be picked up and read by others, who then do likewise." I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard of, and it gave me, and the other people sitting around me, goosebumps just thinking about it. We all told our professor, that it sounded almost too good to be true, and it was probably just one of those things, like the Tooth Fairy, who you truly believe is real, just because you want to believe it, when deepdown, you know its a parent who is the real Tooth Fairy. She nodded wisely, and said, "Wait and see, you won't see it coming"<br /><br />And then, a few days ago, I got onto a bus and sat on a book. I hardly ever do this, since books are my personal God and religion, and well, you don't normally sit on your God. When I got up, it was a much worn copy of "The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop", which is one of those books you've always thought you should read, but it was either out of stock, or too expensive, and along the journey of all the other books you've wanted painfully, you sort of pushed it at the back of your mind. On the book, was a note stapled to the cover, "Read this and pass it on" and on the title page, were the initials of all the people who'd read it and the dates they'd found it.<br /><br />I forgot I had a tottering pile of textbooks to wade through by the next day, forgot that I had groceries to buy, food to cook, laundry to do, trash to take out. I forgot social commitments and Skype dates. I forgot that it was raining and that my heater wasn't working and I was, to put it mildly, freezing. I forgot about Stoner Sam and his Stonery Sammy ways. I had been crossed with a book and nothing else mattered.<br /><br />I passed it on last night. I left it on a table at the cafe I usually frequent. Before I left, the proprietor grinned at me and said, "You've picked prime property there, honey. That book knows that table well" <br /><br />That book, knows more people and places than I do. And Im grateful I got to know it, and that it has KM 4-10-2010 permanently embedded in its pages.<br /><br />Note: A very Appy Birday to the old man of the blog, Harry from WetheUs and well, everyone who reads us etc.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-49922450561235536932010-07-15T10:47:00.001+05:302010-07-15T10:49:40.158+05:30It's a Bird Day!Ello All<br /><br />It's Tejas' Birthday. Wooptedoo dah. Wish him or kiss him.Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-83873356753114594182010-04-17T09:44:00.008+05:302010-04-17T10:46:00.187+05:30Sigh! Why art thou so?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNsNF7FMTkakO72LmkN8wZECkrf5BYOA3RaVirgr374B_sgu9YqSxdgVprxMJS61nPRXwZLNtWdd22B8LyGaz8F4ayuyVc7WjtmDwz5btC35_Z8WSc0oRoioTlwJEliOaT5j0iOypHqI/s1600/Y.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNsNF7FMTkakO72LmkN8wZECkrf5BYOA3RaVirgr374B_sgu9YqSxdgVprxMJS61nPRXwZLNtWdd22B8LyGaz8F4ayuyVc7WjtmDwz5btC35_Z8WSc0oRoioTlwJEliOaT5j0iOypHqI/s400/Y.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460970677037521186" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Yesterday was a bad day.</span> A surreal experience for me, since I had one of those moments where Art somewhat saved me. A bit. It was a perfect marriage of the emotions I had, and the emotions I felt after experiencing the art.<br />I lost my phone yesterday.<br />This is the second time in 9 months, I think. I have recently lost my kickass iPod that my sister gifted me, which had tremendous sentimental value, my nephew's mp3 player and my mom's flash drive. Yes, I'm an idiot and no this is not for sympathy. This is about the connection of art and how it manages to dig in to you, through all the clutter and crap you may have inside you and still carve a small nichè for itself amongst all the baggage you carry.<br /><br />Yesterday I re-read a series that I had stopped through halfway a while ago, and had not managed to complete it. It happened like this. I lost my phone in the morning, moped for a while, then went to landmark by 1 pm and sat there reading for a good 7 hours. There is something liberating about being cut-off from the rest of the world. In my state of mind, it almost felt good, that I could escape having to tell people how dumb I felt because I lost my phone, ironically because there <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> no way to tell them. I did not even have the strength to feel sorry for myself or just plainly ask 'Why?'<br /><br />Thus I sat and read <span style="font-weight: bold;">Y: The Last Man.</span><br /><br />Y is about Yorick Brown (and his capuchin Ampersand) the only man to survive a plague that strikes all the Y-chromosome carrying mammals(namely all males) around the world simultaneously, killing them instantly. Whats left is broken infrastructres, plane crashes, food shortages, and a whole lot of women. How Yorick survives these conditions plus a bunch of crazy chicks who are either trying to sleep with him or kill him forms the rest of the story. Needless to say a story as epic as this, has to be thought out well and thought out well is exactly what it is. In 60 issues Brian K. Vaughn manages to tell the story at a decent pace, progressing with the plot while still holding the attention of the reader. Obviously it is filled with great allegory, and social commentary but is undoubtedly and ironically going to be viewed as masogynistic and yes, chauvinistic. However Vaughn bypasses all that and continues with his story about the last man trying to reunite with his girlfriend in Australia.<br /><br />But Yorick- the average everyman, still seeking his true love not knowing whether she's alive or dead, and a huge responsibility on his shoulder is someone I could definitely identify with at that moment. No, I am not the last man on earth, but at that point of shame, I wished I could just be alone, or run away. It probably sounds highly dramatic, but <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> my friends, <span style="font-style: italic;">is the power of art!</span> In 7 hours I immersed myself in <span style="font-style: italic;">Y</span> and questioned myself as he did, that is reclusiveness what we really want? or is it really the complete opposite? Maybe we just want to be accepted no matter what we do, and while that would be great, it is not fair at all to shy away from the responsibilities that each of us possess. <span style="font-style: italic;">Alas, Poor Yorick, I knew him!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! </span>- (Hamlet, V.i)<br /><br />I keep giving this one example of how I always listen to Billy Joel before an audition, or before facing any 'music'. Why? Because for some reason hearing his voice is the equivalent of having someone older or someone I trust saying to me "It's alright Tejas. Just get in there and do your best and know I'm right behind you". Very Uncle Ben.<br />Sigh.<br />Uncle Ben, why do <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> miss him so much?<br /><br />Comic back to the point. The marriage of art and the person who experiences it, is a very personal moment. It's like family, <span style="font-style: italic;">literally</span>. Because every person has their own experience when they are in contact with the art. I cannot expect anyone to have the same feelings or emotions I did when I read it, it is probably not going to happen. But maybe you will have it with something else, maybe a great album, or a great painting, when you are at another emotional level. And it'll cause you so much pain or joy or emotions you can't even describe. It's truly awesome.<br /><br />That my friends is the power of art!Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-47075362580793134022010-04-13T21:21:00.005+05:302010-04-13T21:39:43.020+05:30Goodbye, Jennifer Crusie.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-hB6DOgOE86qq3cPwK_ODp8jPLk_NMNKZupBQh4UR3YoT7qsVwQA37KfM2Jkeo2s2EOQ3tnbtYrzDtKTYP6c_LkPM2qcdmkTS3a06DgrwNBWhPukeNWe7J03M1njtxKWVu33mQ2wPh4N/s1600/fakingit.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459652064764686082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-hB6DOgOE86qq3cPwK_ODp8jPLk_NMNKZupBQh4UR3YoT7qsVwQA37KfM2Jkeo2s2EOQ3tnbtYrzDtKTYP6c_LkPM2qcdmkTS3a06DgrwNBWhPukeNWe7J03M1njtxKWVu33mQ2wPh4N/s400/fakingit.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I’m a sucker for chick lit, as Ive mentioned <a href="http://wethewritestuff.blogspot.com/2009/04/coming-out-of-chick-lit-closet_6560.html">before</a>. But there is one author, who deserves far more than the slightly condescending tag of “Oh her? She just writes chick-lit.” Jennifer Crusie is one of the smarter, and funnier authors on my bookshelves. And well, I have a lot of books on a lot of bookshelves, so you really have to believe me. </div><div><br />The first Crusie book I picked up was “Faking it”, and to my eternal shame, the only reason I bought it was because the cover was incredible. I read it much later, and couldn’t believe I’d let this book simmer on my shelves untouched. Its been 6-7 years since I first read it, and it is still one of the most influential books in my life. It taught me more about relationships, about music and about art than most of the “serious fiction” on my shelves. I adopted many theories put forth in the book as my own, and one idea especially, I repeat in my head on a regular basis, especially when I know I'm going to be doing something I really shouldn’t be doing : <strong>"If you can’t be a good example, you’ll just have to be a horrible warning."</strong> So before I do anything terrible, I always ask myself if I really want to be a horrible warning. So yes, Gwen Goodnight, one of the books many protagonists, really did give me more sense than I give myself credit for. </div><div><br />After that, my search for Crusie has never ceased. For some reason, she isn’t readily available in most mainstream bookstores, and most people have to resort to Amazon to get her into their lives. I am not an Amazon fan myself, and instead, happily settle for the great and irreplaceable high you get when you find a much-loved author in random places i.e the last few times I found her was in the Cochin airport bookshop hidden behind Orhan Pamuk and in a cardboard carton on a Dubai street. </div><div><br />The best part about Crusie, is that none of her heroines are very physically attractive. So, you relate to them, and you love them unconditionally, instead of being slightly in awe and a little resentful. Some of them are overweight, some have mad hair and glasses, and they like to eat, they like to drink, they have bad tempers and are blessedly human and as far from perfect as you can get. They become your best friends and you actually listen to what they have to say. Instead of having incredible bodies, swishy hair and perfect skin, they have a sense of humour and intelligence that is approachable, not overwhelming. </div><div><br />The second best thing about Crusie will only be visible to the loyalists who have read more than one of her books. She hides symbols, signs and messages, (cherries, dove bars and I'm not going to reveal anymore) in almost all her books that make you feel connected to her and her mind. You’ll read it and you’ll know instantly that it’s a Crusie book and you like you’re part of a closely knit circle of warmth and humour; like you’re part of a secret club where everyone understands and knows you. </div><div><br />I have recently waded my way through all of Crusie’s books, and “Faking it” is still my favourite, followed closely by its prequel (yes, I read it backwards, I didn’t know at the time), “Welcome to Temptation.” The best thing about finally going through all of Crusie, is the blissful yayness she provided. The worst thing about finally going through all of her, is that now I’m done. I’ll never again feel that almost unbearable joy finding her in strange places, and I’ll never again feel that agonizing restlessness to open a Crusie book I haven’t read before. I lingered over the last book, reading the same page twice or thrice, knowing painfully, that this was it, and once I finished this, there’d be no more – especially since Crusie has publicly announced that she’s stopping her romances, and she’s only doing collaborations now. I’ve read one of her collaboration, and its lacking the Crusie spark, diluted as it is by someone else’s words alongside hers. </div><div><br />It’s a strange sort of grief, knowing that my relationship with a person Ive never met has reached its end. She always made me laugh when I thought I never would again, she was the woman who introduced me to Dusty Springfield oh-so many years ago, the one who taught me the difference between muffins, donuts and men, who proved over and over again that personality trumps the physical any day, and how important it is to be able to laugh at life, and at yourself. </div><div><br />Goodbye, Jennifer Crusie. My bookshelves and my life are more memorable and far more worthwhile, having known you. </div><div align="center"><br />“When Eve ate the apple/Her knowledge increased/But God liked dumb women/So Paradise ceased” – Jennifer Crusie/Gwen Goodnight in Faking it. </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><strong>Note:</strong> WeTheWriters would like to apologise muchly for the lack of updates on this blog. We have been very busy being very busy, and while I'm sure that's not a good enough excuse, we'd like to think it is. And we are mostest and muchlest sorry and all that. </div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-23981975209329853332010-02-17T18:17:00.004+05:302010-02-17T18:56:16.622+05:30Clouds in my Coffee: How Carly & Dusty Saved My Soul<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJZhDwDFGqsAnHfADjNGC6J6jWvT3v4LiMf2teebtFpReSX2wsUKEK_4KY17imE9GvpT9qPANODueNlw-pHDhTMku9CKENleaYTX70b8QNQPw9dAeI1jYDvrj4RKLggnwHAu1NjFg-gYa/s1600-h/clouds_in_my_coffee.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439193755808615138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJZhDwDFGqsAnHfADjNGC6J6jWvT3v4LiMf2teebtFpReSX2wsUKEK_4KY17imE9GvpT9qPANODueNlw-pHDhTMku9CKENleaYTX70b8QNQPw9dAeI1jYDvrj4RKLggnwHAu1NjFg-gYa/s400/clouds_in_my_coffee.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I have mentioned before that I can't sing to save my life. This isn't entirely true. I can't sing like Tejas can, or like Harry can. I can't sing like Norah Jones or KT Tunstall. I can't sing for other people, I can't sing to play the fool into karaoke machines. But I can sing, when I really really need to, when it seems like the right thing to do, and when my voice chooses to ignore my brain telling it that it's a terrible voice and not to humiliate me.<br /><br />Carly Simon and Dusty Springfield have/had voices and wrote music that most current female artists can only dream of having/writing. When they sing, the emotion and the rawness, blares through and heals wounds, and you know, that if you have emotion and rawness, and wounds that need to be healed, then you can sing too. These women are/were brave, are/were independent, are/were magic from the moment they opened their mouths. Their music is/was the kind of music that you can imagine old men sitting on park benches and nodding their heads wisely over, saying "They dont make voices like that anymore" And they don't. They really don't make voices like that anymore.<br /><br />For the past month, I have let Carly and Dusty save my soul. Imitating Brittany Murphy in "Little Black Book", I lie on my bathroom floor and belt out Carly Simon. Im alone at home, and I sound good, because Im singing my soul out, letting the wounds heal. In my room, at night, I snuggle up to the words of Dusty, crooning her words softly to myself. I lie spreadeagled on an empty beach and sing about clouds in my coffee and the son of a preacherman, while watching the clouds above me rearrange themselves and float away, leaving me cleansed and clear.<br /><br />I am now <strong><span style="color:#000066;">wishin' and hopin'. </span></strong>I have fewer <span style="color:#330099;"><strong>clouds in my coffee</strong></span>. I look forward to the <span style="color:#333399;"><strong>look of love. </strong></span>I have <strong><span style="color:#000066;">no secrets</span></strong>. I can tell myself that <strong><span style="color:#330099;">I haven't got time for the pain</span></strong>. I <strong><span style="color:#000099;">close my eyes and count to ten</span></strong>. And, I am <strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">anticipating</span></strong>, that <span style="color:#000066;"><strong>little by little</strong></span><span style="color:#000000;">, </span>I'll know <strong><span style="color:#000099;">just what to do with myself. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><span style="color:#000000;">So, thank you, Carly & Dusty, Simon & Springfield. For giving me the strength to sing, and for letting me know that my soul is worthwhile enough to be saved by both of you.</span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000066;">"You know when you take the paint off an old canvas and you discover that something's been painted underneath it? That's what I feel like - that part of the old is coming through the new" - Carly Simon</span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000066;">"I just decided I wanted to become someone else... So I became someone else" - Dusty Springfied</span></div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-58500860679794686192010-01-19T19:03:00.004+05:302010-01-19T19:50:13.068+05:30Invictus: A Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.bvonmovies.com/media/2009/12/invictus-poster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 413px;" src="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.bvonmovies.com/media/2009/12/invictus-poster.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Ello All<div><br /></div><div>This'll be a short one again. </div><div>Invictus, for those who haven't been waiting anxiously, is the story of how Nelson Mandela asked the South African National Rugby team, the Springboks to win the 1995 Rugby World Cup. </div><div><br /></div><div>Morgan Freeman plays Nelson Mandela. Matt Damon plays the team Captain Francois Pienaar and to round it all up, Clint Eastwood has directed it. </div><div><br /></div><div>As you can imagine, it's hard to conceive of anything going wrong with the movie. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fact of the matter is, not a whole lot goes right. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a tremendous story and the dedication to facts in set design and screenplay is phenomenal. Even the actors (In fact they are Rugby players themselves) playing Rugby legends Chester Williams and Jonah Lumu are thoroughly genuine. </div><div><br /></div><div>But for some reason something like 90% of the films actors are either local actors or just locals. While that certainly seems like a good authentic idea, honestly, it killed the movie for me. True the accents were real and true it's a novel approach, but there was no charm, no feel and therefore just flat delivery. Fact of the matter is, while it's interesting to try 'real', on camera it just came off as even more 'fake.' A bad fake. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even the proper actors, failed to impress me. Matt Damon, possibly trying to be a closer rendition of Pienaar was not a typical film 'team captain'. He was downplayed and quite refreshing. I must admit though, I only think he's not been roundly slated for the role because it's a true story. In terms of film roles, it's certainly not his best. </div><div><br /></div><div>Morgan Freeman was, as he always is quite superb in delivery and charm. The problem for him, if he is hoping for an Oscar, is that I don't think the lines he was required to say were nearly good enough, even if he did say them so well. Although that's a similar problem Forest Whitaker had and well, he managed just fine. </div><div><br /></div><div>It comes down to this. Excellent story. But the screenplay just let it down so often. Eastwood's direction did so much to help but the lines were hammy, the story didn't have anything surprising about it (Except of course for Good Luck Bocke, which was just awesome- even if it weren't true!) there was never anything to keep you going and in the end it all seemed like a hagiographic attempt at glorifying Mandela. Yes he is deserving and yes he is awesome but for God's sake get a room. Also, the end slow motion montages seemed like they just ran out of footage. And there were several small shots and camera angles which seemed so out of the blue the film lost rhythm. </div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of which, may I just say Kyle Eastwood is one of my favorite new music writers. If there is one thing that makes this whole movie worth it, it is the sound track. And I'll save you the trouble, he IS Clint Eastwood's son. </div><div><br /></div><div>In a final analysis, watch it. It's a great story. But don't expect anything huge. It's not the greatest film. </div><div><br /></div><div>So far 2010- I'm a bit disappointed. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-6232723944429742302010-01-15T11:33:00.007+05:302010-01-15T12:02:04.402+05:30War Profiteering<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XcuaxomStIg5pOqxXAKtiuYS2N3dP-rZ5FhyphenhyphennDcztpIAVHs21WGxeHQfp7b4veG880zoo0iegbJtYbE1TkwyrEhJnEmx0qZbXn5iFPX-wj489WgiKvmAXs5vphnr9L_BucEerxSVDRM/s1600-h/30stm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3XcuaxomStIg5pOqxXAKtiuYS2N3dP-rZ5FhyphenhyphennDcztpIAVHs21WGxeHQfp7b4veG880zoo0iegbJtYbE1TkwyrEhJnEmx0qZbXn5iFPX-wj489WgiKvmAXs5vphnr9L_BucEerxSVDRM/s400/30stm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426846607196580930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >I have always found a place in my life, for the music I love most. I have attached a song or an album to sometimes things as simple as a fleeting emotion, an entire book that I'd read or even an entire phase in my life. Let me state for the record that in the past few months I have heard at least 10-12 new albums, some which have been great, some not so much. But this obviously provided me and a population with a host of new material to attach our lives to. In any case I feel that’s what one of music’s most important functions should be. People do not want to listen to happy songs when they’re sad. They want to listen to sad songs when they are sad.<br />And how strange that this season I have been so lucky to find not hope or love or optimism. I found strength.<br /><br />Battle studies is definitely one of those albums. John Mayer has surpassed himself and proven to be the best musician-singer-songwriter-guitarist of today, without any doubt whatsoever. He has effectively bridged old-fashioned blues and contemporary pop to produce an epic album, my favourite of last year. He described it as a ‘guidebook to relationships’, which could not be more true. If you are in a relationship, or just got out of one; if you have had your heart physically torn from out of your chest, and you feel helpless, if you feel trapped, or unloved or indifferent, remember not to lament. Don’t give up or give in, just be brave. Fight on.<br /></span><div id=":114" class="ii gt"><span style="font-family: georgia;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" ><br />Another album that has helped me so much was brought to my attention, c/o my homie Anish. In the last few months I have been thoroughly occupied with a crapload of work, family, choir (more about this later), and more recently, exams. This has been my first set of exams since I started this job, and I was trying hard to balance studying for the former while coping with work. So all in all, I did not study too great for these internal papers.<br />It is a 10 minute walk from my home to college, and in that time I always make sure I’m listening to some good music, and I thank my stars I found 30 seconds to Mars’ new album, This is War to help me get through that.<br />This album is the long winding battle cry of a soldier in the field that makes his fellow countrymen fight with all that they have for another 10 minutes. It is the roar of a hundred men, which puts fear in the enemy that has a thousand. It is the question of morality and futility, but ultimately is the guts to go out and face another day.<br />I took those emotions and attached it to my fear for the exams, and I think that while I did marginally better in the exams, I came out a much more relieved person.<br />The band produced the music and vocals in a studio, but then brought an entire hall of fans, to record with them on this album, which gives it huge sound. To hear a thousand people scream ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ is more inspiring than I can possibly explain.<br /><br />To sum up, listen to these albums only if need them. They have saved me. If not, put it away for the day when you feel you do. Fight on.<br /><br />P.S. - Jared Leto is awesome.</span><br /></div>Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-19204178866683539372010-01-10T20:51:00.002+05:302010-01-10T20:58:53.727+05:30Paranormal Activity: Haunting You in Your Sleep<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfhe8bqCOAEQ7ZSaS8GIy-Et1_lAo0KmM18cRwDHAmL86olaDd-w32NrAS6Fzrykv-lheHN2lBJ7-BiwT5ng4ee4C1csjKEZdZNb7DlO5fbT9tABn_fAw_L-vkU_N_kPawLcrM3N7lGjS/s1600-h/paranormal-activity-movie-poster1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425132361160960178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRfhe8bqCOAEQ7ZSaS8GIy-Et1_lAo0KmM18cRwDHAmL86olaDd-w32NrAS6Fzrykv-lheHN2lBJ7-BiwT5ng4ee4C1csjKEZdZNb7DlO5fbT9tABn_fAw_L-vkU_N_kPawLcrM3N7lGjS/s400/paranormal-activity-movie-poster1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I have never been a big fan of horror movies. Its not that I don’t enjoy them, per se, it’s just that I very rarely get scared or touched in any way when watching one. The only horror movies that have ever touched a chord in me, on a deep chilly level has been “The Exorcist” (surprise surprise) and “The Omen Trilogy”, both of which I own on DVD and have watched alone at home many a time. Since the creation of these movies, there has never been a movie that I have wanted to watch over and over again, or talk about, forget writing reviews.<br /><br />I ignored the Blair Witch phenomenon. I watched the movie, sure, and while I admired the use of documentary film-making in terms of horror, I shrugged after watching the movie, and my exact words I recall was “Meh”.<br /><br /> However, Paranormal Activity aroused my interest for many reasons. 1) The extreme hype that surrounded it, 2) The abnormally minimal budget used to film it ($ 15,000) 3) It was being called the best horror movie of the decade. 4) The story seemed simple enough to have potential: a couple who believe they are being haunted, decide to film themselves and their home to spot any evidence of ghosts/demons.<br /><br />A friend who I have always admired for his cool and calm head, lent me the DVD and warned me not to see it alone, and while I scoffed at him at the time, I'm glad I took his advice.<br /><br />If you break it down into pieces (which you really shouldn’t do), analytically, the film isn’t a masterpiece. However, it does the one thing its supposed to do. It chills you. Its quiet, and theres no gore, or anything stereotypically scary but before you know it, you’re leaning back in your seat, and wondering why the heck you’re scared, because nothing has even happened. The entire film is set primarily in the couple’s bedroom, with a few minutes spent in the living room. It’s a movie based on conversation and a hand-held camera, a movie that while you say “Oh well, that wasn’t so bad”, once its done, STILL somehow has the power to keep you awake all night.<br /><br />A friend and I watched the movie at 11pm, and by 12:30, it was done, and we bragged about how this was a bunch of overrated hype, and there was nothing scary about it. Then we went to bed, and managed to get sleep only at around 5am. Like the best of horror movies, there is no logic to why you should be scared. You know you aren’t possessed, you know there aren’t demons in your body, or ghouls under your bed, you also know that you’re an adult and you should really know better. Yet, like the best of horror movies, Paranormal Activity, gets you asking yourself the most creepy question of all : What if?<br /><div></div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-12060698448054028982010-01-10T14:38:00.005+05:302010-01-10T15:30:51.504+05:30Sherlock Holmes: A Review<span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><a href="http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/sherlock-holmes-poster.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 356px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 606px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.femalefirst.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/sherlock-holmes-poster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All,<br />This won't be a very long post. The film scarcely deserves a decent length review.<br />Don't get me wrong- it's not that the film was bad or anything. It just wasn't very good either.<br />I <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/dec/15/sherlock-holmes-film-review">read a review </a>some weeks ago and I decided to pay no heed to it. I am a Guy Ritchie loyalist and I will not lose faith.<br />And it is hard to blame the guy solely. There is some EXCELLENT action in the film and he's got some killer slow motion sequences as always but beyond that there's very little he could have done.<br />If I had to blame anything it'd be the script. The plot line is nice and all but better suited to a 42 minute show on TV.<br />The acting as well is good but there's rarely anything worth remembering. Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law have phenomenal chemistry but, end of the day, you could have put any two actors and their British accents instead and it'd be hard to tell the difference.<br />The only actor who comes out with any real merit for me was Mark Strong.<br />Generally, it was just an underwhelming experience and I do believe the script was just never worth the cast or director. Yes it's a fresh take on Holmes and indeed it is funny at times but I did not come out with anything but a shrug.<br />His deductions are very good and him and Watson are an excellent team and yes he's quite a character with some brilliant inventions/ observations but none of that leads to anything bigger. It's just a whole lot of foreplay.<br />A special mention must go the awesome score, and the awesome closing credits sequence.<br />This movie was meant to herald in 2010's list of <a href="http://www.film-releases.com/film-release-schedule-2010.php">bad ass releases</a>.<br />I hate Madonna. </div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-39458318135157899672010-01-08T19:51:00.007+05:302010-01-10T15:33:13.220+05:30Boston Legal: Clever Clever<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.buddytv.com/articles/Image/boston-legal/boston-legal-preview-5_4.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 519px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 359px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://images.buddytv.com/articles/Image/boston-legal/boston-legal-preview-5_4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Ello all, <div>Over the last few days, I have started to re-ignite certain fires I once had which had somewhat subsided. Conspiracy theories, ethics, and the long winded thoroughly idealistic pursuit of truth. </div><div><br /></div><div>As such, seemingly unintentionally, I watched three films which have me in a 'mad' stir. The first one is Zeitgeist Addendum, the much improved follow up to Peter Joseph's first documentary. While most of what is suggested and proposed throughout the film is <a href="http://www.pointbite.com/2008/10/08/zeitgeist-addendum-and-the-venus-project-hoax/">not entirely sound</a> the facts and information put forth are at the absolute least overwhelming. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I watched Good Night and Good Luck. A stunning, beautiful movie about some of the greatest journalism in modern times with just phenomenal lucidity. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which led to the third film. I've been aching to watch it since the first Zeitgeist where we were shown clips from it and sure enough, it did not disappoint. Network, the edgy, gutsy painfully truthful film surrounding one Howard Beale. (What surprised me most, is that a film so ideological, could feature such beautiful thoughts on love.)</div><div><br /></div><div>But what do any of these films have to do with Boston Legal?</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me put it this way- All three films have had great critical acclaim and relatively less public appeal, therefore reinforcing that old idea that being idealistic and honest and making money do not go hand in hand. </div><div><br /></div><div>In fact to many, me included, it always seemed like the gulf between hard hitting truth and good entertainment was too wide to bridge. So why should a television channel air facts about how horrid our world is today when they could just show you an episode of Desperate Housewives? </div><div>The people want it, they'll say. At 9 pm after a long day of work people want escapism and underwear not morality and debate. </div><div><br /></div><div>And then Boston legal came along with the perfect balance. A quirky, funny show about lawyers and courtroom dramas that forces you to hear facts and question things. As fun and light as Ally Mcbeal and as gut wrenching as The Practise. No surprise it took the same man, David E Kelley to find the thing that'd join them so perfectly. </div><div><br /></div><div>All three films I mentioned earlier raise the question about the responsibility of the Mass Media. About WHAT it should do WITH it's power and not how it should extend it. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yet none of them <i>quite</i> utilised it's power fully. This playful drama has taken every single factor that makes television viewing exciting and used it responsibly like no other show I can think of, to get some kind of ideas out there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know statistically or otherwise what Boston Legal has achieved and I don't know whether or not it's just disguised itself intelligently. What I do know is, from the chair I'm sitting in, someone is trying and someone has found a way to make being articulate and intelligent cool again. </div><div><br /></div><div>And even if you take away this seemingly bigger picture, the show features some of the freshest comedy on offer and has broken the fourth wall in some rather spectacular ways. Denny Crane going "Is the show over already?" Genius.</div><div><br /></div><div>I miss the likes of George C Scott and Peter Finch. Intense, articulate actors who could shake you with a monologue. </div><div><br /></div><div>I take great comfort in knowing the likes of James Spader are hear to lead a new line of awesome. </div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-74192233490353142152010-01-07T19:36:00.004+05:302010-01-07T19:56:07.875+05:30Norah Jones: Falling in Love with The Fall<p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsCVuVSX-1KauLdfjubuxT30ow13_Ld9SlKRzFTlmE6AIe9_TXsk6wXO_9NvYcEQNq23AHXZp8dAOrvqB30KXS70H_ZPrH3DSr3TfyN6tKjCTvb0crKlcGNvaKUdAYC36f0Rs1lGyoShy/s1600-h/norah-jones-the-fall-album-cover-300x300.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUsCVuVSX-1KauLdfjubuxT30ow13_Ld9SlKRzFTlmE6AIe9_TXsk6wXO_9NvYcEQNq23AHXZp8dAOrvqB30KXS70H_ZPrH3DSr3TfyN6tKjCTvb0crKlcGNvaKUdAYC36f0Rs1lGyoShy/s400/norah-jones-the-fall-album-cover-300x300.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423999597455340082" /></a><br /></p><p>I have never been able to sing to save my life, and it is something I have made my peace with over the years. However, I whole-heartedly admire those who do sing, including Harry and Tejas and am content with being the only WeTheMember with zero vocal abilities.</p><p><br />One voice, in particular, I fell in love with some years ago, and I wished and hoped and prayed that her voice were mine. Despite the fact that after her debut album, much of her music has been disappointing, I stayed true to my love of her voice, her lazy croon, a voice that always made me want to curl up under covers with a book and a great sense of well-being. I stayed loyal to Norah Jones’ warm jazzy croon for 9 years, including the release of her new album, The Fall. </p><p><br />While I downloaded The Fall in November, somehow I never found the time to listen to it until some days ago, on a long bus ride in an attempt to mar my thoughts. Norah didn’t let me down. While her last few albums have been mediocre imitations of her debut album “Come Away With Me”, her latest album shows that YES, she is willing to experiment with her beautiful voice, and isn’t afraid to step out of her comfort zone. Instead of falling back, yet again, into her jazzy/bluesy comfort zone, Jones has now stepped into rocknroll, leaving her trusty piano behind to embrace a guitar instead. </p><p><br />The Fall, the result of a painful break-up, is a beautiful album that reaches out to lonely nights and heartache. Her lyrics are raw and honest, and soothe you where it hurts. Listening to this album, gives you the same comfort that a bartender gives you over many martinis. He doesn’t know you, but he exudes understanding. Norah Jones and I have never met, but in the three hours I spent with her in a bus, I knew that on some strange level, she understood. </p><p><br />My personal favorites in The Fall, are <strong>“Back to Manhattan”</strong>, where in her unique voice she sings, <strong>“I’ll go back to Manhattan/ It’s just a train ride away/ I know nothing ’bout leaving/ but I know I should do it today”</strong> I identified with it instantly, because if you switched Manhattan for Sharjah, and a train for a bus, that was me in a nutshell. My other favorite is <strong>“Man of the Hour”</strong>, which is Jones’ ballad to her dog, where she croons: "<strong>And though we’ll never take a shower together/I know you’ll never make me cry/You never argue/You don’t even talk/And I like the way you let me lead you when we go outside and walk/Will you really be my only man of the hour?”</strong> A song that not only made me think of Harry and the comfort he derives from his dogs (a comfort that made me jealous sometimes), it also gave me my first smile in days. </p><p><br />And since just recently, I listened to someone wax poetic on converting pain into art, my admiration for Norah Jones has now transcended into more than just coveting her voice. She took her pain, and her brokenness and she used it. She reinvented herself, removed herself from what was comfortable, and leaped. Even the most ardent haters of Norah Jones cant call The Fall yet another reproduction of her debut album. She took a risk, and emerged triumphant. She fell and is better for her Fall. </p><p><br />P.S – The dog on the cover, is unfortunately NOT Norah Jones’s man of the hour. He is just a beautiful dog named Ben. Her actual Man of the Hour, is a 20 pound poodle, who according to Norah Jones, would have created chaos if allowed on any set. Ben, in my opinion however, would be the perfect Man of any Hour, non? Isnt he just beautiful? <br /><br /><br /></p>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-90361668103426193002009-12-27T00:24:00.003+05:302009-12-27T00:25:50.743+05:30Happy Holidays<div align="center">We the would just like to wish you the. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">And a Happy New Year. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Thank you for making this year a particularly special one for us.</div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-19085313510961668942009-12-22T21:29:00.003+05:302009-12-23T09:07:29.095+05:30Avatar: A Review<a href="http://static.reelmovienews.com/images/gallery/avatar-movie-poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 370px; height: 580px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://static.reelmovienews.com/images/gallery/avatar-movie-poster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><p>Ello All,</p><br /><p>This post is a bit overdue but after watching it for a second time today, I realised <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0499549/">James Cameron's Avatar</a> did not deserve to go un-reviewed any longer.</p><br /><p>For months now Tejas has been banging on about the movie and it's <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/aug/20/3d-film-avatar-james-cameron-technology">revolutionary technology</a> and how it had the potential to change the landscape of film making. Personally, I was sceptical. Mostly because watching films like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1186367/">Ninja Assassin</a> made me think that there was little left to revolutionise in modern cinematography and motion capturing. Specially not something worth a 12 year wait. </p><br /><p>And then I saw it. </p><br /><p>We don't usually swear on this blog but $#%&. </p><br /><p>You know how Roald Dahl can take the simplest of stories and enchant them with wit and irony? Well, James Cameron's done the same damn thing only he's used unbelievable CGI and an overwhelming attention to detail. </p><br /><p>The story line is simple and some could even say cliche. But no film, that has ever used any of the plot elements here before, be it aliens, romance, action, nature or the future, has ever told a story as beautifully as Cameron's team has done here.</p><br /><p>The twin analogies of 'making' war for profit and the destruction of our ecosystem are put across in, till now, the most effective way I've ever seen. The idea behind "Tsahelu" a physical bond through energy (in the film through fat nerves coming out of your pony tail) to the planet and world that one lives in is possibly my favorite idea for the next few years. </p><br /><p>But it's the attention to detail that makes this movie so immense. The tools and materials used by the "Na'vi" tribe, the language they came up with, the almost infinite inhabitants and elements in that incredible forest (The glowing had me gaping...) the little things about the aliens, such as the fact that all their animals have six legs (I suspect that has something to do with lower gravity...) and the fact that the real aliens have three fingers while the Avatars have four, all come together and make this film so incredibly HUGE I don't feel even slightly bad saying it's one of the defining movies of this decade. </p><br /><p>In terms of acting I must say Sam Worthington doesn't make me cringe anymore. In fact he was quite freaking awesome in his 'Avatar'. The stand out performance for me though was that of Zoe Saldana who has quite swiftly become one of my favorite actresses. I suggest we all look out for her. From the looks of it she's one of the few raw, ballsy actors out there. </p><br /><p>For now, go and have yourself a thorougly fulfilling 3-D experience. And a Happy New Year! </p><br /><p><em>Ps. Long time no post. Apologies but you know how it is- you're trying to get into a big new course so you start arbitrarily checking people for hypertension and revolutionise Indian Radio. Good times. </em></p><br /><p></p>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-64121844162753797932009-12-06T11:49:00.006+05:302009-12-06T12:02:22.649+05:30French Women Don't Get Fat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtUxKtyiz-i6LjGIn61tkTwZYcAzyPuFrlXgKxR35Joz0xGUbaw_kSkduV44pZ12Z0MLrAWwcU1sPLZtZ-T0S66td0RefH7GGEg6hthTKp4XLw9vnet6RfWadpw_wdMrzQWxBxrn3havm/s1600-h/french-women-dont-get-fat-part-3.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412004853677631026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtUxKtyiz-i6LjGIn61tkTwZYcAzyPuFrlXgKxR35Joz0xGUbaw_kSkduV44pZ12Z0MLrAWwcU1sPLZtZ-T0S66td0RefH7GGEg6hthTKp4XLw9vnet6RfWadpw_wdMrzQWxBxrn3havm/s400/french-women-dont-get-fat-part-3.gif" border="0" /></a> It’s true. French women have always been unfairly slender, with unfairly perfect skin, and even the sloppiest of French women are born with an inherent grace that most of us can’t even begin to fake. We can buy Chanel clutch purses , use Crème de la Mer, and even master the art of rolling our “R’s”, but there’s something about the French that we can never achieve.<br /><br />Which is why, when I read a review about Mireille Guiliano’s “French Women Don’t Get Fat”, my attention was immediately aroused. It was an extremely funny article, about how the French are the only ones not overly affected by the scary “R” word. They drink as much wine as ever, and take longer lunch hours than they ever did. In fact, this particular journalist, pointed out that the reason the French aren’t so hit by Recession is BECAUSE of their long lunch breaks. It makes sense. The French will wake up as late as they like, they’ll have a leisurely breakfast, and get to work. But, when they reach office, they are so relaxed and rejuvenated, they give work their 200%. While in the US and the UK, people will scramble out of bed, battle with ties and pantyhose, and drink at least 5 venti lattes by the time they reach work. Then they’ll proceed to update their Facebook/Twitter, play Solitaire, meet colleagues at the coffee machine and productivity is basically nil. The article was so brilliantly written, with such marveilleuse insights, that when the journalist briefly mentioned “French Women Don’t Get Fat”, I knew I HAD to get my hands on it.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412005611889131074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOcjf0u5C0XtW6crQACTUheLzCjNPEBq4CwVQj1iturLX6pyFDOFcQQ3OyN3yFYR1sXmmcn4Afw2ZtQA-1rA12a6HU2ugRTnGPEwtC6xOCela_mNPgTeXL1CUU8DNMNCy9tyovhXHbyoq/s400/1400042127_01_LZZZZZZZ.jpg" border="0" />The logic that Guiliano presented to the world appealed to me because Ive been following it all my life : Eat whatever you want, whenever you want. Eat butter, white bread, chocolate, drink wine - just do it in moderation. If you feel like eating chocolate, and you immediately get your hands on it, you’ll end up eating a few squares. Your body’s demands have been instantly satisfied. However, if you try fighting your desire for chocolate, your body not only gets cranky, there comes a point when you stop fighting and youre cramming bars and bars of chocolate into your mouth like a crazy person. Never let yourself get hungry. Then you will never let yourself get stuffed. It is sound logic, and it seemed refreshing after all the calorie counting and banning of foods that other diets have strutted out.<br /><br />Unfortunately, when Harry hunted it (and its sequel) down for me and it became my “Welcome home!” present, the book didn’t live upto my expectations, its review or its status as a present. While it’s a more entertaining read than most diet books, and its underlying logic is extremely sound, theres that certain something lacking that leaves the reader untouched. Its sequel on the other hand, “French Women for all Seasons” is a beautiful book, and one of my many books with a broken spine and many folded down pages. Guiliano seems to have put more of her heart into her sequel, with more personal histories, beautifully told with the occasional French phrase thrown in for poetic measure. While her first book tells you what to do and how to eat (including weekly menus!) her second book tells it like it is, which makes it even more a pleasure to read.<br /><br />However, despite my criticism of “French Women Don’t Get Fat”, I hail her moot point as genius. It is a relief to finally have the ultimate non-diet book that dictates “the secret of eating for pleasure” One of my favourite chapters in the book, is one dedicated entirely to chocolate. Apparently, many French women say <em><strong>“Je deprime donc je chocolate”</strong></em> or “When I’m down, I chocolate”<br /><br /><br />It was a refreshing chapter to read in a so-called diet book, and so, as a tribute to the chapter and my father, I decided to try one of the recipes : Chocolate-Espresso Faux Souffles. A very simple recipe, I think Guiliano has made it so many times, she forgot that most people attempting are doing so for the first time. I followed her recipe perfectly the first time round, and had to discard it and start from scratch, switching around steps. And while I spent the night cursing her and her book, this morning I got up and actually tried the soufflé. I died, and went to heaven. Unlike my parents who gobbled their unset soufflés last night, I decided that all my exertions deserved to let it set properly. It was good that I did, because its perfect. Firm on the outside and molten chocolate inside. The kind of chocolate that makes you want to open chocolate museums (which apparently, the French have already done, thanks to recipes like this)<br /><br />To quote Guiliano, who quoted Colette, a table of food should be seen as <em><strong>un rendez-vous d’amour et d’amitie</strong></em> (a date with love and friendship) Enjoy your food, savour it, eat for pleasure, and you may never have to worry about getting fat again.Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-65963466120681800502009-12-04T14:46:00.006+05:302009-12-04T16:14:28.393+05:30KT Tunstall's New Material<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVVcuxtRkWOVNTsz_xDBsBtYWQ3TCy36u0UdDIGxEaX3-XKtJfGw0xh4yGfpo8cqTMxVev5Vce4MQgx5IdQWXnCSi1ucUo0FsNWDouSlMtEjLvShlMt_KH3bmkQfzvPycstggpKj5h9Y/s1600-h/KtTunstall.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFVVcuxtRkWOVNTsz_xDBsBtYWQ3TCy36u0UdDIGxEaX3-XKtJfGw0xh4yGfpo8cqTMxVev5Vce4MQgx5IdQWXnCSi1ucUo0FsNWDouSlMtEjLvShlMt_KH3bmkQfzvPycstggpKj5h9Y/s400/KtTunstall.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411325128984270882" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hello everybody. I realise this may come off as a really geeky, stalk-ery post, but know that I do this for all the KT fans worldwide. I realised that since She had not updated her website in a long time, but sparks and rumours began to fly around summer time about a new album, that possibly they was something coming around maybe towards the end of this year(now). So let me at the very outset say that this is a comprehensive-ish post about all the information I have gathered about KT's new work, by scouring the internet and finding bits and bobs of news. Also the album is in all probability coming out sometime in the first half of 2010. Though she also mentioned somewhere that she wanted to record her new album in a solar power studio, but I haven't heard any news of her recording any new material anywhere so far. Personally I hope she's on it but also since she was touring during her first year of marriage, I hope she has time to chill as well.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">No name has been released for an album, and I have not yet heard of any pre-production yet, but here are some of her new tracks that she's being playing at live gigs.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1. </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=12S1A6gTIoQ"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Poison in Your Cup</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">: This one's about George Bush I heard, still proving to be the inspiration for many songs, articles, etc. She performed this one solo with her 'wee bastard' loop pedal at the</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Skoll World Forum on Social Entrepreneurship 2009. Very dramatic, very powerful slow number.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2.</span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WohqcYcg9Sg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Fireworker:</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> One of my favourites right now, typical drastic fantastic KT, almost like a major version of 'Hold On' and catchy chorus.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">3. </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aeqHFJpUrk&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Madame Trudeau:</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Going back the 'Black Horse' style here, about a former Canadian president's wife who apparently ran off to be with the Rolling Stones.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">4. </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3X-eB6Dwdc&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Hidden Part:</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> This one is actually from a fundraising compilation album called </span></span><a href="http://www.survivalinternational.org/about/amazonalbum"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">'Songs for Survival</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">' in aid of endangered Amazon tribes, which explains the track's very early american-red-indian-river-valley type, but again with her mellow vocals, proves to be quite surreal. Good quality recording in the link. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Other songs are 'Turn Into You' (probably destined to become a B-Side) and Scarlet Tulip, a slowish standard expected from her in almost all her albums (like 'Paper Aeroplane' or 'Silent Sea') and these new songs should sound even better in studio quality.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Anyway the point of all this that KT will always have great songs, because A: she has a great band to back up her vocals and melodies, and that B she's an experienced live artist touring for almost 10 years before she was discovered, thus making her a goldmine of yet unreleased-but-supremely-awesome songs. Also this was therapeutic for me in a way, finally I could devise a way to re-listen to all her new stuff, from links on a single page. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">If there are any updates or otherwise, that I have missed, please inform me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Also KT, if there's any chance in hell you are reading this, please just come to India and to like Mumbai this time. I know you were in the Rajasthani desert! She jammed with Rajasthani percussionists! She and Luke Bullen (Her husband) played a Dhol-type drum (A much bigger one)!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Can't believe I didn't know about that. I would have gone to </span></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBoGGQoCbRM"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Tilonia.</span></span></a></div>Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-64067040835003993892009-11-28T16:34:00.002+05:302009-11-28T16:35:15.148+05:30For TechnoratiHad to do this for stats!<br /><br /><span class="status"> 6HUPTNWNQYJQ<br /><br />Thats for you, baby.<br /></span>Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-83050628623411068372009-11-27T09:30:00.005+05:302009-11-27T09:42:25.325+05:30Unlikely Musicians<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarGpDBdtyY45r1Bw2yYtC9-ZkXjkh0uxMDRMnzkt576PcRWjwX1nU_Alu6V0H3rRKMRFHm446C9F5bNe7CHo2ul9rs9ANb07uRHA3wovaWQ0hJ0f9oFTMdkM_-PCZEjB7X2bs4IE8JyU/s1600/band_drawing.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 332px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiarGpDBdtyY45r1Bw2yYtC9-ZkXjkh0uxMDRMnzkt576PcRWjwX1nU_Alu6V0H3rRKMRFHm446C9F5bNe7CHo2ul9rs9ANb07uRHA3wovaWQ0hJ0f9oFTMdkM_-PCZEjB7X2bs4IE8JyU/s400/band_drawing.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408629824890748546" border="0" /></a><br />Music as you may know is a big part of my life. In the past few years especially I have consciously/sub-consciously tried/failed/succeeded many/very few times to create/understand/replicate/modify/manipulate/control/innovate classic/contemporary forms of music. The results of which have been disastrous/astounding/enriching.<br />I would be inclined to think now, that music is an integral bit of everyone’s lives, whether they know it or not. Whether they try and incorporate some element of it into their lives. I can see an image of a corporate head going for a jam with friends after work. Or perhaps and a woman who finally buys herself the piano that she’s being putting of for so long, just to finally immerse herself into this new world of melody. Or maybe it’s the countless number of people putting their headphones on every time they step out of the house. Whatever it is, people are doing it, and if you’re not, you’ve got to try.<br /><br />As I was aimlessly driving through the internet in my Powerbook G4 (Something I seem to be doing too much of lately<span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 85%;"><strong>* </strong></span>) I stumbled upon a certain group of unlikely musicians, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rock_Bottom_Remainders">The Rock-Bottom Remainders</a>; who were doing exactly what I thought people were doing. Random men and women who strum guitar and play music in general at a very basic level, had come together to jam-up and enjoy each others company and just play some simple songs to break away from their regular lives. More and more people like the afore-mentioned are finding music to be that one thing that they can use to colour their lives. The band I’m talking about have taken regular jamming to another level and has sort of an elite membership: Dave Barry, Stephen King, Amy Tan, Maya Angelou, Mitch Albom and Matt Groening to name a few. These very successful and powerful writers put down their pens and meet once a year to jam up for charity and the really cool thing is that they really know that they aren’t good at music so there’s always an endless supply of witty jokes about how bad they are:<br /><br />"We play music as well as Metallic writes novels." -Dave Barry<br /><br />"People are throwing panties at you. They certainly never do that at my book-signings." -Matt Groening<br /><br />The point is that while this rock n’ roll band of published authors aren’t very good, they still go at it and have been at it since 1992. And also they are a hilarious bunch of people, so you should <a href="http://www.rockbottomremainders.com/">check them out for sure.</a><br />Music is for everyone and only you. You should first and foremost, feel the effects of the guitar in your hands while you strum it. You should get the feel of what John Mayer is saying when you buy his CD. Another super example of what I’m talking about is how my friend and I formed a band way back in 2008. We’re not too good, but I can speak for both of us when I say, I think we RULE. I enjoy cause I can experiment with new ideas in this relatively pure acoustic-one-woman-managed band but mostly I enjoy cause I get to watch a not that great singer pull out all stops and just sing his heart out. And I realized that much later until we were too busy to meet up let alone jam up. He may very well be the funniest guy I know and we connect on some kind of supreme level, and for that I miss him, and hope he accepts my heartfelt apology for bumming him out all too recently.<br />Please do yourself a favour and get out there. Buy a Karaoke machine. Or a violin. You’ve got to try.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: 85%;"><strong>*<span style="font-style: italic;">Lately </span>= the last 3 years.</strong></span></span>Tejashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10504183697996676187noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-62769165794148716812009-11-13T20:16:00.005+05:302009-11-13T21:00:11.398+05:302012: The Review<a href="http://www.collider.com/wp-content/image-base/Movies/T/Two_2012/posters/2012%20movie%20poster.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 355px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 653px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.collider.com/wp-content/image-base/Movies/T/Two_2012/posters/2012%20movie%20poster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All,<br />So yes it happened. It came and I saw it and MAN!<br />What an excellent, excellent film. For several reasons and before I get into them I must say- it most certainly was not perfect. A lot of the times it was melodramatic, a lot of the times it was unrealistic, and for the most part, the family's story that leads the entire plot is far fetched to say the least.<br />Possibly a hundred close calls, near misses, 'aaaaaaaAAAAAAH! Phew' moments and other such wonderful things a script can give us. The more cynical would possibly use it as a reason to beat the film up though I must say, while it did grate on me a bit, it certainly kept the film thrilling THROUGHOUT, something not many films can accomplish. I can only think of one moment when my eyes weren't on the screen and my heart wasn't racing. At the same time, especially considering the kind of cameras they've used, I expected a bit more reality in the script (ironically a criticism levied against the lead character's book.)<br />Now for the good parts-<br />The Graphics were excellent. The solar flares, the tidal waves, the disintegrating crust of the earth and even the exposed core, were all STUNNING and quite an experience. There were a couple of places where I felt the green screen was a bit too evident, but overall, the mammoth task the filmmakers accomplished certainly deserves the capital G in graphics!<br />The acting was perfect for this kind of a film. More significantly though, the casting was just about spotless. Oliver Platt, Woody Harrelson and John Cusack stood out and all played their parts so very naturally and so non stereotypically, there wasn't a single place I wanted to cringe. Even the fringe characters (barring the Indian <a href="http://rupees100.blogspot.com/2009/06/racist-thought.html">SATNAM</a> who to be fair did decently enough, it's just that for Indians it's quite blatant how rough his accent and mannerisms were) were superb in their bits, though casting Amanda Peet for her role was ingenius. It was a mature, well restrained performance and certainly one worth lauding.<br />The direction too was near flawless, though as I mentioned earlier, there's extensive creative license.<br />Finally, and for me, the reason this movie has outdone past apocalyptic films, the script. I did not expect to come out of this movie, so in awe of the thoroughly detailed writing for this movie. First of all, science wise, it seemed pretty flawless to me, though I'm sure there are gaffs, the film's ending is perhaps the most well thought of doomsday solution I've ever come across.<br />Second of all, some of the dialogues are just inspired, especially towards the end. The plot elements, like Woody Harrelson's blog, John Cusack's book and the comedic lines are PERFECT. While the brief comedy could easily have been trite and gotten by, the writers have made sure it's pushed the plot forward in terms of revealing important character facets and plot elements. Also, the intrinsic details like how the Cistine Chapel cracks (check out which painting it is, even if the symbolism isn't clear, it looks quite freaking cool) add so much depth to the movie it sucks you right in.<br />Third of all, the writers have broken so many typically apocalytpic moments, the Statue of Liberty gaff, the 'I'll have a dramatic pause now and it's all good' was broken a couple of times (though abused a few times too) and most importantly for me- NO PUNCH LINES!<br />It could have been the director, the actors or the script writers themselves who slipped in these little things, frankly I don't give a crap.<br />This is easily the biggest film of the year and rightly so, though as I've mentioned, it isn't going to change your life, only give you one hell of an experience.<br />Let me just say one last thing:<br />Do not make the mistake of missing this one on the big screen- YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!</div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-27075480830816820312009-11-11T22:18:00.006+05:302009-11-11T23:12:01.613+05:30Of Kindred Spirits and Anne Shirley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-l1TRxok2KEX4Qo8sPokXRVgCjR1AmkBq3MRhyQlWUc5pzMDzcv3TmrPIcxgisegTk1TcjWv9UT0YFNTYKoVHbS8ArxyuoOhQPoqHl1wXfc2R3Twv7CumoAgQksQJDPP3OYJi5M2Anvu/s1600-h/HEDouglas2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402890405421732242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-l1TRxok2KEX4Qo8sPokXRVgCjR1AmkBq3MRhyQlWUc5pzMDzcv3TmrPIcxgisegTk1TcjWv9UT0YFNTYKoVHbS8ArxyuoOhQPoqHl1wXfc2R3Twv7CumoAgQksQJDPP3OYJi5M2Anvu/s400/HEDouglas2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I have wanted to do a post of Anne of Green Gables for the longest time, but the timing was never right. To do proper justice to Anne-with-an-e Shirley and everything she represented, there had to a proper time, place and feeling.<br /><br />I discovered Anne of Green Gables when I was 10. I had borrowed an abridged illustrated copy from a friend and I felt hopelessly in love. An orphan who was sent by accident to a brother-and-sister, she managed to transform their lives as well as the pretty Canadian town she lived in. Between the ages of 10 - 15, I managed to track down all 8 of her books - dating from her childhood, to the lives and loves of her own children. My collection of Anne Shirley's life has and always will be one of my most prized possession. She was and is one of my best friends. Her colorful imagination, her lyrical flights of fancy, and her all encompassing sense of love makes her far more than a mere fictional character. The fact that she was far from perfect helped too - a perfect person would never manage to dye her hair green, her nose blue, get her 11-year old friend drunk, bake a cake with anodyne liniment etc. Anne Shirley creeps her way into your heart because she is so...human.<br /><br />One of Anne's pet theories, is one of kindred spirits. A kindred spirit is much more than just a friend. A kindred spirit, is someone who understands unconditionally, without even trying. Someone who becomes a part of your life without even trying, whether you like it or not, because somehow or the other, she/he just knows what you're saying/thinking/feeling. That someone will not only tolerate your incessant ramblings but will manage to acquire the underlying sense behind it. That someone gives you far more than love or friendship - that someone "gets" you, which is much harder to find than love/friendship.<br /><br />Since Anne Shirley explained the concept of kindred spirits to me, a decade ago, I have been on the lookout for them. And I have found them, perhaps not as much I'd like, but I love the ones I have with a deep deep devotion. My kindred spirits shared a flaw however. They never understood the concept of kindred spirits. I could explain till I was hoarse, I could attempt to shove poor Anne down their throats, and they never really got it. They liked the way it sounded, and thought it amusing that it meant so much to me, but never really understood the significance of a kindred spirit the way Anne did.<br /><br />But recently, I found a new kindred spirit, one I have never even met. It is surreal in the nicest possible way knowing that you and someone can "get" each other, without ever having met. But this someone, when told she was my kindred spirit, knew enough to exclaim"Anne of Green Gables!" This someone knew what being a kindred spirit meant, and understood enough of Anne-with-an-e's own spirit to know how yay it is to find one. This particular kindred spirit excites me more than the others I have, because if we can "get" each other when we have never met, I would love to know what it'll be like when we DO meet.<br /><br />At age 10, Anne Shirley became a kindred spirit for life. One of the few fictional characters in my bookshelf to hold that title. But more than that, she paved the way for me to find kindred spirits of my own, apart from her. She taught me that once you find someone like that, you keep them. She taught me that an imagination can be the greatest comfort when you are "in the depths of despair" and she taught me it doesnt hurt to dream, even if you have freckles and red hair.<br /><br />And most importantly, she taught me to always look at the bottle before you attempt to dye your hair. Green hair is not...becoming.<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>“Kindred Spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. Its splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world" - Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables</strong></span><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span> </div>Kyrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00189241177525087116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-41133893053389122472009-11-06T20:16:00.004+05:302009-11-06T23:42:40.922+05:30Countdown to 2012<a href="http://static.reelmovienews.com/images/gallery/2012-movie-poster.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 354px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 531px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://static.reelmovienews.com/images/gallery/2012-movie-poster.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All,</div>It's hard to know why, but for some reason, we LOVE ourselves a good apocalypse!<br />As you all will know, in a few days one of the most widely anticipated movies of this year is going to be released. The film ofcourse, is <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1190080/">2012</a>. It's centered around the theory that the Mayan calendar ends in 2012 and as the saying goes:<br /><em>"Shit goin' down!"</em><br />As far as I can tell, the film is following the same formula that most apocalyptic films follow.<br />-There's some huge freaking climate change on a global scale.<br />-Everyone is scared crazy.<br />-America's at the brunt of it.<br />-The Statue of Liberty is going to get MESSED UP!<br />-There is one man who took his job too seriously and lost his family (who still totally dig him, they just don't know it yet)<br />-The governments are clueless and have no clue how to fix a damn thing.<br />-Shit goin' down!<br />What's interesting though, is that until the eighties when the likes of George Lucas started developing CGI and film techniques, there weren't a whole lot of these films, because they just cost too much.<br />With the kind of technology film makers have at their disposal today though, these films are almost commonplace now. Of course, as I mentioned earlier, we can't seem to get enough of them. Maybe it's the thrill of global destruction. Maybe it's the preachy monologue at the end. Maybe it's the return of slightly older actors in hardcore cool roles. Maybe it's the return of slightly older actors acting as the President of the United States. Maybe it's just the sheer event the film marketers make it out to be.<br />But one thing is for sure. We love to see how they portray the planet in their messed up futures. We LOVE to see how things change, we LOVE to see where the Statue of Liberty's going to be next. And quite clearly, we love to see big ass tidal waves!<br />So as a mild warm up for the big event that is 2012, I'd like to run through five films in the past couple of years that have stood out in their own little apocalyptic ways for differing reasons. They are in no order of preference or release date.<br />1) <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0970416/">The Day the Earth Stood Still</a>: I hated it. The film was stupid, one dimensional, preachy, downright silly at times, and quite honestly, Keanu Reeves was acting as Neo all over again. Only this time, he wasn't cool. What the film DID do well though, was it's special effects. The disintegration of everything around Reeves, the atmospheric changes and the monster sized robot were all stunningly done. In fact, it's this kind of film that makes me wonder just how incredible <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0499549/">Avatar</a> is going to have to be to live up to it's 'revolutionary' tag.<br />2) <a href="http://wethewritestuff.blogspot.com/2009/07/month-of-action.html">Terminator: Salvation</a>: Another film which let down as far as acting, plot and script were concerned. The environment and machinery shown in the film was freaking unbelievable. The bikes popping out of giant robot shins, the guns, the capsules, the under water machines, were all so perfectly designed and placed, it made the whole film feel SO much better than it really was.<br />In particular the set design stood out as one of the best I've seen in a while.<br />3) <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0364970/">Babylon AD</a>: You know, in spite of it being a Vin Diesel film, I honestly expected great things from this film. That is until they gave Vin Diesel the chance to speak for more than two sentences. Fact remains though, the graphics and visuals in this film were HUGE. But more than anything else, it was the little things I loved about the movie.<br />In particular there's the map Vin Diesel uses to navigate. What looks like a peice of paper, gets pinched and stroked much like your iPhone does right now, and the best part is, it actually behaved like one. Only, when he was done, he just folded it right back into his backpack and made way. The other thing worth mentioning about the film is that it doesn't bore us with a pointless explanation about HOW the world's in the state it is, it just kind of moves on to the action at hand.<br />4) <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0910970/">Wall- E</a>: One of the best films made. One of the best sets animated. One of the best detail to characters. One of the most original takes on how we need to litter less. Tough freaking act to follow, though it doesn't compete with any of the films in this genre.<br />5) <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0319262/">The Day After Tomorrow</a>: True, it's from 2004 and doesn't count as 'last couple of years' but let's face it, this is the movie 2012 is going to have to out do if anyone's going to remember it. Super actors, super plot, super graphics and Dennis freaking Quaid!<br />A cinematic experience to say the least, and I'm one of the chumps who saw it on a laptop!<br />Needless to say I won't be missing 2012 in a theatre.<br />And I would hope none of you do either.<br />Till the day- ADDALAY!Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-87888492904750008752009-10-30T01:05:00.003+05:302009-10-30T02:00:24.594+05:30Michael Jackson's This Is It: A Review<a href="http://superblog.crazyengineers.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/MJ.gif"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 337px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 364px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://superblog.crazyengineers.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/06/MJ.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All,</div><br /><div>When it happened, we let <a href="http://wethewritestuff.blogspot.com/2009/07/once-more-for-michael.html">Tejas express how we felt about the death of a true great</a>.</div><br /><div>Due to some miscommunication between us, I ended up watching This is it before him, and so, quite humbly, I'll go through with the review for it. </div><div>The film, as most of you will know, is a filmed record of what was happening behind the scenes of "One last curtain call" as Michael put it himself. </div><div>Unfortunately, as you will also know, a few days before the final dress rehearsals, The King of Pop, passed away- thus making the whole shabang only what <em>would</em> have been the greatest concert he ever put together. And compared to some of the things he's put on stage, that's one hell of a show we're talking about.</div><div>The film starts with some testimonials from the supporting dance troupe, about how honoured they are to be dancing alongside their hero. The testimonials continue throughout the film and we see, essentially how awesome his crew, his band and his dancers all thought he was, or at the time, 'is.'</div><div>Essentially it's a collection of videos showing the rehearsals and creative process of Jackson and Ortega (The director, and his choreographer). I won't describe or point out what stood out as stunning to me, in too much detail. I will say, however, the preparation, the planning and the way all the performances come together is thrilling. The music, the dancing, the stage set up, the background videos, all merge to form one hugely inspiring, moving and simply stunning performance after the other. </div><div>What struck me most though, and I think will strike you most as well, is not only how Michael treats the whole thing, but how everyone treats Michael. </div><div>There are many times when the band continues on cue, or the dancers continue as choreographed, and MJ stops them to make them do it the way he thinks it ought to be. What's incredible about this, is not his eye and ear for detail, but the way he <em>feels</em> so instinctively, when to let things 'simmer' and when to let things 'pop'. I've always felt, that one of his greatest stage moves was his mastery of the stance. Of holding, pausing or abruptly halting the whole thing to grip you with expectation. To let the audience cheer and scream and hope for the imminent powerful BURST back into groove. </div><div>The powerful dancing, the 'oomph' choreography, the music would all mean nothing, if it weren't given to us viewers with the expert timing and precision that MJ commands. It's like the right full stop in the middle. Of a sentence. </div><div>A command, further elucidated by the fact that MJ asks for what he does, not in technical terms, but ALWAYS in metaphor. "Play with love." "No. Do it like you're dragging yourself out of bed." (A fact Ishaan, my roommate and a bassist in several bands, found very very irritating, saying that it was very childish and very annoying when people expect other people to technically respond to emotive commands. He did agree though, after seeing MJ do his thing in a rehearsal of Billie Jean, that it was the smallest price to pay to be a part of something <em>that</em> awesome happening.) </div><div>And that's the amazing thing. How very much like a child MJ seems throughout. Not in being exuberant, but in being reserved to the point of seeming shy. His polite requests always come off, more as encouraging someone to do better, rather than discouraging them from doing worse- if that makes sense at all.</div><div>Even the stage technicians and choreographers- always polite, always patient, as if they were dealing with a 4 year old. Careful not to push him too much, at the same time making sure they don't misunderstand him and incite a tantrum. A tantrum, which incredibly, never seemed to come, as one would perhaps expect from a 'genius' like Jackson.</div><div>What we end up getting with this film, is a real sense of HOW he functioned and what motivated him to do what he does. At times it feels a bit corny but his innate fragility makes you wonder why you'd ever doubt it at all.</div><div>When I came out of this movie, I felt the need to MOVE! To groove and to express like I'd die doing it. To PANG and BOOM, the way most of the performances do. To stand tall, chest out and yell as loud and clear as I freaking can. </div><div>The thing about Michael Jackson is not that he could dance well and sing nice notes. It's not that he wrote beautiful songs and made excellent concerts- it's that above all else, he <em>FELT </em>it, man. He felt every time he pumped his crotch, he FELT every time he clenched his fist and sang out loud, he FELT every time he looked at the audience and said 'I love you and God Bless you.'</div><div>To love what you're doing, to feel in your gut, everything that you convey, if there is one thing I have learnt from Michael Jackson- This is it.</div><div>Rest in peace, dear Michael. For never growing up, for never losing heart and for ALWAYS loving, rest in peace.<br /></div><div></div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-20999255305793819372009-10-28T00:52:00.003+05:302009-10-28T02:41:38.953+05:30The Michael Sheen trilogy: A Review<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuuZUWZhc2ihYN0ZyShE-fzSgNgjdRkpvDYx8v1usN1y9pGv9a59hjynBS24PGejClboSoXufJpMXkhowy_8Wf6sFXimmSRuCxVdePfXUUZqGFY8178F_NydtAEHNUTPmQJOj86_hVvIm/s1600-h/Michael-Sheen-001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397390382989502530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeuuZUWZhc2ihYN0ZyShE-fzSgNgjdRkpvDYx8v1usN1y9pGv9a59hjynBS24PGejClboSoXufJpMXkhowy_8Wf6sFXimmSRuCxVdePfXUUZqGFY8178F_NydtAEHNUTPmQJOj86_hVvIm/s400/Michael-Sheen-001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All,<br />I love movies. I Love Football. And like most of you, dear readers, I like British people.<br />So when I find a young, talented Welsh actor, who chose drama over sport, and still regrets that choice, it makes me jump up and down in little happy fits. That's happy. Not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that.<br />The title of this post would suggest Michael Sheen has only three films to his name. That's just <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0790688/">not true.</a> He's done several other little performances, most notably in the Underworld series and the excellent Kingdom of Heaven.<br />But the fact remains, that his largely Theatre centric career, is most famous for three films- The Queen, Frost/Nixon and recently, The Damned United. I've seen all three now, in that order, and anyone who's seen them will agree they are excellent films.<br />All three represent real life characters, and as is the case with most depictions of real life characters, all are said to be flawed representations.<br />In the Queen, he plays a young, enthusiastic Tony Blair. His wide smile and charming demeanour immediately convince you he looks exactly like Tony Blair. He's impassioned, he's witty and above all else he's very very confused.<br />He then plays David Frost, the journalist who yanked out of Nixon what an entire American public failed to. His wide smile and charming demeanour immediately convince you he's some kind of awesome. He's impassioned, he's witty and he's also very very confused.<br />He then plays Brian Clough, the brilliant manager who led several shitty teams to great things. His wry smile, and self serving charm lead you to believe he IS 'Cloughie.' He's impassioned, he's witty, and above all else, he's very very stubborn.<br />Now it's clear that in all three cases there are many similarities, and in fact, a lazy watcher could say, he plays the same person over and over again.<br />To them, I would offer this quote from the man himself:<br /><em>"It's interesting that in searching for monsters to play you often end up playing leaders."</em><br />The thing is, unlike Tom Cruise, who almost ALWAYS does play the same guy with a different name, Sheen tends to play, as he puts himself- <em><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/mar/20/michael-sheen-interview-damned-united">himself.</a> </em><br />Most great actors tend to put themselves into their part. In fact, our very own Tejas used it as a means to play his last, comparatively smaller part.<br />What amazes me about Sheen though, is that unlike Cruise, I am excited to see his next film, not because he is bad ass- but simply because I know how thoroughly flawed and innately big headed his characters(and he) can be.<br />In The Damned United, a film criticised, as always, <a href="http://www.expressandstar.com/2009/03/20/is-it-the-real-story-of-cloughie/">for being untrue</a> he changes his accent, his mannerisms and even the very core of his personality. The characters all have very different motivations, yet there is something about all of them, something in the way they all smile through their own personal problems and fight on to a greater clarity.<br />At this point, I think the best way I can describe my opinion of Michael Sheen is in one word- Intrigue.<br />I am thoroughly psyched to see him in Alice in Wonderland where he'll be playing the White Rabbit.<br />I have a feeling I know how he'll approach the role, and I have a feeling it will feel a little familiar again, but just like the last 2 films of his I saw, I cannot wait to see what happens with it.<br />To anyone who is yet to experience a Michael Sheen performance, I suggest you find yourself a copy of any of the three films mentioned here.<br />It will be a thoroughly intriguing watch, especially after you read <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2009/mar/20/michael-sheen-interview-damned-united">this</a>.</div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3766238388202012108.post-47344410511960466632009-10-24T01:29:00.003+05:302009-10-24T02:05:01.959+05:30Street Thief: A Review...sort of<a href="http://www.skrabby.com/images/screenshots/kgvkhdb_street.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://www.skrabby.com/images/screenshots/kgvkhdb_street.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Ello All</div><br /><div>A few months ago I saw a movie called 'Smokin' Aces'. I loved it. I rate it as one of the best action films I have ever seen. As soon as it was done, I did my usual web analysis of it and like several films before- it partly ruined the film for me. Everyone hated it. Everyone mocked it and just about no one agreed with me.</div><br /><div>Tonight I have watched a film called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0872224/">Street Thief</a>. The movie is shot documentary style and is probably one of the best documentaries you'll see. Problem is it's not a freaking documentary. </div><br /><div>After watching the film, I was stunned. It's slick and edgy and thoroughly real, in a very very raw way. I won't say it changed how I feel about the subject matter (Film makers follow a 'professional' burglar as he stakes out, plans and steals from several different places.) I won't say it's made some huge impact on my life, but the film really is quite amazing. It's thrilling, it's entertaining, and contains one of the best scores I've heard in a while. </div><br /><div>The end of the film makes you doubt how real, or actually just 'how' the entire film amounts to what it does. </div><br /><div>The weird part is the widespread debate about whether or not the film is real. I'd just like to clarify, to anyone else who was as confused as me, that the film itself is NOT real. <a href="http://archives.record-eagle.com/2006/aug/03ff-bader.htm">The director plays the main 'subject'</a>, the 'director' in the film is played by an actor and the only other character of note is also played by an actor. </div><br /><div>Clearly then, the film is not real. It IS entertaining, it IS gripping, and it IS a superb new way of showing burglars and the truth about professional robbery (let's just say, George Clooney may have misled us a teensy bit.) but the fact of the matter is, no matter how great a film is and no matter how many truths it can convey, if you're pretending to be a documentary, to the point that you do not mention your actual cast in the end credits, and you depict timelines and factual indicators throughout your film, then you're just a big fat steaming stinking Blair Witch ripping liar. </div><br /><div>I love documentaries and I love fiction. Michael Moore does documentaries to seem as entertaining as fiction. The other way around just feels scummy. (To be fair, to many people, Michael Moore is just <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2102723/">plain scummy</a> for his own <a href="http://www.mooreexposed.com/">little lies</a>.) Frankly, I believe that if these guys, had a superior script and better actors, we would have possibly one of the best fiction films of 2006. </div><br /><div>Instead, and this is not to put down the exceptional performance of Malik Bader as the lead character, or in fact Ken Seng's exceptional cinematography, we have a film which entertains and excites, only to let you down hard and leave you with a very sour after taste.</div><br /><div>While this post may have moved you a long way towards disliking the film even before you've seen it, I strongly recommend you watch the film and BELIEVE it for the 1 and a half hours it plays. It really is excellent viewing, just don't fall for it the way the Bader Brothers would like you to.</div><div> </div><div>Till later, Gators.</div>Harryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01925924841004513935noreply@blogger.com0