We the Write stuff.

Yesterday was a bad day. 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.
I lost my phone yesterday.
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.

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 was no way to tell them. I did not even have the strength to feel sorry for myself or just plainly ask 'Why?'

Thus I sat and read Y: The Last Man.

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.

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 that my friends, is the power of art! In 7 hours I immersed myself in Y 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. Alas, Poor Yorick, I knew him!

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! - (Hamlet, V.i)

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.
Sigh.
Uncle Ben, why do I miss him so much?

Comic back to the point. The marriage of art and the person who experiences it, is a very personal moment. It's like family, literally. 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.

That my friends is the power of art!

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.

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”.

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.

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.

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.

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?

Ello all,

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.

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. 

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. 

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. 

My personal favorites in The Fall, are “Back to Manhattan”, where in her unique voice she sings, “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” 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 “Man of the Hour”, which is Jones’ ballad to her dog, where she croons: "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?” 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. 

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.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? 

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.

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.


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.

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.

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 “Je deprime donc je chocolate” or “When I’m down, I chocolate”


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)

To quote Guiliano, who quoted Colette, a table of food should be seen as un rendez-vous d’amour et d’amitie (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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

And most importantly, she taught me to always look at the bottle before you attempt to dye your hair. Green hair is not...becoming.

“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

It's hard to know why, but for some reason, we LOVE ourselves a good apocalypse!
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 2012. It's centered around the theory that the Mayan calendar ends in 2012 and as the saying goes:
"Shit goin' down!"
As far as I can tell, the film is following the same formula that most apocalyptic films follow.
-There's some huge freaking climate change on a global scale.
-Everyone is scared crazy.
-America's at the brunt of it.
-The Statue of Liberty is going to get MESSED UP!
-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)
-The governments are clueless and have no clue how to fix a damn thing.
-Shit goin' down!
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.
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.
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!
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.
1) The Day the Earth Stood Still: 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 Avatar is going to have to be to live up to it's 'revolutionary' tag.
2) Terminator: Salvation: 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.
In particular the set design stood out as one of the best I've seen in a while.
3) Babylon AD: 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.
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.
4) Wall- E: 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.
5) The Day After Tomorrow: 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!
A cinematic experience to say the least, and I'm one of the chumps who saw it on a laptop!
Needless to say I won't be missing 2012 in a theatre.
And I would hope none of you do either.
Till the day- ADDALAY!