Stir Often

Desis these days seem to favor a lot of dil (heart) over a little bit of dimaag (brains). Real issues of import  are dealt in a manner similar to how a bollywood hero in a blockbuster might, with song and dance, plenty of theatrics and cliches.

• 'Damini' & 'Nirbhaya' - The pseudo names by which the Indian media refers to the Dec 2012 Delhi rape victim. The girl has been dubbed thus to protect her own 'good name' . The irony of  labeling this woman with words that translate to 'lightning' and 'unafraid' when something as elementary as her actual name needs to be kept hidden is lost on most people. 

• The death penalty for the 4 rapists - People chanting "India wins" & that " India's daughter Damini's soul can finally rest in peace". 

• A white woman complains - and everyone loses their collective minds. 

It's not only the media that resorts to these tactics. Everyday people are also well versed at using metaphors - "You're my sister" (No, I don't have any siblings), "I made this money with blood & sweat" (Good fucking job), "I'll just live like a dog in the corner of this house" (If I were you, I'd pick the one with the diwan)

Less rhetoricie more talkie.

As usual, this is the only voice of reason, it seems.

Walt Whitman

A Woman Waits for Me

A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the
right man were lacking.

Sex contains all, bodies, souls,
Meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results, promulgations,
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal milk,
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals, all the passions, loves,
beauties, delights of the earth,
All the governments, judges, gods, follow'd persons of the earth,
These are contain'd in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself.

Without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex,
Without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers.

Now I will dismiss myself from impassive women,
I will go stay with her who waits for me, and with those women that
are warm-blooded and sufficient for me,
I see that they understand me and do not deny me,
I see that they are worthy of me, I will be the robust husband of
those women.

They are not one jot less than I am,
They are tann'd in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,
Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,
They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike,
retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves,
They are ultimate in their own right--they are calm, clear,
well-possess'd of themselves.

I draw you close to me, you women,
I cannot let you go, I would do you good,
I am for you, and you are for me, not only for our own sake, but for
others' sakes,
Envelop'd in you sleep greater heroes and bards,
They refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me.

It is I, you women, I make my way,
I am stern, acrid, large, undissuadable, but I love you,
I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you,
I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these States, I
press with slow rude muscle,
I brace myself effectually, I listen to no entreaties,
I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me.

Through you I drain the pent-up rivers of myself,
In you I wrap a thousand onward years,
On you I graft the grafts of the best-beloved of me and America,
The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls,
new artists, musicians, and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn,
I shall demand perfect men and women out of my love-spendings,
I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others, as I and you
inter-penetrate now,
I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them, as I
count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give now,
I shall look for loving crops from the birth, life, death,
immortality, I plant so lovingly now.

Signs & Wonders #1 - Microblogging

or Tumblr, for now.

I logged into my Tumblr account that I had created a couple of years ago and found a single audio clip. It was a female voice announcing the "end of the line" from when I used to commute to Mountain View by train. Quasi artsy? Check. Emo twee-dom? Check. But I'm only partly to blame.

The platform itself is designed to be a pseudo creative outlet for people who do not want to put in the effort into forming coherent, original  thoughts and converting that to composition. You can add quotes, share pictures, videos & links. Oh you want to write a couple of paragraphs? Fuck you. I get it, this is where the "micro" in microblogging comes in, but that will also end up being the size of your brain. Designed and maintained for people who'd rather quote Mark Twain than read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.

I'm not above watching a youtube video of car collisions in Russia, but it at least doesn't pretend to be something it's not - a waste of time.

In trying to expand my mustard sized attention-span thanks to sites like Huf Post, anything on Tumblr, Cracked.com etc., I quit reading all of their content about a year ago. Here's some of what I've been reading lately:
http://byliner.com/spotlights/101-spectacular-nonfiction-stories
http://www.thehindu.com/

Next step - quit news.google.com and find a half-decent american news source.

**Update**
The CEO and founder of Tumblr looks like this:

Now I'm even more certain.

Bald Norma Desmond

-courtesy of Neiman Marcus after-dark