Saturday, August 22, 2009

Vir Sanghvi - sigh.

Yet, yet, yet again, Vir Sanghvi has made me gush like a lovesick teen. He's every writer's rockstar, he's just got to be! At this very moment if you ask me to choose between drinks with Roger Waters, Kurt Cobain's ghost or Vir Sanghvi, I'll take Sanghvi!

A few years ago, I felt a warm glow spreading through me when he likened Raj Thackeray to Mini Me. And today, I laughed uproariously at a sentence in his HT Sunday column, Counterpoint: '...any suggestion that Sardar Patel can't walk on water is anathema to the BJP...' Fanfingfastic - it's not what you say, it's how you say it! The rest of the article is brilliant too, but of course. Ooh, what a writer!

Wistfully told BH that if he wrote like Sanghvi, I'd be the happiest woman in the world. For a change BH didn't sneer. He looked wistful too - not because he gave a rodent's posterior about making me the happiest woman in the world, but oh, to write like Sanghvi! Had to reassure him that he wrote wonderfully well too. I mean that's why I had the hots for him, because of all those amusing notes he'd pin up on my softboard in office.

And now for a spot of perspective. I don't lurve Sanghvi's Rude Food column in Brunch. It's hit or miss, and frankly, I don't live the high live (nor wish to - ew) so I can take it or leave it.

I don't think we agree on music either. Frinstance I love Tull (and always will), he scoffs at Ian Anderson's Flamingo act on stage - which I rather like, hello, it's iconic. But when it comes to politics, Sanghvi's my man - my main man.

And while on the subject of music, my ex-colleague and bore-buster Pearl the Perilous One, sent me an mp3 clip of an early '80s Brit band - The Cult. Great sound, sexy lyrics. Almost like The Doors without Ray Manzarek. Yum.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The Griffin has announced that it's godawful poetry fortnight, YAY!

Should you have the urge to spout some godawful pomes, click this link: Son of Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

BTW, my humble contribution to this fantastic, much-looked-forward to annual event:
They dragged me with brute force to the door,
Callously kicked me down the stairs below-
And screeched like the oft quoted Raven, “Nevermore!”

I staggered to my feet and limped my way across the street,
With fumbling fingers groped for my pack of woe,
And struck a match - Ah, even in adversity life can be sweet.

So now I wander lonely spewing dark, belligerent clouds,
That lurk on high o’er the stained cityscape,
And insidiously creep into the lungs of the teeming crowds.

All I ask for is Keats' Grecian urn to tip the ash,
While contributing generously to the city's smog,
It wouldn’t hurt would it, that dead sexy touch of dash?

Sunday, August 16, 2009

To go or not to go - that is the question.

Got a bad case of the sniffles on Thursday night. By Friday morning, low grade fever had set in. Followed family rule and drank vodka that night - to kill the germs. These germs were made of sterner stuff. Hastily browsed through swine flu symptoms on the net the next day. Heck, they're the same as normal flu! Who can tell? Generously gave BH the sniffles and fever too. We have decided to be noble and skip office tomorrow. Well, BH insists on keeping his colleagues out of Kasturba Hospital. I'm still the new girl in school so am not quite sure what I should do. Let's see how I feel in the morning. Damn. Hope throat swabs are not required.

Monday, August 10, 2009

Excuse moi garcon, there's a dragon in my fruit!

Tried dragonfruit for the first time. Apprehensive (as always) because it looks kind of like an armoured vehicle, and was persuaded that it would taste metallic. T'was scrum, though. A tinge of sweetness and a tinge of tartness - perfick, tres refeshing! The nicest thing about it is that it's so easy to eat. Cut it in the middle and scoop it out, period. Cherries, however, remain my fav. fruit. Nothing can beat it on the tastometer, not even chocolate.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Can't work in my nightie anymore, WAAAAAAAH!

Whenever my bank balance dips to shocking levels, I exchange my pretty, faded nighties for work wear and do full time at an office. Can't rely on the dribs and drabs I get from freelance to fatten my piggybank, or even make it pleasantly plump.

So, I've been working full time for one week now, and I must say I miss my nighties so bad, it hurts! Trying hard to be stoical about it. Sternly reminding self that when bills have to be paid, even jharoo-pocha assignments are a blessing. Consoling self that the people I'm working with are rather nice, but know deep down inside that even if I worked in an office with a pub and live rock acts and a Belgian chocolate dispenser, I would hate it because it eats into my time. God, working from home is such a joy- was such a joy. Sniff.