Yes, I’ve been mum for too long. Far too long. While people across the world have been sharing trivial to monumental details of their insignificant to eventful lives with life partners to perfect strangers. I too want a part of the non-action. It’s the other side of existential loneliness- I hear you Eric Fromm. Well, baah. Welcome to the age of voyeurism. Count me in.
So here you are, reading this. There has to be some fringe benefit to that. Let me suggest some sung poetry to begin with. Go. Buy some Leonard Cohen. I once heard someone call him ‘poor man’s Bob Dylan’. As to what I think, he has a voice from the Big Band era, but a soul that’s a shade darker than Ozzy Osbourne. Listen to him croon about what he’d do to be the man to the object of his affection-
Ah, the moon's too bright
The chain's too tight
The beast won't go to sleep
I've been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep
Ah but a man never got a woman back
Not by begging on his knees
Or I'd crawl to you baby
And I'd fall at your feet
And I'd howl at your beauty
Like a dog in heat
And I'd claw at your heart
And I'd tear at your sheet
I'd say please, please
I'm your man
And well, there is so much more to marvel at. Besides the haunting bittersweet song called ‘Hallelujah’ that has been covered in the soundtrack of ‘Shrek’.
Or you can try some ‘Blue Oyster Cult’ if you wish to sample prog-rock. But more about that later.
I saw Aviator. Now I saw Leo for the first time as a retarded kid in ‘What’s eating Gilbert Grapes’. I was impressed. Then I chanced upon the puke-inducing mush-fest called Titanic. I have considered Leo way too sissy ever since. Then I saw ‘The Beach’. And I went- hmmm… that’s not bad, not bad at all. Then there was Romeo+Juliet. Uggh I go. And now there’s Aviator. And he rocks once again. What shall we do with you O-Leo-o-Leo?
My wife has been away for a while. For those who don’t know me and are still reading on, my wife is with the Indian Army, and she’s been in Pune for the last 5 and a half months. Oh yes, she has been visiting every 1 and a half month. Still, the longer we are away, the mushier I feel for her. Yes, the mush that makes you think of flowers, and love songs, and letters. (With due apologies to the long haired Gods of rock who sermonise about the all-pervasiveness of wrath, hate and cynicism). I love my wife. I really do. (She will never read this blog, she ain’t the webcrawler kind. So that’s not the reason why I wrote this.) And I’m glad that for once in my life, there is one thing that’s not the proverbial lemon.
Now this is too long an entry so I better stop. C-ya later, alligators.