ustad by night

last night ustad bismillah khan made a reappearance during some frenetic REM. and i was slapped into humility all over again. considering i'd just watched the secret lives of NFL cheerleaders, the dream was singularly incongruous. yet this is how it stands. and i have a not so good feeling about the dream. ummm. i remember a friend who was there with me when i pressed the shutter on the ustad breaking into an impulsive rendition of bhairavi. and he's moved on. i don't know what he's up to. i wonder if i truly don't care anymore. is it possible, that i've become heartless?

steely dan sings,
"yes he's changed.
in a thousand different ways he's changed."

sigh.

aperture priority

i'm trying really hard to constrict and dilate my pupils at will.
groan.

kreegah

"if only i had ten fandis,
all with the skills of v. sundaramurthy,
then there would be more action.
we wouldn't face any relegation.
then no one can beat singapore.
not even pahang or johore.
we will win the malaysia cup.
we will not be called kuching kurap.

ok boys, let us hear the lion roar!
meow."

this picture just got de-classified.

do tara

you've had a wonderful day and you wind up thinking, 'how come they don't make all days like this one?'

Après nous, le déluge.

blow it dom

cry, cry, baby
there are tough days. and then more

woke up this morning and wished i didn't. and then you go out into the world and discover you still have friends.

jogo bonito

truckin home very blotto
brigade road was a silver ribbon
the rain was coming down
and so were giant sized nike footballs

कुँग फु

biff bang biff biff
crash
biff pow pow biff bang
"owwwwwwww! you've been trained in the secret art of wudan."
"wudan is whore house."
biff pow wow biff bang

one ms. alice

plot no 4. 1st grave on your left, once you turn right from the jesus junction. st. patrick's cemetry. old peace haunt. revisited.

zili

"zili! amasesendini, amasesendi, old man!
you are a witch, sesendini!
what's that kind of meat! sesendin!
it has got no tail! it has no horn! sesendin!"

we're gonna have a soul shake down party tonight.
hit it brother yo!

do the tapang

he called himself karab muniswamy. and played a mean tapang beat. some protest was happening alongside. and somebody got arrested. but that was merely background detail. karab stuck his tongue out. swung his locks around. and almost punctured my one functional eardrum.

nowhere to go...

...but the horizon.

lesson learnt: water resistant does not equal water proof.

quantum

ok so browne has been slyly promoting the lounge piranhas. though i'm mildly surprised that he should be promoting anything but his own agenda, i don't blame him. these guys have infectious groove, dreamy layering, a bassie who stays put in the middle of the whirlpool swirling around him and a drummer at the heart who punches away beautifully. the Lounge susrpisingly manage the same reception traditionally reserved for a rehearsed metal staple and the such. and to watch a band out there whip up some frenzy with originals is a heartening sight. kudos to them and an entire city that 'knows good music when it comes up and bites them in the ass.'

how do you spell jimi?

this is a riot! original 60s poster of the original guitar god desecrated by some bucolic bovine belt village idiot!

the sign of the v

a few eons ago, i think it was mannish pole who called her the lone lady sheriff. like every mannish gem, i can't agree with the title more. and this after a seven year retrospective. lawd. give me some of that wisdom. hell! upstairs really hates me. i'm 25 and even my wisdom teeth haven't made an appearance as yet.

forever young

after shaking off a birthday and a glorious weekend, i'm trying really hard to squeeze back into old pants, a routine and the like. meanwhile it strikes me, i've been clicking away at a curious bunch of people. pbs last month and this virtuoso music director called hamsalekha a few days ago. then there were these two bonafide geriatrics. it's all beginning to cook.
hmmm.