My muse
Nilu has his Raapi
Chenthil has his Hindu/N.Ram
Amit Varma has his cows
I realised just now the reason why my blog sucks is that I don’t have a real muse, a guy/girl who will inspire me, bring out the witty sarcasm I know I have in me.
I begged Nilu to let me have Raapi, now that he found a few more people. But no. Nilu wouldn’t. Friggin selfish bastard. So, I searched hard. Searched long. I looked deep into the recesses of my heart to see who on earth in this blogosphere I can call my muse. Just when things looked bleak. I found him. I have my own little mouse, er…muse, to play with. To base posts on. To laugh at, derisively. And to cry, in frustration. To be inspired from. And to be proud of, for I am way better. Way, way better.
A round of applause, friends and foes of SelAm. Welcome on stage, my own Raapi – Mr. Shivam Vij.
(P.S. Unlike my Raapi, I don’t mind sharing my google-juice. See, that’s how good I am to my muse)
Link up
If you still haven’t read Silver Screen, shame on you.
More shame, especially, if you follow tamil or telegu movies. Why the link? Well, I saw this awesome, awesome video of our dear Gaptan, and can’t thank Manoj & Karthik and Doz enough for setting Silverscreen up without which, I would never have seen this brilliant clip. (Yes, I know. I did see Sudesi. But I was asleep at this point)
Talking of movies, here’s a blog you might want to bookmark. Triviapettai, by fellow sufferer Unantha. Triviapettai, as the name suggests, is well, a blog about film – Tamil, mostly – trivia.
4 bucks a phrase.
Git your magically neo-realistic post-modernistic expressions, right here.
Remind me
To finish writing up my travel pieces on NH45.
To finish writing up that story I started ages ago when this blog had its plug pulled
To make fun of those on the other side.
To make fun of myself enough times
To write my own eulogy
To finish work on my portfolio (Not the site, which is in safe hands, but the actual portfolio)
I haven’t been well
Which explains why I haven’t been able to make jabs at a few people I usually take jabs at. Besides, my constant jabs at the guy, also known as kid, seems to have had no effect.
Time for some pingback
I came up with a pithy and profound line, just now. “Work for the short haul. Think for the long”.
Clever, ain’t I? And a great writer too. Yup. I am good. So good infact, that I know for a fact that there are only two people on this here earth who can write like I do. And I am one of them.
So, as I walk down the lonely road (there, hidden reference to a favourite author done), I reflect on such things. Where to eat, being one of them. I also reflect on more prosaic things – such as how to begin my Open Trackback – Weekend trackback posts. I decided today that straight and simple would do, just fine.
Hang on a moment, you say. What the fuck is Open Trackback?
Here:
The entire concept is to encourage bloggers to showcase their best recent articles on other blogs which may not otherwise recognize or know about their works.
Open Trackback Alliance members have agreed to create an open article at least once a week, which anyone can create a link to their own blog articles…
So here goes. This is what the fine people of the Open Trackback Alliance are talking of, this weekend.
Freedom Watch: Separation of Perversion & Normalcy. | Oblogatory Anecdotes: Zarqawi Died A Slow Painfull Death | Blue Star Chronicles: Self Pity Open Trackback Weekend | Woman, Honor thyself: Birthday Open Trackbacks | Stuck on Stupid: Post Zarqawi Weekend Open Post June 9-11 2006 | Samantha Burns: It’s That Time Again, Boys And Girls – OTA | 7 Deadly sins: Pride: Open Trackbacks | The Uncooperative Blogger: Only Democrats Could Snatch Defeat from the Jaws of Victory | This May or May not: The Green Mill | Tel-Chai-Nation: Here’s where Canada’s problem comes in | Tel-Chai-Nation: IAF kills PLO member named Jamal Abu Samhadana | Case notes for the artsy asylum: Do Blogs Plus Art Plus People Equal Art People?
With due apologies to Pablo Neruda
And it was at that age…photography arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no, they were not images, they were not
light, nor dark,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to show, my eyes
had no way
with names
my films were cheap,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire
and I shot the first blurred face,
noisy, without focus, amateur
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating planations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesmal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
I felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke free on the open sky.
(original)
About
Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan is a copywriter, photographer and goofball from Chennai. He is also an archaeologist, historian and a city lover. He is currently a documentary film-maker and desk-monkey for a film production house.
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