come seek us where our voices sound.
elsewhere, that is.
http://bluestgrey.blogspot.com/
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thursday, October 8, 2009
contact lens
Every morning, before I go anywhere, I put one little transparent thing into each eye, to help clear up the world.
Now I know the trouble is with my eyes; I used to think the world was being vague on purpose.
Now I know the trouble is with my eyes; I used to think the world was being vague on purpose.
Monday, October 5, 2009
the brave man is terrified of kangaroos.
the designer wears pret sometimes.
the salt-and-pepper professor who says to his students, Your Comments?, says to his wife, oh just shut up.
the historian didn't know his great-grandfather died in the War.
the person of intense feeling is indifferent to cacti.
the witty cartoonist doesn't like it when people poke fun at his thinning hair. but he laughs.
the Jat hulk giggles.
the house is painted every spring, but only on the front and sides.
the modern woman has a soft smile while she watches a cooing baby.
he realises one day that they've always done what his pliant housewife wanted.
on the banks of the jealously protected flowing river, one night every year they have a discoparty, and everyone has fun and throws in plastic cups with little splashes and bottles which sink, sparkling green in the watery light, to the bottom.
the designer wears pret sometimes.
the salt-and-pepper professor who says to his students, Your Comments?, says to his wife, oh just shut up.
the historian didn't know his great-grandfather died in the War.
the person of intense feeling is indifferent to cacti.
the witty cartoonist doesn't like it when people poke fun at his thinning hair. but he laughs.
the Jat hulk giggles.
the house is painted every spring, but only on the front and sides.
the modern woman has a soft smile while she watches a cooing baby.
he realises one day that they've always done what his pliant housewife wanted.
on the banks of the jealously protected flowing river, one night every year they have a discoparty, and everyone has fun and throws in plastic cups with little splashes and bottles which sink, sparkling green in the watery light, to the bottom.
When he woke up the first time and thought, he got it all figured out.
Lots of things licked and the machine began to run smoothly, with only those things clinking that ought to clink, and nothing clanking at all.
When he got up and went to school and learnt his alphabets and words and numbers, he tucked them in at the tips of his tongue and his fingers, and pressed them in securely. From that salubrious spot, they flowed freely and surely to the top of his class, and then near-top in school. When he wanted to study, he studied, when he didn't study, he nearly failed. he didn't mind those times, because he had not-studied on purpose. once there had been an awesome football match that he couldn't dream of missing, the other time, he just hadn't felt like it. altogether, he escaped in good shape, became games captain and loved it, minded a bit at missing school captain, but got over it. Went out with this girl because he thought she was really pretty, and then gave it up because she was a pain. Kept a photograph, though.
Went to a good college for a course it wasn't good for. He'd also got through an unknown college with better faculty, but he thought he'd learn more here. He didn't learn as much as the hype had said he would, but he did learn quite a bit. Joined the debate group. Enjoyed it thoroughly. Taught them all table tennis, one by one. They used to do this thing of parrying arguments simultaneously with their shots. They won a lot. Made friends, laughed, drank, smoked, ate. Did pretty well generally. He got into trouble once about climbing on the roof, they thought it was an attempt to infiltrate the girls' hostel, but it was just an attempt to climb on the roof. If they'd had time, they'd have raised a chuddy on the flagpole. They did the next time, but it fell off before morning, so nothing happened.
He got a job in journalism, mostly field reporting. Then he moved to advertising, not in the creative department, but in finance. Rose in the company at the ordinary pace. Rented a flat with a good view out of two windows. Had a bike, but only took it out for the weekend trips, with friends or alone, to those 4-hour-drive places. Sometimes he took his girlfriend, mostly when it was hill-stations. It's nice to have a love-interest in the hills. Beside the sea, you're never alone like that.
Married at twenty nine, this sensible, pretty girl who liked him, and their families got along too. They had two kids in five years, two girls who both resembled his family- they had the medium length, straight nose, and determined chin.
It all went off well. Very well. People liked him. Even if he disagreed with them, he didn't come back pleading for forgiveness. If he said he was sorry, it was honest and unembarassed and a handshake always sealed it. When he got to love his woman, it was with honest appreciation and without a surfeit of emotion. When, twenty two years later, she died, he was sad but not crotchety. When, at fifty, director of the company, he retired, he wished he could have become M.D., but knew he'd have had to be in Creative at some point for that. Creative people with even a few months of Finance and Management could aspire to it, but the others couldn't aspire to it at all. All else could be picked up, but with creativity you either had it or you didn't.
He had four years of grandkids and adjusting to a world in which he represented the past. He refused to stop being active, drank and smoked as he hadn't done all his useful years, ate lots of good food and died of a heart attack. He didn't mind, I think. He knew what he was doing. From all I ever saw of him, I'd say he wouldn't mind.
Lots of things licked and the machine began to run smoothly, with only those things clinking that ought to clink, and nothing clanking at all.
When he got up and went to school and learnt his alphabets and words and numbers, he tucked them in at the tips of his tongue and his fingers, and pressed them in securely. From that salubrious spot, they flowed freely and surely to the top of his class, and then near-top in school. When he wanted to study, he studied, when he didn't study, he nearly failed. he didn't mind those times, because he had not-studied on purpose. once there had been an awesome football match that he couldn't dream of missing, the other time, he just hadn't felt like it. altogether, he escaped in good shape, became games captain and loved it, minded a bit at missing school captain, but got over it. Went out with this girl because he thought she was really pretty, and then gave it up because she was a pain. Kept a photograph, though.
Went to a good college for a course it wasn't good for. He'd also got through an unknown college with better faculty, but he thought he'd learn more here. He didn't learn as much as the hype had said he would, but he did learn quite a bit. Joined the debate group. Enjoyed it thoroughly. Taught them all table tennis, one by one. They used to do this thing of parrying arguments simultaneously with their shots. They won a lot. Made friends, laughed, drank, smoked, ate. Did pretty well generally. He got into trouble once about climbing on the roof, they thought it was an attempt to infiltrate the girls' hostel, but it was just an attempt to climb on the roof. If they'd had time, they'd have raised a chuddy on the flagpole. They did the next time, but it fell off before morning, so nothing happened.
He got a job in journalism, mostly field reporting. Then he moved to advertising, not in the creative department, but in finance. Rose in the company at the ordinary pace. Rented a flat with a good view out of two windows. Had a bike, but only took it out for the weekend trips, with friends or alone, to those 4-hour-drive places. Sometimes he took his girlfriend, mostly when it was hill-stations. It's nice to have a love-interest in the hills. Beside the sea, you're never alone like that.
Married at twenty nine, this sensible, pretty girl who liked him, and their families got along too. They had two kids in five years, two girls who both resembled his family- they had the medium length, straight nose, and determined chin.
It all went off well. Very well. People liked him. Even if he disagreed with them, he didn't come back pleading for forgiveness. If he said he was sorry, it was honest and unembarassed and a handshake always sealed it. When he got to love his woman, it was with honest appreciation and without a surfeit of emotion. When, twenty two years later, she died, he was sad but not crotchety. When, at fifty, director of the company, he retired, he wished he could have become M.D., but knew he'd have had to be in Creative at some point for that. Creative people with even a few months of Finance and Management could aspire to it, but the others couldn't aspire to it at all. All else could be picked up, but with creativity you either had it or you didn't.
He had four years of grandkids and adjusting to a world in which he represented the past. He refused to stop being active, drank and smoked as he hadn't done all his useful years, ate lots of good food and died of a heart attack. He didn't mind, I think. He knew what he was doing. From all I ever saw of him, I'd say he wouldn't mind.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
No smoke without fire, no smoke without fire. Haha.
Miss Marple always said so, and Miss Marple is always right.
She said that people have a sense about these things. They're not right about the particulars, but they get the general picture, and well.
And she was right.
Is the reverse also true ? Jane Austen contends so. She says half of love is vanity- you are so delighted that someone should love you, that out of gratitude you go and love them as well. But that ought not to be love in the strictly correct sense. It ought to be falling in love with love. But is there a difference. Does it matter, the object of the love, at all ? Or is love merely another way of relating to yourself ? Jung said so- he said something to the effect that the partner a person chose was a projection of the unexpressed side of their personality.
Ah well. Who knows.
Miss Marple, but Christie's dead now, so that's no help.
Miss Marple always said so, and Miss Marple is always right.
She said that people have a sense about these things. They're not right about the particulars, but they get the general picture, and well.
And she was right.
Is the reverse also true ? Jane Austen contends so. She says half of love is vanity- you are so delighted that someone should love you, that out of gratitude you go and love them as well. But that ought not to be love in the strictly correct sense. It ought to be falling in love with love. But is there a difference. Does it matter, the object of the love, at all ? Or is love merely another way of relating to yourself ? Jung said so- he said something to the effect that the partner a person chose was a projection of the unexpressed side of their personality.
Ah well. Who knows.
Miss Marple, but Christie's dead now, so that's no help.
Monday, September 21, 2009
There was a dead lizard in the bathroom today. In the corner, under the door.
I noticed it because of the ants. The swarms of ants around it, jealously covering it up, wholly devouring it. Climbing on top of each other to get to that dry, white underbelly facing upwards, hungry, red.
I stared at it. I couldn't stop. I stared at it and then I backed out of the loo and tried to avoid looking at it again. Nausea rose at the thought of it lying there, sickening, yellow-green thing, tail a stub, eyes hidden beneath the mound of scavengers cleaning it up.
Why is this important ? There are lizards by the hundreds here, they all have to die sometime, and the ants... i know that this happens. Like when there are dead animals in the road. But it isn't when they're just dead that it's horrible, even though they smell, and shrivel and stiffen in positions of pain. It's when they're crushed, or mutilated in some way that I cringe inside, and shiver and hurt.
Would it be better to die unsullied than to live mutilated ? I think so. But then, I have no experience of dying.
I noticed it because of the ants. The swarms of ants around it, jealously covering it up, wholly devouring it. Climbing on top of each other to get to that dry, white underbelly facing upwards, hungry, red.
I stared at it. I couldn't stop. I stared at it and then I backed out of the loo and tried to avoid looking at it again. Nausea rose at the thought of it lying there, sickening, yellow-green thing, tail a stub, eyes hidden beneath the mound of scavengers cleaning it up.
Why is this important ? There are lizards by the hundreds here, they all have to die sometime, and the ants... i know that this happens. Like when there are dead animals in the road. But it isn't when they're just dead that it's horrible, even though they smell, and shrivel and stiffen in positions of pain. It's when they're crushed, or mutilated in some way that I cringe inside, and shiver and hurt.
Would it be better to die unsullied than to live mutilated ? I think so. But then, I have no experience of dying.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
the conversation after.
We shouldn't be here. We should be at home, glued to our television screens like the rest of humanity.
The blasts in Baghdad ?
The floods in Bihar.
Typhoons in Bangladesh.
Hurricanes in north America.
Civil war in Rwanda.
In large parts of Africa.
What else ?
Someone got raped in the Capital.
Someone is always being raped in the Capital. No offence to the deeply disturbed victim, but Delhi seems to be quite the place for those getting raped.
And those doing the raping.
O yes, those too.
And we should be home, appendages to the television screens.
Definitely, extensions of them that we are... This isn't it. What is it ?
What is something someone said today.
Alright, so many specifics down, just a few more to go...
Someone said it was time in the Harry-met-Sally saga for us to be... falling for each other.
Who was it ? Irrelevant, but who ?
Some girl. I don't remember her too well. The point was, she said it, but she more than meant it, she meant it as though she was the spokesperson for public opinion in general.
Yes, well, she might be.
But…
Hm ?
It isn’t… true.
Not for me, either, you don’t have to look all apprehensive.
Phew. But you to me was the more unlikely, anyway.
Another weird complex ? But then, I am the hotter one, yes…
And the more modest one-
I knew you were going to say that. You really have to think of something new.
Are you trying to divert the conversation ?
Not really. I’d only have to do that if I was uncomfortable, wouldn’t I ?
Oh, I don’t know…
Again with the noone-can-see-into-another-person’s-head thing? You know me inside out. Don’t quibble about it. You do.
…
And now you’re trying to change the topic. Now it’s my turn to wonder…
No, I don’t have feelings for you, O swollen-headed-one. And I was trying to explain, but I sort of messed it up badly, because… there wasn’t any reason.
Why not, you mean ?
Yes.
Well… actually. The gap in surface attributes, of course… just kidding, kidding…
Seriously, can you think of anything?
N…no.
So then how do you explain ?
I don’t. The people who need to know, understand.
Yes, but sometimes, you- well, not you, I. I’ve got to explain this to other people. Explain that I’m not in love with you, and why. Silly thing to have to explain, and more difficult than I expected…
Yes, but get on with it. You want my opinion on what you should say ? I’d still say nothing. But, if you must…
No, I just realized… that someone’s already mentioned it.
Who ?
He. He mentioned it one evening when we were sitting out in a slight, cool drizzle and a thin breeze blowing, and we were talking about idols…
Hm…?
…And he said that the two things were separate, this surface admiration, and the feeling. He said that he could think a girl beautiful, but it didn’t change what he thought of her, or felt about her, one inch.
So is it three separate things, then ? Admiration, for surface attributes, liking, and love ?
Yes, I think so. Lovely, simple way to put it, wasn’t it ? And he said he’d never seen the point behind people idolizing others for what they were. For something they were without effort, naturally. For one thing, it wasn’t to their credit that they should, for example, have some great natural skill at acting. And at the same time, by admiring what they were, you were setting yourself up for an unnecessary and, necessarily disadvantageous comparison, why am I this and not the other ? It makes no sense. You are what you are. Admire someone for the effort they have put in to learn something, acquire some information, some better methods of doing things. That’s something they’ve done, and it’s fair to judge them on that.
Listen, you…
Hm…. What ?
You know, you’re talking about him an awful lot. And with this oddly soft voice… Are you sure… you don’t… you know,…
Oh shut up. That’s the way he talks. Softly and reflectively. And I’m not in love with him, I just like him. And why… you’re voice changed slightly there, and your face… Why do you care ?
The blasts in Baghdad ?
The floods in Bihar.
Typhoons in Bangladesh.
Hurricanes in north America.
Civil war in Rwanda.
In large parts of Africa.
What else ?
Someone got raped in the Capital.
Someone is always being raped in the Capital. No offence to the deeply disturbed victim, but Delhi seems to be quite the place for those getting raped.
And those doing the raping.
O yes, those too.
And we should be home, appendages to the television screens.
Definitely, extensions of them that we are... This isn't it. What is it ?
What is something someone said today.
Alright, so many specifics down, just a few more to go...
Someone said it was time in the Harry-met-Sally saga for us to be... falling for each other.
Who was it ? Irrelevant, but who ?
Some girl. I don't remember her too well. The point was, she said it, but she more than meant it, she meant it as though she was the spokesperson for public opinion in general.
Yes, well, she might be.
But…
Hm ?
It isn’t… true.
Not for me, either, you don’t have to look all apprehensive.
Phew. But you to me was the more unlikely, anyway.
Another weird complex ? But then, I am the hotter one, yes…
And the more modest one-
I knew you were going to say that. You really have to think of something new.
Are you trying to divert the conversation ?
Not really. I’d only have to do that if I was uncomfortable, wouldn’t I ?
Oh, I don’t know…
Again with the noone-can-see-into-another-person’s-head thing? You know me inside out. Don’t quibble about it. You do.
…
And now you’re trying to change the topic. Now it’s my turn to wonder…
No, I don’t have feelings for you, O swollen-headed-one. And I was trying to explain, but I sort of messed it up badly, because… there wasn’t any reason.
Why not, you mean ?
Yes.
Well… actually. The gap in surface attributes, of course… just kidding, kidding…
Seriously, can you think of anything?
N…no.
So then how do you explain ?
I don’t. The people who need to know, understand.
Yes, but sometimes, you- well, not you, I. I’ve got to explain this to other people. Explain that I’m not in love with you, and why. Silly thing to have to explain, and more difficult than I expected…
Yes, but get on with it. You want my opinion on what you should say ? I’d still say nothing. But, if you must…
No, I just realized… that someone’s already mentioned it.
Who ?
He. He mentioned it one evening when we were sitting out in a slight, cool drizzle and a thin breeze blowing, and we were talking about idols…
Hm…?
…And he said that the two things were separate, this surface admiration, and the feeling. He said that he could think a girl beautiful, but it didn’t change what he thought of her, or felt about her, one inch.
So is it three separate things, then ? Admiration, for surface attributes, liking, and love ?
Yes, I think so. Lovely, simple way to put it, wasn’t it ? And he said he’d never seen the point behind people idolizing others for what they were. For something they were without effort, naturally. For one thing, it wasn’t to their credit that they should, for example, have some great natural skill at acting. And at the same time, by admiring what they were, you were setting yourself up for an unnecessary and, necessarily disadvantageous comparison, why am I this and not the other ? It makes no sense. You are what you are. Admire someone for the effort they have put in to learn something, acquire some information, some better methods of doing things. That’s something they’ve done, and it’s fair to judge them on that.
Listen, you…
Hm…. What ?
You know, you’re talking about him an awful lot. And with this oddly soft voice… Are you sure… you don’t… you know,…
Oh shut up. That’s the way he talks. Softly and reflectively. And I’m not in love with him, I just like him. And why… you’re voice changed slightly there, and your face… Why do you care ?
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