i used coins to pay for the subway fare and then paper money for lunch ( awesome - kirim palak and rumali roti, i want to marry you) and then i used some acebucks to buy a virtual skateboard and fluffmoney to buy virtual petfood and then i had to make my dragon chompa koli go out and hunt for some gold, so i could get it some potion as well. it is then that the thought struck me. i am sure moist von lipwig was nudging me along too.
this is going to be the future.
private currency.
there may or may not be stocks, there may or may not be international currency exchange rates, but there will be the MNC money. and everyone knows that the giant corporations spread their tentacles to own everything under the sun. so you'll have, say, a GE money which will be good for buying not only light bulbs and stuff but who knows medicines and a pack of atta as well. and then if you happen to live in a far flung place where the stores are such that MNC1 does not own the stakes, you'll need some MNC2 currency to get by. and depending on the currency you own, your chances of survival will fluctuate. if MNC1 is making profit, you're rich. if not, you're just a sad loser with a bunch of useless assets.
maybe it will be such that you'll have to drink tea because all you have is tata bucks and you finished all the cola money. you'll have to travel in an LPG powered vehicle because you can't own the big oil giant currency.
you'll live in one of the mycotoxin-mentioned MNCnagar and will be entitled to only that a certain kind of food, entertainment, essentials, or even umbrellas.
i can't stop thinking about it. the possibility seems so huge and so inevitable. why haven't they thought of it?
the mind. it boggles.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
sob story 101
i am seriously depressed and for the weirdest fucking reason.
it's been weeks of putting together crappy mushy insane and boring v-day stuff together to fill up pages.
my mother, by way of introduction to a family friend described us as "elderly single ladies".
all the intelligent, smart fun women i know are getting crap . i am getting crap.
while i couldn't care less about v-day, i am putting together a singletons' dinner for 14th and 3 separate conversations with people and scrolling through my phone and mail address book reveals that i don't know any single men living in this city that i can even bring to the dinner, let's not even think dating.
i am having desperate mood swings alternating between feelings of i am immortal and i'll die alone and what will happen to my corpse.
drinking doesn't help.
ditto tripping.
tried making new friends and their tragedies seem bigger than mine.
this girl i met at someplace today says she thinks her corpse will not get time to decompose, the cat will eat her face before that.
if i die ( i can't bring myself to write when i die) my corpse will be undiscovered for months, until passersby notice the stench (my neighbours will be too old and they'll be dead by then) and the cops will come and break the door and find splotchy bits and the lizards will have eaten my eyes, the roaches and the ants most other parts and since this is india, no alsatians will be involved hopefully, but there might just be a stray cat or two.
no one will know i'm dead. no one will miss me when i'm dead.
but then again, if i'm surrounded by ten people when i die, i'll still be dead. and once dead it doesn't matter.
i actually called people and started making binding promises like if we're still single by whenever we'll move in to a commune (can't do the safety net marriage, puhleez) and got 3 people to commit. 2 women and 1 person whom for lack of my descriptive skills we'll refer to as person.
this is ridiculous. but i still feel depressed.
it's been weeks of putting together crappy mushy insane and boring v-day stuff together to fill up pages.
my mother, by way of introduction to a family friend described us as "elderly single ladies".
all the intelligent, smart fun women i know are getting crap . i am getting crap.
while i couldn't care less about v-day, i am putting together a singletons' dinner for 14th and 3 separate conversations with people and scrolling through my phone and mail address book reveals that i don't know any single men living in this city that i can even bring to the dinner, let's not even think dating.
i am having desperate mood swings alternating between feelings of i am immortal and i'll die alone and what will happen to my corpse.
drinking doesn't help.
ditto tripping.
tried making new friends and their tragedies seem bigger than mine.
this girl i met at someplace today says she thinks her corpse will not get time to decompose, the cat will eat her face before that.
if i die ( i can't bring myself to write when i die) my corpse will be undiscovered for months, until passersby notice the stench (my neighbours will be too old and they'll be dead by then) and the cops will come and break the door and find splotchy bits and the lizards will have eaten my eyes, the roaches and the ants most other parts and since this is india, no alsatians will be involved hopefully, but there might just be a stray cat or two.
no one will know i'm dead. no one will miss me when i'm dead.
but then again, if i'm surrounded by ten people when i die, i'll still be dead. and once dead it doesn't matter.
i actually called people and started making binding promises like if we're still single by whenever we'll move in to a commune (can't do the safety net marriage, puhleez) and got 3 people to commit. 2 women and 1 person whom for lack of my descriptive skills we'll refer to as person.
this is ridiculous. but i still feel depressed.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
thirsty kya?
i am reading chitrita banerji's eating india. not spectacularly good, but a comforting book. however, all this food made me thirsty. i think one day i will drink up india and make a documentary on country liquor. i will follow it up with smoking india. but for now, i will record for my own benefit a simple lemon liqueur recipe. not quite limoncello, but quite a solid deal.
all you need is a bottle of fuel and about 6 lemons, ripe yellow ones. fuel is the best because i've been told it's the flatest one without any flavour or smell that could interfere. oh, you need sugar too.
so you need to put half a bottle of the fuel in a glass container. scrape the rind off five lemons and put the lemons in this container. after about half a day, strain the liquid into the glass bottle where you'll keep the thing. then make sugar syrup - heat a cup of sugar and a cup of water together till the liquid darkens. cool it and add to the bottle. now squeeze the remaining lemon and strain it's juice into the bottle. seal it up and park in your fridge for two weeks. serve ice cold in shot glasses with shrimps.
like anyone could really afford or even want to eat caviar. doh.
all you need is a bottle of fuel and about 6 lemons, ripe yellow ones. fuel is the best because i've been told it's the flatest one without any flavour or smell that could interfere. oh, you need sugar too.
so you need to put half a bottle of the fuel in a glass container. scrape the rind off five lemons and put the lemons in this container. after about half a day, strain the liquid into the glass bottle where you'll keep the thing. then make sugar syrup - heat a cup of sugar and a cup of water together till the liquid darkens. cool it and add to the bottle. now squeeze the remaining lemon and strain it's juice into the bottle. seal it up and park in your fridge for two weeks. serve ice cold in shot glasses with shrimps.
like anyone could really afford or even want to eat caviar. doh.
Friday, February 01, 2008
finding voice
nothing earthshaking. but it took me all life to realise that being articulate, being in control of language - even one's mother tongue - is something that your socioeconomic position determines. you have to be able to buy language.
the autowallah was talking to his friend about arbitrary cases filed by the local cop. he took mentality and humanity to be synonymns. all this happening in bengali. "loktar moddhe kono manoshikota nei." he thought it derives from manush. and i was struck not by his usage, but by how easily we take our privileges granted. rather belatedly, i revisited the concept of finding voice, giving voice. i could understand finally why it is so important.
the autowallah was talking to his friend about arbitrary cases filed by the local cop. he took mentality and humanity to be synonymns. all this happening in bengali. "loktar moddhe kono manoshikota nei." he thought it derives from manush. and i was struck not by his usage, but by how easily we take our privileges granted. rather belatedly, i revisited the concept of finding voice, giving voice. i could understand finally why it is so important.
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