'Switched Off'

I'm a huge fan of Kal Penn and some of the movies he has starred in. Specially the Harold and Kumar series. I can't wait till the next installment comes out sometime next year. Here is a link to the trailer, I strongly suggest you see it to see the context of this post.

I finally got a short break and went partying in Boston last weekend. Hotwire.com , fabulous website to use, specially for us Canadians looking for cheap fares to destinations in the States, as long as you are flying from Buffalo Niagara Airport. As I was waiting to board the aircraft, passing through the various security checkpoints, the Harold and Kumar trailer kept flashing in my head and it took a lot of effort to suppress the chuckles that kept occurring. It was curious on how we were all greeted while entering the aircraft, The hostess was cordial right up till the only brown person ( yours truely) emerged from the concourse into the aircraft. It is true when they say that in the animal kingdom predators can smell fear. She froze for a split second, regained her trained poise and smiled at me, a pensive smile. Now I do understand why, and I do appreciate the effort. I really do. Its way better now than it used to be, at least they are trying really hard not to stereotype people. I can almost hear them say in their minds 'Please don't be one of them, I have a cat/dog/child/husband waiting for me at the end of day.' 'Why my flight ??' 'whyyyy'. I walk along the aisle and I can almost hear most of the passengers echo the same concern. Which is still fine with me, as I'm rather well behaved in public and mind my own business, the polite Canadian, settle into my seat, open a 'politically correct' novel and eventually nod off for the rest of the flight. While disembarking the flight, you are greeted by a beaming crew, no more fake smiles, a relieved look on their faces, 'Have a good day Sir', and they really mean it. Again I can hear their thoughts echo, 'Thank you so much for not flipping that switch and letting me/us live another day!'

Overall, my second visit to Boston was interesting. Met a few people I haven't seen in a while. I know I will be returning to the city many more times in the future, but might not be in the presence of the same crowd. The surprising part was how I managed to 'switch off' from work for 4 days. How it was hard to adjust and function without a mountain of work and the constant tension of meeting deadlines. And we thought highschool and college was tough!

Its good to get back to Toronto. Go back to being 'normal'. Recharged and back to the grind. Fancy a drink ?


Edit: thought i should embed the trailer couldn't stop laughing

Bangin' Weekend

So here is a take on client services, from an experience I had over the weekend. I was covering for my Dad at the rental agency, manning the counter, doing the bookings, reservations and turning around cars etc.. or so I thought.. I've been in the client services field for a while now.. four - five years now, noting the body language, tones, gestures .. Over the years it turns to a form of art like mimes ( if you call that art ). At my workplace I am the top dawg, the shite, the-man-to-go-to ( or so I think, yes the ego has landed ).
What I did forget where the initial years, when it did feel like a form of art, the adult industry sort of art. At this point I am going to pause and state that I am not one who is going to deny that I've watched adult oriented (pornographic ) material. Yes I have, some rather bizaare stuff too. Stuff that you wish you hadn't seen before... ANYWAY!, back to the point.. my initial years in customer service was very much artsy.. pornographic, gangbanging artsy. The sort of feeling you'd feel after being violated by a melon artsy.

And thats how my weekend was. Still very sore, very raw, rather amused, grimacing at the fact that I have one more weekend to bear and stay with much more respect for those daring women in the sex industry ( men too I suppose, haven't checked that scene before.. 'the women never camee!!!..'* )

I remain
Yours truely ( and sorely)

GJ




* -> for those who recognized that line from 40 year old virgin .. or was that from another movie ?

Secret Society Security Breach

This is now getting to a point where its downright annoying. So most of the lads/lassies I've known over the years have/are getting married. Why do they just drift into another plane of existence after they tie the knot ? Is there some kind of an elite secret club that they get interred into? Or do these folk now think they are just better than the rest of us singletons ? Or is it the fact that perhaps I/We know just too much about their pre-marital existence that they rather the world not know ?

For those who are reading this blog, damn straight I mean you Mister/Missy ! I've been noticing this for a while, but you know the rules:
- Once -> hap-happens
- Twice -> Co-incidence
- Thrice -> Enemy fire!

I understand the fact that things change after 'the event' but you can't just erase your own identity completely. this little tricks been going on for a few centuries apparently..I'm on you people! and this post is to make the public aware of its existence.

I'm going to make this post short and simple ( I think I'm being traced as I type this), in event of my 'mysterious disappearance' or 'sudden nuptial'. All readers beware.

Signing out in fear of his life and individual identity I remain...

Your truly

GJ


--

till later

 GJ

-------------------------------------------------
"per astera ad astram"

'Indian' Identity

I tried to refrain, more than once, gritting my teeth and nails digging into the palm of my hand. I JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE so here goes...

My fellow Indian/Brown/South-Asian folk. In all social blog sites, some of you, well most of you outside the North-American Continent, have listed yourself as 'ASIAN'.  Asian ethnical classification is for the 'Chinese'  folk specifically. South Asians, especially Indians belong to another category 'East-Indian'.

Now for those of you who are wondering why the prefix 'east'. Blame that on Columbus and his discovery of 'India'. Over the centuries the Caribbean came to be known as the West Indies. Now this you should know since most of you are rabid cricket fans. You DO see the 'West-Indian' players. So for the rest of the world, 'Indians' from 'India' are termed as the 'East-Indians'. In the Americas, both North and South, there is the presence of another sort of 'Indian'. No, you DONT call them 'Red Indians'. That's a derogatory term. They are the First Nation people (up north) or 'Native Indians'.

At this point, my fellow Indians, who love a good debate and senseless arguments to prove the validity of their statement, will state that India is also a part of 'Asia' hence, they are Asians too. Look at the geography books again lads and lassies, we come from the 'SUB CONTINENT'. It is a very significant lanf feature and section of Asia, like 'Indo-China' or South East Asia. There is a sub category available for you folks specifically called 'South-Asian' or in some cases for those of you Pakistanis who do get offended for being classified as 'East-Indian' a more generic classification would be more suitable.

This post was purely for information sake, and lads – lassies, please look-listen-learn-inculcate. We all learn something new every day.

Post Scriptum:

For those Pakistanis who were offended by being called 'Indians' now you know how we feel for being called pakis all our lives! (Just kidding, we are all in the same boat in the wide world, South Asian it is.)

Paradise Lost

Scribbled and scratching
Half finished pages at dawn
People that live here are wondering
Where all their strengths gone.
Moments of splendor
Wind up like ashes in rain,
One look you're smiling,
Another your face is in pain.
I wake up at night
With the sweat on my head.
A look in your eyes
That will haunt me 'til dead.
I just can't seem to shake it
Something about what you said;
How love's like an orphan,
A motherless child gone unfed.

So we laugh with the joker,
Hold back the tears 'til they're gone.
Drink and be merry
They'll find us all dead men at dawn.
We're so far away
From wherever we came.
That sometimes
I wonder we'll see it again
It's true, what they say
You can't always go home
You can't always be warm inside.
That in love we're like orphans,
Strangers in paradise

I promised Mahesh that I would post it in sync with his posting. So there. I believe I have posted this poem before. Reminds me of the book Hearts in Atlantis. Curious no matter how much your universe expands, the core lessons that molds your ideology remains the same. Over the decades, you may add a book or two to that list, but its always the same select few.
She was brilliant. I remember quite vividly. Ours was left unfed, orphaned and abandoned. We've built our own since then. Tangential Universes. We met years later, we knew the words, words left unsaid.. strangers in our respective paradise.

Behind the Iron Curtain

I have wrestled with this thought for years and I have finally made up my mind. With Andreea's help I have plotted my little Byzantine Adventure.

It all begins at the centre of the greatest civilization in Europe. The city of 7 hills, the city founded by the two brothers Romulus and Remus.. ROME

Addednum ( May 6th )

The following are the cities in the initial list. However, the question of going down the Dalmatian coast is another factor. stay tuned for more updates !

1. San Marino

Many years ago a brazilian Formula 1 driver broke into the scene and began to be a serious annoyance for the then champion Nigel Mansel. He was no other than the great Arton Senna. I followed his career over the years till it abruptly ended when his car crashed into a wall on a rather dangerous turn during the San Marino Grand Prix. There was a controversy of a faulty gear box etc that dragged on for a few years later.

I have to pay my respects to my childhood idol.


2. Genova

The great port city of Genova, the scene for many a play and fable.



3. Milan

The architecture, the history, the hotties from the runway. ( Milan is one of the world's fashion capitals ).


4. Verona ( undecided )


5. Venice

No trip to italy can be completed without a stop over at Venice. Considering the fact that the city might not exist in a few decades ( thank global warming and other factors ). Plus it was a city designed by da vinci. Cant miss that one out!


6. Triste ( Slovania )

The first step into the old iron curtain. Border town boasts of some fun joints.


7. Budapest

One crucial stop in my little tour. Capital of Hungary, the old Magyar stronghold. The twin cities of Buda and Pest holds a horde of treasures for a history and architecture buff.

Also a lot of wicked nightclubs as well.



8. Sibu



9. Brasov

Brau castle around Brasov is where Dracula's castle is supposed to be located. Vlad Teppes III, Vlad the Impaler, Vald Drakulya was a transalvanian prince known for his cruelty to both his enemies and friends alike. He is said to have done quite a lot of unspeakable things in his life. A member of the Order of the Dragon, created by the Magyar Kings at the time to fend off the Ottoman invaders from the east, Vlad Teppes fought and defended his part of the Balkans. It is said that Saladin had his head on display in Istanbul after he was eventually killed.

10. Bucarest

Some R&R in this the capital of Romania, Andreea should be filling us in about this leg of the journey.


11. Constante

The first glimpse of the black sea. I wonder if there is a ferry or some service from here to Istanbul ?


12. Istanbul

Constantinople, the heart of the ottoman empire, the heart of Byzantine, the envy of Rome. And rightfully too. Strategically located at the straights of Bhosphorus, this was the link between Europe and Asia. The Silk route, the access to the Black sea, over the centuries right into the cold war, the Bhosphorous was the unsaid neutral zone where espionage and drama was daily part and parcel of life.

Noir

Here is an experiment. I know a few read this from time to time.. how does this story continue..

The jangle of the telephone cut through the heavy silence of the night like a knife. An unsteady, nicotine stained hand sweeps through the desk , lifts the Bakelite black monstrosity and disappears behind the desk. After wrestling with overpowering nausea from the mind numbing antifreeze the Spaniards call wine from the night before, I reach for my crumpled overcoat and stumble out into the night.

It was quite late in the night, or too early in the morning, whichever way you see it. Lighting a match I cross the wet cobblestoned streets towards the pier. She said to meet her there. Something wasn't right. Some things are never right when she is in the picture. Still intrigue and an old familiar pang lead me into the mouth of madness like a divining rod. A light April drizzle befriends the mist and further reduces visibility. I stumble through the rubble and rubbish that garnish the pier. She was nowhere to be seen. Turning up my coat collars, I trudge towards an old familiar haunt. The Boathouse.

A sharp crack pierces the monotony of the rain. Gunshot! .. I race , two steps at a time, run towards the sound Instinctively, the right hand was already on my Walter shoulder holster as I burst through the door. The streetlight drew a sharp silhouette … a single rivulet of blood trickled down the steps into the river below. She lay there motionless..

A Rude Awakenin'

Its curious how oblivious we get to certain things after a while. It was always a known fact that a byproduct of smoking was the unbelievably strong and repulsive odor that clings on to your clothes and hair. It has been 5 days since I stopped smoking. Not a very big achievement but the experiment has been interesting. Day 3, I was sipping on some tea, reading something from a very drab book, when this gentleman walks by and sits on the next chair. The events that followed has left a lasting impression on me. He was a smoker. There was a cloud of some kind that engulfed his aura. He reeked! Oh my god! Wasn't I that same man a few days before?

You dear reader would probably not be surprised to find another post on my nicotine quitting streak. This whole blog is peppered with mentions of the various failed attempts. But till recently I just didn't have the right kind of motivation to quit. So what is it that's brought this about ? well now..;-)

addendum: Another reason why it hasn't been very difficult so far is probably cause of a horrid head cold I've been having for the last two weeks. We'll have to wait till it passes to see if I can stay off the butts. peace folks.

Raging Bull

I remember those cheers
They still ring in my ears
After years, they remain in my thoughts.
Go to one night
I took off my robe, and
What'd I do ?
I forgot to wear shorts.
I recall every fall.
Every hook, every jab
The worst way a guy can get rid of his flab.
As you know. My life wasn't drab.
Thought I'd much… though I'd rather hear you cheer.
When you delve… though I'd rather hear you cheer
When I delve into Shakespeare
"A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse", I haven't had a winner in six months.
Though I'm no Oliver
I would much rather … And I'm no Oliver
If he fought Sugar Ray
He would say
That the thing ain't the ring, it's the play.
So give me a stage
Where this bull here can rage
And though I could fight
I'd much rather recite
That's Entertainment.

That was the opening scene to Scosese's Raging Bull. An overweight, over-the-hill Jake LaMotta played by Robert De Niro lights up a cigar and goes on this rant. De Niro actually put on 45 pounds to play the role. The story is about a boxer back in the '40s. He was known has the Raging Bull for his fury in the ring. The story portrays his ring skills and his private demons he. We all have our demons. The length some people go to shut them up. … Cigarette ash flies in my eyes.. I smile.. careering through the universe.. axis on tilt.. guiltless and free… song from years ago. Moments passed.

The weather has turned to be quite a bitch. Old man winter's one last blast I hope. I haven't been back on Yonge Street in the last week or two. Too cold, the café's haven't put out their chairs and the crowd just shuffles as quickly as possible to their respective destinations. In addition to that, I seem to have lost The Eagle. Sorta kills the charm of having to walk up to a table and popping it on a pack of smokes. I wont be buying another lighter any time soon. Hopefully wouldn't need a lighter in the next few months. No, I don't plan to develop some self igniting cigarettes, although, that would be pretty slick. Crack it like a glowstick and inhale. Brilliant. I trademark that!

cigarettes and ignorance

RSS feeds are one of the best things since sliced bread. Sitting at this café the other day and the signature smoke in hand, I was reading through some of my friend's blogs. Agreed, I'm not one to post very often. Mahesh does it quite often and the others… well I must admit, I check just out of curiosity.

Between smoke rings, I almost choked on an article this bird wrote. She might have a certain command over the language, but it is interesting to note the way she covers her lack of substance with metaphors. But hey, I neither have a degree in English nor do I profess the superiority in prose.So that was a let down. Here was a bird I thought could pull herself together and write something worthwhile.. le sigh.. I suppose not. The ashtray is filing up quickly. I muse over what Gene Hunt would have said about all this. Have you seen the TV show 'Life on Mars' ? Its an amazing Brit drama. When it comes to humor, you have to give it to the British to come up with something spectacular. I've always been partial due to our old colonial ties. And fuck you all, the new SMS generation. Get your spellings right… yeah you too you bleeding Americans!

The waitress, a buxom blonde with a rather perky dispossession refills my cup as I complete my latest achievement, The Alchemist. Honestly, it was rather plain. An interesting philosophical take on a few things, but I'd prefer the English Patient. Hmm.. I wonder what her name is again.. Stacie? Shelly? Crap I should pay more attention the next time. The clock strikes 6, twilight. People start to fill up the streets as the waitress begins to place little candles on each table. Younge Street slowly comes to life and you can almost hear it like the approach of an oncoming train.

In Memory Of...

It was a Thursday night, and I was restless and disturbed. Nothing new, just another day in the life of J. But there was something about that night, couldn't put my finger on it. It just wasn't right. I was fresh out of my vices, the liquor cabinet empty, the tobacco sachet bare, my list of friends, incommunicado.

Wolf had left me a message earlier in the day to be careful of the storm and to take care driving under the conditions. I didn't call him back. I didn't know the number at the hospital. Another excuse.

He died later that day. I got a call late Saturday, but since I was hibernating all day, I didn't get to it till Sunday afternoon. In a way it was a relief, in a way I was crushed. The last time I saw him, he had shown me his hospital release form that was more of a death sentence. He as disturbed by it and hadn't slept a wink for the last two days. I spent the rest of the evening with him, till 'Bathroom Divas' was over. The last sight I have of him, smiling, his blue eyes twinkling, completely out of place in an aged body. His gruff voice saying 'Maybe I will be able to see you a few times more.'

He was a friend. A good friend, that I had the privilege of knowing for a few short period of time ( a shy of three years ). Art, literature, music and a hearty conversation was all he asked during the last few years of his life. Over the time I've known him, I came to learn a great deal from this odd gentleman. His matter of fact dialogues, his fatherly concern , and his joy in sharing what little he thought he had to offer. Fine wines, Benny Goodmann, Red Dwarf, Frank Lloyd Wright, Saint-Exupéry.. are some glimpses of a once alien world he introduced me to.

He is in a better place now. Although knowing Wolf, and being a staunch atheist, he would have argued otherwise. I will miss him dearly. But as they say 'Everything is eventual' as is the passing of friends.

So it begins.. The watcher waits, the watcher notes. Ever vigilant.

Wolf C.Simon
1933 - 2007