The Afghan Girl

is somebody whom Amma has always been fascinated by.

Who wouldn't fail to be fascinated by her! It's simply inevitable, the eyes, they just have a lot to say.

Amma got a hold of me today and asked to try and recreate the Afghan girl using my sister Nitty as a model.

So, when Nitya got back we got past her "I'll look like a beggar excuses" and came up with some pretty good shots. Spent about an hour trying ot get the look right. There was always something missing, and most of all were the eyes, Nitya's eyes are brown, so it's a little hard unless you're one of those individuals with a talent for seeing chocolate grass everywhere (if you consume grass and it tastes like chocolate too, then please let me know, I'd be very happy to give you a tour of my backyard).

It was difficult to get the lighting just right. I have a silly point-and-shoot Sony DSC-W1 which doesn't allow for much customization of F-stop numbers and

I have not posted a picture of the Afghan girl since it's been pretty much copyrighted under every silly law possible, but clicking the title of the post ought to take you to Sharbat Gula's Wikipedia page.

Steve McCurry's done a lot in her name now. He sells posters of the original photograph and a part of the money goes into the Afghan Girl Fund, to educate improverishered girls in Afghanisthan.

Just wish Creative Commons was around when the picture was taken, imagine the possibilities.

Ah, missed opportunities, so many variations on that work could have been done. But I guess part of the beauty of that work is that you simply cannot change that potrait.

But who said you couldn't try:



Wouldn't you want be this girl?

Update: The eyes were done up with Picasa 3. The new touch-up tool really works!

PipSqueak: In Memoriam

Pip and Squeak thought they'd spent a week or two with us. Originally found abandoned in an eletricity meter box by my father. They were brought home. They were about a day old when they were found.

They were called away on matters that required their squirrely attention. Probably got tired of the odd combination of dog's milk supplement + vaseline screen. Not to mention the pesky kids uttering high-pitched squeals of delight that were torturing their squirrely sense of hearing, maybe it was just all that lovin' that finally did them in.

Pip "belonged" to Nitty; and Squeak to Deedoy. And they were loved by all who knew them.

Squeak was the first to leave.

Pip + Squeak = Balls of delightfully, tumbly-wumbly, Vaselined bundles of energy (initially) and <3.

Squeak: he was with us from13/09/2008 - 24/09/2008
Pip: she was with us from 13/09/2008 - 29/09/2008

They rest 'neath the temple tree out in the back. With a flower for their crowns.

Here's a little video I'd put together with subtitles for those who can't understand my mumblings:


The soundtrack is:

Thank you.

This May Seem Like

a post about nothing in particular, but if you look closer, you'll find that there's a lot waiting to be uncovered. You really must take a closer look, or you must be using a text browser such as lynx I like text, nothing should be written in HTML. In fact I am planning to swithc to a hosting service that I've managed to come by that offeres 5000 GB of storage space, and offers a lot of simple litlle things that the first-time webmaster will find particularly useful, you must try, you must you must . Where else will you learn otherwise. Time to start coding in Jvaa. Time to throw in a bunch of applets onto a webpage and enjoy learning the language that most cellphones love to speak. Cellphones <3 Java.


I <3 Java

Meaning And Hope

You really ought to try doing your own HTML. You really should. It's sheer joy to see something so silly that you do, it makes no sense to be writing stuff like:

Hello World! and welcome to my own HTML webpage. I am so cool, but you don't know that now, do you? See how I did this, made this happen, come to life...

Note: this didn't turn out that well, Blogger took all my HTML and turned it into crap. Check the source if you want proof.
Oh, this is so crappy. The blockquote button doesn't seem to work!  Fine, you stupid blockquote button, I'll type my whole post in blockquote form if that suits your f***ed up blockquoteness. This is so f***ed up! Just say it! Ah, fuck!

I sense distress, that's for sure.

Amma, where's my tea? I need to be putting down all this stuff without any nourishment? Where is my tea.

Just found out a way, select the text that you want to quote, and hit the block quote button. Apparently, it doesn't believe that once you've entered the blockquote mode, it should get out. And they say that Blogger Beta is dead! Pwah! They are so wrong.

Wonder where the squirrels are. Pip breathed her last today. Nitya was quite sad about that.

She wants a hamster next. "Is a hamster the same as a guinea pig?" she asked me. I told her that it was indeed the same thing. Or, wait, is it now? I'm no zoologist. But fortunately for me, Wikipedia exists, and so does the Internet. The internet is so awesome. I should stop using that word. What exactly does it mean?

Some awe? A lot of awe? I'm filled with awe. What do you mean by, "This is so awesome." I'm in some awe. Phone beeps. 
"1 New Message from Vikxxx Mxxxxxx"
"Really, I'll check it out..."

I like the habit of ending your message with an ellipsis... If that's what a collection of three periods in sequence is called... Do you think so... Do you think so... Do you think... Or you could fill up your message with 160 periods. It'd mean that you are very particular in your correspondence. You attempt to convey meaning and hope.

Meaning and hope? What are those things? You must have heard of those silly novels where there are two women named Dawn and Hope. Why are they called Dawn and Hope.

Arrgh, I'm frustrated by something. Time for tea.

Please Read Past Para 3.

No bath for three days. Feeling stinky.

No shave, feeling rough.

Haven't cried for three days. Not too bad.

Haven't done much over the week. Not feeling too bad about that.

So, it's been an interesting week, hasn't it?
I was thinking about renaming the blog. Conversations With An Imaginary Girlfriend makes me sound really imaginative, if not more desperate. And I was thinking about this on the way to class. Class. don't call it college, it's classier to refer to it as class, not college.

Squirrels are so nice.

Manu, your conversations just wander on and on, says the person who has seen, and done everything from having drawn his first paycheck recently. Smart boy, isn't he. He's trying to prove that wandering conversations are a waste of everybody's time.

I haven't played Scrabble in a while on Facebook. Wonder how everybody is doing.

I've never learnt the whens-and-wheres of putting semicolons into a sentence. What really does a semi-colon convey? And how does one put it: semicolon or semi-colon? Which one seems more distunguished? Am I eager to prove myelf distinguished? Am I really distinguishable from all the rest? Does it matter? Isn't it really proving myself to be me that matters?

What I am I doing here? Who is reading this right now? Are you reading this and thinking about what I'm going through? Do you really care? Should I get myself somebody to talk to? A girlfriend perhaps, because honestly, everybody seems to agree. And by everybody, I refer of course to my good friends who I shall not be naming here. You know who you are. You do. Do you honestly think I am that weak and pathetic? Experience is different da, they say. But what exactly are you basing that relationship on? Why can't you just be friends without the added pressure of being "boyfriend" or "girlfriend"?

You're thinking too much they say. Thinking about life. It's not that serious. It's your final year, you need to get out more often, do more things. Well, my dear friend, you don't seem to get it, you're just wasting your life. By the time you realise it, you'll be 40-years old and nobody'll give a crap. But honestly, do you really mean to say that somebody does give a crap right now? You, for instance? Does your advice really mean that you care? A girlfriend? Why, I can't even handle being myself and here you are, advising me to get a girlfriend.

But maybe you're right, it might provide me with my source of intellectual stimulation, at my discretionary level of conscience. There ought to be somebody I choose out from the hordes to not abstract myself from. Somebody who just gets me. Completely, wholly, and without restraint. Somebody who can listen to me.

But is there somebody, really who can? Who can listen to me going on and on about myself and what I think and care about. It's almost too much to bear the idea of all that time being wasted. All that time.

I use the "all that" phrase too often. Must limit myself.

Structured conversation is for people with no imagination. Too general, nobody has imagination, it has been sucked out by endless YouTube videos where dogs are being sensible and cats and parrots silver-tongued orators. Maybe this is a sign that the slow ageing process of civilization and thought is coming on.

Does anybody really care?

Am I being too judgemental. Is this what I really think about?

What am I here for? To do what is right?

Who is reading this? Nobody, that's right. Nobody. Nobody is even reading this.

What's a blog. Why are there so many questions/. Where are th eanswers? Where are the answers my dear friends? Where are the answers. I know not.


<3ed>
I'm sure of that.

What else am I sure of? Nothing much. Snap. Snap. I'm sure that no blog post of mine can be coherent and thoughtful. I'm sure. I try, but I've lost all the patience to sift through my thoughts. It's almost as if I have to rush them all out the door at the same time.

I realise that I don't kno wwhere the keys on the keyboard are, I just know that my fingers know where they are. I don't know how they know. Do they remember where the tab key is? Could they give me some 'Space' when I needed it. Flip the pages back. When did I start. I've been typing for as long as I can remember. I keep typing and typing till the keys start feeling a little slick. Looks like my skin's a lot oilier than I thought. A lot oilier. They just slip.

I've thought about carrying around a notebook with me. Nothing too fancy, just alittle thing where I can carry stuff about and note down things of interest. Mostly everything is interesting, and everything is so different from day to day. Getting them all down in one place makes putting down content in a blog a lot less harder. And these thoughts, and especially the best ones tend to come in most unexpectedly, they come in when you're taking a crap or when you're on the bus, or after you're done taking a crap or in class, or when you're walking about. I've realised that a cellphone which lets you save draft text messages is especially useful in this case. Plenty I've noted down.

For instance, I was once at this place - Ragam bakery, if I remember correctly - waiting for my friends to arrive. I was sipping on some lime juice. And watching people return home from work, some of them going in to shop for dinner that evening. The bakery is adjacent to a supermarket, which makes blowing your money on friends ("Nicely done on that bike man, you got a sweet deal there! Where's the treat!" or "Oh, you got laid last week! Way to go! So, how was he? Treat!") in the bakery, and then blowing money on things that you don't really need. Who needs instant noodles. I'd take mine slowly.

12 hours later,

this blog post is still open. Anybody who cares to go through will find that it has lost it's way, after the 3 paragraph, if you get there, that is.

What shall I call it now? I know!

I'm All About You Baby!


See, I'm not completely locked down, I like some things.

Don't know how many of you have your heads up your butts and your butts up your throats bawling about "Old Facebook" but here's a little tip that'll let you customize your newsfeed content right up to junking all the lolz and keeping all the stuff that I post.

Prioritization of content. Something I like.

In a comment that came out of the blue, somebody mentioned that they liked blog. I like unsolicited opinions. Unsolicited opinions are good! They don't mean much, but they're nice to hear when you least expect them.

Thank you Anu (the other one).

And here's another way to customize your Nooz Feed:

Look out for this thing at the bottom of your feed.


And you got this:
Odd. I'm not too worried about heartbreaks of the friends.
Nor about Friends of Friends.
Or lolz on other peeps walls.

Or the latest party they're hitting and I'm not which serves to remind just how anti-social self is.

Or groups. Or pretty much anything. I like Photos and Stuff that people have written: notes.

There's scope for the imagination there! Interpretation, my second favourite activity after, tagging and commenting! (unresolved dependencies here)


The More About You And Less About You Stuff are summarized as below for convinience.

Wouldn't you like to know which list you're on! Haha! Fret not. This is just a sample listing. None of these people are my real friends. Everybody is on one list. Which one, I shall not reveal, but know this, your comments will be appreciated.

Try and get past the lolz. You might actually find me being nice to you.

"I am nice" is another thing I'd like to keep reminding myself about.

Facebook is Fun

This is the kind of BS that makes FB fun: (sorry cat lovers, but I couldn't let this pass!)

Note: I don't approve of, or encourage cruelty to animals. Cats despite being perceived as the selfish beasties that they are, are adorable and fun to have around.

Cats must not have the misfortune of being named Spaghetti, constructed of spaghetti, or being thrown about on Facebook as Spaghetti cats should be thrown about on Facebook.

Indeed, it is a very sad day for the cats on Facebook. The people behind SuperPoke and the dweebs who put this app on their profile should be ashamed of themselves, and anybody who throws cats at me invites my most scathing comments on their newsfeed, so, if you don't want to feel like an even bigger dweeb (which incidentally, you are for having thrown crap my way) you'd better take that off your profile right now.

And please, keep sharing your life with me. You might invite ridiculously lengthy comments on items from time to time, depending on the phase of the moon, my feeling towards you, cats, the government, the world, dandruff, and various other chemical lochas in my head.

And remember, cats are fun!

I'd prefer squirrels though, but the trouble is they eat cats. Or, was the other way round? Pip and Squeek. Lovely names, aren't they?

Have you tried the "Get A Sex Change!!" app?


Self-explanatory.

You learn about people on Facebook, and what they think of you.

It just works.