Tuesday, October 19, 2010

It Was All So Simple - Ashish Seth

Forests and climate change would be easy
But can you really remember a time when it was all so simple?
A dimple pimple in high school
Made the girl sit away three tables
You sat with the screwed and disabled
No one thought you were cool or able
At your table,
You’d sit with your broke and retarded friends who’d make fun of you
Who played big 2 and black jack and talked about sex and booze
The person who’d lose would have to fork over a dollar or two
And the person forking the change would always most likely be you
What lunch,
Soggy chicken burger and chips that barely crunched
After lunch, you went to a class you cared for barely much
And as such, lookin’ back, you can’t remember much
After school, hooded thugs would follow you to sell their drugs and ask you to pay your dues
Take you behind yellow portables and punch you until your shoulders bruised
And then they’d laugh at you and act like they were playin’, you fool
You laughed with them to shake off that feeling, that ashamed mood
Got home and couldn’t tattle or be the laughing stock at school
Some belief in a family pride made you hide your bruises
Instead you
Toiled and studied in your stuffy room as the sun took away your light
Memorized useless facts for a test that took an hour off your life
Mom makin shit downstairs that you did not like
But couldn’t say nothing about it or you’d be called spoilt outright
Went to get coffee with your bro, saw your friends, and you weren’t with them
Tried to keep your eyes away but your eyes met and you couldn’t avoid them,
Awkward conversations, waste of time, I need to be studying
Got home and studied hard and though you can’t remember how, you aced the test
And now your friends ask how you did it and you say “It was all so simple.”

“It was all so simple…”

Friday, October 8, 2010

The Sit Dram Phenomenon: Parts I and II

Part One: http://www.the-nri.com/index.php/2010/09/critique-of-indian-serial-dramas/

Part Two: http://www.the-nri.com/index.php/2010/10/indian-parents-love-of-tv-drama-serials/

Check them out.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

I Believe in eBooks

I was sitting in front of my mac and applying for a job at apple when the creative possibilities inherent in the eBook hit me. eBooks seriously are the next step forward for the literary medium of expression. With applications running on any number of handheld (even computer based) devices, what an author or writer can implant in his or her piece is limitless; sound effects as eyes cross a certain page, visual effects that bolster the text, make it living and breathing, a soundtrack for every chapter, ambient noise that increases in tempo and frequency as your eyes move through every line. If the imagination can dream it, the technologically savvy minds of today will be apt to create it. In essence, we'll see a whole medium of expression come through the portal into the Information Age.

As a creator, I find more room to play in an eBook than in a printed book. But the printed book will never die. I still believe that firmly.


Where am I going with my life?

It feels like my life has run out of ambition. I no longer am capable of working hard; I no longer feel I'm working towards a possible happy end. Everything I write down is trivial. The hard work doesn't pay off. The hard work doesn't conclude to a logical, practical end. It feels that after school I fell off a boat and landed in the wrong place. I wake up mornings feeling like I made all the wrong decisions for the past nine years. I always transport myself back to 2001 when I was faced with the decision of choosing which direction my life would be heading. I chose the social sciences and arts when I should've chosen science or technology or any other art that isn't "social". And then two planes flew into two towers and now I'm here.

I am an anti-social creature. I never leave home for a reason. I never have to leave home. When I'm in a place with lots of people - a bar, a club, a place where people let everything hang out - I'm terrified.

Finding a job is difficult and the process of looking is daunting. I no longer feel capable of doing anything unique and special. I've been drained of being driven. I forget things I thought about five seconds ago in less than five seconds. Nothing seems worthwhile.

I have a violent shyness. The thought of going out there on Monday to the schools to "show my face" in order to increase job prospects is weighing on me. I'm scared. I feel helpless. I am going insane. My mind is a box of post-it-notes writ with philosophical quips. I pull one out every so often for moral guidance and a quick hit of confidence.


Sunday, June 6, 2010

Bad Teacher, Bad Student

I told a student to stand outside. He said ‘make me’. So I did. I walked up to him and grabbed him by his shirt collar and dragged him out as the whole class watched. He struggled and swore and I remember I had rage in my eyes. But I enjoyed every ounce of it. Once I shut the door, I continued my lesson.

Bad Teacher

Monday, April 12, 2010

On Sampling other Artists

Sampling isn't stealing. It's borrowing with style!

Sunday, April 4, 2010