Bzzzzzzzp...

As black holes go, the most crippling is the one where you realise you are now not worthy of any emotive indulgence.
Not worthy of happiness or joy, satisfaction or accomplishment, peace or anger.
Your emotional rights as an individual are sucked into oblivion by the black hole of self-recrimination.
Self-recrimination. That’s the toughest jury; Borne out of true self-inquest, devoid of distraction and sleight of heart, or mind.
Like black holes in space, we know they exist and what they do, but there is little fuss about the exact moment of contact with one.
Just a bzzzzzp.
Gone.

Yin, Yang, Yawn...

The yin-yang of human experience bemuses me.
A soldier is sent to war, then accused of excessive violence.
A jockey is allowed to race a horse, then restricted from using a whip.
This constant see-sawing of human nature to try and soothe consciences and justify pursuits that fall clearly in that ‘grey’ moral zone provide stop and think moments for (wo)mankind.
I have bemoaned on this blog that not enough people are stopping, thinking and then talking about it.
Maybe they are talking, but the amount of bullshit in cyberspace just drowns out any intelligent thought, reason or discussion.

Never ever...

I, have, for the most part forgotten how to write.
So, in a moment of self-acrimonious ball-busting I revisited some rules I made for myself, back in the day.
Some of them are gems:
1) Never ever start a copy with a quote, song or poem. Nobody needs to know how well-honed your cultural sensibilities are.
2) Never ever do a story on the phone; or worse, by email. The odd quote, the HQ statement, ok… but the story, get out and meet the people.
3) Never ever use clichés to dress up facts.
4) Never ever stop writing.

The Great Indian Sob Story

The Indian version of ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire’ – Kaun Banega Crorepati (KBC) – has turned into a sob-story, against-all-odds, zero-to-hero cluster fuck.

Amitabh Bachchan, India’s answer to ‘God in Hollywood (Morgan Freeman)’ creates the perfect setting for farmers, rural teachers and lower middle-class workers to get their 30 minutes of fame – and Rs50 lakhs.

India is perfecting the art of doing a format to death.

I would love to see just one participant this season come from a rich family, well educated, with only one desire – to win to get richer, or just to blow the money up.

Bankruptcy lessons

The hardest thing about being bankrupt, well, one of the hardest, is being able to share in the joy of the progress and prosperity of those around you.
While being able to afford a doughnut will be your major challenge for the immediate future (read, next few years), your best buddy’s shiny new Lamborghini does not exactly set your heart aflame.
What it does do, is make you want to set yourself aflame. And the Lamborghini. And all the Lamborghinis in the world. And the world itself.
So bankruptcy teaches you detachment.
A forced lesson, but a survival one.

Talking smack

After sustained cocaine use – you get affected.

Mentally, your shit is just not the same.

I have experienced this. The wiring goes between thought process, articulation and rationale.

Apart from me, there is Specimen No 1: Charlie Sheen.

He did enough of drugs to kill two and a half men, goes the quip. But, hear him speak and you’ll see.

Then there is Specimen No 2. Maradona. He recently called Alex Ferguson a joke. See what I mean.

Then there is Kanye West.

Who would make Charlie, Diego and me sound sane. And he does not even do coke.