Owner: Dithyramb URL:http://excreation.blogspot.com Join Date: Sun, 20 Aug 2006 02:02:08 -0500 Rating:1 Site Description: Low art and illiterature. ("Low art" = "floor tiles and paint-buckets"). ("Illliterature" = "totally sick writing, dude"). ("Dithyramb" = "Look it up, fool!"). Site statistics:Click here
Overlooked Conclusions, Part One: Early Scholars Of Southern India 2006-10-27 19:48:00 July, 1123 B.C.E., Naduvedina* :
Two young and aspiring social scientists - who we will henceforth refer to, for reasons of classification, as Agath and Regral - in the interest of academia, decided to take apart a marriage in order to investigate what it is, precisely, that makes the phenomenon tick (or not - as could well, and did in fact, transpire). As such circumstances tend to behave, things didn't entirely go in the expected clockwork manner (and this expectation in itself may be construed as an able indication of the philosophies, mindsets and, by extension, prior successes, of the idealistic young subjects of our historical study). The resultant report by Agath and Regral, copies of which were found among Agath's remains at his family burial site, deemed the experiment a failure - if, indeed, such a conclusion may be regarded by an unprejudiced mind as logical or meritorious of institutional validation - and some of the blame, it is inferred, was placed on metho Read more:Overlooked
, Early
, Scholars
, Southern
, India
Lizard's Tales [A]: "A Cold Girl Will Kill You" 2006-10-17 14:51:00
EYEFRY
:
The farewell party would've been intolerable but for the two joints, brief flashes of the Germany-Sweden game, and, of course, the exhibitionist copywriter and her theatrical dissertation on lesbian foreplay. He arrived late as usual, tired from a protracted day of sexual tension and forced pleasantries. Arriving late was his special skill, his calling card. It was a tendency and a perception that offset any pretensions of respectability and usefulness he'd have to otherwise affect or conform to.
That same morning he'd been half an hour late for the screening of an Italian neo-realist epic. As he clambered languidly up the steps outside the theatre, tickets tucked - crumpled and sweaty - into the back-pocket of his jeans, he tried to make some sense of relativity, global warming and the gently wind-rippled breasts of the model in the lingerie-ad hoarding that was casting a cool shadow over the parking lot, and whether these three phenomena were in some magical my Read more:Lizard
, Tales
Am I really so transparent? 2006-10-11 07:03:00 I went to the railway station today, where a weighing machine sized me up and told me the horrible truth...
The Curious Case Of Cabbage Kuppu, Esq. 2006-09-16 16:07:00 Till the age of 78 by which time he was in no condition to protest when the nurse at the cancer ward shoved spoon after spoonful of ragi soup into his feeble mouth, Kuppuchaamy had subsisted on nothing but cabbage. Morning, noon, evening and night, all he'd ingested - be it in solid, liquid or gaseous state - was cabbage.
In the beginning, when Kuppuchaamy's 13-year old mother died unable to bear the pain of birthing him, and when he was gently placed in a garbage bin and warmly bundled up in a couple of inky fresh sheets of the morning's Dhina Thanthi by a mildly remorseful newspaperboy who, having been magnetically drawn to the screams emanating from the decaying hut built of cardboard strung together with thin electrical cord, couldn't for a moment imagine having to give up his youth to care for a dead stranger's baby, the hungry infant found himself thrashing around in a rotting swill of cabbage soup garnished with a softly widening tendril of hastily masticated wine-red pan m Read more:Curious
, Cabbage
C.2003: Worm's Eye View (A Fable Of Little Consequence) 2006-08-23 19:27:00
Note to the reader: What follows is an irritatingly articulate and highly pretentious little earthworm's ultra-embellished account of a dull evening out. If any of it seems overdone or ill-conceived, forgive me, as it was written a few years back by a bored and listless, and rather juvenile-of-temperament, collegiate version of myself. I have not subsequently attempted to edit anything, as, I fear, I'd have to rewrite - or relegate to the dustbins - the whole bloody mess, if I try. If you actually like it, on the other hand, forgive me if I come across a little smugly. Either way, do leave me a comment, dammit.
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Poetry these days abounds with overstated caricatures, an unsubtle art that's shunned creativity for the lethargy of routine. Ah, but there's little room for poetry, thankfully or not, in the lethargic subroutines of a grubby little worm - moi - existing (I prefer not to say "living", as the term overestimates the sco Read more:Fable
, Consequence
In Equilibrium 2006-07-13 19:25:00 The pain of detachment: a world in tatters, the screeching of gulls, domino nightmare.
He sits at an ink-stained rolltop desk, his skyward shock of ideahair smelling of poster paint and mustard oil, his left eye swelling from the gentle bite of a baby lizard, his arms covered in black and gold tattoos of graphic violence and unrelenting copulation. His throat itches constantly, the cold fire of a dull winter sun. Codeine phosphate crowds the tender ocean floors of his calcium brain; every passing dream, a lightning bolt, a crack on the plaster; every forgotten moral, a sharp new claw scratching its tired way out of every whitehot fissure.
Forty licks: emergent minds, discarded passions, forsaken loves.
A cobweb of liquid mischief arises - softly, carefully, menacingly - from underneath the bed. Each strand displays a studied understanding of the environment, each outward manoeuvre calculated to dishearten, surprise, envelop, overtake, romance, consume, masturbate, digest, animate,
A Fun Junior School Primer To The Concept Of Tragedy (Through Fantasy In Verse) 1970-01-01 00:59:59 Peace had reigned for many a moonIn the gentle land of Balfardoum.Laughter rang from hall to hallIn the hallowed court of Lord Kabal.Pasture, meadow, glen and grove,Nut and berry, cove to cove,Fairy's feet and honeydewLush and tender, green they grew.Then in the halftime Spring it sprangWhen lark and kookaburra sang,And in the royal halls a VoiceWas heard that bade them all rejoice."Come to me and learn," It sang,"Of distant shores where Elf-bells rang,Where tapestries and curtains hangThat tell the tale of Wing and Fang"From every house on every hill,Nook and corner, field and mill,Came fowl and folk a thousand moreTo hark this store of wondrous lore.When all arrived from far and wide;Man and woman, fur and hide;The castle's oaken door was broke,And there stood mighty Pdarhazoke!Pdarhazoke - Dark Sorcerer!Pdarhazoke - Black Wanderer!Pdarhazoke - Vizier of Doom!Pdarhazoke - Bane of Balfardoum!Gasps and groans sad rent the air,The Wolf had ventured from his lairWith Read more:School
, Junior
, Concept
, Tragedy
Quantum Physics For Dummies 1970-01-01 00:59:59 One plus one is too;two plus twois also true.{Wong is a little Chinese guywho lives in Yelahanka New Townand makes Tibetan momos for a living."There is nowight or Wong,"he says, smiling."Only more and moremomos" }It's either true,or falls."Yeah" Read more:Physics
, Dummies
Musky Toes And Acid Jazz On The 25th Of May 1970-01-01 00:59:59 - A fleeting epic for our disinterested times, by the partisan philosopher who gave you such hits of Yesterday as "Thank You, Brother Seaweed" and "The Melancholy Sewer Rat".I love parties that allow meto freely prevaricate.One needs a mission statement,a motto,when networking,or raising things -like topics, glasses, funds, and/or Hell- in mixed ("nixed") company.I happen to be, gleefully,a contradictions-specialist:I point out less-than-obvious disparities,inverted social values,unproportionate situations…and anyway, even if I don't actuallycome out and speak my mind(how flash! how overbearing, entirely!),I feel those queasy vibes ("jibes")of Paradoxicality,I empathise till my head all but explodes,and that's what ultimately matters, no?Why, just tonight,soon after a disquieting filmabout poor peopleand their poorer problems(how petty! how devastating, somewhat!)was screened ("screamed") for those of uswho possess Objects such asPrejudice, Precaution, Pre
Escape 1970-01-01 00:59:59 HMH Records: Ward 18 (Mental Health): Sp. J93/Q27-GName: Swami VReference Tag: Q27Sex: MaleAge: 54Date of Admission: 17 November 1998Case Description: Amnesiac, possibly paranoid schizophrenic (accurate prognosis pending).Previous Medical History: Unknown.Transcript of tape-recorded counseling session [punctuated/edited for legibility] with Administrator (Ward No: 18), Dr. Amartya Aloysius D' Silva:Q27: Hee hee hee hee! Need to do something about that dirty rug of yours, it's about to fall off! Flip it! Flip it!Dr.: Yes, well… How's the week been then? More epiphanies? Any new pearls of wisdom to share?Q27: Wisdom for two-year olds, dolphins and neurosurgeons, or empty thought bubbles for ice-cream vendors, dentists and retards like you? Oh, but you're supposed to be the one with the questions, hey? Incessant, prickly rhetoric? I can tell you though - there are never any answers, only whirling twirling shapes. The shapes are scratches on an old 8mm porno reel. Eons pass, co Read more:Escape
Macaronic 1970-01-01 00:59:59 A gnome and a dwarfOnce met on a wharf,Where plans were conceivedFor the birth of a gnarf.
Come on in, have a seat! 1970-01-01 00:59:59 Big houses, they always said. Big, sweaty houses with off-white walls and peeling paint. And candy-bars with caramel filling. A gardener for the watch, a couple of watchmen for the garden, five housekeepers (nay, servants - hush, hush!), and two chauffeurs for each car. Cheese in the fridge, dates in a jar, kennels without dogs, two PCs, furniture oozing out, and a hypochondriac on the loose. And please, please don't forget - mosquito nets velcroed to every window. "Take a bus, but I'll send the car" Cornflakes for supper, toothpaste for tea, and anything else at anytime else.Oh crap, I cut myself."Quick! Call the cleaners! It's all over the carpet!"Indeed, there it is - a wide blue stain.Daddy's upset, mamma's upset, stomach's upset. A severed head lies on the 12-foot long dining table, holding up a loaf of brown bread and grinning. "Leave it to Psmith!" it grunts, quite evidently pleased with itself.I like to draw. Not all the time, but when forced to."
Haiku 2 1/2 1970-01-01 00:59:59 wet cardboard box:home without a roof. Read more:Haiku
Configurations 1970-01-01 00:59:59 Q: What is freedom?Lying flat, half-dead, in an oxygen-coma of magazines and quantum mechanics, riding the teary smog with shades of Pink Freud, just shooting the breeze, just reloading the pretty gun."I love thee, or I don't know myself" - true confessions of an inebriated teetotaler.Drunk on life? On love? On pride, probably. Pretense, quite possibly.A haze, a maze, the craze; chaos is clarity, and clarity is depravity. Ergo, Bill "Everquill" Shakespeare is busy jabbing himself full of junk in the kitchen while William "Silverfish" Burroughs eloquently waxes his armpits on the balcony, both howling methodically to the wily, smiley moon.Never know what life can bring, they sing. But we can speculate, surely, oh we can definitely speculate, can't we?"Is it now?'Q: Um, but what is freedom?Frowning thoughtfully over brush, print-ink and spectacles, pitilessly conjuring structured visions of vanity.Artists and prodigies, please take note. "My days are done, I'm rotti
The Superego And The Missing Link 1970-01-01 00:59:59 "Awake, all you sorry bastards who persist in cultivating Death in the vain and futile quest for cultural resurrection, tripping drunkenly on the rusted chains that anchor you to your guilt-ridden past, groping brokenly for a better future! Listen now, at long last, to the light of your sheltered sense of self, and wake up to the Voice of Today!This is the Voice that tells you, in its excessive arrogance, how to live your life, and you may raise your flabby arses and listen to it or go to hell for all I care!Know then, that the Prophet lives for Happiness, without trying to attach any constricting Values to the word, not as a concept but a way of life, a state of mind. The Prophet is for the present, in dismissal of any previous linear History or processional pattern, a dismissal borne of conscience and clear reasoning. His Voice, in our visceral experiential realm, embraces the profound euphoria of Holism, the complete and effulgent joy of tapping the Universal Consciousness.But sa Read more:Missing
dem dullan layzie blu'z 1970-01-01 00:59:59 i wuda binna nartis'if me wasna so detach'.i wuda binna signtis'if me wasna bum at numbaz.i wuda flyda naircwaf'but me isa claustrofob.i wuda binna profitbut me beerd's lak infan' ars.i wuda binna rokstaan' i wuda binna nactaan' i wuda binna deajaybut me is two mutch a lona.koreuz:i'd lyketa binna sumtindat wuda bin impresivbut fo' now, gurl, jus be 'appydat me's wit ya aawl de tyme.i wuda hadda bisnissif me wasna cwap wit munnyan' i wuda binnin prollytixbut me ainna sucha cynix.i wuda binna sosheligh'but me ainna dat uptigh'an' i wuda binna junkyif me wasna sucha hunky :)an' i wuda binna killaif me wasna sucha swillaan' i'd eevna binna rappabut me dunno howta rime :((koreuz)i wuda binna wachma'but me lyke me booty sleap.i wuda binna coppaif me wasna skareda robbaz.i wuda binna wrytaif me undastud de lingoan i wuda maid sum fillemzbut me canna werkin groopz.i wuda binna gawdnabut fo' rispeck fo' de gwass.yo, me wuda binna trukkabut dat rode he'z jus two lawng.(ko
Haven't even heard of it... 1970-01-01 00:59:59 You're Inherit the Wind!by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. LeeTo you, the learning process is inherently about controversy. If people aren't having their minds stretched, how could they possibly be learning? This makes you a good but unpopular teacher, and the people around you are ready to make it a federal case. All you're asking them to do is evolve a little. But they would like you to be more creative. You would make an excellent lawyer, even though people think you love monkeys.Take the Book Quizat the Blue Pyramid. Read more:Haven
Flavour Of The Month 1970-01-01 00:59:59 Parochialism*, which has a soft chocolatey outside, a hard coconutty inside, and a pleasantly bittersweet aftertaste.*Available wholesale in Kerala and West Bengal; contains natural ingredients and artificial preservatives. Read more:Month
, Flavour
Stress Buster no: 632/ Summer2005/ "My table under the staircase" 1970-01-01 00:59:59 I sit at the table, digging my nose, trying to write. It is a pensive moment: one of half-registering the environment, of seeing spots and remembering good times past. It is a powerful moment: I tense myself for the coming epiphany…My brother - a petulant scream from the backyard for change to give to the auto driver - and a brief derailment of mood. (In my mind, I go "Fuck! Damn! Crap!")I try to reboot the reverie. All it needs is intense concentration and an iron will…there.Mmmmm… A few disconnected jumbles scuttle gently along the nanothin membrane of my daydreaming. I would disregard them but for my fondness for creating amateur purple-prose like, for instance, the previous sentence.And so the point is lost, the mood melts into the humid air, and all the hajaar distractions jostle into plain view all over again. Try to visualise them: an exit to my right {an open wooden door on the inside, two on the outside that are almost shut and have four panes of glass each (the Read more:Buster
, Summer
, staircase
Night and Fog 1970-01-01 00:59:59 "Nuit et Brouillard' (film review)Direction: Alain Resnais, Script: Jean Cayrol, Music: Hans EislerAcclaimed 1955 French documentary on Nazi concentration camps."War has dozed off, one eye open…"Night
and Fog is a chilling and cathartic fable for our fragmented times, mnemonics for a world trying desperately to forget the guilt and sorrow of a devastatingly effective planned genocide. Constructed by reluctant biographers who were then still reeling from the brutal effects of World War II - though sounding almost non-committal, or maybe resigned, of tone - Night and Fog subtly and methodically leaves an everlasting and bitter imprint in the shocked viewer's memory.The several threads of thought running through the film are interwoven into such a complex and fluid pattern that it gets increasingly laborious, as we are pulled deeper and deeper into the narrative's compelling vortex, to discern the one from the other. The concentration camps, hellish engines of the distorted
The Idea Man - A Tragedy in One Act 1970-01-01 00:59:59 [The set is spare, vaguely resembling the India Coffee House or some similar place. Time is around noon. A MAN sits at a table, occasionally glancing at a huge wall clock opposite him, sipping cold coffee. The wall clock had stopped in 1963 during the All Karnataka Sannas Revival when riots had unexpectedly broken out, and no one had bothered to fix it since then out of respect for the few but brave men and women who had gone hungry during the festival. A plate of French fries sits untouched before the MAN. The fries look a bit green. The MAN is dressed casually, but in good taste - hair gelled, shirt crisply ironed, nose-ring polished, etc. A laptop case rests next to him on the ground, and a cell phone sits in front of him next to the plate of greenish fries. As this quiet scene of urban inactivity sinks in, a brief word on the action to follow: every little movement hereon must be very stylized and exaggerated, like in a John Woo action sequence or a Benny Hinn sermon. In fact, if Read more:Tragedy
Jeremiad for a Mutilated Tympanum 2007-06-24 10:02:00 Their beings collided acrossa writhing orange ocean of bodies,embarrassed flirtations ofbig, wet, lonely leviathans:they alternated, syncopated,lashed out and held forth,they paraded and debated --that they did not believe in half-measureswas brutally evident.One snored of Liberty and Lawand suitcases crammed with edible underwear --a cornered leoparddisbelieving of its own predicament(it was the death of privacy,the rise of the Tabloid.)Rrrrrghhurrrmmm!Burrrmmhhaawww!"If you call, I will answer..."The other snarked for video gamesand bidets and lemon tarts and exploding breasts --a phalanx of ancient warcraftascending the turbulent blues in ready succession(they destroyed universes, and birthedother, noisier, cranky little monster worlds.)Frrunnbrraahhrrrr!Hwurrrgghhrroww!"If you court this disaster..."And the desperate ocean all around them tossedand heavedand complained,bitterly grieving a martyred silence,entertaining impatient optimismsof divine intervention --a cloudburst of earp Read more:Mutilated
Haiku 2 2005-12-05 02:01:00 a mosquito-netof subtle defense,hangs in shame. Read more:Haiku
In the interest of good manners and cultivation 2007-09-24 01:17:00 Dear Madam,Far be it from me to presuppose your ignorance on the subject that I am herein about to address, but I am compelled by extenuating circumstances to proceed in this matter with a connate scintilla of circumspection, and I beg your indulgence and exculpation.It has come to the notice of my associates and I that your nephew, Master Jaggu, who is known by the Administration to employ the anonym of Jojo Hotwax AKA Mangolio Muffragette (wherein "AKA", we are reliably informed, is an abbreviation of "above knee amputation"), has yet again been observed inflicting the livestock and poultry at Bijoy Farms with a profusion of unorthodox and wholly pernicious filmic excruciations. Madam, let us be clear on the matter: the young man has been subjected to far more cinema than is deemed healthy by the Mental Health Institute of Secunderabad. I am not pointing fingers. I am merely stating a well-known fact.At dawn on the 13th of this month, Mr. Raamookaaka, the household factotum at the Fa
Sah Aham 2007-11-12 03:58:00 Many years ago, Padmanabhan was a smart, funny, talented and lovable person. At times, the whole world seemed to conspire to make good things happen for him. Everyone he met wished him well, tried to make him comfortable and happy. But something was terribly wrong. Padmanabhan found himself deliberately sabotaging all the good that came his way – jobs, friendships, romances, and, soon enough, his whole life. He shirked work, avoided meeting people as often as he could, and made promises he could never keep and knew he could never keep. He started growing increasingly melancholy, and there was never a discernable reason for his attitude. He shut himself away in his little room for weeks on end, ate less and less (and yet, inexplicably, kept gaining weight), and spent entire days staring at things, fidgeting with paperweights and thingummies and whatchoocallits, and running his computer’s maintenance tools over and over. Each night he went to sleep with watery eyes and a terrible sen
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