Baby. You're a rich man.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The only highlight why I'd probably write today is that finally, letterstocrushes.com is making me sick and that comes as a good news to my blog. Which means, I can resume writing (more like scratching) while in my alternate life I pretend to ward of air off my elbow (fame dust and all that). It feels good to hear the tap-t-tap-tap-space-cluck you know the distinct sound. I'm trying to feign the whole nostalgic act of those dirt ridden keyboard that you really had to press hard to type something (in other words, the school/office keyboard).


I was heavily moved by the whole "Harry Potter Coming to an End. Boohoo" saga a fortnight ago. So much so, that I dug out my entire collection of books, re-read them and was trying very hard to feel like that (like faking an orgasm, the same way). I started to refer to "petrified" more than "spaz" on a daily basis. Started calling my friends/acquaintances by the characters name (depening on their behaviour/look etc). I even ended up watching the first two parts again (I can quote the Hindi dubbed dialogues as well). Pretty much, reviving the whole thing back again.

Fail.

I didn't have slightest inclination to go for a first day first show for the movie unlike half of my facebook friend list who were really going bonkers about how they managed to get the tickets and it seemed like topping International Math Olypiad. I don't know if I was android or the fact that I had office and couldn't care less about it self. Although, I'd decided that I'd watch this with couple of school friends to relive the thing of watching all the Potter flicks together as a part of school trip (our school was cool like that, they took us for Power Rangers once and even some nearly porn movie on AIDS by the name "Aisa Kyun Hota Hai?"). Now I can be cool and crack jokes like,"don't have phone sex or you'll get hearing AIDS" but back then we couldn't stop clapping. It's another experience altogether to go to this shady cinema hall and watch a movie where everybody contracts AIDS and dies-sharing this space with the boys from some random government school who'd bunked their classes to watch that epic documentary.

Coming back to Potter, it took a great deal of effort to manage the "3d","english","Harry Potter" together. Got the act together and managed Monday afternoon's show tickets. Well, the movie was strictly below average. I think, I seem to be the only person who thought neither of them could really act. Rupert Grint has stretched,"bloody hell" far too much. Emma Watson could really replace some few from the Indian Soap Operas with the amount of "tear-n-joy" emotion she displayed and the man, Danial Radcliffe really seemed inspired by this obnoxious movie called, "Mai Hoo Na". To be precise, the movie seemed a cross between Mai Hoo naa and Badshah (another Shahrukh Khan trying to be Holmes and Bond together). The effects? Yeah, the best 3d effect award could be simply given to the "english" subtitles in the "english" movie. They were really moving. Besides that, Voldemort was gay and Ralph Fiennes was gorgeous. I think, it's probably a second part but then there is possibly entire world against me and I can't help but blame it on the "magic". Did I say none of them could act to save their life? NONE OF THEM COULD BLOODY HELL ACT IN THE MOVIE. SO OVERWHELMED BY VOLDEMORT.

Somehow, between all this, I took out time to spend every bit of green that I had on footwear and the remaining bit on books. The mindless splurge of the sort that next day you realise you're broke. Whoops.

I really need inspiration to fix my room (a bad Harry Potter flick has inspired me to rant about things that I can control, noo). I'm procrastinating it here. It's serious. Also, I need to put an end to buying glossy, satirical, political and music magazines. It's getting clearer each day that this is it and that's how I'd like to live etc but I need to put a foot down and either make space for them or to dispose them off. I've really created a whole mountain of magazines, books, registers, old newspapers (that I'm obsessed with- the older, the better). I need to clean the closet and not shove in everything together. Need to fix drawers and remove a lurking lizard from one of them. Gah, I really need to fix this ocd with books and magazines. Today, at this bookstore looking for a rare title (that I shan't name for a whole lot of reason) I was the happiest, in what may seem like a month (wait, I was this happy when I got approval for my first story, when was that?). Books, libraries, book stores just make me happy. Even if I've no money, no membership card, the smell of paper is enough to drive me mad. It works like a charm. Today's splurge was a gift to mother, a whole lot of book coupons I had. All of it, book were bought and I came back with a Cosmopolitan (because, uhm, research work). Only to come home and find myself placing an order for the same rare title on Flipkart (which I need to maintain, self control while surfing, or I'll end up like The Shopaholic's Protagonist, which will be sad because I don't even have a bottle green scarf).

Currently, I'm contemplating a nose piercing and a new tattoo. Both, mildly inspired by Lisbeth Slander. You can't blame me but the book's fast enough to keep me occupied while I'm commuting to way back home from places (and usually, I'm very annoyed during the time, if the mode of conveyance is an auto). So, that didn't include a haircut like that but it definitely defined change. I need to break out of the what seems like a whole lot of pent up childhood and teenage thing and embrace maybe another tattoo and a piercing (spoken like a 19 year old). Not, maybe. I think I could do with a set of book coupons and some footwear. I think it's pretty sad that Larsson couldn't go beyond the trilogy. It's a pity for someone like him. I'm reading-delaying the trilogy because I don't want it to end soon, in 3 hours to be precise. Also, saw a part of the Swedish version of The Girl Who Played with the Fire today but didn't continue watching (spoilers and all that).

It's funny, when I talk about falling in love with a library and mention the Millennium Trilogy. Reminds me of a whole lot of people who count Twilight as literature (my sibling being one of them). I think after growing out of Harry Potter I still stick by the fact that J.K. Rowling could write. The Twilight series is a well attempt at earning bucks. Not that Harry Potter was Charity but Twilight against Harry Potter is unfair. But, I really don't need to prove a point to people here. Only dumbfucks defend Stephanie Meyer (trolls, I'm expecting).

Right, the academic term for what seems like third year in college officially begins tomorrow and so does the last and final part in the chapter of what I know I'm doing for sure. Rest of it is a mystery, like the girl who played with the hornet's nest.

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