What is life?

Whoa, been quite a while hasn't it? I just realised that the last post that H put was way back when we were learning about the power of pausing and how Mozart declared to the world that silence was better than all the music in the world. Knowing Mozart, (and there are few who know Mozart as badly as I do) he must have, umm... lost my train of thought.

As things stand, a lot of water has flown under the bridge since then and all that. H & I, in the meantime, have learnt how to chase happiness. It is apparently a little butterfly that flies about in front of your face every time you close your eyes. But seriously, loved the movie. Ten minutes of silence.

Post that, we beat the retreat. Or rather, we were beaten up by the retreat. Went to jolly old Thailand, where, of all places, the best area to hang out is some bengali road. Crazy, the kind of reach good old Buddhadeb Bhattacharya has. They call him Buddha there, as well. The best part of the whole matter is that a sign at the Thai airport reads - Taking out images of Buddha or any part thereof, from Thailand, is strictly prohibited. Or some such. I mean, I know they like Bengali babus and all that, but this is ridiculous. Heard that Cal is beautiful this time of year. Or rather, heard it has beautiful people. Thank god, no one but H reads this bullshit.

Was sitting quietly at my desk today, when I started going down these trips I usually take in my mind. A lame quizzer would call it a connect trip, or some such nonsense. However, it was a rather melancholic, nostalgic memory of some of the books I have read and how I've come to associate so many memories with them. It started off with me listening to some Floyd on the laptop - more specifically, listening to Obscured by clouds, when I heard this line - the memories of a man in his old age, are the deeds of the man in his prime. And while I listened to this, I thought to myself, "How much more obvious than that can one get?"

However, it got me thinking. I remembered this short story I read, called Creation by Jeffrey Ford. Beautiful stuff, about how one can have too much love. One should read it to figure out why I am feeling so sentimental about it. This guy Ford, also wrote this other great short story about a pixie - the annals of someone. Another very beautiful, "How great is life?" piece. One should read it, as well.

From there, I went along dreaming about Jordan and what a profound influence it has probably had in my thinking and the way I shape my world. Then a trip down Arnold Layne and dragonmount.com. Remember Kate and a night connecting Eco to Azeleas. Back to Thailand for no apparent reason and a dream of dancing.

All in all, a good day. And a good night. By the way, for S and H, it would appear that the Bingo Little phenomenon continues. H, now is the time you say that you're impressed. V, I don't know whether you would be impressed or not, though I doubt you would read this. As H say, C'est la vie. Me? I would rather say, C'est la fille (hope that came out right).

Au revoir, eh?
T