So my knees are back to normal. And my throat is almost back to normal. And I'm almost back to normal.

Still settling in to the new apartment. Though honestly I don't think I ever will be able to settle in. I'll always find something to complain about.

Thankfully the weather hasn't gone to hell yet. The days are getting shorter though which is never a good sign. After four winters here I'm still going to hate this new one. We should be like birds and migrate.

Thanks to the physical and mental discomfort of the move, I'm back to reading comics with a vengeance. Comics are my comfort food.

At work on a Sunday. But that's all right, I didn't have much to do anyway. I would have probably spent the day parked in front of the TV reading a comic book. Which sounds great, now that I think about it.

Yesterday, I was at State Street, and was infuriated with the number of parents roaming around with their freshmen children. Parents go home. Leave your kids be. State Street looks better that way.

I have to start going to the gym again, but am apprehensive thanks to the whole knee situation. I will go though. Probably start next weekend.

I'm off to lunch now. Please forgive the poor quality of prose in this post (all those damn "thanks to's"). I'm in no mood to fix it.

New apartment. Hectic moving day. Knee problems. Throat problems. Slight fever. Work deadlines. No time to blog :(

Here's the plot. If you could send one message back through time to your younger self, what would it be and would your younger self listen?

A few (two and a half) years ago I would have answered this question quite differently from how I'm going to answer it now.

Here's the resolution. I would ask my younger self to work a lot harder than he (I) will (did) during the first semester at Wisconsin and to switch from signal processing to image processing even earlier. How would I convince my younger self? Put something in the message which he (I) would recognize as something only I (he) know and would never possibly reveal to someone else even under torture.

Here's the twist. How will I answer this question in the future?

Everyone writes (reads) their own novel.

So after not buying the series when it was running, and not buying the hard-back graphic novel when it was released a couple of months ago, I finally picked up the soft-cover last weekend. I am talking of course, of Wanted written by Mark Millar with art by J. G. Jones and Paul Mounts. Instead of the usual rigmarole that I usually insert at this point, I guess I'm just going to quote a little (careful this stuff is rated R):

This is my best friend having sex with my girlfriend over an Ikea table I picked up for a really good price.

This is me meeting him for dinner two days later and pretending not to know about it as we enjoy some really nice Korean food together.

This is the office where I work as an assistant to the associate editor on Hypothyroidism Today, the third-biggest auto-immune periodical on the Eastern seaboard.

This is me taking shit from my African-American boss. As you can see, I'm smiling as she insults me but it's only because I'm embarrassed by the situation and more than a little afraid of the scary fucking bitch.

This is the sesame-crusted salmon over sourdough with mustard greens and wasabi mayonnaise I like to have for lunch just to prove I'm different from the herd.

Most weekdays, these semi-literate cholo fucks meet me off the bus and on the walk behind me hurling insults about my baggies or my old-skool pumas.

Most weeknights, I tell my girlfriend I'm finishing up some work, but spend a couple of hours browsing the net for new stress-related diseases I think I might have.

I'm not a bad person or anything. I'm just an ordinary guy in a bad situation. Doesn't everyone hate neighbors who exhibit a relentless cheery disposition? "Cheer up, Wesley. It might never happen, kiddo."

My name is Wesley Gibson and my dad walked out on my mom when I was eighteen weeks old.

Did he look into my baby-blues and realize that he'd just fathered one of the most insignificant assholes of the 21st century?

From here on things only get much much better. This is closest a comic book has ever come to Kill Bill. In some places this thing is even better.

If we are all going to die anyway, why do we continue to live our lives?

The night’s too quiet
Stretched out alone
I need the whip of thunder
And the winds dark moan
I’m not Abel, I’m just Cain
Open up the heavens
Make it rain

"Make it rain," Real Gone, Tom Waits.

Tom Waits is a bloody genius.

After getting pissed off with what Starbucks (and all the other coffee shops in the US) try to pass off as chai, I decided to make some real chai at work.

How to make chai in a chai-challenged office:
(i.e. with a mug and a microwave)

What:

• Tea-bags (Black tea only, try Brooke Bond Red Label or Brooke Bond Taj Mahal available at your neighborhood Indian store. If you can't get those, try Twinings English Breakfast)
• Sugar
• Water
• Milk (Vitamin D is the best, you can make do with 1% or 2%.)

How:

• Fill half your average coffee mug with water. (Yes, half.)
• Add two teaspoons of sugar (You can add more or less depending upon your nationality.)
• Add the tea-bag (The stapler pin hasn't sparked in my microwave. It could in yours. This is not my problem or responsibility.)
• Microwave on high for 45 seconds. The water will boil. The resultant brew will be very dark and very aromatic.
• Let the tea-bag steep for about 45 - 60 seconds more.
• Add enough milk to fill slightly less than three quarters the mug and stir. (Yes, three quarters. Only barbarians drink a mug full of tea. The only reason I even use a mug is because I don't have a tea-cup at work and mugs are easier to handle with my huge hands.) Update: Slightly less milk than that even. You'll know it's right when the taste of milk does not overpower the tea. I wish I could say what color, but browns are hard to do on the web.
  
• Microwave for 15 more seconds.
• Chai is ready. Be careful, it will be very very hot! (Serves one.)

Things to notice:

• Notice how I haven't added any extra spices to the chai. This is basic chai as served and enjoyed by millions (billions?) of Indians everyday.
• You could try adding some cardamom during brewing. Very little, very very little. What most Indians actually add are the skins of some shelled green cardamom pods. Of course, only wimps do this sort of thing. Real men only drink real chai, not some wimpy brew containing strange spices. You want strange spices, go eat some curry.
• As you drink it, notice how those taste buds wake up from the coma that your daily coffee has put them in. Notice how your nose remembers that it's alive and starts sending signals to your brain again.
• Drinking tea regularly will dramatically improve your sex life. (Why else would India and China, the largest tea consumers, also have the largest populations?)

Book tagged by Saket.

Total number of books I own: About a 100 in the US. Many many more in India.

Last book I bought: The Batman Chronicles - Vol. 1, by Bob Kane, Bill Finger et. al. This basically reprints the 1938 comic strip introducing the Batman. But this was more of a fanboy purchase. The real last purchase has been the three volumes of Animal Man, Animal Man, Origin of the species and Deus Ex Machina, by Grant Morrison, Chas Truog and Brian Bolland.

Last book I read: The Filth, by Grant Morrison and Chris Weston.

Currently reading: Trying to read The Design of Everyday Things by Donald Norman.

Five favorites:

1. Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie: "All children, except one, grow up." How could you not love this book? It had everything, you could fly, you could go to Neverland ("Second to the right, and straight on till morning."), and fight pirates. Hook, Tick tick tick tick!, Tinker Bell, Tiger Lily, the never bird, I could go on.

2. The Sandman Series by Neil Gaiman and various artists: This is actually ten volumes (14 if you count the two newer ones and the two Death volumes) but it's one long story so I count it as one book. This is probably the best long story around, having equal parts fantasy, horror, science fiction and art. It's also the best introduction to graphic novels for beginners to the medium. Recommended without reservations. , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

3. The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand: I guess this was my first introduction to capitalism, which you didn't really understand growing up in the '80s in India.

4. Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain: Again, this is one long story and counts in my mind as one book. I read these when I was really really young at my father's recommendation. I identified with Tom Sawyer. The faking of illnesses, the importance of your "stuff" (locks with no keys, pieces of film, magnifying glasses etc.), that first crush on Becky Thatcher, I could go on. You should read these, and more importantly have your kids read them too.

5. I guess it's hard to choose a fifth book because there are so many books that I liked enough to put in the this slot. I guess I'm going to put them all. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, Batman: Year One by Frank Miller and Dave Mazzuchelli, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller, The Complete Far Side by Gary Larson, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson, A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway, Candideby Voltaire, everything by William Shakespeare, I'm sorry but I'm going to stop abruptly because I don't see any end in sight to this list.

Who do I tag? sprechen obviously. And also /<0USIK. And also Jean Valjean (A brand new blogger! Let's all welcome Monsieur Valjean folks!) Damn, I wish more of my friends would blog!!!

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time

"The Blower's Daughter"
Damien Rice

Clementine: This is it, Joel. It's going to be gone soon.
Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it.

Friday night. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Imsomnia. The Crystal Method. Tweekend. Orkut surfing. halftoneimg. flickr album. Café del Mar. Conan reruns. Sennheiser HD 470. Straight Ahead. Silence when the playlist is over. Nitin Sawhney. foobar2000. Replaygain. Migration.

If I'm lucky, Grant Morrison tomorrow.

Sea spray. I touched, tasted and smelt it over this weekend. Needless to say, I'm gonna be high for a while.

Also met someone who gave up meat voluntarily in seventh grade. Got me thinking. How? How is that possible? How could she decide and then stick with it? When she was what, twelve? I still have trouble waking up when the alarm rings every morning. How can you be that determined?

Also met an old friend. Who's still the same. More or less. Changed as much as I have.

Met old acquaintances. Another old friend sent me a hi. I said hi too.

Did the stupid-ass things that we would do as students. Except that we aren't students anymore. But doing stupid-ass things never goes out of fashion.

Realized that I have finally mastered the art of sleeping on long flights in seats with limited leg room.

Madison is warm as hell and I love it. Dandelion clocks are flying all over the place. Sleep with the windows open. Someone send me a lover.

Sea spray. I touched, tasted and smelt it over this weekend. And saw wild orcas frolicking in the Pacific Ocean. Needless to say, I'm gonna be high for a while.

About two weeks ago, I experienced the literary equivalent of suddenly noticing the rather large African elephant that's part of the bathroom decor. I realized that I had never actually read "V for Vendetta" by Alan Moore.

The book arrived in a few days and like most other Alan Moore books was a gripping but difficult read.

Instead of spoilers I'll just quote.

I don't know who you are. Please believe. There is no way I can convince you that this is not one of their tricks. But I don't care. I am me, and I don't know who you are, but I love you.

I'm sure you'll want to read the rest of Valerie's letter.

Mondays: Designed by mankind to torture all joy and happiness out of me, they work very well. I hate Mondays. I hate Monday mornings (hungover, sleepy etc.), I hate Monday afternoons (sleepy), I hate Monday evenings (the fact that the week has four days left sinks in) and I hate Monday nights (keep thinking about Saturday night).

Tuesdays: Tuesdays are a wee bit better. But mostly I hate them too. My bad mood from Monday hasn't disappeared and all the work procrastinated on Monday has come back to bite my ass. Time to procrastinate some more!

Wednesdays: The first rays of hope in the week come on Wednesdays. Early Wednesday morning, I wake up and I think, "Half the week is over, half the week is over!". Wednesdays keep me alive.

Thursdays: Ironically they are worse then Wednesdays. Every Thursday I come to the sad conclusion that the weekend isn't here yet. But I do feel better as the day progresses.

Fridays: The weekend starts in my mind as soon as I wake up. My mind starts the complex procedure of shutting itself off. A complete system shutdown has happened by the time I have my first coffee. Luckily my body has trained itself to pretend to work so my coworkers don't notice.

Saturdays: Saturdays are holy. The day starts at lunchtime when I wake up. After a visit to the twin Churches (those would be the comicbook shop and the library), my legs go on vacation after parking me in front of the TV. As I watch my mind atrophy, I smile comes to my face.

Sundays: Sundays are spent pretty much the same as Saturdays. Except Sunday nights which are spent blocking out the looming Monday.

Zooey!



Go watch The Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy!

Listen to Nick Drake. Listen to Five Leaves Left. Listen to Bryter Layter. Listen to Pink Moon. Listen to Time Of No Reply. Listen to Made To Love Magic. Be careful not to hurt yourself.

From the how-ignore-a-Microsoft-solution-and-diss-them-anyway department.

Boingboing reports how to prevent data loss from a stolen laptop. While they mention moving to a Mac and using a PGPDisk or using FileVault (which is broken), they seem to conveniently forget that Windows 2000 and XP Professional ship with the Encrypting File System, made specifically for this purpose.

Yeah, I'd really love buying a $2000+ Apple laptop and go through the pains of moving all my data to it, to use a feature my current operating system already has.

I also love this quote

2. Seriously, about the Mac thing. Police organizations are far more proficient with Windows.

Yeah, we think security through obscurity is very very bad thing. Unless of course, we can use it as a reason to get people to switch to a Mac.

Round and about, inside the leper's skin,
Do run the warriors, fighting from within.
No questions are asked, no answers are needed,
There is no plan, they fight unheeded.

Someday, somehow, the leper shall wake,
And ask his masters about yonder snake.
They will not answer, they will not reply,
For they know, that to answer is to die.

Falling asleep again, the leper shall dream,
About the snake and the hiss and the scream.
The leper will sleep until he wakes again,
More questions, no answers, no rain.

The story continues, no lessons are learned,
Again the leper and treasure unearned,
The snake and the dream and no replies,
This is the end, the truth sometimes dies.


Reply -Hob Gadling, April 15, 2005

Have you ever pondered Leonardo Da Vinci and how none of us can ever be like him? He was a master painter, anatomist, physiologist, inventor and engineer. He painted the Mona Lisa, the Last Supper, he invented a flying machine, he thought up the first robot, the first tank, the first machine guns, and this could go on.

I write programs that teach computers how to see. But I'd like to also be an artist, a musician, a singer, a doctor, a writer and a millionaire. But I there's no damn way I can do that many things professionally. Sure, I could probably buy some papers and ink or a Graphire and draw, or buy some canvas and paint, or just start hammering out my great novel, and maybe even get some multitrack software and write and record some songs. ("Doctor" is not a possibility even when I'm fantasizing) But I don't have the time to do any of this. Regular readers will know I don't even seem to have enough time to update this blog.

A cynical friend of mine introduced me to the cliche "Life is a bitch and then you die." And scrawled on this pillar, by some homeless guy, near where I used to live, at Kala Ghoda, were the words "I know I'm going to Heaven because I've lived my life in Hell." Actually life isn't that bad, but it's stressful enough for me to want to spend most of my free weekends soaking into TV, movies, music and books. I often used to think that I lacked ambition, but now I realize that I'm too ambitious for this era. There are too many things I want to do and the world won't let me. So I don't bother and if this world misses out on my genius, it's not my problem.

If the earth was destroyed to make way for an intergalactic hyperspace bypass and a spaceship whisked you away at the last minute, making you the only human being alive, which songs would you be able to sing to yourself, remembering all the lyrics (no snatched stanzas)?

My list:

• One - U2
• In My Life - The Beatles
• Girl - The Beatles

What's yours?