Hey Janie, go easy on the pork.
Don’t you know how to hold the fork?
Those spaghetti strings on your shoulder
Have gotta look good tomorrow too.
Another prom with the same old songs
But a different wuss to woo.
Hey Janie, take care to mind your ways
Will you disprove your Mama’s praise?
Don’t swim too far, don’t say those words
Don’t laugh too loud, you’ll scare those birds.
Don’t question a thing, just obey
If you are scared then just pray
Everything will soon be fine
If only you can toe the line.
Strange how I tend to get philosophical when things aren’t really all that fine, its as if i’m trying to see some reason in the morass of confusion which clouds my mind, striving to rein in my errant ways.
The poem below is just a vague manifestation of one these moods which frequently engulf me.
A free spirit takes the plunge
A lively wedge scythes through the air
A rapid escape from the safety above
To a new world with watery snares.
Reality ebbs away into oblivion
Like objects in the mirror of a speeding car
The wet film parts to welcome the soul
Cooling waves embrace the blazing drive,
Farewell to boredom, the dream’s alive.
Spurred on by the quest for a new abode
Delving to explore unknown depths
Instinct the only guide,
Knowledge the only goal,
Adventure the only companion.
A fearless, untainted soul
Unfazed by the lurkings in the trench
Unblinded by the gloomy chasms
Swims further to quench its zeal.
A domain devoid of the golden glow
No hindrance to the exuberant flow
Of the seeker, his fervour undimmed
Some day when he’s seen it all
He’ll sneer at the sun, standing tall.
Been busy at work, trying to cope with a few hindrances – an egoistic boss whose critical attitude is matched only by his cynicism, and a superlatively lethargic colleague who regards procrastination as his motto. In spite of all my desperate efforts, I see my enthusiasm peter off thanks to these obstacles, though I must say Venky (that’s my boss) is really creative and could have been a good mentor if only he had been endowed with a more liberal dose of empathy and patience. But reality isn’t always so simple, so for now I have to bravely withstand the steady censuring barrage of criticism hurled at me.
Noticed that though my nickname reads ‘The Utopian’, there’s barely anything that can be termed as utopian. Every person (that includes myself), every thing around has some fault, something amiss. I wonder why I have this obsession with things being perfect and faultless, and why I expect everything that I do to have no glitches (that none of my work is blemishless is another matter altogether). I wish I could understand Kerubino’s theory of perfect imperfection though it seems conveniently idealist and encourages escapism. But I conjecture happiness is the ultimate goal of life and every person charts out his own route to it.
Pride and Prejudice
Hooked on to Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice at the moment. While Austen did regale me occasionally with her intermittent cynicisms, the book in its entirety has been a drag – I’m still on page 84 after almost a week. I guess classics (??) don’t really appeal to my taste with their verbose narrative: I find myself backtracking through every third line… okay that’s an exaggeration but honestly an edited version of this long-drawn novel wouldn’t have been half as long as the original.