To My Garry

Three moves and I know the outcome of the game
Your wit, your humor keeps me on edge of my seat
Yes the end is the very same but each move unique, you are a master of this game
Am happy, beaten and my ribs smitten with your wit
So I salute you again, till we meet for the next game

From the silly old Fool

Thanks for stopping by my blog. I am Aunt Dee Dee. I am a collector of quotes and proverbs and such and love to see them applied in life as well as getting a big kick out of the humorous ones. I will probably write up some articles, too, about the things that amuse me or makes me say, Whaaa?!
I would really love to hear what favorite quotes, proverbs or quips that you like and why, if you’d like to share the reason. So, let’s kick things off with that until I can figure out what the hey I’m doing with my blog, lol!
For now, my quote for the day is, Patience is a virtue. That is my prayer, too, for myself as I navigate the Word Press blog world.

“i have skills, you know. i have a wit like none you’ve known. i can turn a phrase…from brown to beige.”

“Thirty-one students, mainly from Waterford Institute of Technology, were arrested overnight following fights, brawls and disorder in the city centre and a housing estate that is largely rented to students, gardaí said. Some of the students come from Dublin, Cork and Carlow …” (more)

[Irish Times, 4 December]

Well look what I got.

And boy was I surprised.    Especially since it was “hand delivered” by Leslie.

Check this out:  This painting was done by Leslie.  And she gave me the award “for my wit, wisdom and continued journey in art.”    She is too kind.

The recipient passes this award on to another blogger in seven days and pledges to follow the new recipient’s blog.

So, be on the lookout.  In a few days I will pass this award on to another fellow blogger.

And thanks again Leslie!  This was a wonderful surprise.

Veembur Mana

To return to our narrative.

Maternal grandmother (lady in white) had three brothers. Marriage of the eldest brother was fixed; he was to marry the sister of my maternal grandfather. Before marriage he died.

 Undeterred by this tragedy, the elders decided that the next in line marry her. God’s ways are strange. The would-be bridegroom too died. The elders were unmoved. The third son, Bhavadasan  married my mother’s aunt. VBS is her grandson, Bhavadasan (junior) being elder and Krishnan, only one year elder to me, being the third. Like the brothers Karamazovs, the threesome are dissimilar to each other. They had two living sisters, Sreedevi and Savitry (both no more).

Being closely related, they took care of our monetary needs like school fees; from a loan interest we got our monthly budget of Rs.10. The compound surrounding the mud hut was full of areca nut trees. The fallen leaves were collected by ma and used as fuel. She would carry water from the faraway well (normally the well is attached to the kitchen and we draw water from the well, standing inside the kitchen).I have nonchalantly watched it, but never offered help. Now I see my wife working in the kitchen and her daughter watching TV. Is this a rule of nature?

We got a meagre quantity of rice from tenants. I would go to the farmers, enjoying the scenery en route, collect rice and bring it home in a country canoe. My elder brother being unconcerned, I became the father figure at the age of thirteen.

One day uncle (VBS’s father) told me we were entitled for ration card being below poverty line;as instructed, I went to the Tehsildar office some ten miles way, handed over the application, waited patiently till 4.50 pm, when, pitying my innocence and helplessness, the peon told the clerk to do the needful and I returned with the ration card !

 Naraphan-short for Narayanaphan.

 I don’t remember him. He was VBS’s grandfathr’s son by his second wife who was half mad. The whole property of Veembur Kadalayil became a matter of litigation with a Tamil Brahmin from whom heavy sums were borrowed for construction of the tile factory, the first in our area,which still stands near level crossing at Ollur railway station, and, for maintaining luxurious living (every time maternal grand mother came home, she was given a gold sovereign-a coin prevalent then).  At one stage, the vakil of the opponent secretly visited our ancestor and advised him to deny in the court that he borrowed money; a Nambudiri’s word was taken as true even by a court in those days. A Nambudiri may never lie. True to tradition, the honest ancestor refused to lie and the whole property came into Tamil Brahmin’s hands.

Litigation continued. As he was educated, Naraphan shouldered the responsibility. By 6am train, he would leave for Ernakulam where the High Court is located. We can only guess the number of times the poor fellow travelled to Ernakulam, sometimes without pocket money, in the hope of ultimate success!

At long last, the gods smiled-he won the case but lost his life. To celebrate the victory, he ate sumptuously at a restaurant. It was cholera epidemic time. As soon as he returned home, he started vomiting. He died, his mad mother died and even VBS’s sister Gauri, still a girl, died……Triumph of Death over Life…

I have vague memories of attending pindam ceremony. (Why don’t we leave the dead alone?)

 VBS’s father worked hard to keep the family going. He even worked as poojari at Pisharikal temple where tradition forbade us Kadalayil family members to do pooja.

And yet he was always cheerful and full of humour and wit. VBS was studying in college. His elder brother was in army (he was discharged for being sympathetic to the left-Britain ruled by proxy) and Krishnettan was in Ooty (as cashier in some restaurant-he became fair as a white man when he returned) Uncle and I were together. One day he was so upset that he told me “your mother is mad”.

I had learned to stoically suffer almost anything in this life. I must have looked like an idiot which I actually am.

It took me a while, but I finally jumped on the Amy Winehouse bandwagon. You know me: I don’t like anything that’s popular. Are tweeny-boppers listening to it? Did it get nominated for a Grammy? Then it must not be for me. Amy Winehouse, like Norah Jones and others, is an exception: a popular musical artist who is actually an artist–a thoughtful individual not just trying to churn out quick hits for big bucks, but to make music that will last.

I gave her a listen only on a whim. I had been given both her albums–Frank and Back to Black as gifts in March, but it wasn’t until late May that I buckled down and listened. And was very pleasantly surprised. Who knew that anyone out there still cared about lyrics? And who would have ever thought that irreverence–but not vulgarity–could be such a winning talent and skill? On the opening track to Frank, “Stronger than Me,” Amy laments a wimpy boyfriend whom she thinks should be stronger, more manly, etc. (disclaimer: I do not agree with her sentiment. Being male does not mean you have to conform to traditional notions of manliness). She sings, “You always wanna talk it through / I’m okay / I always have to comfort you / Everyday / But guess what I need you to do / Are you gay?” It’s one of those moments in which you’re not sure if you should laugh or shake your head, offended.

Amy is the Queen of Contrast, as I call her. Take a song like “I Heard Love Is Blind,” a song explicitly about a one-night stand set over beautiful major seventh chords and other lovely jazz harmonies:

I couldn’t resist him / His eyes were like yours / His hair was exactly your shade of brown / He’s just not as tall / But I couldn’t tell / It was dark and I was lying down.”

The juxtaposition of jazz and sex isn’t new; but stating it so outrightly is. That’s what makes Ms. Winehouse so great: her brashness, her confidence with subjects that go untouched in the mush that is contemporary pop and R&B.

I don’t know of very many artists whose music and lyrics work together as well as that of Amy Winehouse. Many times, when I listen to indie rock, I think, What great lyrics, but this is boring white people music; and many times when I listen to contemporary soul, or funk, or hip-hop, I think, What a great track, but this is boring Black people music. It’s so rare that both parts seem essential to the story, to what the artist is trying to say.

I especially love Amy for her humor. She is as wry as it gets. It’s evident on “I Heard Love Is Blind,” “Fuck Me Pumps,” “Amy, Amy, Amy,” and others. “Fuck Me Pumps” is the most interesting of these tunes, because it paints a portrait of women that is simultaneously hilarious and tragic. The bitter way in which many women hold on to youth is penned perfectly by Amy. She has a keen eye and ear for interpreting pain, also evident on the song “Love Is a Losing Game” on Back to Black. On this track, her sardonic wit takes a backseat to heartbreak, to hopelessness. I love the lyric “Memories mar my mind,” for both its meaning and sound.

And that’s what it really comes down to: meaning and sound. “The cross between meaning and sound” is a common definition of what poetry is, and Amy exemplifies it perfectly. The meaning of her lyrics crossed with the sound of her music–sometimes hip-hop, sometimes Vandellas- and Supremes-eqsue, is original and it’s striking. Kyla approves.

“Gardaí in Waterford arrested 31 students last night and in the early hours of this morning for a range of public order offences in the city. It is understood the students were out celebrating their annual Christmas Day event when the arrests were made …” (more)

[RTÉ News, 3 December]

If this is the first you’ve seen of it, the idea was to place blank speech bubbles on outdoor advertising around New York in the hopes that people would be compelled to fill in the empty space. Like anything ‘crowdsourced’, there was a lot of shit. But a few very good ones survive in my memory.

When I first stumbled upon this work, I was gutted. I had spent the last few months on a similar project here in Auckland. I had treated my speech bubbles as more of a writing exercise than a public forum; they were pre-filled with all manner of overdisclosures.

Just as I began to get feedback from the public, I switched out the messaging to promote an upcoming show my band was about to play. Hijacking other people’s advertising space proved a very effective (not to mention cost effective) solution – even if it was totally illegal. My bubbling continued right up until Ji Lee’s project was made public on the Droga 5 website. That’s where I discovered it.

The great thing about street art is that the community is very forgiving. Even if the writing isn’t great, you’ll gain a certain amount of respect just for getting it in the public arena. Because it’s essentially free, there’s plenty of opportunity to play. Or to execute over and over again until you do get a few right. It’s definitely a medium I’d like to work in more often. But I think my brief foray into bubbling proves that unless you have an idea that nobody else anywhere in the world is doing (whether you know about it or not), you’re wasting your time.

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2566/4153364653_6209a2c792_m.jpg

http://www.positivelite.com/

Yesterday, December 1, 2009, marked the official launch of a very important social network and online community.  It is also very exciting to note that this important media launch was planned to coincide with World AIDS Day.  What a great idea!  You will come to know the importance of this as you read on.

PositiveLite.com is a brand new e-magazine for HIV positive gay men and their friends. It is the product of many months of work, development, and planning by Brandon Williams and Brian Finch who are both ‘out’, long term surviving HIV positive men living in Toronto.

The website will provide something over and above the typical blog that we see everywhere on the web these days.  PositiveLite.com is different than other websites as it is an online social space where readers and members have access to unique perspectives of people who live with HIV/AIDS, as well as those who have been affected by it in so many other ways.  Contributors on PositiveLite.com represent many aspects of our everyday reality, as community members, thinkers, and friends.  I myself, as a friend of many who are HIV positive, find spaces like this site to be inspirational and important in lieu of today’s neo-liberal zeitgeist.  In other words, this online social space, as a voice for people affected by HIV/AIDS, is long overdue.  Here is a place where those living with HIV/AIDS make sense of their lives with discourse, personal stories, art, social media, multi-media, and humour.

It is the first of it’s kind in Canada, bringing together several published, well-known, and respected HIV positive voices such as: Life-Coach Brandon Williams (http://www.btscoaching.com), social advocate, writer, and humourist Brian Finch (http://acidrefluxweb.com), Montreal lawyer Ken Monteith (http://talktothehump.blogspot.com), Toronto stylist Phillip Minaker, advocate Robyn Pardy, HIV health & treatment specialist Devan Nambiar, Toronto columnist Derek Thaczuk, blogger and facilitator Bob Leahy (http://www.hivstigma.com/blogs/bob/),advice columnist John Maxwell, columnist Corey Washington, internet gossip columnist Perez Sheraton, internet gamer and self-confessed gadget geek Sebastien Goulet, and astrologist Soul Garden (http://www.soulgardencollective.tv/).

I hope people sign up for membership on PositiveLite.com (www.positivelite.com).  I am betting there will be daily entries that will educate, provoke, and certainly entertain its readers.  From what I have seen so far on PostiveLite.com, blog entries are taking multiple forms in both written and visual formats.  You can bet there will be much creativity being utilized and explored while this social media site evolves.

This is also going to be an online space offering social networks and workshops for people to take part.  It offers the ability for members to become reflexive parts of this energetic community.  I am certainly looking forward to seeing how this site will evolve over time.  The contributors come from various diverse backgrounds, all with content that is aiming to be collective and mutually constructive.  This website has the promise of constructing new meanings and descriptions of how people not only live with HIV/AIDS, but thrive in so many aspects of their everyday realities.

It is also very exciting to note that PositiveLite.com has aligned itself with media organizations important to Toronto and Canadian LTGBQ communities such as Shaun Proulx Media (www.GayGuideToronto.com), OUTTV’S The Shaun Proulx Show), and The AIDS Committee of Toronto.

Congratulations to Brandon, Brian, and everyone involved in this project.  I wish you the greatest of success!

Richard Birch

PositveLite.com logo used with kind permission.

Dan Rhodes is perhaps the most hated man in fiction. You’ll often find his prose referred to as “vacuous”, “dross”, or “the worst book I have ever read”.

The best thing about being a polarising Scotsman and hyper-literary wanker is that there are plenty of people who will love you for it – myself included. You’ll gain an inexplicable appreciation for Rhodes’ work with a visit to his website.

‘Laughing’ is an excerpt from Anthropology and a Hundred Other Stories (2000), a collection of 101 thought processes that thoroughly expose Rhodes’ obsession with romance and unfortunate accidents.

72 uur wit, tijd, ruimte en stilte.

Ben Benaouisse in het SMAK.

En ik die zijn plaats wil inpakken.

Want dat moet toch zalig & inspirerend zijn!

Bron De Standaard – © Lieven Van Assche

<a href=”http://kajalkumarcartoons.blogspot.com”>http://kajal.tk</a>:)
<a href=”http://kajalkumar.tk”>http://kajalkumar.tk</a>
<a href=”http://sahibaat.blogspot.com”>http://sahibaat.blogspot.com</a>

In a Lonely Place | Nicholas Ray, 1950

Before watching Humprey DeForest Bogart in Nicholas Ray’s A Lonely Place, a few years ago now, I had never been wholly blown away by any of his performances. I could see the charm and the way he suited such Noir-ish roles as Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe, but it took until Ray’s film for me to truly appreciate his talent. With  In a Lonely Place Bogart is actually handed meat to go with his skeleton role, meat he goes after with twenty years’ worth of appetite to create one of the more intriguing characters in memory. Dixon Steele is a tired and laconic screenwriter whose disdain with the movie industry is matched only by his sharpened wit. Cash dwindling, Steele is roped back into the arduous task of adapting the latest trashy bestseller. Instead of taking the proposition seriously, he proceeds to invite a young hat-check girl home to sum up the story, a girl who is later found murdered with our hero as the prime suspect. Steele, however, is quickly cleared by mysterious blonde neighbour Laurel Gray (played by Gloria Grahame) and a whirlwind romance between the pair commences. As mentioned previously, I’ve always admired Bogart’s carving out of a niche for the strong silent type, indeed most of the characters he has portrayed have certain similarities. As an actor he is a man’s man, and this personality is strongly upheld in the roles with which he dealt. The character of Steele seems to deviate from this mean, and Bogart seems glad to be able to play with such layered personage.

Of course, there is still the wise cracking character trait for which Bogart became known, and who could do it better? His one-liners here are particularly keen, ensuring that the audience is immediately won over by Dixon Steele despite his contemptuous antics. As the film wears on, however, and the writer becomes embroiled in scribbling away at his plot, aggressive cracks appear in his previously calm nature, allowing both his companion Laurel and ourselves as the audience to question the earlier certainty of our man’s innocence. Steele is a fervidly imaginative storyteller and Bogie channels this nature quite expertly, in the end even we ourselves are unsure whether or not he is indeed capable of such a crime. In a Lonely Place shrugs off some pacing issues thanks to a remarkably incisive script, one that also aids in building our lead man’s staggering performance. This is less a film about the process of writing movies and more about the lonely place within one’s own psyche. We come to realise that Dixon Steele knows this place rather well, and this is exhibited vigorously through his increasingly destructive personality. This, in itself, leads In a Lonely Place to a well-placed twist to the man-alone ideal, riding an explosive Bogart performance to create one of the most layered and unconventional examples of the noir genre to which I have ever bared witness.

Our Rating:

Ik sla je open.
Als een hofnar buig ik voor de contouren van je schaduwen.
Eigenlijk wil ik het niet doen.
Soms is het beter om er niet over na te denken en je zwart te pakken.
Grijs kennen we soms niet.
Verderop hoor ik gestommel.
Het leidt me af en ineens ben je verdwenen.
Geen zwart,
Geen grijs.
Maar wit.
Wit als de radeloze nacht.
De benen willen niet achter je aan en je gaat de hoek om.
Je was een idee. Of toch een plan?
Ik moet de kleuren mengen en zorgen voor samenhang.
Geordende chaos in een vermoeid brein.
Ik hoopte wel eens dat ik kon ruilen.
Die tijd is geweest.
Groen en geel, dat zijn mijn kleuren, want ik erger me aan jouw zwart witte.

Nous avons perdu notre chat, Moumoute, depuis le mardi 17 novembre 2009, Hondsbergen, 20 – 3080 Vossem – Tervuren.
Moumoute est un mâle castré de 3 ans.
Il est tigré noir & gris/brun avec des tâches blanches sur le visage, le ventre, la bavette et les pattes.
Il ne portait malheureusement pas de signe d’identification : pas de collier, pas de tatouage, pas de puce électronique.
Depuis sa disparition nous avons déjà averti la police de notre commune et la commune voisine (rien n’a été signalé jusqu’à présent).
Nous avons placé plusieurs annonces sur internet ainsi que distribué des affiches partout dans notre quartier.
Nous espérons toujours pouvoir retrouver Moumoute et continuons nos recherches.
Si vous avez des informations, ou si vous avez vu ou recueilli Moumoute prévenez-nous aussi vite que possible s’il vous plaît.
Merci d’avance.
Contact
Anne-Catherine Vuylsteke
Gsm: 0499/99.95.40
Email