Friday, May 30, 2008

For the record


I will write a good play. It's one of the few things I think I understand. (Ref: Previous post)


Writing blogs is for confused shit-heads such as myself and Amitabh Bachchan. It is very difficult to make a real point and have someone else understand what you're saying. The only way that can happen is if you tell people something that they already know. But then they rarely end up being real.

Case in point being Chetan Bhagat. The boy has not made a single revelation or provided a single original insight into the human psyche and ergo his books sell. In fact, he is the highest selling Indian author who writes in English. His books are easy to digest. However factually incorrect they are. And so he is a rich man. With cool headshots on the backpages of weekly magazines. Good for him.

If I ever write a book, I will end up like him. All the stupid people will think I'm a god. All the intelligent people will shut up and know I'm a fraud. Then again, maybe I'm giving myself too much credit. I might end up like that kid who wrote that other book on IIT. You know, the one with the guy who had a crush on his female prof? No? Sigh. Good for you.

This is why Edgar Allen Poe is so damn good. I still struggle to read his stories. [/end embarrassing admission]

@Pi: Don't publish that book. One way or the other, you won't be happy. However, give me a copy.

I am now an adult btw. With a degree and everything. Woohoo for me.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Dramatic Re-entry

Studly car pulls up to the kerb.

Door opens.

You see shiny shoe(s).

Camera pans up in slo-mo.

Grey Armani with dashing silk tie.

Aviator sunglasses pulled off.

Man walks onto the red carpet.

Flashbulbs go off.

I'm not there.

I'm at home, watching this on TV. However, in the friendly words of casper...

Um... Boo?


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