chorale’s blog

I thought I’d write about some more issues in detail but I see no point. For the moment I am done with rediffiland rediffblogs et al. This is the first time I am quitting this place coz I’ve been forced to do so. Rediff left no choice. I created a new iLand but 75 per cent of my comments turn into arrays which is far more depressing.

I don;t want to lose touch with some wonderful writers I stumbled on iLand. I shall keep visiting you even if you do not drop by. However I wont post here till they sort this mess. This place is annoying like hell.

if anyone is still interested in my writings, you can find me on ..


http://terminal-moraine.blogspot.com


Take care and happy blogging.

#Almost a fortnight since we reluctantly embraced this 'upgraded' site and much to my anguish I remain 'Aria c'.  Fine that rediff iland is rechristened rediff blogs but why was I bestowed a new 'surname' to commemorate this occasion? My everyday ritual is- I click users, click edit profile, change my name which is stored as 'Aria c' to 'Aria' (I wonder who did that ' coz it wasn't me!) and click 'save' I get the message 'user updated' but hey.. everything gets reverted! I remain 'Aria c' and it goes on .. I even tried changing 'c' into something better sounding but that too in vain.  

I persisted that the problem shall get sorted on its own but after exhausting my precious patience a few days later, I decided to send a mail to the admin '  to his credit I got an instant response "Dear Aria, I don't understand your problem, can you please write in detail" so I elaborated the painful procedure in delightful detail and sent again. This time I got the reply "Dear Aria, we will get back to you shortly" and since then I wonder when this 'shortly' period shall end coz I haven't got any reply and I know that the method of  changing 'user information' is something that God her/himself can not divine.  

#The default 'appearance' was shoddy with the categories lined up at the top and content following after. I must say I hadn't seen such an "unique template" before so rediff certainly deserves accolades for this invention but then the old fashioned me preferred categories neatly lined up in the sidebar along with the 'post titles' 'archives' et al.  In short I wanted a fresh appearance but when I threw a glance at the available templates I discerned that most of them are faulty. Half of them do not have guest books/friends tab and even if they do ..it's merely a showpiece coz clicking at them shows blank pages. Perhaps the 'vital info' is shielded from mortal eyes and is treasured in a secret chest. Whatever-  I wished for a 'normal all revealing template' so I hunted carefully for one and activated it. It was OK.  

#A day or two later I got restless so I clicked 'widgets'. I reasoned 'one at a time' so I selected 'calendar' and clicked add. It should be mentioned here that rediffblogs suffers from dyslexia. If you add/erase something it doesn't get the command instantly. It takes its own sweet time. So if you wish to make any change you got to select the option and go for a walk and then return to detect any progress. I didn't know it then so I waited painfully staring the screen and clicking here or there. After a while the calendar did appear.. but beside the guest-book! I concluded that perhaps this widget is for the rear side but a few minutes later it appeared in the front too. I had asked for one and got two ' not bad. I had two calendars ' one at the back and other in front. But guess what? The front calendar had consumed all other widgets - recent posts, categories, archives and everything else which existed in the sidebar. I now had a huge calendar and my posts, thats all.  

Needless to say I was panicking. I deleted calendar and again waited patiently(I wasn't aware of the dyslexia, as yet) the calendar refused to go. In my eagerness I activated another 'appearance' which later seemed better than the previous one ' so all this exercise at least led to something. I dare not add any widget again.  

#A few days later I wanted to post a blog. I always post with pictures and so I clicked the 'insert image' icon on the post blog window and selected a picture from my hard drive and clicked upload. The image icon which appeared on the window was blank. I tried many times. Eight out of ten times the images don't show up and when they do they appear in thumbnails. Then I detected that they ask for vital statistics like  ' height, width and positions like ' top, bottom bah blah. I was never good in mathematics in school and as an adult my biology sucks likewise .. however I fiddled with the numbers and clicked something I know not what ..and then something huge and hazy appeared. When I strained my myopic eyes ' I had an eureka moment! it seemed like the picture I had chosen from my hard drive.. sadly it was repulsive enough for me to abandon the mission impossible. If any of you spammers(only spammers read what I write, i.e. if they read what we write)  know the trick of posting images ' kindly enlighten me, I shall be forever grateful and shall visit your spam site in return.

–

To be continued.

Rediff Blogs suxx ..

PS -

I hate it coz my handle appears as Aria c.. I can neither erase that c nor can I change it to any other alphabet. I have tried it many times. Why should I be forced to call myself ‘Aria c’ ?

I am scared of changing the template coz most other templates do not have Guest-books. I am scared that if I try changing the template I’ll lose my Guest Book which is one unique feature of iLand.

Many comments from my post ‘passage’ have disappeared.. some comments from earlier posts are also missing.

I get almost 20 spam comments everyday thats another headache but I guess we have to deal with it ..

I want to have an avatar picture..

when we post comment on rediffblogs our handle appears as plain text . .why isn’t the link displayed when we are logged in to comment?

first and foremost .. I want my handle back or at least should be given a chance to change that annoying ‘c’ from my second name .. it bugs me immensely.

and I know - no one is listening and I am talking to myself and spammers.. thats about it .. all the more reason to quit this place. I was never too fond of it to begin with.

The supreme solace is in suffering and the sole sapience is existence. When you forget to live and long to exist you've found your hell, which is more intoxicating than a potion of absinthe. Life keeps inventing something that would eventually lead to death, a long way to freedom. You do not fathom it in its arrogance and its pathos but you keep on trying. In this manner creation lures you again, with enrapturing hopes for the future which shall never come, and lulls you into dreams of more than mortal ecstasy, so while you listen to life's siren strain, you sigh ..

Nebulous time, moments between
sleeping and waking engulfed me,
for a split second I was born again
as a graceful gazelle, a humongous
leap could alter present time, and
another better season could follow,
then the second past and I was me,
trapped in life, a time which,
goes on and on

Reality this morning corresponded uncannily to a nighttime dream that I frequently had. The universe seemed contained of these moments in this room and the room was filled with music. I watched as my body began to quake and I saw my head snap back and my eyes roll in their sockets. My body froze and wriggled as if in a death-dance. The muffled half silence took on an underwater blur. Sounds lost their origin. It told me in some odd way that soon the pain would be cut in half. Why could I not make the first leap from my place out there and plunge deeper ..

when time appears to loose it's motion
when mind and body seem to drift apart
a rippled serenity, an eternal melody
free of our masquerade, our own lies,
reveling sublime joys which fears nothing
wishes naught, resents none, and
sinks deeper, into a delicious stupor

There was an elusive figure dancing just in and out of sight. Certainly it was there, enjoying every minute of distress. I savored it too, not only to discover the strength and weakness of my own being but because it tied me to the only feeling that remained in the small world. Escape was the only thought, I didn't want to be touched by any other notion. And then .. sunlight penetrated through the window .. clear warm sky crossed with broad swaths of illumination and a gibbous moon fading at the horizon, which gave enough luster for me to gradually gain a sense of the space I was in, although I lay just beyond tapestry safely silhouetted in the darkness, and life seemed miles away from there

I awoke one night
to a quietness and stillness
I had never known before
the pigeons in the balcony
were not stirring,
the night-guard's cane on ground
did not crackle,
the roaches did not come and go,
and even the ghosts
I had shared the room with
slept in silence.

It was at such a time
I had imagined
I would slip away to freedom,
a time when all the world
had their heads turned
the other way

I peeked out
contemplating winking stars
in clear part of the sky
they were supposed to
guide me away
how ready I had been,
at ease, legs powerful,
heart desperate to stop
under another moon.

My eyes scurried into
the filth of the cavity,
drew something out,
something on life,
I wasn't looking for life,
I was after extinction,
I shoved it back.

Death seemed to have
its own life
so much life that
it could come down,
walked over
and placed itself
over my body
fastening itself.

Death in its melancholic
regal cloak, laughing
exactly resembled life
I had witnessed in
great trench of weeping.
I had found my death,
not the illusory land of
error and miscalculation,
but the real and true.

I had a zest for
enlightened extermination
No wonder I touched
the glory of my wounds.

As I am not much into writing these days and too much into reading I thought of sharing my passion for words, which is assuming that somebody even has time to read this goddamn blog… however that’s not the point.. say.. I just want to compile this small list ‘coz I have nothing better to do ..

my grammar sucks but I am proud of my vocab.. this passion of learning new words esp digging the obsolete kind never wanes. These are some of my favorites that I’d love to use in poetry sometime.. I haven’t used them in my writing so far..

the first word is subintelligitur ..it means something that need not be conveyed verbally but is understood all the same.

Isn’t that a wonderful word? I acquired it recently. I am subscribing to at least a dozen “word of the day lists” and this word was mailed to me by some such site, don’t remember which. This is quite a rare word as is nowhere to be found in online dictionaries.

nudiustertian ..what a delightful word! It simply means day before yesterday; is generally used to denote something that is latest. Rarely used, of course.

versipellous -configuration or nature which changes frequently.another rare word. I picked it up from a classic book and discovered that it doesn’t exist in most dictionaries.

from another classic book I learned the word

flambeaux, which is an obsolete alternate spelling for flambeaus, the plural of flambeau, meaning a decorative candlestick or flaming torch formerly used for nightly illumination.

Words likes these are phantasmagorical and I whim to be transported back in times and behold such charming scenes, a nightly possession of equipage illuminated by flambeaux stuttering beside a turnpike. What a sight that should be!

Lutestring was a type of stout and glossy silk, used by women for dresses or ribbons.
Then again I desire to touch this fabric or watch an 18th century lady attired in lutestrings.

Talking of 18th century attires another interesting word is

roquelaire, an obsolete spelling for roquelaure, a knee length cloak, lined with bright silk or fir trim that 18th century men wore.

and rounding off with my most favorite word.

catafalque - a stand upon which the coffined remains repose during the funeral service.
Eerie! The way it is pronounced and the sound is lovely, irrespective of the meaning.

Do you have a favorite word ?

Things never seem as bad as they were when you are away from them. I feel so .. normal. Normalized me, ridiculous and wonderful. When you return your fingertips are black with old dust, and no doubt new inferences. I am hiddenly flush with the mountain air, memories of the falling quiet, where there was no sky or earth only mist lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the senses and then my favorite hour, when the phantom light of the moon imparted on all objects a shadowy tinge and a somber hue. I was elated to find I'd gone to sleep when the earth was camouflaged in subtle shades of gold and beige and brown and had awakened in a world that shimmered silver.

Even somewhat grateful to be depressed and without anything like the will power to set the mildest fantasy in motion.. I've returned with a bag full of junks that I pick all the time. I rarely adorn them but its one of those vices I don't wish to give up. For a few trinkets and linens the fossil might be restored to life and then my acquaintance with living, whatever it had been, could begin anew though with the same old, rusty pain deep inside the chest.

Talking of vices, I am trying to give up smoking for the first time. I gave it up for three months unconsciously and had started again. This time around, I am resolute. There is no reason why I'm quitting “coz I love the after-taste of nicotine. It sometimes seems to me as if in its nacre-glossed odor one can behold all the sins of the world, passing through your eyes in a cheap display and to top it up with a lovely fog of wine in the brain; exquisite.

The simple cadence of an everyday occurrence, the complex strains and motions we repeat, the monotony of living, sigh sigh .. When you live, you must either in your reasoning start from higher more important places than happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue in their usual meaning or you must not reason at all. So I won't reason. Life for me would be complete when its both vivid and obscure, full of argot and swelled with archaicism..

Note : Sermons are injurious to my health .. Kindly refrain.

Hallo, wallow, keep off me, we were no fucking lovers,
we were rivals, competitors, though we slept together,
dropping rough stones of rage in errant desires
it struck deep, it had lodged itself, I swallowed it down.

We practiced hate, both explosive and the effusive.
It kept us entertained and passionate for two hours.
He hadn't lost his girth or his hair or that dark gleam of his eyes.
Tears swam into my eyes, burning there.
It was admirable I maintained that shield
without turning brittle behind it.

That monstrous burning, released me, kissed me
The first rush of adrenaline was gone, in its place was an innate disgust
for anything that crawled or skittered.
The acme of wickedness! He and I
circling a blizzard of marvels and shudders.

A daredevil glittering delirium stewed about us.
No one was permitted to enter though we weren't alone,
spectral renegades flew from corner to corner,
With him I had fancied self-obliteration's a cinch,
why annihilate myself while he ran freely about us?

After those infernal months of spinning like a little stick
in the glorious whirlpool of a cerebral orgasm
its better to get vainglorified, I'd let his hisness drive him nuts
my myness would to be shipped off on a quarantine
one long overdue and well timed.

The events I catalogued here are perhaps of
other people; I hung around the fringes,
watching.

Its good that I am dabbling again, after such a long time, but I have no clue why I write. My words disgorge one after another like skyrockets. I play with them. I wish they become symbols, and symbols relate to and develop multiplicity and interweaving of themes, each of which augment on a rotten pile of my quest and confuse me further. Who the hell wishes to find something ? Not me. I wish to get lost forever. Everything is tainted for me and I have given up on retrieval.

The molten July heat was so intimately invasive that it crept into my ears, neck and even my thoughts. It has become pleasanter. It rains, pelts, the drops spewing horizontally like bullets in a shelling, a lead curtain of waterfall blown sideways. The variety of rhythm the patter creates seems to be of a nervier pace, has more edge, more drive. It's a kind of rain which makes me insidiously anxious, in the way of some recollected alarm, a warning, or turning point. It usually rains here like an ordinary downpour, a thing of chance. I wasn't waiting. The smell of rain is all around, the heat ebbing out of concrete. I still like the scent of soil but now I hate rains.

More rain awaits me, where I am going. Its going to be a small vacation, amidst great watery sunsets, wild frenzies of blossoming plants, suns colliding with stars, wisps of carelessly cavorting hair. I'll be back in a week and continue this mundane business of writing vitriolic poetry, if poetry it is.. wishing they turn into exquisite morsels, delicately layered, each crowned with its own maltose, in the form of a tiny flower

See you after a week.