Brown Motion

I think that Hollister - the fictional name of the teen clothing retailer owned by Abercrombie and Fitch (another set of fictional characters) might not be so fictional after all. As I sat pondering meaning of things whilst trying to balance my bodily fluids this morning it hit me. Perhaps like this weekend when Holi and Easter arrived within minutes of each other the folks that watch patterns announced happy Holister. Or to make it more Hollywoody or Socaly called it Hollister. Neither makes any sense since as always they are man made creations it might be that it was designed to appeal to masses that neither celebrate Holi nor Easter. However it definitely appeals to ones that favor the Santa Anas over any Noreaster. However neither ones buying their merchandise as you rightly guessed are Saints or Annas (as in ones that favor lungees) but maybe Santanas and Annas (of the Ruskie kind). The crowd does tend to Lunge for the product as new versions are released in dark cottagy ...

Not to be confused with Oosool for those that follow the language. Wassool is a concept that is born out of conserving capital till there is enough to watch a movie with a theme that is worthy of your liking. Could be dhammal (comedy) or action (lot of dishooms) or mystery and adventure. For some its the chance to see scant to copious versions of scantily clad characters preferably of their liking in the 2 hours or so for which they paid a king's ransom. This was true especially during college days when dineros were hard to come by. Scrape, beg, borrow or earn you were able to catch a flick that once in a while hit the mark and made it feel worth it. Today Hollywood is using this sentiment to turn the tables on the viewership ... Bollywood has also done it for a while. Use prominent cast as advertised lead roles but actually have them only as a cameo in the drama. Sell the picture on their past glory and bag it with a bunch of nobodies shooting their mouth or their guns at ...

C'mon face it - we have all been asked this by our significant other at one time or the other. Usually the asker is a female version whilst the askee is from Mars. Are you sure? As if I am daft? Not sure? Surely you jest dear? No. Its more a wake up call to the brain that is assumed to be in stupor to awaken and make sure. Is the garage door closed? Did you turn off the flame under the cooker? Did you actually drop the child in school? Are you sure? Whence the male proceeds to answer with gay abandon (I need to separately investigate the other types of abandons) that of course he is. Sure that is. Whatever makes you question everything dear? To me many times it appears that the question is more rhetorical in context than an actual questioning of the veracity of my action or intent. If I am not sure am I going to say so? Never. Then why ask? Moreover why not go forth and check on the action that is supposed to have been taken by the askee in the first place. Th...

The family celebrated the arrival of Spring 2013 in Puerto Vallarta (that's Vayarta), Jalisco (that's Halisco) province of south western Mexico (that's Unidos Estados Mexico (Mehico) or officially the United States of Mexico). This was our second visit to the coastal city in the last five years. About 1600 miles due South-SE from San Francisco this beautiful one time collection of fishing villages is now a bustling city of over 250,000 at the foot of the Sierra Madre mountains. With a lush green jungle as backdrop you have large sweeping vistas of the azure Pacific stretching out for miles. The main city nestles along the shore of a bay called Bahia Banderas or Banderas Bay. Banderas or Flags was the name derived from Spanish invaders who saw the locals defending themselves against them with colorful feather flags. This time we spent around a week chilling out and enjoying local foods from freshly made tacos and queso (variety of cheeses) to a crisp Chile Relleno (l...

I am not sure who files? Maybe a blacksmith? Maybe accountants? Maybe salons (as in people's cuticles); Maybe dentists (people's enamel)? I submmitted my earning and expenses to the government is what I did. There again like I have ranted before I am not sure why. As in why does the government want to disturb my peace and quiet to have me tell them what they already know. They get a full account of my monetary goings on the moment it happens. So why burden the poor soul(s)? It is retarded like many a thing in this country. I vote that its a jobs bill. How else could these accountants account and filers file? Not many happy returns but those that give grief. To provide income to those grotesque liberty tax funded 'lady liberty costume' wearing clowns by the roadside who will earn and not report because its not worth reporting. How else would there be bipartisan politicking and immense dollars to fund campaigns and lobbies and the like? How else could softwar...

What if there were no cosmetics? Would people around the world look different? Think different? Be more productive? Or less productive? Be more focused on what matters than not? Would the world be poorer without a large segment of economy being non existent? Would other parts of the economy prosper due to lack of the unessential? Would the DOW be up or down? Would divorce rates go down or up? Would Las Vegas, Dubai, Paris or NY be as popular as they are today? Would our dictionaries be better off without words like Haute xxx or Chic yyy? Would Hollywood and other woods that mimic them exist? Would the society as we know it even exist? Would the murder rates go up? Would we not have Oscars? What would happen to George Clooney? Any clues? Such monu'mental' thoughts churn through my mind everyday.

It seems the human machine has done it again. Got in its own way of self promotion. This time its yoga pants that are drawing the ire of the weary(ee). Or to be wearees. This when aspiring yogics stateside were taken aback with the newest creation from a money making outfit called Lululemon selling them a lemon. Or so they claim in the form of a see through pant. Well you see the goofy wannabe yogis in America were all lining up to buy comfortable (read sexy) yoga gear for mucho dineros. All was well till the customer had the power to decide when it was time to expose certain parts of their anatomy to seek a fellow yogi or berra (many puns intended here) for that matter. That decision making was taken away when the manufacturer (LLL) came out with these see through garments and exposed the farce. There was a mass uproar or so the blogsphere / media would have you believe. So the manufacturer pulled them - the offending pants that is. Now we have naked yogis in search of pants...

Of naming things and people and places - I have encountered some interesting ones in the past few decades - or at least in near term memory that I remember and wanted to jot down - A guy named Supreme. Another named Xerxes. These were both of desi origin. Another named Min (this was a gent of Chinese origins) and of course another named Max (origins unknown). Many more that I have stopped trying to spell. A restaurant named Chemmeen in the US - I actually took it on myself to interview the woner and phind out more about it - its Prawns in Malayalam. A car named Juke (it did make me want to Puke) and one named Venza. A place called WHY and another called Nong Ping. Can you guess Where? Food called Uni, Ahi and Saba (all of which are my favorites) along with some Nori to go with sticky 'L'ice. Greeting that translates to cut and eat in certain Indian language but sounds melodious in Thailand - 'Kapuna kha' or thank you. A place called Point Pelee - which could...

These days when I run into someone new to blogging or just a new acquaintance I send them to view my blog. Rather than get into (a lather) this whole laborious self revelation in the first encounter - at someone's house warming or birthday (or as some of my friends like to call 'Happy Birthday') party I encourage the interviewer into a 'seek and you shall find' mode. This way if they are genuinely interested in the goings on of their fellow human they can blame themselves for trying. Some do ask what it is I blog about - so I got to thinking (not what I should try to answer) and peel the old covers - Its about observable (or overt) and not so human idiosyncracies for the most part; Food is another favorite of mine as are places I've been and enjoyed or not; Then its onto some super duper sci fi make believe world vision that resembles - if I was presidente for a day gasps; Some tend to border on the Existential - WHY question et al; Finally its about beings...

The literal Hindi translation could actually imply 'My murder' as in a murder I committed or my own murder committed by someone else. I know gets to the point where I may have to be committed. Whatever that means. But this is not really about anything drastic like that. Rather a satirical view of this annual ritual we wimps in the US have come to follow in the form of an annual check up at your friendly neighborhood doctor's office. First you get that appointment. Typically you want to shoot for an early morning chit chat since the blood suck has to happen after you have fasted for at least 12 hours since your last meal. Last supper notwithstanding there is nothing holy about this experience. You have to drive on an empty decaffienated tummy to the docs office and expect some strange person who might or might not look like they just stepped off a boat from faraway lands stick needles in your arm. This while putting on a face that is ready to make small talk like ...

1. A name of a female (or male - depending on origins), or 2. An ancient civilization known to have inhabited parts of Central America four thousand or so years ago, or 3. Illusion by another name. Take your pick but what I am thoughtfully vegetating over is the notion that we as a society have no clue about what we are doing right now and what we ought or ought not to do. Many a theorist, captialist, socialist and politician alike have marketed their messages of how they know it and you don't, to their scores of believers and the sheep are merely doing their part in following the goatherd. The genre of the self-help, or for Dummies category exemplifies this thesis. The whole business of preaching is frankly overrated. Its Maya. Perhaps 'Illusion' is the best meaning. Perhaps SMOKE - whether from a Camel, Rothmans, Dunhill; from an old truck or a finely crafted Bentley; whether black or white from Dharavi to the Vatican - its just smoke and mirrors you fools. ...

aka the DEAD RAT. In order to bump viewership and attract some other ethnic groups to visit the blog I decided to go Spanish in the title. Just kidding. I had to read labels on a 'rat poison' package standing in Aisle 15 of the Home Depot to figure out this title. Sounds desparate? Well - its just a funny perspective on how our lives as a society have changed (at least in the major metros) over the past few decades. Disclosure - we had some issues with house rats recently (in case people got the wrong idea). A recent interview on a local public radio station with a Pakistani novelist called Mohsin Hamid further motivated me to pen my own version of what the cliche 'Rata competir por algo' (or rat race) is about. Mohsin has narrated a somewhat relatable opener in his recent self-help book called 'How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia'. That the tectonics under Asia were causing it to rise was not new news, what with forecasts of the Mount (Everest that ...