here's my hundred...you know where to put it
the general consensus seems to be that i should post more often, laid bare and so succinctly stated by certain salty someone: (i didn't mean the salty bit, it just went with the alliteration. go with it.)
'ah you should post more often'
it is the simple statements that compound upon the poundings aside my salty head (see, now i called myself salty so we're even). statements that include, but are not limited to, the following:
"vikas, why do you look so tired?"
"vikas, why are you eating so much ice cream?"
"vikas, how did you manage to bite your own tongue without actually eating anything?"
"vikas, you're a prideful, pedantic poseur. a pathetic palindrome of paltry, pasty penances. the same forwards and backwards without being any more interesting."
"vikas, you need a haircut."
and for your information, that tongue thing? never happened. no, not that tongue thing, the other tongue thing. the tongue thing three paragraphs up. up, up, wait no too fa...yeah, that one.
and now that the weird simple-statements-that-compound-the-salty-whatever thing is boring me, we move on.
ahem.
it's almost foreign, typing for myself again. the passing of january took with it the last of the real keyboard titterings. did i just type titterings? i mean come on, honestly. typing and typing and diving into code, emails and emails and shooting calendars and speeding my palms over a sea of plastic keys. filming became winter's final coat of snow, looking very nice from a distance and feeling great when you've got a fever. but a layer over the world that you would feel differently about if it became permanent. except without all that drama i put into it just now.
it's more like i'm glad to be all the things i am with this film. calling me a producer and a writer and an actor and an entrepeneur and all the other shiny little gold labels that i've been given over the past six months doesn't impart the particulars of each job. there is difficulty and ease and a hundred other shades. sometimes i sound like i'm complaining, sometimes like i'm proud.
most times i sound like a damn fool.
but you get past trying to do it all and knowing it all and having more pies than you can put fingers in. you get past the point of being a perfectionist and you start being a realist. or a humanist. whatever the word is for knowing when to quit and knowing when to flick off the laws of life.
and i just saw a jetta commercial that ended in a car crash. caught you by suprise, didn't preach and didn't say a thing. just kinda happened, laugh laugh har har BANG. way to go, jetta commercial. way to go.
but the next few days are waiting for the final location, the last three weekends of shooting. so that brings me to weekday work. a blurb from my day (note: if you don't know SQL then this won't make any sense. and if you do know SQL it still won't make sense, but that's for a whole other reason).
select star from table comma table comma when thingie AND thingie AND thingie equal junk. thingie.
mind you it's a little more elaborate than that, but what isn't elaborate these days. am i right? okay well maybe summer isn't that elaborate. and breathing: if you're lucky then breathing isn't elaborate at all. i also hear that toupees aren't very elaborate but i don't have the energy to find out.
oh yeah and ice cream, ice cream TOTALLY isn't elaborate.
but commentary on life doesn't seem to thrill me the way it once did; it was the pedagogical meanderings of euphemism and mental pronunciation that tipped me over and kept the words spilling out of my head like some sort of little teapot without handle or spout.
the lack of thrill might be simple exhaustion. maybe complicated exhaustion. maybe i'm actually happy and i don't need to dive into phraseology as a distraction for life. maybe i'm horribly unfullfilled and the dank depression of life has clogged any and all creative pores.
...right. let's stop for a moment and think about the possibility that i have clogged pores. i mean honestly. think about it. can't think about it? exactly.
but with these things it's an exercise in exaggeration and elaboration. they call it putting a hundred on ten. being a volcano yourself to get a rise out of someone else. make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, get a look or a laugh or a sigh. get them to listen by putting on the show. it might be a freak show, but i hear freaks get to eat lots of ice cream.
'ah you should post more often'
it is the simple statements that compound upon the poundings aside my salty head (see, now i called myself salty so we're even). statements that include, but are not limited to, the following:
"vikas, why do you look so tired?"
"vikas, why are you eating so much ice cream?"
"vikas, how did you manage to bite your own tongue without actually eating anything?"
"vikas, you're a prideful, pedantic poseur. a pathetic palindrome of paltry, pasty penances. the same forwards and backwards without being any more interesting."
"vikas, you need a haircut."
and for your information, that tongue thing? never happened. no, not that tongue thing, the other tongue thing. the tongue thing three paragraphs up. up, up, wait no too fa...yeah, that one.
and now that the weird simple-statements-that-compound-the-salty-whatever thing is boring me, we move on.
ahem.
it's almost foreign, typing for myself again. the passing of january took with it the last of the real keyboard titterings. did i just type titterings? i mean come on, honestly. typing and typing and diving into code, emails and emails and shooting calendars and speeding my palms over a sea of plastic keys. filming became winter's final coat of snow, looking very nice from a distance and feeling great when you've got a fever. but a layer over the world that you would feel differently about if it became permanent. except without all that drama i put into it just now.
it's more like i'm glad to be all the things i am with this film. calling me a producer and a writer and an actor and an entrepeneur and all the other shiny little gold labels that i've been given over the past six months doesn't impart the particulars of each job. there is difficulty and ease and a hundred other shades. sometimes i sound like i'm complaining, sometimes like i'm proud.
most times i sound like a damn fool.
but you get past trying to do it all and knowing it all and having more pies than you can put fingers in. you get past the point of being a perfectionist and you start being a realist. or a humanist. whatever the word is for knowing when to quit and knowing when to flick off the laws of life.
and i just saw a jetta commercial that ended in a car crash. caught you by suprise, didn't preach and didn't say a thing. just kinda happened, laugh laugh har har BANG. way to go, jetta commercial. way to go.
but the next few days are waiting for the final location, the last three weekends of shooting. so that brings me to weekday work. a blurb from my day (note: if you don't know SQL then this won't make any sense. and if you do know SQL it still won't make sense, but that's for a whole other reason).
select star from table comma table comma when thingie AND thingie AND thingie equal junk. thingie.
mind you it's a little more elaborate than that, but what isn't elaborate these days. am i right? okay well maybe summer isn't that elaborate. and breathing: if you're lucky then breathing isn't elaborate at all. i also hear that toupees aren't very elaborate but i don't have the energy to find out.
oh yeah and ice cream, ice cream TOTALLY isn't elaborate.
but commentary on life doesn't seem to thrill me the way it once did; it was the pedagogical meanderings of euphemism and mental pronunciation that tipped me over and kept the words spilling out of my head like some sort of little teapot without handle or spout.
the lack of thrill might be simple exhaustion. maybe complicated exhaustion. maybe i'm actually happy and i don't need to dive into phraseology as a distraction for life. maybe i'm horribly unfullfilled and the dank depression of life has clogged any and all creative pores.
...right. let's stop for a moment and think about the possibility that i have clogged pores. i mean honestly. think about it. can't think about it? exactly.
but with these things it's an exercise in exaggeration and elaboration. they call it putting a hundred on ten. being a volcano yourself to get a rise out of someone else. make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, get a look or a laugh or a sigh. get them to listen by putting on the show. it might be a freak show, but i hear freaks get to eat lots of ice cream.
posted by Mister Vikas at 10:16 PM
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