Song of the Day - Kalvane from Megha

I stumbled upon this gem of a song, quite accidentally, late last night thanks to a comment on a blog discussion on soundtracks (Thanks again, Madan). I'm quite besotted with it and can't stop listening to it over and over again. It is such a swingin' track that is, in a way, unlike anything Ilayaraja has composed before. And yet, when the interludes come in with his stamp all over them, you know it can't be anyone else's handiwork.

I qualified my statement that this song is unlike anything in Ilayaraja's oeuvre because it somehow reminds me of Kurangu Kaiyil Malai from Mumbai Express. What the latter song did with keys and horns, this one does with strings. Both venture further into jazzy territory than filmi songs usually tend to do, and do so with great effect. I must admit that the Mumbai Express song does go a little further than Kalvane does what with that latin flavoured jazz freakout two thirds into the song. But this song holds its own all the same and of course has a charm all its own due to it being a romantic duet. As I commented in the aforementioned blog, it is a smooth, and yet scorching, track.

Ilayaraja's string arrangements have always been his strong suit. And here he uses them to tug at one's heartstrings almost effortlessly. Go on, I dare you to not fall in love with this song.

Play on, ye wordsmiths

I love words. They have a strange power all their own. There's something so very satisfying about reading something that's well written. The topic matters not, just the treatment, if you will.

Take, for instance, nature. It, too, moves me deeply. But, when I read a beautifully described natural scene, the joy in it comes more from the words themselves than the image they paint in my mind as I read them. Maybe this has more to do with me not being a very visually imaginative person (I tried to touch on this before and failed miserably if memory serves me right). I tend to lose interest in long-winded descriptive passages no matter how gorgeous an image they paint, if the words themselves and the way they fit together doesn't strike a cord.

There's this joy and, dare I say, glee I feel when I read a certain style of writing. A mix of archness and keen observation. A certain irreverence combined with a lot of wit. Austen comes to mind right away with such gems as:

Mr. Darcy said very little, and Mr. Hurst nothing at all. The former was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and doubt as to the occasion's justifying her coming so far alone. The latter was thinking only of his breakfast.

We're told hardly anything about Mr. Hurst before this point, but with that incisive last line he suddenly becomes real. It is hard not to grin with mischievous delight when one comes upon that deliciously droll sentence. This is just the first instance that occurred to me because I'd read it again recently. But there are so many others who've written as well. Who still write as well. And I'm jealous of them all. 

No, it's not just envy I feel. It's a sort of hero worship, I suppose. I look up to these wordsmiths. I don't exactly aspire to be like them ever because I don't think I ever could. It's more that I almost feel a kind of personal connection with them that transcends space and time. I feel like I know them. I love them. 

The strange thing is that words aren't my number one source of joy in life. That distinction belongs to music. Music can move me in ways even words cannot. Words make me smile and grin and laugh, but music makes me cry. I relish words like good food - tasty, nourishing, delightful, even sensual. But music is like sex.

And yet, I don't have this sense of connect with musicians. With music, yes, but the musicians themselves personally don't matter to me all that much somehow. Wordsmiths, on the other hand, I adore. You know what they say about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach? I guess, the way to this woman's heart is through them words. 

Well then, for me at least, words be the food of love. So, play on.

Speak now or forever hold my peace?

I'm reading a lot of articles, reviews and such on the internet these days. I mean those published by established news organizations, websites and writers. Which is why I find it somewhat disappointing that I come across as many typos, or more commonly, word omissions as I do. One would think that they would have someone proofread their material before putting it up for all the world to see. Maybe they do and the proofreaders/copy editors miss them as well.

Whatever the reason, my dilemma is what I ought to do about it when I do find mistakes? What's the proper etiquette? Posting a comment pointing out the error seems a bit rude, but I have seen people do that with the preface of "I hate to be that person but.." I would do this as well, if there were other comments on the page and/or the article in question is a recent one. However, some of these articles are somewhat old and have hardly any comments. It seems akin to bumping an old thread on a forum to point out a typo, which is just plain wrong. Except there is a difference between a post on a forum and an article that will be read long after it has been published. 

If I were the author, I would definitely want to be told so I could correct it. Actually, this happened with this very blog. A friend of mine mentioned in an email a silly omission of mine (thanks again, M!)  and I fixed it. She actually said she wanted to comment on it but didn't want to be nitpicky. In this case, being a friend, she was able to tell me in private, but I wouldn't have minded even if she had commented on the blog itself. Though, I guess, given a choice I would probably prefer being told in private. So then is that the way to go? Contact the author/editor in private and respectfully tip them off? Would they appreciate this or find it weird and intrusive? Am I only even thinking of this option  for selfish reasons, i.e., to not make a fool of myself in public? 

I'm totally overthinking this, aren't I? I know this must make it seem like I have a bad case of OCD, but I really don't. I will admit that I do have an uncanny ability to spot the mistakes, bugs, what-have-yous. However, I will have you know that I try and use my powers for good always. Really.

Anyway, I am only thinking about this so much because I respect the authors of these pieces and it pains me to think that someone else will see their slip-ups. Otherwise, I'd just shrug and think a little less about whoever wrote it and move on. Maybe that isn't such an awful fate to befall these writers and I should stop being so touchy on their behalf. I hate being inaccurate more than anything else (case in point: I actually spent a good 15 minutes or more trying to find out if "proper etiquette" was a tautology), so maybe I'm just projecting. 

For the record though, I would definitely appreciate anyone pointing out any errors in my own posts. Also, is "proper etiquette" a tautology? I never found out. :(

I read a movie today

No, really. Read the script of Her. First time I've ever read a screenplay. It was interesting. Sort of like a play, I guess. Except I haven't read many pays either, so it was still a mostly new-ish experience. Since I've already seen the movie, I was able to "see" the scenes in my head, more or less. Wonder how well the script of a movie I haven't seen will translate.

I've never been very good at imagining settings. Whenever I encounter long descriptive passages in books about a place, my instinct is to skim and get to the parts about characters, their motivations, dialog, etc. Reading about a beautiful place doesn't transport me there, while reading about interesting characters almost always engages my imagination completely and puts me in the thick of the narrative. Since it seems like scripts deal more with the latter, I think they'll make for fascinating reading.

Only downside is the spoilers if I ever mean to see the film. Hmm. Maybe I'll pick a movie that I'm not really intending to see. Then if the script really excites me maybe that'll lead me to watching a good movie I would've missed out on otherwise.

Also there are plays aplenty that I haven't read. Maybe that's where I should start...

Anyway, in case you want to check out some of these scripts here is the link.

Lootera

Just got done watching this movie. Stayed up way too late and will probably regret it when I get up in a couple of hours to shovel my driveway and get my ass to work.

But man, what a gorgeous gorgeous film. So beautiful to simply look at even. Poetry on celluloid. And then such earnest performances from the leads. I cried in the end. Even though I knew exactly what was coming. I teared up and felt that lump in my throat once before the end though. When Pakhi turns away during their last conversation. And I very, very rarely cry when watching movies. Well done, Sonakshi and Ranveer. Much respect to the director and the cinematographer as well.

Words aren't useless

Today I want to share a review I read recently - Raja Sen's review of Nebraska.

I heard about this movie around the same time that I heard about Her. Both movies were playing at the little local cinema that shows mostly art house and independent films. I chose to see Her first as its premise appealed to me more and figured I'd watch Nebraska later that same weekend. That wasn't to be. I don't regret that choice at all, obviously.

Now until this point I only had a hazy idea of what Nebraska was about. I knew the performances were almost universally praised and that's basically why I wanted to check it out. Then I started coming across some criticism of the movie for being too American-centric. This gave me pause. Living in the heartland of the US tends to make one tired of hearing/seeing things that are solely from the American perspective. I was left wondering if I really wanted to take the trouble to go see this movie after all.

You must understand that I rarely go to the cinema anyway (I probably see an average of 2-3 films a year in the theater). So to make time for a movie that I would probably not like seemed pointless. I could always watch it on DVD or Netflix later on.

But then something strange happened. I started coming across rave reviews for this movie from Indian critics. Why would it appeal to them if it was all about the American way of life? Well, I guess it could, but so unanimously? I was now second guessing myself. And that's when I read this particular review.

It made me want to go see the movie right away. If the film was half as good as the review, it would be worth it. Even if it wasn't, it would still be worth it as a tribute to the power of those words.

So in a few hours I'm going to try to go watch Nebraska. I say try because, as luck would have it, we've been struck with another winter storm. I am hoping the roads will be clear enough and the weather not too forbidding for me to drive downtown to catch the matinee, which is the only showing of Nebraska today. Fingers crossed. 

Tussination

Okay technically I didn't drink robotussin. It was Nyquil. But same diff. Also strictly speaking I've actually taken less than the recommended dose so I'm not really tripping on this stuff. But my head's spinning all the same.

Been one helluva long day. Went back to work after a week. Did fuck all there. Came back and put together my new TV stand. Bloody thing took me five times as long as the damn manual said it should. Granted I did it single-handedly instead of the minimum of two people that was recommended. Nay, better still, I did it with the added handicap of a particularly frisky kitty jumping around and over and on everything. So go me. My hand is raw as fuck though from all the screwing (tee hee). Really wish I had a power drill (that's what she said).

Less than 6 hours before I have to be up again. Hope the best buy dudes don't call me in like 3 hours to remind me of the scheduled delivery time.

But yay, I can finally watch my criterion blu-rays that I bought 2 years ago and these hindi DVDs I borrowed from the library and Princess Diaries. Woot woot.

I wonder if there really is going to be another winter storm tomorrow er tonight. I hope not. I really want to go check out that silent film festival if possible. I guess I can have my own film festival at home otherwise, but still.

I should probably stop rambling on pointlessly and try to get some sleep. Sleeping is such a drag. Such a waste of time. A third of our lives wasted. What a shame.

Ok goodnight. Let me see if I can add a picture of my handiwork...ta da! :)