The Big Three O

March 23, 2009 1:18 AM

The voice was the same. Neither inflection nor emotion of any kind. Not cold but a bit detached. “You'll be 30 in a few months. It's coming, you know. The end. What will you do?” Not taunting nor mocking but definitely interested. I hung up when she ran out of questions on the POA to combat my impending doom. This had been happening for a while now. More than a year in fact.

I don't really know. I never thought to question it and even now, this constant talk of my impending demise on reaching the age of 30 doesn't seem like enough reason to ignore. Women can be dangerous in my experience and also harbingers of doom but seldom have I viewed their lot as prophets of destruction.

I went about my life. Generally peaceful, mostly happy. The calls still came. In their own random regularity. I'd ramble about this and that and then she'd talk to me about the end. The Big Three O she called it.

“What are you going to do? It'll all end no?”

May 5, 2009 11:17 AM

I had that dream again last night. I'm stuck, knee deep in thick black ooze and I can't move. For some reason my upper body is as stuck as my legs are. I can't even wave my arms around. The swamp seems to want me. To not let me go. I close my eyes and tell myself I'm dreaming. I pinch myself; I slap myself across the face. I show no mercy, I’m still stuck here. I know this is a dream but I cannot wake up. The trees around me are moving in, closer and closer. The swap gets thicker and I can feel the ooze slipping and sliding between my toes. It is a living breathing swamp...

Feels that way at any rate. It was only the phone call that woke me up. No pre-amble, no polite conversation. "6 months to go GK. What are you going to do? It'll all end no?"

I was thankful for the phone call. It meant an end to the dream. It meant another day of working with 4 hours of sleep to back me up but it was better than sleeping to dream that dream again. It makes my skin crawl and my heart beat slower. I have come to dread the thought of sleep thanks to that fucking dream, the ooze that curls around my legs like a snake and the swamp that threatens to swallow me into its sludge. The dream started on the night of my last entry here Dear Diary. Complete in its form, like it simply dropped into my mind and now has nowhere else to go. I sleep, I'm stuck in the swamp and then the phone call rescues me. Every night, without fail. I know I should just wait for the phone call to escape the swamp but I can't wait that long. It's almost like she knows where I am. It's almost like she's waiting for me to start quivering and whimpering before she deigns to rescue me. I know that's rubbish and it's probably just a coincidence but every day for the last 44 days doesn't really seem like a coincidence. It feels like a plan.

I'm unable to come up with the answers to my life anymore. There used to be a time when I knew all the answers. When GK had simple solutions to complex questions. Today, I don't even know the questions. It's like this dream and that fucking phone call are turning my life upside down but I'm not sure which way is up and which way is down. Sideways? Don't even get me started on sideways. My mom says I have no direction and for once I'm inclined to agree.

gk's dirty dozen

This post was largely inspired by a similar post on a friend's blog. A lot of thought went into it and picking only 12 beautiful women was incredibly hard. But worry not dear diary, you'll always be my number one woman even if I don;t show my face around these parts very often. You know that, don't you? You'll always be my number one woman.

Right at the top, Monica Bellucci is my own personal goddess. I would build a shrine in her name and worship her if I was from Andhra Pradesh but I'm not so I'll be content with this blog post instead.



Barbara Bouchet is simply stunning. The ability to make you melt in your shoes with a careless glance whether in Don't Torture a Duckling or Milan Calibre 9. Just an absolute beauty.



Candice Bergen is still active on TV with Boston Legal but it was the 70s and movies like The Hunting Party and even Gandhi a little later on.



Isabella Rosellini first came to my attention in the 90s comedy Death Becomes Her with Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn. She put both those beautiful women in the shade in her 5 minute role and she's been a favourite ever since. Blue Velvet dear diary, Blue Velvet.


Spending most of her career in sleazy nasty '70s Euro-exploitation did not nothing to dampen Christina Lindberg's effervescence. Just one hell of a hottie.


Another exploitation super heroine but a little bit different. She made her name starring in 70s Jap exploitation movies with the Female Prisoner 701: Scorpion and Stray Cat Rock: Sex Hunter movies before exploring the world of J-pop. Meiko Kaji is just majestic.



Michelle Pfeiffer as catwoman, Michelle Pfeiffer in Married to the Mob, Michelle Pfeiffer in anything at all....


When I was maybe 7 or 8 years old, I saw this movie called 100 Rifles. It was one of dad's favourites then and it took me a while to figure out why.... Raquel Welch as a gun toting cowgirl. Westerns don't get hotter than this although Welch did.


Natalie Portman might seem like an unusual entrant to this list Dear Diary but she's not. She is just as much a natural beauty as any of the other women listed here. Another stunner whether she's on SNL, Leon or V for Vendetta (although that Brit accent wasn't too happening).


Sylvia Kristel. when I first saw Emanuelle I couldn't take my eyes off her. Beautiful with a waif like delicate quality to her that is just simply unique. What else to say except that she's another stunner.



Soledad Miranda was Jess Franco's muse and honestly it's not hard to see why. A pox on terrible drivers as her death robbed me off a few more films. In case of any doubt, dear diary, track down Vampyros Lesbos and watch just the opening scene. An unapologetic, erotically charged trip.



Nastassja Kinski is another dove like woman. Like if you held her too hard she might break. Beautiful, delicate and absolutely worthy of worship.



So that's that, Dear Diary. I have half a mind to post a few videos too but I figure that might be overkill no? Anyway, I'll leave you in their august company.

Places to be, people to meet.

Ooty

Ooty was good. The walk on Saturday was the longest in recent memory and the descent into wet clay the most exciting. The food was consistently bad but the company was consistently entertaining.

The International Youth Hostel turned out to be terrible. The rooms were dimly lit with bunk beds and no ventilation. The promised bonfire in the garden proved to be insufficient incentive for us to stay there and so after some lunch, much deliberation and fretting and fuming (which I slept through) we reached Moti Manor. Decent enough for the money we were paying.

Friday evening is where memory's playing a bit of a bastard. I had a terrible headache and for some reason didn't take a tablet. Basically i think everyone got drunk and went to bed. I got up a bit later and threw up. Three times.

Luckily by morning, the headache was gone and coffee had arrived. Terrible coffee. All over Ooty, just terrible coffee and tea. Why? It's a bloody tourist destination and they can;t get their fucking tea and coffee right? WTF! Also, it looks like every single government official in Tamil Nadu is out to fleece the tourist. The demands for ten rupees and fifty rupees seemed unending.

Day 2 was pretty much it. The definition of perfect. Morning coffee was fuck all but it didn't stop me from having two cups. We went to yet another fuck all restaurant for breakfast, ate bread omlette because it was the only breakfast food available and there were simply no sausages and bacon to be had. Who would have thought huh? A former destination of fat British bastards and sixty years after they've gone there's no sign of bacon and sausages and eggs for breakfast. Anyway, the omlette was all right and breakfast was done.

So anyway, Saturday morning we hit the lake and managed to find a half way secluded spot on the banks. It was awesome. The weather was perfect, the grass was green, there were ready mixes galore, wild litchis and all round good cheer and bonhomie.

After the lake and another shitty lunch in Hyderabad Biryani (Empire's very poor and very distant cousin) we set off once again. This time the mission was to find another place that was devoid of all human life. The Panaman mentioned a near mythical place called 7^th mile (probably

from the dark recesses of his childhood memory) and off we went looking. I'm not sure where we ended finally. A walk through the Hindustan Photo Films employee quarters (Indunagar) led us to this unbelievable place.

I know Ooty's filled with tourists and honeymooners and locals out to make a quick buck but the area still has some absolutely beautiful places. You just have to make the effort to look for it. Anyway, look at the pics and feel the splendor of this land. It was a long walk though and at times it became a bit of a trek but we climbed up a hill, came down a mountain, survived close encounters with some really wet clay and finally came to this place that was deemed perfect to sit and rest and recharge batteries. A plain grassy field stretched out before us with horses grazing, a cool breeze blowing and this thick pine tree forest beyond the plains. It was quite awesome.

It was a miracle that the weary travelers were still on their feet by the time they got back to the hotel and there really was only thing left to do on their last night in Ooty. Open that bottle and start drinking.

….we just slept but.

They were six and they were brave

Singular mission, no world to save

Search for the perfect holiday

That was their only aim.

To Ooty they set off, the hills were happening

Escaping the city, always a good thing

2 nights and 3 days the perfect vacation

Moti Manor was our final destination

The lake was great, the grass was green

The litchis were the reddest I'd ever seen

The Panaman and Keitho went fishing

Caught a few hats, and other dirty things

The food in Ooty deserves a stanza

Uniformly fuck all, even Bob's is better

Coffee and Tea, they taste the same

Our Biryanis and Burjis were utterly lame.

The 7^th mile was pretty funky

Long fucking walk but all was well

Didn't want to come back and be a desk monkey

I tell you! This holiday was swell.