Micro-blogging - etc.

Another week of not writing the unwritten, not backpacking the wild, not changing careers, not learning a language, not rocking the boat. But filter coffee was perfect, new plans were hatched, there was love and fresh air. What's my tune, then?


Reading, eating, sleeping. No racquetball. More eating and sleeping. So hectic there's not enough time for TV. Phooey to all the weekend over-achievers ... family's on vacation and I'm being the slacker God always meant for me to be.

I felt sublime touch at racquetball earlier this evening. With racquets, ralleys, and righteousness, it mimics tennis (it's winter in Chicago for God's sake and yes, too cheap to pay for indoor tennis). So - my infinitesimal homage to the Man and his game as we wait to be enthralled again by Federer.


I'm looking for a 2010 metaphor and surely its the Year of the Sloth so far. That's not in the 12 animal signs from Chinese Zodiac but also they did not get my last couple of years right - should have been the years of the ram and not the rat. In the meantime, God, its nice to have a life.


After seeing other dads of a certain (elder) age at sport, musings on (im)mortality from a 4 yr old: '"Appula, I want you to be always 35 yrs." Coo, enjoyed that:) Ouch, kids do say the darnedest things.


Indian independence day is close to what one could call a 'universal' independence day - due in large part on the means [tenets of the freedom movement] and in some part on the ends [progress since].


If movies also engaged our sense of smell - imagine stench of burning rubber in BOMBAY, the heady smell of books during a class in DEAD POETS SOCIETY, the sweat and grit in ERIN BROCKOVICH, or the extravagant food in MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING. What would it be for you?


Grandma said you can never turn back the clock and so a day like this brings such cheap thrill. But between changing time on the microwave, wall clocks, and watches, there was no time for anything past due. RIP Grandma, life is just as it should be.


I can't always "walk the talk" - sometimes the terrain is synthetic, the shoes are not rugged enough, the stop watch is not swiss. And I'm human. We live in exciting times maybe but I'll settle for less-than-a-revolution sometimes.


Drop, reach, lob, scamper, jerk, pop, faah#@!%&. While a sports-injury at this age has a certain cheap-macho thrill to it, sad if it prematurely ends tennis and cricket for the season. Granny, is there a Hindu god of sports you can appease?