sajith: (Default)
People, if you would not be bothered too much, would you mind visiting this set of pictures from Pondicherry? (Sales pitch: You get to see a great deal of colour cast on pictures shot on expired slide film! And puppies! And an almost naked [livejournal.com profile] maxaud!) And, if you are reasonably satisfied after the viewing, would you also mind leaving some standard-issue flickr comments (such as: "great capture", "nice image"; and never: "this sucks!")? That would justify my spending a great deal of money on developing two rolls of expired medium format Kodak Ektachrome E100VS film. Much thanks in advance. Really, I would appreciate that.

puducherry puducherry

puducherry puducherry

(In Bangalore, Prabhu Digital's rate for developing a roll of slide is Rs 500. That would be Rs 750 at G G Welling, but I suspect G G Welling basically sends it to Prabhu and pockets a cool 50% middleman's margin -- that is what they did with another roll of medium format colour negative anyway. No prizes for guessing whom your humble correspondent entrusted with developing his precious chromes. Lesson has been learned the hard way, which would be: wisdom is what happens after the credit card has been swiped.)

Also, have you read Introduction to Poetry? ("I ask them to take a poem / and hold it up to the light / like a color slide". Thanks so much for reminding, Dem.) While digging the Internet for more Billy Collins, I came across this (Walking Across the Atlantic, from "The Apple That Astonished Paris"):

I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach
before stepping onto the first wave.

Soon I am walking across the Atlantic
thinking about Spain,
checking for whales, waterspouts.

I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.
Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface.

But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the fish below,
the bottoms of my feet appearing, disappearing.


Just to say this much: that is what we all ought to do when we go near the seaside. No?
sajith: (Default)
joseph chettan
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

(Robert Frost, "A Time To Talk")
Joseph chettan, good neighbour, good samaritan, and retired employee of Kerala State Electricity Board. Joseph chettan and Leelamma chechi sold off their property and moved elsewhere recently. Consequently the neighbourhood is a far less friendly place now. The new occupants pretty much keep to themselves, rarely ever affording a smile, let alone talk. (Often, I too am guilty of not going up to the stone wall, and being a stone myself, particularly when I'm busy hoeing. I'm sorry about that.)

Elsewhere, Shiv shot Vilasini Amma and told her: "because you can fetch me some comments on flickr."

Us these days, are plain ridiculous, no?
sajith: (Default)
No, not about software. Not yet. (I don't think I am copy-pasting as much code as I ought to yet.) This is poetry appreciation by the dummy, and the dummy believes that there's a point where all fine code and all fine poetry meet for tea breaks.
London Airport

Last night in London Airport
I saw a wooden bin
labelled UNWANTED LITERATURE
IS TO BE PLACED HEREIN.
So I wrote a poem
and popped it in.

-- Christopher Logue
... )

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