office office

i got a new job. its an interesting profile. I "ideate" supposedly. to sell stuff. not really advertising. Its apprently called below the line marketing. we liek to think of ourselves as hyrbid marketers. 'more" than marketing. talk about self esteem issues.

well so far its been interesting. nothing else to say really , all our work is also "confidential" ..basically we are hybrid advertisers cum CIA operatives. we "operate" till the wee hours of morning ( at least hardworking concept developers liek me).. juggling words and ideas trying to trap the unsuspecting "TG" .. yes we also love our acronyms. TG stands for target group to the uninitated. Our puerpose in life is to hook , sell a line and sink this poor TG animal into the abyss that is the "brand". Clients are people from the other side, the ones that created this brand fellow , and whose next 3 generations are all set to benefit from the sinking gooey chocolate mass that surrouds this boy.

and the client servicing team?.. poor bastards is all i can say..

dearest

now hes gone..
and the leaves being a slow wither
gravel turns to dust and sand into concrete

i still feellike i could trace a picture of him
slumping on the boot of the car with a little soft smile
and hands placed awkwardly
not knowing what to dowith themselves

if i had a box i would open it and the instances
of the time we met in bylanes and the time we kissed in sort of silly ways
and of the times we threw stones and laughed at silly noises
and watched the tide wash our feet ...
would pour out into the open road before us

then as i think , you turn around , watch me
teardrops listlessly sitting in my minds eye,
begin to dry under your cotton stare..

meghana

meghana 

rambling

i was called last week to judge a dance competition at a nearby college, not because i had any special qualifications, rather they couldnt find anyone else to do it. They needed soembody young ( 22 - 25 counts as young) and totally jobless in life so myneighbour who is one of the teachers there promptly asked me. I reached prabhodankar thackeray hall at precisely 10 15 am.. there i met the other judge , an older woman around 35 - 38, who is a lawyer, legal consultant and shiv sena worker.. her only qualification in dance is tht she likes it. hmmm... ( *arched eyebrow)

well so anyway this competition starts off , with an opening act by somebody..i forget who exaclty and lemme just say.. how bad the whoel thing was.. without being politcally correct..people it was bad. sorry and all i knwo i shoudl be nice appreciate young peoples hard work and ehtusiasm but sorry it was bad. bottomline. and bad becasue it lacked imagination. at least the senior college program was totally devoid of imagination. everybody came onstage danced to DHOOm mostly it was dhoom and then went away.. soem of the synchronised group dances wwere allight but overall.. sadness.. but of course im no authrity

anyway enough rambling.. i just got back from job interview ..ive been going everyday for soem interview or the other these days.. all good fun . today was at an ad agencu.. hehe .. some tp he made me do .. cathcline and principal idea.. who cares.. noones listening to me!!!!!!

sigh.. gbye

back

now im back after a long hiatus..

wrote this last morning.. called overdosed.

circles open arcs extend , pictures and words and tranformations descend
around me ,lights form contract and seize shapes and humans compose , decompose
i watch , unknowingly fingers touch keys
sustenance dribbles onto my palm
some here some there, bits and peices of papercoins and cards and saved up good sense
and erratic conversations with people i used to know

i see someone s phtographs of a different lifeof a holiday , of a beginning and inbetween phases
coffee is sipped , biscuits are broken and conversation? and conversation trudges along...

overdosing on time, hallucinating about storylines
complete with nothing , replete with space
gorged on the big empty now filled to satiation..

finally

well finally i seem to be getting somewhere with this.. ive just learned that i need to enable comments ..in order for people to comment.. hopefully the things worked now.

testing.. testing.. 123

imposter!

yes well i discovered through accident or by accident.. someone has a blog called- mumuring.blogspot.com and mine is murmering.blogspot.com ( spelling error not onpurpose.. result of skipping the spell check for too long) ..

strange coincidence

number two

its a very bad morning weather wise.. all hot and humid and my palms are getting sweaty as i type..

now that im initiated .. this is from last night

Black frustration
between sips of warm milk and cartoon exhibitionists on tv i let msyelf dream of conversation , shadows in the darkness escapinghand in hand without turning back, of a quiet revolution. but then im stumbling fumbling into my sober reality without the secret madness with only a stark entrance

where songs live on the exterior muscians at the doorstep a band playing up and voices sweetly whining , a piano stumbles on a guitar tries to wrest my attention words float up hoping to entice me as i fumble through with someone elses hands , in someone elses shoes

and i think of all the people like me in this place, people in walking parks , in houses like the morning, and lives like the calm murmer of a heart sleeping
who discuss stories of solitude with coffee cups and wonder without wandering, resisting those foul temptations
screaming through satisfied smiles of black frustration.

meghana

me

hello now im blogging.. i hope.

joyous is me