The Accountant

There’s an old joke about a happy man who frequents a bar. Most of the other visitors to the bar are people who are depressed, who come to the bar to drown their sorrows in the tipple of their choice. Naturally, there is much discussion as to what could be the secret of the happy man’s happiness. After much unproductive discussion, the regulars decide to make the bartender ask the happy man what his secret is. The bartender obliges. The happy man is only too happy to oblige as well – he reveals his secret: “Whenever I feel sad, I pay a visit to my accountant.“.

Off again :(

Argh.

Am sitting at home with a running nose, congested lungs, a bad cough and my asthma is threatening to kick in again.

Surprising, how the body throws in the towel when it really has to. Surprising as well, that such occasions almost always happen exactly when you have something important to get done with at work.

Much has happened that I wanted to write about, but I have not yet put my fingers to the keyboard. I think I’ll be back in a week’s time.

Basho

Though thin and weak
The chrysanthemum
Inevitably will bud-

Matsuo Basho

To spout more Basho -

(To write a poem, one must) Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and do not learn. Your poetry issues of its own accord when you and the object have become one – when you have plunged deep enough into the object to see something like a hidden glimmering there. However well-phrased your poetry may be, if your feeling is not natural – if the object and yourself are separate – then your poetry is not true poetry but merely your subjective counterfeit. Submerge yourself into the object until its intrinsic nature becomes apparent, stimulating poetic impulse.”

I wonder, is this not true of any human endeavour?

Back again!

Was on vacation last week, it was an eventful trip.

Visited Pondicherry. Sampled the cuisine at a local “French” restaurant. Made my cousin the first victim of my BSD Evangelism. Went to Tanjavur. Clicked LOTS of snaps. Left the roll in Pondicherry, am waiting for my cousin to courier it to me.

Saw two MASSIVE catfish at a temple tank in GangaiKondaChozhaPuram (quite a mouthful, huh? It means “City of the Chozha (Ruler) Who Conquered the (empire on the banks of the) Ganges”). I’ve never seen catfish that big – they were a full five feet long, at the very least.

Will blog soon :)