images & cheerful insanity

Have you seen this beautiful short film? (little terrorist – directed by Ashvin Kumar) Thanks to CD for the google link. Though as the link says, I doubt if the film is the winner of academy award actually...

Also, Herbert is a must see movie; get it in any DVD store.

Anyone loves the fripping sound? Check out The Cheerful Insanity Of Giles,Giles & Fripp. Well, I have uploaded the music here for you guys, if needed :). Over 130 MB of dl, so be aware!

Chronicle of Fevers, Delirium and *NO* Discovery

Disclaimer - This is a damn lighthearted post about *fever*, any serious reader can consult this.

I was a natural and always was/is a weak boy. And above that guess what, I can vividly recollect countless pleasant (!) familiarities of being *down with fever*. Primary school days (and why mostly in summer holidays and in handsome monsoon of Calcutta?), come fever in late night in a wink and I could surmise with a sheepish smile of getting a few days break from the school. What is healthier than relaxing in daytime on bed, listening MJ, reading phantom comics, discovering stories of feluda with the adventurous tintin? A stipulated body aching, pulling the bed sheet onto you (and if the fever is little rushing, the bed sheet is replaced by a comforter), someone putting cold waters on the head, you are lying with closed eyes, listening the humble breathes of the slower ceiling fan and replacing feluda in Sonar Kella by yourself?

A very unlike me, I always used to talk and sing (!) a lot while being *down with fever*. And this comes so naturally…makes me wonder. Sitting in my balcony in a settling evening with covers, sipping tea, a feverish and confused mind, watching a tired one getting back home.. I used to feel there is *someone* standing with two legs on my shoulders and in a frenzy watching the whole earth (or was all due to delirium?) After getting a modest seniority in life, I derived that I have a tendency of getting allergic to *dust* (brotherhood of Cal) and *cold*. So savoring a taste of the first rain drop, walking on a rainy evening without headgear, ASAP switching to AC coveted room (after being out in a hot wet afternoon in month of june) were all strictly NO-NO business in my days. But anyway, as I said before, I cherished the pleasant familiarities.. .so I tried out all of them! After all, bunking offices in a week day is/was always priceless! The feluda was little phase shifted by Lem’s Solaris, WHAM was replaced by American Beauty (and the feverish Morrison yelling – LA Womaaaaannnnn)..but MHO…I absolutely loved the feeling of pulling the bedsheet once again over me…resting…

This alien land made so many changes, resting been replaced by rusting, and age is catching up such fast I can’t reckon…it is irregular but I started disliking of being *down*..

Is it because the predetermined time is such limited?

Random Pick - Stairway to Watchtower (Moe. & Keller)

Grass n Blue n Phish-net

Saw Yonder Mountain String Band on last Thursday. It was my first time experience with the band (as they said – lots of blue without the grass!) and it went pretty pretty well :). I never saw such an interesting line up (banjo, acoustic guitar, mandolin, bass) and the kids know to jam..jerry jerry hard.
Some of their stuffs – think for yourself (a beatles tribute), lonesome fiddle blues (a must one from earlier SCI shows) and it takes a lot to...

Also, my latest *listening now* series contains this show. I feel Phish is also going through a same track of Dead; that is officially releasing their all first-class shows (Phish’s picks?), whatever this is a must buy for all caught in the Phish-net.

Check out - auld lang syne > weekapaug groove & the rocking encore of johnny b. goode :)












I am down with fever for last few days :((

64...

Jerry, my friend,
you've done it again,
even in your silence
the familiar pressure
comes to bear, demanding
I pull words from the air
with only this morning
and part of the afternoon
to compose an ode worthy
of one so particular
about every turn of phrase,
demanding it hit home
in a thousand ways
before making it his own,
and this I can't do alone.
Now that the singer is gone,
where shall I go for the song?

Without your melody and tase
to lend an attitude of grace
a lyric is an orphan thing,
a hive with neither honey's taste
nor power to truly sting.

What choice have I but to dare and
call your muse who thought to rest
out of the thin blue air
that out of the field of shared time,
a line or two might chance to shine --

As ever when we called,
in hope if not in words,
the muse descends.

How should she desert us now?
Scars of battle on her brow,
bedraggled feathers on her wings,
and yet she sings, she sings!

May she bear thee to thy rest,
the ancient bower of flowers
beyond the solitude of days,
the tyranny of hours--
the wreath of shining laurel lie
upon your shaggy head
bestowing power to play the lyre
to legions of the dead

If some part of that music
is heard in deepest dream,
or on some breeze of Summer
a snatch of golden theme,
we'll know you live inside us
with love that never parts
our good old Jack O'Diamonds
become the King of Hearts.

I feel your silent laughter
at sentiments so bold
that dare to step across the line
to tell what must be told,
so I'll just say I love you,
which I never said before
and let it go at that old friend
the rest you may ignore.

~Robert Hunter

Walking Blues, Lazy River Road, Bird Song (09/24/1994)
Download this sweet show from here.

ps - a nice reading!