where winds talk...

Location: Guadalupe Mountains - 4:30 am, Thursday, 24th November.

I am sure u've heard the following joke on Sherlock Holmes - Mr.Holmes and Dr. Watson on a campsite, both are lying on the ground and staring upwards.
Sherlock: Watson, what do you infer from seeing all the stars in the sky?
Watson: I am not sure... Is it a rare eclipse or a comet or something?
Sherlock: No dear Watson, it is elementary - We have no tent.

That was exactly what happened. Having driven close to 10 hrs, my dear campmates let me in on a little secret. Well, it was going to become obvious anyway. We had forgotten the tent. Yes - it is possible! And to think I was ribbing that guy for forgetting his binoculars!!

I dont know how the planning happened, but it couldv'e well been along these lines:
Going camping? Yes. Coffee filters? check. Extra shoe laces? check. Nailcutters? check. Tent? Hmm... Let see.. No, but who needs a tent anyways, one can't carry everything??? Jokes aside, it turned out that way for the better - sleeping in the open chihuahuan desert was a GREAT experience. Nothing like it!

Lying on the open ground, (on sleeping bags that we had not forgotten) it was phenomenal to hear the primitive sounds of the wind. I want to say "that it was like an intimate exchange between the wind and the land that one felt almost embarrassed to be in the midst of it", but it sounds rather too cheezy.. I'll relegate the thought to the following..

Affairs of the desert
-----------------------

T'is the language of the land
And the Wind that draws its gentle hand
O'er the contours of the lass
Who wears skimpy gowns of grass

"Oohoo" says the silly breeze
And she remains a wicked tease
Their sounds of joy surround the place
I fell asleep in a happy haze

(To my excuse, I wrote this when I was really drowsy.. I am getting drowsier, so I'll add another blog on the same trip a little later...)

Guadalupe mnts - a trip

After a great day of camping at Guadalupe Mountains, (the highest place in Texas) I'm right now at a pretty dead town called Carlsbad (at New Mexico - not the one at Texas). Should get to see the Caverns here tomorrow...

The views at Guadalupe Mountains are unbelievable!

I'll try to get back with a good post on these places in a few days.

Sticking it to a food critic!

Here's a blog where a girl named Jules sticks it to a nytimes food critic Frank Bruni. Quite hilarious!
Rare to see a food critic under attack..

Love you like a bad simile

Similes are like the glue sticks of authors - joining disparate entities, creating mosaics of thought and images; Springing out of nowhere like eternal rivers and carrying the mighty flow of Idea! One should really be as blind as a bat not to appreciate the immortal

"We meet thee, like a pleasant thought" (William W.)

or the

"Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud." (William B.).

It is amidst these giants of similes that little delicate beauties like

"Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever"

spring forth and hold their own...


The following is my humble attempt to recreate the magic of some unforgettable daisies like the

" Pierre and Emily had never met.
They were like two hummingbirds that had never met".

Here is a collection from my own personal garden!:

"My father is like an excellent torniquet, keeping me alive but bloody wound up all over me."

"He settled into his office space like a snake slithering into a rat hole."

"Why were her ears so exquisite, like the question mark at the end of this line?"

"My boss is like a penny - round, small and practically worthless."

"I am like a game of cricket, always mistaken for an insect, but still boring."

"He was attracted to her resplendent beauty like a fly to fresh droppings."

(notice my using "like" like a thousand times in this post? )

The Rise and Fall of Ganguly

There was a prince from Calcutta
Who was known as an offside batter
The short ball he couldnt play
But captained everyday
Until was kicked out and never seen after

Missing titles of Arthur Conan Doyle..

"In a recent clean up operation of their ancestral house at Shinnecock Canal, Southampton, relatives of the long dead Sir Arthur Conan Doyle have discovered some of his unpublished manuscripts that were to become a part of his famed story collection. The family have since donated their valuable find to the local museum, which has released some of the titles that we never had the opportunity to read. The complete stories should be soon available, but till then we will have to remain content in knowing these enticing titles."

"The Smoking Orangutan "

"The Case of the Insouciant Butler"

"The Adventure of Leaky Cistern"

"The Puzzle of the Gelded Mare"

- Associated Press

Vow of the Vanquished

A pale song of the morning light,
A tale of sorrow of the night,
Sunken hopes and shattered pride
Where in me can anger hide?

(to be continued)

Glass Window

Here I am, sitting on a saturday morning, sipping coffee. Nothing productive can ever come out on a saturday morning, especially if you think that you've woken up a tad too early. So, an unfortunate addition to my blog post! By the way, it is 10:00 am now, I think. Far too early to be up on a saturday.

I should probably mention that I have a huge glass door to my balcony, and that is what I stare into, when I sit dazed and lazed in the morn. That is exactly what I am doing now.

I just realized it is very strange to look at swaying trees through a glass door when sitting inside a calm room. It feels so unnatural to see the swinging branches and fluttering leaves without their associated phenomena. No gusts of wind on the face or sounds of swirling air. Pretty much like watching the belugas at the seaworld swim in their watery cages from inside, without getting wet. Incomplete...

Coffee is starting to kick in..Gonna open my door and get some air.