I watched this movie again on the idiot box yesterday. I loved it the first time around, but this time it only depressed me seeing as how this Jackal man (Bruce Willis) could plan such a meticulous operation, and I couldn’t even write my bloody dissertation. I’ve always thought that I could really hack it as a spy or a top-level assassin, (of course, it wouldn’t be by choice, but circumstances + the kidnapping of a beloved one or some similar pressure would relieve me of my high moral inhibitions and force me to adopt stringent measures in best Hollywood tradition :P) but I guess this movie is conclusive evidence that I can’t 😦

I have every empathy for the anglers who sit in a pond all day long, trying out different bait and lures in order to get a single measly fish. That’s how I feel writing all these blogs with no comments on them except the one I force out of people sitting close by. (Like a fisherman returning home with the only fish in his basket being the one he bought at the supermarket). Perhaps I should choose another patch of water, or cast my net wider. OR USE DYNAMITE TO BLOW THE DAMN FISH OUT OF THE WATER!!

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, and how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, and how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind,
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.
-Bob Dylan

Full lyrics here

There was a good friend of my sister’s, way back when I used to drive my first car (circa 1994), who lived close by and shared a common interest with us of books, chaat (an Indian savoury dish) and Iron Maiden. She was also my sister’s classmate for a while, and they used to go to college on my sas’ grossly under-powered moped, which was the butt of many a joke. Many years later (smartly bringing this narrative back to the present day), I discovered via Yas that she was in America, so I sent her an email. Unfortunately I stored her email address under the nickname that we used to call her by at the time, which wasn’t flattering, although by no means was it meant to be offensive but rather endearing. Guess what happens next. Yes, through some interweb thingy faux pas she discovers this and, to put it mildly, is not amused. Of course, nothing one does can assuage her feelings now, so what does one do?

I saw this French film t’other day. Basically there’s this forty-something called Angele who works with two other younger girls in a beauty salon where everyone is so pretentious and superficial. Angele has troubles of the heart (surprise!) and finds it difficult to commit to a man that her girlfriend would jump at, because (in a French accent please) “Zere eez no such theeng as Lurve. One person always gets hurt”. It ends with snow, them in a clinch, she wearing a ball-gown of Cinderella proportions (which he presented her, because what man would be desirable if he wasn’t financially secure. Oh, and of course, he’s a sculptor. Don’t they have decent jobs in France, or is everybody un pain-in-the-effing artiste?) and sparkles raining down on them from above where his ex-girlfriend has just shot out the shop’s neon sign. Awwww, bless!

I see the discovery of a tenth planet, temporarily called 2003 UB313, has gone remarkably unremarked upon. It is 97 times further from the Sun than Earth, bigger than Pluto, and what would you like to call it?
New Scientist also tells us that the risk of schizophrenia more than doubles in individuals who suffered famine in childhood. On a lighter note, the data was gathered from the “Wuhu” region of China. Maybe it’s not a coincidence.