The Strain

I had the scariest nightmare last night.

My dreams are normally quite awesome. Not exactly the way her sweet dreams are, but good fun. Even the slightly bad ones get nasty only to the extent of me missing an exam (yeah, I still have those ones) or losing a grade because of having low attendance.

But, this one was a proper nightmare. Where I actually woke up completely frightened and was spooked enough to not go back to sleep for a fairly long time.

I sleep very lightly and even the least bit of sound makes me wake up. Because of my sinus problems, I snore on some occasions if I am sleeping on my back (I always have to sleep sideways) and end up waking myself with the noise of my snoring. Yeah, it sounds funny even to me, but true.

So, last night I woke up partly because I was really frightened, but also because I could hear myself moan in sleep. That bad. And I could feel the physical pain I had experienced in the nightmare even after waking up.

What probably led to this rare occurrence was the fact that I had gone to bed reading the new book jointly authored by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan - The Strain. It's a fast-paced book, not very different from most other horror/thriller works of fiction, but this somehow got under my skin. And I would like to believe that it's not easy to do that.

On a (hopefully) unrelated note, I'll be in Bangkok for the next 3-4 days. If any of you are also going to be there by some interesting twist of fate, mail me and we could meet up. Would probably need some break anyway from all the presentations.

TOW I Crib Some More

I am typing with one hand again. But that's because I have a particularly gooey piece of chikki in my left hand. Had gone with my parents to Lonavala-Khandala a few weeks back, and all the chikki we bought had been rotting in my fridge. It still tastes awesome.

I am sorry for that fingers stunt. I was getting bored one fine evening, had just watched No Smoking for the fourth time, and this felt like a good idea. Thanks to everyone who bothered to comment, write to me or call. Apologies for being such a moron. And will try not to crack such 'jokes' again.

***********Warning - Serious Crib Alert************

I have been terribly low for the last few days, which has sort of been the general mood actually for most of the last few months. I know it's very boring reading someone crib like this but, well, at least I am not cribbing while talking to you on the phone! I am not exactly sure why I am not in a good or even normal mood, not sure whether there is a reason at all, but it is the way it is.

The fact that I am not exactly in love with my job is very clear to anyone who reads my posts. But it is a genuinely nice firm to work for, and I am not sure I won't regret missing out the chance of sticking around and seeing this firm grow if I leave soon. And there are quite a few days when I enjoy the work I do on that particular day. I feel satisfied coming home tired, having simple food, watching a couple of TV shows, chatting a bit with one or two people, and then lying down with a novel and falling asleep in a few minutes. I particularly love the falling asleep easily bit. Probably for the first time in my life, for an extended period, I have not had problem in falling asleep.

But then there are days when I have this crazy, painful feeling that I am wasting time. I don't have any liabilities, my dad's in a good job and has got a fair amount of time before retirement, and my parents have saved a decent amount of money, my sister's got a job. I am healthy, with no illness. I don't even have a pet animal that could be dependent on me.

I still can't find the courage to experiment. And it's killing me. Or at least making me crazy.

I have been shutting people out with my craziness. I didn't have too many friends to begin with, but have been deliberately trying to lose the ones I did. I said some very hurtful things to a cousin I considered one of my best friends, and we haven't spoken for months now. I haven't called up some of my friends whom I used to talk with every few weeks. And I think was not very hospitable when one such close friend stayed over at my place for a weekend. And over the last few days I have come perilously close to losing the friend I value the most.

I can make things better. But then again, I can't.

Writing this here is just a way to see things better, as crazy as it may sound.

It's also crazy how much 'I' my posts are about. The rare moments when I give my self-centered self a break and look at others, I realize that others have got problems too. Real problems actually. But one's own problems, even if imagined, obviously hurt more.

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Added later: Maybe it's just a case of not getting enough sex.

fingers

i lost 2 fingers of my left hand yesterday in an accident. hurts like hell, and it is painful typing with one hand, so forgive the lack of caps. will be back with the story once the painkillers wear off completely.

You Do Get Jews In A Bar

Christoph Waltz, as SS Colonel Hans Landa, bites into his role with such delight and has so much fun chewing it that it's difficult for me to be able to write about anything else from Inglourious Basterds. Will have to watch it again sometime soon.

I saw the film last night, at a preview show, which should qualify as first-day first-show. Occasions like these when your expectations are met, and even exceeded, are rare, and worth cherishing. Tarantino's back in true form after an also-ran called Death Proof and aren't we fortunate for that!

They didn't show any trailers at the beginning of the movie at the multiplex I saw Basterds at. Which was good in hindsight, because it might have got me in the wrong mood for the beginning of the film. The film is told in Chapters, similar to Kill Bill, and the first one sets the mood brilliantly. Landa has a long and cheerful conversation with a peasant Frenchman, in which he also explains in delightful detail why a Jew is like a rat (reminded me of Maus), drinks some milk, and smokes the most interesting pipe I have seen, and one understands completely when the peasant, who is easily twice the size of the Colonel, starts crying at the end of it. You would not want to run into Landa in real life.

Unless, of course, if you are a Basterd.

After pages and reels of having seen those bastard Nazis taking it out on the poor Jews, it's the Basterd Jews turn to scalp their oppressors, literally. Or, in case of Eli Roth's Bear Jew, have a few shots at their heads with a baseball bat.

But, the title of the film is actually quite misleading. Even though it's fun seeing the Basterds having fun at the expense of the poor Nazis (that adjective isn't used with that noun that often), this film is also about a parallel story of a girl who lived to take revenge. She gets equal footage, if not more, as Pitt, and very deservingly so.

The climax, where multiple strands come together, is so unexpected and so relieving that the few moments in the film earlier that felt like a drag seem completely worth the patience.

Tarantino's trademark long conversational scenes ending in chaos or anti-climactic non-action are still there, and have gotten better in some cases. The bar scene with the actress and three of the Basterds is one of the most classic ones I have seen. And the first scene in the film is anyway beyond comparison.

Pitt has done better roles than this and I didn't like him all that much. His drawl actually got very irritating at times. The rest of the cast, an assortment of nationalities, is great, as they are expected to be in a Tarantino film.

I had never seen a Tarantino film on the big screen before this, and it's completely my loss. His use of music is legendary, but I hadn't realized how subtly it creates the atmosphere for just the right reaction from the audience till I saw this film. Even the camera angles are so much more effective on the big screen. It is like the big screen, or even the Dolby surround sound, was invented for Tarantino.

I already feel like going back to watching Landa again tonight.