Why gingerbreadman?

Sometimes someone who has not something better to do simply summons my attention to the fact that he has no understanding of why anyone would use a word like gingerbreadman as his alias. And I usually reply as I do now:
Because "ginger bread man" and "gingerbread man" were already taken.
:D


O.K.

Now, when the part where i try to humor you is over, I will try to explain my fascination of names of near obscure fairy tale creatures.

For example Rumpelstiltskin (or Rumpelstilzchen for you German purists). The poor chap decides to take the first babe of a daughter of a very vain miller on whose outrageous claims a very greedy king decides to lock up the daughter. And the rest of the story can be read from the Grimm's book. But what i felt was wrong was
1) The girl getting it for her father's vanity.
2) The king's outrageous greed.

and is if I hadn't already mentioned the above two enough, the fact that they ended up living a happily ever after.

But the one felt wronged the most was Rumpelstiltskin. He spares the hopeless girl a stupid death and dies one which is remarkably more so. But was he the villain?

That's where I think the new guys misinterpret the old guys. They never said he was the big bad wolf out after li'll red ridin' hood. They never said he was the villain. They never expected a horror movie to be made in his name. They, probably in all certainty (or so i may assume) never expected a thing like movies.

All the people living their happily ever-afters were the real villains, if I subscribe to the morals today's world is trying to teach me. And just because he was a handsome king and she a beautiful maiden doesn't give them the right to destroy the life of a hideous little talented man.

But in all sincerity, I'd still like to see a fair couple on-screen.

But that's just me, right?

As far as gingerbreadman goes, well he gives the best outlook on me: an escapist.
:)

Honestly. I have no intentions of infringing in anyone's copyrights or whatever, just this one message.

This is my small homage to probably the best manga and the most likeable (and the most real) characters I've ever seen.

Maison Ikkoku
(pronounced Mezon Ikkoku for those purists out there :) )

If you don't fall in love with Rumiko Takahashi's work by the end of this, ahh... you have my sympathy.

An explanation.

Everything needs an explanation.

An explanation to why it happens, who or what causes it, what will its consequence(s) be, why it should be paid attention to, and so on.

I would like to believe that Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle was Nature's method of telling us that there is no need to play God.
Because God needs an explanation.

That's why scientists are more powerful than God.
You tell me this is written in this Holy Book and that-one predicts that, I would not believe it.
But you tell me that this University published a report that that's going to happen and that Group of Scientists affirmed it in a Peer review, I will probably take it to be true, word for word.

But I am amazed everyday of every month of every year I've lived to find out that nothing is certain. The Science of yesterday is the joke of today; the mysticism of a thousand years ago is the science of today and probably the scientists of today will be the clergy of tomorrow.

What I still find a constant amongst all of this is that humanity still survives and will hopefully do so for a couple of hundred years at least.

I was always fascinated when the wiser men said: "Change is the only constant."
And every time I open the History books or read the newspaper, a small part of me wants to believe that it isn't Deja-vu.
But the larger part knows it.
:)

The Question...

The question that has been bugging me for the last week, given the fact that I stayed back in near isolation from Human contact for many a days (O.K., not that long), and finally managed to figure out what I did not want to do, is that who is the one more likely to be condemned for his actions:
The one who knows what he doesn't want to do, or the one who accepts he is a hypocrite and would rather like to try his hand at whatever opportunity he gets.

Three things belonging to the week gone by are worth remembering.

1) I did not apply for nor got through BAR-CAP.
2) I am mentally stable, except for the incident where I imagined I saw a dog while I generally remember seeing Human faces.
3) Aqualung makes good songs.

The rest was wishful thinking.

“A critic is someone who never actually goes to the battle, yet who afterwards comes out shooting the wounded”

That's not exactly one of my most favourite quotes, but it's the best from the kitty of Tyne Daly. Gives a nice perspective on things.
Now I'm writing this utterly "sell out" piece of article (i'd promised myself only third person stories... ah well, here's my Metallica moment) in reply of a chat I had with a friend of mine whom I'll nickname Sushi. Now this Sushi fellow decides one fine evening (when finally I had the oppurtunity to turn on the net and download...(ahem) 'stuff'(hehe)) to inform me that the 15 minutes he spent reading my utterly crap blog were proof enough to deter him from ever doing it again.
Now there's this 'doha' by Kabir (or Rahim... I really don't know a third person in this field of expertise) which says, and rather wittily at that, that it's good to have a critic in your backyard (for some obnoxious reason), keeps you on your toes. Paying homage to the simple brilliance of that(those) extrordinary seer(s), I'm but baffled by the uncanny yet straightforward remark by Sushi which rubbished my blog of crap in the time-spans of blinks.
Although I do realise that my blogs aren't really out there with those who have better understandings of the ways of mankind and shakespeare, but all I tried to do was explain was that blogging gave me freedom to write what i wanted, and I do not seek to ask anyone to read it ((cough)...hypo(ahem)crisy...). And of all things, I'm happy for one thing above all else...
Sushi, you're a true pal, readin it and then givin' feedback...who'd take the pain?
But I guess his sense of eagerness to reduce me to shreds (as I perceived it for a brief duration of time when all that i got for a reply to any statement or question i made was "crap..crap...crap, tujhe matlab?"
) was emanating from a different source of pain, or one arising out when one's ego is hurt for some reason.

This is for Sushi, if he ever reads it again...
Dude, it was in good spirit, It's swell that you proved that you weren't above the rest of us, rather a step ahead, and always.
Godspeed.

Bouquets and Brickbats are Welcome.

A bird's view 1

Life is simple, really, as long as you aren’t a human.

Or it was, till these humans came into our lives.

And then, it became a whole new ball-game, or at least the view from this floodlight seems to be so.

Hi, I’m a bird. Now you may ask ‘Which bird?’ in which case you are most likely a

àRodent

à Snake

àHuman

The reason why I categorize you into these three is this:

A) If you are a rodent, then you fear me being an owl or a falcon or an eagle.

B) If you are a snake, you will most likely make a meal out of me if I were to be a sparrow, but at once fear me if I were to be a hawk.

C) If you are a human, which, given the fact that you are reading this, you most likely are, you neither care whether I am a fowl or whether I am a raptor. You would, and I know this for a fact, only be interested in my genus, my family, my species so that I might interest the people who are producing your film or sponsoring your school/museum or simply paying you a fine sum to stuff me with cotton or whatever you stuff our kind with.

You see, I'm not that dumb. And I can manage some smirk, can't I?

See, that’s the first mistakes you humans made.

You thought that having a 1500cc brain meant you’re the smartest lot on this planet.

Well smartness, my dear sirs and madams, does not arise from inventing the wheel or discovering fire. Fine, so you sorted out your transportation problems and your energy crisis only to have crude oil prices topping 100 dollars and a few holes being punched into the ozone layer. ‘So, what?’ you asked 30 years back; the ozone will repair itself and the oceans gonna absorb all the oil and the hurricanes are gonna slow down eventually and the green peace nut cases are gonna shut up and we can mint all the Dollar bills and we can buy all the oil in the world and make all the commercials and movies and sell all the walkmans and all the colour televisions and all the cars and jets and guns and bullets and rockets and submarines and migs and F-16s and lives and still end up in a profit.

You underestimate us. You think that the only playing field is the earth and its crust and the ocean and its depths and the mountains and the skies above it. Well, the truth is, that's about it. You ain't got much right now. You can't afford to lose it now, can you?

Save this planet, because right now you just can’t run off to your command starship with your tails betwixt your feet.

When Gaia erupts, she takes the mighty titans, the short-sighted cyclopeses, the visionary zeus and his ilk, and all the mortals along with her.

Oh, of course. I still haven’t answered one question. Which bird am I, you asked, did you not?

Well, I am a night owl.

The Temple of Zeus

“You know what a priest is Hermes? Do you know??? Tell me…do you know???!!!” rumbled his voice.

“No sir” was a timid reply.

“And what about story-tellers, hmmm…?”

“What about them, sir?”

“What about them…!!! You ask me what about them??? YOU ASK ME WHAT ABOUT THEM!!!”

This time, the demure voice was not to be heard.

“If they had their way, they’d make clowns out of us even before we’d have a chance to say apokálypsis!!!”

“Oh…” was the soft reply.

“Oh… OH!!! That’s the best you can come up with!!! Oh…”

The voice thundered with mockery.

Silence

“What I meant sir was that they’ve done it already, haven’t they?”

The voice was timid but meaningful.

The behemoth turned around to face the streaks of light fidgeting about in the gloom. The pillars were occasionally glowing as the streaks approached them, rather in a very disorderly manner. The statues of a bull and a swan among others rested over tufts of cloud like mantle pieces. The sky was embroidered with stars thrown in at regular intervals to resemble the heroes of yesteryears.

“Yes…” lumbered the heavy voice. The moon shone past the colossal silhouette and cast infinitely long shadows of the pillars. Even she didn’t feel her best today.

“Don’t you remember sir, the one meant for the kids? Though I did enjoy my portrayal in…”

The voice was lost as sudden flashes of thunder emerged out of the dark clouds hovering above the colossus’ head.

“Yes…” rumbled the deep voice “and what about that Kratos fellow?”

“Well, eh…”

He was right though. Ares was being kicked around all over the world as if the most devalued stock in a bustling market, and even with the recession, it did mean lunacy. But to tell this to Zeus would probably result in Vulcan popping of his cork for no reason at all. ‘Gosh!’ thought Hermes. ‘I’m even beginning to think like the cartoon Hermes’.

“And the irony of it all! Imagine them, these men, disrespecting my son, Ares- the god of war, and that too when the most widespread occupation of these mortals seems to be war itself.”

Zeus had a point thought Hermes. There was a reason the Spartans liked Ares. Now look at him. Abased into oblivion. Even the guys down in California didn’t spare him. Always being turned into a villain, getting his butt kicked by Xena or Athena or Herakles.

“Herakles…”

“Yes, what about him?” inquired the deep growl.

“Well, doesn’t he seem to be a bit too popular? You know the movies are more about him than us. And he’s always a good guy.”

“Hmmm…” sighed the voice. Suddenly there seemed to be a quality of ancientness lurking in it, a sense of tiredness. “The boy deserved it. Look at the amount of pain those men in the past had belted out on him. Twelve labors and then getting him killed by his own wife; it seems he always had it going tough for him. Oh…those ones born out of wedlock; they have it so hard on them.”

Another sigh followed. But Hermes didn’t take particular notice of it. He was busy trying to figure it out. ‘Herakles born out of wedlock? But wasn’t he the son of Zeus and Hera? But what does Zeus mean?’

“Sir, I cannot quite comprehend what you just said.”

“Yes, yes… how would you? It’s hard being a father…”

“No sir, I mean Herakles being born outside of wedlock… I remember him being your and Hera mam’s son. That’s what they showed in the movie Hercules.”

For a moment, Zeus could almost observe the streaks of lightning flashes come to a halt. He could observe doubt on the blurring face of his favourite messenger. He saw naivety.

“I would not blame you son” he spoke in a gentle voice, “for if I were to be depicted in as many comic books and cartoons and commercials as you, I would have a mind as fickle as yours. Really, your question has done more to eradicate my belief in my own existence than any atheist group downstairs. Look how frail your mind has become. It is as if you were a mortal whose destiny was being written down by men rather than having it the other way around. It is as if the gods have lost all their values and men have become gods. With all honesty, I feel more like a mortal today than when the Greek writers made me seduce all the women back then, conjuring up all sorts of animals to fool them into falling for me. And seriously, how did those ones fall for animals, I mean all that was needed was me turning into some handsome stranger. It wasn’t that Hera did not already know about it. But that is not the point, now is it dear messenger. The point is…”

Zeus did not finish his statement. Rather, he could not for his attention was grabbed by noises of scuffling coming from downstairs. Hermes could observe that his gentle face was replaced by a monstrosity.

Zeus’s voice thundered

“Artemis, hide behind the clouds. Heroes and sons, fade out. Hermes, it be best you don’t show up for some time. Now! all of you.”

Apollo broke into the temple panting and puffing.

“Zeus, my Lord, he’s here. And no one can stop him…”

Hermes heard him pant and spill his lungs out while he took cover behind a pillar. The constellations of the heroes had disappeared behind the clouds, as had Artemis in her lunar form. Suddenly there was a great thud as Apollo was suddenly air-borne. The dull thud after that was the one due to his falling back. The dust settled in some time to reveal a bald man with blood in his eyes and the blades of Ares fused into his arms. He was Kratos, for Hermes could recognize the new God of War from his attire.

“Zeus, your promise is due…and your time is up.”

Between the ticks of a clock, for an infinitesimally small time Hermes saw Zeus’s eyes soften. He recognized those eyes. They were the same ones piercing into his face when he had almost veered to a halt, when he had his head bursting with doubts, when Zeus had explained to him that they were the mortals, the ones whose destinies were malleable, and the ones who were a part of the popular culture.

Hermes chuckled to himself.

It was the final level of the PC version of God of War II.

...

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