Dailies

So it's my birthday today.

Yes, go ahead, I'll wait.


Ok so all I've been getting all day long are text messages and calls going "happy birthday! Oh by the way, did you know Michael Jackson is dead?".

Yes, I know. I'm on the internet for a good 15 hours a day. I'm aware. So stop it already.

Three years ago my uncle was killed in a suicide attack on my birthday. My aunt emails me this morning going "happy bday T. I'll never forget your bday because it was the day Uncle P died"

Gee thanks. Of course my birth isn't a good enough reason to remember it.

Yes, I'm a little annoyed. And I wish all the drama queens would stop with the oh woe is me, MJ is dead exclamations. Shit happens. People die.

That said though, RIP Michael Jackson. You were a strange man, but your music was awesome. I was trying to figure out my favorite song and I was like oh its gotta be Heal the World. But then I realized exactly how many of his songs I really loved. Black and White! Man in the Mirror! Beat it! The Way You Make me Feel! Will You be There!

He kinda was the soundtrack of our youth. What a legend.

I Know This Place

Every year when I come home I tend to get a little nostalgic. It starts somewhere during the descent when I see the coconut trees and temples, just a small sniffle, and then is forgotten while I curse everyone in the immigration line (and I use the word line very loosely) , and then returns on the ride home. Every year I always look forward to that moment when I'll step into my house and see the garden through the french doors. Then I'll wash my hands, find my rubber slippers and head over to my grandmother's house, stopping to say hi to the dogs on the way. Every year it chokes me up a little bit when I have to leave.

My house, as clichéd as it may be, is really my favorite place in the world. It's just far away enough from Colombo to be a fucking hassle getting home after a night out, but also far away enough that when I'm at home, I'm totally disconnected from everything else. Early mornings are beautiful because there is that fresh, dew on grass, flowers and mist smell, and rainy afternoons are delightful because I can lie in bed with a book and watch the rain out the windows. Over the weekend there was a great big thunderstorm, and I was sitting outside on the step under the porch, as I've done so many times before, thinking of this poem I had just watched online. She talks about New Orleans and the hurricane, and I thought, if I had a place, what would it be? This would be it.


i know this place
between the red house and the white
i dreamed of it when i was gone

of the early morning dew on the
green green grass and the
shower of white flowers on the concrete that
turned the air into a banquet of scents

i know this place
i missed it while i was away

missed the dogs lying in the afternoon sun and the
ankle deep water right after the rains and the
concrete slabs with the row of tiny feet imprinted on them
dates
and names

i know this place
it is the place i love
and where i know love

where i slept on a large white bed between two people who
bought me my first books before i could yet read and
his presence would comfort me and
he would tease me endlessly but
his face is now just a memory

i know this place
it is the place i grew up in

where we played hopskotch in large squares drawn on the sand and
sticky palms and wide grins as we ate ripe red mangos and
the tree house where we spent hours making plans in the
araliya tree that has now been cut down

i know this place
it is the place of my life

where blood was shed falling down because we ran too much and
cricket in the garden on Sunday afternoons and
the well where we had baths on long hot days after
which we would troop up the red winding stairs for
the most delicious meal of rice and curry ever cooked

i know this place
it is my heart, my home

where ten children
never in the same place at the same time but of one heart
played and ran and where
friends and family laughed and sang songs and
where our lives were never our own because
everyone knew everything and
we would never have it any other way.

i know this place.
we
know this place.

Body be Better Nao?

The only thing stopping me from putting my head down on my desk and snoozing is that my boss might walk in and fire me. And Pissu's not here to throw things at me and wake me up. It's must be the drugs. In a dastardly act of painful proportions, disease has snuck up on me. It began last week with a tingling of the arm , followed by shooting pains and throbbing nerves. At first the hypochondriac in me was all Carpel Tunnel? nooooo! and started flexing my wrists and wiggling my elbow and in the process, doing even less work than I do on a regular basis. My conversion of abstracts dropped from 50 to a mere 25 a day. All in the name of health, I said. But then, in a flash of comprehension, in a memory of pain once had and lost, I knew, I knew what it was and it was worse (the pain) but also better than the dreaded CT.

So I took myself off to the doctor and he hmmd and aahd endlessly while I watched him patiently and said dude, it's this particular thing, I'm sure of it, and he said well it could be that but it could also be a neurological disorder, why don't I refer you to a neurologist? and I sighed and humored him because I knew he was wrong and I was right and it was this and not that. See you tomorrow, I said, as I left. And what do you know, by midday, the tell tale signs of the thing had appeared and I sighed with exasperation, if only you had listened to me doctor, we could have saved us both some time, and I took myself back to the hospital where he took a look at my arm and said aahh you were right, and I suppressed an eye roll. But, the wise one continues, it could be one of two kinds, why don't you come back tomorrow and we'll see what it is and I nearly lost it, for fucks sake man, I've already told you what it is, just give me some damn medicine, I'm about to pass out from the pain. Asprin, he says wisely. $@!!% says I. And so I return, for the third time, and he says ahh looks like it's this no? You think?, I say, the fight gone out of me. Medicine, please, I beg of you. And finally he writes me the long sought after prescription, and here I am, on the road to recovery.

Funny how I just knew though. I've had this particular thing before, about three years back was the last episode, and I had all but forgotten about it. I remembered how it looked (disgusting, if you're wondering) but not much else, besides the fact that it hurt like a bitch. But the minute the symptoms appeared, the pain along the nerve, the numbness of my hand, my body knew what it was even though my mind had long forgotten. And the doctor kept asking me for details of the previous episode and all I could say was 'I don't know, it was just gross. But its this. I'm positive'.

Needless to say, I am not a fan of illness. In fact I am a raging oppressor of illness. Having been one of those sickly asthmatic children, I have an inexpressible contempt for hospitals, clinics, patients and anything to do with sickness. I eat like a horse, as much for not wanting to be sick as for the love of food, and therefore am as healthy as a horse. I don't take medicine, even asprin, even for cramps of the female variety, unless I'm ready to fall on the floor and scream. I'm a bit stupid that way, but sometimes its just a matter of pride. How much pain can I take. Except for the occasional sniffle, I do not get sick. By some miscalculation, if I do get sick, I focus all my energy on getting well; I drink gallons of samahan and I'll stay in bed and will my body to fight off disease. And I actually literally do that. I'll stay under the covers and picture an epic battle, white blood cells against the demonic forces.

Due to some unfortunate timing, I happened to get sick just before graduation. Isn't it funny how the body just knows? A tickle in my throat and a shiver down my spine and I knew, oh fuck no, the flu is coming! I was full of destructive internal rage. How dare I get sick right before my ceremonies! And there was no time or samahan around to lie in bed and shake off disease. And so I drank. And drank. Green tea, thera flu, you name it, I drank it. Luckily for me, O has a drawer full of medicine for any conceivable illness, so she makes me something to drink and gives me a bunch of pills and I swallow blindly, hoping its not something that'll kill me (she could have got a 4.0 if I died you know, these Russians, you can never tell! <3). All I really wanted was to be able to walk across stage in high heels and not fall down. Through sheer will (and drugs) I held off the flu, in fact, held it off long enough to go out and booze and dance till morning for L's bday/post-grad celebrations.

The body, mine in particular, is an amazing thing.

On a side note, that thing about not drinking while on meds, how true is that really? Because I was boozing all weekend, first on the beach with Pissu, then at SSC last night, and nothing seems to have happened.. Of course, I wasn't purposely trying to tempt fate or anything. I just forgot I was on meds.

Also, I should probably add this because I feel guilty, the doctor was actually very sweet and nice, and it wasn't his fault that I knew what it was and he couldn't diagnose it right off the bat, because the outward symptoms take time to show. In fact, if he had taken my word for it, I would have been very suspicious of his abilities.

waiting

and the little girl waits

for her first touch,
her first look
that slide of finger,
that scrape of palm

and she waits

for the thrill
and the frill
of her dress makes her stumble
for she was looking at him
and not where she was going

and she's still looking at him
and not where she is going

and the little girl waits

for her first roses
her first kiss

not knowing that roses are just flowers
a false sentiment
of red red love

and a kiss is sometimes just a kiss
a press of lips
a touch of tongue
devoid of emotion
absent of feeling

lust

passionate
hot
strong
empty
lust

and she waits

and i wait

and it's killing me, slowly.

Thrilogy - in Retrospect

If you've come here expecting an unbiased, structural breakdown of the show, leave now.

If ever there has been a performance that was a treat for all senses, it was this one. My expectations going into this had built to such great proportions that I was sure I was going to be disappointed; no one could be that good. I was expecting them to deliver a minor miracle to the ears. What I got was so much more.

If ever there has been a band that never fails to thrill me, it's this one. Their sound is so completely their own, their music so elemental and yet so all encompassing, that it reaches right into that part of your mind where thought has no place and you just feel.

Eshantha Peiris was beautiful to watch. Bent low over the keys, his instrument seemed an extension of himself. I could easily spend hours watching him play, he plays with such flair and grace. Pabalu Wijegoonawardene on oriental drums is riveting. He brings in the traditional and primitive, essentially Sri Lankan element to the music that sets this band apart from all the others. Sarani Perera, well I always say too much about him, so I'll leave it at he should just play more solos. In fact, every song should have an extended guitar solo as long as he's playing it. Harshan Gallage as per usual was explosive on drums. His 10 minute solo, 119, was a complex fusion of grooves and tempos that quite literally had my jaw sitting awestruck in my lap. What amazes me the most, apart from the fact that he can keep two to three different rhythms going at the same time, is that he never once drops a beat or loses the timing. Just brilliant. Uvindu Perera always looks like he's having the most fun on stage. I was happy to see him front and center this time, because he usually always looks tucked away in a corner.

They played a variety of songs that emphasized their versatility, from the mind trip that was Nebula to the tranquility of Mirror and I; the soothing calmness of Anna Balan Sanda and the distinctive flamboyance of Raga de Latino; the distinct local beat of Rana Mayura to the absolute sensory orgasm that was Prashasthi.

Every time they play, they keep pushing the boundaries, expanding on what they've already created, so that what you hear is vaguely familiar yet deliciously new at the same time. The addition of the orchestra was a beautiful touch, with the string and percussion sections in particular enhancing and intensifying the music.

Not to say that I didn't have some gripes. The orchestra sounded out of tune and scratchy at times, there was feedback on multiple occasions and the drums were so loud that they completely drowned out the bass. On the plus side, they had some really cool effects like switching the sounds from stage right to left, and the lights and visuals were well done.

The turn out was, as usual, very disappointing. I know the audience is a big part of a performance for any musician and it must have been disheartening to look out on the crowd and see so many empty seats. On a purely selfish and personal level, I can say that I'm happy that a Thriloka gig is not one of those places you come to see and be seen, where a hundred teenage girls are giggling and you have to strain to hear the music over them. I'm glad that their fan base is people like us who really enjoy them and appreciate the music they make. On the other hand though, I wish more people in Sri Lanka were open to new music and supportive of the arts. It's something we need to work on, because even though I'd hate to see these events turn into a mating ground, the guys really deserve to be applauded for their work and have their music reach a larger audience.

Yes, I did take 10gigs worth of video. The uploading process is long and tedious but a few are up here. Thanks to Gehan for showing me how to convert them otherwise it would have taken years. Also, Sach took some fantastic pictures, like the one above. Check em out here.

Thrilogy

Kids, you don't wanna miss this. Go get your tickets and I'll see you on Friday.

Is it sad that I bought 12gigs of memory just so I can tape the whole thing? Don't answer that.

Home

Ok everyone, you can relax and stop with all the emails. I am alive and well, just been languishing in the backwaters of Sri Lanka, eating incessantly, taking multiple showers and wallowing in my despair at not having internet at home. I don't want to talk about it. Good lord, it is HOT. Why did no one warn me? So what have I been upto in the last few weeks? Let me break it down for ya.

There was graduation and a weekend's worth of the obligatory drinking and tomfoolery with the family. I might put up some pictures later, but then again I might not. Depends. And then I left New York. Forever. For a year.

I was in transit in Kuwait and surrounded by Sri Lankans and I realized, my god, growing up in Colombo really is like living in a whole other world. I have nothing in common with these people, nothing to say to them; to the men in tight jeans and LedZep shirts and the women with the gold from their headsshoulderskneesandtoes. And don't even get me started on their in-line conduct.

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Home is nice. Hot, but nice. Colombo, as expected, has not changed post war except that it looks like a small patriotic paraphernalia factory threw up all over the place. There are posters and billboards of Messrs Rajapakse, Rajapakse, Rajapakse and Rajapakse all over the place. The day I got home I was treated to a practice air display for one of the five zillion ceremonies they're having. But you know, other than that, people go about their biz as usual as far as I can see.

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So I got a job. All thanks to the untiring efforts of Pissu. My father isn't all that pleased, he wants me to get a "proper job" aka working at HSBC or some other banking-related hell hole. I'm all 'I want to change the world" and he's all "when are you going to get a proper job?" If he says proper job one more time, I'll scream.

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So I started playing waterpolo again. There's one of those oldies vs current team matches coming up. Foolish me, I was under the impression that it would be a fun endeavor. Turns out the juniors are dead set on kicking our asses. And damn, have they been practicing. And they've all grown. Like really grown. Defending one is like trying to stop a small elephant from charging. With your hands. I tell this one girl, kid, I just bought this swimsuit, don't pull it. She's all I'm gonna rip it, with attitude, and I'm all baby girl, clearly you've never been on the receiving end of a thundering slap. Let me rectify that immediately.

But its so awesome to be playing with my old team again. We fell back into our old positions so naturally, all the familiar shots and plays unforgotten. There was a lot of nervous laughter going in; how many lengths can we swim before collapsing? can we still tread? can we still shoot? And then you make your first seven meter shot, and your second, and your third, and you get all warm and fuzzy inside: I still got it baby!

The funniest part is the ongoing power struggle. When you put a team of ex captains together, things are bound to get ugly. My girl Y, she put this thing together so clearly she feels she's in charge but someone, I won't say who, has told her that she's 'not in touch with the game'. Zomg. She was not happy. Me, well I'm bossy and take charge by nature, so I need to watch myself. I do not want to get worked up over this. I'm just happy to be playing again. Gone are the days when I was all teen angst and out to prove myself. Now its all peace and love and nodramapuhlease. So this should be amusing to watch. For me that is. Maybe not for the others.

It's hot so I have nothing else to say. I swear I'm melting. Oh and about the emails, I lied, no one cares about me. Bastids.

I. Need. A. Drink. Nao.

That's how I feel right now and that's five words, and that's my tag fulfilled. Peace.