Denim Decadence

Diesel Zathan 764

•	Regular slim fit...that fit is very relative indeed
•	Boot cut...how on world do you wear a non-boot cut?
•	Diagonal side belt loops.
•	Lift-up coin pocket. They mean the fifth pocket..coin is just an excuse
•	Cotton/elastane; machine wash...really how often do you wash a pair of blues

It's now the most expensive piece of ass wear in my closet. At 190 bucks a pop, this sucker sure has all that harmony between fine fashion wear and a comfy seating for everything left, right and center of a groin.

Granted, it lacks the sex appeal of a custom cut pinstripe trouser. But then again, picking up women at cocktail parties aint my style either :)

So akin the denim tendencies of the protagonist in my short novella (Blue and Rivetted) this pair of Zathan will largely replace my "not-so-fashionably-fatigued' Abercrombie destroyed flare. For the benefit of those who haven't read the first chapter of Blue and Rivetted, here's an extract from the first few paragraphs. The narrator is the pair of denims.
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It’s been a good two weeks now since I was stacked on this aged wooden shelf. Beside the shelf is a life sized cut out of a rugged, rodeo who is wearing me – well, not exactly me, a darker wash of me. I was touted as the only five-pocket, riveted, that would offer any serious competition to a certain brand from California that linked horsepower to fabric strength, a symbol of capitalism, a prideful logo to sport on any ass.

I, however, was in a land that was just waking up to the so called global brands such as the one from California. I was in Bangalore. The city was speedily renouncing its post-colonial psyche and steadfastly moving towards a celebrated revolution of bits and bytes. However, when I was being conceived, I do remember the brooding thoughts of that early 60 something man, graciously losing his motor skills, thickly bespectacled, running his shaky scissors on me....
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Rajma - Good for left brain thinking!!

This afternoon, I will be filming the first of a Trilogy that was conceived over a lunch meeting. I think it was something to do with the Rajma and Chawal that Sandhyaji served up - its spurred the best of our creative juices. The trilogy is tentatively titled, The Religion of Terror.

Today's filming is going to be quite a challenge given that it will be one single, seemless 4 minute shot. My production crew has never been this excited and upbeat about a concept. I can't tell how much I love the fluidness of the message we plan to send with this trilogy. I hope we can make it to some of the Un-cut film festivals out there.

This trilogy is a tribute to the passion and the remarkable persistence that my good friend Shahid has demonstrated in the last 1 year.

OK! Time to roll.

Food For Orgasm - Part II

She sent me an SOS about how to fend off a man wanting her to massage his pent up mojo.... online. As much she did not fancy him as a "package", she did confess that she sympathized with his repressed sexuality and that she wanted to give him a "helping hand", more as a shrink than as an orgasm dubbing artiste. It was an ardent plea, she said about the one he made (he must be moonlighting as a Religion TV evangelist, I thought). Apparently they did meet once before that online solicitation. So I guess there was enough to feed his imagination.

The Phd in social behavior and the Pavlovian curiosity that she has, justified the question she asked me - "Do men think of sex (or jerking off in this case) as routinely as food?". Sounded like a familiar gender analysis circumventing popular theories of men being from mars and yada yada...but it sure did spark off this interesting supposition I want to make (or mere endorsement of what's already proven).

The neanderthal man's (Man, literally) predatory skills were largely driven by "hunger". So, there was this circadian rhythm of sorts that provoked him to hunt and feed his hunger. That circadian rhythm's nueral stimulus and response system, I think, is the same one that controls man's sexual drive. In other words, the brain receives orders from a common source to trigger off hormones that would satiate predatory and mating instincts.

I am sure this is less of a supposition and more of a "doh" analysis. But, what I am interested in, is an evidential study of sorts - man in solitary confinement with access to extensive pornographic material, but CANNOT jerk off. Instead everytime his mojo peaks, he has the incentive of requesting his favorite cuisine for not jerking off. Over a period time, I wonder if his mating skills become vestigial.

Pavlovian extrapolation or just plain wishful thinking
or
just another Seinfeldian argument?..remember that episode where George combines his passion for food and sex!!!

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Jerry: So, she didn't appreciate the erotic qualities of the salted cured meats?

George: She tolerated the strawberries and the chocolate sauce, but eh, it's not a meal, you know? Food and sex, those are my two passions. It's only natural to combine them.

Jerry: Natural? Sex is about love between a man and a woman, not a man and a sandwich.

George: Jerry, I'm not suggesting getting rid of the girl. She's integral.

Jerry: Maybe instead of trying to satisfy two of your needs, how about satisfying one of somebody else's.
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Read the original Food For Orgasm

Eat, Drink, Movie....and damned to work for a living !!!!

I have been horrendously slaving at work the past few days. Yes ! Work, the one that pays my bills and weekend debaucheries.

Understandably, I have had a paucity of time to meet up with the usual suspects who have been a supreme source of content for my blogs (euphemistically called "muses"). And, hence the frequency of my blogging turning south.

I have an hour's break before I put my head down to work on a perfunctory analysis for a 'Revenue Forecast' conferance call tommorow.

Despite the aggravating schedule, I have joyously stolen time to catch up on my fair share of movies. Especially, those sunday afternoons, when the humidity doesnt justify stepping out, wearing even the best of loose cottons. I have been watching classics. Thanks to a big let down of summer movies at the Movies this year, sans Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. So here's my 'Stay-at-home-summer-siesta-time' viewing list.

HUD - Gals! this one will keep your mojo on an overdrive, courtesy Paul Newman's hunk factor! An intriguingly articulate story of contradicting value systems between a father and son. I was greatly moved by this flick, more so because of the recent bonding I have had with my dad. My dad is 72 and he scares me when he refers to this phase of his life as the "twilight years". Suddenly, I feel like I haven't thanked him enough for eveything I took for granted.

American Graffiti - Not to offend any Starwars fans out there, but hell! mating calls of frogs are more passionate than the courtship scenes of a plastic Queen Amidala and an annoyingly frigid Annakin Skywalker. Before I watched American Graffiti, I would have never believed if someone were to say that George Lucas could pack powerful and defining emotions and grit in his characters. But, now I have a new found respect for George Lucas the man who CAN make films without the CGI laden green backgrounds. The ubiquituous soundtrack of Motown hits in the flick are a delight. Whacky intelligent humor. Vivid images of semi-urban adolescent populus facing typical quandries in their love lifes.

The Last Picture Show - This 1971 flick had a screenplay that would make Charlie Kaufman introspect about his talent. I must confess, this flick left me the effect of an aphrodisiac. No! Its not attributed to the skin fest of an incredibly gorgeous Cybill Shepherd making her debut (Playing Jacy Farrow, a lead character). It's the screenplay - the clever juxtapositioning of female anatomy and lines (the talking kind) and the starkly stationary frame. This flick is light years ahead of it's time ..who am I kiddin! its ahead of our times. The best I have seen this summer.

Cat on a hot tin roof - Re-visiting this Tennesse Williams classic. I am in the midst of pre-production planning for my flick and its mind boggling to even think about the extent of location scouting I have to do. What I like about "Cat on a.." is the almost stage theater like presentation without compromising on the visual elements of onscreen narration. I could count the number of locations - should have been quite a relief for the production designer. Paul Newman hits the zenith of restrained acting in this flick.

Irrational Hype

I vowed that I wouldn't pay to go see Sarkaar. Well!! I stuck to it and more. I got paid to watch it - perks of being a film columnist or should I say compensation to put up with drivel. For my faithful readers, here's a little perk. You get to read my review of Sarkaar before it hits the newstands in a couple of weeks.
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Hopeless romantics, glued like Siamese twins tumbling down on sloping grassy mounds akin road rollers, loose ends of saris and double-conditioned wavy hair left to dance with the winds, an army of sidekicks with perfectly synchronized gyrations – all that’s passé in Bollywood’s latest mobster flick Sarkaar. It seems like quite a renaissance for mob and mafia themes, what with Sarkaar closely following on the heels of D. Incidentally, both are from the same production house. All that passé is replaced by raw sepia-toned imagery of chaotic life on the streets of Mumbai, designer beards and slim cut shirts, cell phones and automatic pistols, long pauses and monosyllabic punch lines.

Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t mean to be unappreciative of Ram Gopal Varma’s (RGV) sense of cinema in Sarkaar. I don’t even want to sound hackneyed that some film genres have classics that cannot be paralleled. But, play with me on this. I believe that when it comes to the greatest mob flick ever made in the history of Indian cinema, nothing comes close to Mani Ratnam’s Tamil classic Nayagan (Time Mag's All Time Top 100). Period. I am sure even RGV would endorse that and put his Sarkaar second only to it. But if I had the option (well, I do in this column), I would give that second spot to Sathya or D, but definitely not to Sarkaar. Here’s why.

Yes! RGV does pay his due respects with his opening credits to Cupola’s Godfather and his heavy influence from it. Yes! Looking at Amitabh Bachan, it almost felt like the ghost of Marlon Brando had descended on the sets of Filmistan. Yes! The technical finesse, the diffused lighting was all immaculate. But, what it lacked was that strong portrayal and inventiveness of social affliction behind the psyche of all that organized crime and Robinhood sentiments. I emphasize inventiveness because there was nothing out of the ordinary elements that any mob flick would have – deceit and defection, conflict and conspiracy, ideologies and idiosyncrasies.

As much as I loved Abishek Bacchan’s versatility in Bunty aur Babli, I wasn’t terribly impressed with his role in Sarkaar. There were quite a few of his scenes that begged for better timing in dialogue delivery and body language. And lastly, what’s it with Soundtrack? It is not necessary that every scene needs one. Why do the trumpets and sitars go off when the characters are not talking?

So if you do decide to watch something on the big screen you would be better off watching Parineeta.

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