Smaller than Life
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Why a blog? Simple. Cacoethes Scribendi -- the urge to write! My literary pretensions and caprices bring me here. Like any writer I write to be read. All my posts, though fettered to my small world and trivially myopic, will live and yearn that somebody connects to them someday. Cognitive frenzies, sardonic musings, aimless banters, incoherent ramblings and trivial indulgences; this is simply an episodic narrative of my trivial world -- in a grain of sand… Smaller than Life.
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When I am dead, - Hillaire Belloc |
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Her message is committed - Emily Dickinson |
The thoughts of our past years - William Wordsworth |
Yours Truly
Name: Dileepan Lampoon me at: panvista@gmail.comOn the Stands Which one of us pretentious writers has not got up... Misconductor I have not been writing my blog for quite a few da... Dust unto dust I lay... Today's post will have to go down as one of my wor... Mr. SOD There may be infinitely many spelling and typograp... Bangalore beckons... Have spent the whole of the day saving my archives... Today, being another off-day, was distinctly bette... Sheaves on the Shelf January 2011 December 2009 March 2007 August 2006 February 2006 November 2005 October 2005 August 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 October 2003 Buy my Book |
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Gobbledygook! My mother today dismissed my writing as gobbledygook. Gobbledygook. Yes, that was the very word she used. And quite appositely too, I thought. And she stressed on the importance of lucid writing. At which point my father also stressed on the irrepressible fact that words should merely act as the lens which clarifies the imagery of the canvas to the mind and not as a coloured glass frame which only serves to vitiate the effect of the canvas. Little could I differ from them. But at a sub-conscious level, I only think of this phase of life as the learning phase. Which is why I have not striven to produce serious literature, novels and the like. Once the preparation and the practice is complete and I am well versed with all the uses of the tool, I will be able to brandish it more skilfully. This is precisely why I let myself go really sesquipedalian on my thoughts. I believe that once words begin to cascade like the the limpid stream, temperance is always easier. Limpid and fluid - those are the two caveats. I am just waiting for the day when my writings begin to boast of bombast, perspicuity and perspicacity! I would have learnt, to write (pun intended)!
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