eM is hanging by a moment

* I exist in a vaccuum: Well, not quite. But, almost. I have only sporadic access to the internet these days (hey, it's the end of the month and I have bills to pay.) So I'm writing this between work at Kalyan's house, where I arrived with laptop to throw myself at his mercy. And to play with his brand new kitten. He's a cutie. (The kitten, I mean, but Kalyan isn't so bad either.)

* Public appearances: Shall actually be made this week. I'm speaking at the Kitab festival this year, Friday, 4 pm at the Asiatic Library. I'll be talking about being a Young Writer In India and though it's all very fun, I'm also stricken with fear. This time it's not a comforting panel discussion where I can choose to be quiet if I want to. This time I'm actually going to be talking ALL ON MY LONESOME into, what I suspect, will be an indifferent audience. You should come and watch me, just for the entertainment value.

* New friends and one new word! Akshay and I have been hanging out quite a bit these last few weeks. We both live pretty much in the same suburb, and we both don't have 9 to 5 jobs that take up our time. This in itself, mixed with other common personality traits, is enough of a foundation for a friendship. We have, of course, also been consuming De Booze quite a bit and in one of our drunken moments of wisdom (Bloody Mary, Red Box, Sunday, 5 pm) came up with the word Platonic. Yes, I know it's already a word, but we were using it to define the men and women in our life who we hung out with constantly but with whom we have no romantic entaglement. Now we use the word a lot, as in, "Where's your Platonic tonight?" and "Oh, I saw that with my Platonic." See how it works? And much much more resonant than just, say, close friend or something.

* Entertainment: We went to watch August Rush the other day. I had read a review and I thought it said Katherine Heigl (from Grey's Anatomy) and I thought it was a chick flick, so when we entered the theatre and it began I was convinced that we were in the wrong theatre. But it had the delectable Jonathon Rhys Meyers and that little kid from Finding Neverland and Robin Williams so we stayed and watched it anyway. Sweet movie. All about music and finding music in every day things which reminded me of a guy I met last week who told me he was a sound engineer. Cute guy also. Hmmmm.

* Hate mail! I received this little gem last week:

from: Sreejesh Sreenivasan (suv100@gmail.com)
to: thecompulsiveconfessor@gmail.com

date: 15 Feb 2008 21:19

subject: butt ugly


Haaaaaai
I was really excited after reading ur blog. I told my self.....now here was a real polayadi mol of our generation, very much like kamala das or suraiah or whatever (the old hag keeps changing her name all the time) who gave perverts like me some thoughts to jerk off on.....Well the excitement only lasted till I saw ur damned photo in vanitha mag. The first thing I said to myself was "CRAP". The Cherummi who used to sweep my house when I was a kid... thats u. Honestly I think the cherummi was better looking.

The guy who humped you, was he fucking blind or was he too stoned to give a shit? Anyway it would have been better if u remained anonymus or used a photo of a hot model instead of your own. Just hope nobody scans it on to the net for ur sake.

Wow. Who stole his testicles? I was going to edit his email address, but then I decided not to. For one thing, it's probably fake (I mean, come ON, suv100? Really? Very 1bruce1 of you, Shree, ol' pal) and for another, hey, this guy needs to get some and really fast, so maybe I'm actually doing him a favour by leaving it up there. I'm gaining karma points here.

In which we pick bones and try to make some points without babbling too much

I spent most of this last week at the Kala Ghoda festival. There were many panel discussions by many friends and two by me (which were totally last minute because of a mix-up so I couldn't tell you guys about it) and basically I've been a schmoozer. Schmoooooooooooooooooooozer. Good fun. Although I do have a bone to pick with Naresh Fernandes, editor of Time Out Mumbai, who was on the online writing panel with me. In fact, I have several bones. (I realise I should have just said these things at the panel, but I have acute stage fright, it's horrible. I just about keep it together. And by the time I muster up my courage to say anything it's time to leave. Sigh. Well I'll be speaking at the Kitab fest this year in Mumbai, so hopefully, I'll be able to not make a complete ass of myself then.)

ANYhoo, back to Naresh Fernandes (who says he doesn't read blogs, but if he's here, hello and welcome!). On the panel he said that blogs for the most part, were narcissitic, self serving, and really, who wanted to read about your visit to the store anyway?

I'll tell you who, Mr Fernandes, on this blog alone, about a 1,000 people every day. That's quite a few people, isn't it, who are interested in what store I shop at? My hit counter is now over five lakh people in three years, from all over the world.

Could it be the reason I'm getting so touchy is because maybe somewhere I think you're right? Some blogs are boring yes, sometimes I am filled with wonder that people read MY blog, seeing as the only topic of conversation is me, how fun can that be for anyone else? But, you know, I read memoirs. I read diaries of authors I love. I read other people's blogs to see what they've been up to. Sometimes, if I'm in a new city and I see something that's been mentioned in a blog I read, I visit it. Similar to what your magazine does, pointed out Annie at the panel, but then you said that your magazine had reporters who were writing what they thought the reader would like to know, as opposed to blogs which just meandered through the blogger's personal experience of a place.

Um, wouldn't you rather read a personal opinion? I know I would. I like food reviews and club reviews and things, and your magazine DOES do a good job with those places, I agree, but when I visit a place and write about it, I'm doing pretty much the same thing, I'm talking about what I had to eat and drink and whether a place is worth visiting. I think, from Google search stats that people listen to what I have to say on the subject as well, perhaps even more than they would with an established media brand, because I don't have an axe to grind. Perhaps, even more basically, because I'm not getting paid to write about any of these things. And because I'm not getting paid to write about, oh, say, a night at China House, you know when I say I love China House it's because I actually feel that other people should know that I love it for whatever reasons. Am I making any sense?

You don't read blogs, Mr Fernandes, which is what makes our opinions different because I DO read the mainstream media. Hell, I'm a PART of the mainstream media. I like to read reports in newspapers and magazines and then I like to read what bloggers have to say about it. It helps balance my opinions. It's also nice to see what other people have to say, other people who are writing because they LIKE to write. Are you not reading blogs because they're boring or because you actually don't want to know what a significant amount of people are thinking? I'm really curious, I swear I'm not asking just to be all in your face, but I'd like to know. But there's no point asking you these questions because (lalalalalala) you don't read blogs.

I would never define myself as a 'blogger' though. I have a blog yes, but I also have many other identities. The fact that him and I were on the same panel on online writing maybe should have told him that OTHER people took the medium seriously. Personally, I don't think you should take blogging TOO seriously. It's immense fun, yes. Reputations can be shaken, yes. But at the end of the day if you're writing something you wouldn't want to appear with your byline on it, then, well, you've crossed a line. And a lot of people don't get this. But I don't think you should be dismissive about blogs either. They're here, WE'RE here, this mass of people writing about everything from politics to books to personal lives. And well, most popular blogs in India and abroad have a far greater readership than a lot of magazines and newspapers. That says something, surely?


ps: I've been getting a lot of Facebook friends requests from people I don't know. If you read my blog and you add me, great, please just mention how you know me so I don't automatically ignore them all.

ps2: Please, I IMPLORE you, go read this post by Scout. Oh, scout, how much do I love you? Let me count the ways. Tee hee.

I Was A Teenage Bookworm

I've had the nicest weekend. Tourist season has begun in full force and so, there was Diabolique (my Facebook husband), in town for her sister's wedding, Crowley, here for the Maiden concert and Leela, here for me! Much socialising and catching up transpired, some very drunken evenings, lots of secrets told and received, and basically yesterday, Monday morning blues were in in full force, because everybody had goooooooooooooooooone and I was all alooooooooooooooone.

Today is a little better because Samit will be here soon for the launch of his new book. I am comforted.

I'm wondering whether I should launch on the drunken weekend, and how I am the BEST host EVER and how everyone who wants to drink in Bombay should just call me because I rule, but you know, seeing as I'm all modest and self-effacing I'm going to just hint at how awesome I am and let you fill in the rest. Instead I will talk about something I don't think I've mentioned on this blog before, my love for young adult literature. I think I have said before that I love Sweet Valley and Judy Blume and the BSC but I haven't actually gone into why and how and so on.

So, without further adieu, may I present to you my most favourite YA books in no particular order:

> Thunderwith by Libby Hathorn: Possibly one of the ONLY books that made me cry. I don't cry easily. Even Little Women didn't do it (and frankly Beth was a little annoying. What? She was! I don't like all these matyr types. I hated Cousin Helen in What Katy Did and Pollyanna, dude I wanted to slap her.) Anyway, so Thunderwith is this Australian book about this girl whose incredible, fiesty mother dies and so she has to go stay with her biological father and his new wife and kids. Because she's so lonely and because her stepmother is really horrible (not like child abuse types but generally cold and distant. I'm getting teary just writing about it. Jesus.) she 'adopts' this dog who keeps appearing and calls him Thunderwith. A dingo, I think. And when she has to face bullies at school and the Horrible Step at home, the dog helps. It's one of those coming-of-age books where there is a crisis point and then everything is resolved. Horrible Step even becomes Not-So-Horrible. I seriously loved this book. I think my most favourite bits were when she begns to become close to her younger sisters and brother. That made me go all awwwwwwww.

> Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume: I had a really hard time picking which of Judy's books to put here. Superfudge started me off on her, but Are You There God was the book of my preteen years, where I was trying to play catch up. It was, I think, the most age appropriate book I read that year. Especially since me and my friends at school were doing the same "have you got your period yet" competition that the kids in the book do. I don't know why we wanted it so much, but I suspect, looking back, that the book triggered it off. I had a copy of the book with a pink cover, I remember and all four girls sitting around chatting and by the end of the school year the cover was almost off.

Of course, you already know what this book is about but if you're one of the two people on the planet who hasn't read it, a recap: Margaret has moved from New York to a suburb (New Jersey, I think) where she quickly makes friends with three other girls who have a secret club called (wait for it) the Pre-Teen Sensations! In a very Judy-like way, one girl is not everything she seems, and the protaganist has to figure out stuff for herself before she can take a stand. (On a side note, I think the one book where friendships weren't THAT central in Judy Blume was Starring Sally J Freedman As Herself. I think Sally is one of my all-time favourite heroines. She was so SORTED, you know?). Anyway, Are You There God is the period book, just like It's Not The End Of The World is the divorce book, Then Again, Maybe I Won't is the wet dream book and Forever is the sex book and so on. What would our information be without Judy Blume? Much more scientific and a lot less fun, that's for sure. (My mother gave me the whole "the man plants the seed" schpiel along with something about my uterus lining falling out. It sounded gross. Hey, maybe that was the idea. Hmmmm, sneaky, Mom.)

> This Place Has No Atmosphere by Paula Danziger: Again, it's hard to pick which of Paula Danziger's books I liked the most, so I'm picking the one I re-read most often. It's set in the future, with the premise, I guess, that teenage girls are the same across the ages. So, Aurora is majorly bummed when her parents, like, have to move to the moon and she has to leave her cool neighbourhood (which has a mall people live in, it sounded awesome) and mood clothes (which change colour depending on what mood you're in) and move to a place with basically no atmosphere. Things get better though, coz she meets a cute boy (yay! I loved how these chicks always found cute guys, no matter where they were) and she acts in a play and discovers that life on the moon isn't so bad after all. I think my favourite bit about this book, apart from the descriptions of the world in the future was when she's worried that she's going to rust from not making out for so long and her boyfriend who is taking ESP classes tells her not to worry about the rusting. It's a sweet exchange.

> Julie Of The Wolves by Jean Craighead George: So, when I was young and my Abroad Relatives used to visit, they always got me these Newbery Award winning books which I devoured. (Okay, if anyone here has read Jacob Have I Loved was it not AWESOME?) Most of them were about young people overcoming difficulties in these exotic locations. Julie Of The Wolves is about this Eskimo girl, given away in child marriage to her father's partner's son and how she runs away. Only she gets stuck on the tundra with no civilisation whatsoever and then she spots this pack of wolves who she befriends and lives amongst. It's a poignant, sad story. I can still remember one line for the book where she finally stops walking on all fours and stands up and tells Amoraq, the pack leader, "I am me, your two-legged cub". It always made me want to get lost in an icy wasteland and meet wolves and watch them and share their food and so on. I find on Wikipediaing the book that it's been banned several times because of the attempted rape of the main character. I remember that scene, it's when her teenage husband wants to have sex with her because all his friends are teasing him about "having a wife and not mating with her." Oh, this book was awesome. I wonder where it is. On my bookshelf in Delhi, I think.


> I'm not putting all the classics in here, because, hey, they're classics, people will read them anyway. But, because you asked, my favourite young adult classics are: The Catcher In The Rye, Jane Eyre, Jack And Jill, What Katy Did Next and Anne Of Green Gables.

> And not quite YA, but I LOVED the Ramona Quimby books by Beverly Cleary. Spanning Ramona's life from the time she's about six to when she's nine, the books are an excellent picture of growing up in middle class America. Wait, that made it sound rather dull. They're about all sorts of things really--learning how to ride a bike and figuring that not all adults love you and pets and new babies and older sisters and parents who fight. These books are so so great. Do yourself a favour and find them.

> I'm trying very hard to remember what Indian authors wrote young adult literature when I was growing up. There was Paro Anand who wrote a set of short stories called Pepper The Capuchin Monkey. (Incidentally, I met her for an interview and carried along my copy of Pepper and she signed it for me and the ten year old inside me did a cartwheel.) There was RK Narayan, who I still love. (I had a craving for lime pickles each time I read Swami And Friends). I guess the Juneli At St. Avila's counts although I thought they were a badly written, derivative series even as a child. Hmmmmm, who else? This is terrible. I'll just write YA stuff myself.


I should probably go. This post is addictive and if I don't stop I'll be going on forever.