Jabberwocky and Finnegan wakes

Since long folks. I shall pretend that someone reads my blog and write, swig on a little sprite, be trite:
how a proverb is lost in a daily uttered careless sentence:

PROVOCATION: I was OUT OF SIGHT?!! Are you OUT OF (your) MIND?

Analyse this: "You were out of your mind, thats why I was out of sight for you"
" If I am out of my mind how will I sight you...occipital cortices
mere mind mein hai na"

" You have to be in sight to be in mind, man chanchal hai"
- Ergo if you are out of sight you cant be in my mind"

- " Sight mara to kya, Mind your business"

- " What the eyes do not see the mind does not perceive"( an
ophthalmologist's abou ben adhem vision)

- " What the mind does not see, the eyes do not perceive"
( a priori purists, proactivists, neurophysiologists, 1st yr med
students)

-- Advertisement bananewaalon ka gurumantra....bang, bang bang it in.

Hum har din ki baat cheet mein kitna bakwaas bolte hain.Non sequitur..chatakdar bhel where a nimbu having no connection to sev is sexing it up with dices tomatoes and coriander.....koi ek ka doosre se kya relation. Bus synchronised with tamarind pulp for subsistence in a metro with memories of school, homework book, rote poetry and a man who shook Spears and a Lord with Ten Sons who charges the light brigade somewhere in Russia where Tanushree Dutta dances now semi nude in a bhelpuri Bollywood flick.

Like a matrix...is there a sensible world where events/ words follow each other with some logic and we can sense this logic.Till then teri jaat ka baida maru, hata sawan ki ghata, fatele doodh ke chilkhe, kaju ke nichale hisse, bashi bazook, fresh water salamander, porcupine, twiddledee and twiddledum, Jabberwocky your way through.

Such are the Joyce in life.Beauty is lost in translation. Like a fickle tRNA.
However it assumes a different beauty.Surreal, proteinaceous and unequally lawed upon a savage race that speaks NoNonsense.


So sayeth Lewis Carol when the looking glass showed Alice the reverse of what was written...and made sense actually
or to extrapolate....the reverse of what IS.....a past that ISNT.

Its Jungian jingoism.Synchronicity at its perverted best. Carol introduced us to portmanteau khichidi in this poem...and so not all the words seem known. Try and understand what lies beneath...U will realise that either the writer is opiated or you are in delirium tremens.Its a surreal astitva.....and one thing is finite....I am( "ayam") what I am ( 'maya')

"She's got opium in her bum"

Anyways here goes:


Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


Adios then....till next time which I shall hope is soon enough.

Such a long time

I have named my blog as 5HT-thats short for serotonin for those not familiar with medical jargon dysphasic terminology-and I would indeed call it most appropriate. Indeed to write down what you feel on an online diary with a Icarelittle whatyouthinkaboutit prologue is a serotonin surge itself. And its odd tht when I felt down during many moments and movements I could randomly write stuff and feel good....and yet I did not during many more ebb points. Maybe I was just too lazy. Well thats a maybe.

My last post more than a month back was abt me sinking into the languor of lecturer at BJ.Since then I have been....well...lecturer still....but have taught more,done cathlab postings( that was the high), done EDs seeing patients in distant wards in surreal MSEB blackout looking for jaundice in flashlight misery and groping for livers along tibial smoothness.More misery as we smashed ribs trying to resuscitate a patient on empty gloomy hospital corridors with no lights as she gasped waiting for the elevator to take her to wards.These are stories which only medicine residents will tell you.And it is fortunate I have had an opportunity to revisit that period through a fortuitous demotion in my professional career.

I think there might be a power failure in a few minutes. Shall save this and publish. More on tht later.

Hmmmdrum

Thinking about this for long. Am sliding into my lecturer's job comfortably. Teaching a batch of III/III MBBS kids who want "just the exam stuff", rounding with residents who are at best average, giving advice to prospective residents who are in a quandary about what field to take where; afternoons which drag incessantly through hours spent in the RMO mess which seem to lead into same things everyday over endless cups of tea, feeling lazy to venture beyond college in the morning to back home in the evening- the traffic sucks anyway, the heat is opressive, the sweat and dust cakes into unsightly muck on my face; don't feel bad about getting bored reading, pick the bag and set off home. Driving used to be a time to reflect, now its just about avoiding an idiot who wants to cut across the signal or make it across while the railway crossing is open.Calls are manageable.Admissions are not many.OPDs are not really exciting.No one seems to say I am wrong at anything.

Want to feel angst, but the inertia to overcome to just indulge in constructive thought seems.........well,... not okay. But am surprised at my not doing anything about it.

Wither inspiration? It seems to have become into just the act of breathing. Existing.Merging, homogenizing. I need a whack on the bottom, a pull at the collar and a push from behind. Am waiting for it.

Albany ka Munnabhai

Article flicked from CBS website:


By salary standards, Bob Paeglow may be the
least-successful doctor in America, CBS News
correspondent Steve Hartman reports in this
week's Assignment America.

He's got thousands of patients, but not one
country club membership. His family lives
in the worst neighborhood in Albany, N.Y.

Fortunately, Paeglow didn't go into
medicine for the money. He went into it �
pretty late in life � because he kept
having a vision of himself in old age he
didn't like: "That the world was no better
because I was a part of it than if I'd
never been born."

At the age of 36, Bob gave up his career as
a quality control technician, went to
medical school and set out to improve the
quality of the planet.

He opened his office in a neighborhood
where most doctors wouldn't open their car
door, and welcomed in all the people
mainstream medicine would rather ignore.
People like Belinda.

Belinda is a first-time patient. She has
clinical depression � but no insurance.

"I can't in good conscience sit in front
of a patient and say, 'You need this and
I can't help you, get out of here.'I
can't let that happen," Paeglow says. "My
people are going to get what they need to
the best of my ability."

In this case, that means visits with a
counselor, at Paeglow's expense. In other
cases, it means giving his patients not
only a prescription but a check to pay
for it. Not to mention that he provides a
lot of non-medical care.

Lateesha has been going through a tough
time lately. Her dad � one of Paeglow's
patients � is fighting colon cancer.
That's why the doctor prescribed a little
distraction: He threw her a little
birthday party.

He does this kind of thing all the time.

"One time I was in a bind and I wasn't
able to purchase Christmas for my son and
he purchased Christmas for my son," a
patient says. He bought him a new coat,
new gloves, and a race track.

"Dr. Bob's my heart," she adds. "He is."

Paeglow takes absolutely no salary and
survives mostly on donations, reports
Hartman. But even when people give him
money for him, he usually plugs it right
back into the practice. Every penny he
makes goes back to his patients in one
way or another.

Does that make him the least-successful
doctor in America?

Or the most?


Koinonia Primary Care
Attention: Dr. Robert Paeglow
553 Clinton Avenue
Albany, NY 12206

AAuu Reboir, thankyu

Finally have managed to solve the blog jhol. Could see my blog after ages. Saakshaat Vithu paavla asa vatle. No thats a hyperbole because I am partly opiated by sleep at an unearthly hour, and partly disabled by the synaesthesias created by a tab of Ativan.
My sense of coordination has gone for a toss.I can feel the ataxia of my drunken fingers....so it shall be an acheivement if I can type sometihing compos mentis out of this.The mosambi peel seems thicker than usual...and the bibs set my jaw in to a jigThe ease with which the bolus of half masticated mosambi pulp slides through the esophagus creates a musical whoosh, thud as it lands into the fundus of the stomach.GLP sears through,stomach distends and opium flushes the gray gyri and sulci again.
Dont trip me, I shall fall. But it wont hurt. My feet feel like rubber.

Anyways: I know I am not as sugarily endowed or DENTally delectable as my cousin Denty...but i do need to say thanks to many soulkeepers who bore with my passive aggressive rants while I stayed with them in the US.

Ramu--had never lived so long with my brother since 10 years. And I have had a friends in the past where distance led us apart.

To Shalini...to whom I might have been a pain in the back. But I was very frustrated by all the inactivity, and would unconsciously project it on to her.But she was gracious and forgiving and .........no I never cooked when she did.

Lakshmi: aap mahaan ho.In all the stress of your painfully overkill schedule you did so well. Tumhara khana naseeb hua, bahut hua.

Rajesh- never knew you , hadnt seen much of you before.But I thoroughly enjoyed the one month I spent at Reading......have chitappa also to thank.

Ananya: I had the opportunity to see your toddler years which I might not get to see again.Everyone here still misses you.

Denish:You have had hard times.But the effort of travelling 2 hrs to make it to Norwood and be with us was heartening.

Vidya and Kiruba: Aapki shaadi mubarak.I told you once Vidya...jitna door tum ghar se raho, utne paas tum gharwalon ke ho jaate ho.This country rocks

At 17000 ft above ground level, I had written a different post to publish on blogger later.It was an assesment of my stay there as a summary. Shall post it some time later.Abhi my eyes are droopy.My touch on my skin feels unusually smoothened out.My nostrils are roomy with smells of the night.Getting arrectores pilorum -----feels like some Rushdiesque surreal mangrove forest with gods and heath and flies.And even thoughts wafting around like ghosts, randomly, unhindered.If you want to experience it go into the small cirrus of neurotransmitter puff.Maybe the midnight's children are transmitting waves through arabesque walls of Allhambrasque mosques and lapis lazuli laden spitoons.Not the best of times to reflect on gains and losses and existentialist kitsch.

Abu Reboir.Hic Hic. --(diaphragm ka bhi muscle relax ho gaya Ativan se)

Phunny

This is odd. I am able to post on the blog, but not view it. Anyone more enlightened on the subject to help? This is the ultimate karma cola - keep posting, not to see what shows to others.