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-- an actual spam email that i received (with a jpg containing the actual marketing content stuck somewhere in the text, i think this textwrapping is a trick that spammers use to get around junk mail filters). so what is it, a word generator that picks words from a dictionary at random and throws them together? something like the MIT paper generator, except only less cohesive (more abstract)?
avant-garde poetry?! the paintbrush half northward...
-- an actual spam email that i received (with a jpg containing the actual marketing content stuck somewhere in the text, i think this textwrapping is a trick that spammers use to get around junk mail filters). so what is it, a word generator that picks words from a dictionary at random and throws them together? something like the MIT paper generator, except only less cohesive (more abstract)?
avant-garde poetry?! the paintbrush half northward...
send the wild women out the back door...
0 Comments Published by SK on Sunday, March 19, 2006 at 11:06 PM.
i went to this indian restaurant tonight and after a spate of tamil songs, the music abruptly changed to something i haven't heard in a very long time - michael learns to rock! i'm not a fan - i barely like their music - but it was nostalgic to listen to them. it reminded me of 1995-96, when someone in our group bought their album and we used to listen to it even though it bored us to death! i found myself remembering almost all the lyrics to the songs and involuntarily lip-syncing along. come to think of it, there were many bad songs of those days (that i probably hated with all my heart but still couldn't avoid listening to, because they were ubiquitous) that if i listen to them today, i would still laugh and sneer, but eventually associate them with something endearing that's now lost forever - and that makes them beautiful too. those songs are keepsakes from a passed time - like the pebbles that you pick up at a beach you know you wouldn't visit again - the pebbles themselves are of no value, insignificant by themselves in the sunburnt sand - but in the confines of a shoebox, or on the ledges of a bookshelf, they appear to pulsate with memories of good times bygone. the stones are not inanimate. Zen, again.
boy was it worth it - so peaceful up there, and though there were quite a few people it was absolute silence, only the wind. a feeling of calm washes over you once you get up there. a nice little zen garden, a pond with fishes, it had it all.
then this thing about stone piles - i saw a few of them and googled about them later, apparently its a zen thing, but what's fascinating about it is that all zen gardens have as many stones (or more) as plants - and this is partly because the philosophy does not have a sharp distinction between animate and inanimate objects in the world. life is not necessarily organic - a pebble that captures your attention and talks to your subconscious, is i would say more alive than a mosquito on the wall.
