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Willy's Weblog

Thoughts from an unfocused mind

Right-o-clock

He was sitting comfortably in the armchair looking out the twin windows, at the world outside. The loud chime of the clock brought him back to the room.

“Another year past” he said looking at the clock with a sad smile.

“Any day now” the little voice whispered

Whenever the little voice spoke it was always soft & comforting unlike the people outside the windows, with their loud voices and bright colors. He liked the silence.

He had tried leaving the house once or twice over the years, but even the effort of getting off the chair had proved taxing. So he chose to sit there, watching from the inside. He knew when the time came; he would be ready to go outside. The voice had told him so. It had asked him to wait until it was the right time. And so he waited and waited for the little voice to tell him when it was that the time turned ‘right’.

This post is NOT part of the 200 word challenge.

I missed a few words & months.

Also happy 9 year anniversary to the blog

 

 

Few and Good (books, films & friends)

Sometimes you stumble onto a movie or book, something you’re sure you’ll love, but then you decide to put it off for whatever reason. And a few years later stumble onto it again, but this time you decide to give it a go and sure enough, you end up loving it.

This happened today. I sure wasn’t ready the last time and the wait turned out to be good, ended up appreciating it better. Lesson learned today was to trust my instincts. Also that watching movies and reading books isn’t a waste of time. Reading and watching all the garbage that comes your way certainly is. As the age old saying goes, “Books (movies too) and friends should be few and good”.

The term “Good” here is subjective i know, but we all have an idea of what is good for us and whats not. Good friends though is an entirely different subject, we’ll leave that for another day.

Good movies and books leave us inspired. How they affect each of us or rather how we choose to be affected by them is up to us

Why we hate Hoomans

I imagine things would be a lot easier if civilization as we know it, just ended. Not that everyone dies, but the current ‘modern society’ gives way to a anarchic one with lesser number of people.

Maybe that is why I’m a fan of post-apocalyptic fiction ( zombies, asteroids, AI etc). Not just me, there is massive demand for post-apoc stories, Walking Dead? Day after tomorrow? The Matrix?. Its easy to see why people would like the post-apoc world, because life would be a lot easier, or simpler rather.

Let me walk you through life today for most people…

Get up, get ready for work, worry about breakfast, forget about breakfast, worry about traffic, sit in traffic worrying about work, get to work, worry about boss/work, remember you forgot to drop kids off at school, Lunch, worry about traffic, sit in traffic, wait at the supermarket checkout line, get home, dinner, sleep, repeat until weekend.

Now imagine life post the apocalypse…

Get up, no wait there is no need to get up today, get up anyway, have some water, have breakfast, go explore the now abandoned Air-force base, play with all the guns and jets, lunch, find a friend, have some more food, go explore some place else, plan that cross country trip with friend, refuse to tell your friend where you live and how much food you have and if you have any other friends, worry about friend being a psychopath, refuse to spend the night at new friend’s ‘house’, walk back to your house in darkness, because light attracts wild animals, look over your shoulder to see if new friend is following you home, half sleep/wake through the night in case new friend/wild animal attacks.

Nope! I was wrong. We’re f**ked either way.

The Night Shift : Poem

Got to stay awake tonight,

graveyard shifts got me feeling half baked and light.

Its been a while & it don’t feel alright,

alone in this room all night.

So many things I’d rather do,

and places I’d rather go.

Swim with the fish, sing songs with the birds,

bake cakes and make great milk shakes.

But a few more days and this will turn,

the new norm, another home.

Until they send another list,

that decides my next fate.

I forged this cage for myself,

a piece of art, that I can’t debate.

Freedom I think is an illusion of sorts,

“Back to work!” my mind retorts.

I’ll suspend now in mild disbelief,

at this life now that I see as relief.

Trust myself to stay awake,

until the dawn, when I get to sleep.

This post is NOT part of the 200 word challenge.

I missed a few days, alright.. almost a month.

Anand Wilson : Origin of my name

My first name is “Anand”, which though is a very Indian name, isn’t very common (Or rather I’d like to think it isn’t). There has always been that one other ‘Anand’ guy wherever I’ve lived, worked or played. But obviously we both got along, because ‘Anand’ literally means happiness.

My parents have a funny story about how they came up with my name. Where I was born you are supposed to hand in the name of the newborn at birth or within a day at most. So the story goes, my dad was watching a Bollywood movie at home when my mom called him from the hospital, the day after I was born. And dad under pressure to name me read the first name that jumped at him from the credit sequence in that movie, Anand Bakshi. And so I became Anand. Seems something I would do in that situation. Put off something till the very second you need to it, and then just do it. Now I know where i get it from.

Anand Bakshi was a legendary poet and lyricist for Indian movies. So I guess it wasn’t a bad choice.

When you think about it, one moment I had no name, and the next moment on I was Anand.

How my dad got his name is a funnier story (which he reminds us of on the regular). His parents named him ‘Vincent Nellissery’, and send him off to school. At school the teacher noticed there were two boys who had the same first and last names, ‘Vincent Nellissery’. So she renamed my dad ‘Wilson’ and asked my grandparents to just go with it. Both the boys were friends, and remain so to some extent till date. They built houses in line next to the other, and the postmen mix up the letters because lo and behold both the houses have the same name “Nellissery House”. Maybe the teacher had foresight after all.

The name Anand Wilson, is special (to me at least) because it has both ancient Indian and English origins. Anand derived from Sanskrit (ancient Indian language) and Wilson from Germanic origins (English, German, Iceland, Norway etc). To my credit I have searched far and wide for other Anand Wilsons in the world (on Facebook), and can confirm all of them are awesome. One is a Brazilian jiu-jitsu fighter, one a freestyle biker, some into science and research and many others waiting to find out how awesome their name really is.

This post is part of the 200 word challenge

This post inspired by The Daily Post’s prompt Say Your Name

Last call home

(Ring Ring…)

(Click)

Hello? Mom?

HELLO! You’ve reached the Morgan’s! We can’t come to the phone right now, Leave a message at the beep!

(Beep)

Mom it’s Jessica. I won’t be coming home this weekend. Don’t wait up for me okay? (sniff). I’ll miss you mom. I’m…I’m so sorry about what happened last week. I shouldn’t have said those things. I know it isn’t easy with dad gone and all. I miss him too alright. I want to spend more time with him at his house. Okay… just … just tell Jason I said hi alright? I’ll miss him too. Tell him not to be scared of basements anymore alright? He’s a big brave boy now.

(Muffled voices)

Okay…I’m sorry…. (sniff).please… (sob).

(Click)

(Beep)

This post inspired by a writing prompt on Reddit

This post is NOT part of the 200 word challenge. I got lazy.

DIE (Flash Fiction)

I woke up with a start, sat up and looked around, disoriented for a few minutes. Taking in whatever I could make out in the dim light that was coming from under a door. I was in a room of some kind. Last I remember, I had just got breakfast and was off to work. I was blank after that.

It was a small wooden cabin, no longer than 12 feet and just as wide. There was a dank and musty odor in the air and the sound of a lake or river nearby.

My eyes had better adapted to the darkness by now. I could make out a small table and a flat metal bed. It appears I had fallen off the metal bed in sleep. I tried getting up but it was a bit too much. My head was throbbing, probably from the fall. And my legs were tied with some sort of cord to the table.

None of this obviously made any sense. I lived in the city, a good 4hours by flight from any of the nearest lakes or rivers. I didn’t even have enough money to be kidnapped. Or know anyone who could pay a ransom.

I could see more of the room now. There was a broken microwave on the table with stains inside and a few trays next to it. The metal bed appeared to have been a surgical table once, with no cushioning now and rusted. Things did not look good.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Knock..knock knock

Steady but soft they came. Then there were three more.

Knock knock….knock

Even though I had remained quiet, my heart was racing. I knew I had to think fast. I tried wriggling my leg out of the cord, it wouldn’t let free.  For the first time I realized I was soaking wet. It felt stickier than sweat. I looked around for something that could help me in case I needed to defend myself against whoever was knocking.

The knocks on the door again made me jump.

Knock..knock knock….Knock knock.…knock

The sun was setting outside, taking whatever light coming through the door with it. I couldn’t make out anyone standing outside, there were no shadows under the door. Maybe I was imagining this, the room, the sounds. But the pain in my head and the cords tied to my feet were far too real to be some nightmare.

Dread was slowly setting in with the absence of light. I curled up to my knees and waited for the knocks, ready to answer.

But nothing came. Only the sound of water flowing.

Then suddenly there were new sounds, laughter and footsteps. The sounds were getting closer.

There were people coming toward the room. One was a high pitched but young sounding laughter, clearly a girl while the other deeper, man like. Soon the voices stopped near the door and it creaked open.

I had to close my eyes with my hands against the light now flooding the room. It seemed to be coming from somewhere just outside the door. I had never been so scared in my life. I slowly lowered my hands to take on the scene.

There was a little girl standing at the door. She had dark black hair pulled back and wore a cornflower blue dress with a yellow ribbon across her tiny waist. She couldn’t have been more than 10. She looked pristine and otherworldly almost angelic in the messy surroundings of the room and the woods outside. She smiled and said “The doctor will be in soon” and walked away, out of view, half giggling.

Then I heard them again, the knocks. This time they all came together.

Knock..knock knock….Knock knock….knock

It wasn’t from the door; it was from the roof of the cabin. I looked up to see a square glass window on the ceiling. There was another girl. Lit from the side, I could make out only her blue dress and smile. There was no innocence to her like the first girl, only malice.

She knocked again on the wooden ceiling staring at me.

Knock..knock knock….Knock knock….knock

That’s when it hit me, she was communicating to me, in Morse.

-..    ..    .

   D     I     E

All I could manage in reply were a few bubbles from my mouth and tears, now running down my face. I looked down and closed my eyes, waiting, with only the sound of flowing water for company.

 

This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

Tatum/Hill made me do it

Today’s post inspired by The Daily Prompt’s Prompt : Roaring Laughter

There were many times over the years I’ve laughed so hard that I cried. A few of those times I was high, a few other times was just after lunch/dinner with friends (not sure if the meals were drugged). But the most I’ve laughed at over something recently was when I watched the movie 22 Jump Street, sequel to 21 Jump Street and remake of the TV show with the same name.

What made the first part, 21 Jump Street, so popular was the chemistry, brotherhood & comedic timing of the lead actors that came across too genuine to be called ‘acting’. Every scene was hilarious. So much so that whenever they came on screen, you were already bracing yourself for the impending laugh-a-thon.

I believe it was Channing Tatum’s first comedic role, and first time paired with Jonah Hill an established comedian/actor. And watching that movie now you’d never think it was his first time at comedy, it looked natural or maybe Jonah brought it out of him.

Their gimmick was that they knew exactly what the audience was thinking and expected from the story, so instead of just playing out a predictable plot, they played out the plot while making fun of it themselves, before we had a chance to critic. Yes, it is an age old technique that works well in comedy. But the fresh take on it is what worked for these movies.

When the sequel released, I had no hopes of it, because it looked like they had already run out of jokes and the sequel wouldn’t have anything new to offer. I wasn’t wrong, they managed to pull off the same gimmick, of making fun of themselves, making a sequel with the exact same plot. But it worked and turned out even funnier than the original.

There isn’t one scene you can pick from either of the two movies that are funnier than the rest, because every bit of them was funny. If you haven’t already, you should definitely check them both out.

They have 23 Jump Street planned. Count me in.

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

How I wrote a book that got me into Heaven

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I was sitting by my room, when I saw St Peter walking toward me waving. He was holding a big book between his arms. He wasn’t smiling. I had reasons to be scared, it was only my first week in heaven, and these guys made mistakes, oh yes they did. The angels had dropped me at the Pearly Gates three days earlier, right after my “incident”. Although I didn’t find it funny, the angels couldn’t stop laughing about it. I mean come on, I just died, have some respect guys! They had told me, half the reason I was going to heaven was because nothing had made the big man laugh like that in a while.

I’ve been settling into the routine and getting used to the bright lights and food. There were group songs and choreographed dance performances, trumpets and all, in praise of the big man every hour. The best part however was that you didn’t have to attend if you didn’t want to. You were free to chill and do your thing. They probably figured we did our time on earth, why pester us after death. So I just went around and met the other folk who live in my block.

Martyrs, saints, clergy and nuns lived on a separate block, they were the ones who coordinated flash mobs and such. The Jesus freaks made up the most of the other blocks. Then there was my block. “The others” as they call us. People in heaven solely because their work on earth influenced the masses to do great good, even though they themselves didn’t. I guess I’m a minority amongst minority, solely here because I made God laugh. Whatever works I say.

Anyway getting back to the now, I was wondering if you could runaway and lay low for a while somewhere in heaven, in case it turned out they did make a mistake. I hadn’t had enough time to explore, but the old timers said the place was infinite, as seen on TV and all! It was too late anyway, St Peter was already at my door.

“Hello son! How are you settling in?” His voice boomed

“Fine Pete… I mean Sir” I squeaked

“Haha good good, I’ve come to apologize” He said

“I … I don’t suppose there was an error” I said, almost a murmur now

“No! Of course not! We never make mistakes! No worries there. It’s just that our good Lord has given me a task and I don’t know who else to approach” He said

“I’ll do absolutely anything” I said with new found vigor.

“See we’re making a few changes to the rules down at earth, and need new ideas”

“I don’t… I mean you already know I wasn’t that pious or anything, you could maybe get one of the popes to do it” I said

“To be completely honest boy, he asked for you by name” St Peter said, sitting down beside me. “I hope you understand the special circumstances under which you were granted entry”

“I understand” I said with a gulp.

“You are familiar with the 7 deadly sins?”

“Of course…I mean not particularity fond of them, I am aware yes.”

“He’d like you to add one more to the list, and bring it to 8” He said casually

“What? That’s an ancient list! I bet the guy who wrote it lives here already”

“The Lord’s will son, he needs a fresh look. You have a week’s time from today. Just let me know when you’re done” And he got up to leave

“Are you sure you don’t have anyone else to ask? Surely there are people better at this than me”

“You have a week! To add one more sin, that’s more than enough time I say. Goodbye now” And he left quickly

After the initial panic wore off, I thought long and hard about why I was allowed into heaven, after all the Sundays I didn’t go to mass, and making fun of Jesus freaks. Actually calling people Jesus freaks could be a sin too, who knows. The only thing worth mentioning I ever did was publishing a book on…..

At that moment, it all came together beautifully, why God laughed, why I was chosen to come to heaven, why I had to be the one to update the list of sins.

I walked to the Gates, where Big Pete sat.

“I’ve got it” I said smugly

“That was quick, I didn’t doubt you for a minute, see God doesn’t make mistakes. Let’s hear it” He said.

“Selfie! Thou shall not take a selfie” I said excitedly smiling

“Haha” his laughter boomed. “You’ll have to make it subtler than that to work it into the New Testament”

“How are you going to do that?” I asked

“You let JC worry about that, he’s the one that works miracles” He said. “And yeah almost forgot to tell you, right after your death, your book hit the Bestseller lists all across the world, you’re world famous now”

–END–

Now would be a good time to mention, I had self published a book titled “Let me take a last selfie” and then on a holiday right after, fell backwards off a cliff whilst taking a selfie.

It’s okay, you can laugh, even God did. He hates selfies.


This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

Today’s post inspired byThe Eighth Sin @TheDailyPost

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