Blogspot Confessional

Bless me, Father, it has been almost a year since my last blog entry.

More Kong from Isaac

Isaac's Kong Comics

Red Meat is Murder

I have been in Abu Dhabi for a week, negotiating a big helicopter contract. A couple of nights there has been time to head out of the hotel to a nearby mall, with a Yankee-looking food court (though I am sure it is folly to assume we invented the food court). Anyway, while I can't get pork in the UAE, I can certainly get red meat burgers. It has been almost a year of no red meat in India and while the allure of a burger (in this case a Hardee's Burger, though I had my choice of McD's, BK, DQ, and CHili's) is powerful, I don't have much of a stomach for it. The burger still sits heavily in my gut, and I am queasy.

I had a steak the other night at the hotel, some extravagant Waygu beef, whatever that means. I finished half, barely. The taste isn't fulfilling and my stomach is disagreeable almost immediately. I am confused, because I eat my fair share of lamb (isn't it a red meat) in India, and while it is often simmered to a pleasurable tenderness, I also have grilled meats that test my digestion.

A Proposal To Be Modest

In the December 15 New Yorker, critic Alex Ross sweetly describes his fondness for Leonard Bernstein. Of Lenny's influence, he says: "For a long time, I wasn't sure whether Bernstein had really accomplished something epochal or whether he had simply opened an epoch in my mind." Now that's something I can aspire to. Far too late to change the world--who's got the time--but perhaps my best acts and affections can open an epoch in someone's mind

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I need a quiet place. This moment here is the quietest it gets.

Goodbye London

We are at Heathrow awaiting our plane back to Delhi. Spent Christmas in London with Isaac and Jennifer and Charlotte and Jane--And others added to make a great holiday. Plenty of walking around London and lots of theater. Saw Pinter's No Man's Land days after his passing. Saw a Hamlet that was moving and funny. Saw Rowan Atkinson as Fagan in an old fashioned Oliver. Am I wrong or is every song in Oliver an archetype--stored away at the base of your brain? "Food Glorious Food", "Who Will Buy This Beautiful Morning", "Consider Yourself At Home", "Pick a Pocket Or Two", "As Long As He Needs Me." There were others too.

I must admit that as much as I loved the vacation, my senses were overloaded and frayed most of the time. I could have done for more days wrapped in a blanket. I keep thinking of Theroux and his wisdom that luxury blocks wisdom. And rambunctious luxury all the more.

I didn't feel much of the Christmas spirit this year, it wanes more each year. I am a stranger to it--and believe me I am one who was at one time an adoring adherent to the whole thing--the whole over the top, tinsled, music filled, Christ-centered but also Santa circling thing.

What a line in Hamlet: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.