Unconditional Love

When I was growing up, it was kind of drilled into me that I shouldn't disturb grown-ups when they are doing something important. In particular, my dad didn't like being disturbed when he was in the middle of something. Now that I'm a grown-up myself, I try to be more flexible. But my grandma is on a different level. 

A couple of years ago, she was knitting in our living-room. I walked in, saying something to her – something quite inconsequential – without realising that she was in the middle of counting stitches. I would have at least finished counting the row before replying, but she immediately looked up from her knitting and replied to me. When our brief conversation was over, she calmly started to count again from the beginning.

This is the level of zen that I aspire to.

* * *

A recent phone conversation with my grandma, about my next visit to India:

Grandma:	বাড়ি কবে আসছো? (When are you coming home?)
me:	৬ তারিখ! (6th December!)
Grandma:	হ্যাঁ, তোমার মা বলছিল... (Yes, your mum was telling me...)
me:	তাহলে আবার আমাকে জিজ্ঞেস করছো কেন? নিজের মেয়েকে বিশ্বাস করো না? (Then why are you asking me? You don't believe your own daughter?)

I sometimes tease her like this, and she laughs or teases back. But this time she gave a straight reply, which hit me in the feels.

Grandma:

হ্যাঁ, বিশ্বাস করি। কিন্তু আবার শুনতে ভালো লাগে। (Yes, I believe her. But it's nice to hear it again.)

The Cooling

Three "quotes" about cold from three different works of art (three different art forms, in fact).

* * *

From One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn:

The signal for the roll call was barely audible through the double-paned, frost-blurred windows. Shukhov heaved a sigh and stood up. He still had that feverish chill but evidently he wouldn't be able to skip work.

Vdovushkin reached for the thermometer and read it.

"H'm, neither one thing nor the other. Ninety-nine point two. If it had been a hundred it would have been clear to anyone. I can't exempt you. Stay behind at your own risk, if you like. The doctor will examine you. If he considers you're ill, he'll exempt you. If he finds you fit, he won't. Then you'll be locked up. You'd better go back to work."

Shukhov said nothing. He didn't even nod. Pulling his hat over his eyes, he walked out.

How can you expect a man who's warm to understand a man who's cold?

I read this book when I was in college, and that last line was one of several that I copied into my notebook. For this post, I was going to quote just that one line, before I realised that without context, it was liable to be misunderstood; 'warm' and 'cold' could also mean warm-hearted and cold-hearted. But here, of course, the 'warm' person is the less sensitive – Vdovushkin in his comfortable office – while Shukhov labours outdoors in the Siberian winter.

* * *

Ice Blocks on the Wazee Lake, a photography by Alessandra Sanguinetti from her Some Say Ice series.

* * *

From The Cooling, a weird and wonderful song by Reina del Cid:

It's the cooling that scares you the most.

Late Night Conversations

If You Are Bored, Draw

Since smartphones became a thing, boredom – in the sense of not having anything to do, as on a long drive or while waiting at the doctor's office – is relatively uncommon. Nevertheless, I sometimes find myself mindlessly scrolling – and that is a kind of boredom too, even if the brain is ostensibly stimulated.

This usually happens when I have free time, but not enough energy for more demanding tasks – chores such as cleaning my flat, or otherwise fun but relatively effortful activities like cooking a new dish or writing photography articles. So what to do at such times, other than mindlessly scrolling?

My friend's daughter Colette (age 7) made the following list for her own reference.

A truly excellent list.

When I'm already lacking motivation, coming up with new things to do is harder than, say, reaching for the phone. So I figure I should have such a list too, for ready reference.

Now what should my list contain? My brother is in a different country, and I'm too old to play erasers. But there are other things which I am generally up for, even when I'm not feeling very motivated or energetic, and which – unlike mindless scrolling – not only stave off boredom but actually make me feel better. "Draw" and "read book", for sure. What else? Take a shower, go for a walk, call my parents, do some Duolingo lessons, or stretching exercises and pushups. But my list is not as cool as Colette's.

Anyway, I've been trying to draw more regularly. It's something I always liked to do, but of late, drawing – and other hobbies for that matter – have yielded too much ground to photography. This is something I am trying to redress.

Here's a pen-and-ink drawing of a horseshoe crab, which we saw on a walk in the intertidal zone (that part of the coast which is underwater at high tide but exposed at low tide).

I always liked nature drawing, but I'm trying to expand into architecture. The sketch below is from my bedroom window.

I later tried panting it in watercolours, but the result was so bad I tore off the page and threw it away.

This is something I rarely do; even when I produce a drawing that I'm unhappy with, I tend to keep it as a record. But with this particular drawing, I reflected calmly for a few minutes, and decided I never want to see it again.

Luckily I took photos of the sketch. Maybe someday I'll attempt it again.

Another Dangerous Sheep

After seeing my post about dangerous sheep, Tommy recalled that his friend Kira "used to dress Fred the photogenic dog up as a sheep for Halloween and have him outside the house behind a sign like that."

Naturally I asked if there are photos, and much to my delight, there are.

Photos courtesy of Kira Od; many thanks for letting me share!

Protip: Spotify

Hitherto I had two posts with "Protip" in the title, but three is enough to call it a series (series are listed in my sidebar, right at the end).

As you may know if you're into internet lore, the term "protip" originates from the (sometimes laughably obvious) gameplay suggestions found in 1990s videogame magazines, and the parodies that they spawned ("PROTIP: To defeat the Cyberdemon, shoot at it until it dies.")

So yeah, take my protips with a pinch of salt. KnowYourMeme says the term is often used "to preface snarky, obvious, counterintuitive, or sometimes genuine advice for the novice", and I think that's as good a summary as any, of what I'm going for.

But this particular protip, for what it's worth, falls in the "genuine advice" category.

* * *

...or at least, it does if you're a Spotify user. If you're not, feel free to skip to the following sections which have general musings about music. Specifically, the tip is about Discover Weekly – Spotify's weekly mixtape, based on individual listening habits and tastes, which updates every Monday.

The algorimth, of course, is not perfect. My Spotify recommendations have a clear bias – female singer-songwriters in the indie/folk genre. Which is definitely something I listen to, but I also listen to a bunch of other stuff: classic rock, Bengali folk, western and Indian classical, and so on. In fact, I suspect Spotify thinks I'm a girl – possibly a sad girl, who likes other girls. Because it recently recommended this playlist to me:

But no matter. These days I get fewer "organic" recommendations than I did, for example, when I was in college. So I've been actively encouraging people to send me songs they like, and also exploring other ways to discover new music. Spotify Discover Weekly has been good for that.

Accordingly, for the last few months, I've been trying to listen to the playlist – which is usually around 1.5 hours long – about 3-4 times from start to finish. A week is enough time, because I listen on the bus, while doing chores, and so on. Before the week is out, I generally have a sense of which songs I like, and then I add them to a playlist called Spotify discoveries.

On average, I discover maybe one new song per week. This may not sound like a lot, but once I find a song I like, I can look up the artist or band, check out their other songs and albums. And saving them to a dedicated playlist is a nice way to keep track of the songs I found via Discover Weekly. Because come Monday, the old playlist is gone, replaced by a new selection of songs.

Speaking of Spotify features, sleep timer is a nice one too, and one I use from time to time (I set it for 30 minutes).

* * *

One of my favourite discoveries this year was a combination of algorithm and human. I found Rigoberta Bandini's Canciones de Amor a Ti via Discover Weekly (I've been learning Spanish for a couple of years now, so I sometimes listen to Spanish songs, and therefore get Spanish song recommendations).

I told my Spanish friend about my discovery, and she said "Rigoberta is amazing and unhinged. Her lyrics are out of this world." A solid endorsement.

She then recommended In Spain We Call it Soledad (which is good) and Así Bailaba (which is amazing).

Así Bailaba (which roughly translates to That's How She Danced) is a parody of Los Días de La Semana (The Days of the Week). The latter is an old children's song, which goes (my translation):

Monday before lunch
A girl went to play,
But she couldn't play
Because she had to iron.

That's how she ironed, that's how,
That's how she ironed, that's how...

Tuesday before lunch
A girl went to play,
But she couldn't play
Because she had to sew.

That's how she sewed, that's how,
That's how she sewed, that's how...

...and so on for the rest of the week.

Good for learning the days of the week, I guess – and in my case, for learning Spanish verb conjugations. But otherwise, a rather depressing and sexist song.

Rigoberta Bandini subverts the lyrics with mischievous glee:

Monday before lunch
A girl went to clean,
But she couldn’t clean
Because she had to dance.

That's how she danced, that's how,
That's how she danced, that's how...

I love the implication of compulsion: "She had to dance."

If you're into creative or sporty pursuits, you've probably felt the same way. The light hits an old brick wall at just the right angle, and you have to bring out your sketchbook or camera. A winter morning, fresh dew on a grassy field, and you have to rally your friends and kick around a football.

What a song.

Then again, how funny would it be if this were a girl who actually likes to clean, and her parents are forcibly sending her to dance class. Plot twist!

* * *

Speaking of songs about dance, me and my friend Kwang, who is a dancer, have a collaborative Spotify playlist, unimaginatively titled Dance songs. To be included, a song has to meet two criteria: (a) it has to be about dance, and (b) at least one of us have to like it. (If there are any songs about dance that you like, let me know in the comments; we will consider it for inclusion.)

Kwang, from a photoshoot back in August

Needless to say, Así Bailaba made the list.

This is also a good way to discover new music by the way: collaborative playlists (with or without a theme).

* * *

Speaking of collaboration, I love this lyric from Uncle John's Band by the Grateful Dead:

Think this through with me;
Let me know your mind.

The lines right after are wonderful too:

Whoa, oh, what I want to know
Is are you kind?

I enjoy thinking something through with another person – how to make a wooden rolling-pin (something I discussed with Tommy, although he did the majority of the thinking and all of the woodworking), high-school attempts with my friend Nitin to solve hard maths problems, and more recently, an environmental law article that I'm writing with my boss. We wrote the abstract the day before a conference deadline, in the back of a taxi returning from a funeral wake – both of us talking fast and me taking notes on my phone.

Even if I disagree with someone – on a question of politics or policy, for example – an invitation to think it through together can sometimes lead to a better understanding of where each of us is coming from, and avoid unnecessary animosity or escalation.

* * *

Speaking of escalation, I thought I'd update my list from a few months ago – songs which have "a subtle upping of the emotional stakes" (if you're not sure what the term means, I explained in my earlier post). Anyway, here are three more songs:

• Kris Kristofferson, Casey's Last Ride
Standin' in the corner, Casey drinks his pint of bitter
Never glancing in the mirror at the people passing by
(I've posted about this song before.)

• Bob Dylan, Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts
Rosemary right beside him, steady in her eyes
She was with Big Jim but she was leanin' to the Jack of Hearts

• Taylor Swift, All Too Well (10-minute version)
And you were tossing me the car keys
"Fuck the patriarchy" key chain on the ground
(Though I feel like using "fuck" is a kind of cheat-code when it comes to escalation; maybe it should be disqualified.)

I got a couple of song recommendations on that earlier post too. I guess that's yet another reason to keep blogging, even if sporadically: it's a nice way to discover new music and other things :)

Dangerous Sheep

There's a restaurant on my street which specialises in lamb soup. It's an old-school place – the shop-sign is in Mandarin only, and the staff speak little or no English. Outside, they have these three sheep, like lawn ornaments.

I pass the sheep almost every day, and they never fail to amuse. I honestly didn't think the tableau could be improved upon. But there's some renovation work going on, and the other day, on the bus back, I saw this sign and safety mesh.

Quick grab-shot on my phone from the upper storey of a double-decker bus, but at least we have a record. When I went back with my camera, the sign and netting had been removed. "Shoot it now," says Jay Maisel. "When you come back, it will always be different."

Miquailangelo Eggs

I've been meaning to try making marbled eggs for a while now, and having found a good deal on quail eggs at my local wet market, I asked my friend if she wanted to attempt the experiment together. She was charmed by photos on this recipe site; they look, as she put it, "like they were chiselled out of marble by Michelangelo."

"You mean Miquailangelo," I said.

So now we call them Miquailangelo eggs.

We boiled the eggs, gently cracked them with a teaspoon, then steeped them in black tea for two hours to get the marbled pattern.

 

Here is one such egg, in a salad with roasted sweet potatoes, cherry tomatoes and feta cheese.

Quail eggs – at least the ones I bought – require extreme delicacy in peeling, because the marbling is imprinted on the membrane, not on the albumen itself. And it's hard to peel the shell without damaging the membrane.

My friend could do it, but I couldn't – especially not when hangry. Don't peel eggs in hanger, she said.

I expanded on it (too hangry to peel eggs, but not too hangry to write parodies):

Slip inside

A finger in the shell—

No need to do it well,

Just crack the damn thing wide.