tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-265514972024-03-13T23:46:19.926+05:30White NoiseWhite noise is a random signal (or process) with a flat power spectral density. In other words, the signal's power spectral density has equal power in any band, at any center frequency, having a given bandwidth. White noise is considered analogous to white light which contains all frequencies.ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-19555946591734612142012-12-02T00:35:00.002+05:302012-12-02T00:37:08.329+05:30Unhurt
Unloved
Untouched
Unfucked
Undrunk by your steady gaze
Unsought
Unused
Ununmasked
Unfound
Unsung
Unsaved by your fetal god
Unsurprised
Unwritten to
Unprotected
Unchained
Unmounted
Unpenetrated, pure, virgin
Untorn
Unworn
Uncracked
Ununraveled
Unjust?
No, unhurt
ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-50920511754458600232011-07-05T10:46:00.000+05:302011-07-05T10:46:38.610+05:30Bhag bhag DK Bose DK BoseSitting at the Domestic Airport in Bombay waiting for my flight to take off to take me to the capital for THE monsoon wedding and realizing I haven't blogged in a while. Whattodo, we are lazy like this only? Enjoying free Wifi in India! Nandita Das is telling me to save the trees from the TV. Gulamnabi Azad is lamenting the increased number of homosexuals in India [sic?]. DK Bose's heavy guitar ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-75633447921972082772011-03-20T12:10:00.001+05:302011-03-20T12:10:45.886+05:30Mama's Brown Rug
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The little feather dustSlow dance around usBacklit by a ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-50545585227638252712010-12-08T06:58:00.000+05:302010-12-08T06:58:06.285+05:30My AmieSambaman is snoring in the bed next to mine, singing Anjan Duttta's Bondhu in Portugueshe in his sleep. Anjan is serenading us, alternating with Paco de Lucia between bouts of wine - a 2007 Bordeaux on a tequila sunset over the Miami skyline. The vantage point is room 1424 of the French Hotel Sofitel, where everyone wishes you bonsoir with Cuban accents as you run into the hotel lobby ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-3442171832036431062010-11-20T15:30:00.000+05:302010-11-20T15:30:01.267+05:30Rant Till You PantI am a freak - a raging lunatic right now. Slept like 4 hours last night. Had to stay awake in the office. Injected myself with some double espresso Starbucks elixir (branded bullshit I know, but what the hell there was nothing else around, so don't judge me) and now I still can't sleep. It's 12:32! You must think I am working hard - slogging away like some nymphomaniac workaholic prostitute, butArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-61281969006306306892010-11-18T16:13:00.000+05:302010-11-18T16:13:30.907+05:30Willie & TerryWillie is tall and gaunt and likes to be alone. He is one of those guys who looks effortlessly good in thin ties and slim black pants. He wears pointed shoes and has a generally antiseptic look. Terry is tall and double chinned and bearded with that perpetual smile of satisfaction escaping from the corners of his mouth. He smokes pot, dines and wines all the time. Women don't fancy him and don't ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-44813849253199863072010-09-22T11:02:00.000+05:302010-09-22T11:02:13.181+05:30MacKenna's GoldSteely cold blue misty night. Two riders approach on dark blood-nosed horses - twins, the horses that is, not the men. The men seek locks of MacKenna's gold tresses from her hidden areas - locked away and guarded by her blond bearded man. The riders unsheathe their scrolls and ready for a duel. The creatures of the night settle in their front row thrones, chewing on the carcasses and sipping the ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-4582816815427983802010-08-08T12:37:00.000+05:302010-08-08T12:38:15.273+05:30Seven O'ClockI hate seven o'clock - every day, each day till the last stop, which seems especially far away even when you are just whizzing by those mid-twenties stations. The food vendors call out to me like some Japanese scented, mute old Madame in a rundown Parisian whorehouse, trying to appeal to the hunger somewhere deep in me. And then she brings out the shapely glass maidens, of all sizes and colors, ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-51862797381898746582010-07-16T00:38:00.000+05:302010-07-16T00:38:31.641+05:30The Lizard Moon DanceAn endless desert of gray stonesBlue and cold under a giant moon Two parched lips seeking warmthAmong two fertile angel breastsNot even wild animals in sightSleepless creatures of the nightFornicating under gray stonesWild cries and nasty moans Begetting uglier offspringsFor the frigid arid worldLucifer waits and watchesFrom his blue lunar throneHa ha ha every time we conceiveAfter countless ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-5047407797973566232010-06-07T04:42:00.000+05:302010-06-07T04:42:52.514+05:30Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas - Part DeuxThey are back! After a hiatus of almost a year - older, but hardly any wiser, ArSENik and Sambaman pack like the Wolfman and a woman, respectively. Sambaman explains he needs a specific brand of shampoo for his thick hair, rubbing salt into ArSENik's receding hairline, and that they don't make them in little airline packs. ArSENik cooks up a controversy between the shampoo manufacturers and ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-4409613032987153372010-06-04T23:30:00.000+05:302010-06-04T23:30:29.045+05:30Poached Gondolas on Tibetan CurryI got up this morning and wanted to write - not try to be coherent and check myself on turning points and character descriptions, but just write. So, here I am - shirking away from all the responsibilities that come with a glorious Friday morning. Have to make a million calls, coordinate schedules, complete my ugly storyboards, send random faxes to people in undoubted positions of authority, but ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-837784820185272382010-05-13T11:51:00.000+05:302010-05-16T00:18:10.257+05:30Sweet SixteenThe clock ticked ahead shyly for eternityAnd I feel a new prickle under my arms.Daddy, I need a mic for my sweet sixteen!I wanna sing to all my friends about Tony.
Tony is pink and hairy and jumps on troublesLike they were three mice stealing from meAs if I were a Nazi dairy running very dry,Forever after Peter and Michael, before him.
Oh, Daddy, Tony is sick and I need a micTo tell my friends ifArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-17314048894116399412010-04-29T15:31:00.000+05:302010-04-29T15:31:13.198+05:30Arachnophobia at 2:14 AMAnother sleepless night. Another forced technological intervention. Facebook at 2:14 am, hoping to fall asleep on the banalities of others' lives, when suddenly - a spider - black, but subtly back lit by the spill from the laptop monitor against a dull, yet rough white wall. Jesus! Arachnophobia past mid-night. Surely, there must be a law against this kind of behavior somewhere, but not here, ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-47413018185702900422010-04-08T14:52:00.000+05:302010-04-08T15:17:11.122+05:30Ladies and Gentleman, please fasten your seatbelts - tonight's meal - BBQ-ed medulla oblongataI am a blind pilot, passing over some ice-topped mountains in Greenland. I can't see anything of course, but if I could, it would be like a dessert cooked in a household of Irish-English heritage, if such a thing is at all discernible. But there lies the quandary, because the smell at the time would just be stale, metallic, reproduced oxygen - your staple fare at 3000 feet above air. And what ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-7046120263320268232010-03-12T03:03:00.000+05:302010-03-12T03:03:38.166+05:30Short Film 'Six Women'Please check out the website for my thesis short 'Six Women'.
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1631757069/funding-for-production-of-short-dramedy-six-women
ThanksArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-25357778632761292972010-02-07T13:04:00.000+05:302010-02-07T13:10:30.084+05:30Stolen MomentsA mouthful of overheard gibberish water cooler Arabic, those indecipherable yet beautiful conversations in the barbershop, the imperfect tip of a McDonald's $1 vanilla ice-cream cone, drive-through desserts on three full stomachs, liquid body soap, revolting against this to maternal authority, the magnificence of Cirque Du Soleil's "Love" in Vegas, clandestine "Please Please Me" on the black ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-87105052765428481222010-01-30T14:55:00.000+05:302010-05-16T00:18:50.661+05:30Your InheritanceYou like to wear your hair shortAnd your mother is in full cohort,Having forgotten our matted daysOf picketing for Rosa through the haze.
Your little girl wears tight jeans todayAs blue as the free misty ocean sprayWhich wet the hems of our bell bottomsBefore the man jailed us and got 'em.
You shout against animals and ozoneAnd while I may not have an iPhoneCount me in when you sign your ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-51664652620119150892010-01-10T12:11:00.000+05:302010-01-10T12:11:18.728+05:30SapphireOriginally published at PFC: http://passionforcinema.com/sapphire/ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-24700641201026594552009-12-30T13:21:00.000+05:302009-12-30T13:22:06.041+05:30ClaudiaIt was a usual hungry chilly morning
When you waltzed in through the window
Wading through the specks of sunlit dirt
With pure lyrical Felliniesque fluidity.
Then you changed into something rich
Red like the torn petal of a discarded rose
And we made love in one another's sweat
Scared to close our eyes lest we woke up.
And then the moon appeared in a starless sky
And pulled you away from my ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-59735206170494103802009-12-13T16:54:00.000+05:302009-12-13T16:54:26.401+05:30RainI love it when it rains. And no, it's not just the smell of the wet earth, because I live in a concrete jungle. Like most recent things, it is aesthetic in nature. And not just any damn drizzle, but I am talking about mother pouring rains like the kind Maharashtrian farmers pray for. The roads are wet, throwing back at us our very own luminance - the red, amber, green of the traffic signals, ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-47330049624606229562009-12-03T22:51:00.001+05:302009-12-03T22:52:12.675+05:30Classic Ménage á Trois – Jules et JimOriginally published at PFC here: http://passionforcinema.com/classic-menage-a-trois-jules-et-jim/ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-86434730466224964772009-12-03T11:49:00.000+05:302009-12-03T11:49:38.408+05:30Thank You Dear Amnesia"too many locations", "too little money", "not enough time", "too many characters", "too many scenes"! Self doubt raised its ugly head in the midst of all the nay sayers, and hung around for a couple of days. Consecutive winter afternoons of searching for that elusive self-confidence in vain, resulting self-loathing and that sinking, helpless feeling that you aren't good enough to swim with the ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-35970128238766986332009-11-26T23:59:00.000+05:302009-11-27T00:00:31.567+05:30A Social ExperimentA fun little social experiment conducted in LA's busy Hollywood Boulevard.
ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-9371408817200200092009-11-25T01:32:00.001+05:302009-11-25T01:32:41.252+05:30A VignetteAs he inhaled, the quiet of the corn field let him hear the little searing of his joint, introducing a little dash of vermillion into his otherwise hibernating subconscious. The sound brought back nostalgia-dripped memories to his otherwise arid existence. He remembered the first time he was here, back when hair had first sprouted on his upper lip, led by the obese, experienced hand of the ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26551497.post-83527595423185456032009-11-23T06:42:00.000+05:302009-11-23T06:42:22.026+05:30Anna Karina in B&WThe search was unsuccessful. Even something as vast as the world wide web was unable to throw me the face I was seeking for my desktop. I wasn't asking for too much, was I? - just the right sized image of Anna Karina's sad mascaraed eyes in her expressionless face encased by her short hair in B&W in the just watched Godard film 'Vivre Sa Vie'. Sometimes I wonder if I can ever write a single ArSENikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09772597502937491090noreply@blogger.com0