For last few years I have tried to get my hands on Sandman omnibus, may be initially it was a dream to get hands on it at bookstores in India. Yet in my last visit to india, thankfully there were enough bucks to burn but then there were no bookstores left in Bangalore, and to say it came as a real shocker to me would be a understatement. Here I was wandering across streets of Bangalore, unable to digest the fact that bookstores were diminishing and flipkarts were on rise. What a sad plight, and probably for the same reason I ended up buying Sea of poppies, pirated – a fact which even now am not proud of. Yet here it is lying in backpack, with cheap quality pages and often missing texts and yet I read it, like a limping cat who has given in to his limp.
Coming back to Gaiman, yeah last time I was tindering it with a girl and she said its okay , and that she was more eagerly waiting for ‘fortunately, the milk’. I hopelessly clinged to Mr. Ghosh in my black backpack attic, for all others Joyces and Camus were lost in dark confines of a closed upper tier of new cupboard. They sat their lamenting the fact that he gave up on Ulysses – again, and all that reminded him of Mr. Bloom was a song by Franz Ferdinand. It was a cold night, not particularly cold as its been in US, but yes one could have safely placed this as cold night by Singapore standards. The old unwanted haze was back(again). He went through his the last email- that proximity startup in Barcelona, sometime cold calling helps in startup world. He had a huge task at hands, having signed up for an event and he would have to cajole his latent writer out of his hibernation. He did not even remembered how long it has been since he wrote something with a calm heart and cool mind. He specifically invested in shiny steel case – fruit for the purpose of writing instead the bibliophile lost to cinephile which lost to the techphile. There were some wonderful movies though, and unfinished Fincher’s house of cards. Oh BTW watch anything by http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0002191/?ref_=tt_ov_dr, rust and bones, une prophete or ‘the beat that my heart skipped’. Watch them for beautiful Marion Cotillard and art of Tahar Rahim. Thanks Atul.
I might as well recommend Goldspot’s new album , (not so new now), Aerogramme, since its running in the background. Oh by the way the feeling when lay supine at the pool bottom, everything is static blur, all blue and watch air bubbles going up and up until they hit water horizon. Yawn …coz’ its always better than saying the end.