A blog for no one

I have spent the last hour listening to this song on repeat. I'm sorry I'm posting this Youtube version cause the audio is frankly appalling but its the only way I could share it with the rest of you. There are a few songs somewhere out there in the world that have the power to slowly take control of your mind, dictate your emotional state of being and have absolutely no regard for your feelings. Much like a cranky, whiny, little brat throwing all his expensive, breakable toys out of the pram. You could slap the little twerp or give him a good telling to, but strangely, you really can't do much with a tune once its started. If someone told me that this was one such song, then I wouldn't argue...or perhaps something in the song instructs me not to...

Rolling Stones Editor, David Fricke comments --

It goes in circles and it climbs but it never seems to reach anywhere. And Eric doesn't do a whole lot. He plays this chord progression which is actually very chunky and is again very funky in a way. And Jacks vocals is very powerful -- very operatic and, again, climbing, you know? Its, as if, he's trying to reach something and is not quite getting there. The secret power of 'We're Going Wrong' is Ginger's drumming because all of the action of the song is underneath Jack and Eric. Its in the tom rolls. When Cream did that song at the Albert Hall, and I saw three of those shows, every night that was the killer.

I guess we reach a point in our lives where things must change. Perhaps this is because everything seems to have its own 'Best before' date. But change is not always for the better and, more often than not, accommodating change is an ordeal in itself. I am not talking about Obama's promise of 'Change', however, if you aimed your bayonet at my throat and demanded an opinion, I'd quote Wenger when he says --

“What made everybody happy in his election was that nobody knows what Obama's ideas are, but the system has brought someone to the top just because they have the quality and nothing else. I think that is right.”

Honestly speaking, the world don't know what's in store but there seems to be a promise for a brighter future. *waffle alert* Objectively speaking, Dubya is most definitely not a tough gig to follow so America would've done well even if they'd elected Jeremy Clarkson as President. Yes -- The Top Gear guy! And for those of you with doubts, please read the Clarkson Manifesto. *at ease, soldier* But what would my blog posts be without a little waffle? Largely blank with a sprinkling of post-modernist bleh, I'm guessing. But for the moment, waffle aside, when I speak of change I'm talking about it at an individual and also, a personal level.

The greatest thing about college was that it introduced me to a whole set of real characters. Perhaps introduced is too civilised a word -- exposed would be more like it. There was this chap who slapped the Grinch in the corridor accidentally within the first month. Another one answered a question on Hamlet with an illustrated dialogue between Papa Hamlet and Baby Hamlet. There were also generous smatterings of Mama Hamlet, Sister Hamlet and, reportedly, Doggie Hamlet. Another one, aptly named The Kong, was a queer mix of Jughead Jones, Big Moose and C.M.O.T. Dibbler. You simply had to name your tormentors and Kong would be more than willing to inflict pain and suffering at the rate of Rs.250/- (or a 7 course meal with double helpings of everything) per rib cracked. With the message of peace embodied in all the weed and alcohol floating freely around campus, Kong would've done a whole lot better if he offered his services to campus politics. Yes, I mean The Judean People's Front and The People's Front of Judea. Also, amongst the Judean Hillbillies was the diminutive aneelirh who consistently walked out of every exam 15mins to half an hour before it got over. She will tell you that she ran out of things to write about but her scores would argue otherwise! There was one called Bob because...well...her head went *bob* *bob* *bob* all the time. In the far corner, wearing a black t-shirt with an elephant walking a tight rope was the one they called Deep. He was to be visited twice by the incorrigible, invisible, single Su-borrowing, spelling disaster -- El Nuntu. Gah!...Nostalgia attack! rat-a-tat-a-tat-rat-a-tat-rat-a-tat-a-tat (i.e. sounds of blazing machine-guns for those who haven't read Tintin comics) Man the hatches! Every man for himself!...*sigh*

Unthinkable as it seemed during the first few months, some of them became very, very good friends and I miss them now that our Judean adventure is over. I guess I'm dabbling with a few universal truths here but it just that I feel this way sometimes. The music is still playing in background and Ginger is still going strong with those now overtly familiar tom rolls.

Jack Bruce, the man who wrote the song, says --

It has become deeper to me than when I first wrote it. Songs take on their own lives, they become entities. They disappear and then they come back. They're like kids or something. They change.

Well, perhaps just like the song that disappears and reappears, so will some of the people we've left behind now. And just maybe the future will find all of us with another set of even stranger acquaintances who'd make us feel right at home -- like one of their own, dragging us onwards , kicking and screaming to another chapter in our lives. But until then, we're allowed to walk along dusty roads, kicking small stones about and brooding over change, aren't we?