Monday, July 31, 2006

Of comic books and words

I think amongst the many languid and typical characters that can be taken out of the American hall of fame comic book series can only be Garfield. Of course, if you've seen the movie you and I will both have a wonderful understanding of how it fails and disappoints the age-defying fans of this atrocious cat.
My father (who adores Homer as well) introduced me to this Monday hating cat, the one who kicks its his keeper's ass and beings about life as starnge as it can be.
It was as cool as it could be, and I remember back there in school. How one had to be woken up in mornings to run rounds for cross-country practice. It was a good hell. Mondays were extremely depressing, and while running I would feel how fucked up the week was going to be. My brother and I believed that Garfield's voice in the cartoon programme sounded a bit like Jim Morrison. If you'd put actually listen carefully, you'd be surprised.
I grew fond of Homer as well. And if one could put a face to what or how-on-earth sort of questions of the American cultures, The Simpsons could define them so very well.
I also met the other Calvin (not the Renaissance dude) but the little one which had an imaginary friend Hobbes. And good lord, holidays seemed so awesome then. The framework of my childhood was filled such idiosyncracy -- which of course, I thoroughly enjoyed.
But speaking of childhood, I greatly enjoyed the fascinating world that Enid Blyton knitted for me. There could be no perefct imagination than her. From the magic wishing chair, to goblins, faraway tree, and what great things.
I recently watched Sin City, a step much advanced for graphic kind. I bet if Shakespeare, would curse himself of being born in the wrong time.
And yes of course, how can one forget about Asterix and Obelix and Tintin comics, some of the most brillian humour etched in them.
Growing up is a truly awesome time, even the slightest falls don't hurt that much in retrospect. I enjoyed somethings so sevrely that now perhaps its difficult to refrain from them.
And now I'm a child a again when it comes to the world of books. There was a professor, I read about, who had about a million books in his library. One day one of his meek-looking students asked him whether he had a read all the books in the world. Without even turning towards him from his book, he replied: "It'll take me two complete life time to read all the books I want to read".
I believe that man, and I know that it'll take him much more than that. Apparently the student of his became quite a well-read chap. It just goes to show what all there's to be read to be a so-called genius.
But one thing's for sure, some of the greatest pleasures I've obtained from reading. Venturing into this fancy world where man and women of all kinds have scripted life into beings that will breathe the dust and termites of forgotten libraries and bookshelves. Longer than truth it self. But I deeply respect Mr Blair in that sense -- Okay, George Orwell -- there is a time to come where bullshit would be considered as truth. Well said, sir.
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