Have Some KitKat

Another update on the phone front. 

I have highly anticipated the release of Android 4.4 KitKat but to my slight frustration, phones like the Moto X got their OTA before my Nexus 4, which I think was a little unfair. 

But all that aside, its here, and it is beautiful. The changes appear to be subtle but are pretty immense once you're trying to settle into the ecosystem. That calm blue colour highlighting associated with Android since ICS all the way to JellyBean 4.3 is replaced with this super cool, straight out of sci-fi white.

The dialler app is one trippy motherfucker right now and its also got its own TrueCaller like implementation, so it searches for business' numbers if you're calling any.

That being said, my favourite feature, by far of the 4.4 update, is how the lockscreen shows full size album art of whatever is playing..

But the main feature of 4.4 that I have been drooling over since the pre-release photo of the Nexus 5 were the transparent navigation an notification bars.

Although, as I learned today, the swipe left on the homescreen to launch Google Now and the transparent bars are exclusive to the Nexus 5. 

I have a feeling this feature will probably roll out on future iterations and even if thats not true its only going to take Nova Prime a little while to get it. (In case you didn't know, you can sign up for a Nova Launcher Beta, install the .apk file over your existing Nova Launcher to take advantage of the transparent bars feature )

Now you may notice that my screen shot shows transparent notification and navigation bars. What is this sorcery, you might ask.


Well, take your lazy fingers to Google and search for an article that Android Police wrote about how they too were disappointed that the transparency is a Nexus 5 exclusive.
So they did something pretty impressive. They took out the Google Experience Laucher (thats what the stock launcher is called on the N5) and basically installed that apk on any other device running KitKat.

So far, the only compatibility issues are a non-centered Google search bar and I think that happens only on Nexus 7s

Feel free to leave a line, if you need some help

-

V

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Now Listening : Retrograde - James Blake
Now Reading : The Design of the UNIX Operating System - Maurice J Bach

Now Feeling : A little annoyed

Insanity Can Be Updated

I am in a semi-good mood, so if things seem extra happy, try and not shudder.
I took a trip to Bangalore and I had a good time. A good good time. I think I deserved the break and if what I got there is what I deserved then Im all good with that.
I write this instead of the first piece in a series that I had an idea for. But looking back on it I think its going to have to see the pages of my journal first, before I push my thought-child into the deep scary cyber-blue.
Its something I'd call Sundays with Mythili. Its about 2 people who don't know each other but try to tolerate one another, weekly. The title is inspired by a book I read by an author called Mitch Albom and Mythili is the first female name that popped into my mother's head. Any and all ideas that you'd dare give me, are welcome.

I'd like to start writing more fiction. Id like to make believable and equally unbelievable things merely beautiful, through the medium of my words. If thats a legitimately ok thing to do.

As for the title, I'd like you to picture yourself walking through an empty neighbourhood late at night. Not empty relating to people but empty here *points to your head*. Imagine if that entire junction of roads, mortar and cement were inhabited by the darkest members of your subconscious. Windows would shut as you walk past them. And cat eyes glistening under moonlight wouldn't be sources of fear but infinitesimal rays of sanity. Your lips would dry from the chill of all the lies you occur like chants. And your eyes would constantly adjust to the increasing darkness.
I'd like you to stop walking now. And look around. Look around and find that among all the insanity and craze. And acknowledge that things can indeed be darker. Look at the moonlight diffusing through the wastes of the night and realize that your own insanity can continue to grow. Continue to manifest into something a lot more than an occasional retreat. It could turn into who you really are.
And if you don't find that scary, then I think I'd find you scary. I'd probably have a good time with you and everything, but I'd be scared of you nevertheless.


I recently went to a pub where Baiju Dharmajan performed. I thought I'd never see him perform the songs of Motherjane before I breathe my last but it feels great to check something off my bucket list.


Until next time
-
V
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Now Listening : Two - Ratatat
Now Reading : The Interpreter of Maladies - Jhumpa Lahiri
Now Feeling : OK

Insanity Amongst Other Things

Greetings and wishes for unwished occassions my ever faithful audience. I am of the opinion that there is no apologizing to be done for my absence over the past few weeks. I doubt I was missed and I hope I can bring back that writing mode I ever so love. The exams are yet to be done with but the ones that are over have taken their toll on me. Im happy they're over and I think thats all I wish to speak of 'em.

What follows is a short story I made in my mind a few mins ago. Written at a stretch with no drafts and reviews. Dont judge. Dont hate. Congratulate.




1.15am
About the time when the drunks and the not so drunks begin leaving the crowded bar and head to the wife. Whether they get a banging or get to do some banging will never be known. She herself never bothered. Cleaned the glasses. Cleared the plates and got on with life. Deep down inside, it was the picture of that '69 Mustang and the joint she kept in her locker that kept her going.Possibly it was some psychological problem that a doctor would cure with a hundred million sedatives and an ever-more effective bill. But to her opinion, everyone had some shit messed up in their heads and it often was a matter of perspective to realize who would really stab you while you sleep and who wouldn't.
And then he came in.
Oh yes, straight out of one of those magazines, she had never seen this man come into the bar before. Never seen a man like him before, in fact. She had never felt the kiss and warmth of a man for a very long time. She never knew what it felt like to have a man celebrate her as a perennial festival and not as a singular evening's trophy. C'est la vie, someone had told her. C'est la vie Je ne veut pas vivre is what she wanted to tell that someone. But not all that is thought is said in this funny world we call home.
He sat right across her, she behind the counter, eyes fixed on him and his, fixed on the TV screen.
"Jack. Make it a double", he said. Simple enough order if it had been another man. And it would've bin given in the same old dusty glasses used for eons. But no, this was no ordinary man. One of the new glasses, a little more than a double and a professionally cut lemon wedge perfectly placed so as to not hinder the first and the perfect sip. But the person she served was no usual at this bar and neither was he paying attention to all the signs this woman was so subtly conveying.
In a matter of seconds, "Reload", he said.
Same routine. Unnoticed, obviously.
2 seconds and 2 shots afterward, he asked,"I've always thought the bartender would wonder why a man comes in  late and orders more shots than you're allowed to give this time in the night. You, however do not seem to share the opinion." 
Blood flowing faster than all the alcohol she had served, she was at a loss for words. The handsome brute spoke. He was not just a morose tank. He was a talking morose tank. Christmas does come early once in a while.
Doing the same thing any woman does when talking to a man she has a thing for, "Uh. Okay. Why you drinkin' so much pal?"
Not overdone, she thought.


He smiled. Not a giving smile. A sinister, almost borderline grieved smile.
"You see that woman on the tele? That Martha J?"
"Yeah"
"I asked that woman to marry me 4 nights back. She said yes."
"Oh my God. Im so sorry"
Why was she sorry? Martha J was featured in the news report about her death.
"No you're not. You havent done anything , why must you be sorry?
It is a shitty situation when you hear bout someone's death and there is no bloody right way to respond. Eh. Who gives a...?" 
5th Reload.
"Suicide is what the police have confirmed. I got me a text from her the night before she did it. Telling me not to mourn her and to consider life as a new page. Funny bit is that the police never found her phone. But we were no spies or important people for a suicide to be staged. Maybe she threw it. Maybe she didn't. Im just gonna have to live without that knowledge. Although, living at all seems to be a harder task now."
"You gotta hang in ther' honey. Things will change. I know it."
"Says who? Say, whats yer name Missy?"
"Hope."
"Thats as ironic as life can get. 
I better get going now, lass. Got the rest of my life to brood. This is for the drinks and for being the first person in many to have not asked me if I did that to the woman who would've been the mother of my children."
"I can't take your money sir. Its alright"
"You see this bunch of notes? Comes to about 15 bucks. I first met Martha when she was ahead of me in line in a branch of a fast food joint. Their credit card machine was down and she didn't have no money. I was hungry and I offered to pay for her meal. After the customary formalities and involuntary denial she agreed to it and promised she'd pay it back. That's how we started dating. Then, a day after she killed herself, I got a letter from her addressed to me, written on the day she did it. It contained this wad of notes. Now why would she do that eh?
Did she want me to think that the whole thing was just a prolonged mindfuck to pay me back a measly 15 bucks? That I was supposed to forger her like I forgot that she owed me money?
This money won't let me sleep missy. You keep it. You look like someone who knows how to use it."
"Er. Thanks. Where will you go now?"
"Home. Or whatever is left of it"
And he left. And she never saw him again. She almost considered the whole thing being a dream.


Hope told this story a total of a hundred times before her death as a tool for inspiration, strengthening relationships and as her last words to the man who held her as she died. She valued it more than any heirloom that she inherited. And cherished it beyond measure.
But her story was incomplete. She never saw the tele, after our man left, showed that Martha was killed in a car accident. And nothing to do with suicide.




Back "home", he enters and hits the bed.
"Hey honey, how did the class go?", asked his wife. Yes, his wife.
"Life changing Martha Darling. Life-changing. By the way, don't you owe me money from the first time we met?"








If the intricacies and the underlying message of this story failed to reach you, leave a word and I shall explain.


________________________________________________________
Got one exam left and I hope it goes well.
Played Holi like a maniac today. Cheers to Daddy Long Legs for that.
Stay safe and don't drink and drive. However horrible you are, I think you dont deserve to die in a space as tight and enclosed as your car.

Goodnite Folks,
V










Now Listening:
Payaliyaa - Dev D (Trippy song, check it out)
Den Standiga Resan - Opeth
High - James Blunt            
Now Reading : Brisingr - Christopher Paolini (The fourth book, Inheritance is out in November and I dont think I'll survive the curiousity!)
Now Feeling : Happy and slightly hungry.        

Library

This was written at 1:42 AM 01-01-2011

God bless Notepad. Without which my life wouldn't be the same.
Morning folks.
Raise your hand ( or leave a comment) if you dont like New Year wish texts/emails.
I mean I appreciate your concern and your seemingly genuine wish for me to have a prosperous new year and success in all my "endeavours" but sue me if I dont give a shit. Endeavours, really? Im 17 mate. Biggest challenge in my life is an overrated exam and an unsatisfied crowd.
But if there ever comes a new year where I dont get all these texts then, I confess, I will be disappointed. Half the story of my life folks, disagreeing with thse existence of something and heartbroken by the inexistence of it. Ok, maybe heartbroken is too strong a word. But then again, what word aint strong enough when used correctly, eh? The other half being the side of the coin that faces the table. Question is, wait, there is no question.


Once again I confess, I may not be in my senses. Just a weeeeeee bit in another time and place maybe. Floating on imaginary waters and flying through imaginary clouds. But these clouds seem to be playing Floyd, Guetta and Incubus. Yes. Awesome indeed. Maybe you've bin there too, O Wise One?



I was to be at a party today but it dint really feel like my thing. New years among others has always been a fail fr me. Big plans, nothing turnout. Small plans and too many turnout. So here I am after a good dinner, in my room, staring at the dark skies with my entrance to the alternate reality. Yes, the Floyd and Guetta one mentioned above. I enjoy peace and quiet when Im floating and hence the title.

But all that shit apart, Tis the season to be jolly, Falalalala la la lala.

I think for once in a change, I know why I wrote this. This will remind for days to come that good nights are not that hard to find. That new year will come only once in a year (yes, i needed to be reminded of that).


I was tuned into Oman 90.4 Radio for the New Year's countdown. Some really funny people who call. Lalu, this is aimed at you. Next time, if you cant hear what hes saying , dont bother calling, yeah?
That dude started talking about his family when asked of his 2010 resolutions. Go figure.


But whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, with open arms and open eyes, yeah.
Whatever tomorrow brings I'll be there, I'll be there.


And maintenant to those who care,
Have a good year.
Also Drive Safe.

-
V


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"Don't hate, Congratulate!" - A certain blog I read.

"Godablessooo" - DJ Faiz on Radio Sultanate of Oman 90.4

Now Listening :
Dont stop the pop - DJ Earworm
Bumpy Ride - Mohomboi
Now Reading : Artemis Fowl : The Atlantic Complex - Eoin Colfer