And then I slowed, grew confident and lost my hunger to impress, to keep my little life raft connected to everyone in every far corner with my charming turn of phrase. I now look back and realise I cannot write like I used to. That hunger has died and my skin has thickened. If I meet a girl I like more than any girl before, I can't write for her better than I did those years ago.
A note I once wrote to someone:
______ dear _________ ,
Delighted as I am that you delight in my correspondence, I was very relieved
to receive your mail...for I had feared that my e-mail had instilled
the fear of Hari in you (far worse than fear of any god.)
Yes, yes, you are definitely my sunshine in this dreary dark winter.
I am saddened to hear of your plight in the wilds of ______.
But (you must excuse me saying this)
I could see this clearly in your future when we parted.
the college boys...it is definitely the college boys.
Leave a woman of sensitivity and refinement with them and their unrestrained energy and enthusiasm will wreak havoc upon her soul.
I know just the cure for you...
a sensitive man of delicate temperament with a certain philosophical air (although lately
I have seen him embrace the earthy and physical with a vigour.)
He is the balm for your wounded soul
Fear not for he trusts my judgement in women and I have spoken to him often of your malady.
But how shall we arrange this? Oh wait, perhaps in your European sojourn, you might visit Copenhagen...we can confer
in his chambers.
Fear not while taking this step,
for my spirit will accompany you
always....
Your dear friend
vesuvio
------------------------------------------------------
and now for something completely different...
____________ dear ____________,
poetic-shmoetic whatever... your letter came at the
perfect time...I
was starting to die inside...to quote Frank Sinatra,
Where have all the young girls gone?
gone to young men everywhere,
when will they ever learn?
when will they ever learn?
all the women of the last semester have gone
(so have the men but who
cares about them...)
Every delightful turn, every little wave of the
hand, every...even the
sneer, the smile that brought me lasting cheer,
are only to live on in my mind.
what shall I do?
flirtatious, you say? me, never! I am just a boy,
unpracticed in this
art, my fungers unburned, my soul untouched. Yet, if
there is any glory for me, it will be in the service of woman and
not philosophy.
Philosophy is for dried up leaves...
To put it more bluntly,
Me tarzan!!!
.
.
.
woman good!!!
.
.
.
Philosophy...hmm...well okay...
------------------------------------------------------
I know you are starting to get tired...but
(facing the audience)
will the real Hari please stand up!!!
Hari stands up and goes up to the podium, adjusts
his judo suit, takes off the Bill Gates spectacles and put on the really
cool John Lennon ones (...also worn a few years before by a
small timer called Gandhi from India)
He then looks over into the distance,
out of the window,
into the horizon,
towards the New World
and speaks
(as if in a normal conversation)
in a calm level voice
(no one else was in the room)
Hi ____________,
I have attached a picture of me by the computer of
the architecture assistant (he is not in the picture.)
I have a tonne of responsibility over here and have
been working real hard over the last few months. We have got 30 new
machines and I had arranged them (with the AD Assistant's help,) in an
interesting configuration in the lab. But that got vetoed...so
we are back to boring. If you want I can mail you a picture of what
I feel a lab should look like and perhaps you can tell me changes
you think that might be helpful...this is my peeve of the moment...
I am going to be in Denmark until mid-june. Will you
be in ____ in the summer? I couldn't quite make out from the letter
whether you were going to have an internship in Europe or you wanted
to have one.
Anyway, I hope this letter has been delightfully flirtatious, funny,
and schizoprenic enough to make you want to
respond...
yours flirtatiously
Steve Jobs
Afer saying this, Hari strips off his judo suit and
displays a host of
fine feathers...
(the existence of which was known only to a select
category of very
very [and I mean very!]
beautiful women)
...to the entire hall (empty.)
He walks calmly over to a window and attempts to fly
.
.
.
.
unbeknownst to him, there is actually a very well
polished glass window before him.
Flapping, he crashes out of the
window distributing feathers everywhere.
While flapping and falling,
he smiles and wonders
where all the beautiful women have gone...
flap flap
write soon
the shattered hearted young lad
P.S: Regarding the upcoming sun bazaar...I have one
sunshine...my only sunshine...no bazaar will shine before her.
No comments:
Post a Comment