55Friday: The “Why Can’t I Be You?” Edition

Posted on by

As I sniffle, sneeze and snuffle while unlocking the venue for our weekly nanofiction orgy, I find myself feeling mildly guilty for posting this six hours later than I usually do. I know readers on my home coast (where it is barely 6am) aren’t bothered by such tardiness, but mutineers here…well, sorrrrry.

While I normally choose a theme on my own, this week I had some help from co-blogger/fellow Colonial Sajit and a few of the readers who commented on one of his posts, which expressed how describing any brown art with desi spices was gag-worthy.

I must say, whatever resistance I had to the “write something like you’re a clueless reviewer, thus abusing ‘spices’ in every possible way” concept melted thanks to that Badmash of ours, who can get me to agree to anything, especially when he brings up one of the curries I love most (though my mother makes it with potato and not fish, natch) AND the ingredient they always discovered me sneaking nibbles of in the pantry:

Sajit, I agree. Anna, how ’bout it – 55s as angry as meen curry and as sharp as imli! 🙂

Mmmm, imli/puli. Know what else put me in a good mood? You might not, since a good number of you don’t read comments, which is sad when our readers go above and beyond rapid-fire ranting and write something priceless. Bongsie? Here’s lookin’ at YOU, kid:

I have perfected the art of knowing the Sepiauthor by reading the first line and no more. I’m flawless with Abhi, Manish and Anna but I need more work when it comes to Sajit, Vinod and Ennis. This was a CLASSIC Abhism:
“Since I am both an outdoor enthusiast and a lover of outdoor “gear,” I subscribe to the Adventure 16 newsletter.” (quotes mine)
This sums up his role as the MAN of the house and also demonstrates somewhat eccentric reading material – a must for any blogger. Great topics for Abhi to post about: WAR, POLITICS, WAR POLITICS, FIGHTING, MACHINES, SPACE, CAPITAL LETTERS, ROCKS and RAW MEAT.
Manish is more esoteric and loads up the sarcasm.[linky]

He normally references some funky desi artisan which splits the audience in half. Some say “Hmm, interesting, didn’t know about that guy” the other half say “Damn Manish, I heard about that dude like YEARS AGO and now everyone knows about him thanks to the Vij Magnet.” And the other Mutineditors have to admit, Manish’s titles are the best. But before I sound too gay…
Anna is harder to put a finger on (cor blimey guvnor!) If the line contains ‘Mutineers’, it’s almost a guarannatee it’s AnAnna post. If the opening para is a dense block of text – the poster’s name begins with ‘a’. Anna’s kind of a bit like Manish in some ways, but just as you’re reading it you think “Whoa, this is too gay for Manish, he’s more…mannish. Ah, it must be Anna”. So there you have it, a gay Manish = Anna.
I hope this service has been helpful for you. I know I’ve enjoyed myself.[linky]

Best. Comment. EVER. 😀 Surely you agree. So this is what I decree for today’s theme: write like you are someone else. The only two requests are that they be someone we’re all aware of (i.e. Miss Limn, Abhi, Razib, Rushdie) OR that you make like Sajit’s commenters and pretend you are a hack describing something brown. Got that?

This can actually be an excellent way to free yourself of inhibition; I remember doing this in my AP English class and EVERYONE ended up enjoying it far more than they thought they would. It’s liberating to type with another’s fingers. 😉 Make like Michiko herself and do so below, or leave a link to where we can find similar, Danke.

:+:

Title Backstory:

Really, if I have to tell you who/what that is from, I will keeeel you. I will say that it is the third song I ever danced to with a boy. Sigh.

Okay, ILoveYouBuhBye!

:+:

All this thinking (and the diphenhydramine) have me wondering about questions I rarely ponder. Am I assuming too much by not explaining what nanofiction is on a weekly basis? Do the themes work? Is there a way to make this even FUNNER, to quote my alter ego Elle Woods? Even if you don’t 55 in the comments, feel free to respond to any of that pseudo-angst.

47 thoughts on “55Friday: The “Why Can’t I Be You?” Edition”

  1. I’ll kick it off…

    The letter fluttered in her hands as she read his confession. His impassioned suit and abrupt departure had left her scarce knowing what to say, not due to his haste, but because they had cast light on a most unfortunate fact. He had bewitched her body and soul, despite her first impressions of his character.

  2. I’m feeling particulary clever and fun today, thus my 55Nano will be Found Poetry, based on SM comments and posts 🙂

    The Best Meal Ever my [rearranged] ode to the Mutiny

    All the colours and smells of India are here as spicy as a vindaloo electric curry of sweeping overdubbed strings an intoxicating literary experience as intensely flavored as a lamb korma…

    Orientalist buzzword bingo! Exotic! Curry-scented! Cardamom-flavored! Spice! Curry! Lehenga! Indian jewelry! Slinky bird! I canÂ’t tell whether IÂ’m mail-ordering a book, a bride or take-out. Like Water for the Spicy Mistress in the Guava Orchard…

    CanÂ’t we all just agree to consign the words exotic and spicy to the seventh circle of hell?

    As if Salman Khan sing[ing] “If I only Had a Brain” werenÂ’t enough…

  3. Vidster- thanks for reminding me with your lovely 55– I think it’s going to be fun to guess who people are imitating, don’t you? 😉

    P.S. No pressure, y’all. If you’re not feelin’ the theme, write whatever you want. “dowhatchyalike” and all that rot.

  4. An off-topic 55 from me, since I saw a certain prequel again on DVD recently:

    Vader stared out from the balcony, high in the upper echelons of his stone-and-metal fortress.

    The view was merciless. Crimson sky merging with blood-red ocean; nothing else but jagged, barren black rock forming the perfunctory land mass on this glimpse of hell which Vader had made his home.

    A pale reflection of his unrelenting grief.

  5. An Ode to a Friend Indeed She surveyed the space between bathroom and bed and lurched forward towards the end line. Hobbling, one hand held fast to the IV stand trailing behind her, the other sweeping gently over a shorn head, her eyes gleaming with the strength of her past, holding her up for now, panting, tiredÂ…

    She looks absolutely beautiful

  6. Vader stared at his wedding holograph, barely recognising the man smiling next to his ethereal bride.

    Such idealism, such hope. And yet…..the flicker of greed, of arrogance, of power was already there.

    He glanced at his reflection, the dark apparition glaring back.

    To be the youth in that picture again would be worth any price.

  7. Kenyan desi…that was beautiful. Especially since I know whom you wrote it for. Your friends are indeed lucky to have you. 🙂

  8. jai u are awesum dude……excuse me if i sound like an awkward junir high bloke but both in conception and execution,u excel……

  9. His tigress.

    Desire crowded his mind like pilgrims at Benares. Her silken lips, cinnamon eyes, lashes like Assam tea. Her breasts, twin Taj Mahals at sunset.

    How exquisitely she played his shehnai. The taste of her mango lassi.

    A monsoon of sadness flooded him.

    “ItÂ’s been fun,” sheÂ’d said. “But IÂ’m having an arranged marriage.”

  10. Sachin Ramesh tugs nervously at the waistband of his tantex underwear and unconsciously adjusts and re-adjusts his crotchguard-the only unbranded surface on his compact squat body. Eyes squinted, he skims over the ICICI,Hutch and Pepsi speckled boundary and the unwashed hordes thundering beyond. He practises a few phantom groundstrokes.

    ‘Relax, breathe, nothing to worry about…we’ve done this thirty-four times before.’

    In the style of this

    …more on tommy bashing at http://www.hamrablues.com/archive/sidebars/june_30_05_friedman.html

  11. I have just completed downloading all the Sepia RSS feeds from past Nano-55 orgies into a central database. Upon regressing the frequency of posting comments/nano-fiction against Anna’s time-to-post (measured in hours-past-Friday-00hrs), it can be easily seen that as winter progresses, Anna feels like staying in bed longer, confirming our genetic propensity to hibernate.

  14. A N N A, I got nothing, but I just wanted to mention that the last few weeks, your 55 Friday titles have been the bomb diggity. You’re turning me back into a teeniac, and I like it!

  15. The elephant in the newsroom was her use of cheap metaphors in foreign assignment pieces from exotic locations. The juggernaut of letters to the editor from offended Sepia readers concerned him enough to call her in for a meeting. How would he ask her to tone down the spice without invoking the wrath of Kali?

  17. Best. Comment. EVER.

    Hot damn woman! Wooohoo! Considering how many comments there have been on SM, that’s some mighty fine praise (or it simply means that if you write all about SM’s writers, they like it).

    DDiA, classic! I wonder who that could be an impersonation of…? Top stuff 🙂

    NOW! Word to the wise. Synchronise your mutineer meetup watches. Why? Because The Bong Breaker does the States. Coming to a town near you during Feb-March next year.

  18. LOL, I can’t do this one 😛 Here’s mine for consistency. A meta-55, if you will.

    And in the five hundred and first minuteÂ… write short and sweet. 55 words can tell a complete story, yet allows endless possibilities. If you wished, you could sit at your keyboard and write ten stories telling what happens next, all different, maybe even with happy endings.

    The pen truly is mightier than the clock.

  21. Who started this Bongsie thing? When DD and Anna say it, it kind of turns me on is tolerable. Now everyone’s saying it.

    Here’s my offering:

    Now, I think you’ll find I explained this in my articles on Sulekha HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE. It seems clear to me that poor, working class people should really stop complaining. If they canÂ’t work their way out of poverty, expel them from these compassionate American shores! They should learn from Hindus.

    Guess who! (from MB Games)

  25. [Ok, don’t kick me for this :)]

    When I was still a mutineerling, I read about a Harvard educated lady who turned down tenure to return to India and start literacy project among rural women. Swoon! Yesterday, as I was leaving abs class, I saw flyers from the organization trying to raise awareness of their work. So the theme for this weekÂ…

  26. Here’s my affectionate tribute:

    I wonder if it’s safe to go on SM today ? That casanova Jai Singh might be lurking.

    Okay, he actually hasn’t hit on me in months, and claims to be joking, but you never know…..

    If he tries any funny stuff again, I’ll jhatka his sorry ass into the middle of next week, yo.

  27. That was awful Jai! Admittedly it only looks bad cos your usual standards are so high but it was as if you wrote the whole thing in normal English and then realised it doesn’t sound like your target and stuck in ‘yo’ at the end!

    You should’ve said things like: ‘rockin” as in “rockin’ a lengha and a bad attitude” ‘groove’ as in “I’ve gotta get my groove on for Saturday” Occasionally end wordz with a z: “Mad props, sista’s got crazy skillz” ‘jackass’ ‘asshat’

    And I think ‘casanova’ is a wee bit OTT, how about…’sleaze‘? I lose track of how many times I’ve been referred to as that.

  28. For thousands of miles about, they waited for his latest Friday edict. All day, they did not see the crier ascend the minaret. Thinking that he might still be lost among his ancient scrolls in the library, one thousand warriors assembled at the gates. An attendant answered – “tell Jai Singh, the Mutineers are here.”

  30. Dear Perv,

    Just sending my heardiest Christmas greetings to you and the citizens of your contry. Hope 2006 is a better year for our carrears. As you know, being presidant is hard work!

    Oh! Laura made paki food yesterday. Tastes like our Texas chilly. But, ours tastes better, because we use beef. Heh!

    Merry Christmas!

  32. She shuddered a little in the early morning sun. Her mind was made up. She held a single strand of jasmine flowers as she walked down the steps to the ghaat. The cool water with puja debris slowly surrounded her. She said a prayer and threw the strand out before breathing her last. Oblivion, finally.

  35. Bong Breaker wrote:>>Now, I think you’ll find I explained this in my articles on Sulekha HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE. It seems clear to me that poor, working class people should really stop complaining. If they canÂ’t work their way out of poverty, expel them from these compassionate American shores! They should learn from Hindus. Guess who! (from MB Games)

    All this sounds soooo familiar… can’t put my finger on it, but I think I know this person from somewhere…

    M. Nam

  36. Salmadinrushdiewallah read about spying and lying, Afflecks reproducing, Afghanistan disintegrating, and sighed: Here was another winter of discontent. Beside him slept Padma — voluptuous, fawning, entirely her own woman, in a strapless Miyake. Salmadin unfolded his milky laptop, (as heÂ’d unfolded PadmaÂ’s milky arms), and began (finally, furiously, incomprehensible rage growing inside him) to type.

  38. OK, here’s my 55…. loaded, and iambic. This is so fun! (and I realise how not-familiar-enough I am with any particular author’s style! An ode to insular white people (the modern racist types) –

    Desis resist thy selectivity. Why dost thou appropriate only those items that thy meager palate can taste? Thou likenest our grand ancient culture To insipid morsels natives donÂ’t eat. Home-cooked foodÂ’s simplicity shameth thou Naan is rotiÂ’s white-bred counterpart; No Indian would normally eat curry. Do not colonise your experience. Gujju-mama awaits with open arms.

  41. Bongbreaker: I was trying to ensure my 55 was identifiable without accidentally insulting the person concerned. But you’re right in saying I should’ve included “asshat” in there somewhere, dammit !

    Badmash: Very good, bro. Definitely put a grin on my face 😉

    DesiDancer:

    Jai Singh: Casanova? Flirt-from-far, cross-continental-charmer, perhaps. Casanova? beh.

    I’m sure there’s a backhanded compliment buried in there somewhere 😉

    But you’re right — I’m not actually badmaash; I just pretend to be. And, apparently, “look the type”…..

  42. Okay everyone, guess who this is:

    I was with my girlfriend last night (stop sniggering), and we were chatting about whether certain desi morsels (cut it out) translate effectively to a Western audience. For example, do people like their lassi “sweet” or “salty” (careful now); or, if paan went mainstream, if they would prefer to spit or swallow after they’d finished.

  43. noficxedadderess: Thanks for your kind words earlier in response to my Star Wars 55s. It’s interesting to speculate about Vader’s “behind the scenes” thoughts and behaviour 😉

  44. You guys are on fire today – these are brilliant!

    You beat me to the punch BB. I’ve thought the same about identifying our belovd bloggers. I’d like to add that:

    if it starts out with a personal story, it’s guaranteed to be ANNA’s

    if it links to slate.com and expresses opposing perspectives the author tries to reconcile, it’s Abhi’s

    if the post itself is designed like the centerfold of a hi-design glossy with lots of pretty pics – Manish.

  45. Somewhat late – but inspired by the Endless and the events of nearly a year ago.

    The sound of furious waves thrashing, the howling wind, the sight of destroyed lives and terrible suffering, the cry of abandoned children

    The sight of Death and Destruction, the sounds of Despair, lack of Desire and Delirium invade my senses.

    Is this Destiny or just a Dream?

    A year later – have we done enough?

  46. “She though nervously for one last time and then in one swift motion,it was gone,her botle was empty. The lavage later hurled out the gooey mass from her innards as she lay unconscious on the hospital bed.

    ‘You still love me right’,she muttered deliriously as I stood there,wondering how predictible our lives had become.

  47. Like the tripod-Biharis on the Western Local Line, you Padma are on your hefty haunches, while I attempt to colonize your deepest spaces like the British subaltern did when he first discovered the Port of Bombay; our passions ebb and tide like the Arabian Sea, the summer heat of our fecund friction culminating in the spicy torrent. Mango-pickle-juice.

    Midnight’s Children: referential, or plagiarism?