slumdog millionaire

I just finished reading 《slumdog millionaire》, a novel by Vikas Swarup.
The original title is 《q & a》, which is more revealing of the way the story is told.
The author uses the form of a quiz show to tell the story or stories, because for every answer to a question there is a bitter fragment of the hero's life in India and how he gets to know the answer. Through his adventures in various cities we get glimpses of the poverty and social problems in India. The suspense of how the poor hero wins a billion rupees is well kept to the end. It turns out to be a fascinating fairy tale.
I am looking forward to seeing its adapted film which is a winner in Oscar this year.

World Baseball Classic

With the curtain of WBC falling, I feel a little out of place. It's like an exciting dream from which I don't want to wake up. There are still fragments of yesterday's game replaying in my mind. I am deeply touched by the matches of Japan vs. Korea. They deserve every respect. Besides the pulsating games on TV, I also sense there are some invisible offenses and defenses going on in this side of my life, like the strangers sharing the same TV with me at the risk of being caught by their bosses in office hours; or the young man standing quietly by the lane selling delicious sandwiches on a large tray hung on his neck; or the sports-themed resturants, where there must be TV with games on, closed and for rent. They are unforgettable impressions, now I have to put them behind and move on and hit some ball into play.

triskaidekaphobia

triskaidekaphobia: fear of the number 13.

When I passed by a Starbucks last night, there was a long waiting line zigzagging from indoor warmth to outdoor coldness. Out of curiosity, I walked up to check the bulletin board at the gate. White Valentine's Day, time to share your happiness, it said. I took a second look at the waiting crowd. They did not look like happy couples or lovers, but more like bitter refugees from the other day, Friday the 13th, or the last one in February.

There is still one more Friday the 13th. In November. Dark forces of numerology. No wonder economists are pessimistic about the prospect of this year.

March

Turning over a new page to March on the calendar, which contains twelve paintings of Marc Shagall for each month, I find a woman in red blouse and yellow skirt dancing to some inaudible melody, entitled Gypsy.
So I leave my job to join the grand march of unemployment.

I buy a new Panasonic vacuum cleaner. The dust in my room has been thick. I have the whole time in the world to deal with it now.

The wise bartender J in Pinball, 1973, by Haruki Murakami （村上春樹）, said:
“Me, I’ve seen 45 years, and I’ve figured out one thing. That’s this: if a person would just make the effort, there’s something to be learned from everything. From even the most ordinary, commonplace things, there’s always something you can learn. I read somewhere that they say there’s even different philosophies in razors. Fact is, if it weren’t for that, nobody’d survive.”

So is vacuum cleaner.