So to cheer me up, and because I realized that I am posting something or the other here almost everyday (mostly as a way to distract myself from myself), I decided that I need to change my logo. And by fortuitous circumstances I discovered the work of Hundertwasser, an Austrian artist. I think it is highly impossible to view these paintings, and still feel as angst-y as before. Thus-ly a logo is made out of a painting, a sort of a reminder to myself that life does not follow (perhaps it was never meant to) the tyranny of straight lines, that it spirals, circles, sits in large blobs, sprouts as trees from high windows, grows globular Islamic domes, slides on floors that are slightly titled, is slightly deranged, and is always colorful, even in moments of heavy sadness (what would its color then?). Also here are few further links.

And here is today's music video (courtesy YouTube), featuring Cowboy Mouth, a band from New Orleans (now nearly gone, Lordy!) whose music is not very well know, perhaps deservedly because they are not all that sonically hot, but whose live performances resemble some good ol' fashioned revival meetings, i.e., they rock in the truest sense. My first encounter with these gentlemen took place a few years ago, when I was a greenhorn at the Heartbreak Bar, and to substitute that fallible religion called Love, I took to live music. It was a concert of some 30,000 souls all jumping up and down hollering as Fred beat mad rhythms on those drum, and make all of those present believe, for a moment at least, in the milk of human kindness and love. So yes, if they are coming to a town near you, kind readers, you should go get some religion.

Speaking of New Orleans, I wonder if anyone of you have read Michel Ondaatje’s novel "Coming Through Slaughter"? It apparently is styled like set of jazz tunes, with improvisation at its heart. While the writing in this novel, like the latter novels, throws off sharp sparks like those that can be seen off a knife grinder's wheel, I felt it doesn't somehow congeal into an artifact called a novel. Maybe this is because of my limitations as a reader?