Yet another goal!!!

They're lowest on the totem pole of human accouterments, yet their importance is shown in the numerous metaphors with which they enrich the language...and some times weird sexual fantasies from high society divas...but lets leave that for some other time... I'm talking about shoes...
We're told to walk in others' shoes before criticizing them. After all, there's no better way to find where the shoe pinches. Sometimes we have to do our best in filling someone's shoes. At times, we wait to br thrown a shoe nad at other times we wait for the other shoe to drop. This last one has an interesting story behind it. An inn dweller is dead tired when he returns to his room late at night. As he begins to undress, he removes a shoe and drops it on the floor. Realizing that the big thud must have woken up the fellow in the room below, he takes off the other shoe and puts it down gently. After a considerable time a voice screams from the room under him, "For God's sake, drop the other shoe! I want to go back to sleep."
You don't need to wait for any shoes to drop here... But i have to say i'm really enjoying the world cup!!!

An advice...and nothing more than an advice!!!!

Has a short quotation you read somewhere..maybe be the door of a public bathroom...ever made you think more than you would have thought after spending several weeks with a heavy tome? Perhaps that's what Friedrich Nietzsche had in mind when he said, "It is my ambition to say in ten sentences what others say in a whole book."...Now that is just my opinion, but i think you should take it as an adice anyhow!!!!

Yet again on Feng Shui...

In Maithili, my mother tongue, and also in Hindi, you will find the usage of "Hawa pani" to explain the intangible properties of a place. Grandparents would often say, "The Hawa Pani of this place is not conducive for setting up home" or "Go check out the Hawa Pani of the city before you decide to take up the job". And, guess what the literal meaning is? Hawa = Wind and Pani = Water! Just like Feng Shui...
Maybe the Chinese travellers took away this reference, or maybe they left the reference behind.

After Feng Shui... just before my new life

* Disclaimer: This story might not be about nothing at all ... but it's definitely about "du vin, du pain et des femmes"*

In the past couple of months, I have decided to take a new job in China. After almost three years in London, I have been called by one of the founding editors of the blog as "demented, mad and with total lack of understanding of what makes sense for my career going forward".

Nevertheless, the decision is made and this week I came to China with my current company but actually took advantage to look around and finally decide if I would live in Beijing or Shanghai. Three days in Beijing and tons of dust later - the yearly sandstorm hit town just the day I landed - it became clear that Beijing should be the choice, since my new mega - and now only - boss is based there. Since I am stupid (or known to be, by some) I still decided to check out Shanghai.

Shanghai is really a fabulous city, but the really stupid thing wasn't coming here... the stupid, stupid thing was to go and check flats... It all started with a man's name, but she apparently (oh yes, very apparent indeed) was a woman... American... really, really cute and what can I say (you have definitely guessed it by now), I have fallen in love. Not really with the city, which is great, but the whole "we Bankers dominate town" scene just doesn't work for me, but I literally fell in love with her.

The real insight of the story: be careful when you have wine and bread at a Nepalese. It might change your perspective on life in unforeseen ways ... and definitely, definitely be careful with women with men's names. They are the most dangerous kind.

Feng Shui

Today i woke up with a question running through my head...unfortunaltely it wasn't a naked blonde runnig in my room, but then again...the question was...Why bull's eye? Why not a cat's eye or a dog's eye or even lama's eye? As i walked to the underground i asked every single person that crossed my path and the answer is...nobody knows. Perhaps it's an indication of the earlier agro-economy and the importance of bovine animals in it....or It was probably suggested by the similarity of a bull's round eye with that of a target...but then again aren't all eyes round?!?! The doubt about why Bull's eye does remain...

Fire...

You know what's funny about today....maybe some of you have had this same feeling...I don't really know why but I'm coming closer to believe that my life is a wry, comedic exploration of the crazy vicissitudes of love and friendship, the damnable persistence of loneliness and dreams and the enduring war between Wine and Spirits... but then again who knows?!?!?!?

Fish are friends...not food!!!

My eight-year-old god-daughter Ananya was about to do her homework, but her mind was elsewhere....Booze again i thought to myself...now that we had gone through the hard roads of quiting smoking...booze was a new challenge to overcome!!! She sharpened her pencils. She arranged the eraser, sharpener and ruler in a row. Then she collected the pencil shavings in a pile...I knew something was wrong...those red eyes...the continous grin...I knew i was onto something....
"Let's read the first problem," I suggested, but she began doodling...she is the doodler kind, if you know what i mean... "Well, have you heard the story of the bird's eye?" I asked. Her ears perked up...wierd thing for a eight year old...but I began...
Long ago in India, there lived a martial arts teacher named Drona...like the fish...He ran an academy in the middle of the forest where he taught the art of archery...most good schools of martial arts are in the middle of the forest. Not to mention it usually takes eight days of walking in the most dangerous places in the world to get there...i sometimes wonder that if you manage to get there is because you don't really need martial arts in your life...after all you've surviced, flying monkeys, midget wariors, etc...anyway back to the story i told her...Students traveled for miles and miles to learn from him. A boy named Jack wanted to be the best archer in the world. So he decided to study at Drona's academy...Drona like the fish...He lived in the cottages for students.
Drona, like the fish, showed his students how to hold a bow and arrow. He told them to focus, "Look at where you want your arrow to go. Nowhere else." He told them to concentrate, "Think only of what you want your arrow to do. Nothing else."...
Jack listened intently...while smuggling booze to the other students and making decent cash on the way...anyway, he practiced and practiced and practiced. One night while Jack was eating his dinner, a gust of wind blew out the oil lamp...i think it was Jenny the girl sitting next to him just to annoy him...Jack, although the booze smuggler was quite bullied in the academy..they had even nicknamed him creampuff... Jack continued eating.
"I can eat in the dark because I know where my mouth is," he said to himself, "I don't need to look at anything else...what a marvellous thought don't you think!!!!
He decided to practice archery in the dark. Later that night he relighted the lamp and used it as a target. He thought, "I know where my target is and I don't need to look at anything else."
He picked up his bow and arrows and began shooting. TWANG! TWANG! The sound of bow strings filled the air...weird ha...i bet you were expecting SSShhhhh...but it's my story so i say it was TWANG... When Drona, like the fish, heard the sound, he came out of his cottage. The sight of Jack practicing archery delighted him. He blessed Jack, saying "May your arrows never miss their targets...then he swore as he had just stepped on dog's puu....
Soon other students grew jealous of all the attention Jack was getting. "Why do you think Jack is the best among us all?" they asked the teacher. That evening Drona, like the fish, made an announcement.
"Tomorrow, there will be an archery competition to find out the best archer," Drona said. "When the sun climbs over the horizon, be ready with your bows and arrows."
The students polished their bows. They sharpened their arrows. Next morning they gathered in the yard. Glossy bows and pointed arrows gleamed in the sun. The wind was still but the students' hearts fluttered with excitement...and some of the unlucky ones with arrows!!!! Drona stepped out. In his hands was a bird made of clay. He laid it on a tree far from them.
"See that clay bird perched on the tree ahead of us? Aim at its eye," he said. Then he called the first student. The student plucked an arrow from the quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see trees of green, red roses too...i see them blue" the student replied as he released the string. The arrow shot forward and landed yards away from the tree...but the music was sang beautifully...
The second student took his position. He plucked an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see a bad moon arising...i see troubles" the student replied as he released the string. The arrow shot forward and landed near the roots of the tree...again great singing...
Finally it was Jack's turn. He plucked an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see the eye of the bird," Jack replied. "What else do you see, Jack?" Drona asked. "Nothing. I only see the round black eye of the bird," Jack replied as he released the string...if only the other students had taken the hands out of his other eye!!!! The arrow shot forward with a swoosh. It pierced the center of the eye of the clay bird.
"And that's the end of the story," I announced. Ananya thought for a few moments. "Hmmm.. I see. So I'm Jack, my pencil is the arrow, and the homework problem is the bird's eye?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. And she immediatly stick the pencil in my eye... she wasn't Jack...she was Ananya...i should have known that after all she was my god-daughter!!!

Coming from nowhere to achieve nothing at all....

Today i stumbled for the first time in my life on the word sextet and unlike one would expect it has nothing to do with sex, unless of course, the six people in question engage in some questionable calisthenics....does that not really annoy you? i mean it is sextet after all..it is bound to relate to sex...but you know what i came to realize that this what the English language does -- often leading us on, only to make things limpid in the end.... It remainds me of those friday nights out in Clapham...how can those not be related to sex either...Weird world we live in...

The reminisce of an idea...

Sigmund Freud, the famous psychiatrist, believed that sex was the reason for everything we do and do not do...It's obvious and few can dispute that at least few under the age of 92... It is an appealing theory that made him rich and famous...i believe most girlsband follow that principle... He was a sometime consultant on Hollywood movies. Much got by the censorship of the Hayes office, but the symbolism was clear to the masses - hats, bananas, shoes, grass, sky, and the heaving mass of the ocean. Porpoises. Jellyfish. It packed out movie theatres around the world.
Dr Siggy did not believe in intuition. I do not suppose there is much perception required about a sparrow trapped in a chimney, Clark Gable's moustache, and Bette Davis blasting away with a pearl handled revolver.
Intuition is not the popular belief of 'knowing things' without foundation. Although, the opposite sex accomplishes that very feat all the time. Intuition is the clashing of two ideas that create a third idea … that something that is new, perceptive, and for want of a better word, 'known'. You know it when it happens. Suddenly you get an IDEA.
Try it. Put two disparate thoughts together: A well-dressed woman of refinement who prefers men of style and grace. A slob who frequents striptease shows and drinks until he passes out...yeah i know it sounds familiar...They are trapped in a lift. What are the intuitive leaps of the characters? Not you the writer, creator of the scene, but the characters.
Another: Clark Gable's moustache and Bette Davis's revolver. Maybe Sigmund Freud was onto something after all....

Quite an intriguing thought...

While most of you were thinking about girls or boys or even both last night i was assulted by an intriguing thought...What does it take to coin a word...indeed to create a word of your own or just to make it accepted in the word world...I have always been intrigued why words such as badebadu or Houlla are not in the dictionary...So i ask you all faithfull readers: "Could you tell me how I can get it into a dictionary?" From time to time I'm asked questions like this by folks wondering how to get a word to take up residence in the hallowed halls of lexiconia.
Thousands of new words do enter the dictionaries every year. So, what's the criterion for their inclusion? What does a word have to do to be worthy of being called 'legitimate'? Who decides what's a good word and what isn't?
Usage is the single most important factor to determine if a word gains membership of that exclusive club... It has to appear extensively, in many different sources, such as newspapers, magazines, books, TV, radio, Internet, etc., over several years to show that it is gaining currency...but we all know that it doesn't hurt if the word is catchy and captures public imagination...and this is the point where i don't understand why houlla is not yet in the dictionary...I don't understand why usage has to be the key to the kingdom...why is there not a court where the rules for words to enter the dictionary and obviously the almighty...Dictionary editors...would read a wide variety of sources and consult the general public to monitor the language...something like the Jury for words...And then they could take notes on little index cards or in a computer database and then once there is enough evidence or popular demand, they would consider whether to include it in the next edition of their dictionary, and if the answer is yes, they work to define it precisely...how exciting...i can almost imagine those glittering moments..."So Ted what are you up to tonight fancy a beer?" Sorry mate...no can do gotto precise the definition of a word..."Oh you bastard!! If only i had got it first!??!?!
So how do you win that honor for your little baby? It's not easy under current tiranic rules...but i have a plan.. Share it with family and friends, use it, and encourage them to publish letters, articles, stories using that word. And even if it doesn't make it into the dictionary, remember that it's still a bona fide word... nothing in the definition of the word 'word' says that a word has to be in a dictionary to be called one...and that my friends is why i don't feel frustrate for not having the power of a dictionary editor...

And yet a bit more...

To stand for something, in life, to tell the truth and let the chips fall where they may, to have guts and attitude, and not be afraid to take chances...that's real attitude...and that’s the D'Loro's way!!!

A bit more on the man...

Peolpe in the business know that when a man's partner is killed he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't matter what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it...luckly Deloro never had a partner but he knows the rules...Some say he wrote the rules...some say he can't write...but those are all lying back on the floor staring at the ceiling...'cause of death: Natural("it's natural to die when you have a bullet hole in your brain" D'loro)

The beggining of something

The town of Las Cruces was enjoying booming business in vice when Deloro, a hardboiled private eye, moved in to check a fishy suicide. But when he kidnapped the mayor, caught the police chief in a bribe trap, and managed to get control of the local paper in a fight for justice, he blew the lid off this lawless mining town. Deloro had to dodge lead from a dozen racketeers while he used three beautiful, dangerous dames to trap a cunning syndicate killer!"
Deloro's a pretty tough, cynical guy, "cold as hell," hard through and through, although he does seem to have a soft spot for "Velda" the nickname's he's given his head secretary/receptionist, Veladimeia Jardinn. He may occasionally seem soft-spoken, and may even display an unexpected fondness for classical music (although he admits he doesn't "know much about it") but make no mistake Deloro's the real deal.

Pedagogic dharma

One of the hardest things in life isn't solving complex algebraic equations, it's not coming up with creative campaigns for a new client, it's not conquering a mountain peak or turning aroung a low-cost airline. It's to sit still and do nothing.
I recently attended a five-day meditation retreat also known in my office as:"Fever and flu simptons with a constant dizziness"and by my friends as:"Get myself up to speed with the latest movies and eat as much strawberry cheesecake as humanly possible"... In this residential program one is secluded from the outside world for the first four days: no email, no cellphones, no reading, no writing. And no talking...a lot of coughing when trying in vain to communicate with the office...
When one sits still and tries to focus, the mind becomes turbulent. It mounts its horse and starts galloping in all directions, north and south, into past and future, to places real and imaginary, and who knows where else. So nothing better than that great altar of passive entertainment also known by common mortals as TV to tame the wild brain waves and gradually it does begin to be reined in.
The silence is relieved on the last two days, mainly thursdays and fridays and is then substituted by large portions of alcohol flowing through the dinner table...yes, because when I entered the dining area I expected little talk, a gradual easing into the world.
What I encountered instead was a cacophony of talk. I felt I had returned to a world I didn't belong to. What was the normal conversation of a few dozen people sounded to me like the roar of a volcano...why did no one sound like Catherina Zeta-Jones...Why did no one look like Angelina Jolie...Where are all the blonde twins????
Before the departure for home, while buttoning my shirt, I overheard someone in the bathroom area say, "I don't think she had an O. I know when she is faking it." For a moment I felt like telling him, "Look my friend i've just come from a full program where all the episodes of sex in the city were mandatory and i know for a fact that for a woman to actually have an O they have to get into a mental state like the karate guys before they break the bricks. So it doesn't make you much of a mind reader to figure that one out!!!"
And this my friends is why sometimes in life we just need to to sit still and do nothing for evolution to take its course...

This one is for the young ones, and the sentimentalists

Punxsutawney Phil came out yesterday with, I think, an unexpected announcement, not so much because it was unexpected (because it wasn't), but i mean in the pejorative sense. You know, like the way black people mean it. Punxsutawney Phil is a little groundhog (with a big heart) and his predictions represent more than expectation... they are the hope of a nation and the humour of the old.

So when that little fritter came out on stage with that gorgeous grizzly goatie and that pervasively sloped forehead, he had seen 'the shadow'. And so, the hopes of an early summer were drizzled, or 'snowed-in', you might say. The people moaned.

But, Timmy, it's not so much about moaning on a day like yesterday, in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, the wooden state. It was a coming together. After all, the little fritter can draw a crowd. And when all was said and done, when the gong was rung, and the people had disappeared to their homes, nestled into bed, and, were doing what people do, you know, stuff, the spirit of the day remained.

Here is to a culture that embraces the finer things in life. Yesterday was not a celebration of a great battle, or political victory, or a story of the rising above adversity (because after all, groundhogs are pretty lazy - and some are overfed, and some deaf) but simply a celebration of lifestyle, or what the Medici era dubbed humanism. You know you feel it when you get those little hairs rising on your arm, and on your back for some. We are bound to the earth and the earth touches the sky. Valvoline. You know what I mean. And so, I am looking forward to some warmth amidst the cold, and I found it today. Here's to you Punxsutawney.

When in rome

Who throws a shoe? Come on people, help me out here. Throw me a bone... What do I pay you people for?? I follow all the rules, you follow none of them, but they always love you more. I mean.. throw me a bone.

The unclarity of grey skies on a tuesday

Well don't i have a nice story for you guys...I woke up this morning and i knew immediatly that that was not the best i was gonna feel all day...three major things lead me to this conclusion, first i was fully dressed, second this wasn't my place and finnally my brain was sending out signals of pain throughout my body!!! Five minutes and half a liter of water later and just as i was dragging my self to work this misty morning for my hard and long ten minutes i had one of those ideas which i came realise only confirms that it is not easy nor fun to be a super genius once you realize how hard it is to put up with the rest of the world, words of wisdom that my good friend a Peruvian Ayatolla had already mentioned several times(next time i'll tell you about Ayatolla Buca)..But back to my little story...
I thought it would be great to provide my fragile body a good and healthy breakfast. So i stroll around untill i find a typicall coffe shop...I entered and as my eyes glance at every piece of food in store and my brain reflects on the pros and cons of eating everything, i decide to go for what many call the breakfast of the champions: Bacon & eggs, ham and cheese toast and double expresso!!!
The civil servant that was behing the counter...let me just add not a bad looking guy for a 65 years old bold, fat, limping midget...tells me that it's 11:15 and therefore it's no longer breakfast time so he can't serve me unless i want the special of the day Home made lasagna.
First concept of home made food at restaurants is quite intriguing...what is the big difference..shuoldn't a restaurant be much better equiped than home to cook...i mean after all it is a restaurant..Let me guess "Well you know our chef has much better ingridients at home, not to mention his state of the art kitchen...that is where it is all happening we just started this restaurant that costed us half a million to serve as a platform for his home cooking!!!"
This not to mention that i would never eat anything coming out of our civil servant's home...judging by his looks i don't think hygiene was his biggest priority...i actually struggled to see him having any priority else than eating....
So at this point i said very slowly: Ok lets tell Mr. Ham and his good mate Cheese that we are in Tokyo and therefore it's a very early breakfast..how about that?
At this point this loyal civil servant started to ramble about how i was holding up the other customers and if i was to have nothing to eat i should leave... taking into account that the only other customer an 82 years old man, who i believe had been there since the coffe shop was last cleaned, on the corner table was more interested in my conversation than on the coffe and muffin at his table i started to wonder wether the almighty civil servant wasn't delusional and imagined he was running a McDonalds somewhere downtown...and this is when i left the coffe shop and decided to take the day off!!!...Obviously was in far too deep for my little legs to carry me....have to go and reflect on such painfull events... but...I'll be back when I have recovered from my (so calm, serene and undetectable to the untrained eye) but breakdown never the less......

Humble introductions

First let me apologise for not introducing myself properly up to now...Yes i know that word is out there...Who is J Bicudo? Why is J Bicudo? When is J Bicudo? And the truth is one...and is as folows...
Joao Bicudo was a glittering hero the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging...
Everyone who is at all interested in the human race should look at him and maybe even study his every move, it's incredible. I think whatJ Bicudo stands for captures a lot of the problems with our system and what needs to be done in order to win. we all know how politics work...Time that should be spent on policy is spent fundraising, time that should be spent addressing the people is spent placating social groups, issues requiring complex explanations and solutions are left untouched because they can't be made into a sound bite. We have a political system which prizes the unexceptional and squeezes mediocrity from the inspirational. It kills the good in our leaders, forcing them to do that which is most unnecessary to govern effectively, and to forego that which is most crucial to leading well. And J Bicudo disgusted by it... And this is were you can start to fully understand the man behind the myth...
J Bicudo has admirers and followers working with him, but the realitty is that all the people, are absolutely leveled by the need for constant infusions of recognition....But not J Bicudo..no, no, no he is pretty old school and proud of it...One day overall fundraising numbers and aceptance will be announced - some will do well (J Bicudo, for instance), others will not. But what is represented by it? Support, maybe. Certainly that holds true for J Bicudo...but we know best, indeed we know that our system is ineffective and approaching rotten. Good men get frozen out of the process, thoughtful men can't get the necessary media, and so average men who speak in simple sentences and talk as if they were at a sports bar become national leaders. Changing that won't be easy, but the first step is to get someone in office who recognizes these problems and the need for reform. J Bicudo is that man...a man who would begin pulling our Democracy back from the cliff. Enough of the infighting, enough of the apathy, enough of the absolutes. This is what J Bicudo is...this is why J Bicudo is...and this clearly is when J Bicudo happens!!! Your truly
J Bicudo

A walk down memory lane

I was intrigued by the late submission of the great Bicudo on the sartorial ideas and ideals of the Muganda people, represented in flesh and robe by the Muganda man. I refer specifically to Lyphamode et al (2005) on their recent discussion of 'dipping' in relation to posture and the Kanzu. Is it optimal to wear the Kanzu on the side, down low or too slow? I mean, would it be better to walk with ones bum pointing out like a reverse pregnant lady, or just let it hang where it be...

Did you know that...The dignified Muganda man will appear at formal occasions dressed in a Kanzu, the long, white robe introduced by the Arabs at about the same time the European missionaries were arriving with their own sartorial ideas!!!

Some of you guys must be wondering...where have you been lately? What have you been up to? Ladies i imagine...Well to all of you and may i say...not in a shy way...the thruth is one and is as follows...With Schwazeneger playing governor and Bruce Willis on vacations someone had to save the world!!!