Jean Gray

Once every few months

The dreaded storm approaches

Too close for comfort

A little too personal

Keeping within itself

Some pages, no leaves

And purposefully dramatic

Sarcasm, derision, and no blood

Evading a touch, spark

All it can

Flummox, Confusticate, Maraud

Even help a stranger

To keep the legend alive

Strike just the one

And the perfect exhibition

Of prolonged lightheartedness

At first glance

Self-obsessed, narcissistic, not alone

At second glance

Brooding, Baleful, still not alone

I see a girl inside

Deep inside

Maybe she isn't there

But I see her

And what now?

How I always know to stay away

Yet prove to all that I knew nothing to begin with...

(More to follow)

παρεξηγημένος (Misunderstood)

The tale is of Theophylaktos and an ineffable beauty, feared by those who stick to surfaces and revered by the peoples of old. The situations are self-descriptive and modicums are not dwelled into. With that, I proceed.

Theophylaktos (guarded by God) is drowning. He is told to not move too much and just let water guide him to the inevitable fate that lay ahead. He hesitates, wanting not to be duped. At a later time, and with no foreseeable choice, he submits himself to the mercy and whims of the river Bisaltes. Known to be an ancient mighty river, he knew not of its connexion with the Aegean. At that moment, it seemed to him that he was entrapped, and Bisaltes was but a herald of the dreaded Styx. There came to him a vision, none other than The Watcher himself. He opened Theophylaktos’ eyes to the beauty that lay before his very senses, and all around him.

Thence came a realization. He saw the deer and peoples living in harmony, propounding to him that relish waits ahead. It was the perfect day for hunting, but no one there would feed on the other kind’s life. It occurred to him that all knew him by his name. He began to revel, to float and become stable. In time, he would glide over and above the mighty and pitiful Bisaltes.

He rose to the banks, his heart lightened by the beautiful smile on people’s faces. He rode on the back of deer, drank milk and basked in this shared affluence; and just when he was about to lie down on the wet and glowing grass, he saw a woman.

Unlike all others, no light emanated from her body. Her posture symbolized wounds of a strife and glory-taken-away. Yet, her beauty was above all, even with the realization that he hadn’t seen her face still. He went to her at once; and intending to kiss her and bring joy to one another, he grabs her by the hip, and puts his fingers in her golden hair. She turns back and looks at him. He took a great bow and then looked up, straight on her.

It was Medusa.

February 17, 2011

There are times, a lot of those, when I get disappointed and cut myself off from some people whom I know; if only it was more evident that a blog isn’t without a cause. In layman terms, this is the place that I choose to get away at.

Distracting myself from the crux of the moment for a bit, the Java update popped on top of all my windows and to my face. Well, its not 3D but its good enough to be exaggerated. Anyway, coming back to the point, if one had ever had the time to go through my earlier posts, one would know that I am very affirmative and inclined to some of my greatest likes. One among them is well above others on my priority list. That something is Football Club Barcelona with Xavier Hernandez Creus, Lionel Messi, Gerard Pique, Andres Iniesta, Carles Puyol as an integral part to mention a few.

Sometomes, I wonder why I like them the amount that I do. The problem with the excessive amount of inclination towards them is that one tends to expect the highest standards for one’s own sake; after all, no matter how much I shout about my passion towards anything, one would care the most about themselves and their ego and all that. Drat! My sentences are really very long and obfuscated. Also, one aspect that I like to stick to, is to not get carried away with emotions and heat of the moment(s).

With that in mind, I say no more. Let the untold speak for itself, or not. I hope that I don’t indulge in writing getaway anecdotes like this anymore. The form of speech/writing is highly cliche’d; and so is the word itself. Have a good night.

Poseur

Tremble
Tremble my friend when I look
For it does not mean
that I put myself where you are
I do it for your harm
And mine too

But hold there; it doesn't stop
It gets worse
I spend one year trying to break you
To gnaw you and your very mind

You
You there
Wearing that dress - 'Posing as a puritan white'
What if they run out of it?
You'll wince, and I'll look
Just as I always do
You can't kill me
Only I can do that
And I may.

Installing Microsoft Windows 7 from a USB device

Here, one mainly concentrates on making a Windows 7 Bootable USB drive. For that, you need one USB stick, one err...anyway, you'll get to know.

(1) Download the Windows7-USB-DVD-tool.exe from Microsoft Store (or wherever). If one is facing a conundrum as to which link should be clicked first (or at all), you may click either. I don't know why I do that.

(2) As you may have guessed by its name, this is the software which shall be employed to burn Windows 7 ISO image to a USB stick (the needful).

Note: You must have Administrator privileges on the computer where you are to install the Windows 7 USB/DVD Download Tool. Also, Microsoft .NET Framework version 2.0 or higher is required.

(3) Once you are sure of what you have, install it.

(4) If you have downloaded a genuine ISO from the Microsoft Store, skip steps 5 to 7.

Note

It appears that there are two (possibly more) “navigation buoys” within UDF-formatted ISOs that point to two important chunks of the image called Anchor Volume Descriptor Pointers (AVDPs). The first AVDP is near the top of the image, and the second is in (possibly) the last logical block of the image. From what I have come across (by reading articles), this is to support bi-directional reading.

Ergo, assuming each logical block to be 2048 bytes in size, the second AVDP is -2048 bytes from the end of the file; which is what the tool assumes, doesn’t find it and wouldn’t work.

I suppose ISOs downloaded from the Microsoft Store are comprised in a compatible manner so that the situation would not arise. In order to use the Windows 7 USB/DVD Download Tool with Custom ISOs, you can employ the following software. It finds the AVDP in one’s Custom ISO file and copies it to offset (EOF-2048).

(5) Download isoavdpcopy.exe to do the needful as discussed above.

(6) Arrange a situation where isoadvpcopy.exe and your Custom Windows 7 ISO file are in the same folder.

(7) Open Command Interpreter pointing to that very directory, and type in the following:

[command] isoavdpcopy.exe <name_of_iso.iso> [Enter]

(8) Launch the Windows 7 USB/DVD Download Tool.

(9) Click on Browse, select the ISO file from its location and press Next.

(10) Click on USB device in Step 2, choose your USB device if it doesn’t pick one for you automatically or whatever else the reason.

(11) Select Begin Copying, hold your patience and that should be it. Hope I helped.
 

Everything Falls Apart

Extreme ways are back again
Extreme places I have known
The dream of being someone else (again)
has acquired a life of its own
So many dreams, so many faces
So many of all those things
All the faces looking at me
I am being left alone
The feeling of being followed
The feeling of being liked
The touch of someone bad again
Being torn down every night
The darkness that I feared the most
Is the colour of my skin
Hopeless coloured me
I have spent my life on this
My life has always been about this

Oh ****, Oh ****
Then it fell apart
It fell apart

Oh ****, Oh ****
Like it always does
Like it always does

Extreme ways of saying things
Extreme ways every time
Condescension is a virtue
Not everyone has the right
Too many lies, too many capers
Too much time, contemplations
Its really not good for me
It just can't be good
The way you talk back to me
Makes me stand in awe of you
Every single day
Dirty things and Dirty places
Dirty thoughts and Dirty faces
My face is one of them
My thoughts are very low
I have spent my life on this
My life has always been about this

Oh ****, Oh ****

Then it fell apart
It fell apart

Oh ****, Oh ****
Like it always does
Like it always does

Of the Ruin of Beleriand

I have been pondering over what to write; should it something that rhymes, one that dazzles with its subtlety or something like what I am writing right now. It's a difficult choice to be made under most circumstances, for there are some when One feels the need to write something decided in advance and in haste, not in the likeness of Shadowfax, which was steered by the wisest of the Maiar in the later days; ergo, making it replete. Anyway...

Beleriand is the land where things have been etched, the realm of reveries, and the alternative to Highbury; the precise selection from the three is left to the stark (let us assume it's stark) imagination of readers and scorners. I do care who, but let us say that I "do not care". After all, it is my place to say what I want. The period of solace is rather ephemeral and a path to utter discontent. One wonders if there is a path to absolute satiation. Why does One have to wonder so much, why is One so self-obsessed to allude to himself as the One. There are myriad other ones, but the amount of importance they are bestowed with is evident from the small 'o' in "ones". How comfortably conceited of him to write all of this, be self-contemptuous and consider oneself realistic. The foolishness seems to continue and the end appears not. Digressing from the crux of the moment, can a thing be 'inexorably ineffable'? I think not. Then why is it that I feel that there should be something like it, maybe in philosophical terms of the ignorant. They can make anything intellectually marvelous by making it sound esoteric and "artistic".

I suppose it is difficult to fathom how, but all of the above-written reminds me of a recent event at the Emirates Stadium. Liverpool played badly and still made Arsenal look appalling, which indeed seems to be the case. I cannot not feel for Arsene Wenger, and his views and adherence to a line of thought. He and the club certainly deserve better by a long-shot.

As we approach the end of this, let us say that there lies a pile of stuff in the caverns of Utumno, which is conspicuous in the way that it is conspicuous enough to be mentioned. It is in those caves and lairs that beings and imperceptible entities were mutilated in Olden days, and it marks the end of all things bright and clear, and this too.