tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34744534621163298332024-03-05T15:14:51.535+05:30escape/vitriolCainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-44590418003155304472013-07-15T05:47:00.000+05:302013-07-15T06:05:57.825+05:30Insanity IP, 500mg.
When you type 'help I'm' on Tumblr, the suggested tags include 'help I'm in love', 'help I'm bored', 'help I'm alive' and 'help I'm dying'.
What I'd actually begun to type was 'HELP I'M INVENTING FICTIONAL ROLLS-ROYCES'. You're welcome.
Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-15192953146264632652013-06-25T22:00:00.000+05:302013-06-25T22:00:29.005+05:30NCND, abbr., 'neither confirm nor deny'. (See also DKDC: 'don't know, don't care'.)
Made this. Am gleeful. Glee will probably fade in a day or so.
Apropos of nothing, I seem to have begun to write an Avengers fic. What am I doing.
In my defence, there's no other fandom in which you can turn a character's cars into people and get away with it (though admittedly this is because there are no cars in Star Trek). I'm blaming this one on you for having so many cars, Stark.
Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-85231275433592888422013-01-11T23:03:00.000+05:302013-01-11T23:05:26.551+05:30Roses Are Red. Copper Sulphate Is Blue.
According to my pageview details, people have been trying to find out what my blog title means. Well, it's a more-or-less literal description of the blog itself, and comes from 'escape velocity' and 'blue vitriol' because I'm a geek. That's all there is to it. :P
Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-15408300742723458412013-01-04T05:50:00.001+05:302013-01-06T20:49:33.422+05:30Driven (or; More Car Per Car)
On the twenty-eighth of December 2012, Ratan Tata retired as chairman of
the Tata Group. This past week, I've read and heard a whole lot of glowing homages
enumerating his achievements, praising his shrewd decisions and business
acumen, his vision and willingness to take risks and surge forward. Each of these homages has made a point of mentioning the Nano - the least expensive road car in Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-53302301748059591012012-11-02T20:49:00.001+05:302012-11-02T20:49:42.266+05:30
Can't watch the Top Gear Bond-car special because I've got to study and possibly write self-indulgent Star Trek: TOS fanfiction because one of my actual protagonists won't shut up about it.
...Well, got to get that download queue started again.
Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-37520347526897098472012-10-28T16:17:00.000+05:302013-01-04T05:57:05.859+05:30\`_´/
The stealth bomber lounges,
refreshingly constant,
with flanks of sleek metal
and eyes leonine.
"Await this December,"
said she to the Manza
with frankness and longing;
"you will then be mine."
This is my life right now: impromptu love McWhirtles to my car. (Mine.) It isn't even a sonnet. Sonnets in my turn of phrase can be excused.
(The maniacal screencapping of two Star Trek: TOS Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-61833641426921314402012-10-06T00:29:00.001+05:302012-10-17T23:17:14.489+05:30Sexism in astrology, if you please.
A friend and I decided to amuse ourselves this afternoon by reading each other's Linda Goodman's Sun Signs chapters out loud.
Linda Goodman on how to keep a Leo man: 'submerge yourself'. Linda Goodman on how to keep a Leo woman: 'don't let her smother you'.
What. The actual. Fuck.
Look, horoscopes and other bullshit interest me not at all. Star signs, though, I will admit to there being Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-8800299038155339522012-10-02T18:11:00.000+05:302012-10-02T21:12:46.590+05:30Say Cheese. ...Say Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
I remember being told once that 'huge' was not a word but a cheap shortcut to 'humongous'. I still can't figure out why anyone would say that.
This was at a creative writing workshop at the British Council Library. I was five or six, had not yet realized that writing formally in the first person was emphatically not my forte, and I remember writing a piece in which I invented some sort of toy Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-54242329188552222722012-09-16T14:38:00.000+05:302012-09-17T16:05:20.680+05:30Not Much Use Being The Early Bird If The Worm Is A Tubelight.
So I was going to post all the configurator screencaps I had because I have stupid repetitive graphs to plot and don't want to, and then I realized I'd forgotten one shot and went back to the Aston Martin site...and then I saw that in the Virage configurator they'd moved that damned ugly circular angle-control thing discreetly to one side.
Possibly they have plans to do that for the rest as wellCainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-42693537144897894712012-07-10T11:02:00.001+05:302012-07-11T08:55:50.649+05:30This Is Not My Cup Of Lassi.
Bol Bacchan was ridiculously fantastic (see also: fantastically ridiculous). If half the thought that went into this film were put into relatively serious movies...we'd have better serious movies (in other words, not utter bilge like Teri Meri Kahaani.) Not only was the movie hilarious (though it had its crass moments - got to please the galleries, I guess, but they can be survived by pretendingCainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-44601793360760666862012-06-24T00:00:00.000+05:302012-06-24T02:14:42.053+05:30Impartiality? When Dealing With Chauvinists?
No. No, science is not a girl thing. Nothing is a girl thing - or a boy thing, for that matter. Cars are not a boy thing, computers are not a boy thing, Sanskrit is not a boy thing: nothing that involves logic is merely a boy thing, and nothing that involves passion is merely a girl thing - either gender can possess both. And any field can involve both. Then again, men in music don't seem to Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-85117486994928814162012-01-11T20:43:00.008+05:302012-07-10T11:03:59.997+05:30I Like To Torture Myself With Logic.
Dear, dear Delhi University, I'm fond of you and all (on occasion) and I do understand your intention when it came to implementing the semester system was to try and make Indian higher education more similar to that offered abroad, but you overlooked a rather important thing in connection with all that jazz: electives. There are, for instance, two compulsory physics courses for us chem honours Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-42867677087058340402011-12-04T22:20:00.009+05:302011-12-05T00:18:09.370+05:30HI, SWEETHEART *loses voice*So I was at the annual fête (oh, caaarnival they call it now) of my erstwhile school (dear me, I feel so old) when my dad, who was parked outside in Caffeine, messaged me saying he was parked in front of a Lamborghini. At which I squealed and drove my friends crazy until we all somehow barreled out to the gate, whereupon I took gleeful advantage of possessing a David.He or she was a Gallardo Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-80568153706468870822011-12-01T21:30:00.010+05:302012-07-10T11:04:13.559+05:30Oye, Cineraria, How Was Your Paper?
Semester exams are done with. I am now going to play Mario.
I am also going to get down to the various writing tasks I have. These include original fiction of several subcategories (remind me to read up on gunshot wounds and stuff), fanfiction of one category, innumerable blog posts and at least three Cain Express posts. Oh, and random poetry. Because I have to bash my head in even for random Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-18061903562588386182011-11-12T22:49:00.008+05:302012-07-10T11:04:48.441+05:30The Sky Is Yours.
I don't know much about many specific planes except the B2 Spirit stealth bomber, which I am in love with and fantasize about and want to write fiction about and holy foxtrot strafe me, baby. That said, I'm pretty fascinated by the not-yet-in-production HondaJet. Knowing me, that's probably because of the fact that its engines are above its wings. I find this adorable. Though if its nose got anyCainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-68943097603426833122011-11-06T15:51:00.003+05:302011-11-07T13:28:17.310+05:30Le spring cleaning. Autumn cleaning. Dilli-Ki-Sardi cleaning. Whatever.HI THERE.It's been ages since Cain was here last, sometime during which she realized she had a fairly decent amount to say. She has therefore decided to resurrect this blog.I am, naturally, no longer in class ten. Instead I'm a college fresher who dabbles in...shall we say a lot of other things. However, I'm also still the same insane perfectionist when it comes to writing, which means I take a Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-54506622394697267262010-03-13T16:32:00.005+05:302011-11-13T00:36:53.313+05:30*heeheehee*Put this video up on the 'Tube; explanation included. If you're familiar with the title track of Tum Mile, you'll get what I'm drivin' at.Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-85880253989151896002009-12-23T13:11:00.007+05:302011-11-13T00:37:33.104+05:30Wonders, Wishes and SighsSo I read the book (Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynne Truss) when I was...*thinks* ten years old. And was quite delighted, since I'd noticed a lot of punctuation errors like the ones documented, and was beginning to despair of anyone (including my parents) ever seeing the grammatical light. That, however, was an age at which I was accustomed to accept any opinon, so long as it was stated firmly Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3474453462116329833.post-83193895949225083352009-05-27T00:08:00.007+05:302011-11-13T00:37:12.075+05:30Something that flowed from soul to paper. Curl up in a corner. Unobserved. Curl up with a notebook. Follow your calling. Do not pay heed to what happens around you. Do not pay heed to what people say, for they have not seen you; you are curled up in the darkest corner you can find. Do not listen when it is said that others put Cainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11188293025845518449noreply@blogger.com0