The Green Book
4 weeks ago
Why Editors are Gay?
PLEASE PLAY [THIS SONG] IN BACKGROUND AS YOU READ THIS POST TO FEEL THE ESSENCE OF IT.
# Unfortunately we will not be able to use this work for _. We receive many well-written, compelling, stories, but can only take a very limited number due to constraints of space and style. We wish you the best of luck in placing your story elsewhere. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.
# Due to the large number of high quality flash fiction, our decisions were difficult to make. Unfortunately, we will not be able to include _ in issue 7, but we truly appreciate your interest in _. Please feel free to submit again. We are able to accept only 4 to 5 flashers a month.
# Unfortunately, we have decided not to accept it for publication. I wish you the best success in placing your story elsewhere, and hope to see more of your work.
# We appreciate the chance to read your poem. Unfortunately, the piece is not for us. Thanks again. Best of luck with this.
# Sadly, I regret to inform you that we are declining acceptance at this time. We enjoyed the work and found many of the ideas you presented interesting, but we don't feel the story is the best fit for _. Thank you again for sharing your work with us and we wish you the best of luck placing this story in another market.
# Unfortunately, I will be passing on _ this cycle. While I appreciate the opportunity to review it, it just didn't grab my attention as well as some of the other stories I received did. Because my policy is to only accept the stories that will be published for the specific issue I am reading for and not building a back list of stories to be published, I am often forced to reject good stories simply because I don't have enough available slots and other stories just grabbed me more than others. I do hope to see other submissions from you in the future.
# We enjoyed reading it but after careful consideration have decided that we cannot use it at this time. Please feel free to submit other work to us in the future.
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# Congratulations! Guest Editor _ has selected your poem “_” for the Issue X of _ Journal. Take pride in knowing that you are among only twenty writers selected from the hundreds who submitted to this issue.
I am writing to secure the proper rights to publish your poem. But first, a note about payment. [...]
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Current Book: "The Call of Cthullu and Other Weird Stories" by H.P. Lovecraft (Since classes have started my reading would be utterly slow but FYI I'm focusing a bit on Romantic Poetry these days)
Current Music: "Sheran Di Kaum Punjabi" from Speedy Singh
Why Indians are Shy?
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It was all in vain. I almost decided not to go and turn back for the eleventh time when I finally found myself standing outside the building where the auditions were supposed to be held. The merciless sun forced me to enter inside. 
There was still a good half hour left before the auditions for a local play would begin but I could already feel my heart constantly trying to burst out of my chest in a rhythmic fashion. After a final visit to the bathroom, I landed in the corridor where presumably other people like me were waiting for their name to be called. (Not exactly other people like me as they were all 'seasoned' art and theater majors and me just a meager engineering major) I was glad that at least, these auditions were held in private in form of 1 on 1 sessions with the director as it saved me from making myself a fool in front of everyone but on the same hand it was bad to not be able to see how others are doing inside that sacred audition room - where your fate was decided in under 5 minutes.
I paced up and down the corridor slightly avoiding the closed group of all the white students, maintaining my own proximity and wondering if I even looked good, in the first place. Shyness dripped like hot sweat from my soul, it could have flooded the floor if it were as real a thing as I imagine it to be inside us Indians among Goray people. Acting would be a secondary thing but first am I even presentable on stage, among those well figured and chisel faced white theater students? What must they be thinking, what's a brownie Asian doing in here? There's still time, perhaps I can turn back, shove the cellphone up my ear and leave the corridor in pretension of attending some important call. Through the corridor, out the door, into the free and lovely sun, away from the fear of auditions and the nervousness that they brought, I wanted to hide.
My name was called and I went in to feel slightly amused at how pleasantly the director shook hands with me, and made the entire atmosphere so comfortable as if I were his holy guest.
"So which year are you?" His eyes quickly scanned the sign up form I handed him immediately upon entering, but before I could answer he had managed to decipher my scribbling, "Oh I see, a graduate student! Engineering, hmm, interesting."
I only nodded and smiled at this welcome reception, and tried to keep my answers as courteous as possible, nearly failing to hide my nervousness.
"So you were selected at the Shakespeare thingsha kshj Shakespeare thing, nice, yeah I heard about it," he continued to make comments and general questions as he read through the form when ultimately, "Allright. I'll have you read this text for me. This is from the short story _ by _, have you read it before?"
There was still a good half hour left before the auditions for a local play would begin but I could already feel my heart constantly trying to burst out of my chest in a rhythmic fashion. After a final visit to the bathroom, I landed in the corridor where presumably other people like me were waiting for their name to be called. (Not exactly other people like me as they were all 'seasoned' art and theater majors and me just a meager engineering major) I was glad that at least, these auditions were held in private in form of 1 on 1 sessions with the director as it saved me from making myself a fool in front of everyone but on the same hand it was bad to not be able to see how others are doing inside that sacred audition room - where your fate was decided in under 5 minutes.
I paced up and down the corridor slightly avoiding the closed group of all the white students, maintaining my own proximity and wondering if I even looked good, in the first place. Shyness dripped like hot sweat from my soul, it could have flooded the floor if it were as real a thing as I imagine it to be inside us Indians among Goray people. Acting would be a secondary thing but first am I even presentable on stage, among those well figured and chisel faced white theater students? What must they be thinking, what's a brownie Asian doing in here? There's still time, perhaps I can turn back, shove the cellphone up my ear and leave the corridor in pretension of attending some important call. Through the corridor, out the door, into the free and lovely sun, away from the fear of auditions and the nervousness that they brought, I wanted to hide.
My name was called and I went in to feel slightly amused at how pleasantly the director shook hands with me, and made the entire atmosphere so comfortable as if I were his holy guest.
"So which year are you?" His eyes quickly scanned the sign up form I handed him immediately upon entering, but before I could answer he had managed to decipher my scribbling, "Oh I see, a graduate student! Engineering, hmm, interesting."
I only nodded and smiled at this welcome reception, and tried to keep my answers as courteous as possible, nearly failing to hide my nervousness.
"So you were selected at the Shakespeare thingsha kshj Shakespeare thing, nice, yeah I heard about it," he continued to make comments and general questions as he read through the form when ultimately, "Allright. I'll have you read this text for me. This is from the short story _ by _, have you read it before?"
"Yes, yes." I nodded in fresh enthusiasm as I had done my homework, and after two silent readings, I read out loud the given three para's, making sure to stress on the clauses and phrases I considered important. Though I screwed up badly the last clause at the end.
The director replied in a broad smile and said those words (which could be generic and perhaps were being said to every other actor that tried but nevertheless they made me write this post)
"That was lovely. Great, lovely."
And when I thanked him for this, he added, "I will decide the cast by tomorrow but if not for this particular production, I highly encourage you to attend more auditions that are coming up this semester. Would you like me to add your email to the emailing list about those?"
"Yes, please, that would be great. I came to know about this by a lucky accident when I glanced at a clipping in a newspaper that was lying at somebody's else desk yesterday. I'm so glad that I got this opportunity."
"Wonderful! I'm not sure if you can take theater classes while being an engineering graduate but I'd definitely recommend you to get involved with us, the theater department, I'm sure we'll have lot of opportunities for you in coming future," he finished and allowed me to leave out of the room, in sort of a trance, through the corridor, out the heavy door and into the smiling sun, and I didn't know why but all the way back I couldn't stop asking myself how beautiful everyone and everything was.
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To try, try, try and not feel shy.
And those people who are winning in everything they pursue and getting acceptances where ever they submit themselves or their work, either they are limiting themselves to a too narrow a field or they are the ones who have chosen to play level "easy" in the setup menu of this game of life.
So, are you shy? Or did you try?
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Current Book: "The Call of Cthullu and Other Weird Stories" by H.P. Lovecraft
Current Music: Pink Fluffy Unicorns Dancing in Rainbows
Why Americans keep running all the time?
Because they are fitness freaks with nothing better to do would have been my natural answer a few months ago, when I used to observe them jogging in the merciless Sun while sitting coolly beside the window of the air conditioned bus, but now I wouldn't say that; this maniac jogging or running at odd times of the day whether it's bright or dark has much more deeper reasons, it gives a rare relief, for when they have ran for a mile and they know their legs won't trot a yard more, they still stagger further in greed, and that's when I believe that relief surges into their nerves, somehow, all the tension that they have been carrying for whole day long is casually forgotten, the sweat that's streaming down their neck and spine behaves as a coolant, the wind that is nowhere to be seen, seems not to blow against their body but instead glides it forward, the world simplifies itself and yields to be conquered, and they loose themselves upon the road, even if that contributes only a few feet in the battle in which they have unleashed their very souls, truly, they morph into some lone warriors pursuing winding and tortuous lanes in search of hidden glory, only if they could carry flaming torches in their hands, more would have joined them, followed them, worshiped them, but I am not going to do that anymore, nor I am going to merely observe or envy them, because, I too, now feel what they have always felt and cherished alone as I too have now begun that daily battle on evening roads, I am now becoming them.
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
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Current Book: "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf (...)Current Music: "Sweet Disposition" by The Temper Trap
Why Indians are Weird?
Why Indians are Awesome? is the real title actually. I just chose the other one so as to attract a different kind of audience from Google searches. (Yeah, no, that's not me in the picture.)
I was out with Prof. X for a conference and we were fooling around when I memorized a few snippets of our convo word by word.
1. They pass taunts- Scene 1, Act 1. [Few feet before entering a hotel]
Me: Omg, can't we try some affordable Inn? This looks like a grand hotel.
Prof X: No, this is close to Airport. Let's take this one. That's fine.
Me: (Makes constipated face)
Fat Receptionist: Sorry guys. We have only suits left. No normal rooms.
Me: (Drops jaw to floor)
Prof. X: (Draws out her card) That's fine. Give us two.
Me: (Whispers) But Prof! I don't have that much money. Can't we try someplace else first?
Prof. X: Why? You have money. It's fine, you're out of state, have an experience.
Me: Well, I don't have money. Of course, you have millions of dollars to play with in your project account.
Prof. X: (Makes very pissed off face, and is about to fire me when suddenly)
Fat Receptionist: (Barges in like a savior) Here's your total. How many receipts would you like?
And thus, Prof X. forgot about the taunt.
2. They have Arranged Marriages- Scene 1, Act 2. [At Dinner]
Prof. X: So I heard in Indiya people still do traditional marriages?
Me: (Blushes pink) Y-yes (Blushes red)
Prof. X: Aw really? I thought it was almost obsolete! You mean parents arrange everything for the young ones? (Gasps in shock at my nodding)
Me: It's slowly changing though. But yeah, it's still there. Even I'm going to do an arranged marriage. Nobody loves me :(
Such is my fate.
3. They are Greedy - Scene 1, Act 3. [In the middle of a highway]
Prof. X: So I guess we're done and we will go back to the hotel now.
Me: Umm, but, I-I was thinking if we could...
Prof. X: (Grunt) (Grunt)
Me: (Throat Clearing) I mean, just hang around a bit to see the mountains and all.
Prof. X: You have seen a lot already yesterday, there's nothing much in this deserted place. Let's go ba-
Me: But if we could- (Sobs)
Prof. X: (Grunt) (Grunt)
Me: (Makes most pitiable face in the world) {I'm good at it}
Prof. X: All right. All right. Don't worry Tanja. We have fuel, we have time, we're fine.
And thus my greed dragged Prof. X into quite dangerous one way narrow winding mountain passes.
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Current Book: "To the Lighthouse" by Virginia Woolf (NOT FUCKING recommended)Current Music: "Hotel Room Service" by Pitbull (MARRY ME, PITBULL, PLZ)
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- My little body is aweary of this great world. An Indian PhD student horsing around in Europe.
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