kemasminda

  Investment market stock, real estate, crypto, index + hedge (privately managed) + mutual (publicly traded) funds Index fund for a variety of proportions. Index tracks the performance of stocks in a specific market (standard and pro weightage of stocks) When people are greedy, I get fearful. If people are fearful, I get greedy.  

  Adynaton:  Anagnorisis: one character discovered the true nature of a side character Assay: assessment testing for quality Autarky: economic independence or self sufficiency bifurcated: divided into two branches Parsimonious eclecticism specious Odalisque Interpolation Scurf Obdurate Vestal Lugubrious Apotheosis Insouciant peroration iatric Hirsute Vicissitude Intransigent excoriating malodorous Vintners Episcopalian Littoral Oblation Paramour Forbearance fortuitious excoriating ancillary

  the curious limited knowledge of a character helps as a POV for the audience to digest the world as well. I know a coconut seller, talks about the weather and news, I tell him my problems when I buy coconut from him. I was at a point of my life when I had to rush through my work and my personal life, where all requirements were squeezed through a bottleneck of my dwindling efficiency. I was losing energy. So he gifted me Magic coconut that rejuvenates me, he had slept with it for a day in exchange for a day of wakefulness.   I place it on my desk, and take it with me to endless worlds as a reserve potion of sorts. This is when I’m creating or reading into the night, of course. In the end I do not drink it, I stave off, saving it until it dries up. Or not. I never know because I never opened it. The weather is fine today.   He is shaded by that token coconut tree, but its charm does not lie in its shade, but how the patterns of its shadows move in tangent to the wind. Hi...

“Your hands are cold.” The madam hissed. I nodded absentmindedly as she pulled me into the small office. I then took off my outer wear and straightened my tie while watching two tree sparrows chirping on the old windowsill. The first one was dipping its beak into the rainwater collected in the depression of the window as its brother called to the sky, trilling high notes—before a thunderous rush and thrum of traffic drowned him out. I peered out through the window, and sure enough the red light had turned to green. I shot a questioning glance at madam, but she shook her head. The roads are really congested in the mornings, and sir will probably be late. I turned and sniffed my coat, which smelled foul. But that was no surprise, I thought as I took in all the dust and exhaust that clung to it. The miraculous part was in how the filth managed to stick onto my coat even after a cycle through the soft rain. I sighed, and thought that— “Do take off that helmet.” madam warned. “You’re going ...

I remember when the clouds rolled in and swallowed the afternoon sun. The air had thickened, humid as raindrops rang hot, sizzling on the tin plated roof of my living room. I remember sitting in my favourite chair, dolefully adjusting my collar while bracing for the impending storm. But as always, I wasn’t ready when it arrived. She whirled in without so much of a knock on the door, and thundered with indignation before me. I barely protested with a few fumbling gestures before I slipped below her bubbling stream of admonishment.  Drowning again in the acknowledgement of her outraged outpour, I know that the depths of my past and my sin will never be filled with suited redemption. But I understand that this is the fault of human experience.  We are built to be selfish in nature, and are often subject to defending our corrupt notions, even when we half recognize their fallibility. Even when we have the desire to attain a higher moral ground. What I did was an honest mistake, of...

 Curiosity can make you do questionable things, like overtly pressuring a poor soul in a dinner party to talk about her work when she’s definitely depleted her social battery. To the person I’ve rattled with my less than welcome jibber-jabber, I apologize and give my thanks once again. To the readers, I’ll say that it is with great pleasure and her gracious consent that I can share her story with you. She told me that she studies creatures for a living. Isn’t that sweet? Creatures, apparently unique enough to communicate in wildly different ways—all the while misunderstanding each other with unsurpassed creativity.  But she continued to say that this creativity is a strong suit, you see. It is due to this ability that these creatures were able to develop themselves into beings utilising intelligence in just over a multitude of generations! How amazing is that? Indeed, she has been observing them for years, but here’s a juicy titbit. It was from day one when she realized the cr...

ortolan  There is a conspiracy,  Watch the throaty songbird   dipping its beak into a puddle    as its brother called  to    the sky, trilling high notes    before your   thunderous rush of wings splashed wide      and a sack falls over your eyes.      into a cage you live in sedated darkness but with bars of blinding light exploding every-time your beak is pried open for darkness to force himself into your mouth. He is cold, dirty, oily, and he swallows you inside out. I open my mouth and Light pools in, its curling heat filling me whole.  A painfully pure clarity clears my head, and my hidden cracks shine. Connoisseurs of the dish wear a large, usually white, napkin over their head while eating, putting the bird’s whole body in one’s mouth – except for the head and beak – and biting it off at its neck. Some say the napkin serves to conceal the sight of diners spitting out bones, others that ...

Thunder rumbles over an endless expanse of the grey country.  A tepid swath of black rain morosely creeps under the brooding sky, thumping across the balding hills and dripping into the squalid cell blocks roughly lathered with cracked cement, pulling new stripes of brown onto the muck and rot that stuck to its walls.  A diminutive form of a boy is seen within such a cell, kneeling beneath a flimsy umbrella. The boy stays stock-still, unaware of the dark drops collecting at the edge of the umbrella and plopping into his camera bag. Amidst the soft wash of mist and spray, his calm focus held unbroken on an open petri dish in his hand. Moments pass, with months of work embedded upon this sliver of a heartbeat—and nothing happens.  A long bated breath hisses free, followed by a groan, a stretch, and a muted clatter. The petri dish breaks and instantly dissolves into the wet soil. And for a moment, the boy blearily stares at the ground, deeply inhaling the sour petrichor rele...

you have to deceive your companion before deceiving your enemy   I don't know why this is going on so long, but you seem to be missing the point, if you don't mind my saying. You didn't "miss" anything. I'm simply pointing out to you that sometimes things people say or write aren't necessarily to be taken verbatim. This was one of them. The only other point I was making is that language is not simply words on paper or online. It also involves prosody, i.e., tone, pitch, and stress, among other things. Furthermore, it involves body language and eye contact. There's just so much that can be gleaned by reading what people write, especially in person-to-person direct communication. I remember when people first started sending e-mails to one another. There were lots and lots of situations in which people misinterpreted what somebody had written to them, which led to unnecessary hurt feelings or anger. Slowly but surely, many people have learned to write e-m...

As weekend sunlight steadily warmed city roofs, strains of traffic mingled with chatter spilling about in the farmer's market. In an economy flat right above the fruit stall, the new tenant Adri watered her lily. With dry hands darkened brown with moisture, she sprinkled the remnants of her cup onto the leaves.  Adri smiled, content in an oasis of familiarity. The lily looked good—almost as radiant as it had been in her village. Her doorbell buzzed, blaring two times more as she wiped her hands and walked to open the door. Despite having texted her that he'll be late due to traffic, her boss had arrived early. With a pet carrier in one hand and tins of cat food in the other, he peeked through her doorway, and promptly walked in. "Beautiful morning, Adri. How are you? Ah, thank you so much for taking Mia for the weekend! I've got her food, don't worry. Tuna or Salmon, you decide. I couldn't!" He chuckled as he gave her the tins.   "Thanks, yessir I wil...

They have to be pushed in order to be more honest. If not they'll put on a facade. Setting up specific events to stress out their truer emotions  EVENT/SCENE Think in actions. Small shifts but visually significant. What does their action and inaction reveal about the character? Everything must be relevant/progressive of the plot. The greater their object of desire, the more they are willing to risk. Beat and Scene Beat :  as a playwright we understand that there is an exchange of behaviour in action/reaction. We can include the description of changes (as detailed as possible), or leave a " beat " open ended to how directors and actors decide and interpret.  beat by beat ; these changing behaviours shape the turning of a scene. (how the characters express, react, respond) Sequence : A series of scenes (generally from 2-5) Culminates with greater impact than any previous scene (increasing in pressure with each beat) KRAPP (Beckett) THE BODY  Kirk Wallace  [Derrick...