Thursday, February 18, 2010

Scary Stories, Continued…

A friend casually remarked during the Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, seeing more writers (and the aspiring variety, including yours truly) in the audience, "Seems, only writers are interested in writing these days." Attended the Kala Ghoda poetry slam and most of the audience was composed of poets, aspirants, and relatives of the respective poets and aspirants.

It's a scary (sorry, for the overuse of this word, but that has been my state of mind the last few days, after what I mentioned a few posts below, like, like, Max's providential escape) scenario. Imagine this futuristic dystopia:

Poetry readings – attended by poets and aspirants

Novels – read by novelists and failed and aspiring novelists (the second category, I would name as "critics.")

Newspapers – read by journalists and aspiring journalists and space sellers, of course.

Television – seen by politicians, aspiring politicians, cricketers, film actors, and their aspirants.

Scary isn't it?

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