Happy Diwali

It seems only a couple days ago I was discussing the implosion of the Pasadena blogosphere over a beer with Frank "Crime Scene" Girardot. There was a crowded local blog community one year ago, but it's quieted significantly since Proctor re-imploded and The Foothill Cities blog pulled the plug and left behind an unlikely excuse.

But in fact it was two weeks ago, and despite life's ambient insanity, I'm guilty of blog neglect.

So I share two anecdotes from life here in the Playhouse District.

First, I came home this evening to find arcane whorls of sand punctured by unctuous, ruddy leavings outside my kitchen door. At first, I considered the real possibility my Cthulhu-cultist neighbors left these burnt offerings as a reminder of my species' pending doom.

Then I remembered they loved their gods many-limbed, not many-tentacled. Which could mean only one thing: Diwali had begun!

If I learned anything short of life's purpose, nearly a year in India taught me that Hindu holidays are an excellent opportunity to score invitations to eat tasty food. So I grabbed my sitar and stepped next door to hustle some curry. I abused a few dissonant sounds out of the thing in parallel to their wireless laptop's stream of a Diwali-themed Youtube video.


About where my desk sits on our adjoining floorplan, we made puja at their little altar and implored Laxmi to be good to us. Being that their Diwali guest-list was made of fail, they demanded I bring Ms. Vanity over because a guest-free Diwali is some bad mojo.

Their too-cute 4-year-old was too shy for a photo.

So if your Hindu friends seem extra smiley during the next five days, or they start stringing up Christmas lights, just wish them a Happy Diwali.