in this sordid tumbleweed of things that we call civilization, and human interaction these days, i realize i am a particle in a dust storm.

Too scattered to be a part of the storm, i have been picked up on the path somewhere, and now find myself in unfamiliar surroundings.

The landscape, somehow stays much the same.

Desires stay as strong as ever, and these slivers of hope do not remain unfettered by those familiar notes of rejection, pain, frustration and an overall fatigue that seems to creep into everything I do these days.

Then I feel like insanity stays a viable option, because someday If I did let down my pretenses of what I think society should be and how humans should behave and all that jazz, then i would probably be left completely insane.

Inhibited by nothing.

Free.

"I rest yet restless..."

All things come to an end, life goes on and so do Me and You.

Relativity then - in this case would be synonymous among every single human being,
An unnamed thing that looms over every one, the thing that is going to happen, sometimes it never does and sometimes it does, whatever the outcome, the finality of things is definite, as is the understanding that its over, done with, and never to be seen again.

Without saying the same thing thrice, to convince you (whoever...) or myself - our lives in this (these) way(s) are interconnected and yet it is not because the relative experience of - one person - to another may as well be zero, but the sequence of events that take place do so in a Witches Hat sort of a shape or of a Sharp Cliff (if such things would be graphed), in terms of intensity of emotion, and the intent of overcoming, acquiring, rejecting, choosing, or just anticipation, of whatever it might be that affects people on an individual level.

My whole life is thus a wavelength, uneven yet symmetrical.

All the same, yet never relative...

not really

shooting along the ganga

At the Allahabad Sangam

Understanding Atheism through Achebe

That which does not permit comprehension
allows itself to be mystified.

It is in dark and mildewd caverns of ignorance,
that belief festers

"... the problem is do i have a lot of things to say, that i dont have enough words to put it all in,
or do i end up saying everything everytime i express myself?

Or worse yet

is it both?"

Some sort of a meltdown

at 3:51 Am in the morning, I sit awake on my desk with the ugly flourescent tube-light shining over my head.

I can turn it off, and turn on my more pleasing lights,
but I don't.

This isn't some identity crisis thing, I think to myself, just an irritant.A chemically induced electrical signal, and it should pass, like everything else.

Its like a constant aching that I cant even justify, as by the end of the day, what are my trivial individual, personal, emotional, mental, gastronomical, superstitious and realistically speaking selfish and self centered problems when compared to the problems of the world.

Why so selfish?
I ask myself,
Why so self obsessed?

What am I trying to prove anyway?
and to whom?

Existence and living drags on as each day gets longer and more and more unbelievable, and all thoughts of self obsession evaporate.

Hindu mythology predicts a state of blissful mindlessness, and escape from the sorrows and cycles of life. The triviality of practically everything, and the significance of nothing

I'm really really counting on it...

Meanwhile,

I want to throw up,
I want to binge.

I want to stick my face behind the exhaust of a truck and inhale carbon monoxide
I want to drink petroleum, and light myself on fire from the inside.

I want to hide under the darkest deepest coldest cave,
I want to scream and wail of joy,
I want to laugh and rejoice of pain,
I want to run into a ditch and trip on purpose,
to shatter into a million tiny pieces,
to make peace with dust and thin air,
To graze infinity with my nose and scrape mountains with my knees

To not be able to tell where i end,
And the universe begins

To not care,

To truly Exist.

'The only reason for time is so that everything doesn't happen at once"
-Albert Einstein

Play Together

one song only

in a parallel dimension 00

wiseones

In words as fashions the same rule will hold
alike fantastic if too new or old
Be not the first by whom the new are tried,
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside.

Alexander Pope

observation

When truthful illusions are broken,
due to instincts taken as defiance of convention

Defiant of the sacred initial
Bonds become obsolete
and cautious jealous glances are all that remain external.

A state of perception split in 1/2,
floating between extremes,
almost drowning.

Distracting myself,
My thoughts now are filled with shells and seahorses,
waiting in anticipation,
of the relief that promises,
to be my end,
leaving me in suspended cliche.

Comfortably numb.

A poem to Eliot from another Hollow man

Wisps of my cognition,
float like ashes from a fire,
burning that which is already burnt.

The membranic fluids leak into the ocean,
dirty sewage water infesting,
and corroding,
and what is dynamic becomes static.

somewhat of a effect and cause relationship,
rather than cause and effect.

Constant decay,
the decay being static,
and the decaying-dynamic.

And the world is still round,
and we still breathe and exist.

The mind and the world,
metaphorically obvious representations of each other.

And we are neurons,
and we are synaptic,
and we are the chemicals,
and somewhat the balance.

The world is to end with not a bang,
a bang,
a bang
but indeed a whimper.

Meandering

“In my mind I often think of a state of Utopia in which all humans would be content and I suppose little girls will frolic around in pink clothes in gardens full of petunias and daffodils and pansies- no pun intended- and everything will be in sort of soft focus around us. Beautiful and alluring yet mystical in its own sweet way… a scene of happiness, in which all men will no longer fight wars but instead go around patting each other on the back for bringing their own significant contributions into what may be the perfect society that they live in.

Oh, and the temperature will always be just right so that no one would ever sweat…”



You may well imagine these to be the somewhat memoirs of a retard, social or actual or mechanical or spatial or general or psycho-analytical, I am not yet sure of myself. One thing I do know that I’ve always felt angry about lots of things.

There’d be no need to say things like “Oh look all around us now, there’s war and poverty and what not”… and of course its there... and once in a while there are people that do comment on such things and derive meaningful accounts and documentaries on how Effd up the world is, and how sorry everybody should feel…

Utopia being a socialist concept to begin with is the main problem… don’t you think? In this capitalist world that we live in… it now comes crashing down on me that individualism is in itself a capitalist concept…

… so then maybe I can change my mind about what I’m writing about… maybe I can say that I’ve never wanted Utopia all along , that I hate pansies and soft focus anyway…

Sharp as a blade, stupid as a chicken. A franchise logo nods in agreement.