realisation

Huston we have a problem , over the past three odd days of my existence i feel myself cornered in a place that i dont really look forward to being at. It is kind of strange because the person who is cornering me into this place is me, and its just that the realisation of it is hitting me a little slow.

Ok as for the imaginative bit i think i did a really good job on the last post of mine leaving the canvas blank for so long so that every one else could fill it up with the colors of their imagination.

Coming back to reality , I have to state that i am really Alone and also that i dont really like it , and lastly i think i am dependent on it. Over the past three years I think i have exchanged that little semblance of Humanity which was left in my heart in favour of acquiring self dependence . The necessity of the concept of having every thing within oneself led me to distance myself from most of my friends , three people remained standing , who i was not dependant on but whos company i somehow tolerated , they have left now all three of them and i suddenly find myself in the midst of life struggeling to make new ones.

Flashback , it all began with life in hyd , the interdependance o n fairly unimpressive colleagues , who could let you down at the fall of a needle, inability to really understand most people around, refuge in self, change in behaviour -present situation. Its clear isnt it , i remember creating that funda on the terrace of my old apartment and now i can see myself alone o n that terrace , and believe me its not as great as it looked.


Where to next god knows atleast i know something now. The fundas still realy cool and i think i still believe in it but i think anything when taken to an extreme is fanatism , so hell lets just water it down a bit , but then i think meeting interesting people is still a big problem.

The Writers Blog

Another story for you all .

I love writing this all , i enjoy the idea that someone out there is reading this stuff, and then I realise that there are somany of us out there who somewhere share this common exhibitionistic pleasure.

In recent days i have been attracted to so many blogs ,they have been blogs of 21 year olds and well maybe soem even 31 and there is this drastic difference in the way we all write . They have been random people of the net, of xanga or blogspot , and some have been through comments , names i like pictures i like and so on and so forth. Call it Vouyerism , but its intense to see how every one somewhere is peicing their life togeather, living through a broken relationship , living single or plainly living in their dellusional world.

I have a few favourites now , most of them for their Humour, for the dark irony in some of them , and others just for the pure and clean feeling of fresh existence that they bring with them. Its kind of strange that friends can write in such different flavours , sometimes you would wonder how a gets along with B.

And most importantly it makes you feel that you are not the only one with this particular quirkiness.

I guess id call myself the depressive writer , cost most of my posts are about unhapiness somewhere or about the search for happiness.

Similarly some people write in third person lets say in riddles.

Ok i have to go right now works calling mayn\be i will complete this post , or maybe i will not any one of u is free to complete it if you like.

Imagination

I was thinking that in recent days most of what i have written in here has been quite realistic , I mean they have been bits and peices of life , of my life , of my desires , worries and failures, maybe its time to get a bit light , lets put some imagination into it and write something new , maybe in a different flavor . I dont quite know yet , but hopefully this should get a new feel to it soon .

But I warn you if I know myself it could be dark somewhere.

the animal

I have always known it , there is an animal in me , a not so pleasant really mean side, it comes out when i go out, basically that is after drinking loads of alcohol , i switch off and he comes on , and i dont remember no jack shit of whats happened the next day.
its scary actually .

One more night and im killing it , im killing it an im certain bout that.

The Perfect Morning , The Tired Man, an Old Love affair & Death Calling

Its kind of strange how various things are so bloody Connected , well maybe not connected but can have such simultaneous appearances.

The Perfect Morning for a friend , with the perfect light, the perfect breeze, the perfect Music in the back ground, the perfect cup of tea and the perfect Drizzle to make it known that you are not in a dream. The perfect world

And out side of it The tired man exists , shuttling day in and day out from Job to home, 16 hours in the office for two consecutive days, no time to breathe , no time to eat , chaotic focused energy , on the event , the expectations the unknown , knowing that hes missing out on life while he exists like this. Knowing that the opportunity is calling and might not call out for long , but stuck in existentiality. But the present is in its own way a different high, of aspiration of potentiality.

And then there is a Dream a dream that dose not even break on waking up and sleeping again , a dream of a past love , of her acceptance and her rejection, in disbelief the man is pulled in to a fatal attraction with someone that is now history. He dreams of the love they share , the exotic love making is intense , there is this strange tense restriction in every action and yet somewhere in the inside he knows that its all wrong. That this is not the way it is meant to be , the advice from another friend on relationships , an apparition in pieces to give advice on love, on failure , or rejection . Its intense this mix . Finally I see him Shoveling on the ground behind the woman from the past , marking a route why now i cant quite understand. He wakes up in cold sweat but wanting to go back again to that dream , the alarm clock rings and theres nothing that he can do about it.

There have been three missed calls, and a message , from a distant land, Africa. He wakes up cursing under his breath for having to wake up , for the tiredness for the lost dream . He curses the distant caller , he gets ready for office , at least it will be an easier day , he knows. And then he reads the message , "the person that he was suppose to send the medicines to , the medicines that he was suppose to send four days ago , has died. "

And then there is numbness , could he have done something to save that life probably not, the condition was already quite bad. Where did he go wrong ,well no where, but he knows that the the day will be long , the tiredness would engulf him, but it would be the perfect day because he would be comfortably Numb.

Living Alone

There are so many strange little oddities that you collect from living alone, its the best, it can be the worst at times too, but its the strange little habits , tempraments that you collect that make you so damn unsociable at times.