Are we real?What if we are somebody's imagination....

why don't i conform to a category?why must i always be a contradiction? no seriously.i am not aroused by bangla uponnyas,i don't see myself as a sports-lover[ forget joining the sachin tendulkar community],I find Harry Potter immensely childish but can't wait to re-read it every time i am down.i am mesmerised by Gauguin and yet lack the talent to paint.i love photography,the conceptual delvings of each and every black and white contour,their revelations but i cannot deliver a single meaningful one;i love the greens,wildlife to be precise and i am also 22...but i have not joined any project as yet;i guess am not a geek,neither the opposite.....but then i do know what i love...hours on the net over comic strips,Post Impressionist exotica,Woody Allen off late,The Stranger on a rainy afternoon,blackouts,Warhol for a dash of color and random information on the best available conditioner for my hair.....i think i forgot to mention Amy Winehouse.

i do feel good buying a lot of junk.it takes my mind off things.certain things.certain times.
cocoa does the work at other times....though today's slab contained raisins...i hate those stuffs.

present mood:blissfully indifferent towards an impending 'jhor'...[vivas n term papers].

mere anticipations of a storm,under soporific conditions..[.yawn!]...when will i ever learn...really!!!The shivering inside me refuses to subside...what might have belayed it has lost all hopes of arrival....i am tired of nebulous assurances in future tense....[yawn]....can't keep my eyes open.

such is a divine manifestation...you intuit and then you call yourself crazy.such is your existence-profane, real,deceptive....and surrendered to the same banal grind- cognised...and yet you call yourself crazy.When almost palpable sufferings begin to haunt ,you decide to keep your eyes wide shut;such is your timidity.you are so helpless you shudder to let go of your defeatism,it is the only skin you can hold on to....like the last bark of the dying tree.But i understand.I do.Because,when all guidance leads to an impasse,you have much less to straddle with.....and yet you had intuited all that....long ago...and now you call yourself crazy.

What i Had Been Doing

tried relieving my friday night ennui with John Dunn's mindful construction of Locke on one hand...Stephen King on the other,the much convenient indulgence going towards the latter.Audaciously refused dinner and survived on a glass of chocolate milk.Cried a bit for the 'self ' at the dead of the night[really no reason]...and finally my friday night came to an end.

Mid-night Sun

You might not believe me but there is so little i want from this place.i might have consciously shrunk my expectations or maybe it has stopped mattering to me any more.i don't even cringe at the sight of those much simulated smiles,masquerading deeper intentions.Infact i smile back,not because i have to.i w-a-n-t to.i have stopped feeling much.
Today,looking back at the distance i have walked away makes me dizzy.The unbridgeable chasm has infected much of it,rotting it with time.It is an impossibility to walk back anymore.maybe.Else i havn't tried.But i don't want to.Still you won't believe me.
Havn't i mentioned a thousand times before,i am sleepwalking,through this all?But now i want to wake up.The hour is upon us.The Hour seems near.

i feel asphyxiated.
a little too many times,a little to easily.....and there is more than one Othello to stifle ...with tender care.

it was the much insistent voice....oh yes, simply and pretty audaciously refusing silence,not having accomplished its mission;that and the very eidetic visual recollections that finally shoved her forward....towards something that needed much more than regular valiancy.The squelching of an ego needs something more than fortitude.....so they say.....And all that while she atrophies away......