Saturday, August 27, 2005
  Because keeping up is difficult
Breath has an inherent rhythm. Why do I sit at the window and suffer the anxiety of having nothing to say. Invented conversations. Today again, my weakness and my lost frontiers featured together on my lips in the span of a few hours. Why can't I just be dealing with stories, following traces, following paths, not trying to re-read, re-appreciate, remember everything that I like at the same time. These stories would have mornings, noons and nights - discussions would be the altars to which I could bow down to, be humble and listen. You could say something today - so meaningful for me that I listened agog. Everything is equally difficult, equally simple. Do what you do, its all about committment - but the train leaves the station at half-fast midnight and fantasies are slowly filling up the prime real-estate of my mind.

Actually things were cut out well enough, clearly enough for me. I chose to be insecure. Insecurity can make you try playing walkie-talkie with a little dead mobile-phone.

So it is very clearly writtien in what I see - straight-on, decide today.

I have taken this decision too many times to be able to take it again.

Sometimes a question can be rendered meaningless by over-contemplation. What is the time?

Egoless, melted, semi-transparent - I sit on his laps and ask to be fed, I ask to be suckled. But the bus we are in has an accident and it topples over. It falls over the cliff and falls into the sea.

As an idea - the ride from karol bagh to mumbai and back seems interesting - combined with some exciting variations in tax and traffic-jammed delhi streets - it becomes cinematic. What all will I do?

Looking at the insignificance, the sorrowful waste, the shallowness of my experience - I seem to be resonating soundly with the other lost, limping the way back to the hotel. In a bus what do they do on the back seats, they get drunk and swear, they curse, they demand attention.

Cows of the hindi belt, we are like cows in the hindi belt - refusing to understand and mooing consistently - for the real discourse listen to the monkeys - tying a rakhi to a monkey, to a dog - the creativity in the bond?
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Lining the edge of consciousness with words which behave like timed missiles.

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