Lucidity Hurts

There are booksfor when u r bored, plenty of them. There r books for when u r calm. The best kind in my opinion. There r also books for when u r sad, and there r book for when ur happy. There r books when u r thirsty for knowledge and there r books when u r desperate. The later r the knd of books ulises lima and belano wanted to write...........furthermore desperate readers are like the california gold mines sooner or later they r exhausted why ? its obvious one cant live ones whole life in despiration. In the end the body rebels, the pain becomes unbearable, lucidity gushes out in general cold spurts..................THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES BY ROBERTO BOLANO

ends you never reach

Entangled enmeshed there are few things that doesn’t always end….there might not be any need to end them and neither does their presence matter, but they are there and so vestigial.

Even if it does matter, the paranoia of calling it immaterial is worth sticking to. It’s like standing watching sleeping and waking up to find that you are still standing and watching, to find that the change of scene doesn’t matter ….the dialogues, the story, the future of the so called story every thing is so inconsequential leave apart the fact that you still are standing and watching the change of scene that no longer intrigues you.

what if all the shows are so much alike what if you don’t like any, what if you cant stand any of it and there are no exit doors….u sleep ……..to wake up again and to find that u still r standing and watching the so very inconsequential’s of life that doesn’t always end.

OR may be not.........

all around windows but no doors to escape the honking reality. Right in front under the quotes, captioned, in bold and underlined.....so, let me eat, drink, smoke and sleep to wake up again to eat, drink, smoke and sleep again with no in betweens between me and me.....lights faded ideas blurred and i dont know who survived me or reality......

.......@@@@......

It was only a few years ago when while attending the criminal class i scribbled on the top front of my criminal book freedom for those who cant live without it. It was well taken by a friend and we gulped it together from bottom till neck. Today when i reread it i wanted to read in reverse freedom for those who can live with it. Now when it belongs its been relegated to the unaccustomed pages of life that are seldom turned upon. Some time its bartered for a spanking reality and others its there for free......and quite certainly this is how the rush of life is turning into the endless crowd of the world. The list of life may not be akin to others but the newly founded entries are simply the copied ones. May be this is what life does to you or may be this is what you allow to happen. It couldnt be both and its difficult to choose which one is actually happening. Or its the easy living easy pretending syndrome and i am not averse to the idea of running after beguiling idea of life............

stubborn desire....

It wasnt the insanity, wasnt the courage or glory.......it was a plain stubborn desire that refused to subside. So though unwarranted or undesired it carried itself and got ensconced and now when part of the system its licked the most. without much fuss and while still inside it controls the entire mush and melody of life moving it around a pity pit which should have been filled years before......

.......my fav.......

.....so when one is drenched in the ocean of adulthood holding the pleasantries of practicality, so when everyone around have taken the bath one wonders what is cleansed..every thing worth keeping was lost, in the numbness of life there is no heaviness no lightness, no right no wrong, no presence or absence. the heart beats and the fear reverberates. when the routine of morning and night still survives, one hates the absurdity of change of light & life. its then you arrive to be lost to laugh....

specific relief..........

It’s suicidal but my loyalty still clings to it…I move it it hurts, I don’t move it it still hurts…so the puzzle is to be solved even when there was never any…the confusion was all exaggerated and the paranoia…. no it was never there my infidelity never touched it even when I was leading the phantom of my imagination ….the burden was huge so now and then i dropped a bizarre smile, a mirthless scorn or a valiant laugh which invariantly spoiled my own integrity….the idea was, no one catches it and survives one generation from another holding my progeny right in front of everyone……..contempt spoiled me insidiously and behind my own back but what may it was relished the most…the idea of happiness was intriguing, appealing and fascinating it was a ride beyond all and every thing with clear blue sky meeting my own horizon …dark but still bright with a feather touch chill all around holding my own breath till eternity….. a child like amusement, a soft giggle and a contempt which was insidiously spoiling me……it was all there written behind my own understanding that i was happy…..but every time you sail you have to come back. Its like sitting in an air balloon watching the slow decent to anywhere…..what difference does it make… every time i come back I hold my breath and thrash my courage had it not been for the courage i would never board the balloon what fun is in being back….but then the ride of happiness has its own life even when it looks it can last eternity…..crippling insecurity grapples you that it could end now and here and then the sudden rush to hold the earth well below your feet to succumb to the idea of not loosing anything because its there that nothing exists…..so there is no loss…nothing…except the desire to hold the earth again…..desire to be happy again in a world that you have just left but then the moment has already passed by…..and still the idea of catching that moment in another time exists more so when you are willing to carry it till your own eternity…….