Torn from my notebook...

Here are a couple of corners of pages filled. They might not make sense, but I didn't want to forget where I am right now, where I was a few months ago.

1
...especially when i'm not sure as to why i should be keen on something that isn't happening, but that i'm trying to make happen. Life has, so far, just happened to me. It hasn't been my effort, well, rarely, but still, it hasn't been anything that i've done. it's just been fate, destiny and all of the forces of the universe that have thrown things at me that i've attempted to catch like a blind man who's learnt that martial art you only learn in movies where you catch something by just listening to the air whoosh by.

2
I am
like
slivers of silver oranges,
precious but only semi,
peeled and left... unnoticed.

My love
is like
an unwanted, old balloon,
deflated and chained with cotton,
to the remnants of life's celebrations.

If I am, then you are too,
if I bleed, then so will you,
if I die, then you will wish it too.

If this is what you meant,
if this is what you wanted,
if this is how you saw it happen,
then go find someone else to fuck you,
and kiss you, while you dreamhopepray
it's okay.

A little update...

I want to quit my job. Really. If there has ever been anything that could take the fun out of listening to music, this is it. I write about music; well, I'm supposed to. But I haven't felt for anything that I've written in a long time. Since March of last year, working for an article that was released in April. I wrote something critical actually, but I had fun writing it. It wasn't merely an update of what was happening in so-and-so's life, but an analysis of a certain situation, and a certain stance that the artist had adopted. Okay, fuck that, I hate talking vaguely. So the Dixie Chicks had just won some Grammys and everyone was ooh-aahing about them being so coolly rebellious. But I didn't think so. And that was the one, and only, time that I expressed my opinion...in a music magazine. I don't think music magazines were meant to suppress opinions or only print positively. I could be wrong; please tell me if you think so. I think that music magazines do two things: educate and instigate. Because that's what music does. Music educates you; life, love, politics, religion. Everything that you hear is supposed to make you think. And music instigates you. It is muse-ic (if you'll forgive the pun). It inspires you to create, inspires you to use your mind for once in your follow-the-well-trodden-path life. So that's what we're supposed to do too, right? Wrong. Apparently I'm wrong. If I am, then I'd rather be wrong than suck up. I'd rather be wrong than hope that people pick up my magazine just because I agree with them. Ooh, he's hot... Ooh, she's hot. That's all I hear. Stop it already; stop swallowing everything so effortlessly just because it's sugar-coated. That's what I did for the first 20-odd years of my life, but these 4-5 years after my 'rebirth', they have been the only ones that have mattered. Ignorance may be bliss, but it's not for me, it's not for us.

So, yea, I want to quit.

Just one last question before we wrap up...

Parents are stable.
Parents are givers, sustainers of life.
Parents give hope.
Parents are donors of love.
Parents are the foundations of our moral characters.
Parents are our emotional anchors.

So what happens when they're not?

Goal Number Two

Keep the creative alive.

Goal Number One.

Move.

Ranty Martins

would have been cooler as an angry journalist, rather than the known-only-by-i-league-lovers footballer that he is. Have you heard of him? Thought not.

Anyhoo, I've a rant for you.

Ever notice someone talking to you, or yourself talking to someone about the weather? I mean worthless, filler conversation like, "Ooh, dont you love this weather we're having?" or "Isn't it really dry/humid/hot/cold these days?" Pointless, really. And I know that I'm never going to have a conversation that's worth my time (or theirs) as long as this topic keeps popping up. I hate talking about the weather--as if that isn't obvious already. If it were up to me, and it is only about half of the time, I'd find something more interesting to point out. Ever look out and value the cars passing by on the road? I once counted one crore in about five seconds--largely thanks to the S class that passed by. I've really given up talking about the weather. You'll never find me bringing it up, unless I'm making a statement about how I feel about it. I do not want to know what you think about the weather. I'm human, (close to) physically normal, and I know that it's dry/humid/hot/cold/wet.

I like ranting, but I find myself at my most inane and least likely to make a logical point when I am. It's probably just that I hold it in, complaining to myself about it for so long, that I reach a point where I'm still in conversation with myself, just voicing it out, as opposed to thinking up both sides of the conversation. Ergo, you hear points that have been derived from logical statements, but seem to bear no resemblance to logic when pulled out of context, out of chronological order.

Oh, forget it. I'm just in a ranting mood. Have a nice weekend. I hear we're gonna have lovely weather on Sunday.

:)

Btw, momentous occasion happening here. Posting from home after aeons.