The write stuff indeed

For a while I have been planning to just begin. Begin what? Free association writing! Just penning down what flows intuitively, not letting the intellect dictate. Kind of a Joycean “stream of consciousness…”

A sultry afternoon, a hungry woman begging with a filthy child strapped to her breasts, snotty faced and drowsy, an old beggar lying on the side of the street, an Audi Q8 zips by as I cross the road, almost knocking me over.

Fragments of dreams, voices from a distant past( or future?) create the background score. I’m tired and it’s just 9 am in the morning. Sleep is my elusive lover, always tormenting me, always running away while I toss and turn in my bed.

There is a rumbling in my stomach. Is it for food? Or is it for ideas? Ideas are fast running out. They are being rendered redundant, they are escaping me. Deserting me? I’m useless or too useful?

Can the use of a person or a thing be measured in any particular, definitive manner? Is it easy to label someone as useful or not useful? Why do I think of such things? Why do I think and think and think? Feel so less? I have been desensitized. Heavily by the madness of civilization!

I am lost, yet I’ve found a part of me. I’m useless, but somewhere in the zone of feeling, has a certain shade of use begun to paint itself. What colours does it use? To paint this feeling of use!

No one truly needs anybody, but we need art, literature, cinema. In ways more than we can understand and realize, we’re slaves to our creation. We have not created that man on the bus, with whom we share a vacant stare. If he dropped dead, we wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. No we did not create him.

The only thing we have created is ourselves. Ego stems from this creation. In our mind’s eye, we’re this person- so and so, with so and so attributes, talents, sexiness, awesomeness…let’s sweep the negatives under the carpet for the time being.

We love ourselves! Can we feel love without abhorrence? Can we feel joy, without sadness? Can we truly enjoy union without the shadow of separation?

I don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to say! All I know is to survive. Breathe Oxygen and exhale Carbon-dioxide. Trees are more useful than us and here we go to chop them off, make paper, make furniture, make more shit we don’t need.

We’re chopping our own heads!

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