Ramble Bamble Bee

I sit here. Trying to write. Wanting to write. But not a single story crosses my head and all my thoughts seem irrelevant and completely pointless. My life at this point seems completely pointless. And I’m in search of a point, some point, that I can move towards.
No such luck. Luck is something I haven’t been lucky with.
And then the phone rings.
And then I ignore it.
I ignore it not because I am a recluse and don’t believe in telephones and people and what they stand for; I ignore it simply because I couldn’t be bothered to move my fat ass. And it is funny because they call it a mobile, but it is the last thing it is. I have to move to pick it up. It moves because I move, without me it is but a dead inanimate thing that is anything but mobile.
Press me, on. Press me, off. Its a funny world isn’t it.
Maybe I should listen to some music, fatass just doesn’t want to move today. Fatass is content sitting on fatass and typing alphabets from the English language in ways that could never be imagined by Pedro, the illegal Mexican immigrant who lives in California and works the night shift at Burgerking. But then again he can type in a language I can’t type in but then again he probably doesn’t own anything to type on but then again I could be wrong.
The world is changing.
The real reason I don’t move is because I cannot. I cannot because last year I was reckless. And recklessness leads to immobility, not always but in my case it did.
Sometimes the things you don’t want to remember are the things that you cannot forget. They play out in your head over and over again like someone pressed the repeat button on the playlist of your memories. You want to stop these memories, pause them, delete them, cancel them. But you can’t because you think you control your head but you don’t. Your head controls your head and you don’t control anything.
The sad thing is you control everything.
I didn’t have to go to that party that night. I didn’t have to mix my drinks. I didn’t have to steal someone’s car keys and take off.
But I did. I wish I didn’t. But I did. I wish someone invented a time machine and requested me to test it out. I wish alcohol didn’t make you foolish. And I wish could walk. But I can’t.
I am fatass. Pointless. Legless. But not wordless.

Fly.

Silent night. Holy Night.
All is calm.
You walked into a bar.
The stool was too high.You sat on it anyway. You reached for the stars and they gave you beer with a fly in it. Crawling for life at the bottom, of a glass, of your glass. What a life. The life of a fly. The life of someone who has wings. Wings that make you fly, and make you stupid enough to explore the depths of a glass full of beer.
Beer is sour . Stay away from it be you person or be you fly.Because my friend, Rules are rules. Broken to be broken, meant to be meant.

Writers Blocked Arteries

I’m stuck. I’ve been stuck. For 5 weeks now, or it could be much more than that. But when you’re stuck your sense of time and space get altered. You’re aware that time has gone by, and is going by as you speak, as you talk, as you breathe and your aware that the earth has made its share of rotations around its axis as well but alas your stuck, on your axis or on that part of your body that describes you more than anything else in the world.
Bum. Extreme bum mode.
I want to write . So much, my mind is like one of those old grandfather clocks, it needs to be wound to tick again. For the time being its been ticked out.
But will someone come and wind me up or this time will i have to find a way to wind myself up in order to get ticking again.
I indulge in indulgence.
I am surrounded by this chemically induced illusion.
This chemically imbalanced equation.
This lack of motivation.
This fight for ideation.
All I seek is freedom. All I seek is perfection.
But I can’t seem to move.
Friends, people come and fill these empty spaces in my head and make me forget. Make me purposeless.
The alcohol is entering my system right now, soon I will be passed out or fucking in the bedroom with the lights out.
The drugs make their way through my passages uplifting every molecule and making it free. And thus, making me free.
How can i take advantage of this upliftment. By lying around motionless like a coral in the coral reef?
Movement seems hard especially when you’re stuck.
But I promise you one thing, I was meant for great things and great things were meant for me. Its my soul mate as I am its. And we will find each other, maybe not today or maybe not day after but soon. Soon enough. Enough is Enough.
I shall unblock these arteries.

3am depression

Right now i feel to put it quite simply really sad.

And what makes me sad is I want someone to unconditionally listen to me. And not tell me its okay. And how everything will be perfect. Because it wont. Because the future cannot be predicted and the past cannot be changed. And all you have is this moment that your stuck in until that moment too passes on and then its gone and your left with nothing but an emptiness that you fill constantly try to fill and refill time and time and time again. And you seem to fail, because just when you think you've filled that empty space you realise its as empty as it was, and nothings changed.

Feelings and emotions are not relative entities. They cannot be compared. They are personal.

Pain is my Pain.

Sorrow is my sadness.

Love is Love.

And i might feel pain because I can't get the man of my dreams, or the life of my dreams.

And pain is also losing your child, or mother.

And why should my pain be lesser or more. Because i feel my pain, and i can try to feel yours but i will never. Because feelings and emotions are personal.

And i dont know about love. i dont want to even try to understand it.

And i guess i dont even need to since im pretty sure im goin to go about life without any of it.

And im not talkin about the love from my family, and im probably not talking about it because i dont know. They love me so much. More than so much sometimes, most times. Than why is it that i feel like i want something more. Am i not being fair them? Do i not think their love is enough.

Why do i feel so unloved.

And so ungifted and untalented.

I mean when i look at mylself i just see the most average person. Below average sometimes.

And what i hate is how noone really knows how i feel. Sometimes i wish i didnt act like i am perfectly fine with the way my life is. Because im absolutely not.

I dont know what i want.

And i dont know whether i want to know what i want?

Random Banther of the consumed soul

Don’t ask me what I want. Ask me what I need. Because it is in asking that you receive. And it is in receiving the wanted that you are granted even if for a period of 5 seconds the joy of happiness and the love that you never knew until you got the wanted that you needed and asked for.
Its quite a simple theory really. I know it seems hard to understand at first. And youll sit their on your buttocks wondering what it really means. And you will add and you will subtract and eventually come to a derivation that might quite possibly be a hundred and fifteen percent correct but my guess is you wont. Because you will read between the lines, more than you should and that will get you into trouble. It’s at the surface most of the times, we just don’t choose to see it. We decide to delve deeper into a depth that is no deeper than your feelings for sponge.
We were born shallow. We crave depth.
We are scum really. Or maybe even worse than scum. We fail to ever ask, or even if we do it is in the depths of our membranes existing like thoughts, existing like ideas, existing like the increase in hormone levels, existing like love.
Even love is a pretty fucked up thing. You want it and then you get it and then you don’t want it and then you don’t get it. And then you want it and don’t get it. But either way its not the best deal. Its actually not a good deal at all. Infact, I reckon it’s the worst deal of all. But its okay. We land shit deals all the time. Like getting born to the wrong family, like marrying the wrong bloke, like getting felt up by a strange perverted person on some public form of transport or just getting smashed and kissing the wrong guy.
But whats beautiful about it all is despite the shit deals, despite the wrong needs, despite the incorrect wants, despite love we manage to smile, we manage to laugh , we manage to feel and most of all we manage to live.
And that’s what makes me believe in the human species is this constant moving ahead. Moving on.
Evolution. Adaptation. Darwin.God.
I could stop now. But I choose to go on, and hence you can sense the humanity within me.
Just to know that humanity exists and its not just a string of letters, and a word in a 100 odd dictionaries. Just to know that modernization, globalization can try its hardest to rob us of this humanity, but it will fail to make us not feel any longer.
Because if theirs another thing we are capable of , it’s the ability to feel. Maybe just a pat on your shoulder when you do good at something you worked hard for, maybe the taste of saliva from your first kiss, maybe the stethoscope at the general physician, and maybe the kind of feel, that cannot be described because it is not felt by our 5 senses: the gustatory, the olfactory and the rest. But the kind of feel that exists in your heart when you watch happy endings. Were all suckers for happy endings. It’s the path we choose to reach this ending that determines the extent of happiness we feel at the happy end.
Some choose work, some choose family, some choose money, some choose drugs. And then there are those who switch choices based on convenience. And then there are the others who don’t make any choices at all. I feel bad for them. I really do. But you know who I feel the worst for. It’s the ones that don’t get the privilege of making this choice , their the ones who die before their cognitive abilities enable them to make a choice. I cry for them. Because they were young, because it wasn’t their fault. But I cry most because they are deprived of a choice that could have lead them to the happy end.
Now amy wants to use the computer so I shall stop typing out whatever it is that I am typing. My creative stream of thoughts are being interrupted because of the needs that facebook has created for young teenagers like amy and others(PROJECTION). Indeedly it is sad, but what is sadder is we’re all victims of this nonsense.
Facebook? More like facehooked.
Buh.

Mary J speaketh

We could try to make a difference.
We could try to unmystify this mystical mysticism.
But alas you would fail.Just like I did. Or would if I tried.
Just like your grasping powers would if you were Bengali and were trying to understand a French song unless ofcourse in grade 9 and 10 instead of hindi your school offered French and you chose that over our national language i.e hindi.

But I will not curse you and make you feel little for chosing a foreign over a native, im talking in terms of language ofcourse. Although if the chosing involved choclates there would still be only the lack and pure lack of condemnation. Afterall those toblerone bars really do make amul ‘so called choclate’feel like the little brother of George Clooney who ended up being a janitor at his local Highschool because he was a ‘dumbfuck’ to put it quite simply.
I specialize in random. I know it sounds like one of those made up speicalisations like biometric anthropology. Or wait a second it is possible that the previously stated specialization was indeed made up. Whatever be the case.
Ramble bamble bumble bee.
Shut up or I shall fuck thee
Happiness
Life
And so much more.
Ya hear you whore
You get the drift.
Floor 3, hurry lift.
Pfffft.
And I stop right. Here.