I haven't done justice to what I called real-time "blogging" for the past few weeks. I wasn't able to come up with interesting ideas or stuff to write about, apart from the poems in which I repressed my feelings in a ramble of unfinished lines and imagery. It's hard to be satisfied about what one writes. There are emotions involving things that appear out of the blue and one is tempted to add more to it, make it undecipherable and more complex than ever, rather than end a poem in peace.
As Earnest Hemingway had it said, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
So, this post is going to be about unsaid and trivial things that we ignore and take for granted, on an almost daily basis. I sound pretty sombre already. But that this is not on a sad note, it's just to perk us up a bit. It's about exuding a positive aura, to take experiences and turn them into lessons of learning.
Around the 18th of last month, I was blue all over again. Like being sloshed in mud and depraved of feeling good about myself. But I stepped out of it, as a wanderer steps out of the boat as he reaches a destination. I took to reading, spent time on the Internet, wrote poetry, admired heroic characters in books and slept, for my love of reading had been rekindled. I was rejoicing with the realization of being comfortable in my own company.
It felt good by not being able to feel for a while. But one can't help being solitary or straying for too long. Jack Kerouac said, "The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..." And so, the love for people still burns...
