Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Why music does the trick

I just realized Heart Shaped Box is about mothers.

And suddenly I am not so dulled in the process of aging. I think I almost voluntary contributed a few seconds to the process, even as I remain unsure of which direction it is all heading.

Anyway, preconceived notions are rubbish. Like Alice in Chains say, following white lines leads us nowhere. So I am going to walk through this, blinded and deeply aroused, even if it ends with my skull broken and my body melted. But then again, most Hindus believe in never completely going out. So my sins will give way to another broken me somewhere in the age of robots and feelers. Rising out of ashes.

Civilizations bought together by similes. How sweet.

I also realize both the bands' vocal guys are dead, so their advice couldn't be the best but then what do you have saved up for me that gives my life a better meaning? You fucked us up when you gave birth to us, with our sexual preferences a replica of yours and our tastes much more destructive and expensive. Restraining would have saved you a few errs and us as well.


Sunday, August 10, 2008

Blown Away

Division isn’t a virtue solely possessed by amoeba. Twins are a freak amoeba version. Taking away half my mother and me, a dead baby left leaving me a two-level person and my mother with a purpose to find comfort in everything as it is; always living with a love for life and a curiosity for death. How daybreak and life break its dictionary definitions to blend at birth and to deflate and disappear at death.
Loneliness is a virtue that has nothing to do with physical reality. The mind by itself has much to do and much to think of and the body is a vessel with a material obsession that asserts its real-ness. Awareness is a deadly game that can crush you and scatter your ashes into the vast, overpowering grip of madness or throw you so high above you are left with a birds eye view, leaving you unaffected. Everything comes with a north and south pole and the right alignment and fine tuning is all we do all our lives. Feeling is a vice that takes you only in one direction. Being numb, on the other hand, shines on both the sick and tired, and the content. Choosing the easiest is never right. Choices are never the easiest. Ease is not a good reason for choice either.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Use your head for once

When life is in the grey, you really don’t know how to react to it, especially if you believe in changing at breakneck speed. Forgive me, but I can’t forget Joker (the Batman one). I am smiling in sadness because paradoxes are the only way to live. Balances are ill-gotten and mediocre, dissatisfaction is the sole inspiration for a scribe. If I make a mark in the world, I would be a sad person. If I didn’t…

Bloody paradox again

You don’t know how flesh, especially your own matters when it is the hands of someone you covet. You don’t feel much of an enigma anymore, just defined by the body that you accidentally bump into. You are just a piece of air around him as he comes alive, for the first time as a human. His ugliness is suddenly so beautiful. The tiny ears, the minuscule nose which barely fills his big face is absolutely the only thing you want.

Beauty is fuck-all, it hurts to think we are programmed to be affected by it. Ugliness, it makes you think; you could run all around the room just to go and puke out the blood-coloured mess that grows inside you when you see ugly and maybe when you smell ugly you will retch.

Always trying to get it out, aren’t we? Thinking we are beautiful inside and in the process of vacating the shit and the mess, we are purifying ourselves. What is that term we use to sanitize bulimia?


Little do we understand in our little unconscious minds that the removal only makes place for more. Programmed to evacuate like there’s hope. In a distant future, I’ll began overhauling my skin hoping to give you and everybody else my inner beauty (huh?): there isn’t much of it, but maybe the gloss and the kohl will fool you into thinking I do.

Point being…

I’ll always be ugly. Oh no sir, wouldn’t want to be another chord that fits right in your programmed heads. Don’t accept me, let me make you think.