Ahoy! There.. captain.. sahib

It must be nice to pick up the pen and just start writing again. I was naive enough to think i'd outgrown it; this unstoppable urge to write. it didnt matter what i wrote, the point was that i wrote. But i was too naive to think that i was no longer naive. And now im back to being naive.

Nothing much has changed.

Oh but it has. But has it? I don't know. I think i have matured in certain ways don'tyouthink? But i also think i have unwittingly carved out this pretentious air of maturity for myself which has run out the course of its illusion. I have bared myself to myself again. But i dont think i've been fooling a lot of other people.

But maybe this is the illusion. And this apparent expose of myself to myself is intself a trick brought about by stress. Look there! yes there; that way lies paranoia.

Well, whatever. I have been busy. At least my level of activity has been steadily increasing. I am trying to cope but intensity levels are still rising, Captain! permission to focus on riding the wave until it reaches its peak! Permission granted.

Am i getting any less cryptic here? I can't tell

Unresponse

Not long ago there was a time where i could write uninhibited by anything. By opinions, by the need to be recognized, by wants and desires, everything would just slip away in front of my verbal onslaught taking the sword to anything and everything that got in my way. But that time has slipped away from me now, this blog has changed me.

You know when your ideas are flowing right? and when you require next to no effort for them to come onto virtual paper? when you dont have to put pressure on yourself to come up with some witty remarks and keep pumping the joke machine like an emptily hissing bicycle pump?

Typing while trying to watch the screen is hard man, Iv always been a chap who'd look at the keyboard while typing. My imagination is dead man.

Or is my imagination a dead man?

My life just keeps flowing; ebb and flow ebb and flow. These are my darkest thoughts but i think i am a born pessimist, simply that self realization makes me want to stop all this and go back bed and sob into my pillow. Nothing happens to me that is interesting nothing happens that is worthwhile. I am a depressed worthless creature. And those who are foolish enough to love me, to follow me, there is nothing worse you can do. I suggest you fly away from this senseless pursuit now.

This is transmagoric, meaning it transports me somewhere on the mental plain but it only seems like i am on top of a cold ridge looking down on the blank depression that once was me, looking down on that seething mass of black monsters innocently playing around in a cleft in the hills. I am on the ridge now due to my thoughts having transported me. I am waiting on this ridge i am sitting on my haunches watching the cleft in the hill.

But there is nowhere for me to go. I will live on that ridge for a while and enjoy the cool breeze that ruffles through my hair but then i will just get bored and want to go back into that subclavian open air cave that is the mind that i am used to. A negative mind, a pessimstic self loathing mind. I have nowhere else to go and no other option but to live in my mind.

And in these dark confines, i reject all human contact and throw pity parties in which i ravage and bleed to my hearts content 'til the dawn breaks.

And as the cold morning air heralds the sunshine i forsee a new day, a new way. Absolved of all the bullshit of yesterday. Absolved of the negativity and the pain. Of the self induced delusion and the magnification of someone else's influence on you. Why fall prey to some worthless relief from the honesty of your soul? why be afraid to accept the uncoventional light that shines upon your insides? Why be afraid to accept the truth on which that light shines?

And why be afraid to let a part of you forever remain underground? you need that. you need that positive self delusion. delusion is not a bad thing, it is simply an interpretation of what is. What is can only be one thing. But our presence behind our eyes changes that one thing, and it is transformed as its glow permeats the backs of our eyes and its light is changed as it shines in on the inner chambers of our minds.

Therefore, the world is different to each of us. Subtly and radically.

Plastic Guns

dust
dust as i play cricket day and night
ride my bike through by roads and more by roads
dark skin
darkened to a beach black by constantly being in the sun
friends
taunt you and you fight, alliances are formed
nothing unites except mutual hate
but that was play-hate
we'd all unite over a quick game. plastic guns.
shooting each other to glory
except i didn't own one
nope, no plastic guns for me
no guns no violence, my parents were adamant
no swaying them there.
I wonder if i am a different person because of it?
i wonder if all the kids who were allowed plastic guns are scarred in some way that i don't know of?
but it didn't last, so there is no point in wondering is there?
cos at my first b'day bash after 3 or four years, i was seven
i got some plastic guns, and my parents didn't have the heart to take them away.

So im not scarred am i? or am i just as scarred as you, and we don't see each other's scars.
cos they're probably normal to all of us.

Rock Saturday, my first experience with a joint
i didn't smoke one then though
my first would come later, with a girl, innocently stoned, nineteen years old.

I burned, the first cut was the deepest and yet
i learned

From plastic guns to my first joint
the road was a bumpy ride
walking in the sun cursing for a ride
crowded trains growing pains
the usual life
of a windblown kid, teenager, adolescent, adult
and im still growing.

here you go mixedblessings89, thanks for the tag i enjoyed writing it! and open tag, just start with something that reminds you of your childhood and take it from there..

Who wants to be an escape artiste..

Lafayette heard them from afar. Gonzzales with the wheel, Peiter Deschovsky with his caramel ball and Freud snorting, holing up on that magic dust again

Escapism comes in all forms and shapes. all dreams and wishes stem from the need to escape, to get away. In the pages of a book, in the solitude of ones room, on a beach, in a coffee shop smoking a cigarette. A dream of a counter reality of sorts. A hope that suddenly the curtain will lift and everyone will shout 'surprise!!'and then you'd actually be in the real world.

A happy world. Where no one woked. where no one had to slave within capitalist greed to feed and clothe themselves. A world where the truth wasn't an obscure offshoot of what the majority took for granted, where it wasnt hidden beneath endless layers of lies and half truths, which were no better than lies anyway.

Yet we live on in the world of grime and dust. deluding ourselves on a daily basis. Ignoring what our eyes see and what our ears hear. Choosing avenues put forward by proponents of greed and industry. Choosing ignorance in pursuit of comfort, in favour of truth and hardship.

Good luck to us. We'll need it. When the sky falls and the universe destructs, when black holes open up and we are dragged within to be atomated and taken apart. Yes i make up words but so what? we use words as they are today because someone somewhere made them up. So get off your high horse already.

But luck won't save us. There's no putting off the inevitable. We can push it forward one more day and tell ouselves that tomorrow, tomorrow will be the day that we shake off this sheen of falsity and bow down to the voice of our conscience and turn over a new leaf. But tomorrow we will blame something else, some new force not within our control like that guy at McDonalds who looked at us in a funny way, to put it off another day.

And another day and another, 'til finally we die and there are no more tomorrows. Only possible eternity to cope with. And by then luck won't help us. Nothing will.

Do I LOOK like a people person?

Where do you go when the world lets you down?
When all that you’ve clung to has fallen to the ground
When the pillars that held your roof up safe and sound
Come crashing down

Where do you go you little sensitive soul?
You poor little boy,
Surrounded by so many yet always alone?
Now where will you go my son?

Where will you go when the sun stops shining?
Where will you go when the moon does not rise?
Where will you go when the waves stop crashing?
Where will you go when the river reaches its end?

And when will you be happy at the rate that you’re running?
Running away from everything you know
Too scared to touch, too proud to experiment
Too bad for your soul, where will you go?

Guys, the scum of the earth?

Reading the Messiah of Madness’s take on guys, at least her latest rant on the male species that was published on her blog (which she keeps changing the name of) a short while ago. I was a bit speechless, yet felt inclined to leave a comment to credit her masterful analysis. But I was quite literally stuck for words so all I could come up with was a quite subdued ‘erm..’

The Messiah outlines how a very good friend of hers was quite literally taken on a ride by this 22 year old ‘super-player’ who took it upon himself as a challenge to disprove her religious and conservative values and make her fall in love with him. Hmmmm.

She was of course, not trying to start an inter gender war of words or offend anyone. She made it quite clear that her statement was directed at only a certain part of the male species that acted like the afore mentioned guy and she admits as much when she says;

“ Guys are the neeking scum of the earth!!! K… not all… but most!!!”

That’s all very well. But her little post pushed my thoughts down a tunnel that I’ve been down before. So much so that I decided to sit down and write about it. All guys get a particular satisfaction when girls fall for them. It is flattering. It makes us feel good about ourselves. It gives you confidence in your battle at getting that elusive princess you have been chasing for quite a while. It tells you shortly, that you are an attractive and proud specimen of the male half of your species and that you have nothing to worry about in your ultimate quest to find a suitable mate. I suppose it is the same for girls as well.

The guy in question, at first glance, seems nothing surprising. For his kind is not rare. The kind that goes out of the way to get that attention. The kind that will do any unscrupulous thing in the book (and certain things that are not even in the book) to get a woman to sleep with him. I know few of them myself. They tend to waste an enormous amount of resources. Time, money, physical effort and tend to use all available mental capacities to accomplish it. They will go and meet their potential ‘prey’ wherever and whenever it is required. They will talk endless nonsense over the phone for long, long hours etc etc. but as far as I know, it is mostly in search of sex. But not always in a dirty way; mostly they are somewhat lost souls looking for satisfaction and fulfillment coupled with mental comfort and the sensation of being loved by a woman. Ego feeding I guess you could say.

But this guy strikes me as a bit different. The word ‘challenge’ and ‘love’ flash out at me. Apparently he wooed the Messiah’s friend as a ‘challenge’. To see if he could make her fall in love with him. He doesn’t strike me as your typical sex starved emotionally dependant individual. As a matter of fact, a part of me thinks maybe this guy actually likes her friend. Maybe one day he was walking down the road and he saw her, and he fell in love with everything that was her. Her eyes, her face, her hair, her voice, her manner, her walk, her feelings, her emotions, the very breeze that circles around her face, the very ground she steps on. Ok maybe not the ground she steps on. I have always found the whole concept of kissing the ground no matter who walked on top of it quite gross.

So maybe he considered himself such a hot shot and player and someone so special, that he couldn’t be going about falling in love with any and every single girl he meets. But he knew he had to have her. So what could he do? He couldn’t let her go. But at the same time he knew that he would not feel complete as a man if he couldn’t make her fall for him. He had to convince the world that here was man worthy of such a prize!

Or maybe the Messiah was right and he really is a creep. If that’s the case. Then he’s probably a real cold hearted sadistic pleasure seeker. A real conniving SOB, hell bent on self satisfaction and giving f*** all about other’s feelings. And we have had enough of those in the history of the human race to fill up hundreds of books.

Anyways, I hope the Messiah doesn’t mind this :). By the way, that girl can write, no matter how disillusioned she might be as to the extent of her abilities. And Lady Divine's raises a very valid point about women in her comment as well. so maybe the scum of the earth are just the scum of the earth. No gender discrimination involved? How politically correct.

Searching….Imagination…can’t…find….Anything!!

Ook.. so this is inspired by Dramaqueen inspired by Dee Cee inspired by Gutterflower.

I have a thing for these kinda mind exercises and like to then sit and think about the quirky things that come out. Haven’t given much thought to the below. Doing so would have spoilt the spontaneity and originality of it. I don’t know if that’s the way it’s supposed to be done, but that’s the way I did it. Enough rambling. Here we go.


I remember everything that happened with her

I don't care a damn though (at least I think so..)

I want to move on with my life. Continuously.

I hate my ‘sucker for love’ attitude

I wonder If aliens exist

I have never seen one though

I know nothing much


And because Dramaqueen wanted to ‘stimulate her creativity even further’ which i think is a good idea, I shall try that as well:


I live for tomorrow

I desire wealth and power

I love money and beautiful women : )

I need some satisfaction!

I revel in pain and rejection.


Now that’s something to think about…

A somewhat murky and disconnected analysis

I have always been somewhat of an outsider when it comes to the existing social norms. My recent fully fledged excursion into the Sri Lankan blogosphere has proved to me nothing less. Kottu seems to be a melting pot of some very diverse thinkers. People who are not afraid to be radical, people who are not afraid to pose tough questions and people who are sometimes downright rude. But it’s all good; it’s all pretty refreshing after being immersed in a world of fakery and smiles, covering up stabbing of rear ends and talking behind the same. It is nice to get upfront and personal and in your face biatch! Now and then.

But in my objective look at the bloggodrome around me I have come to observe and form some early opinions of the creatures that are known as bloggers. Especially the community at Kottu. We are a homely bunch I feel. Feeding off each other’s misery, happiness, greed, ambition etc. I know in my limited time and vision I am not in a position to judge - I will do so anyway, and you will be more than welcome to correct me - but it is a community in itself. It has its mavericks, its conformists, its radicals, its geeks, jocks and so on and so forth. Some are pretentious; more than a few. I guess all human beings have a natural tendency to be pretentious. Including yours truly. I don’t know. But what is refreshing is the amount of people completely being themselves. Individuals actually putting in an effort to break their fears of losing social approval and simply lash out at the world with everything they’ve got. Revealing all, holding back nothing.

The blogger I feel, at least the one who writes bent more on a personal note; one like me for example. Is a somewhat self obsessed, somewhat gloomy character. Pondering on the aspects of life that are usually exempt from general everyday conversation, the blogger feels a need to release. And to be heard and responded to. The blogger needs to vent sometimes, he needs attention. But that is nothing abnormal, we all need attention sometimes. Sniff sniff; (.

This community, I feel, is a community of outsiders. But that is nothing abnormal, I think deep inside everyone is an outsider. Because no one is a carbon copy of everybody else. Therefore a part of you is similar while a part of you is different to the collective human psyche. So it must be the case that at some time there happens to be a person who prefers to exult in his difference to the whole, rather than in his similarity to it. Perhaps to the people in this community, or those of you who I am intrigued by; blogging is a way to revel in your outsiderness (if such a word exists).

Well to put an end to this rather gloomy post, The Whackster would like to reiterate that this was just a random rant and no empirical analyses and experiments were conducted in its production. Thoughts flew out based upon concrete observations and demanded to be documented because they were naively self-important. Any lab rats and animal testing was strictly confined to the realms of his mind and no living being was harmed in producing it. And to those of you extreme individuals whose blogs I so enjoy reading; keep writing so I can keep reading. I have hunted and failed for a method to bring this post around to a point where I could finish it off with a sly witticism perhaps, followed by an exclamation mark, but the mood will not allow it. It is pleasantly melancholy. So now, I shall stop.

Message in a Bottle

A green little bottle, the cork is screwed on tight. The genie inside might not or might, be waiting to tell you a story of light, a story of darkness, with thunder and flashes of white.

Three wishes my child do not ask for more. Your life can be changed for now and evermore. And for the rest of eternity you will reside, in peace and in riches, i do not lie.

Contemplating the wisdom of the attempt to be made, the mind is taken on a journey of hope, a thrillseeker, the thrills are here to take.

But there is always and will be a price to be paid.

It is the bite of the darkside, the deal is your soul. Live in the light my child all mighty and bold, at the end of your time, the secrets will be told.

And then the darkness will swallow you whole.

Throw the wretched bottle back into the sea, the temptation is there but it is not for me. Destroy it I must yet so should it be? but its too late, the bottle is already out of reach.

If you see it, destroy it.

That was a public service announcement :-)

Perpetual Fear

He is stuck inside his cave hugging his knees,

The situation is grave, all around him the darkness of fear,

Outside the sun shines a glimmering blur, as seen through a sheen of water.

The painting swarms in front of his eyes, forever shifting shapes,

He can see her face, her eyes, his future, his dreams going to waste,

That place, his race, his pace, his age

His face, his name, his date, his eyes.

His pain knows no disguise, it is visible to all but only a few decide,

To have a look and see inside,

And what will they find?

A writhing mass, writhing tall?

A seething pit of blood and gore?

He hugs his knees and bows his head

He lives in perpetual fear.

He refuses to believe the sunshine is real, he refuses,

His fear to him is far dearer.

Bodysnatchers

It swirls and whirls as it covers everything before you, the misty mountaintop and the concealed edge of the cliff. Uncertainty and doubt will rule your conscience till your foot meets the ground again safely. You dread that step that will take you down plummeting through nothing to meet a splattering end. Visions of falling, visions of screaming fill your mind, coupled with the consciousness of your lack of knowledge as to where you –quite literally- stand, you freeze on the spot.

Your eyes are wide and every muscle feels tensed to bursting point. You are frozen with fear. And now you have no choice but to remain frozen until the mist clears and sense enters your head once again, loosening your muscles and enabling movement with its gentle lubrication.

The climax has come and now I am stuck in a position where the possibility of happiness meets endless bleakness on the horizon. I am a sailor sailing my little craft with its little white sail. Sailing is all I have known and all that there is for me to do in this life. The ocean is all I see and it is all around me on all sides. It is calm and the sky is a glowing reddish bronze. The horizon is all my eyes meet wherever I turn and happiness blends into the bleak sky and spreads on into infinity.

And yet I stand.

Deja Vu

I remember the dream now. Two people who could have been me. Considering their options. They both were exactly same until this point. They were faced with a choice, and an option that they both wanted. And that’s when their universes split apart. For one choose to be enterprising and take on the world and expel fear. While the other, well the other chose to give into his fears of failure and decided that not knowing if he would ever succeed is much better than giving up the effort and not going through all that heart rending suspense and potential for disappointment.

So the fearful one simply returned to the safe base of home while the courageous one went on diving into the waters of uncertainty to catch the fish of success. And their universes forever split apart and the person who was one in the beginning is now two people living in two parallel existences.

An Echo of a Narcissist

On the eve of another weekend and I’m feeling so goddamn down. My finals start on Monday and I’ll be done by Friday. Imagine that eh, one and a half years of dedicated work and now I am finally wrapping up my dip. But Friday will also be the day when I kiss my love goodbye. One and a half years of motivation to come early to class every Sunday morning was definitely a good thing. Yet it is sad that it was never anything more than that. We talked, we laughed, had lunch together. Ah, I have some good memories with that girl.

Generally depression tends to take over me at odd times of the day. But strangely I am always happy in the nights. It is like all the possibilities, hopes and dreams of the next day manifest themselves as something more solid than mere fantasy. Yeah well, nights are definitely my thing I suppose. Or maybe this is just a passing illusion and the nights are just the best time of the day for me right now.

whatever said, my mood swings are so unpredictable that they just suddenly take over me out of the blue. it is like one moment i am all bubbly and the next; boom! lol but one good thing is that I now know that eventually the gloom will lift and i'll be myself again.

I am natutrally a melancholy person. I dont know, but some part of me will always like sitting down with a grave expression on my face and thinking grave thoughts. i suppose it is what i use to differentiate myself from the rest of the human race. sort of an attempt at playacting at being one of those Philosophical Greats i've heard about and admire.

i am an eternally self obsessed narcissist. or is it right to say it like that? i mean, if you're self obsessed then you have to be a narcissist, and if you are a narcissist then it goes without saying that you have to be self obsessed. i guess it was the wannabe philosopher in me again trying to impress. so i guess he will now have to decide whether he'd rather be called a narcissist or just self obsessed. let him ponder that.

while he is being kept busy, let me give vent to another of my personalities. notice i did not say 'split personality' and that is because there is nothing split up about my personalities. they are many and constantly mixing themselves up with each other to form new, and heretheto non-existent forms and always give in their input and jump in during the mental processes of my brain. Even, and especially, when they are not asked to do so.

But i would generaly describe myself and a person who is generally satisfied with his suroundings.

This brings me to the personality I was talking about. the Analyst. even at this moment the Analyst is analyzing what i am writing and together with the PR guy is trying to convince me to not be so open with the outside world. the reading of various crime and conspiratorial novels has left the Analyst eternally suspicious about what to reveal and what not to and he undergoes extreme pains to try and figure out how the individuals in his life will interpret what is being revealed and how every nuance will affect his future in different ways.

This attack is however counterracted on a constant basis by the Idealist and the Experimenter (who might just be one and the same; i do not know yet) who claim that putting yourself out there in nothing but raw and brutally truthful detail is too good a chance to miss. The I & E is almost sadistic in his intent to break all emotional and protective barriers of his psyche and takes an almost maniacal glee in doing exactly the opposite of what the Anylyst recommends.

Yet I&E is not a total psychopath. he will stop where logical reason dictates he must. He will stop whe he understands that his actions will definitely result in some unfavorable outcome. the Idealist & Experimenter (knowingly or unknowingly) often takes it upon himself to prove or disprove the sometimes outlandish, yet mostly reasonably acceptable, theories of the Analyst.

Well teamwork is alway a good thing is'nt it?

Until next time then peeps, the Narcissist (I think he's decided on that for now)has left the building.

Rejection

The uncovered beunovista of the fledgling and the masses. Rears up its ugly head and looks me in the eye. Will it attack? I rather think it will not but its baleful glare pierces my brow and defends the equality of the Magellan triangle of the demarcated universe and sets the grand scheme of the top wizards in the higher echelons of the council of power in question.

I raise my doubts as to the sanity of the aforementioned operation and I am met with severe opposition often bordering upon mindless violence. Blearing and glaring the modern troll of vengeance will float among the greenwood trees and divulge no information but the people of the green marches will always have a home in the place of my heart.

A noise of rejection can be enough to still the strongest soul and the pain will weaken the hardest beast. But rejection in itself if a test of endurance a test of the pain you can bear before you crack of inwardly mobile loneliness and senseless desperation in the inner reaches of your love stoned mind. The reek of it will bore into you and you will feel the pain of it become a part of you. You will weigh yourself down and every step you take under this condition will make you feel like your feet are made of the heaviest metal invented by man.

This pain will fight all attempts at reason that your mind will throw up and will counter attack with its own particular type of reasoning. It will remind you that everything that is reasonable has its reason embedded in the point of view it is looked through and since your point of view could be said to depend on you mindset at the time of reasoning it out a lot will depend on your various personalities and how they counter each other inside your head and that will depend on how strong your core belief systems are and if indeed, you do possess such a set of values. It will question the darkest areas of you mind which you thought you were safe from. It will open doors that were never meant to be opened and it can let out demons trapped there by your mind’s instinct for self protection. It will bemuse confuse and ridicule you and it will exhaust you with attempts at reasoning and justifying the things that happened to you.

So you are now stuck in a state of utter confusion all triggered by a simple sequence of incidents that happened through the course of one day. You are utterly flabbergasted and cannot decide if the fact of being rejected is worse than the fact of not being able to understand why you are so upset in the first place. This is getting on your nerves and now you are mad at yourself. This is a day later now and you are trying to convince yourself to move on.

But the cavity that the pain dug into you is still bleeding strong. It seems like a giant bulldozer carved into your collective soul and almost reached the central core of the essential being that is you. It is a crater inside you and you are right now trying to climb its walls before it gets totally dark again so that you might have a chance of seeing some sunlight before the dusk closes in.