A piece about "Nothing"

I want to write about nothing. Is say this to the one who reads a piece of writing, that means something. Turn your heads away and dissolve yourself in the process of looking for patterns, this is about "nothing". But to the ones who are tired of this process of abstracting everything we do into something meaningful. To those jaded souls, i speak to you.

Try to recollect this single moment on every firday afternoon, in the place you work. The moment where you are looking forward to a sense of relief, this feeling of a change in the monotonicity, a week of work breeds in you. Notice how beautiful that moment is ? No matter how mundane a weekend you have ahead, this moment of anticipation has a beauty of its own. Like the anxious, face of a 12 year old kid, before opening up a wrapped up Christmas present. Hidden inside the layers of wrapping paper was your moment of joy, the hope of a perfect gift, that would make you ecstatic. I am referring to the joy in that short instance of time, before you open the present. It's the same joy the moment i talk about on a Friday afternoon brings to me. Though deep inside your heart, you always know that this gift or this weekend is going to be no different, a glimpse of hope still lingers on.

Subconsciously, we are all tuned to wait for these moments that would change everything from the way it is, to the way it is supposed to be. We don't realize that this anticipation, is the only fuel that keeps us moving, smoothly through the course of time. There are days in our lives we run out this fuel, when the chalice of hope is dried to the bottom, by the gusts of montonous hours.

Hours, that are all the same no matter how far you travel, how many new people you meet. The hours, never different, never filled with the moments you hoped for. In this state you wait and have a constant urge to abstract, the mundane around you in to the "moments" you were awaiting for. Each of us have a varied threshold for how long we could sustain such a state. Some give-in too early, and hit the bars for drinks, on a Friday evening, sitting in the Happy-Hour and wondering what's so "Happy" about this "hour". The free drinks and food, soon cease to fit into the awaiting moment, and you move onto make a conversation with the opposite sex, hoping to dig your moment out. Some even go to the lengths of justifying themselves, may be this was the moment i was hoping to change my course. And they live through the illusion of happiness, till they wake up in bed the next morning, with another moment hunter lying next to them fast asleep. Then the justifications you made last night become glaringly-obvious falsities. And you can feel the mundane wheel turning again, throwing you back in to the civilized forest, in the hunt for a change.

A few of us even try to stay in the illusion a little longer and try to re-capture the moments of the inebriated Friday night, to be the moments of happiness that you always looked forward to. It is not difficult to push your mind back to the state of abstraction, it will spin a story for you, a seemingly beautiful one, about last night. This too will break-away, the hours are cruel, they leave no soul illusioned for too long. Your weekend moves on, your BBQs, your hiking trips, your picnics, your pot-lucks, start alluring you, like those cheesy TV-commercials,calling you to be a part of it. And experience the joy, that those faces on television, seem to be sharing.And just as the gaps between the commercials, make you aware of the flipper in your hand, the period between the so called fun-events, give you an option of choosing the way you want to spend your hours. Your hand is too lazy to flip the channel, and so is your mind, too lazy to think of your own idea of "fun". Think of the times when you were really hungry, and some one has setup the table with all the stuff you would rather not eat, but you know that you are too lazy to cook, you would go ahead and fill yourself wouldn't you ? So are these fun-events that fill your weekend, a table not set for you, but nevertheless the one you eat at every time.

Pardon me my friends, who get offended when i say "you", i include myself in it. But,today i chose solitude, i flipped to a station "I" thought was fun. And, if you still feel, this made no sense, read the title of this post, or the name of my blog again.

..Time machine or just an Elevator ?...

If the world that i perceive through my senses is a grand symphony of molecular interactions;

If a sudden bang set out this chain reaction, this eternal dance of energy particles that are governing every action, every minute change that is happening right "now".

How does some one explain an erratic behaviour ?

To be precise how does a un-premeditated action affect this whole universe, that i am supposedly a crucial part of ?

The Question brings up the issue of premeditation, can anything be premeditated at all ?

For instance, the words that i am writing right now the flow of ink from this pen; The movement of the ball this is taking place as i write is as complex and as inexplicable and unpredictable as the universe itself. One might argue the physics behind it, but since the origin

of every moment of my hand is a result of the electric impulses sent by my brain through the central nervous system. I have little control on what i exactly want to do.

To make this phenomenon that i call an "error" more apparent, let me illustrate the series of events that have led me to actually write this post. I was taking the elevator on the 7th floor of my 12 storied apartment, to do some laundry on what seemed to be a regular lazy Sunday afternoon.

I got on the elevator with a laundry bag in one hand and detergent in the other, voila! nothing great about i hear you say. Yes, you are right.

The "error" happened when i was pressing the floor button, i had to get to the 1st floor, and i clearly missed and pressed "3". Yes, the lazy Sunday afternoons I'd say. Though i corrected the mistake by pressing '1' again. I knew that the elevator would stop at '3' and i will be hitting the close button.

So where am i getting at ? what is the significance of this event ? If the "butterfly effect" as it is referred to is happening with every action we take. What would be the magnanimous outcome of this so called "error" ? Was i pushed in to a parallel universe ? Did i travel light years just coming down that elevator ? Did this small error change the entire course of my life ?

I can never know the answers to these Questions, as i lack the reference, on what my life "would have been" if i hadn't pushed the wrong button.

If one thing is for sure, i.e, i wouldn't have even thought of scribbling down this one a piece of paper. Not Me! i would have just dragged my lazy ass upstairs in the same elevator and pondered over the first thought that would have occurred to me, till i would realize i was going now where with it or have one of those physical urges to please myself in the easiest possible way.

So the Questions still remain,

Did i just travel light years into a parallel universe, was my elevator a time machine, is time travel happening all around us or was i just doing laundry tonight ?

....Sad but True.....

There are no facts, only interpretations and points of view.
You’re no better; you’re no good, than the situation itself.
Take your calipers, take your weighing scales,
bury them six feet under, along with your judgment.
There is nothing that wasn’t done before,
there is nothing that you can do about it,
there is no escape from this saturation.

Momentary Lapse of Reason

Darkness is all around, nothing touches me nor can I touch any.
I felt my way through the madness, daemons of desire whispering in my ears.
I hear the mission bells tolling, calling me to the light far away.
I take another step in hope, towards the sounds of soothing numbness.
Don’t leave me now, my throbbing heart; I still need you to make it through.

Here I am, in the light again, waking up to another dream,
Lost hopes are lingering on my shadow, trying hard to grip my conscience.
The wheel turns around and round, running with the hands of time.
Stops with a rattle of money, the slot machine of my future, with a $ $ ..
What’s it going to be this time, despair or more fuel to keep my machine turning?

Bowl of Desire

The bowl of desire enigmatically replenishes despite ones
conscious efforts to empty it. We either torment our senses
to master it or moan inadvertently jaded and enslaved.


How rational is it to think one is rational ?! When all we are
is just another ant-colony to an eagle flying high.
Don't judge a person by his words,
doggerel is all it can be to the
one who watches from a distance.

We wait earnestly for the curtains to go up,
and gasp in pleasure when the girl in the box disappears.
It intrigues you to the point where you would want to
ask the question, how does he do it ?

But before you ask that question, ask this to yourself.
Do you really want to know the science behind the magic trick ?

Would you rather be mesmerized by the ignorance of it all and keep
guessing in vain ?

How distant have we become due to the so called "reasoning" ?

How much would you give to loose it ?

How badly do you want to zoom out of your mundane existanse ?

Love you seek without pain is no different from a bland meal.
Nihilistic, is what you prefer to call the chain of thoughts that scare
to break your shell. You prefer to lie in the womb dreaming endlessly, don't
you ? Day after Day, it's a new dream you wake up to.

..Sip this..

..And the Oscar Goes to..

I want to take this moment to thank my drug store for supplying me
all the pills on time, My doctor for having such a short signature,
My technicians backstage who have helped me forge his signature
over and over again, the smiling bob at the entrance of wal-mart
on the way to cvs pharmacy counter, for his smile to let me know,
though my forearm was a fucking mine field with all the punctures
of disposable needles, that everything is just fine. My employer for
taking my pre-employment drug-screening test only once before I
joined and for forgetting how easy it is to fake it.
The passyourdrugtest.com support team for providing me with the
fake urine samples. The stout little lady, with a southern accent, at
my drug screening center for leaving me alone in the restroom, with
out checking my pockets before I gave her the fake urine sample.
My college news paper editor for publishing the article that got me
interested in the drug abuse phenomenon in the first place.
And the countless pharmaceutical companies manufacturing the
heavy dosage pills. I know that I am running out of time and the
you are going to start the background music I mean the requiem ,
will start soon asking me kindly fuck off from this fucking stage of life.
Before the lights go out, I assure you that for the rest of the days in
my grave I will live up to the expectations of all you have made this
“play” a grand tragedy.

what did you see ?

Tell me, the one who watches me through the mirror,

I’ve met you before, not long ago,

When you had a glitter in your eyes

I saw you eager and restless,

In constant search for answers,

Questions were all you had.

What is that you were looking for?

“Nothing” I saw in the things around me,

“Nothing” Is what I still see.

You’ve made me look sometimes,

Look for the meaning in the vanity around me.

Oh you ugly one..!

Now I see you, different from what you were.

Numb is your grimace.

Worn out are your eyes,

from the vigor of youth you once had.

Awake you look now,

Where have all the dreams gone?

You’ve grown calmer,

Is silence the answer,

Questions were all you had.

Torn apart is your soft and supple skin,

Skin, that used to shield your youthful bliss from malice.

You still look back at me through those countless folds on your face.

Tell me, what have you seen?

……

….

..

.

I’ve seen you, you looking at me in the mirror.

L.I.V.I.N

You are a 20 something, laid back, relaxed, numbed by the day time reality television, having coffee thrice a day, a pack of cigarettes for every 3 days, a visit to the corner video store to rent the action thriller classic the dialogues of which you know by heart by now. Next Friday is how far your planning goes. The news that interests you most than the thousands dying in a war not too far from your home, is when the lead singer of your favorite band will start running out of bucks to pay for his personal get fuel, and starts pulling up a washed ups album cover. And then there is the news about when your favorite TV show’s next season is going to start, Oh I bet you can’t wait to see the first promos. And then there is news about the dispute over the dead body of a former stripper/model/reality TV star/play-boy bunny which you can’t escape, apparently every one seems to be talking about it. Your mood swings are triggered by the results of a soccer match between an English soccer club for which you would live and die for. All the so called knowledge that you’ve been piling on all your life seems worthless because you can’t install an ipod-holder to go along with your car stereo. It feels good doesn’t it? When your bills are paid directly from your bank account, and when the constant measly amount that is just enough to keep you living this life gets deposited into your account at the end of every month, no matter how many traffic tickets / DUIs you get you can stay assured that it will cover for ‘em. It’s not going to be long before you are 30 something, laid back, relaxed, and still numbing yourself to day time television, mundane daily chores, and coffee thrice a day, a pack of cigarettes for every 3 days voila! Your life is indeed B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L.

Hey, wait a second do I even know you? I donno, I’d rather get back to my couch and tune in to that cartoon show with a fat kid who makes me laugh and feel alive than any conversation I had in years.

The roster update--2007

The urge to plunge in to the works of some of the great writers has grown to be insatiable in me over the years. These are the people who embraced the world with an open heart leaving behind the traces of their imagination, offering a key in every book to a world rich of new ideas, revelations, philosophies, psychological insights, and things that would take more than a lifetime for an individual to grasp by himself. My appreciation for such noble deeds would run in volumes that would be of no interest to most. So, i would at least hope the roster i put would make a few qurious or at least serve an idle brain to pick up a worth wile book instead of numbing ourselves through watching repeats of soaps n sitcoms ( which i myself am quite addicted to )..
In chronological Order

1. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
2. The Will to power by Frederich Nietzsche
3. My Uncle's dream ( from selected works ) by Fyodor Dostoevsky
4. The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
5. The art of film making by Alexander Mckendrick
6. A Happy Death by Albert Camus
7. Veronika decides to Die by Paulo Coelho
8. The Fall by Albert Camus
9. Secrets of the hearts by Khalil Gibran
10. By the river Piedra I sat down and Wept by Paulo Coelho
11. The First Man by Albert Camus
12. The Stranger by Albert Camus
13. Creative Dreaming by Patricia Garfield
...( to be updated as it grows )