Like a pig I slept. It’s 12:46 noon now and I think I didn’t get enough sleep. I fell asleep some time after 2:30 in the morning. I usually fall asleep around midnight. Yesterday night, something kept me busy.
12:48 noon. Im sitting on the toilet seat, wondering where to go next from here. I’d rather sleep a bit more but I shouldn’t. Hunger pangs in my stomach. I should take a shower, get dressed and go out.
12:53 noon. Nothing else makes me happier than taking a proper sh*t in the morning without much struggle. Sometimes when you take a huge dump, you start feeling somewhat dizzy in your head. Strange!
12:55 noon. Listening to Memora by Gesafflstein. He is an amazing artist. I admire his music and come back to it from time to time.
12:58. Time to exercise a bit, not much. These muscles need some movement. Lower back is hurting as usual. Feels incurable. I hope it isn’t.
I am back here after almost two years. I was active on Instagram. I think Instagram sucks for writers. There isn’t much engagement between readers and writers. I do appreciate the photography community of Instagram.
I haven’t written much in the past two years during which time I was away from this space. Had I not left this space completely and forgotten about it, I know I’d have written much much more.
Anyways, I’m glad to be back here. I’ve always loved this space. On here, I feel free in writing and sharing whatever I want to. I do not care even if nobody reads. Luckily, I’ve always found a reader.
I would like to thank all my fellow readers and bloggers who are still connected to my blog. You motivate me in keeping going.
I’d try to be regular on here from now onwards. I’m also thinking of making some changes to this website with regard to its looks and design. I’ll see what I can do about it. Please feel free to drop in any suggestions/ideas.
How hard can it be to close eyes and simply sit. Speaking of eyes, my eyes are heavy with sleep. And yet, tonight, I want to write something.
Now, 11:00 at night. Today, a friend’s birthday. Yesterday, he met with an accident while he was riding his motorcycle. At around 11:30 yesterday night, four of us drove to the spot of accident and somehow brought his damaged motorcycle home, parked it.
Yesterday night, the fog was thick. Those ghostly roads were without any heart. Luckily, we came back without trouble. Upon returning, I found that my clothes were damp with mist. I looked towards the flyover that ran across the highway. The bright streetlights dimmed by thick fog. Fog was flowing on the highway like white river. The headlights of passing vehicles looked like floating candles or lamps.
Later that night, I woke up around 2:45 and ran to the toilet and screamed with my mouth in the commode.
Went to sleep at 5 in the morning. The entire night was spent in this small cafe with a couple of knows faces, discussing about small mindedness, mental health, curiosity, depression among other things.
Around 4:45 in the morning, the fog started settling over the town. I wished to drive back home, bring my camera and come back and click a few pictures. When I got home at 5:00 in the morning and finally laid down, I couldn’t help but close my eyes. I had put an alarm to wake up at 6:30 in the morning to take my camera and go outside. I woke up at 3:00 in noon and finally got up from bed at 5:00 in the evening. All my day gone sleeping.
Every man struggles. Every man struggles. Every man struggles. It’s why I never say anything about someone else. It’s why I never form opinions about someone else. in fact, It just doesn’t make sense to me to form opinions anymore.
I live my life. I like to remain busy with my own learnings and unlearnings of life. Now that I understand things in a better way, I’ve grown quieter. I understand perspectives that may not be my own. Now, I can feel just how vast the universe is and I’m just this small piece of life in it, significant nonetheless. And even if I’m not significant, I’m happy to be here. For now, that is enough for me.
Tonight, fog settles over the town much earlier. Now, it’s 11:00 at night. Maybe I’ll wait a couple of hours more before heading out with my camera.
This is probably not a good time. Feels like the year has come to an end, at least for me it has. Tomorrow begins a new year for me. Not much on my mind today. There’s this renewed energy in me to move in a new direction. Other than that, nothing. It’s better I stop doing everything and lay down. It’s better than falling asleep in this chair.
I’d rather lay down on the floor in shavasana and wait for sleep. Now, sitting in my chair and typing and listening to this raga called Raga Malkauns. My eyes half closed, as if someone drugged me.
The day has changed. Today is Wednesday. What happened last night after my eyes closed. I do not remember anything other than that I got up from my chair and laid down on the floor, with my back straight and my arms straight. I do not remember my eyes closing. I was tired. Too tired. So tired that no writing got done yesterday and no songs were heard late night.
Today went in vain. A plant has died. I’m covered in dirt. The never-stopping rain has messed up with my mind. Listening to this relaxing raga. It’s nine minutes past midnight. The lamp light hurts my eyes. I turn it off. Minutes pass. Coldness has filled the space. Eyes become heavier. Heavier. Heavier still.
A major part of today was spent thinking about how to be my own boss. A major part of yesterday was spent thinking about how to be my own boss. But what does it mean to be one’s own boss.
As I sit and think more about what it actually means, my mind wanders in more than one direction. For some, being one’s own boss means not doing a salaried job. For some, being one’s own boss means being able to do a certain job in one’s own way or with minimal outside intervention.
For me, being my own boss means being able to work day and night and build my own empire in my own way and in the process, generating enough wealth for a decent living without being dependent on a salaried job in any way.
Yeah. There. I said it in the best lines that I can. In a way, I’ve always been my own boss because I’ve always approached a task or a problem in my own way. I hardly ever run to anyone else for help, not because I would feel small, but because, most of the time, I do not feel the need to go to anyone for help. I figure out my problems in my own ways.
So lately, I’m back to burning the midnight oil. Despite hardships, some things must be done. Isn’t it so? I suppose it’s my time of doing things. It’s time to push into a new direction for a renewed growth.
I’m glad that apart from this dim lamp on my humble table in my midnight room, I’ve got these crunchy sunflower seeds to chew on as I think and act and dissect my bygone days and minutes and seasons. Munching on these sunflower seeds along with listening to some slow classical music sends me in this drowsy state in which the possibility of creating something increases tenfolds. Here’s the link to the seeds I recently bought if you wanna check out!
Now, it’s 00:18 hours. The whole town seems to be asleep except the few mad ones. And look at me. I have slept for only three hours in the last 36 hours. My eyes are half shut. But I keep munching on these seeds and I keep listening to Chopin. Not every night is like this night. Why isn’t every night like this night. To be frank, I am glad that it isn’t.
– Tomic
Leaving here this marvellous piece of music by Chopin –
Listening to this raga late night. The atmosphere of the room is so relaxing. I’m dozing off while I’m sitting in my chair. There’s something magical about this music. I do not know what it is. I just want to sit back and feel the music and let go of everything. Few minutes back, I fell asleep in my chair. The music was like lullaby in my ears. Now, yawning. Again. Again. And again. One more time. This music is the purest narcotic there is. I’m transported to some place else. Rather, this place is transformed into some other, more magical and more magnificent place. I wish I broke down into tears now. It would feel amazing to break down into tears now. I wish to cry for hours. I think it along with this music can purify me.
No tears last night. Another day now. It’s evening now. Sitting naked in my chair. Listening to this beautiful raga by Sultan Khan and Zakir Hussain. Rag Bhupali. It’s an evening raga. There’s music that’s made from the threads of human consciousness. This is one such piece of music. When you listen to it, it deposits deep in your spiritual core. It touches you in places you never thought you had within you. Imagine the world has ended and you are floating in this infinite emptiness and suddenly you get filled with this pleasant feeling. If there’s a path to feel the divine energy through music, I think it’s through the path of classical music. No modern music seems to reach in those places within us.
I’m wearing my spectacles. There are raindrops on my spectacles. I’m trying to write something through the little spots that these raindrops have made on the glasses of my spectacles. It’s today’s challenge for me. I know it doesn’t meaning anything. Just saying.
It continues to rain through this evening and I think it will rain all night. I had planned to go on a long walk tonight. Now, I’ve forgotten about it. It isn’t happening tonight. It won’t be long before I’m asleep.
For the past few days, I’m recording my sleep pattern. I wake up every hour. Interesting! I wake up every hour, go to pee and get back under my blanket. The process repeats every night. Every night ends in morning. Interesting! I wake up late and rush to work.
Workplace can be an interesting place. It depends on the people working there and their bonding with each other. Ah what crap!
The time is 10:43 night. Listening to this song from 40s. It’s about a prostitute whose heart is broken, and she sings to his lover so that he doesn’t leave. But he has left. All that remains is the melodious singing of the prostitute who sits on the floor in the middle and sings all night to her patrons.
Where am I. What am I. This wind. This night. This moonlight. It’s all taken from some place else. I’m an imitation, a repetition. I scratch my beard in utter disgust and listen to this new song from 60s. Sung by a male, no less heart broken that that prostitute. What a song! What a night! What an incredible night!
I’m trying to make a sense of all this madness that has surrounded me recently. It is a fact that I didn’t ask for any of it. Also, the amount that I’m getting paid to face all this sheer madness isn’t fair. I deserve more. Forget about the money. I deserve quiet more than anything else. At the same time, I think that I deserve the worst, or maybe I deserve nothing. I’m at a spot where I want to punish myself and I want the biggest rewards to myself. Also, I do not loathe punishments and I do not work for rewards. All of this looks like a phase of transition to me. It’s painful to the mind. Endlessly painful. It’s no surprise that I make it out alive every morning. I work hard for it. I am my biggest support. I try to stay clear-headed in any situation. It is something that comes at its own cost.
But all this madness makes me wonder now, ‘Why all this! And why with me!’ No, I do not complain. I’m just tired, too exhausted to even keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted and I’m hungry. Yeah, I think it’s that. Give me food and water and let me go to sleep.
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