Tomic Riter

Tag: absurd

  • Two bad days.

    One bad day is fine. But two bad days in a row makes it a disaster. Looking at how things are going this week, it’s going to be an apocalypse by Saturday. But such is the nature of an apocalypse. Either it makes you do all the insane things you always wanted to do but couldn’t, or it makes you want to become the nicest man that you can be. I, personally, have always felt inclined towards insanity. The insanity of the spirit, not of the actions. A man insane in spirit is closer to freedom than the rest of us. Tonight, I will smoke again, like I did yesterday. No more cleanliness for a while. Outside, it just keeps raining. It’s a cold, bone-breaking, nerve chilling rain. I have been wet head to toe thrice in the last twenty four hours. No signs of sickness yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. Maybe I am already too fucking sick to carry any more sickness in me.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Telling a story.

    That’s the thing. You tell a story. You don’t show it. Unfortunately, a great many who write fail in that. It’s important to arrest a reader’s mind in all the ways possible. It’s important to tickle his sense organs because that’s what connects him with the outside world. The sense organs. The senses of touch, smell, sound, sight and taste. I don’t suppose that it’s very hard to write a good piece of prose. Of course, it’s a craft, and like any craft, one needs to invest some time in learning it. These days, I’ve been giving some time to it. I haven’t delved much into fiction writing before. As I learn, I begin to see the fiction world as an aid rather than an obstacle in the path of telling my story. I can imagine, surely, but my imaginations have a great many gaps. It’s all about being creative with what you got in your hands. You cannot keep waiting just to begin. If it doesn’t begin now, I am afraid it might never ever begin.

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  • Whatever saves you.

    I wished to share a piece that I had written earlier tonight. Instead, I am sharing this. I am sharing nothing. I think it’s better for now that I share nothing, because what I’m going to share later might be the best ever written in this world.

    Well, that has always been my problem. I am inherently violent. I was born with hot veins, and it’s only after three decades that I’ve been able to calm my nerves. But what’s the relationship between me being violent and me not sharing what I think is the best that I’ve ever written? No idea. Maybe there is a similarity between the two. Maybe both are worthless to the world and of the most worth to me. My anger and my words have saved me. I haven’t cared much about the rest of the world. I have done my shit and I have done it well and the world around me took care of itself. I do whatever saves me. It’s not that I am afraid of dying. I just think it’s imperative that I’m kept alive for the sake of keeping the good in check. Too much goodness, too much kindness, too much care, too much love and the world will collapse.

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  • Milestone 2.0

    Finished writing 200 pages of rough manuscript for my first work of prose. Coming out some time later this year or early next year. For now, learning the craft a little bit more. When it’s about writing, there’s nothing more important than to write and write and write and write. Come what may, you need to sit at your desk and do the writing every day. After years, I have come to that point where I can say that I have developed that kind of writing stamina. Whatever that day, however long and tiring it gets at work, I make sure I write something before I am in bed. It can be anything. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I get it fucking done.

    Feels good to see 200 pages of solid writing that I started with on 28th September last year. Nothing special about that day though. What makes the day memorable is this moment right now in which I remember it. That day was nothing on its own then but today, when I think about that day, it has gained some significance because a journey got started then and it continued well and I didn’t quit midway like always. 200 pages, 58000+ words, 800 paragraphs later, the writing still continues. Page count, word count all that doesn’t matter right now. I can do 200 more pages in maybe half the time. Maybe. For now, a moment of rest.

    Let me know in comments what you’re currently working on. Have a good time.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Building my empire.

    An empire isn’t built in a day. We build it brick by brick. It takes time. It can even take decades and that’s alright as long as we stay focused. I have always realised that persistence is the only key to meeting one’s goals. We need to persist. We need to constantly be at it, work for it. We cannot do it one day and then forget about it for a week or a month. I have not been a very persistent man until now. Now is when things have begun to change for me. I am much more clear headed than before. I am building my empire brick by brick each day and in all quietness. It’s the easiest and the hardest thing to persist. Most of them get bored even before they are halfway. That’s not persistence. Persistence is to keep putting bricks until the very last day. It’s easy only if one is focused. Without focus, without a clear picture of what one wants, one cannot persist. I do not have a clear picture yet, but I do have a clearer one. It will keep me going.

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  • Phonecall.

    ‘Where did you disappear last night?’ she called at 11 this morning and asked.

    ‘I just went out. It’s nothing’ I said.

    ‘Are you okay? I feel worried about you’ she asked.

    ‘Yeah I’m good. I’m good. Good. Hey listen, I’ll call you back in an hour. Bye,’ I said.

    ‘Sure. Bye,’ she said and cut the call.

    I threw the phone hard at the opposite wall. It didn’t broke into pieces. Only the screen flickered fast and then all went blank. I just realised what I had done. I broke my phone.

    ‘I broke my phone’ I thought again and again. I wasn’t able to think about anything else for few minutes. I kept sitting in that corner. I kept staring at my phone. I didn’t know what to do. I felt paralysed. ‘Should I check if it’s working? Should I leave it? Should I get rid of it altogether? Should I get it repaired? It’s surely broken. What if it’s not? Should I just check it once? Should I? What should I do?’ More questions arose in my head. I got up and walked to my phone. Just as I picked it up with my right hand, it exploded.

    ‘Shit shit shit shit shit! Fuck! Shit shit shit shit!’ I screamed and fell back on the floor. The smell of smoke filled my nose. I felt nauseated. I looked at my right hand. A third of my index finger was gone. Half of my middle finger was gone. The rest of my hand was in blood. ‘Shit shit shit shit shit’ I was screaming very loud. I crawled back to the corner farthest from the point of explosion. It hurt really bad. It was the first time I had lost a part of my body. I was screaming and I was in tears and I wasn’t able to think. It was as if I had just lost my one hand. I really had. With two less fingers, what was a hand anyways. I kept sitting there for a couple of minutes. As I was about to get up, the phone rang again.

    ‘What the hell,’ I thought. I pissed right there. My eyes searched for the source of ringing and found it to be just the chip of the phone. The ringing came from there.

    With fear, I crawled to where the chip was. What more have I got to lose, I thought. I reached the chip. It was still ringing. No cover. Only a couple of buttons on the top were strangely intact. I pressed one of the buttons.

    ‘Hey are you alright? You didn’t call me back. I feel so worried really,’ said the voice. It was her again.

    ‘Bitch just shut up! Shuutttt Uppppp!!!’ I screamed into the ears of the chip and threw a hard punch at it with my left hand. The chip exploded in my face.

    The ringing stopped.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Rejections.

    I am not meant to be caged. I learnt that shit about myself in childhood itself. I have always hated rules when it comes to expressing oneself creatively. That is why I hate the rejections that come in my way because I apparently didn’t follow some stupid writing structure when creating a short story. The reason I didn’t follow the structure is very simple and it is that I do not fucking care about the stupid structure. When I write, I try to make sure that whatever I accomplish writing is interesting enough to read. That is to say that it is clear to read and it isn’t boring. That’s it. I do not care about some structure that some online academic courses taught by unknown unheard of college professors cum novelists want you to follow while writing. To the academicians, I say ‘Suck my dick!’

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • The path never taken before.

    So far, whatever job I’ve had and whatever job I’m having right now, I have been fairly good at it. That is not to boast about myself. I am just stating what is. And that’s precisely the problem. I am stuck doing something that I can do well and that which I do not want to do at all, even for a minute. It’s time I stand up for myself and invest at least 50% of the time I spend at my job in doing what I really love doing. And what I love doing is writing. I can write all day and night. I have done it. I have never run out of lines to write, and I’ve been doing serious writing since last five years. I’ve never had what people call ‘creative block.’ I just never had it. I could sit in a closed, locked room and write pages. I have done it so many times and I do it often.

    But why am I writing all this. Why am I sharing all this. As always, I’m just letting a few things out. I am walking a new path, one that puts me in a vulnerable situation. Still, I’ve got one foot on the old path and the other on this new path. I cannot walk like that for long, I know. For now, I will do whatever I can to not stray totally from this new path. Just trying to do my bit everyday. It is hard because it is to be done all alone. If by day’s end, I have written at least a couple of really good paragraphs if not a couple of pages, I feel alright.

    About today, it was a quiet day. It’s never all quiet though. Not much rain. Summer is back or so it seems.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Modern problems.

    Dabbling between Instagram, Twitter, and here. It’s hard to keep up with all the spaces. Life was so good before social media, or one can say life was so good when I wasn’t on social media. I used to put more time into myself and not just pointlessly scrolling up and down like a robot. Back then, I used to read more. Nowadays, I am writing more but not as much as I used to read. Is there a relation between the two? Not an obvious one. The gist of the matter is that a lot of time goes into getting distracted by trivial shit on the social media. I am still saved because I am here for the sole purpose of connecting with other writers and readers and artists and sharing with them what I wish to share, and getting to learn whatever I can from them. But most of the time, the sharing and the exchange doesn’t happen at all. There’s hardly any word of exchange either through comments or emails or in whatever way suitable and possible. There’s hardly any learning, well, often there isn’t for me. I really wish the social media didn’t have to grow into this. Just saying. Social media isn’t a bad place. Social media is nothing without us, the people. As always, it all comes down to us what we make of it.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Not again!

    A quick one from my mobile. It’s a sunny morning. The crows are crowing again. People coming and leaving. A man of patience is hard to find. A man who embraces life, who knows what life is and is not, will naturally become patient with time. Sometimes one doesn’t realise when solitude turns to isolation. I have a life outside of work. But do I? I am having this feeling that I am headed the wrong way. It’s a feeling that has lasted for quite some time now. It’s a feeling. Just a feeling. A feeling nonetheless. A bitch of a feeling. This day feels nothing like a night. Why would it. A day is a day and a night is a night. Nights bring no greater relief and yet I wait for the night as I walk bloody fisted through my damned days knowing I can’t do a damn thing about it.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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