Tomic Riter

Tag: absurd

  • Sometimes the sun sets at night.

    Writing as much as I can. In journal. In here. In a few other places too. I haven’t done poetry in quite some time. I do not feel the need to write poems anymore. It’s as simple as that. I love prose. I love it very much. Prose lets me explore so much. It’s a wonderful feeling to write paragraphs and paragraphs of nonsense. Luckily, my speciality is in writing nonsense. And my lines are ruthless. My pages banished from society. My hands cut and bruised. My knees dislocated. Red spit of blood in my mouth. In my lines, there can be no win for me. In fact, even outside my lines, there’s not much of a win for me. I am a fighter, of course. I can fight anything. But I am not a winner. There’s no win for me here or anywhere.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • On writing journal.

    Started writing journal some time in last September. Almost a year has passed since then. There is so much in the journal now. So much. Most of it won’t make sense to anyone who reads. So much is in there, and none of it would make any sense to anyone. Think about it. So many pages. So many words. So many paragraphs all written by one man in innumerable moods, innumerable positions, innumerable seasons. Looking at it gives me a strange sense of happiness. Surely I cannot go through reading it all again myself unless exclusively for the purpose of editing it someday. I never read my own stuff unless it is to edit. My lines are for the world to soak in. I write and then I move on and write some more.

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  • With a tongue on fire.

    People usually have morning rituals or evening rituals or some sort of rituals in their lives. I do not have morning rituals or evening rituals. I do not even have mornings or evenings. I go to work, I work, I come back from work. That’s how I measure my time.

    It’s a holiday. Again, I cannot feel the excitement of it. What am I? A fucking stone?

    Soon, my body should begin to show symptoms of withdrawal. That’s natural to happen to an addict.

    Just another rainy day in my life. Splashes of rain on my window. Curtains moving in the air. Sparrows resting on window rails. Times have changed, and with that, I have changed too. And what is change but to come to realise a lot more than you already realise. I changed to grow my own experiences of life. I cannot always be the same man, nor would I ever want to be the same man, nor would I ever want to change. That is to say that I want neither. I am just flowing with this life.

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  • Rain and this and that.

    Back home early. The day turned out to be better than I had expected. Owing to certain external factors, I didn’t have to work at all today. Instead, had a day long discussion with this lady on varied subjects – mysticism being a prime one. Also, what could possibly be the rationale behind a sane man eating another man, preferably a dead man. I can’t tell about the bits of discussion here. That’s not the point I want to convey here. I want to convey, as usual, nothing. I am just typing shit in one breath. Tomorrow, I am out on the road again after a gap of almost two months. To hell with all this rain. To hell with everything. I can’t stay back. I want to be back on highways and country roads. I want to be out there. I feel like a bitch without limbs. I feel like a bitch. A BITCH! I am close to freedom. Now is not the time to lose my shit. It is true that we need a space in our lives where we can openly discuss just about anything. I feel that most of us lack that space in our lives. Without that space, we would only suffocate ourselves on a daily basis. It would be like being dead without actually dying.

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  • One from my goddamned desk.

    This one is a quick post from my mobile. That is something I never do. So if you’re reading on laptop or PC, apologies if it doesn’t look good. Also, about that, I do not give a shit. Ha ha ha.

    It’s been raining heavily since this morning. No electricity. No mobile connectivity. It all looks so bad when I look out the window. So bad and so wet and so dirty. That’s why I hate rain. It brings in more dirt than it washes away. At least that has been the case with me. Always. It would have looked better had I been on a holiday. But I am not.

    – Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • An evening like no other.

    An evening like no other. A completely worthless evening. At least my sickness hasn’t worsened. No sudden rise in body temperature. The weakness is still there. Maybe reading a little Dostoyevsky will make me feel better. Notes from the Underground. Started reading it a year and a half ago. I am a terrible reader. A bad fucking reader. I love to buy books and I hate to actually read them. And I buy only gems. I haven’t bought a single bad book in a life, except for a couple of times from Instagram fucking trash poets. Fucking trash poets! Not all but most of them. Just fucking trash. Can’t write a fucking simple sentence, and they write boring shit. It’s all fucking boring nonsense there these days. I have found WordPress to be a much better platform for sharing writing and finding other meaningful writers. I haven’t found many, here or there, but this place beats Instagram by any standard. Now, off to drinking hot bitter coffee. I can’t even make coffee right these days. FUCK!

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  • This is something else.

    This is not how the day was supposed to go. It’s raining like hell. Can’t go anywhere. Can’t even step outside. In my room, locked, listening to music. The sickness is leaving my body. Last night was terrible. My body was on fire.It was a a strange, terrifying feeling. I was shivering. I am shivering now as I write. I just want some rest. A good rest. Haven’t been on a road trip in two months. Terrible. I hate rain. Road trips on a motorcycle are my only cure. I want the cure soon.

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  • Tomorrow again.

    I’ve always wanted to grow this blog of mine. It is now two years and three months old and I do not know the future of it as much as I do not know the future of myself. Had a call from a colleague an hour ago. It has left me drained. Nothing more tiring than a day job. I still haven’t found a way out of it. Another call. Another message. Another distraction. Lying in my bed. Thinking about a million things. It’s worth tonight to keep the windows open. The winds are just so good and so calming. Listening to Mighty Sam McClain. Mighty as ever. A voice so brutal, listening to it you would vomit all the sadness out of your eyes. I am trying to vomit now. It’s hard but I am trying. I am trying. I am trying. It’s well past ten at night and I am trying. McClain, pour me a drink like you’ve poured for yourself. McClain, savour the winds tonight like I am savouring them. McClain, make it rain. McClain, don’t be a cunt yet. Scream into the mike and make the world piss through the ears. I’ve only got today. Tomorrow, I am a free man searching for a new chain.

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  • Travelling light.

    The truth is that you don’t ever quit being what you truly are. It’s something bounded to your core. It doesn’t matter whether you’re good or bad. I think a man gives its best when he is closest to what he truly is. I’ve contemplated many times on the true nature of man. I do not do that anymore. Man is surprisingly simple to understand and at the same time, quite hard to define. Take any other animal. They find joy easily. They find it much easily than any man. Man gets easily distracted with his surrounding elements. I am like any other man. I hardly accomplish anything. My only achievement in the last one month is getting my clothes washed! I took two months even for that. Anyways, soon I am out of this city. Maybe tomorrow. I haven’t packed my stuff yet. Like always, I do not like to carry much. Just a backpack and me and my motorcycle.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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  • Last night wasn’t last night after all.

    Jesus Christ! What was I thinking all this while. I don’t know. I’ve been a stupid asshole since a long time. Time to pull myself out of the pit. Time to be a hell maker. Time to shit out properly all that I can’t keep inside of me anymore. Enough of drinking and fooling around. Time to add a little more red to my blood. Enough of being a loser. Meanwhile, Dan is back. I see him coming back, still singing sad songs in his coarse voice, like he’s been drinking since the Big fucking Bang. He probably popped out of singularity with a can of beer. Goddamnit Dan. Goddamnit. With a voice like that, you could’ve won the whole universe. But you chose to go down silently like me and the rest of our kind. What is this stupidity with good people who are eternally sad. Fools. But then, sadness is the ink that stays the longest on the canvas of true art. Goddamnit Dan. Goddamnit. What are you making write. Shit. I’ve got twenty minutes to catch a fish, kill it, fry it and eat it. Gotta go.

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