Tomic Riter

Tag: story

  • The things I remember – a reflection on self

    The things I remember – a reflection on self

    I remember walking uphill. I remember beautiful symphonies. I remember the taste of bad beer and bad wine. I remember taking a nap under the sky while I lay on a huge boulder with a valley of emptiness beneath me. I remember feeling no pain then. I remember crying in closed rooms and then walking out of them without a trace of sadness on my face. I remember gulping down my anger. I remember feeling pissed off with the idiocy and hypocrisy of people everywhere. I remember waking up late every day, demotivated to go to work. I remember pain. I remember being in love. I remember my enemies well. I remember their hatred towards me. I remember being made fun of. I remember being nothing. I remember being a nobody. I remember this night when I get to writing once again.

    © Tomic. All rights reserved.

  • The rough start.

    The rough start.

    Almost one month into the year and I can already feel myself failing at my commitments to myself. The beginning has been very rough and quite taxing. I’m slumping. Maybe I should go to the altar and confess all my sins even though it won’t change a thing. Maybe I should just stay quiet and keep doing my thing. Maybe I should run away from everything like the coward that I am. Maybe there’s a god for each one of us. Maybe it’s time to hit the bottom and begin from there anew.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • How hard is it really.

    How hard is it really.

    How hard is it to make two people talk. How hard could it be. How hard could the hardest of our problems really be. Do they have anything in them? Or maybe we just couldn’t talk about them. Why burden somebody with the weight of our own problems. Imagine a big circle, and anybody could come there and sit inside the circle and just talk about their problems. Sometimes, talking about the problems aloud helps to understand them in a better way. And without understanding our problems, how can solutions be found.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • Guilty again.

    Cannot help but feel guilty of not waking up early. It isn’t enough to say to myself that the body was too tired to wake up. No. I’m not convinced. It’s a lie. I could have woken up earlier, much earlier. Now, my whole day will be spent feeling guilty. It’s a crazy thing to feel guilty. It’s crazier to feel guilty about losing time. Time lost doesn’t come back.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • How it works and how it doesn’t.

    How it works and how it doesn’t.

    You can’t be a writer without writing a lot. You can’t be a painter without painting a lot. You can’t be a photographer without clicking a lot of pictures. It’s never about carrying these stupid tags. You’ve got one life. Just live it. Take experience of your immediate surroundings. It isn’t like you have to do something all the time. Often, you can just observe how things are, and maybe, if you feel like it, record it in some form. You can do it without having any kind of pressure over your head. Do the work. Do the hard work. Do some more and more and more. Just keep doing it. There’s no other way.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • New.

    New.

    The cabin is new. The chair is new. The people are new. The strangers here are new to me too. The food is new. The lights are new. The fights are new. The coffee is new. The coffee cups are new. The drinking water seems new as well. This pen is a new pen. This fan is a new fan. The wind is new. The doors are new. The windows new. This sitting is a new kind of sitting. This waiting is a new kind of waiting.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • About being creative.

    About being creative.

    How are you creative?

    Am I creative? I mean, I’m trying to understand for years what creation means, and what it means to create. Creating doesn’t mean, for sure, to create a copy of something that already exists. In that sense, does creation mean the act of bringing to this universe what doesn’t exist? Maybe it is so. And if so, does being creative mean being able to bring something entirely new to this universe? Maybe it is so. And if it is so, then I don’t know if whatever the hell that results in any kind of creation. But one thing is sure. Man is capble of creating beautiful things.

    But lately, something has happened to man. I don’t know what. It’s like we are stuck in a loop. We are busy creating copies and copies of copies. Wait. What the hell am I doing. This wasn’t supposed to be a critique.

    Talking about myself, I’m trying to write better pieces and I’m trying to click better photographs. Lately, I’ve been busy more in photography and editing than in writing and reading. I’m trying to balance both my passions. Wait what? Ridiculous. Everything that I’ve written sounds ridiculous when I read it aloud. I’ll stop right here.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • Nobody likes.

    Nobody likes.

    Nobody likes standing in a queue. Nobody likes to labour. Nobody likes to wait. Nobody likes to apologise for no reason. Nobody likes to remain stuck in boring goddamned living. Nobody likes drinking beer after whiskey. Nobody likes to work. Nobody likes boredom. Nobody likes to be stressed. Nobody likes work pressure. Nobody likes to give up on their ill-formed opinions. Nobody hates their opinions. Nobody hates their own stupid mindset. Nobody hates a glass of cold water in summer. Nobody hates lemonade or maybe mint juice. Nobody likes to hate and yet they do. Yet we do.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • They are here again.

    Here’s another herd of sheep. They’re looking at each other’s faces. They are all seemingly lost. They don’t seem to figure out where to put their next step. They’re afraid. They think somebody’s out here to kill them. They are the crazy anxious lot. They think anxiety is a part of their personal. They are convinced that’s how it is. They think that every man or woman is anxious. They’ve been shouting at the too of their lungs for no reason. Is it anxiety or old age? It could be old age as well. I had always thought that with age man became quieter and wiser. Looking at these crazy anxious people, I’m convinced it isn’t so.

    It’s hard to find a man of patience.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • While I bit my fingers hooked to my desk.

    Two men appeared out of a yellow coloured building. Two men took the elevator to the basement and then ran off like they were being chased by the most ghostly of ghosts. Two men were walking down the street, side by side, when one of them took a device out of his jacket’s inner pocket, pressed the button on its side. The timer was ticking countdown. Three minutes. He gave the device to the other man and himself sat down on a bench on the pavement. The other man looked at the device, smiled, took a long drag of his cigarette, bent down, extended his arm out, rolled the device away to his right. The device rolled until it stopped beneath a parked car. The car was a dusty red Cadillac. The man stood straight, tossed the cigarette away and walked on. The other man kept sitting on the bench, kept hitting the bench’s iron surface with both of his fisted palms. He looked at his watch on the left wrist. It had the countdown timer running. 01:10. He got up, walked right to the Cadillac. He opened the zipper of his pants. He pissed on the side gates and on the window of the car. He closed the zipper. He walked to the bonnet, jumped on top of it with both his feet. He walked up right to the centre of the car top. He stood there for a while, looking down. He lifted his left wrist, looked at his watch again. 00:25. He laughed loud. He laid down on the car top, his face facing the sky above. His mouth was open. He closed his eyes. Slowly. Exhaled everything out of his body.

    3………2………1……….

    © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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