Tomic Riter

Tag: thoughts

  • Waiting for the night.

    Waiting for the night.

    Every morning, I wake up and start waiting for the night. All of day time is just time wasted. It hurts me but I cannot do anything much about it. That hurts too. It isn’t until late hours of night when I finally get to sit in my space. My very own space. A small room with a table and two chairs and a table lamp and a couch on which I fall at the very end until sleep comes. I put on some music, write a bit, read a bit, just lay down often. A pile of books is waiting to be read. I haven’t read much in the past couple of years. Yes, that’s right. It’s changing now. I’m reading again.

    Yesterday, I read this beautiful line. ‘Illness shortens the distance between a man and a woman.’ The book is Snow Country by Yaaunari Kawabata, a Japanese writer. The line reminded me of my mother and father and an incident from a decade ago. I will write about the incident some other time.

    Night is here. I’m sitting in my chair, typing. My back aches and so do my arms. I’ve forgotten to put on some music. Strange. There are still a couple of hours to kill before I throw myself on the couch.

    – Tomic. All rightd 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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  • No doubt about it.

    No doubt about it.

    No doubt the town is full of sluggish people. Nothing lets me down at work as much as sluggish people do. You can see them wasting time their time, and consequently, yours. You want to kill them but cannot. It’s frustrating at times. They’re getting paid for nothing. No doubt the world has too many sluggish people now, and no one can do a thing about it. Another one walks in. What the hell. Looks like a woman. Fucking hell. I wish I could scream right now. FUCKING HELL! Instead, I’m yawning, slipping down in my recliner, my head in my left palm. I hate a good meal. It makes me dizzy with sleep. I wish I fell asleep right now. I can’t. The work doesn’t seem to end. Too much work. Too much wastage of time and energy. It seems like something or the other has to be done about it. So I tell the woman to shut up and leave. It doesn’t work.

    – Tomic. All rights reserved.

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  • Why indeed.

    Why talk in beautiful verses when I am gifted with such a foul mouth?

Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • A verse that better not rhyme.

    it's a morning
the existence of which
even the most insane of us
cannot deny
and it's alright that it's here
and not somewhere else.

Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

    CLICK HERE TO VISIT MY AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE AND PURCHASE MY BOOKS

  • Thinking about…

    Thinking about the next song to play. Thinking about getting up and boiling eggs. Thinking about falling asleep again. Thinking about getting my shit together. Thinking about the next song to play. Thinking about walking to the garden for no reason, but it’s too hot outside. Thinking about lighting a cigarette.

    continue reading

  • Things like that.

    I had plans. They kept failing. Nevermind. Now, I can tell everyone that failed plans do not stop a life, that life goes on anyways in one way or another. It might not be the way you wanted but it is still going on in a way. That’s nothing to feel sad about it. There’s still time, and things waiting to be done. It’s some hour of night and I am half naked in my red room, staring at the fan blades, watching them cutting air again and again. Not a word or a scream. All dead things are lying around so quietly. I can barely take it.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

  • Getting on track.

    I have been away since a month I guess. But I have been writing. I am writing as and when I manage to get time. Now that’s a lie. I think I always have time to write. It’s just that sometimes, I am not writing. But it’s not like I am doing anything else either. Most of the time, I am just alive and breathing. It could get tiring but you have got no choice in that. You have got to get tired and you have got to keep going. Sometimes, it’s like that and there’s nothing to look forward to.

    Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.