Nausea 2

It's been quite a while, that when I get up in the morning I see vivid dreams of things I have to do that day, they occur in such detail and in so properly spaced episodes; breaking and resuming again coinciding with my frequent wake ups to check the time on the wall clock or to drink water from the amber yellow glass streaked with hand painted vertical lines kept on the white enamel painted wooden windowsill and sometimes to go to bathroom to spit the mucus that accumulates in the upper regions of my throat due to perennial cold, that I don’t feel like getting up, I keep on sleeping, changing positions on the old mattress, trying to neglect the slightly nudging pain that prolonged sleep has plastered on my body; thinking that the day has started and so the work I intended to do.

I don't know exactly when this started happening but if I have to pin it down on events rather than times, then I can say it started happening when I started getting worried about my life and time in NYC, I mean it's significant to me since after may be 17 years it's the first time that I have started getting worried. I have never been depressed since that log time in my life either. My way of dealing with depression is sleeping it over since it's the same condition we try to acquire when we meditate to reduce the beta waves in our brain. And I can say that it has been helpful but the only problem is that all the time I sleep, I consider it wasted, which I would not do so if I spend even double the amount of time meditating, but I guess methods that are approved to achieve a result no matter what, they give you a sense of achievement while if you achieve same result by any other method, not approved, you feel bad about it.

These supposed dream sequences which makes me feel that I have already started my days have replaced my earlier and much uglier episodes of nightmare, where I constantly saw myself falling from height and hence never slept for more than an hour or two at a stretch....I always used to wake up once within that time. So I can’t say if the situation has improved with me.

Going beyond myself, the city doesn't help me much either. Though it is almost onset of the summer, the days that start with bright sun light are still infrequent and the dreary, cold, overcast sky that I see through my dusty double paned glass window adds a heavy, foggy, condensing burden on my senses. The bare and simile red brick apartments that have become familiar to me, fail to cheer me, even the one way rattling sound of number 1 subway fails to convey motion of the day, dynamism of the city or the fact that other people are up and about, people who must get up and do certain duties that are mood independent. I wish I had been one of them, who can’t avoid getting up and opening shops, running trains, buses and taxis, or serving in the restaurants.

But alas! I have more liberty with my day that even an existentialist will be afraid to handle!

tbc....

Pub Culture Vs Whatever

Western culture as perceived by eastern people or the right wing nationalist party in most country is a culture of decadence, something that pollutes other culture.

What they don’t understand is that western/American culture is a culture of convenience. And the westerner invariably come out with things to use in every aspect of life that are much better or convenient to accept than any attempt made by right winger (if they are doing it) and hence are bound to be liked by general masses worldwide. So why don’t they for a change come out with more attractive things than just rejecting guiltily all things western?

Also, why these right wingers are selective in their rejection? Right from the first thing used by them in morning; the toothbrush to every other thing used by them throughout the day is mostly invented by these westerns to make modern and progressive life easier and yet they take some ‘symbolic’ things as polluting and try to vent their guilt at.

Why don’t they grow up? Contrary to evolutionary creed explained by Darwin they refuge stubbornly to do so. I mean even if you are believer and creationist you can still guess that humanity due to its mental capability is destined or doomed to keep on progressing so why not aid it constructively than try to abate it foolishly?

Again taking Darwin’s theory (can’t escape this grand old man) let people choose (even I choose selectively of all the tempting things that exist in a ‘place’ like New York) to do what they want to do and let the survival of fittest theory prevail. Even the dandy dapper English hat went out of fashion since it was not convenient so does Hippy movement, drugs and free sex of sixties. More things will phase out even the idea of ‘convenience’. Don’t worry, if chastity belt, al-Qaida, blowing up people in name of religion and religion itself is convenient it will prevail and jeans, noodle strap, valentine's day, right of abortion and idea of happiness will fade if its not convenient, but let it happen by itself don’t force it.
I can go on but don’t have time. May be some other time I will complete it.

Enemy

" The more powerful you become, the more powerful enemies you create."

The Butterfly that could not go beyond the glass!!

Aimlessness

Aimlessness is a passion that is rarely accepted by ordinary people. In fact I can very well say that the solitary, aching, dreaming and musing heart is the only candidate who can claim such wafting-like-smoke characteristic; since he is someone who is not ordinary and, is someone who is rare too, to this, and accepts this rare condition and blithely get lost in it.

Otherwise, why do you think that someone with myriads of activities to do will seek this aimlessness? The mind if not the visible body, in this modern world is so full of activity that in absence of something to do, one gets panicked and rushes to do something lest he is caught sitting alone and staring nowhere in particular in a park or drinking coffee and just sitting, forget about holding an open book without reading a single line and, no matter how much you stare it refuses to yield to the entire history of etymological training ….such joys!!!

Yes, joy! Because whenever I am alone and not plagued by demands of my environment and the inextricable social entanglement that comes from knowing people (though I know less people), what come in my mind most often is the abstractedly fleeting moments I have encountered while apparently doing something else. Like the lazily drifting string of soot coming out of an incense stick (which she often lights) that get disturbed shockingly in a perfectly still sunlit bedroom when I walk in to it to fetch a mundane article, or the cascading shadows of the rumbling number 1 train passing over the rickety metal bridge that I see through the double glass window pane; hot from outside with the persisting sunrays and cold from inside with the condensed water drop that evaporate from the Tulsi that she has kept on the wooden window sill. Though I have rarely wondered about why the sunny day of a winter looks different than the same sunny day of summer from inside the house, I feel that I have spent years coming to the realizing that the difference is not the temperature which I can’t feel from inside the room but the change in the suns position and hence the shadows of the things that absently keeps bothering me. Or the isolated events and places that keeps popping up in my mind anachronistically, as if by some power I am rushing through them at the speed of light!

I wish I could start an aimless day and wander on the streets or sit somewhere without pretending to do anything no matter how badly I want to do it. Or have the temerity to brush away the nagging idea that doing something like everyone else is the only way to get accepted by the suffering miserable lot, from whom I want to run away in the first place. I mean how many times when I just sit quite somewhere even in my room, I do not get perturbed by the idea that I am not doing anything and spoil the very idea of inactivity. Why don’t I just sit in an obscure café, may be something named silver moon and enjoy the aroma of boiled bergamot orange without milk and meager amount of sugar and watch my brown brown reflection and, not think that the reflection I am watching will stay with me and not melt in the background of my thoughts? I mean even that reflection ask me question after sometime – “what am I thinking?” Even the muse gets perplexed if the artist spends more than few minutes absorbing the existence of the muse. While for me, In front of that perfect muse I would want the day to pass in the same place in front of me and I should not do anything but let it pass. Sometimes I think what if I can perceive the time as a thick mirror that slows the speed of light so that the time will pass slowly or what if I can jump in and out of those mathematically existing parallel universes, and stay at same place and keep sitting doing nothing but watching every activity in every universe. It overwhelms me, I mean the idea that I won’t get bored. Since, I am so much accustomed to the idea of this world that, I will get bored.

It’s not like that I am framing this idea of inactivity or aimlessness on myself or anybody in particular since these same habits have given me the greatest joys of my life. Someone will say that I got lucky even if he has to acknowledge that, that luck has been persistent. And that’s why I seek that aimlessness and an empty day.

So what do I do when I get confronted with this futile idea of activity even when in company of perfectly singular and subjectively personal entity?

I should do nothing.

PS: a poem " The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot that i often read when i feel like this....which has few things that i missed in this blog....here is only a portion of that....

..........And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?.............