gibberish

it is the precise moment when you suddenly realize that you have lost your name; the name that marked you with a specific singularity. now you could be anyone. or rather no one for that matter. in fact it doesn't even matter whether you are one or many. whether there is anything singularly particular about you to declare you to be a single unit of life or you are just the same as a collective. why would you be the one...the singular unit? what is so particularly distinctive about you now, that you have lost your identity? what is left of you is just flesh and bones and that could just be anyone. or no one. just a collective. for instance if you see a pile of bones, would you be able to distinguish one of them from the others? in a pile of bones, none of it has any singular-ness left to it. it is a collective hence. similarly, stripped of your identity, you are now a collective. you could be anyone. or no one.but never Someone.

life hasn't been particularly kind for the last four days, since i came home.in fact they have been horribly screwed. and by this morning, i was desperate for weed. so used old contacts and called up a few people. procuring weed is not hard in cal. it never was.came back home, in the night, happy for the first time in four days, with weed enough for five joints.
i went to my room and locked the door. a very important thought suddenly struck me...paper? shit, i didn't have paper. what now? it was like the whole sky fell down on my head. i roamed around the room in madness and frenzy, looking through every stash of paper to see if anything matches the texture of a rolling paper. but nothing  was found. some of it was too thick. some was too thin.
i sat down, really disappointed. what the hell man. now i have pot but no paper to roll it in. shit. how could i forget about the paper. as i was about to bang my head in desperation, something strange struck me. i ran to my cupboard and took out a packet of sanitary napkin, opened one, stripped of the back glue paper...and bingo..that back glue paper of the sanitary napkin was perfect for rolling pot.
for the next few minutes i could not believe myself. i stripped of  quite a few of the napkins for the glue paper, took everything and went upstairs to the terrace.
sat there, rolled up three neat joints and smoked up all of it within twenty minutes.
bliss. :D

rains...storm....lightening...hope...dreams...spiral waves...blue light...wet grass...

it is a big cobweb. of hopes and dreams and intuitions and idosyncrasies, of betrayal and hatred and heartbreak and more heartbreak. and every day, we make our way through this extremely complicated cobweb. moving it aside, shoving it off with our hands, we try to make some sense of it. we do succeed a bit everyday. but as each night we go to sleep, everything goes back to where it was. and hence the next morning again begins by starting everything from scratch. it is so tiring, doing this same thing everyday, over and over again.

why is death so lucrative??
why does it seem to be the sweetest thing possible at times???

and yes...i am bitter.extremely bitter
i am so bitter that people cannot take me.i am so bitter that no one can live with me. i am so bitter that anyone who knows me will have no option left but to hate me.

I know all this. you better know i too and learn to deal with it.

i woke up...but didn't know why. my waking up has lost meaning. why do i wake up? what difference would it make to the world if i didn't wake up? if i just kept sleeping? what would go wrong in the world out there then? my existence has come down to get sold...sell....everyone out there...sell me...sell my things...sell my soul...

no one needs me anymore...no one needs my things anymore.i mean i do not need them. why will other people need them? so sell. i am piece of junk. my things are junks. so what do you do with junks? sell. sell them.

no one needs me. no one needs my things...

i am tired. i want to run away. have no clue where...

I WANT SOME MEANING IN MY LIFE.....

tonight, it is a very weird night. a part of me has been given out, in exchange of money. buuuuuaaaaaaah.it is a brilliant feeling. it has been sold. by my mother. to someone who is going to treat it like a piece of junk.

i want to scream at her.shout at her.

want to throw something and break it. want a lot of grass.

cannot do any of that.