Thursday, November 09, 2006

This ought to be funny I guess. Now , this moment, I am free. As free as a man can ever be. Yes I am still a slave of many of my habits, of social customs, emotional bonds to a certain extent still, I feel I am free unlike everyone else. I am not scampering for anything in my life. I dont feel the need to go after anything or anyone. I am kinda super sober. Seriously said I dont even feel any kinda emotion as of now. Emotionally totally blank. Its just that I can think, think clearly at that, without passion. Every damn thing seems crystal clear. I dont have grudge against anything or anyone.

My life in retrospect seems empty and at the same time full. Everything seems so paradoxical for me. Most of all myself!. I have an ego that takes offense for the slightest of reasons but then I myself try to burst my ego every now and then. All through my behaviour this sort of paradox seems prevalent. I sometimes feel that I act like a man weighed with age and some of the times like a child who feels the wonder at every new thing that he comes across.

Usually I type in the blogger window, but for a change this is in a notepad file. It seems that how the words form in front you can have an impact upon the texture of what you are writing. This might seem pretty stupid but.. then. what doesnt.

Recently I read three plays of Sartre. The flies, Dirty Hands, The Respectable Prostitute. It was a nice experience reading all of em. Felt really great. When compared to all the recent books I read There seems none which belongs even in the same class. Sartre, Camus, Kafka whats it about that makes me go gaga! But then i didnt like. Sartre's novel Nausea. To say the truth I felt that it was kinda too much nauseating without even a hint of a plot. Usually its the amusing aspect of life from a third person's view that is so alluring in all these stories. I have only read The Stranger by Camus and liked it like anything. But it seems the plays written by Camus and Sartre are even better. Gotta buy them one of these days. :)

Lol I really dont have anything to do I guess. Yeah it does give me a kinda kick to just go on typing . And it give me even more kick just to type with my eyes closed. Without even looking into the monitor. Imagining the words forming in the screen. Wah. It feels great.

In "The flies" there is this famous statement "At the far side of despair, life begins". It feels so true. So much the deeper you go into despair and depression that much you know more about whats it to be truly happy. So that you can even be happy for the fact that you are happy. Which is a never ending cycle.

Ah why do I write so pathetically. Shit. I wanna talk but then there is nobody. Ok agreed there are guys whom I could call up and talk about this very same stuff but that wouldnt be same as sitting side by side in a sofa or on wet grass and talking about what comes to ones mind. The later is so so very liberating and exhilarating for me.

Life seems so short and stretched out at the same time. Lol what kinda sentance is that. I dont exactly remember but I guess its Asimov who said that time is something that resists definition. This life seems so bare and marvelous at the same time. Why so? I dont even know Why I said that. I have this jinx with many a books. I kinda read upto about the halfway mark and then never get around to finishing those books. there are about... 8-10 books like that. I need to get over this habit. Usually what happens is when the book makes you think, I tend to start from all over, because its fun to reread it and.. think from different perspectives.

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