utterences

My time is frozen, and I am in time. The time rests in a moment which spans the boundaries of a unfaded memory. The horizon is a twilight of yellow light. The yellow mercury bulbs, which shopkeepers have put on to attract the customers. The people pace without no faces outside their shops. Shopkeepers hope in the yellow light of mercury bulbs; the faceless are customers who will buy time from them.
I wanted to be in the white light of tube lights - the omnipresent white florescent light which would jealous the Fire Fly. The light in which you and I will laugh the eternal laughter of Mozart.
I wanted to feel the yellow light on my face. I wanted to touch the horizon; hear the yellow laugh of the yellow star. I am blinded and now the horizon is there, and I am there, but the earth and the sky do not meet here anymore.

Ciabbata

I have realized that my quest is not for the answers to the questions, but for the questions that linger in my existence. There are things that I observe, and for every instance that I observe is a set pattern - a predictable pattern. I can predict, but this leads to an overwhelming question that what is the question for which I am observing it?
Apart from that, each new day in front of the mirror I see this guy, and think that if I were him, I would brush my teeth right now, and shave this fur of my face. I am consequently defined by what I do not wish to become. This is not a life, its a false positive of a life. How unstable can one be? My only effort is to hold of and ward off what is inevitable.
And then I have these memories, which basically define me. I am a function of this time that I have spent:
[Me=f(t)= Integral (first day of life to this day) f(t)dt]
When I first read about Gregor Samsa in Kafka's Metamorphosis, I thought of DDT. But that is beside the point.
How pathetically, I define myself with a mathematical expression. Its almost genius, almost.

Oppertunist me

I am being chased by this pernecious demonic creature. It tests my determination, but every time I beat it in its own games through the power of my sheer will.
I am driving a car, and my car is getting heavier and heavier, I cannot accelerate any more and its slowing down. I turn back and see the demon is in the car. I get out of the car and start running away from it.
It is an old house, perhaps my grand father's old house, and I am going to the terrace from the front stairs. The demon is around here; I feel it.
I see a man with no face, and I know its the same creature that has followed me - now disguised as David Blane. I argue with it and forcefully convince him to leave me alone - once again I have exercised my will to get rid of it.
What is this room? I cannot recall it? Is that Mephistopheles? So he wants my soul now? Technically I could sell it - I am not using it anyways. But, its a matter of principles and I will not subdue. So I bargain and defeat him in his own arena. I grin victoriously. "I am invincible".
I am in my bed room. I do not know this woman's face. But I do know that it is the same creature. She is trying to seduce me now. I notice she has such a pretty face. I am sitting on this easy chair, and she is standing right infront of me. Without uttering a word she takes off her clothes, and starts walking towards me. Just when she is about to sit in my lap, I think to myself
"I am invincible ..."
"...but its only a dream, so what the hell!!"
I let her sit in my lap and give in ...
A feeling of ecstasy rocked my body.I was awake now looking in the dark, and smiling to myself, "I am invincible".

The Clamor

The clamor. I remember being up at 7, and not being happy to the see the fog covered streets of my city. Curiosity is in my nature, and fog and mists are natrually a source of excitement for me, but in those days - those particular days - I had to be up and go play cricket in the ground next to that 150 year old Gothic style Cathedrel on sundays. The Clamor, among the mist of the church bells I cannot forget. It resounds in my mind even today, as it is only seperated from me by the mist in between - a mist of time perhaps.
And I remember, at one point in my life I also thought that the bell sound like Ub-40's "Dont break my heart", and I would just sit there and listen to the clamor through the fog. Who would have thought that I'd fall in love with a church-bell. Who would have thought that I'd miss my city so much.

King Lear just before Shakespear's tragedy

Ladies, and Gentlemen,
Finally I have started filming my version of the King Lear http://invince.blogspot.com/2005/09/king-lear-like-never-before-my-very.html and it will be posted here shortly; as soon as it is finished.
This effort is solely to demonstrate that Monty Python can suck my balls!!
(well not really - braging helps)

Legs for the elephants supporting naked conscious with a square "Unsatiated Desire"

The Elephents, 1948 by Dali

A figure in the window (and another in the sky) by Dali

The top one is the original by Salvador Dali. The one at the bottom is my version of it.

Stream of pissing conciousness

Once upon a time, there was a present day - today. Well, not today as in "whats today?" but this present year, or rather present time. So once upon this present time; as a matter of fact it could have been more than once. So, upon a time, this time, there lives a breed on this planet who cherish ignorance. Some call them trigger happy rednecks, some call them rednecks, and some call them republicans, and some even call them by their name - but the title is not important at this point in time. When that time, which is now, was upon us in the story that is being told, then that time is right now, so in this time, these people are disconnected with reality, or at least it can be said that what is real for the rest of the world, may not be real for them, or those people as our story goes.
The epitome of the ignorance shines in the fact that they have not converted to SI metric units, and use their trusted old pounds for weights. Which brings us to another convincing reason of obeseity in their society, why they weigh so much, or why they are so big; its because for every Kilogram there are 2 pounds.
Anyways, such a person believes that internet should not be neutral, and further more the unit of data must not be Kilo-bits per second (Kbps), it should be Pounds-bits per second (Lbbps). Hell, I am sure John Mc Cain is working on one such a bill.
Our story contines, and that guy sits over there smoking a sheesha. Sheesha is an interesting thing to be smoking. Well, not as interesting as a novel, or a piece of art, or when open sarcastic comments are not feasible you get away by saying "interesting", but close enough.
At this point I should be focusing on making this post interesting, because it is going no where, and I still havent found a punch line. So I am not going to continue this post. The End.
Wait, there upon a time, a hunter had a 100 piegeons. He could have bats instead. That bastard.

Transformation

"Ash to Ash.. Dust to Dust..or was it Ash to Dust ..Dust to Ash.??" [sic].*
Actually the transformation never takes place. Prometheus stays there tied; vultures continue to tear his flesh; complacency replaces pain; ashes remain ashes, and dust remains dust.


*Su-'s nick on msn.