I AM The Universe: Random Thoughts

“In short, my friend,” I continued, “I am determined that Senor Don Quixote shall remain buried in the archives of his own La Mancha until Heaven provide some one to garnish him with all those things he stands in need of; because I find myself, through my shallowness and want of learning, unequal to supplying them, and because I am by nature shy and careless about hunting for authors to say what I myself can say without them. Hence the cogitation and abstraction you found me in, and reason enough, what you have heard from me.”

There’s a certain pleasure in being.. average. A very particular lightness that’s familiar, but never worn out. The knowledge that no consequence of your imagination will be significant enough to make the sky turn a hazy purple. That no turn of the weather – be it for better or for worse – will be attributed to you. That your actions wash over whatever substance there may be even in your own existence. There’s a certain pleasure in being mundane.

There’s a certain calm in being ordinary. There’s a certain calm in being simple. In knowing that maybe someone somewhere appreciates simplicity more than intrigue.

3.00 a.m.

Approaching the bed, he reached for the covers, desperate to get between them and catch a much-needed sleep It hadn’t been a particularly long day, yet it seemed to have been full of memories and triggers. His mind kept racing back and forth, over all the years past, back to his high school days, when the charm of a new romance had first caught his imagination. He chucked to himself as these very words streamed through his head – “Hah! The charm of a new romance!”

The curtains were already draped closed, but a slight parting caught his eye. “Sometimes”, he told himself “you see too much. And that’s why you’re awake at 3 in the morning!” The mist on the darking window looked too appealing to let slip away to sleep. He parted the curtains a bit, and smiled as the lights from across the coastline blurred gracefully out of their crisp routine. “We should have such humidity more often here!”

He sat watching nothing, thinking nothing, for a little while, but then words started randomly filling his mind. He grabbed his notebook from the side table and turned to a fresh page. Momentarily hi paused to look at the page before that, and the only two lines written upon it:

“Dear Life, Frankly speaking, I’m disappointed – I expected more from you.”

“Ah, now is not the time!” And he began to write. Hardly had he written a line that his mind began to wander. “I wonder why people don’t use fountain pens anymore!” And again his mind started to wander, without consent, without regard. he went back to the time he had last used a fountain pen. And then his mind was filled with the tic-tic-tac of the cheap ball-point pens from the lecture halls at college. All of a sudden, the Mont Blanc between his fingers lost it’s charm, it it slipped without grace onto the last page on his notebook:

“Dear Life, Frankly speaking, I’m disappointed – I expected more from you.”

“Sometimes,” he told himself “you see too much. And sometimes, not quite enough!”

P.S. Yes, the thumbnail is my own picture.

I was preparing my computer for an OS upgrade today, so I was going through the usual making-sure-that-your-backups-are-up-to-date routine… okay so maybe that isn’t a routine.. hell I rarely ever take backups But anyway I was doing that today. And while going through the three million documents in the “Documents” folder, I came across a lot of stuff I had written some time back and forgotten about. And I thought I’d start posting some of those things here. Here’s the first of those. And please, no Haaza kuf’r on this

Me and I

O traveller, O company,
Where do your Gods take you?
To a numbered cloud,
To a stature proud?
Away from deception,
To a utopia unfound?
Do you walk with One of them,
Standing by your back,
Always waiting, always watching?
Do you you walk with one of them,
Like the air inside your chest,
Like the breath that never draws?
Are your footsteps divine,
Like the whispers they said?
Do your nights shine,
With the light of the brightest day?
Do they give you their dreams,
When slumber may fall?
Do they guard your words,
Like a promise they made?

O villager, O breeze,
I walk alone, I walk alone!
My direction wherever chance would have me,
My nights wherever my sights are heavy,
And my dreams are my own!
I whisper my days myself,
And what I draw in, I draw out.
My words also bleed,
Should you prick them with doubt!

O villager, O breeze,
I walk alone, I walk alone!

Radiohead – House of Cards

I don’t wanna be your friend
I just wanna be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards
And I’ll do mine
Forget about your house of cards
And I’ll do mine

And fall off the table, get swept under

Denial, denial

The infrastructure will collapse
Voltage spikes
Throw your keys in the bowl
Kiss your husband goodnight

Forget about your house of cards
And I’ll do mine
Forget about your house of cards
And I’ll do mine

Fall off the table, get swept under

Denial, denial
Denial, denial

Your ears should be burning
Denial, denial
Your ears should be burning