Blocks: Writing

Writing for pleasure is coded language forI’m into BDSM“.

There is a lot of joy and happiness when you see a finished piece is a big fat lie, an orgasm lasts longer than that fleeting moment of joy. I’m proud of my work that has been published but I always want to do better or I see a possibility of how it could have been better. I haven’t wanted to write in the last month or so and it has been nice. There was a huge weight taken of me, this probably is the most relaxed I’ve been in the last three years.

PC: Sad Dareen

But now that this blissful ignorance has passed a month and has turned into a little fear in the corner of mental thinking space and has started collected to go full judgement day on soon and I’m defenceless.

This blissful month wasn’t fear-free all the way, there were moments of pain, anguish and desperation to write anything. I gave and wrote a line or a sentence and sounded like a bag of shit and I didn’t try writing again.

Vague memories of travel are moments of liberation. ©Vinay

I remember comparing myself to Justin Bieber, he’s 10 days younger than me and has gained the fame and fortune that I’ve wanted since the age of 9. I wasn’t exceptionally talented, I had fairly good oratory skills and a knack to write funny or impressive stuff compared to my group of peers which impressed very few people, if nobody. So the possibility never died in my head and still seems to survive somewhere deep.

Screw JB, I just want to get my degree without having to do a Sirsasana and this is when I regret bunking Yoga classes in Jain College, maybe it would have come handy. The biggest fear I’ve been nursing like my first born is of losing everything. It’s easy to say everything and not mean much, but there is a possibility of losing everything and it’s only growing stronger with every fleeting second.

Flowers, books, and incense used to be therapeutic. ©Vinay

My laptop had a bad case of the virus and I lost all the digital data I’d acquired over the last three years. I had a lot of ups and downs in recovering the data and I couldn’t carry my heavy heart anymore and decided to cry; but not a single tear drop escaped my eye. We read narrative reporting in class and the piercing coldness hit so hard it was impossible to hold back my tears.

I’m on the edge, all the freaking time and its better I take things slow rather than trying to juggle too many things because if I blow up, it ain’t going to be a pretty sight. The pain won’t go away, but I can stop acting like a pin-cushion.

Emotional numbness, disregard, contempt, hatred are growing in my heart and I don’t want to uproot them. I don’t want to talk to people, there are a few I want to talk to but a minute or two into the conversation and I want to run. There isn’t anything I believe in, pessimism is my constant state of being and the height to which I don’t care has reached peak. It’s impossible for me to do anything else on daily basis, efforts I put to get through the day are draining me of my, everything. Exhaustion has left me paralysed and with bare minimum.


To talk about primp is a really challenge because it requires introspection and reflection on my self indulgence, partial narcissism, and pride; these are things that makes me an Asshole of the highest order. I know it and have been more than happy with myself for being the amazingly awful person I am to everybody without bias.

I love the days when I care about primping up for College because I otherwise do spend a little time on primping for anywhere else. I enjoy the attention; regular practice has made me better at primping which brings me some really nice things to hear about me regularly. I hope my practice helps me get better and maybe someday it’d be a habit enough to not doubt myself or my work.

Primping is easily the first word to associate me with because of the vanity I spout with my indulgence with my hair. My hair has way too many stories, there are probably some ancient posts on my blog about my hair. I love the attention it draws and also how much of a great ice breaker it can be.
I’ve contemplating a haircut for a while now, even people who said I have nice hair wanted me to get it chopped off. But I don’t know what I want, if I want it to be gone or if I want it to be longer. The effort and time gone into to caring for the hair and protecting it from hands of the administration makes it harder to let it go. 

Middle name: Second thought

I have second thoughts about everything, every step I take, every move I plan and sometimes even about eating. I don’t know what it means to not doubt my actions and just proceed with a thought. I’m not impromptu, never did anything spontaneous, and living everyday already feels too spontaneous to do anything else. Some classic second thought moments are below.

Breakfast: It’s pulav, smells great but don’t feel like getting out of bed. But I’m hungry, I’d have to brush my teeth too. I could just go back to sleep and get up for lunch but I may not fall asleep because I’m getting hungrier.

Meeting a friend: I’ll have to get out of the house and before that I’ll have to shower, wash my hair, dress up and talk to people. I enjoy getting out and meeting only people who are a delight to hangout with or I find interesting.
The Ride (to anywhere): I could still cancel, blame family and if it’s important say someone died and get out. But I tell myself, every few minutes to pull through the crap and I’d not hate it. Then as I get closer, the urge either gets stronger or gets weaker. Weaker it gets easier it seems to get through the ordeal, and on days it’s strong, I run back home from the venue and apologies for not showing up.

Ordering : I can never pick an order, I usually look up the menu a day before and decide what I’d want to order. It’s easy bit sometimes I fever EV CV hf

Day 2: Tempted

I woke up around eight in the morning and like all Sundays lay in bed and watched my parents and sister talk in loud and booming voices. As usual I let myself stay transparent and they didn’t really acknowledge my presence or invited me in. I turned on the laptop to read my mail and my inbox was empty, no emails in the last seven hours.

Then I was told to get ready because my driving instructor was going to show up in five minutes. He did and I took the car keys and left. Last night I gave my phone back to my mom and didn’t have anything else to carry with myself. After a few minutes we rode ahead in and around the streets of HSR Layout.

The car stopped automatically twice or thrice in less than fifteen minutes because the acceleration and gear didn’t and the engine turned off. So the last line makes no sense because I still am not sure why it stopped but I know how to not repeat it, phew.

So the instructor turned the music up, it is my father’s SUV I’m learning to drive in and the songs were from my favourite playlist. No they weren’t English pop, instead old Kannada songs. He made me park the car so I could change the songs. I told him it was my playlist and he was surprised that I listen to old songs and said he thought I didn’t like the music

So the conversation grew into him explain how much he despises new songs with all the crappy lyrics. He was a pleasant man who continued to explain how the car is really good the vision is clear and told me not to be afraid. I enjoyed the driving and was comfortably better than I ever was.

I spent almost three hours driving and didn’t realize till he made stop in a corner so he could smoke a cigarette and drink tea. I came back home and my father shooed me away to talk to the instructor.

I turned on the TV to catch the episode of ‘Friends’ where Monica and Chandler were getting married. I drew parallels between ‘How I met your Mother’ and ‘Friends’ and realized that ‘Friends’ will always be my favourite. I also realized how much more I love Rachel Green, how can anybody not!

I got back to the novel ‘August, English’ I’m reading which is from the reading list my lecturer from college suggested. I’ve read a mere twenty pages and I’m already in love with the book, now I hope it doesn’t let me down anywhere.

Something new for today was me making an effort, a voluntary effort to engage in a conversation or be around my family as long as I could and I did. I was around for longer than I expected and it was a good attempt I guess.

On a happy, sad note, I got a new phone, Samsung Note2. I’m happy I got a news phone and I’m sad I can’t use it to stay in touch with my friends for the next fifteen days. Sigh.

So my day was very limited and I was really excited read the email from Shyla and it was pleasant and nice, just like her left me smiling. I wrote the minute I finished reading and I can’t wait to read her response.

I now plan to enjoy the magic of wordpress by posting a few and reading a lot of beautiful writing.