I am getting old.

But its like, I have always been this way, kinda thing, this getting old thing. Anyways thought I’ll blog it and see what comes out. That never gets old right? Heh. Anyways, I find a sweet sense of hatred in me nowadays. Good refreshing hate. Also, luckily, refreshing love, love is there somewhere too. But somehow this place and time living has become easy(yes, that’s how I refer boring as) for me. That is the problem and the solution isnt it? Fucking glorious paradox. Whether its people or their redundant wavelike emotions , up and down , UP and DOWN, or their insecurties getting more predictably annoying day by day and you getting annoyed at youself . Haha, So much fun. Predictable waves. Random waves, my toothache or my dinner skipping habits or the pigeons that stay outside my window and pose for silhouettes all day and night! What do I do? Fuck with them?

I clearly don’t belong here. Sometimes I think not in this world only. Abe!, (yes I have started using that a lot nowadays ) am serious yaar. My roommate often says, “We all need something to look forward to and someone to love, I mean that’s what everyone wants in the end right?” and he was not even asking for my approval. He just smiled proudly. A broad knowing smile. He is getting married in December. He will be 22 when he does. *Should I not ? Should I? Should I not? Should I?* mmmm… ok, fuck it–> He is Mellu. (*Curses you for judging, also if you find it any racist/offensive, you are RIGHT, make me famous*) Also after that delhiboyoutrage have been getting some interesting links. Caught this.

With that thought I’ll continewww, EH-nyways, “I think people seem so surficially afraid of what’s deep down. Floating to the next horizon floating and panting. Surficial surfers. Shouldn’t drown shouldn’t drown. No, surficially surfing sufferers. Yes. Not wishing to look down and worry the depth, or atleast ponder. Have to surf. Surf. Surf till the sun sets and surf the next day too. I just choose to float and look above. Am I right? Please tell me I am. I mean there should be someone doing this right?”

 Hello fellow surfer skimming through my blogpost, Wassa? How’ve you been?”

Sometimes I just love animation films. They just make sense like in one just grand heart warming simplicity. Watched Surf’s Up recently and was wondering why it is called surf-ing . Perhaps the surfers got too lazy they didn’t even want to tell the word surface fully, just surf- that’s it. Well fuck your inner Pink Floyd and wipe all the Cold-play that you’ll ever have in you.

Existence shouldn’t be this tough. You just be. But beyond a goal it seems like , there are no goals, you can get whatever you want , it’s all fucking there. When, your ambition has chosen to spread an easy chair and recline to music. When, your senses have become sensible enough to stop proving to any cultural paradigm. When, your vision can’t get any clearer, because if it does, then you become a control freak. Like a fucking machine. Counting minutes and making schedules for your precious human design. Oh am working out, oh this is my catching-up-with-movies time. Well When is dowhateverthefuckyoufeel like time? Do you need a smartphone to remind you of this pointless idealogical metaphor, time? and make a parody of plans?

Then there are those comfortable cynics justifying themselves by throwing sharp arrows at these cute, bubble blowing romantics when one could’ve easily popped them up cheerfully with their hands (or just let it go!), Sighabeyaar, forget them romantic bubblers who wanna live inside them. Let them.

Let them cynics give up and dig their own profound peaceful grave while poets seem to medidate down near the sea bed.

Sigh, all seems like a fucking adventure doesnt it?

Let’s dive in. Come. Let’s get some poetry.


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