I was deliberately trying to sink myself down the waters of the hazy realization of the not so accounted for universe that blankets my abode I dwell these days. The utility of this room is still discernible although not necessarily verifiable; yet the gazillion time’s larger universe drastically flounders to spell itself out with any degree of reasonableness, for its tendency of remaining stuck up there. While this trash portion of ponder lurks in my brain, the parallel irksome thought of its eventual inefficacy meddles with the monotony of daily routine. As a consequence, so far as my analysis can describe my mind (when mind says for mind, the assessor and the assessee are the same people ; which is even more vague than the elementary conception of the taken for granted universe), I conclude my bodily gestures are restrained by absent mindedness and by unheeded ramblings. This distorted orientation messes more the putting up and makes life some smudge over the plain white air. (Although the onset of run of the mill examinations do not mandatorily trigger existentialist inquisitiveness, but they must certainly aggravate it. Deficiency of cunts despite being around as many of them baffles the consciousness too) Well, mirth could still justify the rationale of existence but not its terrible mysticism.
Interestingly, this all seems unworthy of even subtle utterance when one can tread up to her place. She is sufficiently equipped to effortlessly overturn this mindless rattle. The virtue of carnal lure and the passing idea of uninhibited love make for some brilliant clock time and trumps the sweeping philosophy stated above. If one happens to freeze eyes and hang in there with her for a while, it is usual course to long for some extended time. Henceforth, the dates, disregarding the weird awareness of being unaware under the Sun, save for the certainties of a grappling material attraction, rarely materialize into smooth conversations. Cheesy blurts and philosophical puke makes for an untidy rendezvous, an erratic interaction, which will understandably not assist up the road.
I am still sticking to my bed at ten something in the morn, with my jeans on from the evening. I need to jump out of it for these thoughts are wearing me out and successfully discouraging me to walk out to see her. In no time it shall be noon when I am required to eat lunch together. As inciting as it would be for the taste buds I know, I harbor sympathy for the chef ahead of time, in that any meal with her sitting next is insipid to the core. Belly yearns for little, and the edible is no more of interest. Expressions of a face, and shrill voice are perhaps inorganic, but I can chew them for a while after picking up the cheque. She does not realize this for she can identify the hint of mint and the body of red wine on her tongue readily.
Narrow mindedness is a vicious slave of the profound perspective. I must also confine myself in those fences, for brutal truths invariably land in unmanned lands. I must fake it to get going. As it is, language is carved to speak and that continually the irrelevant only to budge to the workable. (Although I just realized all the irrelevant flutter just assumes mammoth significance the moment it helps one to get to the meat or reach the relevant. Thereby, inherently, the understanding of ‘relevance’ here is in fact flawed.) And then the natural course takes shape for some good. But if one pauses to rue over the ugly outbursts borne out of the colossal ‘before-thoughts’, nothing remains shortly thereafter but for heaps of lament which breeds more of itself which then stinks and stacks up.
