tangent

The worn out painting on the wall is timeless. Looking at the contents you could make a statement like "no earlier than", but cannot say when. The donor had chosen to remain anonymous just like the painter and did not furnish the details of its origin either. The colors and the shapes are not unique of course, but the blend can throw anyone off from trying to fix its origin. The scene does not contain anything unknown. It is rather unimpressive for that reason. But you can hardly call a painting, that changes itself, a painting, can you? No one else can see that. But I do. Everyone else sees the painting. I alone see the changes. I have come to see this painting many a time. On no two occasions has it remained the same. I spend a good part of an hour talking to one or more people standing in front of this painting every time I visit. I don't do anything else.

After an hour of pointing my finger and tilting my head while talking to a few people, I decided to leave. I turned right and counted my steps. I turned right again and counted four times the number of steps. I think I am getting old. I remembered that on the way in, after 5 years, I had to take a few extra steps than the usual. My stride has become smaller. I carefully moved down the steps feeling with the cane and once at the bottom I put on my shades and walked to the curb. I raised a hand. A cab pulled up. In the comfort of the cab, I chuckled. Then I became quiet just as fast. The joke's on me.

severance

It is true until it is said.

I have to take a few words out of my head and throw them in the trash can. I wish I could draw.

I want to invite many people to 'the restaurant at the end of the universe', the previous universe, and tell them that I am more or less gone. There's a difference between curiosity and caring. Under that distinction, now a days, I am a machine. People remain connected by inertia, prejudice, illusions, denials, microscopic short sightedness which refuse to see the whole truth under blind love or blinds I have drawn down. An understanding has come from within and all perceptions from outside have to rebuild themselves. Trying to project a new image wreaks futility. In most cases it is language that stands in the way, overlapping with a refusal to utter a syllable. I have not answered personal calls for a while. Curiosity, energy and insecurity all give way to an indifference and unwillingness. I don't know what to talk anymore. I understand work alone, though I am disinterested at present. The water here, still and shallow, is mixing into the invisible inevitable draft of life.

I am letting people go, as finally, just as I hoped, I am let go. It would have saved guilt, if it had come early enough to beat the indifference. It is not even I and the world, it is only the world, my skin is punctured and hollow.

swatting

I took the big fat book and set it on the table. There is the cat too sitting near my foot. Or is that written in the book? may be. I closed the cover, to find that the book is open. Err... ok. I closed it again and it was closed. Fine. I understand. I had closed it. I looked at my foot. The cat wasn't there. I opened the book again. It was closed of course. I just closed it again. I walked backwards and entered the dusk by the front door and kept walking, receding from the house until I hit the big tree and turned to face it. Sitting down at its base I stared up. Holding the trunk for support I leaned back. The branches spanned out so far and so long and finally the top of the house came into view and there it was... a cat. I turned around fast to look at it. It was still there. It stood there and stared at me. It was an unusual cat, black with gray spots on it. I have seen it a few times. It started to walk. It disappeared into the dusk at the other end of the roof. I walked forwards and got into the house. My cat was near the fire place, swatting insects. No gray on this one. I kicked the cat out of the house and closed the door.

cliché

:)
stop smiling.
:)
pipe down.
Sorry can't help it. :).It is just this thing I remembered :)
...

:(
Why so gloomy?
It is miserable...
you are a blithering idiot.

:)
what?
Tomorrow, this is going to feel real silly.
It already does.

Groundhog day

We like to count and measure things and take stock. Another popular kind of milestone has come and it is almost gone - the calendar year. I wish those who wish me. It is a very useful event, for which I have very little use. I have this natural tendency to look at the other side of the coin always and also lack a conviction in pretty much everything. It can be called anything from a balanced mind to the ficklest. I exist in poles and tend to reverse polarity, so what's attractive now is pushed away later.

Instead of getting myself in a loop by thinking on both sides, I have started to put the best foot forward and see where it goes. Calling in sick for two days without being sick and avoiding work is not the best place where you start doing such a thing, but the cogs are just not willing to turn for what I have now almost accepted as a day job. The bosses are on vacation, otherwise I would have told them all this already. A month ago, people were asking me to take a vacation. Three/Four months of non-stop-weekend-inclusive-long-hour working is disconcerting for anyone to watch. I have taken that vacation. Now I am not able to end it. I feel like I am just stuck with the job. I don't know if I like it. I don't know what I would like to do either. Perhaps something that does not require you to sit in one place and think day in and day out. May be do something where your efforts show a tangible change. Like, cleaning your room or cooking your own food or brushing teeth. All of a sudden, it does not make sense to make a few electronic brains tick and show some intangible results and make virtual money. It is repulsive. I don't know if I want to go to work tomorrow either. The boss might call me and make me work of course. He will have all the weapons of truth on his side -- this job is easy money. It is something I had wanted to do. It is what feeds me. There really are not too many skills in my resume for me to get a different job. I am chicken when it comes to 'change'. Have to pay off the loans. But, the message is simply not sinking in. Unless I really empty the bank balance and start to starve, as things stand, I am simply not going to work. There is no hunger for this food called work. I am also anorexic. Call me lazy. I did. But looks like I am too lazy to allow it to bother me.

If I don't work tomorrow, I will starve myself to simulate poverty and see if that helps.

update: I didn't have to starve. Just woke up on the right side of the bed.