Riddles and Answers.

So you've been asking. What the fuck is going on. Why the sudden change. What happened?

This is no call for help. Only answers to riddles if not more riddles to the evasive answer.

Going back to originality, returning to the passive, motherfucking earth deems it be that way.

The social introvert will always remain one, no you will not make a difference, you are not of any importance.

The lonely, he curses and utters profanities but lonely he shall remain. Company is not meant for him.

Now you say 'Shush! Your tongue dances away from the truth! You're ill, everybody needs company," with concern and a pat.

To that he smiles and his fiddle belches out more riddles; 'Nay my sweet, my tongue cannot dance and the truth remains intact; though my trunk might sway, my voice never goes astray. '

Paranoia sets in, thoughts of loss floods ye mind. 'I can heal you, let me be the one!' You cry and you pry, the lonely flew away on wings of wax and bone.

The social introvert will remain one. The lonely will die alone.

Let me be. I am me, behold the truth.

Sleepless Nights 27 - You don't belong here.

Yesterday I dreamt that I was walking along some sidewalk and it was snowing. So I took a huff from the cigarette that magically appeared and seriously, I paused and thought where the hell did the cigarette come from. Someone shouts my name from the crowd which also magically appeared. I have no idea why I brightened up, prolly was some friend or some shit. And in the case you don't know, my dreams are in the image of mood photos. Sorry, refer here.

Yes, that, grainy, lack of colours and all that shit. Digression.

So anyways, this friend hollers like a fucktard and I therefore brighten up like a fucktard. Then he runs towards me, like a fucktard, and I await, like a fucktard. Then he stabs me in the gut.

Yeah, didn't expect THAT did you. Neither did I.

So, there I was, frowning (There is no pain in dreams you moron), blood oozing out and my newly exposed intestines freezing. This is what I said to the dot:

'This is getting interesting.'

I was dying and that's what I said. Oh and best part is, my friend was grinning.

But the best part comes next. He/She leans towards me, gives me a hug and right before letting go, he/she whispers into my ear and says;

'You don't belong here, you just don't belong in this world.'

See, that part hit me. I was sure I let happy tears flow; do not the fact that your throat is at a pinpoint distance of being ripped off in the case that you do happen to make fun of this, because I dunno, I thought that here it is, a person who finally understands me. In a way, even if giving me death is a sign of acceptance and I was that appreciative of it...

Then I followed he/she everywhere she went, bleeding non stop telling him/her 'Thank you'. And asking him/her why he/she thinks I don't belong. He/She told me I knew and laughed saying me bottling shit up is okay.

Then Morpheus left. Bitch that he is. When I came to full realization of where I was, I hated it. Same room, same house, same fucking country and same body. Knee fucking malfunctioning, body moving towards a state equal to that of a skeleton... Man it'd be awesome if that fried really stabbed me...

Obsessions.

I have no idea what to fucken write anymore. Damn this rottweiler part of the creative brain.

Anyways, yes, obsessions. Currently-

I have to stop myself. Apart from writing cliche sentences like some corny fucked up geek (no offense to you mate, metaphors, really) I just saw two copies of the same book in front of me. Well not really in front of me but... One is two inches away and the other is uh... a feet away. Still, they are in a way in the line of sight, no? Digression. Damn these ramblings.

Where was I... Ah yes, obsessions.

1) Hindi movies.

No, I have no fucking idea why. It just crept from behind and pounced like some fucked up ravaged mutant grasshopper. Oh and the part where I can understand bits and pieces makes it all the more bearable. Heck even the damn songs and 'Blink-change costume-Blink-change costume' thing becomes bearable. In fact, the love songs, albeit corny as uh... corn, turns out to be actually fucken poetic. Which is good. You know. *Cough*

2) Pissing you off with big words and twisted explanations.

Again, no, I'm not congenitally born with it. Or was I? Sorry, turns out that when you're a day old, it's hard to remember stuff when all you can feel is a fucking gloved hand smacking your ass. Talk about child abuse.

Anyways, it seems particularly pleasing when after a long argument, the argumentee (See, I just made up a word!) gives a Fuck-you-I-give-up-you-know-it-all-fucktard-twit laugh/look/stab. Scratch that last one, they usually don't go that far. Apart from satisfying my huge parasitic ego, it's kinda fun actually. Oh and I'm the argumentor, see, that way it makes sense, me argumentor, you argumentee, we make sense here, no? Oh and it could only be done to full uh... fulfillment in English apparently. Damn those hard to translate Bahasa words.

3) The Sahara

How do I put it so that it doesn't sound as if I have a fetish for deserts. Ah, got it. See, I thought of writing a whole blog post on it but I can't seem to start. See, I look at everything with this sense of 'Is this it?' but as soon as I got in that fucken desert, there's this thing that keeps on ringing in my mind. It says: HOLY SHIT.

Seriously. It's hard to imagine how that massive piece of land could be covered in just sand, sand as far as the eyes can see, sand everywhere; fuck man, I came back to Alexandria and I had fucking sand in my fucking hair. And ear. AND EAR! I mean. Fuck. I was brought upon my knees by... sand. If that wasn't bad enough, the jeep stops and in the midst of everything... There was a fucking huge pool of fucking water. Ice cold water. What. The. Fuck. In the middle of the fucking desert. A fucking pool of water. Apparently, I'm the only one tripping over this. Then night comes and the fucking sky is filled with a shitload of motherfucking stars. That is the first time in my life that I had trouble looking for Sirius. Why?

This.

I'm not shitting you. Those shit aint noise. It's stars. A shit-fucking-load of them.

Okay fine, take this instead.

I think the only thing that would do justice is this.

In the Sahara, everywhere I looked, I saw God.

4) Jhumpa Lahiri.

She's an author. With a fairly weird name. Anyways.

Her material is usually what I kind of stay away from, it's boring reality, predictable stuff ya know. Or so I thought. Oh man, it's reality alright, but fuck man the way she tells it, and that final fucking twist that eventually twists again... That's the shit that makes it real absorbing. And it's all Indian. Jay Hind! Really good stuff. If anyone asks for the reason I miss my lectures, it'll be her name coming up. Among other stuff.

5) Getting into fucking OneExposure.

Go here. And you'll understand. Or not. Either way, I don't care.

For those who do understand, here's a rough sketch of what 1x is all about. Amazing photographers meet and makes awesome webpage. Awesome webpage attracts more awesome photographers. More awesome photographers makes awesome community. Awesome community plans on world domination. Awesome world domination leads to awesome world.

Uh. I think you know where to stop.

Somebody once asked me to my face; 'Do you think you have the talent? Do you think you're actually fucking good enough to be a photographer and make it a career? Do you?'

See, I said something back there in which I had no proof of, no solid evidence to shove back into the other's face. I said 'Yes.' Well, with a bit more aggression and confidence, but you get the point. Later I thought of it I felt fucking stupid. In what position was I to say that? In what fucking base was I standing on? Fuck that shit. Fuck that to the circles of Dante's hell. To this day I regret what I said. Why? Because it made me a fucking hypocrite. It made me stoop down to the level of posers, to the level of phonies and shit. Getting into 1x will be my fucking ticket towards my redemption. That's why with each and every reject I'll feel like a fucktard. An inferior fucktard. It means that what that person asked was true. And I do not like to be proved wrong. My ego is way too big for that.

6) Finally coming to the day when my fucking overdue short stories and fucking novels are done.

Yes, that. Referring to the very top of the post (Yes, begin scrolling up now.) the creative part of me brain is like a... shot of endorphin. It's awesome when you get it, then as time goes on, it fades, then something triggers it and then it goes away again and then the cycle repeats itself. See usually for this trigger to launch, the environment comprises me in addition to some other exciting stuff eg. having a debate on some god knows topic that nobody else could understand, running round dodgy staircases to get to the rooftop, taking long walks in the rain or whatever you know. Here, on the other hand, well lets just say the environment serves no purpose except to cage me in a glass prison and/or fill me with hate. And you people ask me why I haven't been writing as much. Ha-ha. Fuck you.

Oh and if you missed it the first time, those purple underlined stuff are links. Yeah, who could've known.