Smorgasbord

Marquez once said that he wrote things the way they happened to him… in his head. All that magic was really a part of his life. [Perhaps he didn’t quite say it in these words. But I swear that he did imply it.]

Vimalananda too says that only what you experience and how you experience it is what matters. Objectivity is overrated.

Perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn’t. I really can’t be bothered with it.

Right now my head is like a post-monsoon tropical jungle. Teaming with rot and growth. There’re things that need to be amputated. Things that need to grow. Things that should get a chance to live. New ideas that must see the light of day… and yet… is the soil fertile enough?

Right now, I wish my mind could go beyond pointless cerebral masturbation and get on with the fucking business of producing.

And I had promised that under no circumstances would I defile my space with any sort of profanity. Haaah. So much for self-imposed-restraint. Poopy.

Right now John Donne is God once more. He always always know just how to say the things I would like to say... succinctly, perfectly & with a flying stinging kick.

There’s a monster in my head. And right now it’s feeling peevishly peckish.

Great, and now I've gone ahead and nearly sliced my index finger off. It's very dramatic to see your blood dripping everywhere. Vindictive little cliche goading me. Spiteful shite.