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Wednesday, September 7, 2016

Keep Your Soul Numb

Zak




For the moment silence covers the street like a blanket. Even the neighborhood dogs seem to be sleeping. The street is empty but for me, and its emptiness makes it lonesome. Like a dry riverbed, it feels almost depressing. This isn’t how it is supposed to be. It was built for so much more. But I like that feeling. I like it because I know it’s temporary. The trick is to keep your soul numb and grind on.

I do not know why things are different tonight. Sometimes the brain latch onto something and won't let it go. Sometimes the brain is a vicious wolf that tears only at itself, but the trick is to keep your soul numb.

I stroll down the empty street, make a few turns onto other empty streets, and end up an alleyway. Homeless men and winos lying and sitting on pavement with their newspaper blankets. Some of them are asleep, other just stare at the horizon with their sad eyes.

The emotion is in there somewhere, I know it is, but it is walled in. But I understand emptiness and the need to fill it. Some people do it with booze or drugs. Some people do it with violence and some with sex. Some people do it with all of those things. Too few people get to fill it with love. There isn’t enough of that in the world to go around. The trick is to keep your soul numb if you want to survive.

More wandering and now it's almost morning.The world turns on its axis, grinding away the hours like a great stone. The dark night turns gray as morning approaches. A light touches the horizon. Tomorrow becomes today.

The morning air is warm, despite the fact that it is Autumn. I'm not sure of the exact date; each day is so like the one that came before it. Days and dates don't seem to matter. A day like any other day. A day to forget.We fall into patterns, boring and comfortable and predictable.

Sometimes I feel lost in the world of human interaction. I think after all these years of life sometimes I know what is expected of me in social situations – I have learned the correct reactions through trial and error – but it never feels natural. It feels like a performance. If I'm supposed to smile so I smile. If I'm supposed to laugh at a joke so I laugh. If I'm supposed to talk to friends about television programs so I watch television in order to have something to talk about. But I feel apart from it – separated from it by some invisible layer, stick outside even myself, in some space, watching myself interact with the world from a distance – unable to join in, even while I appear to be doing so.

I listen to people talking as they walk by on the graffiti-covered sidewalk. The sound of their voices is comforting. The sound of people remind me that even if I am set apart somehow, the rest of the world is still close by. It is strange: I don't usually like to be around people, but I like to know they are there, just floating around like lost radio waves.

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Do We Deserve Better?

Zak



Sometimes when I have time to reflect about my lack of social interaction, it surprises me in a way. It is odd to consider how little you can interact with the people who surround you day in and day out.
But then maybe everyone lives in his or her own private world, a world that overlapped with all the others. You can see one another. You can speak to one another. You can touch one another, pushing against the layers that separated your worlds. But you can never step from your own world into someone else’s. There would always be that layer through which you can not break completely. Every person has their own private world, and while they might rule it, it could be very lonely indeed.

Everyday we meet people and often we feel disappointed. It's just a misguided sense of entitlement that we believe 'The world owes us'. Sure as hell it doesn't. I don’t deserve anything. Nobody does. We’re born and we live the life we live, and if we’re lucky we have some good times along with the bad ones, but we ain't owed them. That’s the problem with people today. They think the world owes them something simply because their mothers pushed them from their frigging loins. The world owes nobody anything. Once the umbilical cord is cut, you belong to the world; the world does not belong to you. People should understand that. Sometimes it will beat the shit out of you, maybe oftentimes. Sometimes it will treat you kind, those moments could be rare though. But you belong to it, not the other way around. I’m fucking ranting, ain't I?

The upshot is, you get what you get, while you can hope life gives you a break once in a while and craps on someone else but that's all you can do. But if it doesn't, you just got to suck it up and deal with it. Because dwelling on your haplessness only makes you more miserable than you already are. 



Monday, February 8, 2016

Magma Inside a Volcano


As pool of turmoil churns like magma inside a volcano. I struggle constantly to contain this nagging sense of doom and inner rage that seem to intensify as I grow older. I thought I knew its origins, believed I had a fundamental understanding of the events that had nurtured it over the course of my life, and I’d attempted to take steps – many steps – in a sustained and determined effort to diffuse it, but still it remains. 

Most often, the rage manifests itself in the form of nightmares – vivid, violent scenes that cause me to wake up screaming and sweating. Worst of all, they cause me to fear sleep, to avoid it at both a conscious and subconscious level, and the resulting deprivation inevitably results in exhaustion, follows by restless, involuntary sleep, and even more nightmares. Occasionally, if enough pressure is brought to bear, the psychic magma spills over the sides of my inner volcano into molten lava and I lash out, sometimes verbally, sometimes physically. It is as if I have suddenly become some type of feral being, undomesticated and violent, and I focus my rage upon whatever, or whomever, have caused the internal pressure to rise to the boiling point.
Whenever it happens, whenever I allow the demons from the past to gain the upper hand, I wind turn, and wait for things to be alright. As the cliché goes, everything will be alright in the end, if it aint, it's not yet the end.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

A Dream in Which I Die Every Night

Zaka


As usual I couldn't sleep till the wee hours of morn but when I did, a dream in which I died, woke me up. Since then, I have been awake and contemplating but can't come up with any explanation. In other words, I'm clueless. It's almost 600 hours on the clock and I feel pretty lousy. I'm listening to the tick-tock of the clock and ruminating about my dream.

As my insomnia getting worse, this same recurring dream becoming a sort of nuisance. I used to forget about it within minutes of waking up and go back to sleep but now, with this insomnia, I simply don't have a choice except to thing about it. It's all started ten months before.

At night, I keep having a dream where I am on a makeshift raft without an oar, floating down the middle of a wide, raging river that is rushing me towards a deadly waterfall. I cannot get to the side of the river, and I can't go back upstream. I used to wake up just as I went over the falls. But lately, I go over the falls and sometime hit a rock downstream and drowned, other time, I wash up on the shore dead.

Friday, December 25, 2015

Adieu


Under the gray autumnal sky
In silence, we stood
For a long, quiet moment,
Then she said 'let’s talk about something else'
We knew there was nothing to talk about
And,
We walked our separate ways.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Chaotic Souls Are The Fuel That Drive Twitter....!

Zaka

Antisocial beings are sort of rebels in their own subtle ways. Asocial behavior is a trait of intelligence in a world full of conformists, which is unacceptable in this conformist world. So, we don't try to fit in, and on account of that we are seen odd, weird for some. Some just say 'Nerds', while others call us misanthropic. I don't entirely agree. Antisocial doesn't necessarily mean misanthropic but this logic ain't without weight as @psychologicaI tweeted the other day...


So you do have a reason to believe what you believe. Anyway, This ain't the thing I'm going to ramble about, am I? Nope, I'm going to talk about antisocial beings and their love with 140. Antisocial beings are protagonists of the drama that is being staged on Twitter. These chaotic souls are the fuel that drive Twitter....
Yeah! these chaotic souls gave a whole new meaning to Twitter or as some of us put it 'Life in 140.' Come to think of it, we can't really be that antisocial if such powerful and popular 'Social Media' revolves around us? 
I don't know if our scruffy minds gave fame to Twitter or is it Twitter who gives voice to lost souls who usually hide in their closets? Maybe both.
Twitter is no place for verbosity. It's for people who are damned careful with their words, and 140 characters is the prefect length to fit snippets of depressive ideology.


I, for one, think Twitter spreads one's soliloquy in the realm which knows no boundaries. Twitter is like talking to yourself or thinking out loud for that matter. Now don't tell me you don't talk to yourself, because we all do. However, here on Twitter, a whole lot gets to read your thoughts when you're all alone with yourself, and some add their two cents at times, which, on occasions, turns into a limitless-timeless conversation. 

Here you can meet people who want to be alone. As Dimitri Zaik once yearned; 
“I want to be alone with someone else who wants to be alone.” 
Join Twitter, Dimitri, if you haven't already.
Though, introverts are quite okay with themselves but hey, little appreciation doesn't harm, so we take it to the Twitter......




It's the chaos of inside that always spawns the best tweets...





And there's a method to the madness...


And it's comforting to pass the buck....




And then we have philosophy that Cicero would have been in awe of had he been on Twitter.









Thursday, October 1, 2015

Void.!!


By the ineffable blue sea
Sit I,
Withdrawn deep into myself
I seem no longer glad nor sorry;
neither proud nor ashamed
The pale cold mask of my face
Disguises the silent duel,
I've been fighting within.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

More Rambling..............!!

Zaka
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
 Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:

 I warm’d both hands before the fire of Life;

It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

Walter Savage Landor


''Life's a helluva lot easier to bear when you could forget,'' I exclaim as I lie on a beach staring at a pale moon pendent in a dark, starless sky. I can taste the salt from the ocean spray as waves chase each other on the flat beach.

Countless thoughts are buzzing around in my mind, and I want to swat them away. In moments like this, these thoughts grow so large in my mind that they seem to suffocate themselves, and then I get so confused that I cannot do anything. But tonight, the seemingly forlorn moon comes to my rescue, it catches my attention, and makes me wonder where all the stars have gone? Had there been stars, I would have wondered which of the countless millions of stars is truly the one that delivers wishes.



Ain't it cruel that just when you think you have hit rock bottom, the ground opens up again? It doesn't take reading Marcus Aurelius to know that everything I did made everything different, and if I dwelled on it, I’d go nuts. 


Every so often I go off like a cherry bomb. It takes days to put the pieces back together. I feel like I’m haunted, or maybe like I’m a ghost. The feeling fades, but never quickly. But, that’s what life is all about: getting knocked down, and pulling yourself back up again. Though, one way or another all journeys are circular. We never arrive anywhere that we haven’t been before. But, Sometimes, the world seems bleak as hell and you don't have a clue how to figure things out.

Once I heard a remarkable man say, 'Everybody is running away from something. We, somehow, are persuaded by a false belief that if we run fast and hard enough, we might somehow escape our past or our present, that we might even somehow escape ourselves.'
'Strange notion,' was my thought but now it makes perfect sense to me and makes me realize all over again that the world is not only broken, but beyond fixing. No amount of glue can ever make it right. The world is just broken; that’s all there is to it. You glue together the cracks you can but you don’t let yourself fall through the ones you can’t. Not if you can help it. It won’t do you any good and chances are it won’t do anybody else any good either.

So to run away, I come here to watch the dark sea and the white plumes upon it, to listen to music of waves, to reach out of the random in search of a pattern. I always find a momentary glimpse of the peace out here. What is it about water, I often wonder, that settles the soul?

Perhaps I love the peace of this deserted beach. Perhaps I love these lonely sands, with their vast stretch of sea and sky, and to be away from vile beings. I don’t do anything else but sit there and read, and get lost in my own thoughts. The sea always makes me feel like some detached soul, watching from outside the glass bubble that is my life, filing facts in my mind, filtering them, and coming up with some sort of explanations.
I’m beginning to sound like an editorial that has forgotten the point it wanted to make. But the gist is that in life there are some battles you have to fight even if the odds are insuperable and defeat guaranteed. That's just one of those things you have to learn along the way. They don't teach that in high school..

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

True Companion...!

There are times when you go through intense pain while you are amidst a crowd, you wish it rained...
so that no one could see your tears. You look around, to find someone to talk to...but you
realize you are left all alone....
Because sometimes in one's life you meet people who are like a waft of breeze,
like a raindrop,
like a rainbow color,
like a withered leaf or like mist..
But
when breeze wafts away, raindrop hits the ground and losses identify, rainbow colors fade, withered leaves fall and mist evaporates in the sun...
You realize the true companion in life is loneliness, that never leaves...!