f Notes from the Underground: 12/21/08 - 12/28/08
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Saturday, December 27, 2008

where's the bride?

What's odd is not there thirst to exercise their power rather their immaturity while trying to do so. They seem nothing more then amateurs: exhibitionists trying to cover for their lack of skill, professional knowledge and expertise by laying the blame on their subordinates. I pity them and I pity those who are their subordinates. Ah! of course the distributio of power and resources has always been beyond logic but this is ludicurous. Well, to keep the record right, you know, I insist that we stay clear on this one: the only thing fair about life is that it's unfair. Deal with lyfe as it is not as you thought it should be. 
What defines you is not what you are but what you have been till now, your future is nothing but one small, in infinitude, black dot. Whereas, your past is, and I repeat so that you can allow yourself time to let it sink in, your past is. It still is, and it will forever remain, a glorious and serence blur light connecting you to yourself, defining your being; your wishes that you have conquered, your hopes that were never fulfilled, your infinitesimally small knowledge about loved ones who have passed away tormenting each day of your life ever since for not giving yourself time to know them better, the accidents that have left scars on your body. There is a torrent of events, names, structures, noises, caresses and all that is felt connecting you to yourself in time and space through your past.
Silently, without making much noise, his voice trailed off to somewhere in my past and I could no longer hear him. All I can hear now is laughter, unbriddled and nonsensical laughter!

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

An ugly day

The ugly soul of this day wraps around my mind and shatters the insides like a deadly snake coiled around a helpless mouse. I'm having a hard time trying to write something that will just flow through but it seems rather impossible since times immemorial.
"Stop it! this is idiotic to the extent of infancy." He yelled within himself, "the infant, however, makes the idiocy seem surprisingly lovable. In you, my dear fellows, it is wholly loathsome." They have not grown out of the misfortune of childhood; unfortunately, for the one who have grown up there are consequnces after an action, and in this deliberately unjust world, it seems, I will suffer havoc because of their puerile behaviour.
There is not a single bone in my body which doesn't ache because of the constant acidic air I'm being made to breathe. Like, I've been hung to dry over a toxic river or as if it was acid raining through my flesh and blood permeating into the folds of my bones - hallowing my skeleton, churning the juices of life out of it.
After he had had thoughts of such irrepressible girth pouring out of him in a fever of resentment and insult, he could no longer feel his face masked with skin and his scalp felt the acids evaporate out of his head leaving on his skin hideous growths of intolerable proportions. He continued with his - infested? - train of thought with disgusting scratching of his scalp which left traces of decayed and burned out skin in his nails. Oh! how his mind must have simmered after being incinerated in the acids of jealousy, deceit and hypocrisy?