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Thursday, February 05, 2009

stale bread crumbs more

Crumbs - 03 

That year, this is the year Fred had impressively long hair but terrible wounds on the scalp, he spent many nights in fear of the unknown. That's what he told himself; it is the fear of unknown. All this time Fred knew that no such thing existed, not in our normal daily lives there isn't. To say that one is afraid of the unknown only shows the intent to mystify the fear – it increases the horror of your boogey man or the old hag flying around on the broomstick or whatever you are afraid of. Fred was afraid of not knowing how to get rid of a disease he had imposed on himself, and in not knowing he kept on inflicting more of the sickness upon himself.  

            He awoke with a stutter realizing he was not in his own bed; Nina was holding his right arm with an irritated expression adorned with a loving smile,  

"Stop scratching your head! You do it so cruelly." She whispered in his ear laying a kiss there somewhere as well. But now Fred couldn't go back to sleep, he never really could if once disturbed in his sleep – but that condition was only relevant if he was spending the night at one of his lover's abode. Nina was the present favourite. They had met a couple of months back and it was evident at the instant of their introduction that they were to become really close friends. It was that close friendship which eventually got Nina in bed with Fred. He got dressed to leave as quick as he could – he couldn't stand himself staying at Nina's an instant longer than he desired; it made him irritable and mean like he was in a hangover.  

            The worst one can do to one's body is to make it dependant upon chemicals – toxic chemicals. It ruins the minds ability to engage in thought and body's ability to respond to the mind. That is what scares the living God out of such a person and without God there is every demon still present in the unknown, every ghost still there to haunt you, all phantoms of the evil still there planning to strike but no holy spirit you can turn to for salvation since you have already kicked your God out of here, thrown it in some dark alley of your past so it may rot away with other trash – positively God must be dead by now.     

            There are acts which shape a man's future during a time when he doesn't even know its importance. It's during the later years of adolescence that one's interests shape the adulthood he chooses for himself. Fred felt music closer than his heartbeat; it was in the dark concert halls where he felt the most alive. Apart from music he also loved films, he had a gift of watching films and noticing aspects of the screen no one could've thought of: he was the perfect audience of a filmmaker and of a musician. So it's not surprising that he picked up his manifesto for his adolescent life in a movie about a musician he liked. It was something the musician had said, "Live your fears and then you'll have none left – Finally you'll be free." Or something along those lines. It's amazing that how an innocent interest in movies and music mixed with the universal rebellion, we've all waged against our respective surroundings during teenage, can leave your adulthood scarred forever. Never did Fred know that living his life in the manner advised by Morrison will take him where he was headed - where he was now.  

            It was the year after his graduation, he knew that although apparently he had made it – graduated and had a reasonably gifted professional career for those times – but it all stood on the edge of a cliff. In that year he realized that how naïve his manifesto of past years was but he couldn't change what had become of him. The choices he had made, the things he had done, the experiences he had had, the indulgences he had chosen for himself – all based on that manifesto based on so trivial interests. It was now that he realized that all our lives there are so many things that we don't do out of fear, but when there is no fear, there is nothing left to do. 

            It was during these times, he turned occasionally to his harmless flirting with Helen to lighten his heart. In stupor of his chemical addictions he would lighten his heart by sending flirtatious messages to Helen. He loved the woman as an artist loves his own creation – for it was Fred who had brought out the woman inside Helen, the soul she had incarcerated deep inside her body was lured out of its prison to mingle with the woman on the outside. For their years together Fred and Helen would flirt – as I mentioned earlier, even on Valentine's – without any hint of falling for each other. That's how it was supposed to be. She resisted the temptation, by denying it altogether and Fred did it by reminding himself of his position in life: on the edge of the cliff. The tacit agreement was always to abide by.  

            Words, once they have escaped the threshold of your lips remain no more your words. They are now the world's to play with, perceived and intercepted to their liking and you have no right to do anything about it. More harm is done by speaking than by staying silent, I've learned. I learned it through experience, mine were trivial in nature where in case of Fred the damage was more than he could repair. Words have caused more pain than silence. Fred couldn't believe his ears while Stephanie read a badly written script, in a brutal voice naked of any expression or emotion – even sincerity. She called. She said her words absentmindedly and hung up. Horror! Horror! 

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