Hope my projector is working fine…

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Hello from the otherside …

It has been a long time since I had a general post about life and things inside my head; so much has happened and yet I’m still where I was with my last conversation here.

You know how people say things like ‘I’m dead’ generally and casually in a conversation, I have started to see it as gibberish. It makes no sense. People don’t die, they vanish. You know what dies, a radio or a car engine or a mobile battery; things die and then they stay there on the table or the bed or inside the pocket of a forgotten bag. A radio dies and becomes a rusty box but it stays there. People don’t stay, they vanish. People cant die, they vanish and cant be found again even if they are rusty or useless.

I’m not being melancholic, dark sure, but I’m just stating the facts of what I felt after my father’s death. I don’t think I’m a writer enough to describe it, so let’s move on.

Well, when I said a lot has happened but I’m still here I was talking about my ‘Im going to get my book published’, yeah hasn’t happened yet and I don’t think its on the cards.

Today is day 2 of NaNoWriMo and here I’m a hopeless owner of random words, stories, ideas and characters but no courage. For someone who likes to pretend to have a superhero alter ego, I sure am quite a chicken.

Maybe, I should just do it. Write whatever, it’s not like that it will get published and judged.

Yesterday, I was suffering from Mean Reds like the ones Holly Golightly talks about in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I had a dream and even in my dream I chose to be the righteous one and letting go of something because the words were there, the thought ‘What would the world say’. It is absolutely stupid to not live life even in a dream, the San Junipero made of tissues, cells, nerves and some other weird human anatomy stuff.

I woke up blue and red; spent all my day thinking how another day has come and gone by with nothing happening. Something has to happen right, some stars have to collide to divert me from this path, I’m dragging my feet on.

Anyhow, I think I’m going to write. Its not like I want to be Rowling or Woolf, but maybe I could be Paul Varjak with one book and no fame. That would be fun too.

I have started catching up on Audrey Hepburn movies. I certainly believe I’m in the wrong era.

Alright, I’m going to do it. I’m going to send my book to another publishing agent and I’m going to do NaNoWriMo 2017.

Here is a song from Rooney Mara’s latest A Ghost Story. She is an underrated actress with so much to give. She is exceptionally talented and I’m a fan.

                    I get overwhelmed

The disowned art…

Ended up writing a short story on a woman suffering from mental illness…Guess 2am brings out the dead writer in me…

Don’t waste your time staring at me, she said

I’ve got nothing better to do, he said

What do you see, she demanded

Well you certainly aren’t a piece of art, he grinned

Then why don’t you find yourself a museum, she growled

I did only it has the damaged goods on display, he raised his eyebrow

Why don’t you walk away then, she enquired

In that rusted piece of you lies a magnet field, he complained

The sun is making you spit nonsense, she muttered

Your eyes I’m talking about your eyes, he pointed

What about them, she questioned

Even behind a dead soul they shine so bright & blinding, he smiled

What is your name, she smiled back

Albert, he smoothen his tie

Well Albert you’re doomed now for them eyes are cursed, she laughed

How so, he frowned

Anyone who has ever fallen in them has never recovered from the fall, she whispered

How many of them, he wondered

Two so far, she cried

What happened to them, he swallowed a lump

The fall broke them enough to walk away and never come back, she turned away

Might I try the jump, he cleared his throat

My poor Albert you’ve already taken the fall now wait till it hits you, she winked

I won’t walk away, he announced

So said the father & the son, she choked