Something of Myself
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Who are we?
"Perhaps men of genius are the only true men. In all the history of the race there have been only a few thousand real men. And the rest of us--what are we? Teachable animals. Without the help of the real man, we should have found out almost nothing at all. Almost all the ideas with which we are familiar could never have occurred to minds like ours. Plant the seeds there and they will grow; but our minds could never spontaneously have generated them."
Aldous Huxley
"Perhaps men of genius are the only true men. In all the history of the race there have been only a few thousand real men. And the rest of us--what are we? Teachable animals. Without the help of the real man, we should have found out almost nothing at all. Almost all the ideas with which we are familiar could never have occurred to minds like ours. Plant the seeds there and they will grow; but our minds could never spontaneously have generated them."
Aldous Huxley
Thursday, May 25, 2006
9:30-5:30
These days I don't feel like writing anymore. Feel a lull. A permanent pause. I think it to be a pause because I forever think it's going to get over. Soon. But it doesn't. And the lull remains. Like the elaborate silence before the storm.
Attended a firmwide meeting yesterday. One of the speakers used the word, "embedded." I loved it. It used to be one of my favourite words. But now they are lost. Like tears in the rain.
Tennyson keeps coming back to me. Why should life all labour be?
The days pass by. We are still getting into the groove. The practice is small. The pressure builds on. And I just keep wondering. Thinking. Deliberating. Reflecting. I think I am a victim of procrastination. It did get to me. It's time I accept it. This side of me, I never want to see. The other side, got carried away with the tide. I feel weary now. It doesn't pain any more. Tom Selvon does not haunt me anymore. The names of the tube stations, the main lines, the remnants of an empire, the smell of a different continent, the depressing rain, the wonderful countryside, the blue ocean, the waves, the words...the words...words...all gone. They don't come anymore. Beloved lies in peace.
And I am happy like this. No really, I am. This was what it was all about. Wasn't it? This comes at a cheap price. I'll get married. Have a kid. Build a bank balance. And then I'll be gone.
You could tell your friends then, "He was an ordinary man."
These days I don't feel like writing anymore. Feel a lull. A permanent pause. I think it to be a pause because I forever think it's going to get over. Soon. But it doesn't. And the lull remains. Like the elaborate silence before the storm.
Attended a firmwide meeting yesterday. One of the speakers used the word, "embedded." I loved it. It used to be one of my favourite words. But now they are lost. Like tears in the rain.
Tennyson keeps coming back to me. Why should life all labour be?
The days pass by. We are still getting into the groove. The practice is small. The pressure builds on. And I just keep wondering. Thinking. Deliberating. Reflecting. I think I am a victim of procrastination. It did get to me. It's time I accept it. This side of me, I never want to see. The other side, got carried away with the tide. I feel weary now. It doesn't pain any more. Tom Selvon does not haunt me anymore. The names of the tube stations, the main lines, the remnants of an empire, the smell of a different continent, the depressing rain, the wonderful countryside, the blue ocean, the waves, the words...the words...words...all gone. They don't come anymore. Beloved lies in peace.
And I am happy like this. No really, I am. This was what it was all about. Wasn't it? This comes at a cheap price. I'll get married. Have a kid. Build a bank balance. And then I'll be gone.
You could tell your friends then, "He was an ordinary man."
Monday, May 15, 2006
ForyearsIhaveresearchedontheideaofdisplacementWhatitmeanstogofromoneplacetoanotherTocarrybaggages
AndnowhereiamMyselfDisplacedLookingforshelterHomeRhythmWarmthSecurityDon'tknowaboutallthoseexilesbutIsthisaboutfreedom
Ifsothenfreedomcomesataprice
SettlingininthisalientowncitywhateverIwanderaloneoftenThebeestungmetheothereveanditwassopainful
OfcoursenomorethantheelectricsensationthatrunsthroughmeeachdayasiwakeupinthemorningAloneAllAllAloneinThisWildWildWorld
PSThisisanefforttobringtogetherallthosemyriadfeelingsThoseevereludingthoughtsGonein60seconds...
AndnowhereiamMyselfDisplacedLookingforshelterHomeRhythmWarmthSecurityDon'tknowaboutallthoseexilesbutIsthisaboutfreedom
Ifsothenfreedomcomesataprice
SettlingininthisalientowncitywhateverIwanderaloneoftenThebeestungmetheothereveanditwassopainful
OfcoursenomorethantheelectricsensationthatrunsthroughmeeachdayasiwakeupinthemorningAloneAllAllAloneinThisWildWildWorld
PSThisisanefforttobringtogetherallthosemyriadfeelingsThoseevereludingthoughtsGonein60seconds...
