To Be Around You

Words are things that occupy space. Writing is a process of structuring the abstract.
To actualize abstracts, one needs an entity. This is what manifests characters. Attributes are paramount for creation. In order to craft attributes, I rely on several techniques, like vocabulary, redundancy, sentence structure, provocation et cetera.

Characters are the agents of translation. They can only embody a finite number of attributes. Reality is difficult and different. A single human alone is adorned with infinite attributes. Trying to outdo nature is futile. Nature is order. We have continually progressed towards chaos with the development of society. It’s imperative to find and understand our place in nature. For this, art is necessary, so is life.

If you fail to trace a clear picture, then it’s because you are unaccustomed to the technique. Some draw outlines first, then fill in the colors while some draw until they run out of a color, pick another color, and carry on. This discontinuity is capable of producing boundaries as well. Look for these nothings; look in places where you wouldn’t usually; take up new vantage points.
Fact #1, patience is necessary to understand anything. Fact #2, it takes effort to be patient.

Reading is anti-social and requires a great deal of commitment and concentration. Readers hang out with authors and their characters.
Thoughts and the thoughts churned by these thoughts- everything is immortal. The past and the present are inextricably tied to the future and we revel in the posterity of our thoughts. Hence, our thoughts are our legacy. Over time, they may constitute ideologies. And civilizations are founded on ideologies. Consequently, the things we indulge in make us. They break us also.

Permanence is the distinction between art and performance. Artists pay heed to consequences but performers do not. We all create, but artists have the patience to allow percolation.

Plagiarist, I wonder if the world is harsh on them. Not everyone who plagiarizes is lazy. It’s plausible to claim that most plagiarists work harder, if not just as hard as others. One doesn’t just copy from the first article one finds; one filters, one compares and then one decides. Plagiarists might have developed a sharper sense of judgment than creators. I do not think they are unscrupulous either. I have reasons to believe that they are afraid to traverse uncharted territories, that they are the most comfortable in the fringes of something familiar.

Write. Or do I?* Something happens and then I sit here, thinking and burning. I present to you the ashes in what I perceive as a conceivable form. Hoping my confusion arouses enthusiasm, kindles a flame. Unexpressed, these words are mine, but once out, they belong to you. They’re servile and will cater to your perception. Wield them to augment your accusations. Think long enough and you’ll approach a mental cul-de-sac where “everything was meant to be”. Masterpieces are written out of revenge, if not lament. Aimless spite is a virtue.

My beliefs are evolving and I shall continue to update whenever I find it appropriate.

*In the stage of an amphitheater I enter, with some hesitation,  from upstage-right. I slowly drift stage left until I reach, what I perceive to be, the center. I look up and there are brains whose names I do not know. Their eyes are observing me, measuring me here, where nothing glows. First, my clothes fall off then my skin loosens, drips and starts tearing off. They, they keep scribbling on a sheet of paper. Eyes cannot see; they are lying on the floor, keeping an eye on your honor. Me and my pride, warmed but kept awake by the embers of your memories; ashamed of even hurting over you.
Now I am nothing but bones and ligaments. Still standing but wailing and accusing. Long nose, unaligned teeth, deformed feet, veiny limbs, shaky hands, short chin, flat and crooked body, dripping blood, hideous sinews, I am ashamed of it all. I am ashamed of myself. I am ashamed of having decided to come here.

They’re still scribbling.


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