i was writing the other day, with a pen, and i realised how much more of a human touch there was to my voice. it’s strange how something so physical can affect something so visceral. i use the word visceral too much, and it makes me feel inept and stupid. i am talking about what i don’t want to, because i want to talk, but can’t. what i want to say is layered with what i think you can hear. i don’t like how i cannot be honest with everyone. i want to talk about myself and what i feel but i don’t like talking about myself; you on the other hand, silent.

i don’t seem to have much appreciation for standards and their suppositions. i don’t find myself intrigued by things that have been done the same way over and over again. i like what is new, what’s fresh, original. i find that i want to have enough creativity to make my own work, rather than copy, paste or cover.

above all, i want to have fluidity (again); terse if you must, a silent voice, raw, but fluid. like kerouac and franco and the others whom i admire.

on perception, a running theme in my head besides multiple intelligences, the number of jealous gods out there and social responsibility. a period before this, i’d stopped writing because i knew i was being perceived on a different level, and it frightened me. there are some things i want to know, like what you think of me and what i write. what you perceive me to be, whether it is the person i really am or the person you aspire me to be or simply yourself you see in me. i want to know who you are and what you are doing here, and what my writing means to you.

it is now a few weeks later and i discover that he is a randian. now i don’t know what to feel, honestly.

essentially, i hate how other people have reigns over what i do and what i say. i want to maximize opportunities for myself and the people around me but nobody sees things from a similar perspective—they don’t seem to understand the depth of situations and they put me down, without rhyme or reason. in this i am accused of being a veteran, the title stripped off its nobility, instead, marked with arrogance. i am told that things are to go they see it, but i am not given much justification. if effort of justification has been made, it didn’t come across successfully. the dissonance lies in the way we see things, and what we want for our people.

i am beginning to speculate that the fit i witnessed was due to the fear of the loss of power—the loss of power over our people. it is only when one trembles with insecurity that one feels the need to raise one’s voice and use age and authority as flimsy argumentative weapons. on this side i feel clarity, what i want is clear. any opposition to that so far has never been logical in the least. i have always been met with a snarl, or a shudder, pure disgust all the time. the air of negativity is almost something i am used to these days: things don’t work out, words remain as words and never transfer to actions; withstanding verbal diarrhoea is second nature.

i ask myself why i put up with this shit and never spit in their faces and say FUCK YOU. because somewhere inside i can remember how good this is, what it’s done to me and how i have changed; how i want this experience for others.

note: i have never managed to sustain so much abhorrence at any one person.

earlier my excitement was due to finding out that i might be able to contribute to this one magazine that i absolutely love reading. my very talking of this might jinx this, though i hope it doesn’t, because all i really am is just excited (for both reasons). and just because one is more noble than the other, it doesn’t make my excitement/enthusiasm any less genuine. sometimes things work in two folds, and it’s not to say that they’re always noble. then again it’s not like i’m happy that this is illegal business, because it’s not.

p.s. blogging has become appealing again, after a much needed privacy break.