A little talk

No one believes me when I say it, but I’m actually scared dead of a few things most people don’t know are there in the first place.

Who am I? What is all this? What is Life, the Universe and Everything? Is this life a station, a stop in a journey on the subway, where different people from different places all get up on the compartment, get to talk and know each other after sometime, and just when the electric white of the overhead lights and the darkness outside and the occasional swaying of the train and the unasked questions of what lies outside and where they are headed have made them want to block out everything else and just come a little closer to each other and find something in each other, the next stop arrives and we are all yanked out of there and go off to different platforms, and we are never to see those subway friends again, ever, in the lifetime of the Universe, Life or Everything.

What is the meaning of this temporal meeting, this finite friendship and love? How do we know we two are gonna last forever and we were born to be with each other when forever is a million Saharas compared to the grain of sand you now know as forever and in that forever there will come a million lives with a million co-passengers in tiny rocking compartments, where you’ll get involved with different people and think each time that you were made for each other.

It gets me pretty scared, trust me. I no longer know what to believe. Art, culture and social truths seem so little true that they start to sound like outright lies to me. I can’t believe that whether to apply a toner on slightly oily skin after a foundation or before one can really stand up as anything important when I don’t know who I am and what Everything is and whether my loving anyone means anything.

And maybe that’s why I’m so pissed of with this god dude. Put us in a bloody fuckin’ circus, he did, and didn’t even let me have the privilege of not having to think about all that.

That’s why god plays a different role in my life than in most other person’s. In other people’s lives he is a source of faith, strength, reason, assurance, comfort, friendship and confession. This way they calm themselves with God. My god also helps me calm myself. I start insulting his pants off whenever I get too angry or frustrated about this circus and some things that have happened to me in it. That helps, sometimes.

He’s not as good as you all make them out to be, you know. He’s just running a show, watching us scurrying around in his make-believe Disneyland, worrying, dying and stuff, and getting a good laugh out of it, which he can’t, by the way, because humour is one of his own inventions to put into this Disneyland. So I often wonder what he’s up to, watching us scurrying around. There is no purpose being served. Drop that old ‘We are all here for a purpose’ line, although I myself wrote an article by that name earlier on this blog. I can’t find the link now, it’s too much work, but if you wanna read it, all I can do to help is to tell you that the modified date on that word file I have is April 16, 2006. Look up that month in the archives link on the right column of the homepage, and I hope you’ll find it.

So, no purpose being served. And that remains my greatest question till today: What’s the point? Well, whatever the point, I’m sure it won’t be good enough to explain what I’ve had to go through and have to go through sometimes even now for knowing all this. Whatever he’s done by creation and all, it’s up to the judges to decide. All I can say is that it’s not doing a bit of good to me. So that god person remains a bad guy to me.

Yet, if suddenly everything gets explained by the Theory of Everything of Physics and it’s seen that everything has an inanimate explanation, as dry as a plank in the midday sun, and there’s no god and no miracles and nothing like that, I guess I’ll be really pissed off. I mean really pissed off.

In other news, I haven’t been sleeping much the last few days for an online web-design competition I signed up for. Its deadline has been reached, and the result is an immediate neighbour to what is known as a total failure, so I think I’ll launch the site separately under a free domain. It’s called ‘Weaving Words: A study of books, writing and literature through the ages.’

My relationship with Dad has gotten worse.

And a few days back I discovered that trying to focus on any writing closer than an inch and a half from my nose tip irritates my eyes, so I may have something wrong there. I never wanted to have glasses, although I’ve fooled around sometimes with my sister’s pair. Someone once told me — rat-shit, leave it. You’ve probably gotten tired with my someone once used to lines if you are a regular reader, which you almost certainly aren’t.

Did you know that the US may have a real alien spaceship in Area 51 and that a quartz watch uses the 32,000 vibrations per second of a quartz crystal under pressure to count seconds?

And this one I heard today from Rik, a friend from school I was doing the website with:

The Eagles, the band, broke up. When a reporter approached to ask when they would re-form the band, the lead guy said when hell freezes over. Later, they finally did reunite and came up with an album which had really smash songs in it, including Hotel California, Tequila Sunrise and The Last Resort. It was called Hell Freezes Over.

Can you tell I felt like talking a little after so long?

The name of this blog may be changed to One Life, because I persistently observe that’s what I’m most worried about, and I can’t guarantee that everything here is the Truth. That Transmission from God article (go find it — December 7, 2006) is not from NASA or anything. I made it up. It was supposed to be the source code of the Universe, a random file generated among millions, the one that would act as the DNA and form what we know as Life, the Universe, and Everything. The other files went and created other, Lives, Universes and Everythings, of course, just that they were called things like ₣ЧЂ˛˛Ǿˉˇ¥, ҐґҹфӨ‍‡ and ₪×Þ.


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