Few personal housekeeping this week: Found a journal I use to write at back in early 2009 days. Stumbled upon a photograph of mine of the only zoo visit I’ve had at Jawalakhel when I was probably 10 or 12. Talked to my best friend Manish after such a long gap. Book I’m reading right now — NOBODY WANTS TO READ YOUR SH*T by Steven Pressfield, Re-reading, The Obstacle is the way — Ryan Holiday. Trimmed beard, clean. Dusted off guitar once again. Let’s see! On an only-veg diet for a week (took a stomach worm pill.. haha). Came back on instagram. I average 1hr 11m a day. This is bad!
Fuse – On with Bajra boro, Mooley and Mooli.
Today, I want to talk about Fucked up relationship. Because, that’s what’s trending these days. Isn’t it?
Relationship 101.
So, what precisely is a good-for-gone relationships like?
Simple.
Without undemanding respect.
Without mutual reciprocity.
Without shared responsibilities.
Without downright reliability.
Without rap!
My unsolicited advice :-
Contemplate!
Talk through-and-through, through the depths and the shallowness.
Openly,
Kindly!
Try to Fix.
Sure, T
And, if it doesn’t feel right; Freaking Get out before it grabs you by your neck.
Call it our tragedy, a curse, the disease to Humanity on a broader lens — that we have riches of Ass Holes in our lives. Owen Wilson in a movie ‘The Internship’(Go watch,highly recommended) quotes, “… there’s always some joker who likes to play fuckaround. I guess that’s you, Graham.”
And most certainly, there are these kinds of weird clowns in almost e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e’s life.
The ones, always with an opinion over things with no skin-in-the-game.
Someone who gets immense high in belittling people (at every shot they get) with their satirical injections.
Someone pathologized with a superiority-f**ing-complex. Someone who thinks the world revolves around them and that they’re the messiah of truth and only but the truth and that everyone around them are stoned fuckers. Amazing sample ae’.
Someone who finds the likes of masturbatitious pleasure in poking at everyone’s business with their self-centered and blurred and baseless and contrived and limited and intelligently foolish belief system.
Someone who tries to shove-in their pathetic bullshits (mostly religious, or made-up-philosophical recipes) down your throat and into your blood system. These self-acclaimed Harbinger of truths and deceitful Geniuses.
Gross!
Only remember, they’re all-in … all-fucking-in — for lies, and for insults, and for bitching, and for complaining, and for inflicting fears, and for crushing your confidence, and for suffocating the innocence out of you and mushrooming self-doubts in you instead; and for merely, merely corrupting your life’s Operating System, yes, your fucking L.I.F.E with their super dense, and mindless, and careless, and heartless stupidity.
And, if you’re asking how to really notice these pathogens out-of-this-air?
Easy. Butt in the hole — chatbots!
Walaaaah ~~
Carbondioxide for life.
Dumbs for life.
p.s. You know what, spare a life of real cockroach.
You must be in a fucking rat race, obviously. And, so, you’re exhausted because of the repetition of similar days and the ways the nights end for you — most of the time.
You feel empty, absolutely and ridiculously aimless. And, you crave momentary getaway — far, far-fetched from the core of reality.
You’re in a mood (meaning, you’re not clearly thinking). You’re drunk (meaning, f*ckin’ out-of-your head). And, every fu*king cell in your body feelingly screams, cries, craves, … they so fucking miss those good-old things, those wild, f*cking flings.
You’re tired of scrolling the same shits on your phone, obviously. You’re bored. And, something is intricately incomplete by your subconscious measurement. Most of all, the things you have today — they aren’t enough for you, are they?
Don’t lie to yourself myan but perhaps, every cell, every hair in your f*cking body selfishly yearns, shamelessly lusts for some form of lightning, enlightening gratification per se (sexual, non-sexual, and sometimes both).
You’ll scour the hell out of the internet like a desperate zombie. Perhaps, you’ll run through your old messages, the instagram, facebook, messenger, viber, whatsapp, snapchat, Hi5 (haha), … whatever you can get your hands on to crack open the way to your,
Ex.
It’s not your fault. The idea of reaching out to your former boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse via texts, phone calls, DM,or probably friendrequest.
Friend!
Really?
Dude, put that fucking phone down! Breathe.
Okay, allow me to explain. By evolution, we have one flaw.
This think tank; Our brain is weird, you know.
Because, precisely speaking, it never quite registers well — neither the pains of all the pains, the agony, de burns, the sufferings of the past and nor the moments of fattest happiness too. It’s crazy.
Personally speaking, no matter how much I try but I don’t really remember how I really, deeply, genuinely it felt when I had my last breakup.
For sure, I know I cried but F.U.C.K, why? I ask.
[haha]
And this is the same, same reason why we mostly, feelingly, BLINDLY, fucking wholeheartedly go back to the same devil we know, who once raped and ripped us naked and cold blooded.
Don’t!
For fuck sake, stop wasting your time and energy and yeah’ this life in general. Open up your f*cking gifted eyes, and stop running monkeys on the La la land of break-up songs, the comeback songs.
Or, go explore some other random shits like this one.
Finally. Well, despite all this Mahabharata cum Ramayana; if you still chose to just give it a jerk to that jerk off; I will say that there’s nothing for you there mayte’ except the same question I ask,
Today morning, at 8:00AM, The Stoic, an android application in my phone duly notified me of a quote, “Live as though today is your last day”, and that too in the right moment when I needed it the most.
Sure, I’ve heard of a paraphrased version of the same from Steve in this video who himself lost his life to a rare pancreatic cancer on October 5, 2011.
Question remains. Why did i need to acknowledge and account for and absorb this beautiful maxim by Aurelius?
Because, like many of us, i had lost touch with the confinements as well as the fragility of life at the same time.
Because, like many of us, i had forgotten to appreciate life while contemplating death at the same while.
Because, like many of us, I had lost my network connection with life‘s bliss and the unmatched freedom for the web of unending, ever-expanding, forever-exploding work-work-and-more work.
Because, like many of us, I was more and more exhausted and more and more sleepless and more and more neurotic and more and more restless.
Without-a-shred of doubt, Work From Home has had an egregious impact on my mental, physical, emotional and spiritual wellbeing. For, in the last one week alone; the only things I actually remember are — all the shit pile of work, and responsibilities and decisions I’ve had to pull and on deliverables I’ve had to meet and meeting and justification fucker-ies, and problem solving, and the beautiful rain and chess.
That’s about it!
Clearly, I needed to recharge. Re-wind. Retrospect. Rejoice and rejuvenate.
And, sure, re-live. Re-purpose. Rest.
p.s. the why I don’t give a flying fuck about my past; the same why I have no regrets for my past, is because I’ve come to realize that life’s theatre and all the drama that goes inside this weird framework, only cares and knows about moving forward, moving strong, and moving on and on and on.
p.p.s. oh! yeah, and, I almost forgot to tell you that — for an experimentation purpose, all the things I had en-acted today on June the 25th 2020, was tethered around — living as though today matter of fact, was.my.last.
Intimacy to scant and even worst, the excess attention?
Which one do you want in your plate?
Bleh!
Are you kidding me? Of course, we salivate for all the former ones.
For, our life depends on few of these essential life utilities, doesn’t it?
But, we die for that too!
A giant, fat fuck to our stupid, negative bias; We’re by evolution, designed to succumb to our own detriment. Our own unpreparedness, or call it deficiencies. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. Whatever you add to the list.
Simply put, we successfully kill ourselves, in the end! Don’t we?
Because, in the likes of pollinators such as Bees’, who’re naturally attracted to the shape, colors and scents of flowers — we’re default magnet to our own ignorance, … to our very, very own suffering.
In this pretext, let’s put love under the microscope — which metaphorically speaking, is a breath and the breadth of life in its entirety.
Okay. Love! Hmmmm.
You seek love from Mr. X, Ms. Y, … in Mr this and Mrs. that, your boyfriend, girl friend, husband, wife, brother, sister,… be it even family; You thirst, hunger, matter of fact, you’re wired to search for love, acceptance, conformance outside but yourself. Science calls this a conformity bias, which, call it tragic — is deeply coded into our cells by nature.
For example, when was the last time you tore yourself up, teared up, felt small and worthless and lifeless, and wasteful, like a piece of stinking shit … somebody’s fucking love, acceptance, grace, attention or lack thereof?
Contrarily, when was the last time you treated yourself for just being alive, for just breathing at will, for the whole day you have for yourself ?
And, whoa, this might sound weird, but have you ever thought of writing yourself a love letter, at all?
Write one. And, keep it near your palm’s reach. Can’t overstate the power of that.
Dear friend, my one and only grain of wisdom that I’d been trying to sow in your beautiful, priceless terrain is that you’re whole all by yourself. That, you are f.u.c.k.i.n.g enough!
That, you must learn to put yourself first.
Love. Yourself. First!
p.s., and for fuck sake, fuck the inevitable biases!
“In the life of a man, his time is but a moment, his being an incessant flux, his sense a dim rushlight, his body a prey of worms, his soul on unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, his fame doubtful. In short, all that is body is as coursing waters, all that is of the soul as dreams and vapours.”
Marcus Aurelius
A boy who shamelessly loves his grandmother and long dead grandfather for they raised him lovingly.
A boy who was shy as fuck! He would fucking sweat talking to any girls … especially his fucked up crush.
A boy who’d write love letter for his friends. … his future girlfriend too!
A boy who’d find all the joy in the world — over 5 Rupees that he’d carefully tuck inside his pocket.
A boy whose email address once read, ’emmetvijasy@hotmail.com’.
A boy who loved popsicles but had cried night after night over petty break up.
A boy who had learned to make his tie from his sister, suit from his best friend and regular clothing from his brother.
A boy who’d jog at Siddha Pokhari like holy fuck (all, despite being so fucking thin), plus wouldn’t even care to know why he was doing that in the first place.
A boy who has always fallen in love with making & breaking & trying & creating of things, and the process, and the details of it. This one hell of an insatiable curious character, him.
A boy who still dances alone in his room and fucking sings out loud in the bathroom; a boy who loves thinking, writing, a boy — who sometime in the future yearns to be a man; who loves, loves and loves non-fiction books, and sexy codes and his hardcore mortal mentors; from Charles Bukuwoski to Marcus Aurelius.
A boy closed to the outside world but flamboyantly f.o.o.k.i.n.g open inside.
You’re an infinity I’d never comprehend but will forever adore, amicably.
You’re the end I’d never want to behold. Ever.
And on that same note, I’d like to thank your mother for her 9 months of prized, priceless — patience, pain and prayers.
And, I’d like to thank your parents and everyone who’ve bestowed you the character you are!
And, now finally, there’s so much more to DECEMBER 5.
Not only because you were born this day, but because this day opened up a never-before chartered peaks and valleys to you; for you to be able to stride along and paint the journey with your stroke of warming glee and wonderful magic.
From two to even five-minutes, every now and then throughout the day, mostly everyday.
. . .
Turns out, it’s meditative. Eye opening. Refreshing. Revitalizing. Psychologically strengthening. Calming. Soul cleansing. A necessary fuel for body and an organic food for soul.
So, what about you?
Do you even have time to acknowledge you breathe?
If you don’t, then please take your good enough share of deliberate breathes starting today?
