Place

Someones expired memories are someone else’s food

Its unexplainable, because I am unaware of that phenomenon my head is wrapped around. The phenomenon of the place, a crematorium, a restaurant and the bank. The bank where a lot of treasure and cash is stored. Its just a piece of paper, but with some verification and procedures of proper printing, its invaluable.

I completed reading Frank McCourt’s second book “‘Tis” very recently. I love Frank McCourt. A childhood which sprangs from the west, resides for a while in the smoky and polluted streets of Limerick, Ireland and then returns back to the worthwhile cities of America. I can’t stop dreainng about living in a studio apartment in NYC’s buildings, walk along the Hudson or take a subway to Brooklyn every morning. The Irish have some really great stories. I got one more Irish writer book called “Dubliners” probably a story around the “Rocky Road to Dublin”.

I sometimes wonder and think in a chastised way, if maurice was feddup of all those whimsical thoughts of him which won’t let him sleep or do anything peacefully. Why couldn’t he just take his life to an end and finish everything in one go. Its hard, because suicide takes a lot planning, that too long term. When maurice finally takes the step and fear wins, there’s this question which arises like a sunrise which again knocks the door of his mind saying “There have been more like you who bore for 40 years”. The sunrise isn’t shiny yellow, its red like blood.

Franz had his own days, maybe he was very stressed and gloomy always. I think he would have had really bad panic attacks too, when he’s panicking over himself and his life and all the decisions he made for himself going against his dad. Maybe there were times, when he stopped writing, got up from his chair, and slept on the floor trying to compress to machine. To feel the compression of his machine, to feel the heart beets, sometimes shout and cry. But what could he have done in that situation for long. The attacks stop for a while and give him relief, its a temporary end and a temporary sleep is coming to him and he probably slept after that. Pain is very good, love the pain you have in your heart, it might be bad temporarily, but it really helps you write good Franz and you really did.

Knock, Knock! Who is it ? Thoughts, I came to see you. A friend of mine was here even when I just came walking and he probably is there already, can I come in ? Och, the door is open I’ll get in anyway, I bought Lipton green tea for ye! you’ll love it. Thank you for letting me and my comrades enter mon, its always so pleasant the way you like us and have us over at yer place. we like talking to you as well, why don’t you speak ? why you point at us ? Och, do you mean we are you and you are us.

I was 7 years old, like all the kids I also had some toys for myself which my parents bought for me. One of which was a green crocodile, you set the dial and it used to function for a while. The crocodile toy had the form-factor of a real crocodile with all the rough poking skin of a croc. I would get scared of it, and my dad often would like to send that crocodile walking towards me.

Its actually a reality and even a friend from my previous work place told me that the ones who think a lot can never be happy. They have a lot of insects in their brains like centipedes, millipedes and a lot others.

ईंट, सीमेंट, रेत हमेशा एक साथ मिलकर एक घर बनाते हैं, जिसे हम घर कहते हैं, छोटे से धड़कते दिल के लिए एक आश्रय. रोटी, कपड़े और घर का संगम दिल को भर देता है। खून, नसें सिर्फ एक मजाक हैं, वास्तविकता सब दिमाग में है। एक ऐसे इंसान की कल्पना करें जिसके पास न दिल है, न खून, बल्कि सिर्फ एक सिर और उस सिर के अंदर एक दिमाग है। लेकिन यह पूरा नहीं होगा, हो सकता है कि नसें, खून और अन्य सभी अंग वास्तव में दिमाग को सशक्त बनाने में मदद कर रहे हों।

योग्य की अयोग्य हे आपण का ठरवावे ? हेन्री फील्डिंग म्हणतो की जो चुक करतो, तो बोट करुण घेन्यास पत्र नाही. बोट कारन्यास पत्र ते अस्तो जो स्वाताहा ला काही तारी वेगला दाखवतो. या समजुतीची पूर्ण अंमलबजावणी कधी होईल माहीत नाही.

There’s a box inside a box inside a box inside a box….