The great wave

Sand-castles are perfect,arent they.Beautiful,transient phases finally crumbling back to where they originated..sameness,dead sand-sea.The moment that hurts is the last near-perfect image of completion.Something grandiose in it.And wistfulness at the imagery of what might have been,could have been.Until a great wave comes along.And then you look back at the remains and can still see the castles you were building,which to any other passerby would appear as sticky deformed mud.A tear drop in the eye,prisms the sunlight into multi-colors and the movie rolls back..flash-back,or just life flashing before your eyes.Is it time to go?.But you do want to hold on.The incompleteness hurts you.And you know when completion happens,you would want to go.The castle would form again,but then the picture of destruction is what you can't escape from.And yeah,you can build something thats destroyed but what of the image that still haunts you--of destruction,even when rebuilding is over.

Guess whos back

i am back.It has been a most demanding month for me.To finally feel that you've come to the end of the road and nothing but a deep pit awaits you,to suck you in.. and then to return.It's a great feeling.Something like being reborn.Am I talking like some new age Christian?. I don't know.maybe.It's not religion though,which I am talking of.And Jesus certainly didn't appear before me to tell me "Son you are gonna be saved".It's just that..fuck it.
I am sick of my anger.And its so confusing.I am the calmest of the people at times and sometimes the blinding rage grips me.Those moments are short but they are disaster.there are answers I seek.Infact I feel i know the answers,it's the lack of character in me to implement those answers which infuriates me.There is so much thats wrong in me and I am still not perfectly wrong.This is what I always wanted.Perfection.

I am having an escapist dream these days.To run to some place..some Buddhist place maybe.Tibet ..where there aren't many human beings and be a monk there.Or maybe a samurai.I don't want any attention.I am thru' with my cravings for it.I always despised attention in a way.Because they don't understand.Not those who watched the shows and shout like mad for an encore,saying"ooh Kurt Cobin/Jim Morrison's angst..",nor those who would read a poetry and exclaim "beautiful! sadly beautiful." and most certainly not those who said"ah! another young rot shouting for attention".I kinda sought the truth..maybe there are many truths.

And yeah I missed you all.